Blizz

X-Men: GenetiX

With people gathered in the War Room, Ryder assumed control of a computer. Every single LED in the screen fell under her control, and images of Umbra's inner workings spilled outward directly from her mind. A vast complex, dark and dreary in some depictions and bright and normal in others. They were snapshots of things she had seen, places she could never possibly forget no matter how hard she tried. Folds in a battle map.

"Most of Umbra is underground," she began. "Hidden and made really fucking winding for the sole purpose of confusing anyone who gets loose down there. Most of the place is set to defend itself automatically, and they haven't had the time to fix that. So once I'm inside, the entire building is mine to control."

A loose diagram of the place showed up, in three dimensions. There were areas blacked out, and areas highlighted. "Guards are stationed there. In these areas, they have shielding that blocks my powers, by only when the doors are shut. All I have to do is think for a few minutes and their barracks are torn open. The research wing is where records and data are stored. Just about all of their computer storage is vulnerable- I've been through it a thousand times, I know everything on them."

The images contorted and turned into the shape of a gun, next to it were images of the armor used by guards. It had weakpoints, flaws in its inherent design that a strategist could point out. "When you get to the absolute lowest floors, past elevators and checkpoints and all the other shit they have? That's where you find the guy who built the place."

There was a grainy image of an office, which didn't look fully coherent compared to the rest. Almost surreal in its visual. And in a chair sat a man all too comfortable there. Andrew Becker.

"He's mine."

Recollections: The Compendium

Sable.Mirror
| Tarnished Reflection | "Everyone has a side they don’t show." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Created by an Adept who possessed black and gold Lux | TYPE: | Summoning Mirror | LOCATION: | Unknown | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Albrecht Moor: A powerful user of gold and black Lux, who created the mirror just before severing from his ancestors. | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	There once was an Adept named Albrecht Moor, who channeled all of his Lux into a mirror to create an artifact that reflected his own ambitions. He underwent a severance for reasons unknown, and used the newly created artifact in place of his Lux to unlock more power than he could ever use before. The Sable Mirror manifests an apparition based on the magical abilities of whoever it reflects, exaggerating the details of their paranormal nature to create something wholly unique. This apparition can use its new power freely, and must be sealed before it can be bent to one’s will. A musically inclined red Adept with an affinity for ice will result in an apparition that can create blizzards by singing a song. An Agent who hunts apparitions results in an apex predator that absorbs the power of whatever it kills.

Recollections: The Compendium

GRAYMOON.CLOAK
| The Trickster’s Veil | "Threads of moonlight weaved by hands unseen, for the journey that continues ever onward." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Unknown. Some believe the cloak was created by an Adept, other believe an Apparition bestowed it with magical properties, but none confirm its origin. | TYPE: | Enchanted Cloak | LOCATION: | Shimmer | NOTABLE OWNERS: | The Gallagher Family: An influential family of Adepts with international connections. It was part of their collection before it was stolen by a family member who went rogue. Selena Phoenix: Former member of the Sycamore Tree Coven. She took the cloak with her after the Stygian Snake was defeated. | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	No one truly knows where the Graymoon Cloak originated from, and its power is subtle even to those who appreciate it. The cloak allows a person to create up to three clones of themselves, which all take on the memories and Abstraction of the user. These clones are telepathically linked to their original, but are fully independent and can make their own decisions freely. These clones also receive a share of the user's own magical prowess, allowing them to overcome a challenge where supernatural knowledge is more necessary than strength. Additionally, knowledge is immediately shared between the clones and their creator, meaning one can use the Graymoon Cloak for information gathering without putting themselves in danger. The cloak's name comes from a much more obscure ability, which allows the wearer to also create clones of others while the moon is shining directly on the cloak itself. The clones operate differently from the main ones, as they cannot speak and can only receive direction when first created. Once they exist and take action, they are rogue and will fade from existence as soon as their task is complete. These clones can use an Abstraction, but the wearer must possess an object that is connected to the person they wish to clone for this to work.

Recollections: The Compendium

NOBLE.VOW
| The Hero’s Birthright | "By the blade we live, and by our deeds we pass." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | The Noble Vow formed from the ambient desires of humanity to do good. | TYPE: | Magic sword | LOCATION: | The Noble Vow is currently located in Shimmer. | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Thousands have wielded this legendary sword throughout history, too many to truly count. Many have made a name for themselves by taking up this sword in the name of a worthy cause, and are forever memorialized by it. Abraham Cabrera: The Lord of Bones, the Keeper of the Valley. Abraham Cabrera first took possession of this sword when he was a young boy, before he rose to power in his secretive kingdom. Though he never once discovered its true nature, until it was too late and the blade was swept away from him. Reza Cabrera: Reza stole the Noble Vow from his father, in a bid to escape the place so few had ever even seen. Chosen by its power, he made a journey through the United States that came to an end when he arrived in St. Portwell. He used it to stand up as a beacon of hope against the Stygian Snake, which ultimately killed him on the last day of the war. Jack Hawthorne: In the aftermath of the Sycamore Tree Coven’s battle with the Stygian Snake, Jack Hawthorne kept the Noble Vow close. He carried it with him on his journey into the Void, where it stayed hidden as a somber reminder of days gone by, until he returned home. Britney Williams: Jack entrusted the Noble Vow to Britney Williams, after it was revealed that she had been chosen by its power. She now wields it as Reza once did, with the hope that the Sycamore Tree Coven will survive Father Wolf. ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No. | .............................................................................	The Noble Vow is a timeless legend, known throughout the All-Verse. There are countless fables, myths of heroes from antiquity and tales of betrayal that trace their origins back to this simple weapon. In the early days of humanity, the few people brave enough to pursue acts of good and compassion subconsciously formed the Noble Vow, willing their plights into existence over the course of centuries. Their desires for an end to the tyranny of ancient warlords sharpened the blade, their wishes to save the ones they loved guided their hands. And with each passing lifetime, the sword only grew more powerful. When one first holds the Noble Vow, the magic that created it judges their soul. It looks for conviction and true, unwavering belief in a cause that the wielder would stand up for. To command the blade's power demands that one be their absolute, truest self. Lying, going against one's inner code and self-doubt at any level can threaten to compromise their connection to the Noble Vow. Without it, the sword is dull as a rock, and won't cut anything. But should one be chosen by it, they can tap into the collective might of every single wielder who has ever come before them. All their skill with this sword is passed down to them in a vivid recollection, giving them the power to fight against even the most deadly of enemies without breaking a sweat. Reflexes are heightened, the wielder finds it absurdly easy to land their strikes, and some have even gone so far as to swing the blade with speed that defies all reason. The Noble Vow is also able to cut through even the toughest apparitions, as if they were mere flesh and blood. Those with a particularly evil demeanor, or people who harbor their own guilt and self doubt, tend to suffer the wounds inflicted by its blade longer.

Recollections: The Compendium

WALL OF.DEFIANCE
| Beacon of the Sycamore | "Before I met this coven, I was just a vulnerable nobody with no one to turn to. I was the same person I protect now, and I will never let anyone be in that position again. Stand behind me, or stand beside me, but no one is standing alone while I'm still here." ORIGINS & CREATIONS: | Created by Goro Hatanaka and Stormy Carson, to help defend the coven against the threat of the Stygian Snake. | TYPE: | Magic Shield | LOCATION: | It was returned to the Hatanaka Sanctuary with Goro's departure from St. Portwell, where it resides to this day. | NOTABLE OWNERS: | Stormy Carson: The Adept who it was meant to empower, who used it to defend others in the darkest times. | ABSTRACTION-GRANTING: | No | .............................................................................	Once upon a time, Stormy Carson was not the stoic, unflinching man he is today. He always had the deep desire to shield others from harm, but his magic wasn't powerful. His protective auras required time to cast, making them less reliable in a fight. And the barriers he created could only take a few hits before shattering. No matter how hard he trained, there was always a small flaw in his spells, and people died because of this. And so Goro Hatanaka stepped in to help his training along by giving him a better way to channel his magic. The Wall of Defiance acted as a stand-in for his channeler, amplifying the ease of his yellow Lux in just such a way that he only had to think of the spells he wanted. Every spell that Stormy ever invented was recorded by this shield, allowing anybody to wield them in the event that he fell in battle. The longer he channeled his Lux through the Wall of Defiance, the stronger its power became. By the time the coven sealed the Stygian Snake, Stormy was conjuring entire beachheads of magical fortification that were damn near unbreakable. Additionally, the Wall of Defiance began to take on a reflection of Stormy's perseverance. The shield itself has become so infused by his yellow Lux that it can survive direct damage from all but the absolute mightiest entities. A master pyromancer will struggle to so much as singe the face of this shield, and the strongest weapons will barely make a dent. Though it lacks much use as an actual weapon, the wielders enemies will shatter against it before the shield lets them down.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Man why we gotta keep creating stuff with the sole purpose to fuck us up even more? Why can't we ever get a nice apparition added in like a Pizza Fairy or a Random Compliment Ghost?

@Atrophy

Unless Ghost decides to rope me into an absolutely fucking diabolical storyline most of you will never know these things exist

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

LIGHT.EATERS

???| Light-Eaters | N/A [hr//]"LIGHTLIGHTLIGHTLIGHTLIGHTLIGHTLIGHTLIGHTLIGHTLIGHT."

Description:

In a time long forgotten, a creature full of gnawing hunger descended on the world called Gloom. The Light Eater turned its gaze upon the Adepts of this world, and swallowed them whole one by one. In an event now known as the Lux Purge, over 98% of the planet's Adept were killed over the course of eight days. The Blind believed it to be a meteor shower, but the huge, god-like beast swept over one country after the other in a frenzy too great to stop. The Light-Eater gorged itself on the power of Lux, growing stronger with each passing kill, until the day it could not eat any more.

The beast retreated deep into the ground through a chasm, whose location was hidden by the few rare Adepts who survived. They scattered to the wind, and among the survivors, more than half were killed in the years that followed. The Light-Eater couldn't hold all the power it had hoarded, and the Lux began to fester. All the emotions tied to its stolen Lux soured, rage turned inwards, sorrow took root beyond reason, love went mad. It was just too much, and so the Light-Eater collapsed under its own weight. Its ravenous intentions leaked out alongside the Lux, and that power coalesced into billions upon billions of smaller, more dangerous Light-Eaters as diverse as the countless victims their progenitor had preyed on.

Light-Eaters of the current day are ruthlessly dangerous creatures, who stalk Gloom with a ravenous, desperate hunger for Lux. Adepts who kindle often turn up dead within hours, and the few who have managed to survive in this world have become so detached from society that their names have never been heard before. In Gloom, the only Adept smart enough to live is one who severs from their ancestors, or find their way to other places in the All-Verse.

Abstraction: Pitch

A Light-Eater is, at the most fundamental level, a perversion of everything that Lux embodies. For every negative emotion one can associate with the rage of red Lux, there is a positive one. The fear of yellow Lux keeps people alive, and the sadness of blue Lux is a reminder of better days. But there is absolutely, unequivocally, nothing positive about the magic Light-Eaters wield. Known as Pitch rather than Lux, a given Light-Eater wields twisted powers that act as a dark reflection of their origins. For every color of Lux, there is a color of Pitch, and unlike an Adept, a Light-Eater does not express their Pitch in varied ways. All pink Pitch, for example, is based on the principle of nightmares, and not the manipulation of all emotions and thought like pink Lux.

An individual Light-Eater has the ability to absorb its corresponding Lux, potentially rendering an attack all but worthless against them. The saving grace to this is that Pitch is exclusive, meaning a Light-Eater cannot possess more than one, unlike Adepts who almost always have more than one type of Lux. But using the matching Lux on a Light-Eater is folly, and only makes them stronger. Even the most powerful spells can be a waste if one is especially unfortunate. They also have the ability to sense all forms of Lux from very far away, no matter how small its use. Light-Eaters hunt Adepts to fill that hollow void in their souls, and will stop at nothing to butcher even the weakest Adepts unlucky enough to cross them.

Red (Hatred): Deconstruction Lux
Green (Hysteria): Sickness Lux
Yellow (Madness): Vulnerability Lux
Pink (Obsession): Nightmare Lux
Gold (Egomania): Oppression Lux
Purple (Starvation): Antimatter Lux
Orange (Sacrifice): Vampirism Lux
Blue (Cruelty): Agony Lux
Black (Desolation): Apocalypse Lux
White (Trauma): Ignorance Lux

SPIRITUM

---

With the creatures routed, all that was left was the matter of this "Ivan" individual that Kalina seemed to hate. He was a civilian, ultimately, and Kalina had just shot him. Morden wasn't really sure what to think of that, but it was stupid. What part of keeping a low profile did she not understand. He walked closer, standing just over Kalina's shoulder.

"Give me a reason not to kill you."

You won't kill him because then you'll have to deal with me, He warned, loudly over the telepathic link. Gunfire? Next to an Etherium spill? Aimed at a Rassvet civilian? you could receive court martial for this. Raise that gun again, and I'll break it. Even a diehard WARDEN like him had a line he drew, and firing on the people they were meant to protect was a fundamental violation of everything the WARDENs stood for. He wasn't going to stand for it, but there was still the obvious problem of the grenades, and one Morden was going to try and handle a bit less violently than Kalina. There was a code that the military had to follow, even in war. A code that separated them from the barbarians bent on conquering Rassvet, so he stepped around and glared down at Ivan.

"Answer her question, and explain to us why you were transporting explosives. As you can tell, our patience is thin at the moment, so I can't guarantee you'll receive any better treatment if you waste our time," He explained, calmly. Though it was the calm before a rocket hit home, the calm before a trigger was pulled. Morden wasn't fooling around any less than Kalina.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Amara was not having a good day today.

She sat in her car, seat leaned back with windows up while her radio blared a song on repeat, loud enough that she couldn’t hear other cars pulling out of the parking lot she had been sitting in for the last hour. She just stared up into empty space while her thoughts left the world. One moment, she was there in the car. The next, Amara felt more like a passenger in her own body, staring down at herself while her foot slipped further out the door.

Why’d it have to be today?”

Amara heard the song cut off and start over, and blinked her way back a little. Her fingers curled up and she could feel the blood stir in them. She needed to distract herself, that would help.

She pulled her phone out and sent a message to all the different group chats that formed to keep the coven from tearing itself apart: I’m bored as shit. What’s everybody doing?”

A few minutes later, Amara received a direct text: I’m at the boardwalk trying to clear my head. You wanna come with?

Sure, why not. On my way,” she replied.

Amara drove off and stepped on the gas.

---

About five minutes later, Amara pulled up to a parking lot and then took a stroll down the side of the boardwalk.

Where r you

Turn your head like ninety-degrees to your left, Adora texted.

She had her hand up from her bench.

Amara turned and saw her there, walking over and falling into a seat on the other end of the bench.

”That was a fuckin’ disaster today, huh.”

Adora put both of her hands on her knees, staring at Amara for a second before saying, ”… Who you tellin’?” Adora laughed, ”It’s like people just want attention when we’re trying to get shit done.”

Adora sighed, ”At some point, I was like ‘Looks like we ain’t getting shit done today’,”

”Yeah, well, we got something done,” She said, rolling her shoulders and leaning forward. ”We just could’ve got a lot more done if people didn’t fuck around. I like fucking around as much as the next person but- I mean, shit. Time and a place, you know?”

Adora pulled a knee up and wrapped her hands around it, ”It’s people saying dumb shit that’s the problem,” Adora shrugged,
”Though, with Lila’s idea, we can quiet the dumbasses. Dunno how it’s going to work on us outcasts though.” Adora shrugged,

”Same way it worked back in the day. Drake had his group, we had ours, the scholarly fuckers had theirs,” she said. ”It worked because it had to. It’ll work now, and it’ll give people more room to take some damn initiative.”

”I hope so. We can’t work like this.” Adora shrugged, ”But, let’s talk about something else. There’s gotta be more to Amara King than the Coven. What are you up to?”

Having my skull hollowed out by a hivemind, not much.

”Nothing. Not these days, anyway. I’m not really doing much of anything that isn’t coven business right now since it’s our lives on the line.”

”Like you don't do anything to decompress?” Adora scoffed with a smile.
”Sounds like you need a hobby because dealing with them twenty-four-seven will make you want to eat a bullet.” Adora laughed.

”Wouldn’t be the first time I ate a bullet,” Amara half-joked. ”I’ll “decompress” when this is done.”

Adora shrugged, before looking out to the ocean for a moment before saying, ”I get that. But it ain't healthy. We’re in deep shit right now but you gotta find something to keep your head above water.”

”See, I know that,” She admitted. ”And if we had some kind of tangible progress we could look at, I might be getting hammered with Sully right now. But we don’t, we’ve barely gotten anything done. I haven’t done shit around here in years, I don’t even remember what there is to do, that isn’t shooting ghosts.”

”To be real, nobody knows what’s going on. Nobody has any real leads. Nobody has any idea. I know Auri is desperately chasing anything tangible, I honestly can’t blame her at this point.” Adora shrugged.

”And until we get our shit together, it is going to stay that way.”

”…Well.”

Amara stared out at the ocean.

”Shit.”

She paused, and thought for a second. ”Wanna get unreasonably drunk or something?”

”Fuck it,” Adora grinned, ”Why not?”

”Fuckin’ good. Know any good places around here that aren’t Sully’s Chalice?”

”No clue,” Adora shrugged,
”I usually drink by myself.”

”Oh. Huh… Wanna grab something from a store that doesn’t suck, then? I don’t live around here.”

“Sure, I’m down. There’s a liquor store a few blocks from here that’s good,” Adora replied, standing up and brushing sand off her jeans, “Could grab some snacks too while we’re at it.”

Adora gestured for Amara to come along before she shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets.

“You know, I wasn’t kidding earlier,” Adora said after a few minutes of silence. “About finding something to keep your head on straight. This whole thing… it’s a grind. Can’t let it wear you down too much, or you’ll end up tearing your hair out. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

Amara shrugged. ”I need ways of doing that more than a lot of people, I get it, trust me. It’s just that right now I think I’d rather have those ways be ones that actually do something for us. Something productive.”

“I hear you sis,” Adora said. “But sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a step back. Clear your head. Then maybe you’ll see something you missed.”

She led the way down a few quiet streets until they reached a small, unassuming liquor store. Adora pushed open the door and headed straight for the liquor aisle, grabbing a bottle of Fireball without hesitation. Then some Grey Goose, and grabbed some chips. Before paying for it all and rolling out.

Stepping outside, Adora said, “My place isn’t far from here,” she said, glancing at Amara. “You wanna ride with me or you got your own car?”

---

Following Adora’s car, Amara pulled up to her place, stepping out and locking her car with a beep. She took a look around for a second. This part of town felt familiar, but she hadn’t ever been here.

The front door to Adora’s house opened, as Adora waved for Amara to come inside.

She walked inside. ”So… Back at the meeting you had those clones of yourself. Did Sloane do that?” Amara asked, clearly forgetting how to turn her brain off.

”Yeah, it's her little counterfeit,”
Adora began, ”She let me have it after that whole thing at her apartment. She wants them back though.”

”’Course she does.” Amara closed the door behind her. ”It probably takes a while to make one for something that strong… Unless she cared enough to make multiple.”

”Maybe she did,” Adora shrugged. ”I don't care enough to ask her, to be real.” Adora had the drinks and snacks laid out on her coffee table… Along with several shot glasses and cups. She grabbed the Grey Goose and poured two shots…

… Then gestured to one.

Amara picked it up, and knocked it back without hesitation. ”...Yeah, that fucks.”] She nodded, appreciating the booze already. Good stuff.

Adora took her shot, and shuddered, ”Really put hair on your coochie, don’t it?”

”Yeah, no joke. I could drink half that bottle right now… Fuck,” she exclaimed, helping herself to another shot. ”Let’s get fuckin’ drunk.”

Adora passed her the whole fucking bottle, ”Yes, let’s make it easy for Father Wolf,” Adora smiled, before it went flat, ”Okay that was bad taste.”

”Nah. If anyone did get in here and make a move on one of us…” She paused and inhaled a fifth of the bottle. ”Then I’ve got five dead people on standby 24/7. My phantoms’ll take them out.”

Adora reached for the bottle, as she said, ”Does that ever freak you out- You don't have anything, right?” She said with an awkward smile..

”Any what? Magic? Yeah, they kind of are my magic, I’m Adjoined to all of ‘em. All infinity times infinity of the fuckers.”

”No, I mean diseases,” Adora facepalmed, ”You put your whole mouth on this.”

”...What? Noooo. God, no.” Amara cackled.

”Just making sure!” Adora says, taking a few gulps, nowhere near as much as Amara, and putting the bottle down. ”Where was I? Oh yeah, that ghost thing never creeps you out? I mean it's probably tame compared to what we been through.”

Amara’s face twisted a bit. ”Ehh… You get used to it after the tenth time they drill a hole through the back of your skull to make more room. The Army’s a lot bigger than Shimmer, there’s no point in doing anything about it. They Adjoined to me when I was born so… I’ve had plenty of time to think about it.”

”Wow, that’s scuffed,” Adora flopped down on her sofa, and then slid the bottle of Grey Goose over to Amara, ”... You can have more if you like.”

Amara grabbed a shot glass and sat down. ”Might be scuffed. But, I mean… Ain’t much you can do about it. Not like you can seal it into anything,” she admitted, knocking back the glass.

”I mean have you tried?” Adora asked.

”A lot of me tried. There’s one of me in every universe, and they’re all Adjoined to the Army too. If one of them could seal it, I’d know.”

”... Maybe it's not about sealing, maybe it's about breaking the bond. Like with Luca,” Adora shrugged, ”But don't ask me, I’m talking out my ass.”

Amara shook her head. ”Nah. Thing is, the Army exists in different universes at the same time. Like… A lot of ‘em. Unadjoin me to it, it’s like cutting off a hydra’s head. They just come back and get their claws in me again. I literally wasn’t even walking before they got me.” She fixed herself another shot.

”Wasn’t even tying my fucking shoes before I knew I was gonna be like them one day.”

”Yikes, let’s talk about something else?” Adora asked.

”Yeah, sure. Like, uhhh… What? How’s that new Trinity Ring actually work?”

”Technically the Triplicate Ring,” Adora raised her hand with the extra ring. ”One of Sloane’s creations, basically lets me create two clones I can do whatever with.”

”Huh. Are they any stronger than you? Like the real rings?”

”Ain’t tried it, but they are identical,” Adora said.

”Cool. Cool…” Amara wasn’t really good at this like she used to be.

”Okay, better question. After everyone packed up and went their ways, what happened back here? What’d I miss?” That would, hopefully, be a better conversation than small talk.

”... You’re asking the wrong person,” Adora shrugged. ”I left pretty much immediately after Stiggy was defeated. The only person I had contact with in the Old Coven was Kari… But I blew her off.”

”Yeah, I don’t remember Kari at all. Never met her. I think. I mean St. Portwell. First we save the world, then Nazis come back? Then Emily fucking Reed? What the hell went wrong?”

”I don't even know the answer to that, sis,” Adora shrugged yet again. ”What has the world come to?”

”Hell. Fuck if I know,” Amara said. ”Think I’d rather be back in the PRA shooting ghosts than here, feels like that was a hell of a lot easier. At least then, you knew what the fuck you were fighting.”

Adora was silent.

”... But did you know what you were fighting for?”

”Depends on when you asked,” she admitted. ”Eight years ago? Maybe. Five years ago? Yeah, sure. Year and a half ago? Nah, fuck if I knew anymore. Three my badge right in the director’s face. He can go fuck himself. You climb up enough, you’ll see shit you couldn’t before.”

”Well, if you don't mind me asking…” Adora leaned forward then asked,
”... Like?”

Amara paused for a second, looking off into nothing for a second. ”There was this one time, a whole group of cursed people wanted to make their own little society. Kinda like Leon’s cult, only not a cult. All of ‘em Afflicted, and their lives just sucked because of it.”

Amara took another shot. ”Weren’t even hurting anyone, they just wanted a way to live a life that wasn’t shit, but the curses they had gave them magic, and as a whole they were pretty damn dangerous if you pushed them far enough,” She sighed. Then leaned back against the couch. ”We had to kill ‘em all, because one agent of ours got on their bad side and paid for it. It was just self-defense, but before I knew that, we were told they were “highly dangerous paranormals.” They didn’t even stand a fucking chance against us, most of them didn’t even fight back.” They just ran.”

”Sounds like what they did to us, Adora began, ”But with less death.”

”Something like it. When you’re a big enough deal in the paranormal world that people talk about you, you either learn how to protect yourself or someone snuffs you out. They got away with setting that church on fire because they had guns and we didn’t. That’s it.“

”What you’re saying we should get strapped?” Adora laughed, pulling the bottle to her mouth and siping it.

”That’s exactly what I’m saying. I don’t care how long takes or how hard it is to get all these fucks in a row, most people with magic coming out of their asses aren’t bulletproof. Emily Reed isn’t, and I know Liao isn’t. Seen that myself.”

Adora started laughing, ”... I don’t know! You seen how the meetings went! I don’t think giving the Coven a bunch of guns would end well.”

Adora did a finger gun and ‘looked down the sights’ and said, ”Someone says something outta pocket and then pow!”
”Someone says something outta pocket, and they’re dealing with it like adults,” Amara corrected. ”Because if I put a gun in their hands and they start acting like kids, they’re gonna get the fear of god put in ‘em. Doesn’t even have to be everyone, just the ones who actually get in fights. Drake knows how to shoot already, Linqian’s just close enough to being questionably bulletproof that she could do with a gun…” Amara knocked back a shot.

”We ain’t kids anymore, there’s barely twenty of us left. These fucking dumbasses forgot that quicker than me, and I’m the one with fucking magic dementia.” The alcohol was starting to kick in.

”... Wait, what?” Adora raised an eyebrow.

”You heard me. Magic. Fucking. Dementia. Or magic alzheimers, I don’t fucking know. It’s not like it’s ever been a secret.”

”Talk to me, baby,” Adora said, ”The whole shtick with magic is that there’s a lot of weird shit that comes with it. Are you like losing your mind…?”

”Nah, nah- The Army of One’s fucking- It’s fucked up, right? Billions of years ago, I died alone, you know? Not some other version of me, but me.” Amara got another shot of the Gray Goose.

”What they don’t tell you in Surprise-Magic-Exists-And-You-Never-Knew School is that everything’s a pattern. Constants and shit, there’s other versions of everyone that are all different, but then there’s always that one thing or two that doesn’t change no matter where you go. There’s damn near zero fucking differences between all the mes that are still alive, and every time some bitch named Amara King is born? She’s a fighter, get’s adjoined to a hive mind of dead ghosts of her own damn self, and dies for something she thinks is worth dying for.”

She stared up at the ceiling, all the words just started coming and wouldn’t stop. ”And then- Then they take the mes that die and turn them into more ghosts. They hollow every single one of me out, day after day, every time I lean on ‘em, Adora. They- Fuck…” Amara stopped herself and cracked open the other bottle they hadn’t touched yet, and inhaled a fifth of it. When she sat the bottle back down, her face was a scowl.

”They just… It takes and it takes and takes and takes and takes. That’s what the Army does- It keeps going because war and fighting are all it understands, because when one of me died alone, she got so fucking pissed off at the universe that she was too angry to stay dead. So she found another me and Adjoined to her. Then it just kept going.” And every time I have to use their power, a little tiny piece of me gets taken away and replaced with it.”

Adora leaned forward, as the room went silent.

”... Maybe I should have turned on some music,” Adora broke the silence, before adding, ”That’s heavy. Like. Real deep shit there - actually, have some more to drink.” Adora pointed at the Grey Goose.

”... But, i get it. Thousands of versions of you all dying the same damn way, feeding into this... ghost army? Have you ever thought about not using it? Like, I know you have to sometimes, but maybe... I don’t know; take a step back. Let some of us handle things instead.”

”Look around us, it’s just a bunch of headless chickens so far. And yeah, sure, they’re getting better about it and their heads are coming out their asses,” Amara acknowledged. ”But… Fuck, Adora. Most of ‘em stopped knowing how to protect themselves years ago. I don’t exactly have a choice.”

”... And not a single one of them would give a fuck if you lost yourself protecting them!” Adora shouted, baring her teeth, before sighing and lowing her hands with her eyes closed. ”... What I mean to say is, it’s like with Luca; what good would surviving Father Wolf do if you or he gets killed by your Casper?”

”If I get killed, it gets shut out of Shimmer. The ghosts don’t waste what they’ve got on places where they’ve got nothing. If I just sit on my ass and do nothing, what’s the point of coming back at all?”

Adora facepalmed, ”... Okay, I know you said the other Amaras tried stuff and couldn’t find anything - but there has to be something that can help you. You can’t just cross it off because some MF that’s you - but ain’t you - said so.”

Amara leaned forward. ”You’re not- Look. Look. You can’t just seal the Army, it’s in every world where I’m alive, all at the same time. You unadjoin me to it? It just reaches back in and grabs me again. It’s not just one me that’s tried, y’know? It’s thousands, and thousands, and thousands of me that tried. And I know that because I remember everything they remember. The thing about me having magic dementia is that when they take something, it makes room for more ghosts to fill my head up. I’ve seen shit from other worlds, and I’m dead in them. One of me even tried sealing a god inside her, while trying to push the Army out. Didn’t work.”

”Oooookay, I got that,” Adora said, with a wide and very forced smile on her face as she put her hands together. ”... What I’m saying is that there has to be something that can help with your memory problems. Or SOMETHING that can off-set the side effects. Do you get what I’m saying? Maybe you don’t need to seal The Army; maybe there’s a piece that you’re missing.”

”Like what?” She asked, just a little exasperated. ”I’ve been dealing with this since I was old enough to walk. The PRA knew more about this sort of thing than me, and they had nothing. What are you suggesting?”

Adora shrugged, ”Now, let me just say I’m no magical expert, but there are tons of different weird ass artifacts, right? Maybe there’s something that can help you keep your memory? Maybe someone can make something?”

”I- Shit, I guess? I’ve tried it before. This one smug prick in the PRA gave me this fuckass crown and told me it healed memories. All it did was set my head on fire…” Amara sighed. ”Hell, you know anyone good enough for that?”

”I don’t know but maybe Jack or Britney does,” Adora shrugged.

She leaned back. ”Yeah. Maybe…” She knocked back another shot. ”…Fuck, I normally gotta be a lot more drunk to get into this shit. Sorry.”

”There’s nothing to be sorry over, you have a problem, it’s that simple,” Adora said with a nod of her head.

”Yeah… But we’re supposed to get stupid drunk and we’re just bitching and moaning… You think Greenwood would kick our asses if they saw us like this?”

”They seem cool… they’re probably more inclined to whoop up on Layla if I had to be honest with you,” Adora shrugged.

”Heh… Yeah.” She laughed. ”I bet they got the craziest fucking weed. Lord, I should’ve been Adjoined to a weed apparition instead.”

”You know, they fuck with me; I can hit them up,” Adora leaned back and laughed.

”Fuuuck. That’s what we need. You’re fucking great, thanks.”

Adora smiled.

”... I’m lovely, yeah,” Adora laughed, before she pulled out her phone and called Ruby. ”Good thing I got her number at the flower shop...” Adora mused out loud.

A few moments later, Ruby picked up.

“... WAAAAAAAASSUP!” Ruby loudly shouted through the phone, and Adora rolled her eyes.
”Hey, Rubes, wassup,” Adora began.

“Nah, sis, you gotta say it with style like WASSUP!” Ruby said laughing.

”What are you up to right now?” Adora asked.

“Nothing… me and the crew are about to head to the camp,” Ruby said. “Party off that meeting with the leftover pizza… We gotta get Sully’s ass first.”

”I got you,” Adora said, before putting the phone on speaker. ”You remember Amara, though? Ya’ll met at the Flower Shop Pow-Wow?” Adora gestured towards Amara.

“Yeah?”

”Well, she has a request for you all,” Adora laughed.

”Hey! Greenwood! Which one of you motherfuckers has the good grass?” She asked. ”I’m one step away from being drunk as fuck, who’s in a mood to get drunk as fuck with me?”

“Sis, siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis….” Ruby said, “We got all that good shit… Come party with us.”

Ruby laughed, “I’ll drop the location to Appie here… Be there or be square.”

”You know I’ll be there!” Adora laughed.

”I owe you bitches my fucking life. Thanks.”

“See ya there, babe,” Ruby said with a laugh. “We’ll be expecting you.”

She paused for a moment.

“... Don’t disappoint us.”

Then hung up.

”Well that was unnecessarily dramatic,” Adora said with a shrug.

Amara pointed a finger at the front door, and a phantom appeared out of thin air. ”She’s driving.”

A few moments later, Adora’s phone pinged, and it was the location of the Greenwood party.

”... Whatever you say, champ,” Adora said with a smile.

Avengers Academy: Junior Year 💥

---

Location: The Framework
Skills:
Framework Fashion

---

---

Leah kept walking, and walking and walking to ignore that twisting feeling in her chest. It was like walls falling in on her, rooms getting smaller. There were days when death didn’t scare here in the slightest, when she could look monsters in the eye and cut them down with one swipe of a sword. And then there were the days where her fragile confidence proved to be paper thin, and Leah never had the words to explain why that was the case. Not to herself, not to anyone else. It was like she couldn’t think straight, some notion of fear that didn’t make any logical sense just clouded her mind. And she found, every now and then, that the only way to ignore that blackened feeling was to pretend it wasn’t real.

So she got to the roof, and just stared out into the dark. It was close to midnight by now, as far as she could remember. Most of Margaret Carter was sound asleep, while Leah and the others apparently got saved from death.

We died. We died, and Zari saved us.

Her ribs were [i]vibrating[/i{ in her chest, just thinking about it. She wanted to bury Arcade beneath a mile of stone and gravel, where he’d never harm someone again. She wanted to make him experience the terror he had inflicted on them before Zari fucked with time itself just to bail them out.

And she fucking knew, deep down, that he wasn’t sorry for what he did. Dad was never sorry, and he always had people at his mercy. Dorian didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, there was no questioning that. But it wasn’t fair to him.

Leah was stirred from her thoughts by the sound of a jet landing near the school. It was hard to tell from the roof, but it sounded like a quinjet. Leah could take a guess what they were doing here. So she leapt off the side of the building and used the superhuman muscles in her hands to easily climb down. If she went back inside, Arcade wouldn’t leave.

She jogged down the sidewalks and got to the landing pad. And there stood the Avengers. Well, some of them. Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch, She-Hulk, fucking Shang-Chi, to name a few. Did they hear about this? It was the only logical reason for them showing up this late in force like this.

”We’re alive. No one’s dead,” she told them, sound a touch hollow now that she had a moment to think. ”They’ve got him cornered. He’s not going anywhere.”