Pacifista

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

@Pacifista How do you do it? How comes you're always the first person to react to my posts?

I will beat you at some point, I'm going to post at a time you're not around.

@Sep

Good luck I'm in your walls

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

---

A green eyelid cracked open at the sound of the door shutting. Within a few moments Garfield could plainly hear the rustling of fabric, the shifting of a curtain, and running water. Stretching out his paws and upper body, he took a few strides out of the corner and left his cat form. He was clean for the first time in weeks, having swapped to a cheap Fortnite shirt and cargo pants Rachel got from a Walmart. A few wrappers of their late night mockery of a meal still hung around so Garfield rounded them up and threw them away before taking a seat against the wall as he waited. He’d managed a shower last night, his old clothes left in a pile on the floor, but when he’d come out, Rachel had already passed out on the lone bed. She hadn’t been willing to pay for two rooms or two beds so Garfield had joked about just sleeping in the corner, expecting to be finding a place outside, but she had been too tired to argue.

Eventually, the water went off and the door cracked open. Garfield awaited her in the form of a Labrador, dutifully sitting at attention, tail wagging lightly. “You’re still here?”

Dressed down to a fresh black T-shirt and shorts with a towel over her shoulders, she took a seat on the bed while Garfield turned human and crossed his legs. “Uh, yeah? You were going to do the familiar ritual thing.”

“...You can’t be serious. Did you not hear me? I want to-”

“Yeah, destroy the world for your dad, I remember.” Gar saw her eye twitch as she stared. He thought she was trying to probe him for a reaction so he kept as neutral an expression as possible, but as she leaned over slightly, her still wet hair falling from her shoulder, his eyes scanned her up and down as he felt his heart start to race. He’d thought he kept it pretty cool, but her face broke into a smirk. A chill ran down his spine.

“Pathetic. I suppose I should have expected as much from a literal animal who can’t keep his paws off of me.”

Images flashed through Gar’s head of last night of himself lifting her up off the ground and keeping her from falling when the inter-dimensional corpse came through. “Wait, nononono, that’s not why I want to help you!”

Rachel stood. “Then why? What possible thought in your tiny little brain could justify the destruction of everything you’ve ever known? Don’t you have a single worthwhile attachment?”

“Don’t you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Garfield stewed to himself for a few moments. “Of course I do.”

“So you are lying to me to get into my pants.”

“When did I lie?” Rachel glared. “I said I want to help you and that’s that. Does the reason really matter?”

Rachel was still for a moment. She ran her towel across her head and tossed it aside before sitting down. “No, no it doesn’t. Once you’re my familiar you’ll have to heed my commands anyway. If I want you to fetch an artifact, steal something, or turn into a wolf and rip out a 5 year old’s throat: you won’t have the agency to deny me.”

Garfield leaned back, hands propped on the carpet. “Oh, okay then. How does the ritual work?”

Rachel’s eye flashed and she gritted her teeth. “You’re taking me lightly, aren’t you?”

Garfield shrugged. “What? I don’t think you’re as bad a person as you think you are. You helped those mages yesterday didn’t you?”

Rachel’s mouth shot open only to flop awkwardly. She struggled through her thoughts before finally belting out, “You made me do that!”

“Oh, does that make you my familiar then?” Rachel raised her hands, clutching at the air. Garfield felt a pressure around his neck, like he was in a headlock. He gagged, and after a moment it dissipated. He noticed a bit of Rachel’s dark magic fading away. Letting out a cough, he gasped, “Did you just Force Choke me?!”

“...I’m normally much better at controlling my emotions.” Garfield didn’t believe that for a second. “Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway. All the good I do, all the evil I do: Trigon will find his way into this dimension one way or another, and it will all be gone. That goes for you, me, everyone: everything. All those little chemicals in your brain are telling you, all the science and math you’ve learned, all the philosophy you’ve been force fed, the religion, even our souls and the metaphysical cycle: it’s just one universe. I don’t care if some God did make it all, Trigon’s conquered countless dimensions and he’ll conquer countless more. Everything turns to dust: what good is deciding what kind of dust you want to be when it’s all over?”

Garfield felt his spirit being weighed down. “What, so nothing matters?”

“No, not nothing, just everything humans have ever come up with or accomplished. It’s all the same for the entirety of this vast cosmos. All that matters is Trigon. The soul is far from immortal, but he is. When I herald in his reign, I’ll be the one thing in this universe he’ll find worthy of remembering. The only lament is that I won’t get to see it.”

Rubbing a palm in circles on his forehead, Garfield was exasperated. “And where did you hear all this?”

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest. “Trigon. My father. Keep up, I hate explaining the same thing twice.”

“...So your father told you he’s the most badass powerful God-killing inter-dimensional conqueror that ever existed?”

“...It...it felt...never mind.” She stood, grabbing her blue cloak off the end of the bed. Sniffing it, she cringed at the trace scents of garbage and sulfur still lingering. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. Once you’re my familiar I won’t have to hear a word out of your mouth ever again. I’m going to get the ritual book from my mother’s library. This is your last chance to run away.”

Garfield stood to his feet. As he took a step, he could feel Rachel tensing up. Raising his arm, he reached past her, swiping the remote from the nightstand. Plopping down, leaning against the bed, he flipped on the TV. “Sounds like a plan.” Rachel shot him one last nasty look before throwing her cloak on. The window shot open and she floated out into the LA morning. Garfield sat there for a few moments, pretending to watch TV, before he flopped his head back. He let out a long groan, “Oh maaaaaAAAAAAN!”

One Piece: The Devil's Due (Always Accepting!)

RICO

---

“What does chaos sound like anyway?” Pocketing a stray peanut into its cheek pouch, the squirrel scampered up the tree out of sight. “Well you’re no help!”

Stopping along the well tread and busy footpaths of Phoenix Beach, Rico started to stray from the busy areas and their merriment and revelry. “Chaos, chaos, chaos...if only Wicc were here, he was a smarty guy.” In his walk he ran into a few folk, and asked for their thoughts.

“Chaos is discord, so it’d be like banging your hands on a piano,” said an older gent.

“Prolly violence, like a fight. Got some money?” a homeless fellow had to say. Rico didn’t need to save his money any more so he gave him a few coins and one of the strawberry flavored candies.

“Well, screaming is a good indicator. I suppose it’s our job to follow the sounds of chaos,” said a Sootstrider. And that gave Rico quite the idea, the boy lighting up.

About 10 minutes later, the Sootstriders were involved in an incident, several of them being called to a tree in between a few of the complexes, some bystanders leaning out of windows to keep tabs on what was going on. Trapped in the tree was an old lady, the woman howling in fear. As they circled about, trying to climb the trunk, a red and green flash hopped in, scooping up the old lady in a flash, carefully dropping down with a cry of, “I’ve gotcha!” Once on the ground, Rico helped her onto a bench, her legs still trembling.

“What are you doing, that was dangerous!”

“Don’t worry guys, I had it, this kind of thing happens all the time.”

“...I don’t think that's true.”

“Sure! You wanted to feel young again, right?” Rico asked. The lady beamed, Rico’s kind understanding like a ray of light in the darkness of black uniformed Sootstriders admonishing her for adding some chaos to their day. She grinned, reaching up to grab his cheek. Rico held it at bay, clarifying, “Okaaaay, but you only get one! Ow.” Rico took the pinch in stride, doing a hard candy exchange before the crowd dispersed.

Finding the Sootstrider from before, Rico asked, “Mind if I pal around with you guys for a bit? I’m looking for, uh, the sound of chaos. Mister...Phenix? Fenix? Phonics? Mister Fred put me on a job to bodyguard the Prince since some guys are comin’ to kill him dead.”

The Sootstrider went pale. “The Trenders? You? That fits with what we've been told recently, but you don’t need to go searching. We know where he is since we’ve been keeping watch at a distance, but engage at your own risk. He’s bound to be more dangerous than any assassin that comes after him.”

Rico held up a hand, unfurling his fingers to reveal a hard candy lodged between each one. “I have a way with people.”

One Piece: The Devil's Due (Always Accepting!)

I made a new game discord so join when you're up for it!

Don't answer DMs of people asking you to play a game to help them with a college project ;~;

Also I'm working on a Rico post but needless to say I've been busy...

One Piece: The Devil's Due (Always Accepting!)

My discord account got hacked so please don't respond to any unusual messages!

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

---

They’d agreed to wait. It only made the most sense. Things were hectic all over and for Jean to drop everything into one endeavor perhaps wasn’t the smartest. She wondered if Scott thought that maybe her feelings would cool, but for days on end they consumed her.

It’s true that it wasn’t her priority. When she had a bit of time she took a bit of an evening flight, dressing in dark clothing and using her telekenesis to roam about while Nathan slept and Scott worked. She was plagued with constant pangs in her heart and visions of one thing or another going wrong at the apartment, but she was only planning on being gone for an hour. She promised herself that much. It was an interesting experience: she had never used her powers for such a long period of time on such a relatively large object, and once she got the hang of it she was zooming about. It had taken her 5 minutes to return from the neighborhood that it took her 15 to reach at first. The biggest difficulty was navigation: she hadn’t been outside much at all at night, let alone at this elevation. She kept her phone on her and powered off, just in case, and put LED lights they had for power outages by her window, set to green and gold, so she’d know exactly where to fly in when she came back.

She hadn’t been flying errantly. While getting a lay of the land was part of the purpose, she also kept her mind out for the green skinned boy. She’d probed rather deeply last time, getting full scenes of his memories that had given him the burning feelings that would cause one to take a gun to an elementary school. While it wasn’t something she liked to do, as usual fearing potential negative effects, it gave her more than enough of a flavor of how he thought, which she hoped would allow her to detect him. Baltimore wasn’t exactly the most idyllic city, and the only place she could think to find who she was looking for was in the worst areas. And with her mind opened, she more keenly felt their bitterness, anger, their fractured minds, the cries of bliss from transient pleasures like alcohol or drugs. She’d intended to stay out searching for half an hour, but had to leave after half that. It was too much for her. It always had been. Those pushed to the dregs of society, those on the bus commute, to walking the streets: everyone was struggling in their own ways constantly. Suicidal thoughts, fantasies of violence and destruction, deep cries of agony behind smiling faces, a weight of heavy anxiety. She managed through her day to day because she’d gotten rather good at shutting it off, turning it into background noise. She hadn’t opened it in a long time, for good reason.

Was it selfish of her to only be trying to help one person? She knew that if she did everything she could for everyone in front of her, she’d break down. She’d done it before, at school she’d tried to push together two people who had silent crushes on one another, but it fell apart. Perhaps it would have gone that way eventually had it happened at all, but Jean still felt guilty and responsible for a role she took that none could ever have guessed at. Wasn’t being a superhero just tackling the loudest, largest problems? Mercifully, she hadn’t crossed paths with anything particularly troubling tonight. She wouldn’t be sure what she’d do if she did, not until she got to that point. She hadn’t really been in a fight before. But she’d have to take it all in stride. Seeing those two lights as she returned home, she wanted to believe in the power of symbols. Finding Nathan to be perfectly alright, she tried to get some rest, but any sleep she found was rather light.

-----

Hopping up the stairs, Jean returned from another day at work, eager to see Scott again. Their disparate schedules was a rough concession, but it made those daily moments all the more of a treasure. A bag bounced at her side, excitement uncontainable as she entered.

Scott popped his head out of the kitchen. “Hey! Hey, what’ve you got there?”

Putting down her things, a bit of apprehension came to her. “Don’t be mad.”

Scaott gave a light smile and a shake of his head as he returned to the kitchen, the smell of his pot of chili emanating through the house. “I can’t get mad at you, not for anything superhero related at least.”

Jean had just turned the corner, mouth agape. “How did you-”

She was interrupted by a soft kiss on the lips, Scott slipping the paper bag out of her hands. “I just knew!” Taking a peek inside, he observed, “Green and gold, huh?”

“I thought that X-genes are just a part of the evolutionary process, so green is a tie to nature. I thought about red because, well, Firebird, but I don’t want to be thought of as aggressive. Gold can be seen as representing compassion and optimism, and that’s really want I want to inspir-oh!” Jean shuffled through the bag of fabric, pulling out a piece of construction paper. “I was thinking about how to hide my identity and came up with this with the kids in class, what do you think?” Putting the piece of paper over her face, she looked through the two big eye holes. The page sat on her nose with two large triangle flaps pointing upward.

“Made with?” Scott raised an eyebrow.

She dropped the page. “Some of them have been excited about superheroes being real, and a lot of them have been anxious. So I thought it would be fun to try and have them think about being heroes themselves. We just used construction paper to make masks.”

“...You exploited child labor?”

“No!” Jean and Scott broke into laughter for a good few seconds. Wiping at her eyes, Jean looked over to see Nathan looking up at them from the other side of his barrier, a clear longing to be with them on his face.

A little while later, they sat at the table, Jean with her laptop, the TV in the other room on and playing Channel 5, all of them with food. They mask was set nearby, Jean stealing glances at it and starting to admit to herself that her design sense wasn’t the strongest.

“I think a mask is a good idea, I just don’t know if you should reveal so much of your face. And how were you going to conceal your voice? If one of your students or their parents or anyone recognizes you then it’ll be a sh...poopstorm.” Scott stole a glance at Nathan, using his finger to wipe some of the food that spilled onto his chin.

“You also don’t really like it,” Jean said knowingly.

Scott admitted, “It might look better when you actually get around to making it properly. Where are you going to get a sewing machine?”

Jean hadn’t made a costume in a while, but it wasn’t as though she lacked experience. “I bet one of the other teachers has one, if I say it’s for Halloween they might lend it out.” Scott dwelled on that, Jean catching a few of his reasonable misgivings. Would they want to see the finished product? Even if they just saw green and gold fabric, if a red haired hero wearing it popped up out of the blue, mask or not… “I’ll figure it out. For the voice though...I haven’t thought about it yet, augh.” She bowed her head, taking a bite of chili and listening to the TV a bit in the lull of conversation.

“- that could have been avoided if law enforcement were properly equipped to fight back against these powered individuals. If we could rely on our civil servants instead of vigilantes and the odd mutant with a conscience.”

Freezing mid bite, Jean blinked, stunned like she’d just received a slap. She turned to Scott, who’d similarly stopped with a spoonful in front of his mouth before dropping it back into his bowl. They didn’t need to exchange a word, both of them standing and moving to the living room to get a better look at the TV. They watched the young CEO of Stark Industries parading about the stage decorated with metal men in various colors with weapons out and visible on many of them. The name said it all: War Machine. Jean leaned back in her seat, a trembling hand over her face. Scott gripped the arm of the couch, veins bulging from his hand.

“He- he did not just-”

“Can’t take the mask off if there wasn’t one in the first place!” Scott leaned forward, heel bouncing on the ground. A few feet away Nathan let out a low whine.

“People are saying the police need to be de-funded and he calls it War Machine! He said law enforcement, didn’t he?” She paused as he did. And the crowd continued to clap and cheer. That was the worst part. She felt her insides crashing down, each clap like a sledgehammer to an old mansion. It made her sick. Disgusted even.

It took a minute or so for them to gather themselves. “Jean, I’m sorry for ever doubting you.” He put a hand on her back, stroking it softly. “If you weren’t going out there, after seeing that I’d be the one figuring something out.”

Jean’s breath was starting to steady, but each deep breath still shook her. Looking back at the screen as Tony introduced his War Machine pilots, she caught the suit or armor sitting as a centerpiece. “I’m so glad I didn’t go red and gold, ugh.” Scott managed a smile, pressing his forehead against Jean’s shoulder. “The ‘odd mutant with a conscience’, oh what I wouldn’t do to give him a piece of my mind.” She clutched at the air before storming from the couch, giving Nathan a reassuring kiss on the forehead and snatching another bite of food. Taking him in her arms, she floated his high chair and their bowls of food back to the living room, Scott watching with awe and trepidation.

“So what, they’re going to put a War Machine in every major city in the US? I have to buy half my school supplies for my one class but the BPD are going to get a shiny new toy to crash through the Basilica.”

“Or we’ll just get fresh take on the Gun Trace Task Force. Dear god if someone takes a joy ride in that thing...who thought this was a good idea? A whole room of the smartest minds in the countr-”

Scott stopped dead as the next exposition began, a mammoth in red and purple emerging: a bona fide mech straight out of the pages of science fiction. Its face and shape were roughly human, yet it displayed no humanity whatsoever. Bolivar’s Tasks words didn’t carry any either. ‘Human problem’, ‘DNA scan’, ‘mutant gene’, ‘registration’. Each of these words and phrases sucked all the air out of the room. She and Scott went deathly quiet. Hand trembling, Scott turned off the TV. Their bowls were placed down, the contents destined to grow cold. They didn’t have much appetite any more. Jean stood for a moment, picking Nathan up. With a flash of her mind, the paper mask on the table fluttered into the trash can and she sat back down. Scott wrapped his arm around the two of them. She looked into his sunglasses before leaning in, pressing her head against his chest, feeling his warmth, so needed right now to stave away the cold fears gripping their hearts. She gently stroked Nathan’s back, holding him close. She knew she and Scott were thinking the same thing. If Trask’s Sentinels rolled out, there would be no hiding. So Jean wasn’t going to hide, come hell or high water.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

SIX MONTHS AGO

---

Vic didn’t know why it was so cold. Not freezing, no, freezing didn’t seem to exist here. He’d caught a glimpse of the surface once when he was brought here. Vast stretches of ecumenopolis in between towering pillars spewing endless flame. It shouldn’t have been a place that could support life. Certainly not human life, and yet, here he was staring up at a dark stone ceiling. His breath came in and out but he didn’t feel any air moving. He moved his right eye. His left didn’t want to work, nor did the rest of his body. Vic had sleep paralysis once before. It had been peak football season and his knee had been acting up. He hadn't told anyone, just in case he was benched in his last school year. His grades were slipping and his parents were getting on his case (like he wasn’t still valedictorian material with a 3.9 as opposed to a 4.1). He’d known they were just worried about him, and it’s not like they were wrong, what with how stressed he’d been. Stressed enough to have a bout of sleep paralysis, he’d assumed. They were parents and he was just a kid, it’s what they were supposed do. He didn't remember what their faces looked like anymore. He just imagined them with purple eyes and the overbite of the only humanoid face he’d seen, one that plagued him like a ghost since he’d gotten here. He still had the feeling of them and the love or annoyance they’d given, holding on to everything through his waking moments to keep it from slipping away, but he felt like it was slipping away always. Was the grass of the football field always gray? All his memories had been tinted to red and orange for that was all he’d seen. That and black, like the shadows that filled every corner and the whips that tore his flesh when he had misstep on his menial labor of moving stones back and forth across a field for no reason other than to do it with no end in sight. Come to think of it, it’d been football sized. Moving stones back and forth for no reason: it was all the same.

He heard laughter and chills went down his spine. It was low, droning, and forced, made because there was no other choice rather than out of true mirth. Laughter itself was a crime here, mirth more of a privilege than anything. He wondered who was laughing, but it was him. He wasn’t in sleep paralysis, he was awake indeed. Why couldn’t he feel anything but the stone he lay his head on? A sharp grip found his scalp, pulling the skin under his curly hair. A face curled over him: the dull purple stare and bald head of Dr. Bedlam causing him to go still. He held a lone finger up to his lips. “Shhhhhh, the delicate part is almost done. I will forgive you just this once, but should anyone else hear then there will be not a thing I can do for you. Not a thing! And I’m already taking care of everything for you.”

Vic could speak but he didn’t want to. Instead he tried to move his body, but it wouldn’t listen. His eyes flickered but he couldn’t even see past his nose. He felt fear but his heartbeat seemed distant and stable. Dr. Bedlam casually wondered, “Do you want to see?” Victor didn’t say yes or no. Bedlam took it as a yes. Flashing his teeth, his grip was a bit more gentle this time. He pulled Victor up and he saw a segmented length glistening red expect where metal plates were installed, small metal arms working on coating the structure with machinery. Wires and cables were attached to what remained of his spinal column, going off to other machines. He couldn’t feel his feet because he had no feet. He couⱢdn’t feel arms because he had no arm𝕤. He cou𝚲dn’t bod𝚢 had n𝘖 body. C𝇈uldn’𝛕 fe𝀣l no l𝛦gs no leg𝛓s ꧶ould︖’t feel bac𛱘 no ︸꤂uldn’t feel fi𝈆gers cou꠵d꣣꣤꣤nꢓt ꠷o lungꚘ elbowꜦs heꞵrt nail꣔ stꕕmach coꔅuldn’t ䷽eel no꒤ thin︙

He screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed he screamed even though he didn’t have a throat or lungs or vocal chords so he couldn’t stop

---

“HRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

ONE WEEK AGO

---

---

Victor jumped with a start. His right eye was greeted with darkness, slowly adjusting to the low light of night. His red eye flashed with warnings, highlighting danger as a gold and green bug eyed monster with small metal wings and a black firearm stood over him. Victor threw aside his blanket, gray with a coarse texture, but the gun already fired, a red beam of energy sending him back to the floor before he could do more than sit up. The concrete was scoured by the metal of his silver limbs as Victor rolled to his feet. There was a crack, and he saw stars, head colliding with the small bridge under the walking path he’d found to sleep under. His skull might have been metal, but the skin still bled, the brain within knocking lightly. Generally, Victor treasured the piece of humanity he had left, but now it wasn’t doing him any favors. He felt a rough shove from behind, a second parademon giving him a brutal shove. He splattered into the dirt, the two of them letting out shrieks that might have been laughter. No, not laughter, not from Apokolips. They were war cries of victory sung too soon. Fingers melting away, a cannon took the place of his arm, a sonic blast fired off. The wooden bridge was reduced to splinters, and the parademons were blasted back. Getting back to his feet, Victor leapt at the nearest one. With a feral roar, he plunged his remaining fist into his face again and again. Though they were monsters there was flesh underneath, and Victor brought out of hiding. Another blast hit him on the back but after being buffeted he turned his sonic cannon on them and tore them to shreds before going back to his main prey, launching another fist into the puddle of flesh.

It only found dirt. Frantically patting the ground, Victor didn’t find even a stain. Jumping to his feet his head swiveled around, there was no sign of parademon or weapon anywhere, only the destruction left behind from his cannon, its technology beyond this world. Running fingers across his forehead he rolled the blood and sweat he found between his finger and thumb. The messages from his red eye still flashed.

STRESS LEVELS HEIGHTENED. APPLY SEDATIVE? Y/N

Dismissing it, Victor closed his eye, letting his thoughts quell, letting sleep the nightmare that had awoken him every night since he returned to Earth. He fought to escape for what? A family he couldn’t bring himself to see? A prison he was still trapped in? Mirthless, he laughed. It was the one freedom he’d earned. Stooping down, he grabbed his blanket, pulling it from the rubble and shaking it free of as many splinters as he could. Draping it over his shoulders he walked off, going parallel to the city lights of LA, for he didn’t know where to go but in whatever arbitrary direction he’d decided was forward.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Oh yeah, I’ve been following the convo but I didn’t even think to chime in even though I’m technically relevant lol.

I don’t have plans for Slade/Deathstroke as much as I have small potential ideas that could be done with a myriad of characters, I’m sure. I specifically didn't dedicate myself to him because he's cool and it wouldn't surprise me if someone wanted to scoop him up. @Theyra If there’s collab potential we can talk about it. Though I’m not familiar with the character outside of adaptations (Teen Titans 2003 and Young Justice) where he’s pretty much a villain, and the rules do technically state only canon heroes and anti-heroes can be applied for. I’m sure there’s gray area (Magneto for example is primarily a villain, but has been anti-hero at times I think, and Hillan’s app was accepted), I’m just not sure what the GM ruling would be, but since Sep was the one who offered it in the first place I assume it’d be fine!

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

---

Met with a rush of cool, dry air, Rachel caught her breath, water speckling the pavement from the lot of them. Garfield shifted into a golden lab, moving a polite distance away before shaking himself out. The mages were conferring in Chinese, using magic to accomplish some drying and taking note of any wounds. Pulling off her cloak and attempting to wring it out, to little effect, she saw from the signs reading ‘Riviera Country Club’ that they were in- “...A golf course parking lot?”

The disciple looked over. “It was the best I could think of on short notice!”

As he went back to his conversation, Rachel winced when Garfield suddenly collapsed with a yelp. Turning back into a human, he shifted to a sitting position. In the light of the empty parking lot, she could see spots of blood where he’d been bitten, and his limbs were trembling. Turning to Rachel, he smiled. “Got some MP left in you?”

Shaking her head in disapproval, regardless she approached, cloak squelching as she took a seat, the cool water against her skin already wearing on her patience. “You owe me.” He let out a sigh of relief as she started healing him, her mind muttering the whole while, I can use this, I can use this...

The two looked up as the disciple reached them, stooping down and taking a seat with a grunt. “If you were not there to commune with Baroshtok, then what were you doing?”

Rachel sneered. “I could ask you the same.”

“You struck first, you can answer first.”

Narrowing her eyes for a moment, she sighed before her tongue wove the lies she’d settled on in the last minute or so. “I was meditating when I detected something off about that recycling plant. I wanted to find out why it had a magical signature.”

“And you attacked us because…?”

“You were threatened by my presence and I was outnumbered. What should I have done?”

“I dunno, talked?”

The disciple studied Rachel before admitting to Gar, “No, that can be read as an act of hostility in itself, at least when it comes to mages.” He sighed. “Very well. You may have initiated, but I did escalate. Let’s leave it at that.” Taking a deep breath, he began, “Baroshtok is a being from another dimension. A powerful one. Our discipline had been using a particular vanishing spell to dispose of unwanted materials and banish dangerous objects. Rather than some unknowable void, they were being sent to a region in realms beyond ruled by Baroshtok. They believed they were receiving tributes of worship from some primitive beings, and investigated. When they discovered we were using his domain as a garbage dump, they were outraged, demanding recompense. We settled on an arrangement: for ten years we would be allowed to continue using our vanishing spell while we discovered a new one, but they would also be allowed to use our home to offload their garbage in exchange. This is the last year and they’ve gotten even more aggressive about the sent waste. I’m thankful they give us warning about where their refuse is offloaded, but mostly it’s been at that plant. The magical signature you detected was the result of the plant being used for ten years as Baroshtok’s dumping ground. When all of this is over, it will be gone in another few years, I’m sure.” Rachel’s shoulders fell, as did her expression. “This time was more dangerous than ever. I would have needed backup, but you had the problem well in hand, so I should thank you.”

As Rachel retreated into herself mentally, losing focus, Garfield turned from her to the mage, butting in, “Hey, the, uh, necromancy: what’s up with that?”

“Ah. Baroshtok’s dimension is a plane closer to the natural order of the universe, more primordial and much more in tune with magic. Even their equivalent to bugs can tap into it through sheer instinct and affinity, where we need years of study to emulate that power. The corpse was closer in kind to Baroshtok: I prey it was found already infested and sent here. I shudder to think if Baroshtok deliberately sent the bug filled corpse, but I will report this to my superior. There’s nothing for you two to worry about.” Satisfied, he began to turn off, but finished, “You are rather talented, girl. If you wish to further yourself in magical arts, you are welcome to come with me.”

Eyes shooting up at him, Rachel’s head not moving at all, she clicked her tongue. “Not interested.”

Giving a slight nod, he simply replied. “Right then.” Moving away, he waved the other two along and summoned one last portal, vanishing into the night.

-----

Still too exhausted to move far, the two teens made their way to a bench to catch their breath, shivering as they tried to air dry. A security guard wandered by, but they were able to wave him off with promises that they’d be gone soon. He just laughed at the assumption that they’d been caught in the sprinklers while messing around, but Garfield was just glad he didn’t get crap for being a mutant.

Calming his lip as it trembled from the chill, Garfield asked, “You okay?”

Rachel bit her lip, nails digging into her knee. She tried to stand, but her legs didn’t listen. So instead she just lowered her head, getting as close as she could to a fetal position before letting out a scream. A primal shout of disdain and palpable frustration. The nearby plants and foliage shuddered and shook, black magic tearing leaves and weak branches apart. Garfield himself was buffeted, holding firm by sheer instinct. Once it was quelled, she sat up, breathing heavily. “I have a mission. A purpose. I’ve been training for years. My father prepared me to do his bidding, and I was going to invoke his name over literal garbage.” Looking down at her hand, she bared her teeth before biting down, catching a fold of flesh behind her knuckle. She didn’t draw blood even as she held for a few seconds, but the teeth marks were very visible when she pulled away. It seemed to calm her, and the recognition only made Garfield’s heart sink even further. “I don’t need your pity. The only one I care about thinks I’m trash, or rightfully should after that display.” Once again she tried to stand, and once again she failed utterly, letting out a cry of frustration.

“...I don’t think you’re trash.” Garfield said meekly. Rachel didn’t respond. Garfield still didn’t even know her name. He barely knew anything about her. Yet still, he sat here, refusing to leave her side. How could he? For everything he didn’t know, the blanks he filled in were painting another picture. He couldn’t imagine what personal demons she was fighting. Earlier when she said the mages were ‘trying to stop her’ he assumed she’d trashed the plant for no particular reason but to lash out, releasing something bottled up inside. Even if he’d been wrong then, it wasn’t wrong now. Maybe Gar was being unimaginably cocky, but dammit, for as messed up as his life was, he felt like leaving this girl alone was the worst thing he could possibly do.

“Hey...did I ever get your name?”

She sat silently for a few seconds, before weakly croaking out, “Rachel.”

Garfield gave a slow, solemn nod. “Okay...Ray-Ray.” Her eyes flashed red.

“Don't you dare!”
“Don't you dare!”

Garfield held up his hands, the edges of his lips cracking into a smile despite himself. Nostrils flaring, Rachel cooled down. That brief moment of anger targeted at something else brought her back to her senses. She realized what bothered her about Garfield: sensing his emotions only baffled her more and more as he refused to have the reaction she expected from him.

“Look, you messed up once. It’s not the end of the world!” Rachel didn’t have the energy to retort. “I don’t know who your dad is-” Rachel turned on him, so he decided to choose his next words wisely, “...But if he can’t accept one failure from you then I don’t know if what he expects is really all that reasonable. Is it really that bad?”

Rachel rubbed the part of her hand she bit moments ago, the teeth marks being replaced by red irritation. “I’ve never failed before.”

“Uh, have you ever even seriously tried something before now?” Rachel’s resounding silence told Garfield enough. He kept his last follow up to himself, instead offering, “Annnd...what if I helped you?”

Once the words sank in, Rachel nearly jumped out of her spot. “Wh-what?” Garfield hadn’t heard anyone be that audibly thrown for a loop before, her words weak and lacking all her normal bluster.

“Well, you’re like a witch and I can be your familiar! Would you prefer toad *gribbit*, cat *meooow*, rat *squeaksqueak*, snake *sssss*, or owl *hoo?*”

Rachel’s expression was beyond frustration. “No! And if you turn into an owl again I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to a dog.”

Back to normal, Garfield grinned. “Aw come on you look like you loved Harry Potter when you were a kid!”

“No, I didn’t, because books and movies are a waste of time!”

“Not enough of a waste if you knew enough to catch the reference!”

Rachel planted her palm on her forehead gem, letting out a long, tired sigh. Taking a breath, she finally found the energy to stand, mystifying herself as much as she surprised Garfield. “You know what? If you really think you have what it takes to be my familiar, we can do the ritual tomorrow. But frankly I don’t think you have it in you. You don’t even know what my mission is.”

Getting combative, Garfield stood. “Can’t be that bad. We kicked that corpse’s butt!”

Rachel turned on him, looking up at the taller boy. “I want to emblazon my father’s sigil on enough places of magical power to call him here to Earth, where he’ll inhabit my form and use the charred corpse of this worthless rock called Earth as a stepping stone to make the whole dimension fall to his boundless power.”

“...”

“...”

“...What?”

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

---

With a roar, Garfield swatted the first two parasites that charged him with casual slaps of his grizzly paw. One flopped about, nearby bisected, screeching in distress, while the other was more or less intact, bouncing back immediately only to be shrouded in darkness and flung aside, crashing into the metal opening of a cardboard baler and flopping out of sight. Rachel did the same to the next parasites to come at them. The third and second bashed into the first before the metal gate crashed down, sealing the parasites in side before the baler started into motion, a press made to compact hundreds of cardboard boxes slowly falling upon the writhing intruders. In moments they’d be splattered about the machine's innards, but Rachel would be rather distracted. A few of the parasites overwhelmed Garfield, biting into his flesh. He let out a snarl of pain before digging his teeth into one on his arm, ripping it off. The skin tore, fur speckled with blood, but it held firm.

“Ả̴̹z̵̢̋̕a̴̩͛̂r̵̲̯̈͘a̴̧͙̍̿t̸̡̛̠̿h̵͙̋ ̵̲̺̒M̷̤̒͐è̵̡t̵͊͆͜ṙ̸̥̣i̸̩̙͆̏ȍ̶̯̪͠ņ̵̃ ̵̛̯̦̚Ż̴͚ḯ̵̫n̴̰̔̔ṱ̷̒̇h̷̲̲̒ơ̵̙̫s̶̛̤͈!̴̨͎̅” came Rachel’s cry, a valley of darkness carving through the corpse. A few parasites were caught in the path, torn asunder, but the greatest effect was that it gave many of the others pause, blocking their potential route. Garfield didn’t hesitate to make use of the opportunity, turning into a bright green hummingbird, the gorging parasites flopping to the ground, grasping for anything in reach with their maws. Wings beating like mad, he zipped upwards before shifting into a bulky hippopotamus, turning the parasites beneath him to jelly.

Standing up, now in his human form, he grunted, “Ow. Big things really do fall hard...” Putting some distance between himself and the corpse, the two of them watched the parasites write, their howls reaching a crescendo of sorts. The bodies of the fallen began to fluctuate, sticking to one another to form grotesque, shattered chimeras their few parts still amalgamating in all the wrong ways.

Rachel had never been so bewildered. “Did they just cast necromancy?”

“Wizard zombie corpse worms?! That middle part just feels redundant,” Garfield echoed with his own disbelief, kicking the nearest one away with his tennis shoe. A glob of fused parasites shuffled awkwardly on the ground towards Garfield, the young man took a stance to change before the very air rippled, bisecting it horizontally. Rachel and Gar turned to see the disciple had awoken.

“It’s not so strange, not where they’re from.” Garfield turned into a gorilla, wailing on the nearest parasite zombies and ripping them apart again, Rachel hissed, “Ä̵̻̉z̷̥̃͠a̶͉͝r̶̛͜a̴͚̹͋t̴̯̀h̴̛͕ ̴̧̛̳̈́M̴̠̈́e̵̟̚t̵̞̭͆̍r̷̛͖͒ḯ̵̟o̴̪͠n̴̥̿̈́ ̶̢̹͊̑Z̶̧̐ḯ̸̠̚n̴̰̏̈ͅt̶͚̐̚h̵̘̯̓̆ǒ̴̠̜͂s̶̨̺͋!̸̱̿̇” The whole of the corpse’s side shuddered, flipping up and over, Rachel turning it around and trapping some of the parasites underneath.

“Magic is a primal force of nature. It’s humanity that has left magic, not magic that has left humanity.” Clapping his hand together, the space in front of him twisted and warped, sparks of flame encircling another window through space. Rachel winced as a rush of hot air and stench of sulfur washed over her. Orange-yellow light washed into the room, and smoke started to rise from the gateway to a far off volcano. “Thus we simply return it all to nature.”

Rachel exchanged looks with Garfield, who stopped his carnage to swap forms. “You chop it up, I put it in the bowl?” Rachel’s acceptance was silent, the girl throwing on her hood and floating up into the air, arms out to the side “Ä̵̲͉́̀z̷̹͙̃a̴̻̍͘r̵̹͝ä̵͍́͊ṯ̵̽h̶̓́͜ ̵͇̝̄͠M̸̜̹̋̽ȅ̸͙t̵̢͂̍r̴͎̭̕ȋ̶͓͇̚o̸̜̞͐̍n̶͕͑͆ ̶̤̤͒Z̴͖̗̀̉ĩ̴̦̚ṅ̶̥̆ẗ̷̤̲́ẖ̶̺͌o̸͓̐ş̸͂̂!̴̳̂̔” She grew winded as she tore into the corpse yet again, striking carefully. Her head pounded from exertion, and with a wave of her magic one of the chunks rolled towards the portal, a couple parasites slipping off. Garfield took the form of gibbon, scrambling over before landing in the shape of a horse, back legs kicking out to knock the alien flesh into the gate where it smacked against the molten stone and caught alight. Switching to an orangutan, his long lanky limbs grabbed the two closest parasites before sending them to follow.

In tandem, the two were able to maintain the flow, redirecting the monsters heading to rip them to shreds and the corpse they spawned from into their molten doom. Shoving the last piece of corpse in with one last distance squelch, Rachel returned to ground level, rife with sweat, and collapsed to her knees. Garfield went to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You cool?”

Rachel narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth only for alarms to ring out, the smoke detector sounding off even with mild circulation from the still opened shutters. With groans throughout the ceiling, a sprinkler system kicked off, drizzling the ground in stagnant water smelling of rust. The alien blood began to flow, diluted. Stare blank, Rachel murmured, “No.”

Gar managed a smile as the portal began to close, but a banging made itself known from the cardboard baler. From the opening crawled one last parasite, formerly three, crushed into one flat pulp. “Keep the portal open!” Garfield called, the gate reversing its motion as the disciple heeded his call. Gar sprinted to meet the awkward shuffling mass, and once he was about a dozen feet away his form shrank down into that of a crocodile. Lunging forward, his jaws ripped into the parasite glob and held fast. Clawed feet clacking against the slick concrete, he flipped about, skulking towards the hole, the less crushed extremities of the parasite awkwardly flailing as they tried to do any kind of damage. Rachel floated aside as Garfield reached the portal. But the small legs of the crocodile weren’t made for endurance like those of man or horse. Giving out on the slick ground, Garfield’s nails scraped against the ground, failing to find traction as he slid right into the portal.

Rachel’s stomach seemed to fall. The opening began to shrink. Hr lips faltered, but she managed to choke out, “Don’t!” Shaking his head, once again the disciple opened the portal. Smoke continued to belch out, water rained down, and Rachel waited.

There was a flash of green as a hawk streaked out of the gate. Turning human, Garfield splashed down onto the floor. “Okay, you can close it now!” With a groan, he collapsed to the floor, letting out a loud “Whew!” Her adrenaline draining, Rachel’s legs gave out.

Head scanning back and forth, spotting the still unconscious apprentices and the flashing lights of emergency vehicles from the city starting to come down the out skirting roads, the disciple looked to Rachel. “You’re not hear to commune with Baroshtok?” Rachel’s bafflement made the answer self evident. “Then...no, we will talk elsewhere. Somewhere safe, nearby, and deserted.” Leaving the two of them be, he went to each of the apprentices and shook them awake. As they were apparently unharmed, the disciple opened another portal, the two hopping through. Garfield began to move, groaning as his body resisted, but he stopped, holding a hand out to Rachel. “Nice job back there.”

Rachel felt her nose crinkle. She made a motion to knock his hand aside yet again, but the encroaching sirens echoing from over the empty land around the dump made themselves known. Reluctantly, she took his waterlogged hand, Garfield helping her to her feet and the two of them slipping through the portal, which closed promptly. A few minutes later, a pair of firetrucks and an ambulance parked outside the complex. Outfitted in his gear and pack, the firefighter grimacing at the smell of sulfur and rot. Looking at the profound mess of unrecognized monster blood and viscera, scattered aluminum cans, waterlogged cardboard, and a sweltering humidity from the sprinklers and lingering heat from a distant volcano, he dropped his mask and gawked, “What in the unholy hell happened here?”