Jump to content

The One Million Word Project


csyphrett

Recommended Posts

The Hermit

“Mark?” Jane Hillsmierer paused in the outline of the door frame around her. She

reached for the switch one side of the door. She had learned to distrust the dark. “It’s

me, Jane.”

 

“I’m here, Janie.” A lamp cut on, casting a glow on a work table. Mark Hadron sat so

she couldn’t see his face.

 

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” She placed her hands in front of her.

 

“What brings you by, Janie?” Mark shifted slightly in the shadow. “The business is

closed.”

 

“I think you need to think about reopening it.” Jane stepped forward. “I got a warning

from Nobody. Another rip is coming.”

 

“It will have to happen without the Lamplighters.” Mark turned to look at his work

desk. Scattered parts covered the surface. “Let someone else take up the torch.”

 

“There’s no one else, Mark.” Jane hit the light switch. She blinked against the sudden

glare from overhead. “We were the only business who could do what we did. It’s time

to come out of the darkness.”

 

Mark blinked. His remaining eye glared at her, while the other was a crater in his

face. A long scar ran down to his chin from his hairline. A gray streak in his brown

hair followed the scar along his skull. One hand had a hole in it from something being

driven through it.

 

“How much more am I expected to give, Janie?” Mark looked down at the hole in his

hand.

 

“We can’t hide from this.” Jane looked around the dusty workshop. “The warning has

come. It wasn’t raised psychic energy. It wasn’t something strange acting as a trigger.

It was a clear word from somebody who has shown he knows what’s going along the

barriers. Those things are going to come after us first just to make sure we can’t do

anything to them. If I have to fight alone, I will. But we both know you’re the only

one who knows how things work.”

 

“I’ll look into it.” Mark looked at his table. “I think I have a sensor that wasn’t

junked. I’ll start doing surveys tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you, Mark.” Jane smiled. “I’ll come by at eight, and help you with it.”

 

Mark looked at her with his good eye. He blinked after a second. He nodded.

 

“And clean up this mess.” Jane waved at the dust. “You can do better than this.”

 

“The maid has the year off.” Mark smiled slightly.

 

“I’ve heard that excuse before, mister.” Jane walked out of the room. “Be ready at

eight.”

 

“You should have married her, boy.” The voice drifted softly out of the air. “Big

mistake on your part.”

 

“He’s right, Mark.” Another voice sounded from a small table across the room.

Spectral cards dropped on the surface. “Your future would be better than this one.”

 

“The lamp is charging.” A third voice spoke. A hand of light appeared, pointing at the

metal structure they had put in when they had bought the building. “Nobody was

right.”

 

“I don’t need advice from ghosts.” Mark glared at the room. “All I am going to do is

a simple survey of the local levels.”

 

“Think about it, Mark.” Harry Cho appeared at the table. His hands dealt cards in

front of him. “You have two futures ahead of you. One is dying a failure, the other is

a change for the better. It all depends on the Queen which future you will get.”

 

“We don’t have to guess who the Queen is, do we, boy?” Milton Kearn appeared,

flask in hand. He took a sip, tipping his hat back out of the way.

 

Dyson Baker appeared, bathed in the blue glow from the device they had set up when

they had gone into business. He had been a big man in life, and his ghost still retained

some of that.

 

“You’re going to need replacements for us, Mark.” Baker kept an eye on the lamp.

“You’re not going to be able to handle a rip on your own.”

 

“I am just doing a survey.” Mark frowned at his former friends. “I’m not getting

involved in any way except to keep Jane out of trouble.”

 

“The future is going to be bad for you, Mark,” said Harry. He shook his head at the

cards on the table. “Dyson is right. You’re going to need help if you want to keep on

going. And you’re not going to shape things with Jane. She is shaping the future with

you.”

 

“You don’t have a chance in Hell of running away.” Milton put his flask away.

“You’re done.”

 

“Don’t let us down,” said Dyson. “We started the business to keep the city safe. It’s

time to stand up and start walking again. Hiding is not doing.”

 

“You’re all dead.” Mark stood. “You don’t get a say in things.”

 

“Of course we do, boy.” Milton faded underneath his cowboy hat. “We’re the ones

who did what we had to do.”

 

“The lamp is drawing in power.” Dyson pointed at the machine as he turned to mist.

“It’s going to attract things whether you like it, or not.”

 

“Any last words before you fade away, Harry?” Mark turned his one eye on his last

friend.

 

“The future can’t be fought, Mark.” Harry picked up his cards. “It can only be dealt

with and sometimes a better tomorrow means a terrible today.”

 

Harry stood, tucking his cards away. He smiled as he faded away.

 

“The Queen is coming, Mark.” His voice drifted in the air. “And the choice is coming

with her. Pick the best path.”

 

“Stupid ghosts.” Mark looked at his desk. The parts for the technology they had come

up with lay covered in dust. He picked up a shell base and inspected it. He picked up

a rag and wiped the bowl out.

 

“I’m going to be ready.”

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Heir

1935-

Bobby Benson rubbed his hands together as he looked at the gray sky overhead. The

smell of snow was in the air. He needed a place to shelter, or he would freeze to

death.

 

Winters in New York were the worst.

 

Bobby drifted through the crowd on the street. Most of them seemed to be heading

toward the Bowery. Work was scarce, but the adults were making do with what they

could. It was tougher for the orphan kids trying to take care of themselves.

 

The boy fell in beside a guy in a battered coat that looked like he had taken it from

some other bum after a knockdown fight. A suit appeared to be under the coat, but it

looked like it belonged on someone else.

 

“What’s the problem?” The guy glanced down at Bobby. He pulled out a bag of

tobacco and papers and rolled a cigarette. “Haven’t you seen a tramp before?”

 

“I guess so.” Bobby shrugged. “You’re better dressed than most.”

 

“Thanks, kid.” The guy lit his cigarette and put his fixings away. “There’s a place

around the corner that leads into the subway. The word is people are settling in for

the winter down there.”

 

“Really?” Bobby rubbed his hands together. “How does that work?”

 

“They are building living spaces to keep off the streets.” The guy smoked as he

walked. “You might be able to get something for yourself if you’re smart.”

 

“That sounds good.” Bobby smiled. “Maybe I can get something for myself.”

 

“That’s the spirit.” The walker smiled around his cigarette. “Just be careful. The

underground has a lot of strange types down there.”

 

“Thanks,” said Bobby. “I appreciate it.”

 

“There’s the stairs.” The stranger pointed at a set of steps inside an alley. “Be careful

and keep an eye out for problems. You’ll do fine.”

 

Bobby waved at his helper as he walked over to the stairs. He descended to a door

marked with some kind of drawing. He checked the handle. It turned freely under his

touch. He pushed the door in and stepped inside.

 

Torches lined the walls. Blocks made up the corridor leading into darkness. A slight

wind pushed against his battered coat as he tried to make up his mind.

 

He concluded this wasn’t a subway tunnel. Maybe people moving in was more likely

if the city didn’t care about some old access tunnel. And it looked old to his eyes.

 

Bobby wandered down the passage, finding stairs that led to other tunnels, that led

to even more stairs. He paused at a crossroads with the realization that he was lost.

He could be stuck in the tunnels for days without finding the exit.

 

If people did move in, they would find his skeleton somewhere when they moved far

enough into the tunnels.

 

He walked to another staircase. He looked up and saw a light beaming down on the

steps. He walked up the staircase cautiously. He thought he heard voices, but he

wasn’t sure. He didn’t like what they were saying.

 

He paused at the door framing the beam of light. He wondered what was beyond that.

 

He walked across the threshold and blinked his eyes against the light. This room was

decorated with statues and writing carved in the walls. A rack of rolled papers

covered one wall. There was no other furniture.

 

The light came from a window in the wall. Bobby shielded his eyes as he walked over

to look out the window. He saw a sea of clouds stretching on forever. The sun peeked

over the edge of the misty shroud, shining through the square opening.

 

“What are you doing here?” The voice was papery thin, and enunciated the words as

if they didn’t belong to the speaker.

 

“I was looking for a place to stay.” Bobby turned from the window. “I thought this

place was underground.”

 

“Some of it is.” The owner of the room stood on the other side of the chamber. He

wore something that looked like a night shirt with a belt around the middle. He had

a long stick in one hand for him to lean on. “This chamber looks out on other places.”

 

“Would it be okay if I stayed here?” Bobby gestured at the door leading to the

corridors and steps that had led him to this room. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

 

“Certainly.” The old man nodded. “I won’t be here long. You are more than welcome

to take my place.”

 

“Thanks.” Bobby smiled. “It feels good to have the sun in my face. I didn’t realize

that I had wandered into a building. I thought I was still in the subway.”

 

“It’s fine.” The old man walked to the window. He stretched out his hand through

the opening. He pulled it back after it had started glowing from an inner fire. “Take

this.”

 

Bobby held out his hand. He winced as the glow dropped into his palm. Warmth

spread through his body. He examined his hand, realizing it was bigger than it should

be. He looked around. He was taller for some reason.

 

He looked down at his clothes. They had changed to look like the old man’s night

shirt and belt. His shoes were sandals. He didn’t like that at all. He liked his old

wingtips more than anything.

 

A new version of his shoes formed as he watched. They were light blue and white

in coloring. He smiled at the fanciness of it.

 

“What did you do to me?” Bobby paused at the sound of his own voice. It didn’t

sound normal at all.

 

“I have given you free rein of my home until you don’t need it anymore.” The old

man nodded. “I have decided that your appearance means I can retire in peace and

let you take my place.”

 

“I don’t know if I want to do that.” Bobby examined his hands. “It sounds like a

big responsibility.”

 

“Everything you need to know is in the scrolls.” The old man pointed at the rack.

“Try not to let me down like my last heir did.”

 

“What if I need to ask you something?” Bobby glanced at the old man. This had

turned out weirder than he had thought possible.

 

“Simply call my name at the window.” The old man smiled. “I will hear and talk with

you. Don’t worry. You seem smart enough to handle the inheritance I have given you.

Do your best.”

 

“What is your name?” Bobby kicked himself for not asking that first.

 

“It’s Cain.” The old man floated off the ground. He flew through the window and

vanished among the clouds.

 

Bobby wondered if he could fly among the clouds too. Did he want to do that? He

sat down on the floor, not noticing the stone was cold. This was the weirdest day

of his life so far.

 

What did he do next?

 

Maybe he should read the scrolls and see what was in them. Surely one of them could

tell him how to get back to normal. That would be the best thing to do right now.

Then he could figure out the rest of this without a lot of pressure.

 

He hoped he wasn’t just losing his mind. That would put a damper on finding a new

home, and turning into an adult at the same time.

 

Bobby heard someone calling for help. He went to the window and looked out. A

hole in the clouds let him see the ground below. A woman was screaming about her

baby.

 

He looked in the direction she was looking. A perambulator rolled away from the

woman toward traffic.

 

What could he do about it?

 

He started floating in the air and smiled. Maybe he could do something after all. He

flew out the window in a bolt of lightning.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The End of the Light

1956-

Bobby Benson smiled as he took a seat at the glass table on the patio in the backyard

of Will Williams’s place. He had saved Will’s life during the war, and granted him

some of Cain’s power to help fight the enemy.

 

Bobby had empowered several people in this way so that he had help to make the

world a better place. And they had done wonders as far as he was concerned.

 

Will had asked him to come by his place for some kind of talk. He didn’t like the

sound of it, but he had nothing better to do. His excuses sounded unfeasible to his

own mind when he tried to think of one.

 

“I wanted you to know this was Ann’s idea.” Will brought out two glasses of tea and

put them on the table. “She said you wouldn’t mind.”

 

“Mind what, Will?” Bobby took his glass and sipped at it. Ann Baker was another of

his helpers. She was an orphan like him. He had helped her find a home with a family

while enlisting her aid.

 

Will smiled as Ann came out of the house. She wore a simple dress and shoes in

shades of green. Green pins held her long, red hair back from her face.

 

Will wore the simple shirt and pants that seemed to be his only outfit. Every time

Bobby could remember meeting with him, that was what his friend wore. If it was a

special occasion, he would add a jacket and tie.

 

“We wanted to ask you to be the best man at our wedding.” Ann smiled. “You’re the

only real choice.”

 

“You’re getting married?” Bobby couldn’t believe his ears. “When?”

 

“In a few months.” Will laughed at his friend’s expression. “We have most of it

worked out, and we’re seeing how much it will cost.”

 

“Congratulations.” Bobby smiled. “I’m happy for you both.”

 

“So you’ll be the best man?,” Will asked. “You’ll have to hold the ring for us, and do

some things around the service.”

 

“I would love to be the best man.” Bobby couldn’t stop grinning. “I never thought

about marriage before. This is a whole new view of things.”

 

Will, Ann, and the table exploded in a beam of fire. Bobby fell to the ground, arm

covered in flames. He rolled in the grass in pain. He couldn’t feel it as he tried to get

his brain to work again.

 

“I knew this would be the way to do things.” The familiar voice drifted to Bobby’s

ears from a million miles away. A hand grabbed his neck and picked him up off the

ground. “Time for you to die.”

 

Bobby took a breath and changed. The source of his power, the green spark, was also

the source of his enemy’s ability. Barbarossa changed also as his green spark flowed

into his intended victim. His light blue tunic, stained with darker patches of red,

became rags. His dark hair tied back in a knot became gray and brittle. Lines of time

ran down his face with liver spots keeping pace.

 

Bobby had replaced his initial tunic with a light blue shirt and pants. A pin shaped

like a twelve pointed star rode on his right breast. He glared at the man holding his

neck. Then the man fell to the ground with a hole through his skull.

 

Bobby turned his attention on his other enemies and walked toward them. He had

spared their lives because he had felt that it would be bad to just kill when you didn’t

have to do that. As he advanced on them, he thought maybe he had made a mistake

adhering to that philosophy.

 

Bad guys always thought they were more ruthless than good guys because they were

willing to take what they wanted. Sometimes they ran into a good guy who decided

that was enough. Then they found out someone was more ruthless than they were on

a personal level. 

 

Then it was too late for them to rethink what their plan should have been.

 

Bobby took in the scene in a second. Four of his most dangerous enemies, five if you

counted the dead Barbarossa, had driven to a house down the block from Will’s place.

They had exited the van they had used. Then they had killed Will and Ann with a heat

ray.

 

He had let them live for so long. He should have known better. His rage burned hot

as he closed with his enemies. They would regret what they had done for the few

seconds it would take to deal with them.

 

Dr. Rainey Sybil had lost most of his hair over the years, a few inches in height, and

accidentally inflicted several scars to his person from experiments that didn’t work

as well as he thought they should have. He stood behind the two bruisers he was

using for muscle with the heat ray smoking in his gloved hands.

 

The Butterfly perched on Sybil’s shoulder. This alien insect possessed mental abilities

that allowed it to control people, and a knowledge that allowed it to create machines

that surpassed anything on earth. Wings of gold glittered in the sun as it turned its

mental abilities against the oncoming enemy.

 

One of the muscle was Koal, an immortal caveman. He had tried to destroy

civilization to force it back to a society without technology. He carried his club in

both hands so he could swing it like a bat.

 

The other muscle was Paul Poindexter. He was known as the Spine. He was almost

as strong and durable as Bobby, and as smart as a rock. He was the perfect minion if

you could deal with his inability to carry out orders. The only thing he was good at

was the application of violence.

 

Bobby headed right at them at full speed.

 

Koal swung his club at Bobby’s head. It looked like freeze framed pictures to the

hero. He grabbed the club, smashed the caveman in the face with it, watched as the

face started healing, hit him with the club so hard the wood shattered into splinters.

 

Bobby grabbed his enemy by the neck and flung him straight up as hard as he could.

It would take a while for the caveman to fall back down. By that time, the fight would

be over.

 

The Spine leaped at Bobby. His fist moved almost as fast as Bobby. The hero let it

slip by. Another punch sliced the air in the hopes of knocking the hero out of the way.

 

Bobby grabbed Poindexter by the neck. He slammed him into the ground. He punched

the man in the face hundreds of times in a second. The villain’s invulnerability

prevented him from being hurt, but not from having his head drilled into the ground

and trapped there like debris in ice.

 

Bobby turned his attention to his last two foes. Sybil pointed the heat ray at him as

the Butterfly perched on the scientist’s shoulder. One trigger pull unleashed a beam

at their intended victim.

 

Bobby held out his hand and directed the beam into the Spine. The ray baked him into

the ground even more, turning some of it into glass on top of him as the beam heated

everything up.

 

Sybil cut the beam as Bobby rushed at him. The hero missed his grab. He paused as

his enemy tried to catch him with a different weapon from his belt. Ice formed from

the projector’s light. It covered Benson’s arm as he blocked the beam.

 

That was a mistake for the doctor.

 

Bobby dodged around the beam, and slammed into a shield Sybil had set up to protect

him and the Butterfly from harm. Benson froze against the wall as all of his force was

transmitted into the protective barrier.

 

“You’ll never get through that, Mark.” Sybil laughed in his high-pitched voice. “It

takes kinetic energy and makes the barrier stronger.”

 

Bobby grabbed the ground at the edge of the bubble and tore it up. That threw the

bubble into the air. He flew under it and headed into space.

 

He would deal with the Spine when he was done with his more dangerous enemies.

 

Bobby found Koal floating in orbit. He needed to put the caveman somewhere he

wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

 

He sent Sybil’s bubble heading toward Mars. The mad scientist probably had some

kind of flying device to prevent any ground entanglement. He was fine to use it in the

few seconds he would have before he was once again under scrutiny.

 

Bobby only planned to take that long with Koal because he didn’t want him falling

back to Earth and becoming a threat again. Sometimes it was best to make sure.

 

He grabbed the caveman by the back of the neck. He flung the frozen body at the Sun.

Let him spend the rest of his life in the gravity well of the Sun.

 

Bobby watched his projectile hit the outer shell of the sun. He firmed up his face, glad

that some of the anger was fading. He still had to deal with Sybil and the Butterfly.

 

He flew to where he had dropped the scientist and insect in the dust. He knew they

would try to think of some way back to Earth from their red crash site. He didn’t plan

to give them time for that.

 

Bobby spotted Sybil standing on the ground in a cloud of red dust. He had a gas

mask over his face to give him oxygen while he tinkered with his arsenal. The

enraged hero picked up the biggest piece of rock he could rip from the ground

and dropped it on his enemy. His shield would take the kinetic hit, but the mass

of the thing would push on the force field until it collapsed.

 

Psychic pain washed over him as he waited for the two villains to dig their way out.

He knew then they never would.

 

Bobby flew back to Earth. He found the Spine where he had left him. The man had

not been able to free himself from his cocoon in the short amount of time he had been

given.

 

Bobby grabbed him by the neck and ripped him free. The green spark made him

stronger by degrees than the other empowered superman. He held the man over his

head.

 

“I want you to say I have no spine.” Bobby didn’t recognize his own voice.

 

“I’ll never say I have no spine!” Poindexter froze as he reverted to normal in a dusting

of particles drifting to the ground.

 

Bobby closed his hand.

 

4063 words

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Sisters

1986-

Bobby Benson sat at his window. He looked out at the clouds roaming below, letting

his mind drift in memories. Sometimes he saw something that could have been if he

could change the past. It seemed better than the present.

 

He heard voices, and dismissed them at first. He was in his castle and was the only

one with a key. No one else should be wandering the featureless halls, many

stairwells, and rooms placed where the doors weren’t always present. He listened to

make sure he hadn’t really heard anything.

 

Someone exclaimed they were tired of wandering around without a sign post.

 

Bobby stood. His green spark washed away the old shirt and jeans he wore and

replaced it with the light blue suit and twelve-pointed star he favored for his other

face at the moment. His withered arm filled out with muscle as his body changed just

as easily as his clothes.

 

He flew down to where he had heard the voices. Maybe someone had wandered in

from the street. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. He directed them to where

they had to go, sometimes helping them with money or transport if they needed it.

 

He thought he had closed up the doors leading to the outside over the years. New

ones seemed to open on their own while he wasn’t looking.

 

He found three girls arguing over which direction to go. He stood in the hall and

listened as they tried to figure out where they could stay for the night.

 

The argument gave him the gist of their story. He knew a lot about being an orphan,

and trying to live on your own. These girls could go back to their orphanage and try

to get adopted, but they all wanted to be adopted together. He could see that being a

problem for prospective parents.

 

“Excuse me.” Bobby smiled so they wouldn’t freak out at his standing there. “The

door is that way.”

 

“Who are you supposed to be?” The oldest girl stepped in front of the other two. She

was slim and blond. She might be as old as thirteen, but Bobby had no idea.

 

“I’m the owner of this place.” Bobby crossed his arms. “Who are you three

trespassers?”

 

“We’re not trespassing.” The youngest, a black nine-year-old with hair pulled back

into a ball at the back of her head, peeked out from behind her older companion. “The

guy outside said we could find a place to live until we had something better.”

 

“Really?” Bobby shook his head. “Guy with a cigar and a beige coat?”

 

“Yes.” The middle girl nodded. She had a hand on the youngest girl’s shoulder. She

was close enough to the oldest girl to be a sister, except she was carrying a little more

weight.

 

Bobby should have known that Nobody was behind this.

 

He had his fingers in everything. Why would he con some kids to enter Cain’s castle?

Of course the same thing was how he had become the Mark in the first place.

 

“So you ran away from home.” Bobby hadn’t had a home before he took over for

Cain. He still remembered walking the street with the hope he wouldn’t be frozen by

the time the sun came up.

 

“It was just an orphanage.” The eldest spoke up. “They didn’t really care about us.”

 

“So you decided to break into someone’s home and squat.” Bobby frowned at the

three of them. “So you don’t want to go back.”

 

“You can’t make us.” The youngest glared at him. “We won’t go back.”

 

“I can make you,” said Bobby. “And if I take you back, you will stay. Threatening

kids is what I do. Come with me.”

 

“Why should we?” The oldest held her younger companions back.

 

“I’m going to give you a space while I think about this.” Bobby wondered if he was

doing the right thing.

 

He wasn’t mentor material in his own estimation. Maybe he should carry them back

to the orphanage and let someone else take them off his hands. He walked along the

similar corridors until he found a large door. He pushed the door open on a meadow

full of tall grass. Trees stood in the distance under the clear sky.

 

“Where did all this come from?” The middle girl held out her hands as she stepped

on the grass.

 

“It comes with the building.” Bobby whistled. He watched the grass. Swaying grass

told him that his summons had been heard.

 

A gopher lifted out the ground. He looked at the group with ears twitching. It

chattered quietly to itself.

 

“I’m trying to decide if I should keep them.” Bobby held out a hand. “What do you

think, Spiffy?”

 

The gopher dropped into the ground and tunneled over to where the group stood. He

came out of the ground and stood on his back legs to grab the hand.

 

“This is Spiffy.” Bobby picked up the gopher. The beast looked as big as a lion cub.

 

“I’m Eleanor,” said the eldest girl. “This is Carrie.” She pointed at the middle girl.

 

“And I’m Monique Teckina Natasha Brown,” said the youngest. “But you can call me

Money.”

 

Spiffy stretched out his head to sniff Money. Then he headbutted her as he dropped

to the ground. He ambled a few feet away and sat on his haunches. He chittered at

her.

 

“Why did he do that?” The girl rubbed her forehead.

 

“He wants you to chase him.” Bobby smiled. “He wants to play.”

 

“I’ll chase him all right.” She ran at the gopher, turning into lightning on the way. She

missed the animal as he sank into the ground in a cloud of dirt. A furrow led away

through the grass.

 

They crossed the meadow at high speed. The older girls stood shocked at their

adoptive sister flashing through the grass in bursts of lightning. She still wasn’t faster

than Spiffy who taunted her by bursting out of the ground and then diving under

again like a dolphin in the ocean.

 

“How is she doing that?” Eleanor looked up at Bobby. “She doesn’t have

superpowers.”

 

“Spiffy must have loaned her part of his.” Bobby shrugged. “I imagine he gets lonely

without someone to play with him.”

 

“You have a superpowered gopher?” Eleanor looked at the lightning in the grass.

 

“He belonged to a friend of mine.” Bobby shrugged. “I took him in when my friend

died.”

 

Bobby didn’t think they wanted to hear how his friend had been pulled into pieces

before she could activate her spark and defend herself.

 

“Will he give us powers too?,” Carrie asked. She brushed back her hair with her

hands.

 

“I doubt it.” Bobby smiled at her. “Hey, you two. Play time is over.”

 

“Ahhhh!” Money paused. “Really?”

 

“We’re going to eat.” Bobby waved her in. “I’ll bring you back something, Spiffy.”

 

The gopher chittered at him before sinking into the ground and burrowing away.

 

“Let’s go.” Bobby pulled the spark Spiffy had planted from the girl with a brush of

his hand through her hair. “Leave your stuff here. Spiffy will protect it.”

 

“Are you letting us stay?,” Carrie asked. She took their belongings and made three

piles next to the door.

 

“Depends on how dinner goes.” Bobby smiled at her. “Spiffy likes you and that’s a

good sign.”

 

“What’s a bad sign from Spiffy?,” Eleanor asked. She kept herself between Bobby

and the other two girls.

 

“He rips your arms off.” Bobby gestured for them to go first through the door. He

smiled to take the sting out of his words. “Don’t worry. He hasn’t done that in years.”

 

“That’s comforting.” Eleanor looked at her sisters. Their expressions said let’s go

ahead. “We don’t have a lot of money for food.”

 

“It’s on me today.” Bobby closed the door to Spiffy’s room and led the way toward

the outside door. “My treat.”

 

“Why?” Eleanor led the girls like a mother duck.

 

“Why not?” Bobby knew she was trying to protect her sisters. Being paranoid about

a stranger with a gopher just seemed like good sense to him.

 

He remembered his last day before becoming the Mark. He should have been more

paranoid when he talked with Cain.

 

“Come on.” Bobby opened the outside door. “I’ll let you get your gear back after

dinner if I decide you can’t stay.”

 

“Spiffy loves us.” Money protested as they stepped outside.

 

“Spiffy bit a man’s leg off out of spite.” Bobby closed the door after them. “Don’t

think he wouldn’t do the same to you.”

 

“Out of spite?” Carrie shook her head. “I don’t believe that for a minute. He’s totally

tame.”

 

“You keep thinking that.” Bobby led the way down the street. Buildings reached

into the sky all around them, but he steered them to a small diner between two other

buildings. He smiled when saw the sign still hadn’t been fixed. “I hope you’re ready

to chow down.”

 

“We can repay for anything like this.” Eleanor examined the place as Bobby walked

to the door.

 

“It’s on me.” Bobby opened the door and waved them to go inside. “I have a tab.”

 

“What’s a tab?” Money asked as she walked inside the diner.

 

“The restaurant keeps a tally of your bill so you can pay for a lot at the same time.”

Carrie pointed her to the bar stools that lined an ancient counter.

 

“Let’s use the big booth in the back.” Bobby led the way through the tables and

booths to a booth designed for eight people to sit in a circle.

 

They sat down. Eleanor sat between Bobby and her two sisters. He didn’t know

what she thought she could do to protect them if he wanted to do anything, but he

let it go.

 

“It’s the Mark.” A waitress with streaks of gray in her dark hair walked over in a red

shirt and black skirt. A glove covered one hand. A big knife was in a belt sheathe at

the small of her back. She smiled at the girls with genuine warmth. “And I see you

brought some kids with you this time.”

 

“Hello, Cassie.” Bobby smiled. “I need three specials and a reading.”

 

“Don’t know your own mind?” Cassie smiled as she shook her head. She walked

off. “Coming right up.”

 

“What did she mean?,” Carrie asked.

 

“This is the first time he’s asked for advice,” Eleanor said.

 

“What are Specials?,” Money asked.

 

“They are meals that have set items on them for a cheaper price.” Carrie brushed her

hair with a hand. “So we all eat the same thing.”

 

“Sounds like the orphanage cafeteria.” Money frowned at the thought of that.

 

“This is much better than any cafeteria.” Bobby looked out the window to one side

of the booth. “Cassie has the best food ever.”

 

“Then why aren’t you eating?” Eleanor raised an eyebrow at his not ordering for

himself.

 

“I already did.” Bobby smiled back at her. “What I’m getting is not on the menu.”

 

Cassie returned to the booth with a big serving tray. She placed three plates on the

table before handing Bobby a folded piece of paper. He opened it and read the

contents before putting the paper away in the breast pocket of his jacket.

 

“Which one?,” Bobby asked.

 

“Don’t be a jerk.” Cassie shook her head. “No one can tell you that.”

 

“This is exactly what I wanted.” Eleanor examined the plate of salad, yogurt, and

toast. “How did you know?”

 

Carrie picked up her triple hamburger with an eye roll. She took a bite and smiled.

 

“This is better than the orphanage.” Money dug into her pieces of chicken.

 

“I’ll bring you your drinks.” Cassie tucked the big tray under her arm. “Come by any

time.”

 

She retreated to the kitchen.

 

“What did the paper say?,” Eleanor asked as she put dressing on her salad.

 

“None of your business.” Bobby smiled at her.

6071

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...
The Robot Ranger Rescue

1990-

Tokyo was under attack by a giant made of stone when the three amateur heroines

arrived. They decided to fly over and get a look before asking the locals what the

cause could be before throwing their weight around. This was their first mission.

They didn’t want to mess it up before they got started.

 

“It has a central core.” Eleanor called to the others. “It’s hooked up to other smaller

cores. It looks like remains are inside the thing.”

 

“Remains?” Money grimaced as she flew at the front of a lightning bolt. “Dead

people?”

 

“Looks like,” Eleanor pointed to a tent on the ground. “Let’s see what the authorities

have to say.”

 

As they descended toward the tent, a giant of gray metal exploded from the city. It

punched the stone pile in the face with a wrecking ball fist. It followed up with a kick

to keep the attacker from the intact buildings.

 

“That’s one of the Robot Rangers.” Carrie smiled. “At least we won’t have to do this

alone.”

 

“That gives us more options.” Eleanor waved at the people on the ground as she

touched down. Her sisters touched down behind her to form a triangle. At least the

soldiers didn’t try to shoot at them.

 

“Excuse me,” said Eleanor in perfect Japanese. “We are here to help with your

problem.”

 

“Americans?,” said a man with untidy curls of red hair turning gray. “I’m Stanley

Craft. I’m the control for the Rangers.”

 

“I’m Elle Mark.” Eleanor indicated her sisters. “This is Blaster and Lightning. What

can you tell us before we get started?”

 

“The Rangers and I were doing research in the Sea of Japan when this started.” Craft

indicated a small jet to one side. “Apparently one of the local apartment buildings

came to life and ate its residents. Then it started toward downtown to eat as many

civilians as it could. We arrived and engaged it to keep the loss of life down. Growth

and Multiple are keeping it back while I try to think of a way of stopping this thing.”

 

“We should kneecap this joker, Elle.” Carrie looked at the stone giant. “That’ll keep

him from the people until we figure out how to stop it.”

 

“Right.” Elle frowned. “There’s no telling what would happen if we get close to the

core. It might try to take us and add us to the meal list.”

 

“If you can open the thing up, I can get a ranger inside to dismantle things.” Craft

touched his watch. “That will let us end this situation without anyone else getting

killed.”

 

“That won’t be a problem at least.” Elle looked at the stone giant. She agreed with her

sister. A kneecapping looked like the right thing to do.

 

“This is what we’re going to do.” Elle launched herself into the air. Her sisters joined

her. “Lightning is the distraction. Blaster and I hit the knees. It goes down. The legs

have small cores in them, so they have a space to let one of the Rangers in. If not,

we’ll have to blast a tunnel through the thing to get the core out. We don’t know if

that thing can use us for fuel, and I don’t want to find out.”

 

“Why do I always have to be the distraction?,” asked Money. She had picked a yellow

jumpsuit with a black stripe on the outside of the arms and legs to be her more heroic

dress. She still presented as the youngest, but her other form was her in the late teens,

instead of the fourteen year old she actually was.

 

Elle had settled on something that looked like what a figure skater would wear. It was

light green with the Mark’s twelve pointed star in the middle of her chest. She was

still slender but looked like someone in their late twenties.

 

Carrie had gone in for something that she had seen on television in the orphanage.

She had always liked Mrs. Peel, so she had copied the black leather look in light

purple. She looked like a late twenties woman who had become a lot curvier with age.

 

“You’re the fastest.” Elle shook her head. “And you leave a visible trail.”

 

“When you put it that way, I am pretty great,” said Money.

 

“Let’s do this before I have a panic attack.” Carrie looked at the giant’s legs. “Which

leg you want, Elle?”

 

“I’ll take the right.” Eleanor frowned as she gauged the distance. “We’re going to

need room to make our runs. Go ahead, Money. We’ll be back in a couple of

seconds.”

 

“On it, sister.” Money flew down at the giant’s head. She created a ribbon across its

vision with her lightning trailing behind her as she circled around the thing.

 

Eleanor and Carrie flew out over the ocean and then turned around. They headed back

to land, burning the air with their passage. They corrected for the ranger slamming

into his enemy while it was distracted. Then they sliced through the back of the knees

in a one-two punch. The giant fell on its back, trying to recover by boosting its upper

body with its hands. That allowed the ranger to kick it when it was down.

 

A cube of gray matter hurried out from cover on legs that were stubs with feet at the

bottom of them. It threw itself into the opened channel created when the right shin

had separated from the right thigh of the stone giant.

 

Another of Rangers adapted himself into a pump to pull water from a broken water

main and spray it into the leg after his colleague.

 

Eleanor caught a giant fist trying to strike at the giant ranger. She held it back with

both hands as she waited for the Rangers to finish the job. How long could it take?

 

She glanced at the inner workings of the living machine. The ranger filled all of the

inside heading toward the chest. All of the orbs inside the machine were knocked

down from their web of tissue as the robot expanded with the help of the water.

 

The ranger hit the central core and tore it lose in a liquid metal wave. The orb hit an

inner wall and broke apart. The fist that Eleanor was holding back collapsed to the

ground in pieces.

 

The part of the left leg that had been separated from the main mass started to change

as the main body collapsed into a pile of concrete and steel beams. It took on a more

humanoid appearance and picked itself up on two legs.

 

A giant metal foot came down on the smaller block man. The weight of it crushed the

menace against the street. Its central core popped like a balloon under the impact.

 

“I didn’t get to do much on this,” said Money. “I thought we would have something

to make us famous.”

 

“Shoot some lightning in that other shin piece.” Eleanor pointed at the other foot. It

was still intact. “I don’t want it to get up and start moving around.”

 

“On it.” Money dropped down so she could see the hole in the top of the shin. She

pointed both hands. Lightning blasted into the inner workings of the thing. It

collapsed immediately.

 

“That takes care of that.” Eleanor smiled. “This heroing business might be easier than

I thought.”

 

“What do we do now?,” asked Money. “Go home, get something to eat, find a club?”

 

“We help clean this mess up.” Carrie smiled at her expression. “That is part of our

job.”

 

“Where do we start?” Money looked down on the path of destruction. It was a miracle

if no one else had been hurt in all this.

 

“I guess we should ask the authorities where they want things.” Eleanor nodded at the

soldiers coming out on the battlefield. “Then we can start helping move things

around.”

 

“This was pretty easy.” Money smiled. “I thought it would be harder.”

 

“We’ll be on body detail unless they think some civilians survived this.” Carrie shook

her head. “That’ll be hard enough.”

 

“Oh, not that,” said Money. “Can we pass?”

 

“No.” Carrie shook her head at her younger sister. “Who else could get to them?”

 

“I’m not liking that all,” said Money. She descended on a lightning bolt to land in

front of the scientist they had talked to earlier.

 

“Nice job, ladies.” Dr. Craft and an older Japanese man with gray hair and neat

mustache smiled. “The Mark would be proud.”

 

“How else can we help, Doctor?” Eleanor doubted the Mark would be proud. He

might say good job, or something. Spiffy might give them a friendly headbutt.

 

“My associate, Dr. Yamada, has asked me to request that you help with rescue work.”

Craft indicated the other man. “The Rangers are also going to help out until we move

things out of the city, and find all the survivors.”

 

“We can do that.” Eleanor glanced at her sisters. They nodded to confirm they would

help out. “We’ll fly over to where the attack began and start looking around.”

 

“Thank you.” Craft said something in Japanese. The other man nodded. He responded

with several short sentences. “Dr. Yamada said the attack started five miles away to

the west.”

 

“We’ll find it.” Eleanor nodded. “Thanks.”

 

The trio took to the air, heading west. The trail of destruction was obvious from the

air. They headed for the original resting point of the altered building.

 

Some people were trying to help others from the wreckage with whatever they had

at hand.

 

“Let’s get to work.” Eleanor flew down and lifted a car off a trapped woman.

7685

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...
Make Your Mark

2017-

Bobby Benson looked up at the sky over New York. The words that had come with

his reading so long ago leaped into his mind.

 

ALL OF YOU, OR ONLY ONE OF YOU.

 

He knew this was the decision that would make those words come true. He just didn’t

think it would take so long.

 

“What are you thinking, Bobby?” Eleanor dropped down out of the sky, long light

blue dress flowing around her. A green twelve pointed star marked one shoulder.

 

“Someone has to buy time for the rest of you to save the world.” Bobby wore his light

blue suit, star for a tie clip. He smiled at her. “I’m proud of you girls. I knew letting

you stay was a good decision. It was maybe the best decision I ever made.”

 

“There’s no way you can stop this.” Eleanor pushed her blond hair out of her face.

“The magicians and the Lamplighters have a plan. Let them carry it out.”

 

“I need you to take care of your sisters in all this chaos.” Bobby drew on his mantle.

“I’ll see you when I get back.”

 

“You’re not coming back.” Eleanor looked like she was about to cry. “How could

you?”

 

“Someone has to defend the planet.” Bobby smiled. “That’s my job, and has been

since you were a baby. I kind of slacked up on it, but I never could quite give it up.

It has been a pleasure, Eleanor. Thank you for being my friend.”

 

“Thank you for being a dad.” Eleanor found herself talking to the air. The Mark had

exploded into the air before his last words reached her.

 

Bobby crashed through the descending front line of the invasion force. They hadn’t

expected his level of force being applied to their ships and armor. And when it was,

parts of alien cephalopods rained down on the street.

 

He crossed into the cloud that denoted where Earth was mixing with another place

and time. He flew out the other side, catching the invaders by surprise. A human

torpedo crashing through their launching platforms sent bent metal and aliens flying

from the entrance.

 

He spotted a giant flaming tree in the distance. This tree had eyes of green flame and

a mouth to match. It glared at him as he closed on it. It was the biggest thing around,

and it had to be stopped to help the others on Earth.

 

The Mark hit his enemy as hard as he could. Saving the Earth meant cutting loose

with everything he had. He hadn’t done that in a long time. Since he had killed

Barbarossa, very few of his enemies could match the sheer power given him by the

green spark.

 

Bobby realized he might have bitten off more than he could chew. Punching through

the burning tree did nothing to stop it. It directed more of the invaders to launch

through the portal with a wave of its limbs.

 

He crashed into the mass after a flying start. He disrupted their assembly by throwing

flying gunships that resembled crabs into each other. The crews abandoned ship or

blew up when their boats collided with each other.

 

He was holding them back. That was all he could really do. Hopefully the

Lamplighters and their allies planned how to shut the portal down from the other side.

 

Two colossi of stone and metal sprang to life from a floating mountain drifting by the

mustering point. They stepped forward, reaching for Bobby as he flung a soldier

away.

 

Bobby knocked the head off one with one blow. He didn’t watch it sail away across

the liquid sky. The other one swung a massive fist he had to dodge. Then he flew

straight in like a bullet and punched a tunnel through the second colossus’s head. It

dropped to a planetoid and refused to move.

 

Bobby looked around to see what he could wreck next. He hoped he was helping the

others with this big move. He might be able to turn most of the invaders back before

they jumped across to Earth.

 

He wondered how the others were doing. How were they handling the ones that

were getting through? He knew that his girls, the Lamplighters, and the Rangers

were on the scene. Hopefully they were holding the invasion to the scene of the

beachhead.

 

Was he really helping with this solo effort?

 

He grabbed a flying boat and rammed it into another one. However much he doubted

he could hold the forces back, he was creating chaos in their ranks. That had to

create extensive delays in getting to Earth to set up.

 

And his girls were fast enough to take out groups of these alien soldiers on their own.

Help would allow them to expand their net.

 

Sheer numbers could wear the defenders down, but he hoped he was keeping those

numbers down with the destruction he was causing.

 

The burning tree stepped across the landscape and swung multiple limbs as one. He

ducked the blow. So the general had decided to take him on while the army kept

going without him getting in the way.

 

“I have had enough of your interference.” The voice was a thousand fingernails on

chalkboards eating at his mind. “It is time for you to be removed from my sight.”

 

Bobby waited for her next move. He was the one who had to buy time. The longer

he could hold her in place, the more time the others had to stop this.

 

Beams of spellfire leapt from her multiple gnarled hands. They swept toward him

in lockstep waves. He flew out of their way, blinking across the sky to avoid the

burning symbols that made up the rays.

 

Bobby charged in and swung with all the power he had. He landed his haymaker,

noting that it caved the bark of the face he had smashed. A second later, the crater

popped out while he wound up to hit with his other hand.

 

He could be in for a slugfest as long as he could keep hitting her more than she could

hit him.

 

He doubted that he could kill her. He just wasn’t strong enough to do more than

inconvenience her at this point. He realized that but he knew he had to try. He

couldn’t let his adopted daughters down. He had to do as much as possible until

the dimensional rip was sewed back up from the other side.

 

Anything after that would be gravy as far as he was concerned.

 

He slammed into her face again, swinging with both hands. That rocked her head

back on the tree trunk body she had. Flames hissed from her eye holes as she fought

to keep from going over.

 

She exhaled a sheet of flame at him. He dropped out of the way close enough to

smell the air burning from the assault.

 

He didn’t think he could take a hit from anything that powerful. It made his green

spark look like a double a battery next to a nuclear power plant.

 

He slammed into her chin to shut her mouth up. He didn’t need her wrecking havoc

with her bad breath in his world.

 

A wave of wooden hands crashed into him. He flew into a planetoid and dug a crater

in the rock. He staggered to his feet as the tree came on.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t let the thing him with its body, along with its spell power.

 

“You don’t have a chance against me.” The tree held up all of its hands. They all

glowed. “I’m the Queen of Genn, Sister of the Destroyer, Mother of the Myriad. You

are nothing to me with your pitiful piece of magic.”

 

“I’m the Mark.” Bobby felt more energy pour into him from his green spark. It had

to be enough to get the job done. “I won’t let you pass. Call off your invasion.”

 

“You can’t stop me from passing.” The Queen of Genn laughed at the absurdity of his

demand. “You have thrown my children in disarray for the moment, but that is of no

consideration to me. You can’t stop the inevitable joining of your world to mine.”

 

“I can try.” The Mark launched himself in the air. He had to keep pushing against

her until she gave up. He wasn’t going to overpower her. She had regeneration to

burn against his attacks.

 

“Stubbornness in the face of destiny will only cause your extermination sooner

than the rest of your breed.” The Queen flung her spells from her hands with a roar

of flame from her crowning branches.

 

Bobby dodged most of the spells. He moved like lightning in the air. His reflexes

were also heightened so he didn’t crash into things while trying to make turns at high

speed.

 

A net spread out in front of him. He tried to fly over its golden threads, but it wrapped

around his legs. Pain shot through his body as he tried to pull away from the net.

 

More of the sticky spell work covered him as he tried to rip the strands already

wrapped around his legs. Soon he was cocooned into immobility by the layers of

netting.

 

Bobby tried to pull away from the Queen, pulling on the net like a fish on a hook. She

yanked him back so she could grab him with her many hands.

 

“It’s time you learned your place in the many worlds.” She marched to the cloud

that denoted the boundary. “It’s time your world learned its place.”

 

Bobby struggled inside the netting. He had to get free so he could get out of her grip

and keep up the battle. He had to buy more time for the others.

 

“You can’t avoid your fate.” The Queen of Genn formed a bridge through the

boundary and emerged over New York.

 

Bobby wondered if he had made the wrong choice trying to shape the future to

something that he wanted to happen instead of what would happen. Had he moved

things too far and doomed his family?

 

What if he had doomed the world by trying to play the Lone Ranger?

 

Who would look after his kids now?

 

“I, the Queen of Genn, the Sister of the Destroyer, the Mother of the Myriad, the Sun

of a Million Lands, pronounce sentence on this miserable place for the crime of

accepting my rebellious daughter as one of your own.” The burning tree held up her

prize in her grasp. An image covered the world so everyone could see what was going

to happen. “You will all be exterminated just like this hero who tried to stop me.”

 

The net around Bobby caught fire as magic poured down on him. He felt the green

spark in his body being ripped out. Then he blew apart in a cloud of ash and smoke.

 

Cassie’s cryptic reading passed through his mind as he burned away.

 

He knew he had made the right choice and bought the time the others needed to save

the world.

 

9543

Link to comment
Share on other sites

New Girl

2017-

Lynette Harkness stood on the roof of her apartment building in her training suit. She

looked at the massive cloud hovering over the island of Manhattan. She must have

lost her mind to think she could make a difference in the chaos that had overtaken the

city.

 

She must be crazy. Her dad would give her a lecture about trying to jump ahead,

when she was still trying to crawl. She frowned behind her face concealing mask.

This was an all hands emergency. She couldn’t just sit it out when people needed her.

 

She work things out with her dad later.

 

Her danger indicator flashed on the inside of her mask every time she moved her

head. It indicated the cloud was the biggest source of danger in white digital clock

numbers. Smaller numbers flashed in that direction, but twelve o’clock flashed more

often than the others.

 

A scream drifted up from one of the alleys around her building. The visor dropped a

crosshair in the direction of the scream’s owner. She ran to the edge of the roof and

jumped to the next building.

 

Lynette’s boots were designed to hook into any surface she stood on and support her

weight as much as possible. Running across roofs became safer when you could run

up and down walls.

 

She paused at the edge of the roof and looked down. A woman was being menaced

by a tree in armor. The thing held a spear with a flaming blade in two of its limb-like

hands. A man was down on the alley floor.

 

Lynette took a breath. She had an enemy of unknown capability. He was a threat

to civilians. Protecting the woman was first. Then she had to deal with the wounded

man. That way they both could survive the night.

 

“Net gun, right arm.” The array in her right gauntlet changed with a click. “Line gun,

left arm.”

 

Lynette raised her right arm. A crosshair appeared on her target. She clenched her

hand. A diamond-shaped projectile unfurled into a spider’s web. It wrapped around

the target and glued him to the wall behind him. He started sawing at the strands with

his spear’s blade.

 

She couldn’t let him do that.

 

She raised the other arm and shot another of the diamonds across the alley. The

missile extended a line of rope behind it as it smashed against the wall opposite her

to form an anchor. She dropped down from her perch, letting the line retract slowly

so she wouldn’t hit the alley floor.

 

She dropped down on the soldier with both feet extended. Her suit gave her limited

superstrength. She would never be able to hit as hard as the Mark, but she had

enough to ruin someone’s day. He cracked under the impact, but he didn’t stop trying

to get out of the net.

 

Lynette grabbed the shaft of the spear. She yanked it out of his grasp. Then she swung

it like a baseball against the monster’s head. That took some of the fight out of him.

 

“He stabbed Paul.” The woman went to her husband. “I can’t believe it.”

 

Lynette had some first aid, but it wasn’t enough in this situation. She listened and the

guy was still breathing. That had to be something.

 

Her danger indicator lit up. She turned her head as a spear flew by her. Apparently

the one guy she put down had a bunch of friends. She didn’t know if the training

suit could take a direct hit, and didn’t want to find out.

 

“Full Auto Net Guns,” Lynette pointed her gauntlets at the crowd. Suddenly the air

was full of projectiles as she shot at whatever was in her crosshairs first. The webs

glued the hostile soldiers together in a pack. They went down, struggling to free

themselves from their bonds.

 

Lynette turned on her radio. “Man down on the eight hundred block of East 40th

street. I need an ambulance and a van to haul away prisoners.”

 

“Lynette?” The voice of her dad came through loud and clear. “What are you doing?”

 

“Nothing, Dad.” Lynette shrugged at the woman. “I have a stabbing victim. I need

him picked up.”

 

“All right.” Her dad didn’t sound like it was all right. “Help is on the way. Stay out

of this. Go home.”

 

“I can’t, Dad.” Lynette frowned as her danger indicator started feeding her numbers.

“It looks like they are sending in troops right where I am. I am going to have to

protect civilians in the way.”

 

“You are so grounded.” Harkness muted his end for a second. “All right. I asked a

friend to bail you out. Then I want you to go home until I get home.”

 

“I will be glad to do that.” Lynette had no attention of going home. The city had to

be protected, and she had her training suit. She could protect herself.

 

“Got to go, Dad.” Lynette cut the radio off. More of the enemy soldiers were flooding

into the alley from the far end. Her crosshair lit up as they crossed her field of vision.

It was time to get to work.

 

She sent more net bullets at them as they marched toward her. Some tried to cut

the nets as they expanded. That just wrapped the net around their arms holding

them together as the web contracted.

 

The reloading warning kicked on below the danger indicator. She had used up too

much ammunition on these foot soldiers. She had to go hand to hand until the

shooters came back online.

 

She looked around. The woman she was protecting had picked up a brick that had

been on the ground. She stood over the stabbed man. If the aliens were going to kill

her husband, it was going to be over her dead body.

 

Lynette hoped she didn’t get stabbed to match him.

 

The first soldier through the pile went for the stab to the face that she anticipated.

She grabbed the body of the spear, yanked him into a kick in the face. She reversed

the spear and stabbed him in the lower leg with it. Then she pulled, spun and broke

the spear across his cylindrical head.

 

The shaft caught fire on the broken end. She flung it at the next soldier as he climbed

over his trapped fellows.

 

Lynette used a wall to get over her next two attackers, and attack a third. She

delivered a kick that vibrated her leg. She needed to stick to using weapons against

these goons.

 

She dodged several spear points, using the walls to keep out of reach of

counterattack. She could see they were frustrated at her holding them up in a little

alley while the rest of their mob did whatever it could. Some of the netted ones had

been trapped with their spear blades next to their skins. That couldn’t be pleasant for

them.

 

The reloading icon switched to ready. She smiled beneath her mask. Now she could

take care of business.

 

“Single Shot Net Guns,” Lynette ordered her weapons control. The crosshair

lit up green everywhere she looked. She had nothing but targets below her.

 

She began plastering targets to keep them away from the couple at the other end of

the alley. She only had one more reload. She had to make every shot count.

 

Her shooting filled the alley with cocooned bodies. The language they used sounded

like gibberish, but it was easy to tell what they were saying from the tone. They were

saying ‘Fudge’, but not really. She could live with that.

 

The tree soldiers’ big brother dropped in the street. Glass shattered on impact. He

looked around with eyes of flame in his wooden head. He half-turned to raise an arm

to point at the mouth of the alley.

 

“That can’t be good.” Lynette ran down to where the couple were. She had to get

them out of the way. She realized she should have done that sooner. It didn’t matter

how wounded the husband was, she should have gotten them out of the way before

she had trapped the army.

 

She might have killed them with her mistake.

 

The giant’s hand opened up to reveal fire inside his arm. He smiled as he summoned

his attack forward. Killing prey was the best feeling the Queen allowed.

 

“Line gun, right arm.” Lynette fired the projectile as she grabbed the man off the

ground. She flung him over her shoulder as she grabbed the woman and held her with

her arm. The line retracted as she ran at the tank.

 

She leaped into the air, running along the tank’s wooden body, before swinging

across the street. She didn’t think she was going to get the three of them to safety

in time. All it had to do was turn and fire as she swung across the open space.

 

A streak of lightning descended from the sky. It became a woman in yellow, hovering

between the weapon arm and the intended target. The tank fired at her instead. She

knocked the shot back with an open hand.

 

“I don’t have time to play around with you, big boy.” Lightning blasted through

the tank, shattering it into flinders. “I got things to do.”

 

“The Mark’s Lightning?” Lynette balanced her burden as she stood on the wall above

the street. “You’re Dad’s friend?”

 

“The impression I got was you’re not supposed to be wearing that outfit in public.”

Lightning smiled. “Your dad was a little bit irritated.”

 

“Could you take these people to the hospital?” Lynette held out the two people she

fought to keep safe. “I would like to finish my patrol before Dad gets home to ground

me.”

 

“There’s no patrol.” Lightning took the couple in her arms. “You go home, missy.”

 

She flew off in a bolt of lightning, taking the intended victims with her.

 

“I, the Queen of Genn, the Sister of the Destroyer, the Mother of the Myriad, the Sun

of a Million Lands, pronounce sentence on this miserable place for the crime of

accepting my rebellious daughter as one of your own.” A giant burning tree held up

the Mark in her grasp as she stepped out of the cloud over the city. She stood on a

parapet of stone. An image covered the world so everyone could see what was going

to happen. “You will all be exterminated just like this hero who tried to stop me.”

 

Lynette felt tears cloud her eyes as the Mark burned away in front of everyone in the

city. She took a moment to compose herself.

 

She wanted to be a heroine like her father and mother. She had even more reason to

carry on the family business now.

 

11344

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...
A Parley

2015- 

Jason Parley looked at the gates, and the mansion beyond. Business had been good

for Robert Tortelli. He could understand wanting to keep that business against all

comers. Too bad that the King had arrived, and expectations had to be laid out.

 

“What are we doing here, Jace?” Gus Greer sat behind the wheel of their unmarked

car. His partner had changed in the last five years in a frightening way. He hadn’t

crossed the line yet, but it was only a matter of time. “We shouldn’t be here.

Especially not now.”

 

The reason they shouldn’t be there was Lily Krantz, an 83 year old accountant. She

had witnessed a crime that was tied back to Tortelli and his goons. The Cap had

ordered Parley and Greer to guard her until trial. That was why she was sitting in the

back seat listening to the detectives talk.

 

“Drive around, Gus.” Parley opened the door. “I’m just going to have a talk.”

 

“This is a bad move, Jace.” Greer stared at his partner. “It could be considered

tampering.”

 

“I’m just going to have a talk with the man.” Jason turned a smile on his partner. The

lightning bolt scar on his forehead seemed to gleam against his pale skin. “Just drive

around the block until I come out.”

 

“What if you don’t come out?,” asked Mrs. Krantz from the back seat. “They could

kill you.”

 

“Then I expect you to avenge me.” Parley smiled at her. The thought of a retired

grandma taking on the mob was the stuff of movies. “Don’t worry. It’ll be a snap.”

 

Parley got out of the car and headed up to the gate. The automobile pulled off at a

sedate pace. Gus was an expert driver. If he wanted to crash the party, he could

despite his self-doubt.

 

Parley paused at the gate. Two men stood guard on the other side. They looked at him

with a bored expression. He knew that he didn’t look that impressive, barely making

the height requirement, wearing a rumpled suit, old cowboy boots on his feet.

 

He thought he was the more dangerous of the three of them. But, he admitted, most

fighting people did.

 

“Open the gate, please.” Parley stood with his hands in his pockets.

 

“Got a warrant?” The bigger man on the left moved to stand right next to the bars on

the other side. “Otherwise, no. Mr. Tortelli is too busy to see you.”

 

“There’s an easy way and a hard way to this.” Parley scratched the side of his head

with an index finger. “The easy way is to let me by and go in peace. The hard way is

to impede me and never open a gate again, much less hold a spoon to feed yourself.

Now is the time to think.”

 

“The answer is still no, cop.” The man pointed down the street with his thumb. “Beat

it.”

 

Parley grabbed the man’s tie and yanked him into the bars of the gate. He did it again

to make sure the man was too stunned to stop him. He pulled the keeper’s arms

through the bars and twisted his hands. Cracking of bone followed the move. He

turned to the other man, pistol in hand.

 

“Do you want what he got?,” Parley asked.

 

The man held up his hands, shaking his head.

 

“Open the gate and let me by.” Parley put the pistol away. “It will be better for

you in the long run.”

 

The second man did what he was told, opening the gate with one hand while holding

his other up. He stepped back, raising the other hand.

 

“Take your friend to the hospital.” Parley stepped through the opened portal. “They

might be able to save his arms if you hurry.”

 

Parley walked through the grass island in the middle of the circular driveway leading

to the big house. He stepped over the three steps to a stone stage three feet wide. He

knocked on the door. Pebbled glass sat in insets on either side of the door, and above

the frame. He didn’t see a peephole so he supposed the door man had to open the door

to see who was visiting.

 

The door open like he expected. A goon looked down at him. He shoved the door out

of the way and stepped across the threshold.

 

“You can’t come in here.” The goon held up his hands. “Get out of here.”

 

“I’m here to talk to Mr. Tortelli.” Parley shook his head. “Once I am done, I will

leave. Getting in my way is only going to get you hurt. Be wise and stand aside for

the amount of time I am going to take. I would hate to dash your brains out in an

instant if you keep standing there.”

 

The tone of Parley’s voice said he would love to dash someone’s brains out in an

instant, and he didn’t care how many those brains happened to be.

 

“I’ll get in trouble if I don’t at least try.” The door man looked down the hall. “You’re

going to have to go.”

 

Parley punched him in the face so fast it was like he barely moved before the man

crashed against the wall and fell to the floor. He made sure he hadn’t killed the man

before he continued his march to the middle of the mansion.

 

The Organized Crime boys said Tortelli had a room in the middle of his place where

he did business. No one had been able to bug it successfully. They were sure he had

put it in the middle of the house to help defend it from them.

 

Parley found the door to the room. He knocked on it and frowned at the metallic thud

that answered. He found a button beside the door and pressed it. He noted the

presence of a camera and a speaker. He placed his badge in plain view of the camera.

 

“Who are you?” The voice sounded like it was ready for a fight.

 

“Jason Parley.” Parley put his badge in his pocket. “Open the door for me.”

 

“Or what?” The question might have been innocent enough, or maybe the owner felt

that Parley wouldn’t do anything since he was a cop.

 

“I start breaking your decor.” Parley picked up a vase with a bunch of flowers in it.

“When I am done, I will burn the place down whether you open the door, or not.”

 

“Put that down.” The voice didn’t quite sound scared.

 

“Oops.” Parley opened his hands and dropped the vase. He caught it before it could

hit the floor. “I wonder how many pieces I can break this into with one kick.”

 

The door hissed open. The group of men looking at him were not the picture of

happiness. He smiled at them as he put the vase back on its stand.

 

“Hello, Slim.” Parley stepped into the room, identifying the one man who was not

nervous or angry that he was there. Slim Servo was a fair bodyguard with a realistic

expectation of what he could do in any situation. He had probably advised them not

to open the door under any circumstances on the grounds he couldn’t protect any of

them from Parley’s rage.

 

That earned a little respect from the King.

 

“What do you want, cop?” Tortelli was a tall man, bulky like his men, wearing a

better suit. He sat behind a desk with a glass top. Papers covered the top.

 

“You’re on trial for RICO charges.” Parley hooked his thumbs in his belt. “The

prosecution only has one witness. I am guarding that witness. Ordinarily, I would just

kill you and make my job that much easier. Naturally I would have to kill everyone

in this room to make sure there were no reprisals.”

 

The six men meeting with Tortelli drew back as if they had discovered a hungry lion

within touching distance.

 

“That’s some talk.” Tortelli leaned back from his desk. One hand tried to open a

drawer without his visitor noticing.

 

“If your hand pulls a weapon out of that drawer, you will see how prepared I am to

back my talk up.” Parley gave him a bored look. “The only one of you likely to

survive is Slim. That’s because he is closest to the door.”

 

The other men realized that Parley stood between them and the exit. If something

happened, they would have to roll over him to get out of the office. And they were

between the detective and Tortelli. Bullets would fly right through them if things

went bad.

 

Servo was on the other side, and could slide out of the room while the other men were

fighting for their lives.

 

“My partner feels I should let the criminal justice system do what it will.” Parley’s

expression showed how much he thought of that idea. “He doesn’t want to have to

explain why I kill every criminal I come across. I respect that. Paperwork is a pain.

That’s why I decided to give you options so I don’t have to hear the complaints.

 

“The first option is you leave the city, and don’t come back. You can run your

territory from somewhere else using the Internet.”

 

“I’m not doing that.” Tortelli was close to pulling the weapon from his desk. Only the

prior warning held him back.

 

“The second option is for you to stand your trial. As long as you leave my witness

alone, you can do whatever you want to get out of a conviction. If anything were to

happen to my witness, I will be unhappy and I will come back and kill you, your

associates, your family, suppliers, anyone even connected to your businesses in any

way.”

 

Parley’s delivery was cold and exact. His eyes had deadened into things like brown

marbles in his face. 

 

“What else do you got?” Tortelli planned to grab the pistol in his desk and shoot this

crazy man. No one threatened him in his own home.

 

“I kill you all now.” Parley flexed his wrist, loosening up his arm. “Once I start, all

of you will have to die.”

 

Tortelli looked at Slim. The gunman had inched closer to the door. He was two steps

away from freedom. The boss had the idea that Slim had run into this guy before

and had a fair idea of what he could do.

 

And what he could do was kill everyone in the room.

 

“Let’s say I agree to this, what do I get out of this?” Tortelli put both hands on the

top of his desk.

 

“You get a fair warning whenever our paths cross.” Parley didn’t smile. “I’m only

interested in murders. Everything else is yours. If you kill anyone else in my city, it

had better be more justified than he was in my way.”

 

“What does that even mean?” Tortelli knew what it meant and he looked at the

lieutenants in the room. They knew what it meant too from the looks on their faces.

 

“It means that as long as your operations don’t kill anyone, you will probably not see

me again. If they do, I expect a name so I can arrest that person.” Parley looked

around the room. “It’s the same deal I gave Swift Morgan.”

 

“Swift Morgan is dead.” Tortelli wished he dared take a drink from the glass of water

in front of him. “He got chopped to pieces.”

 

“He chose option three.” Parley smiled. “Be seeing you, partner.”

 

He walked from the room.

13270

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Return of the King

2010-

Jason Parley paused at the front of the disused church he had been summoned to. He
had left his uniform cap in his car so his brown hair fought with the wind that was
kicking up. He looked around, but didn’t see a complainer. Did he go in, or did he
search for the caller?
 
Parley decided to go in. If the complaint was a false alarm, he could write it up and
go back on patrol. If something was going on, he wouldn’t know unless he went in
any way.
 
Another patrol car rolled to a stop next to his. The other officer turned on his lights
before getting out. Gus Greer rubbed his bald head as he walked over to join Parley
at the bottom of the steps leading into the church.
 
“Going in?” Gus checked the street as he touched the butt of the department issued
pistol at his hip. 
 
“Yeah.” Parley drew his own pistol. “If you want to take the back, I’ll check the
inside. It’s probably a prank call.”
 
“All right.” Greer made a face. “If someone comes out, I’ll grab them.”
 
“If it looks like something I can’t handle, I’ll call for backup.” Parley smiled. “If it’s
a prank, I’ll write it up for the watch.”
 
“You’re on.” Greer went back down the steps and started around to the back of the
building.
 
Parley tried the doorknob. He paused when the knob turned under his touch. He
assumed that when the congregation left, they had locked up behind them. Maybe he
was wrong about that.
 
He pushed the door open as quietly as possible. He stepped inside and closed the door
behind him. He didn’t bother with a flashlight, instead waiting on his eyes to adjust
to the ambient light coming through the stained glass windows.
 
He heard a noise somewhere behind the raised stage at the other end of the room. He
looked to either side as he walked down the central aisle. No one seemed to be in the
main room with him.
 
He stepped on the stage. He seemed to remember a couple of doors that led to the
back of the building. Living quarters and an administrative office for the priest 
should be behind these doors. He decided to clear the building as best he could before
worrying how it would look in a report.
 
He pushed open the door on the left hand side of the stage. He paused to listen.
Someone was singing in a monotone way down there. He advanced through the door.
 
Who could be in an abandoned church in the middle of the night? The answer to that
question suggested itself as bums trying to find a place inside from the mild weather
the city had been having of late.
 
Parley doubted it was something as simple as squatters. Maybe he had some devil
worshippers, or voodoo masters, practicing their rites in a place the public didn’t use
any more. A deconsecrated church would be perfect for that.
 
He wondered how he knew that. It had surfaced in his memory, but he didn’t recall
where he had picked that thought up.
 
He decided he could worry about his brain, when he was done with his search. So far,
the only thing out of place was the singing in a foreign language. He felt he should
know the words, but the meaning slipped through his mental fingers. He would figure
it out when he was done.
 
Parley moved down the stairs toward the bottom of the church. He turned his radio
volume down so he wouldn’t be heard. Figuring out why someone was in the building
was next on his list, now that he knew someone was there.
 
He paused at a door at the bottom of the stairs. Did he want to go through that door
without backup? Did he need backup?
 
He pushed the door open gently. He took a look through the crack. A circle of men
stood around a makeshift table. Someone was chained down on the table. One of the
circle held a white sword over his head as he said some words.
 
That sword didn’t belong there. It belonged to him. He tried to shake off the feeling,
but it seized his mind. The sword should be in his hands. Rage filled him. No one else
was going to use his sword to kill anyone.
 
Parley walked into the room. He shot the speaker as he went to bring the sword down
on his victim. The speaker’s hands opened and flung the sword at him as he stepped
into the room. He reached up and caught it with one hand as he brought the blade
around in a circle. Two of the chorus fell over in separate pieces as he completed his
circle.
 
Lightning ran up the blade of the sword, lighting the jagged scar on his forehead. He
advanced down to the table. Memories flooded through his mind as he walked
forward.
 
Parley was just the latest mask he wore. His job was just the latest that he had taken
up. He was the King now that he held his sword again.
 
He was the King, and he always would be even if he walked the Earth a thousand
more times.
 
The chorus decided to break for the door. He let them. If he ran into them again, he
would know them. Then he would mete out long delayed justice.
 
He brought down the blade of his sword down on the chains holding their intended
victim to the table they had turned into an altar. He noted that it was a boy. He
appeared malnourished and pale as moonlight. He had colored his hair like a parrot’s
feathers.
 
“You shot me.” The spell caster lay on the floor. Blood surrounded him like a dark
halo. “I was supposed to complete the summons. The blood was supposed to bring
the Kittikaen again.”
 
“Have better luck with that in your next life.” Parley’s scar and eyes glowed to match
the sword in his hand.
 
Smoke boiled up from the blood on the concrete floor. Parley stepped back. He stood
between the cloud and the drugged victim on the floor. He spun the sword in his
hand, shifting his grip on it.
 
It looked like the summons had been sent after all.
 
The cloud parted to reveal a face with too many eyes and too many mouths. One of
the larger eyes had been sliced apart from the looks of things. Scars crossed the eye.
 
“I forbid you to come across the boundary.” Parley gripped the lightning in his hand.
“Go home.”
 
“You do not forbid me, human.” Kittikaen stretched out tentacles to grip the living
barrier in its way. “You feed me.”
 
The sword danced in Parley’s hand. Appendages fell to the floor around him as he
advanced to meet his enemy. He smiled under his lightning lit eyes. His blade stabbed
out, jamming through Kittikaen’s face with all of the police officer’s new strength
and speed.
 
Parley ignored the cry of pain. He switched the grip on his pistol. He used it like a
hammer to drive the sword in deeper.
 
The morass of ectoplasm and fleshly hatred baked away from the blade. Pieces of skin
peeled away as the sword ate its victim. It dropped back into Parley’s hand with a
final howl from its victim.
 
Parley exhaled a breath. He hadn’t thought that would work. The sword was meant
to kill anything it came across. He should have known it would do the same for
anything that was not meant to walk the Earth.
 
He looked around the room. He was alone except for the sleeping victim on the floor.
He would have to arrange medical treatment for the boy. He turned his radio back up
so he could call out.
 
He wondered if Gus had caught any of the chanters when they fled the building.
 
He looked at the chopped bodies near the door. He could check them for
identification later if he wanted it. He needed to save what he could and get an
ambulance. Punishment could be handed down whenever he spotted his enemy on the
street.
 
And he did plan to punish them. Allowing something from outside access to Earth
could have resulted in many deaths besides the one they had planned. They needed
to be taught a lesson about why that wasn’t a good idea.
 
Parley found the church’s walls blocked his radio. He walked upstairs and out the
front. He smiled when his radio started working again. He called for an ambulance
and backup to secure the building.
 
Parley slid the sword under his jacket. It twisted into a sidereal space next to reality
and faded. It would stay there until he needed it again, or he died.
 
Gus came around the corner. He had a man in handcuffs in his grip as he walked the
man back to the steps. The man looked at Parley and tried to get away. Greer threw
him to the ground, and sat on him.
 
“Settle down, or you’ll get a boot to the head.” Parley turned to go back in the church.
“We have a victim they were getting ready to carve up like a jack o’lantern. It was a
good thing we came along.”
 
“Keep him away from me,” said the chanter. “He carved up Roscoe and Floyd like
nothing I ever saw.”
 
“They deserved it.” Parley entered the church. He headed back to the slaughter room.
He picked the boy up and carried him out of the church. He placed the boy down at
the top of the steps.
 
Where was the ambulance?
 
The chanter tried to wriggle away from Gus. That showed a persistence that Parley
admired. That didn’t stop him from taking aim and kicking the man’s lights out.
 
“We got three dead, one prisoner, and one victim who may or may not be able to
press charges.” Parley put his hands in his pockets. “Not really a good haul.”
 
“Maybe the D.A. will get this one to talk so we can round up the rest.” Greer looked
down at his hands. “Serving warrants should be easy.”
 
“We have the warrant squad for that.” Parley grimaced. “I memorized their faces. If
I see them on the street, I’ll pick them up.”
 
“This is still going to be a mess.” Greer looked down at their captive. “How did you
kill three guys?”
 
“With speed and skill.” Parley smiled. “Here comes the ambulance. I’m going to ride
down to the hospital with our victim. I guess turn everything over to what detectives
show up to investigate.”
 
“At least I got that covered.” Greer shook his head. “This guy probably should go too
after the shot you gave him.”
 
“He deserved more than I gave him.” Parley waved at the ambulance attendants.
“Luckily for him, his value as an information source outweighs my wanting to kill
him.”
15100
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Cassie's Knife

1976-

Cassie Troy sat down on a stoop. Her face hurt. Tears dripped down her cheeks. Her

dark hair fell to her neck in straight lines. She had taken a hit from a fist that had

blotted out her vision long enough for the goons to take her friend, Hector. She

wasn’t quite sure what she should do.

 

“You okay?” A man in a rumpled raincoat sat down beside her. He produced a cigar

and lit it. He puffed on the foul smelling thing with a face of contentment. “Boyfriend

leave you?”

 

“These guys grabbed him.” Cassie looked at the stranger. “I didn’t have a chance

to do anything before they blindsided me.”

 

“Going to call the police?” The stranger puffed on his cigar as he looked at her.

One eyebrow seemed higher than the other to emphasize his harmlessness.

 

“They wouldn’t believe me.” Cassie wiped her face with the back of her hand. She

frowned at the stranger. She usually had feelings about people. The only thing she

got from this guy was he was only interested in her if she went along with his

program. But he didn’t actually care if she went along. She was a cog he was fitting

into his machine and nothing more. “You don’t really care, do you?”

 

“I have a responsibility to help people help themselves.” The stranger looked up

at the sky, holding his cigar. “It doesn’t seem like much, but I can’t do anything

until somebody decides they need the help.”

 

“I need the help.” Cassie got to her feet. “What can you do for me? Can you help

save Hector?”

 

“I can show you where they took him.” The stranger got to his feet. “After that, it’s

up to you what you want to do.”

 

“You’re kidding.” Cassie glared at this pain. “You can show me, but you can’t help

me with anything else.”

 

“I’m just a nobody.” The man stuck his cigar in his mouth. He hunched down in

his tan coat. “And nobodies don’t get involved if they don’t have to.”

 

“Is that how you justify things?” Cassie grabbed his arm. She reeled from the

impression of age and experience. Places and people flashed through her mind. She

sat down as her brain stopped working for a moment. “What are you?”

 

“I’m a nobody who thinks you can be a somebody.” He held out a hand. “You want

to help your friend, don’t you? I’m going to get you there. You’re going to have to

do the hard work after that.”

 

“Seriously?” Cassie pulled on his hand to get back to her feet. “You can’t do anything

beyond that?”

 

“It’s not my place, Cassie.” The stranger waved for her to follow him. “You guys

don’t need much help any way. You’re heroes when you need to be. It’s in your

blood.”

 

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” Cassie spotted a glint on the sidewalk as she

walked behind the man in the coat. She knew she could trust him up to a point, but

her talent moved in different directions whenever she looked at him. She examined

the glint, and realized it belonged to a knife that had fallen on the sidewalk. She

picked it up and tucked it in her belt.

 

The man in the coat led her down several alleys and across streets until he paused at

a church. The building seemed to be in a dead zone. No one had worshiped there in

a long time, and was likely not to with the dark aura it gave off. Even normals would

cross to the other side of the street to get away from that thing.

 

Cassie spotted the car that had grabbed her friend. It had been pulled off the street and

on to the sidewalk next to a side entrance. Whatever was going on was going to

happen in the back of the building.

 

She looked at the front door. It opened for her hand if she wanted to use it. She

decided that was the way to go. The man in the raincoat had vanished while her

attention was on the building. She shook her head. He wasn’t going to help her. It

wasn’t his job.

 

Cassie entered the church. The pews would never have another crowd to fill them as

far as she could see. She made her way to the back of the room. What she wanted was

down in the main body of the church. She had to hurry if she wanted to make a

difference.

 

Hector didn’t have a lot of time.

 

Cassie headed downstairs, listening to chanting in the air. She saw something

forming in the future. She didn’t like the looks of things. She closed her eyes.

She had to ignore the potential for disaster. She had to get in there and save Hector.

The future was telling her that it was reaching an end for her if she didn’t do

something in a hurry.

 

She slipped into the room. Hector had been chained down to a table. He pulled

against the chains, but his slim body didn’t have a chance against steel. They were

going to kill him to make their circle work to call their patron to Earth.

 

How did she stop them?

 

She could stop everything if she could kill the leader. If she could do that before he

killed Hector, she ruined his chances to call his patron. Then she had to worry about

getting away before the men in the room tried to take revenge.

 

Her talent flared as she searched for options. It showed her paths that she could

take to get what she wanted. She smiled. She could do this.

 

Who needed a nobody anyway?

 

Cassie walked around the room, knife in hand. She stepped inside the circle,

appearing out of a shadow almost silently. The cultists pointed at her, but didn’t stop

their chanting. The leader intoned the words of command to summon the dreaded

being that would grant them power over their fellow humans.

 

She intoned the words, reading the future to get the pronunciation. He looked at her,

eyes going wide. He pulled back the white sword in his hands to do the deed. The girl

flung her knife at the closest cultist with as much force as she could muster before he

could bring the sword down. The man went down with the knife in his chest. A cloud

started forming above the circle. The cultists chanted more to open the rip in the air.

 

Cassie chanted as she pulled the knife from the cultist’s chest. Her talent had guided

her throw. This was one man who was not going to get up and harm anybody else

for a monster’s favor.

 

The cloud opened as she went to the table. Hector was not going to be given to this

thing emerging out of the cloud. She saw the head cultist laughing. She saw him

dead sometime in the future. She smiled at him. He stopped his chanting at that.

 

“Cassie.” The stranger in the coat stepped into the room. “What are you doing?”

 

“You?” The voices from the thing in the cloud gave Cassie a headache. “You!”

 

“Me,” said the man in the coat.

 

“Me too.” Cassie stabbed the thing in one of its eyes, shattering it with the knife. She

struck again and again before black bodily fluids washed over her hand and knife.

She dropped to the floor with the pain. Her hand felt like it was on fire.

 

“Oh, Cassie.” The man in the coat walked forward. He dropped the stub of a cigar

that was in his hand. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“I’ll kill you, human scum.” The thing in the cloud extended tentacles to grab Cassie.

It would do things to this female to teach it to never interfere with its betters. It would

be the first human of millions to satisfy its thirst for revenge.

 

“I don’t think so.” The stranger extended a hand. He twisted his wrist. The cloud

snapped closed, slicing through the tentacles. The air in the room lightened instantly.

 

“You didn’t need me to do that.” Cassie examined her hand. It was withered and

missing part of its skin. She would never be able to use it for anything again.

 

“You called me.” The stranger looked around. The cultists fled from him, heading

for the doors. “That was a stupid thing to do, Cassie.”

 

“You think?” Cassie gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. The future of her

surroundings poured through her mind. She closed her eyes against the visions, but

that wasn’t working.

 

“Let me look at your hand.” He held his own hand out to take hers. “I can do that

much for you.”

 

She gave him her hand with a lot of pain. She didn’t open her eyes. She felt a chill

seep into her flesh. She sighed. The chill washed the pain away.

 

Cassie opened her eyes. Her hand looked bad, but not as bad as it had when the acid

blood had washed over it. She flexed her fingers. They looked more like talons now,

but they worked.

 

“It’s not perfect.” The stranger stood up. He handed her the knife she had used. The

blade glowed in the ambient light drifting through windows high up in the walls. “But

it’s better than what it should be.”

 

“They’ll try again.” Cassie clutched her hand to her stomach. She couldn’t find the

strength to stand on her own. She needed a second to catch her breath.

 

“Doesn’t matter.” The stranger waved his hand. The locks on the chains came loose

so the links fell to the floor. “That one guy is holding the sword of the King.

Eventually the two always get together. That’s his destiny. So sometime in the near

future, the King will arrive to take his sword back. That usually puts a stop to any

problem when that happens.”

 

“The King?” Cassie got to her feet. She felt better. Her hand ached but it was bearable

for the moment.

 

“You’ll know him when you see him.” The man in the raincoat handed her the knife.

“Let’s get your friend out of here. Someone else can worry about the man you killed.”

 

“That thing knew you.” Cassie stuck the knife in her belt. She hefted Hector over her

shoulder. He was heavier than he looked. “You want to talk about it?”

 

“No.” The man in the raincoat lit another cigar as he led the way from the scene.

16855

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

Light the Lamp

1986-

Mark Hadron examined the specifications on the prints in front of him. He thought
he had the right mapping on the circuitry. Once he had everything the way he wanted
it, he could build a lantern. It would run on local psychic energy if he was right.
 
It might be a clean power source if he could build a lantern big enough to act as a
battery for a city. It would run on people power which should be great inside a city.
If he could get the first step in motion, he could work out how to power lanterns in
the country.
 
All it would take is enough psychic energy to be turned into electricity.
 
“What you got there, boy?” Milton Kearn stepped into the shop, adjusting his battered
cowboy hat. He looked like he stepped out of some John Wayne movie, with his jeans
and shirt with vest worn over it. All he needed was a gun and a lasso to go along with
his long mustaches.
 
“You’re only three years older than me.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have an
exam to study for right now?”
 
“Already took it.” Kearn examined the schematics. “I don’t understand this thing
here.”
 
“I devised a way to trap mental energy.” Mark spread the papers out for him to look
at so he could point out the flaws. “I’m hoping to turn it into a clean source of
energy.”
 
“Never happen.” Milton shook his head. “You could maybe absorb psychic energy
as you call it, but it won’t turn into electricity. It’ll sit in this thing until it’s used up,
or released back in the environment.”
 
“So this new type of energy is possible, but using it for electricity is not?” Mark sat
back in his chair. “I haven’t built a prototype, much less tested things. How would
you know that?”
 
“I just know things when I see them.” Kearn stroked the end of his mustache. “You
could set one of these up and use it to clear the air, but not much more than that.”
 
“You don’t think I can do anything else with this?” Mark looked at his design. He
was sure he was on the edge of a great discovery. He didn’t believe his friend was
wrong. He hoped he was.
 
“You could probably kill ghosts with it, boy.” Kearn shrugged. “I don’t know how
much call there is for that.”
 
“You’re kidding me.” Mark rubbed his eyes. “What do you mean kill ghosts?”
 
“If Professor Jenkins is right, ghosts are made up of emotion that uses this pseudo
energy you are trying to harness as fuel.” Kearn pushed his hat back so he could
scratch his head. “If this thing works like you want it, it should stop that from
happening.”
 
“That’s great.” Mark stood, stretching his back. “Who would pay for something to do
that?”
 
“Anybody who didn’t like ghosts.” Kearn shook his head. “If you could prove they
had a ghost problem, and that you could get rid of it, you could write your own ticket
and get your dissertation done.”
 
“That’s a crazy way to do things.” Mark paused as he considered the rarity of ghosts
that needed to be murdered. “How would I even advertise something like that?”
 
“You have to get this built first.” Kearn waved at the prints. “Dyson can help with
some of this. He’s taking that metal working class.”
 
“So we go down and ask Dyson to help us with the basic shape.” Mark began
stacking the prints together. “Then we can start building the circuitry to get things
done.”
 
“I don’t see the problem with that.” Kearn smiled. “We can ask Harry for parts if we
need them.”
 
“He’s still working at that new electronics place, right?” Mark would give his
eyeteeth to work in a job where he could snatch parts as he went about his job.
 
“Yeah,” said Kearn. “We’ll have to pay him for the parts. We can’t ask him to give
up his job for some harebrained scheme.”
 
“I guess you’re right.” Mark gathered his drawings and his keys. “Let’s go down and
talk to Dyson. He’ll be able to give us some idea on how big we can make these
lanterns.”
 
“He can probably make a small one as a test.” Kearn straightened his hat. “Then we
can scale up into something we can use to get rid of any bad influence in the city.”
 
“No one will pay for that.” Mark waited at the door for his classmate. “It has to be
something we can paint as a threat.”
 
“Trust me.” Kearn waved for him to go ahead. “If we can make this crazy lamp work,
I know some people across campus who will write us some advertisements and help
us out.”
 
“You know people who will do that?” Mark blinked. He had gone from planning an
experiment to setting up a business to kill ghosts. He wasn’t sure how that had
happened.
 
“Some of the kids.” Kearn smiled. “They need some experience in copy writing and
basic layout. They might give us a good advertising if we hurry over and don’t act
like jerks.”
 
“That sounds good to me.” Mark put the advertisement idea to the back of his brain.
If he needed it, he would do research and then help it out.
 
He didn’t see any possibility of his idea being anything more than something to give
free lighting. Kearn talked folksy, but he knew a lot about exotic control systems and
how to use them. If Kearn said there was no way to convert the gathered psychic
energy to real electricity with what they had, he was inclined to believe his classmate.
 
If anyone could reconfigure the diagrams and circuitry into doing something more
than glowing in the dark, that person was Milton Kearn.
 
Mark followed his fellow student across campus to the Arts area. Students worked to
put on plays, figured out advertisements, ran the campus radio station. They entered
a shop area where the students put together props for their productions when they
couldn’t find them at yard sales and online.
 
They found Dyson Baker shaping a rod into something that looked like it had a snake
wrapped around a tree. He cooled it in some water, then inspected it with dark eyes.
He nodded as he set it on a rack nearby.
 
“It’s the Trouble Twins.” Dyson smiled at his visitors. “You guys going haunted
house probing? I made out big the last time.”
 
“How did you do that?” Mark remembered that Dyson had come along with two
cheerleaders from another school. “You didn’t.”
 
“Remember all that moaning.” Kearn shook his head. “Thanks for ruining the field
trip.”
 
“What.” Mark considered the pieces for a brief second. “You didn’t. Not at the
Lovejoy House. I warned you about the curse.”
 
“What curse?” Dyson smiled. “The only curse I got was stopped by Gatorade, if you
know what I mean.”
 
“The Lovejoy House Curse is a real thing, Dyson.” Mark shook his head. “People die
from it.”
 
“You’re kidding, right?” Dyson looked at the two of them with disbelief. “Anybody
who has sex there dies?”
 
“It takes a while.” Kearn pulled out a tin flask. He twisted off the lid and took a sip
of the contents. He sealed the can and put it back in his pocket. “You won’t drop dead
tomorrow, and we need your metal working skills.”
 
“For what?” Dyson crossed his arms. “First the scare tactic, then the favor. Is that
how things work?”
 
“Nope.” Kearn smiled. “Look at this. Show him the prints, boy.”
 
Mark picked a clean table and spread the sheets of paper out. He picked pieces of
metal to hold the corners down. He stepped back.
 
“We need this in a cylinder of metal with a cut out for a glass window.” Kearn
pointed to a diagram. “We’re going to put some wiring in to create the effect we
need.”
 
“It looks like a lamp.” Dyson scratched his chin. “Two by one by three should be all
right from what you got down here.”
 
“So you can do it?” Mark frowned. Things seemed better when it was just him
working on this idea. Now he had Kearn and Baker in on the act.
 
“Sure.” Dyson nodded. “I have pieces I can use for part of it right now.”
 
“We’re going to have to get the guts ready to go.” Kearn pointed at the circuitry
diagram. “We’re going to need a space of a couple of inches to slide things into place
between an inner and outer wall.”
 
“Should be a snap.” Dyson smiled. “I’ll set a shim in place to keep things separate
until you can plug everything in place.”
 
“How long do you think the casing will take?” Mark didn’t think it would be done
sooner than two days.
 
“Give me a day to get everything together, then a day to work on it.” Dyson gestured
at the snake stick. “I’ll have to do it after I get done with this caduceus.”
 
“We’re in no hurry.” Kearn waved him off to get back to his work. “We don’t even
know if this thing will work.”
 
“It’ll work.” Mark didn’t fight the annoyance in his voice. “Once we put it
somewhere to gather up the ambient energy, this thing will light up like a spotlight.”
 
“He’s right.” Kearn nodded. “It’ll do something.”
 
“I can get the shell together for you in a few days, maybe a week.” Dyson smiled.
“Then we’ll see how things go.”
 
“We’ll check in with you in a couple of days.” Kearn adjusted his hat. “Stay out of
trouble.”
 
“Don’t I always.” Dyson waved at them before reaching for safety goggles on his
forehead. He pulled them down over his eyes and picked up the snake sculpture. He
started heating it again so he could bang it into the shape he wanted.
 
“He’s as good as dead.” Mark kept his voice low. “The Lovejoy House Curse always
kills people who have sex in that house.”
 
“Hopefully it won’t kill him before we get our prototype.” Kearn took another sip
from his flask as they walked out of the building. “I’m not going to do it.”
 
“If the lamp works, it might stop the curse.” Mark held the door open so they could
step outside. “We might be able to sell that as a positive feature.”
 
“You’re saying that curses work through this ambient energy, and we can stop them
cold if the lamp sucks enough of it out of the air to prevent crap from happening.”
Kearn rubbed his chin as he thought about the implication. “It could promote self help
people trying to use the energy to skip exercise and a good diet.”
 
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Mark smiled. “But we could keep a lamp around
Dyson just in case it can do something. It might stop the curse.”
 
“That sounds reasonable for a just in case type thing.” Kearn nodded. “And it lets
us test the effects without letting Dyson know we’re using him as a guinea pig.”
 
“If we can kill a curse, we might have a business as debuggers.” Mark nodded. “We
can run anyone cursing people with harm out of business. We could stop the effects
as soon as we know they’re activated.”
 
“And it could be a business on its own if get it to launch.” Kearn nodded. “We’ll be
rich.”
18762
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...
The Four Musketeers

1992-

“This is the place?” Henry Harkness waved his hand at the Good Eats diner. He felt

a little doubt as he noted that the second o, the e, and the s were out so the sign read

Good At. The place sat between two skyscrapers, and it was a miracle the place

hadn’t been forced closed for a more expensive building.

 

“The food is good.” Pablo Estevez grinned. “Cassie and Hector feed us well.”

 

“It looks run down to me.” Henry scowled at the eatery. “Julio’s looks better than

this.”

 

“Julio’s looks better, but it isn’t.” Pablo pushed the door open with the flat of his

hand. “That’s why we meet here every month. I wouldn’t tell Cassie some place is

better than hers. She might cut you to pieces.”

 

“Who’s Cassie?” Henry paused inside the door to look around. There was a small

lunch crowd, but no one seemed to be looking at him.

 

“I am.” A woman in a red shirt and black skirt smiled at him. Gray laced her dark

hair. A leather glove covered one hand. “How’s it going, Pobs?”

 

“Still trying to make the world a better place.” Pablo flashed white teeth at her. “The

old men here yet?”

 

“They got the big booth in the back.” Cassie nodded at the rear of the room. “I see

you brought your kid.”

 

“Henry, this is Cassie.” Estevez gestured at the waitress. “Cassie, this is my trainee,

Henry Harkness.”

 

“Nice to meet you, kid.” Cassie waved at them to take a seat. “I’ll bring menus for

you two in a second.”

 

“She’s waiting on all of the tables herself?” Henry looked at the crowd. “What’s with

the glove?”

 

“Why don’t you ask her?” Pablo led the way across the room. “I’m sure the

explanation is as simple as a heavy burn.”

 

“I’ll pass.” Henry tried to step where the older man stepped, but he kept getting arms

and legs in the way. His respect for the waitress went up at the thought she had to

negotiate through her customers like he was doing her whole work day.

 

The big booth in the back already had two older men sitting there. Henry didn’t know

them, but guessed they were in the line of work he was training to enter.

 

“Dalton, and T. J., this is my intern, Henry.” Pablo waved Henry to a seat on the

round booth chair. “Henry, these are the guys you call if something happens to me.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Henry.” T. J. smiled. It was obvious some of his teeth had been

fixed at one point. His eyes hid behind shaded glasses so their color was distorted.

His hair only had a few strands of gray.

 

“Chances are something will happen to us first.” Dalton’s hair was all white and thin.

His face had been shaped by the two furrows on either side of his mouth. His nose

had been busted at least once by the look of it.

 

Both men wore business casual. Henry figured they had come in from somewhere

outside the city for the meeting. Both looked a little too tan to live in the Big Apple.

 

“You guys meet once a month?,” asked Henry. “Why?”

 

“We like to compare notes.” T. J. waved a hand. “Our operations don’t overlap so

much anymore now that I live out west, and Dalton has taken to traveling around. If

one of us sees something, he brings it to the meeting in case it’s more serious than it

looks.”

 

“A few of our guys like to operate around the world,” said Dalton. He sat so he could

look out the window. “We like to make sure we can see the signs first. The Mark

doesn’t break things like he used to back during the war.”

 

“You know that’s because of his trial.” T. J. shook his head. “Old history.”

 

“You guys know the Mark?” Henry leaned back with crossed arms. “I thought he was

a fake.”

 

“Nah.” Dalton shook his head while looking outside. “He retreated from the world for

a while. He’s got some girls taking over for him now, like T. J. took over for me, and

Pablo took over for T. J.”

 

“And hopefully like you’ll take over for me when you’re ready.” Pablo smiled. “This

is a dangerous business we’re in, Henry. One wrong move can get you killed.”

 

“I have to go.” Dalton shooed T. J. out of the way. “The bladder ain’t what it used to

be.”

 

He got to his feet creakily and headed for the rest room area at the front of the

restaurant. He vanished around the corner.

 

“Is he still looking for the Pyramid?” Pablo leaned over to whisper. He had his eye

on the front where Dalton had gone.

 

“Probably.” T. J. shrugged. “He’s been wanting to put the Murmur down for a long

time. That’s probably the only reason he hasn’t retired for good.”

 

“Who’s the Murmur?” Henry felt silly whispering when the person they were talking

about wasn’t in the same room with them.

 

“Undead murderer.” Pablo sat back. “He’s the whole reason Dalton took up our line

of work.”

 

“I don’t understand.” Henry frowned at his elders.

 

“Dalton used to be a pilot when he was younger.” T. J. sipped at his water. “He

crashed his plane and stumbled on the Murmur’s burial ground. He entered to get out

of the elements so he could get some time to figure out what to do. He woke the

Murmur up somehow. He’s been trying to put him back down ever since.”

 

“Guy’s tough?” Henry hoped he was tough if he couldn’t be beat for however long

Dalton had been chasing him.

 

“Hit him with a jet beam once.” Pablo gestured with an index finger to indicate thrust.

“He laughed it off.”

 

“You’re kidding.” Henry had seen a jet beam push a car over. He had a rough idea of

how much force could be used against a human body.

 

Pablo shook his head.

 

“Everybody, freeze!” Two masked men rushed into the room with pistols pointed at

the crowd. “We want your money. Everybody put everything in your pockets on the

table in front of you. Otherwise, we’ll have to make an example of you.”

 

Cassie pulled a knife holstered at the small of her back and stabbed the closest one

in the ribs. He went down in a spray of blood.

 

The other man swung to bring his hand up to point his pistol at Cassie. One squeeze

would pay this skirt back for what she had done to Richie. Then his hand caught fire.

He screamed and dropped his pistol.

 

“You picked the wrong day, sport.” Cassie picked up a metal napkin holder and hit

him in the face with it. He went down. She put a boot in to keep him there.

 

Dalton came into the room. He grabbed someone’s water glass and poured it on the

fire. A couple of others added tea and pepsi to the mix to put the fire out.

 

“Let’s take a look at the other one.” Dalton bent one knee slowly to inspect the stab

wound. “Sliced some muscle there, can’t tell if it hit anything major.”

 

“He’ll live if the ambulance gets here soon.” Cassie wiped her knife off and put it

back in its sheath.

 

Henry stood. The others had gone back to eating. He frowned at them. He didn’t feel

like eating after what had just happened.

 

“Too bad I left the first aid kit at base.” Pablo slid by Henry. He headed for where the

two robbers laid on the floor.

 

“I left mine too.” T. J. fell in beside Henry as the two advanced on the small circle

around the two robbers.

 

Dalton and Pablo used some things gathered from the kitchen to keep the blood

down. The man cried a little as they applied pressure to staunch the red flow.

 

“There’s a lot of blood here.” Henry looked at the people eating again. “Why isn’t

everyone getting up and leaving?”

 

“Because they still have to pay for their food.” Cassie shook her head at him. “Let me

get the wet floor sign.”

 

She walked off at a slow trot.

 

“Burning the other guy was a great disarmer.” T. J. checked the gun hand of the

spokesman for the robbers. “He might not use this hand again.”

 

“I was aiming for his head.” Dalton made a face. “It looks like I need glasses like

you.”

 

“You set fire to the guy’s hand?” Henry pushed his dark hair back from his face with

a hand. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just punch him?”

 

“At my age?” Dalton gave him a look. “I’m not trying to break my hand.”

 

“We can wrap it up in some ice in a second.” Pablo gritted his teeth. “If I had a staple

gun, we could seal this exterior cut long enough to get him to the hospital.”

 

“We can cauterize it.” Cassie shrugged at the look that earned her. “It’ll seal things

up.”

 

“We’ll handle it, Cassie.” T. J. waved her off. “Take care of your customers. Some

of them will want to not to pay the bill after this.”

 

“Sure, sure.” Cassie handed Dalton a folded piece of paper. “Good luck, old man.”

 

20313

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...
Girl on the Road

2015-

She stood on the side of the road in a brown and green dress that looked like it was

made of leaves. Her hair faintly glowed in the hairdo that lifted it into a bee hive

above her head. Her skin seemed to match the trees that she stood next to in its

brownness.

 

It was only luck that Denver McGinty had seen her when he rolled by. He put it down

to two lights reflecting near her. He rolled onto the shoulder of the road and put on

his hazards.

 

Denver didn’t always pick up hitchhikers but this girl seemed more lost than what he

usually saw in the middle of the night. Maybe she needed a hand.

 

He stepped out of his truck. He used it to haul parts for his car repair shop and didn’t

care how it looked. A wreck would be the best way to describe its dented sides,

crooked back bumper, and the tape over one of the tail lights.

 

“Do you need some help, ma’am?” Denver wondered how she had got out there

without a bag, or car. He put it down that she was a hitchhiker. He still expected some

kind of luggage unless she was local.

 

“Yes, please.” The girl strode forward. “I am far from where I wanted to be.”

 

“No problem.” Denver gestured for her to go around to the passenger side. “I can

drop you off in the city.”

 

“Thank you.” She climbed into the passenger side of the truck. “This is very good of

you.”

 

“I’m heading up to Niagara.” Denver shrugged before he climbed in behind the

wheel. “New York City is on the way. Are you going beyond there?”

 

“No.” She looked down at her hands. “I hope to find work there.”

 

“Good luck.” Denver smiled at her. He started the truck rolling down the road.

 

“You said you were going to Niagara?” The girl watched the side of the road as guard

rails and signs flew by.

 

“Every year, I go to see the Falls.” Denver looked embarrassed at the admission. “My

wife and I used to go together, but she died. I carry on with it for her memory.”

 

“I’m sorry.” The girl made a face.

 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Denver switched lanes as he looked for the right route

into the city that wouldn’t cost him that much time. “She had stomach cancer. She

insisted we go even though the doctors told her not to. She said it was the last thing

we could do together before she went.”

 

“I haven’t met anyone like that,” said the girl. “My mother tries to keep me away from

suitors.”

 

“No one good enough for her?” Denver raised an eyebrow. He had known quite a few

women who thought their kids were fragile glass.

 

“Yes.” The girl nodded. “She drives off anyone I might want to talk to about

anything.”

 

“Is that why you’re heading into the city without any belongings?” Denver thought

he might have crossed the line with that question, but she looked like she needed to

talk about what was bothering her.

 

Strangers were good for that kind of thing. They weren’t invested, and it didn’t matter

what they thought.

 

“I don’t have any belongings,” said the girl. The lights from the road caught her eyes

and made it look like they contained explosions of light inside their orbits before they

faded again. “My mother keeps everything. What’s mine is hers.”

 

“And what’s hers is hers.” Denver nodded. “Doesn’t make things easy.”

 

“It was just better if I left without saying anything to her.” The girl turned to look out

the window, or maybe at her own reflection. “She would have been furious at the talk.

She will definitely be furious when she realizes that I have left and don’t plan to come

back.”

 

“Starting out is going to be tricky in the big city.” Denver glanced her way. “I can

drop you off further upstate.”

 

“That’s kind of you, but the city is what I need.” The girl smiled at him. “It will let

me blend in while I am taking care of myself. It will make it harder for Mother to find

me and try to bring me home.”

 

“If you can’t blend in with five million people, you won’t be able to blend in

anywhere.” Denver smiled. “I wish you the best of luck with that.”

 

“I know.” The girl nodded. “I am hoping that eventually I will be able to move further

away from here. That will make it harder for anyone looking for me.”

 

“I get that.” Denver saw an exit he could use to head across the bridge from New

Jersey into the city. He could drive through and head north again when he was done

dropping his passenger off. “Any place in particular you want to be dropped?”

 

“You can drop me on the other side of the river.” The girl pointed at the other end of

the bridge. “I’ll have to make my own way from there.”

 

“It’s no problem.” Denver nodded. “Do you have any friends you can call for help?”

 

“Not really.” The girl shrugged. “Mother always chased off any that I might have

liked. She wanted to keep me strong of mind.”

 

“I see.” Denver did a small shake of his head. He had heard of overprotectiveness, but

not like this.

 

“Don’t worry.” She smiled at him. “I can take care of myself. It should be okay once

I have done some thinking, and figured what I can do to be successful.”

 

“Good luck.” Denver knew the city chewed up young people and spit them out. He

had seen more than few as he traveled across the state. He hoped she did better than

he expected.

 

They rolled across the bridge silently. It resembled a glowing ribbon leading to

a set of lit spools in the distance. Blackness stretched out to either side, with

occasional lights from boats plying the river.

 

Denver reached the end of the bridge, ignoring the signs for the Port Authority. His

passenger didn’t need to be dropped in the snake pit that marked the end of other

people’s journeys to the big city.

 

“Can you take me up to the park?” She pointed in the direction she wanted to go. “I

think I can start there tonight.”

 

“The park is dangerous at night.” Denver frowned at her. Central Park had gained a

bad reputation over the years. He didn’t want to give it another lamb to slaughter.

 

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Mother might have denied me basic comforts, but she did

show me how to protect myself. I feel like the park will give me a better view of what

I need to get started. A lot of my skills are in forms of gardening.”

 

“I suppose the city will need another gardener.” Denver knew the Mayor was big on

natural spaces. She would have to work to get through the application process if

she didn’t have some kind of extra education.

 

He doubted her mother wanted her to attend a college from what had been said

already.

 

“I have other skills.” She smiled at him. “It’s just I am best at gardening. If I can

get work in the park, that will make things easier. If I can’t, I will look for something

else to do.”

 

“I suppose you know what’s best for you.” Denver held back any comments. He

doubted he would see her again. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings by thinking that

she could do better closer to her home.

 

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re the first person who has said that to me. I know I

seem like a bumpkin, but I will be fine.”

 

He smiled back. At least she was confident in her ability and had tempered her

expectations some. Most didn’t have that when they tried to make a life in the city.

 

“There’s the entrance to the park.” Denver pulled up to the curb. “I’ll let you off

here, and head up to where I am going.”

 

“Thank you for your help.” She opened the door and slid out. “What’s your name?”

 

“It’s Denver McGinty.” He smiled at her. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled

out his wallet. “Let me give you something to get started. It won’t be much, but you

should be able to get something cheap to eat for a couple of days.”

 

He handed over a couple of twenties. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

 

“Thank you, Denver.” She put the money in her dress. “My name is Kisara, Princess

of the Genn. I will remember this.”

 

“Kisara Princess?” Denver raised an eyebrow at the weird name. “Be careful out

there, Kisara.”

 

“The same to you, Denver McGinty.” She closed the door and started for the entrance

to the park. The nearby lights made her hair gleam like a low fire as she walked away.

 

Denver watched her go. He hoped she took care of herself. She seemed like a nice

girl.

 

He pulled away from the curb and headed north in the maze of city streets. Once he

was clear of the city, he could head for Canada with no problem. The Falls sounded

in his imagination. It would be good to settle in his old place to hang out for the next

few days.

 

He hoped Kisara did well. He didn’t think the park would be the best place for her

to start. Too many human animals occupied it after dark.

 

At least she knew her own mind, and what she wanted to do. He didn’t think he had

that when he was her age. It had taken him years before he found a job he liked and

fitted what he thought of himself.

 

Luckily, he had Bonnie to help him over the rough spots then. She brought out the

best in him when he didn’t think they would make it. Her encouragement had kept

them afloat through the years.

 

Now she was gone, and he was headed up to their vacation spot alone.

 

He briefly wondered if it had been worth it. He decided that yes, everything had been

great as long as Bonnie walked along with him. He was being maudlin because he

was alone for the first time ever. He could do better than that.

 

He drifted through Manhattan with his mind on the past. He saw the signs for Sleepy

Hollow and smiled. At least he didn’t have to worry about headless horsemen.

 

He knew the world was a strange place, but he was sure that Washington Irving’s

tale of Ichabod Crane and his phantom pursuer was one of those things that had

been made up out of old cloth.

 

And he was sure his pick-up could outrun a ghost on the modern roads that cut

through the Hudson Valley.

 

The memory of his hitchhiker faded as he looked forward to reaching his annual spot.

She was in the past, and he had to look forward for the next few days.

 

He planned to keep an eye on the papers out of the city just in case.

 

22180

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...

Master and Servant

2010-

Al-a-Din sat in a chair at a table in front of a small café. He sipped tea from a small
cup as he watched the street. Despite his age, people still fascinated him, and he liked
trying to figure out what another person did by looking at them.
 
Despite losing his hair to time, he still looked much younger than his real age. His
skin was pulled across his flesh, and held none of the blemishes that usually came.
His hazel eyes still gleamed when they examined something of interest.
 
His butler stood at his elbow, wearing the uniform of his position. His black hair
covered pointed ears, and the hoop ring in one lobe. A bronze tan looked metallic in
the sun.
 
Al-a-Din put his cup down. He looked at a man in a coat heading into a market down
the street. He stood. He didn’t like the look of that.
 
“Hakim, be ready.” The old man straightened his jacket with both hands. “I think we
might have a problem.”
 
“Understood, Master.” The butler frowned as his master started forward.
 
Al-a-din walked toward the market. He didn’t like the way the man in the coat had
looked. He supposed his own dress was just as out of place. He wore the clothes of
his youth in what was known as Chixian Shenzshou. Then it had been called
something else. The centuries had changed the names several times as others had
moved in and taken control.
 
He had taken up residence in Arabia when he had gained the services of his butler.
Hakim provided him all he needed, and he used that to help others. It seemed a fair
trade to him.
 
Hakim didn’t comment on being stuck with an old man who constantly called on him
to do things, but he had implied that he preferred his master doing things to help
others instead of enriching himself.
 
The market shook as a cloud of smoke erupted from where the man in the coat went.
Al-a-Din paused. The man had bombed the market. He watched as people took cover
from following blasts.
 
“Hakim, help the wounded.” He waved at people fleeing the market. “Get them out
of the way. I’ll go in and see if I can help inside the zone. Join me when you are
done.”
 
“Yes, Master.” Hakim split off to start checking the obviously wounded. Things fixed
themselves as he spoke to each person in turn.
 
The old foreigner entered the cloud of smoke. Fire burned some of the products so
that he didn’t know what they were before the bombing. He worked his way through
the aisles, looking for wounded he could help.
 
He found the man in the coat in a small crater. He was still alive, despite losing both
legs. He must have not been wearing the bomb when it went off.
 
“Hello.” Al-a-Din looked for more of the devices before he approached. “It looks like
you will die soon. Do you want to talk about this before you pass?”
 
“There is nothing to say.” The man’s breathing was harsh and quick. Blood loss
would soon kill him. “I decided to do something about the people I hated.”
 
“That’s a strong statement from a weak man.” Al-a-Din looked around for any
survivors close by. It looked like everyone else had been killed, or made their way
outside. “Only the weak do something like this.”
 
“What would you know of my struggle?” The man glared at his interrogator. “You
are another that needs to be removed from this Earth. The faith demands it.”
 
“We both know different.” Al-a-Din frowned. The man might bleed out before he was
taken away to be questioned by the authorities. He found two belts and tied off the
stumps at the end of the bomber’s legs.
 
“That should hold you until someone wants to know who you work for, and where he
is,” said the old Asian. “You won’t die, and you won’t have your picture in the
paper.”
 
“You can’t deny me Heaven!” The bomber tried to reach out to grab his rescuer. “I
need to be a martyr to reach it.”
 
“You were never going to be a martyr.” Al-a-Din shook his head. “Someone has to
kill you to make you a martyr. Killing others while killing yourself just makes you a 
suicide. And suicides don’t get into Heaven.”
 
“You’re a liar.” The bomber started crying. “What do you know about the Koran?”
 
“Nothing.” The Asian waved his butler over when he saw the man approaching
through the smoke. “Hakim, please push this smoke out of here, and make sure the
fire is out. Then make sure this man lives to go to trial.”
 
“Should I repair his legs?” The butler raised an eyebrow at the area where the man
had been cut off at the knees.
 
“No,” said Al-a-Din. “He doesn’t deserve to be helped any more than the bare
minimum to get him in the hands of the law. After that, what point would it be to give
his legs back to him?”
 
“Understood, Master.” Hakim raised his hands. He performed a set of motions and
the stumps scabbed over with new flesh covering the jutting of bone that had been in
place. “He will live.”
 
“Thank you, Hakim.” Al-a-Din nodded at the work. “He’ll be able to stump on those
if he practices enough.”
 
“I’ll kill you for this.” The bomber struggled, but produced a hand gun after a
moment. “I will kill you.”
 
Al-a-Din stomped down on his arm. The pistol popped out of the hand holding it. The
Asian kicked the bomber in the face. That stopped the invective foaming from the
man’s mouth. Another kick stopped the man from trying to stand up under his own
power.
 
“A true believer.” Al-a-Din shook his head. “At least he’s stopped for the moment.”
 
“The victims have been healed as far as I can with my abilities, Master.” Hakim
nodded toward the grounds outside of the open air pavilion. “I could not save some.
They had been killed by the blast because they were standing too close when the
bomb went off.”
 
“Do they need transport to the hospitals?” Al-a-Din knew his servant could be literal
minded to some extent. It was also a way to double check himself when he did
something.
 
“Some.” Hakim shrugged. “The human responders seem to be taking care of that.”
 
“Repair what you can of the area.” Al-a-Din waved at the damaged poles and covers
against the Sun. “Then we should turn our prisoner over to the local police.”
 
“It is a small matter.” Hakim made a hand gesture. The place looked like nothing had
happened to kill some people there moments before.
 
Only the dead remained where they had fallen when the bomb had gone off. Hakim
could do nothing for them. Once someone died, there was no way for him to intercede
for the victim to bring him, or her, back, or ask for forgiveness for them.
 
“What do you want done with the dead?,” asked Hakim. He gestured at the scattered
limbs that had been sent flying from the pressure wave.
 
“Leave them.” Al-a-Din clapped his hands together. “We can’t do anything for them.
All we can do is make sure their killer is punished in some way.”
 
The ancient bent down and lifted the wounded man from the floor. He plopped the
killer in a rebuilt chair. He searched for more weapons to make sure the man made it
to prison.
 
He did not want the man to pull another gun and use that to secure his freedom so he
could crawl away and try again.
 
“How much longer do you think it will take the rescue workers, Hakim?,” asked
the ancient. “I think that even the people you healed will want a second opinion.”
 
“I have no idea.” Hakim straightened his cuffs. “I will see what I can do to hurry
things along.”
 
“Thank you, Hakim.” Al-a-Din smiled narrowly. “I will wait for your return.”
 
The butler vanished from the room. A small chime sounded with his passing.
 
“Who are you?” The bomber glared at the old man. “What kind of devil are you to
try to minimize my accomplishment?”
 
“They used to tell stories about me,” said Al-a-Din. “Surely you already know who
I am. I have walked the Earth a long time.”
 
“You can’t be that man.” The bomber placed both hands on the table top. “I refuse
to believe it.”
 
“Does that matter?” The Asian smiled. “I have walked most of the planet by now.
When I tell you that killing because you wish to hurt the innocent is wrong, it is the
truth. There will be no Heaven for you, much less much of an after life.”
 
“I will have my glory.” The bomber tried to stand, but fell instead as two legs without
feet hit the floor. “I will reach my promised place as a warrior of my people.”
 
“They are here, Master.” Hakim appeared out of the air. “The police are coming this
way.”
 
“Please show this man the after life he has earned before we go, Hakim.” Al-a-Din
stood. “He deserves to know a little of what awaits him if he continues.”
 
The butler frowned. He pulled a book of metal and wood from inside his coat. He
opened it by twisting the lock mechanism on the front. He read down the list until he
reached a name that was highlighted. He rubbed that name with a finger.
 
A cloud of smoke appeared. The center vanished so that a world of smoke and fire
was revealed. Screams and the sounds of ripping and tearing drifted from the hole
in the air.
 
A roar from some giant throat called for more fire to be poured on those who were
not suffering enough.
 
“I think that’s enough, Hakim.” Al-a-Din nodded at his servant. “Do you understand
what I am saying to you? Even if you throw your life away some other day, unless
you change, you will suffer like no other. Now is the time to ask for forgiveness and
do what you can to make things right.”
 
“I don’t believe you.” The bomber held himself up right by the seat of his chair while
sitting on the floor. “That’s just a trick.”
 
“If you think so,” said Al-a-Din. “I assure you that you will experience more pain
than you ever thought of after your life is over.”
 
Al-a-Din waved the police over with one hand as they flowed into the rebuilt market.
They surrounded the old man and his butler. Some pointed rifles at the pair.
 
“This man bombed the marketplace.” He waved at the bomber. “We could do nothing
for the ones he killed outright. If I had been quicker, he never would have been able
to do as much as he has done.”
 
“Why should we believe you?” The lead policeman didn’t stop pointing his rifle at
the strange pair.
 
“Because we were down the street when this happened, and we helped most of the
people outside on the street.” Al-a-Din shook his head. “And we are unarmed, and
prepared to make a statement about what we saw.”
 
“Don’t be an idiot, Abdul.” A second policeman shook his head. “That’s the Old
Man. Thank you for your assistance. You and your servant may leave.”
 
Al-a-Din bowed. He walked ahead of Hakim, heading back to buy another cup of tea.
24094
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Splinter Cell

2015-

Mark Hadron and Jane Hillsmierer frowned at the big screen set up in the lab part of
the building. They had plugged in the various sensors that Hadron and his friends had
designed to measure the ambient energy in the air. They frowned because that
energy was higher than what it should have been according to readings done the
year before when the Lamplighters were in business.
 
“What do you think is causing this?” Jane waved at the loci represented on the screen.
 
“I don’t know.” Hadron rubbed his temples with both hands. “Only the gate for the
Mark’s tower looks steady. Every other point is going up. It might be another event
on the way.”
 
“Another Destroyer?” Jane had been with the team then. They had forced a monstrous
being back across a dimensional border to its home address. It had taken everything
they had to deal with the monster.
 
“It looks like.” Hadron turned from the screen. “Something is trying to reach us
from outside. No wonder Nobody issued a warning.”
 
“How do we stop it?,” asked Jane. “What happens if it actually reaches the city?”
 
“It starts changing reality and eating the citizens of New York.” Hadron shrugged.
“I’m glad that’s not my problem.”
 
“It will be your problem if we can’t nip this in the bud, mister.” Jane wanted him
to face her, but he refused to look at her with his one surviving eye.
 
The doorbell rang. Milton had installed the closest thing he could find to ‘Shave And
a Haircut’ to be obnoxious. The five notes had quickly gotten less funny as the years
rolled on.
 
“I wonder who that is.” Hadron made no move to check who was at the front door.
 
“Are you going to answer it?” Jane put her hands on her hips.
 
“We’re closed,” said Hadron as the doorbell rang again. “Fine. I’ll see what these
people want.”
 
Hadron walked down the central steps to the ground floor. The bottom floor was for
the Lamp Mobile, and its maintenance, and the office space the business required.
The car had been lost when he lost his eye. The office was covered in dust from
disuse.
 
He opened the door for people beside the garage door. He looked out at four women.
He took a moment to absorb their features and dress. Then he said, “Go away.”
He slammed the door in their faces and turned to walk away.
 
One of the women pressed the doorbell again before he could take a step back
to the central staircase.
 
He opened the door and looked out on the women. One of them smiled at him,
waving her hand. The other hand was close to the door bell.
 
“We’re closed.” Hadron glared at the woman and her hand with his single eye. “Do
not press that door bell again. Go away.”
 
“We really do need your help, Dr. Hadron.” The woman dropped her hand. “I’m
Patty, that’s Kathy, Jean, and Lin. We have a major ghost problem in San Fran and
our first thought was to talk to you, but the phone is dead, and we couldn’t find
anywhere you used an email, or Facebook, or Twitter. So we came here in person to
ask you to help us.”
 
“The answer is no.” Hadron started to slam the door again, but the woman had pushed
against it to keep it open. “Do you mind?”
 
“We need that help, Dr. Hadron.” Patty pulled out her phone. “I feel that when you
see the footage, you will understand why we came all this way. We just want five
minutes of your time, and maybe some technical guidance on how to stop the thing.
We want to go into business as Lamplighters, and this could be the first chance we
get to do that.”
 
Hadron couldn’t close the door with her standing in the way. He wondered if he
should punch her in the mouth so she would back up.
 
“Being a Lamplighter killed my friends and cost me an eye.” Hadron bunched his
hand into a fist so he could punch her. “Are you sure you’re willing to lose the
same?”
 
“Something has to be done.” Patty looked at her friends. They nodded at her to
continue. “You’re the only one with experience who can help us.”
 
“Let’s see your footage.” Hadron opened his hand and held it out to her. He knew he
was letting himself in for trouble. He couldn’t help the impulse.
 
She pushed the button for the phone to play the video before she handed it over. The
screen was full of screaming people, and a laughing ghost dressed like a pirate. He
waved his sword to direct ghost sharks into the crowd.
 
“I wondered where he went after our last blow-up.” Hadron dialed the video back
and froze it. “When did this happen?”
 
“Two weeks ago.” Patty looked at her friends for support. “We have been trying
to get in touch with you ever since. Finally we drove out here. Took turns, drove
through the night to get here.”
 
“This is the ghost you want to take on for your first case?,” asked Hadron. “Are
you sure about that?”
 
“We wouldn’t have come all this way if we weren’t.” A Hispanic lady with short
parrot colored hair and a tattoo of a star on her face spoke. “How tough can this be?”
 
Hadron smiled at her. The group stepped back. The smile didn’t suit the scarred face
or the trace of gray in his hair.
 
“Come in.” Hadron stepped out of their way. “Wait right here.”
 
He left them inside the empty space for the car. He whistled as he jogged up the
stairs, pulling himself along with one hand on the rail.
 
“Hey, Jane! These idiots want to take on Crenshaw!” drifted from the upper floor.
“Where did I leave the old Fireflash? Do you remember?”
 
“I ain’t no idiot.” The Hispanic Jean glared at the staircase.
 
“Who’s Crenshaw?,” asked Lin. She was slighter and shorter than her three friends,
dark hair in a bun, worried expression on her face. “What are we getting into here,
Patty?”
 
“I have no idea, but I am sure it’s not really that dangerous.” Patty shrugged. “These
are ghosts. We should be able to stop this one with the right equipment.”
 
“This guy didn’t seem like he thought it was harmless.” Kathy waved her hand at the
staircase. “He acted like he was going to enjoy sending us into the lion’s den.”
 
Kathy was the tallest, and had been on several fitness magazine covers. The chance
to change jobs for something more interesting was sharing space with not wanting to
rush into danger. Not rushing into danger was winning by her expression.
 
Hadron returned with several boxes of equipment. He put the boxes down on the
floor. He was still smiling.
 
“Ordinarily I would never send a bunch of rank amateurs against someone like
Bloody Bill Crenshaw, Demon Pirate.” Hadron grinned at them now. “In your cases,
I will make an exception. This way none of you will bother me again.”
 
“This is a common sensor.” Hadron opened one of the boxes. A device with a handle
and a spot for a laser pointer rested inside. He took the sensor out of the box. “Point
and press the button. A reading will show up. Crenshaw is in the eight range.
Anything over that is not Crenshaw.”
 
He pressed the button on the handle. A blue flame shone from the other end. He
showed them the reading. They were all twos and threes like he thought.
 
He put the sensor back in the box. He opened the next one and pulled out a lamp. He
lit the fuse inside. Blue flame glowed inside the cylinder.
 
“This is the power box that operates all the weapons that I have loaded for you.”
Hadron tilted the lantern so they could see the plug on the bottom. “You hang it from
a support belt and let it do the rest.”
 
“What happens if the fire goes out?,” Kathy asked.
 
“Depends.” Hadron blew the flame out and put the lamp back in its carrying case.
“If I were you, I would be more worried about what happens if the flame is
overpowered.”
 
“What happens if the flame is overpowered?,” asked Lin.
 
Hadron made a poof noise and spread his hands to mimic an explosion.
 
“Now this is the Fireflash.” Hadron opened two of the boxes. He pulled out the parts
and fitted them together. “Just point and shoot.”
 
The Fireflash was as long as Patty was tall. She looked at it with a wince.
 
“Do you have something smaller than this?” She waved at the huge rifle. “Do we
need a bazooka to take on this Crenshaw?”
 
“Have you ever taken on a ghost that can summon a swarm of sharks that can chew
you to pieces in a matter of seconds?” Hadron held the weapon out for her to take.
“What do you think is going to happen when he gets mad that you’re in his way?”
 
He made a chomping noise with his mouth.
 
“Now I’m going to help you load this up, and send you on your way.” Hadron
gestured for the Fireflash. “Good luck with Crenshaw. Don’t let him take you
prisoner. He likes the ladies.”
 
“Likes the ladies?,” Lin asked.
 
“A lot.” Hadron took the Fireflash. He took it apart and stowed the pieces in their
boxes.
 
“He’s a ghost.” Jean frowned at Hadron. “What do you mean he likes the ladies
a lot?”
 
“He’s a pirate, and he likes booty,” Hadron straightened. “Make the connection. You
can do it.”
 
“Mark, can we talk?” Jane descended down the stairs. “Over here.”
 
“Sure, Janie.” Hadron put on a smile. “These ladies stopped by to borrow equipment
to take on Bloody Bill Crenshaw, Demon Ghost Pirate. Ladies, this is Jane
Hillsmeirer. If you want someone to inform your families what happened and pay for
your funerals, talk to Jane before you leave.”
 
“Mark, are you serious?” Janie glanced at their visitors over his shoulder. “Crenshaw
will eat them alive. You can’t send them out after him. You have to look into this.”
 
“My dance card is booked, Janie.” Hadron didn’t keep his voice down. “Crenshaw
is a perfect starter case for some new Lamplighters. They’ll be fine.”
 
“I’m putting my foot down, Mark Hadron.” Jane glared at him. “You know what
Crenshaw does to women. We’re not sending a bunch of women after him.”
 
Hadron made a face.
 
“You’re wrecking my ploy of scaring them away and leaving things to professionals.”
He kept his voice down. “I don’t want them facing Crenshaw either. I also don’t want
to be around them.”
 
“You need a back-up team.” Jane rubbed her forehead. “This could be it.”
 
“I don’t need a team since we’re closed for business.” Mark reverted to his loud
voice. “And these ladies live far away, thank goodness.”
 
“I want you to go with them.” Jane held up a hand. “You need to get back into the
groove. I’ll look around for locals to build another team. We’ll get things started back
up again.”
 
“Recruits will have to be given tests.” Mark did not clench his hand into a fist.
“Otherwise, they won’t be able to use the equipment.”
 
“You were going to send them out without the tests.” Jane waved her hand at the
visitors. “What is that?”
 
“They have twos and threes on the scale.” Hadron looked at the floor. “The Fireflash
will work like a charm for them.”
 
“You ran a sensor scan on them to make sure you could send them to their deaths?”
Jane squinted at him with her displeasure. “Seriously?”
 
“When you say it like that, it sounds bad,” said Hadron.
 
“I expect better out of you, mister.” Jane shook her head. “I love you like a brother,
but sometimes, I just want to punch you in the face.”
 
“And what do you think we should do with these problem children?,” said Hadron.
 
“We give them a chance.” Jane shook her head. “A fair chance.”
 
“Ladies, pull your car into the bay here.” Jane waved a hand. “We’ll get things sorted
out for you.”
 
“I don’t know if we want to be all that much trouble.” Patty wrapped her hands
together to keep from wringing them. “Maybe we should go. That way it won’t be
much of a bother.”
 
“Pull the car in.” Jane’s voice was iron. “We’ll negotiate the rest over takeout.”
Link to comment
Share on other sites

M-37

1995-

Shirou Morita frowned at the globe in the cradle in front of him. Liquid stirred at the

bottom of the sphere, but the covering only revealed the contents as a sound. How

could he examine the contents without touching anything?

 

The sphere, dull and gray, had been recovered from the scene of the living building

attack three years ago. The Robot Rangers and three new heroines had been on

the scene. They had stopped the rampage from reaching the central precincts of

the city. A lot of people had been hurt and killed, but more had been saved. During

the cleaning up of the damage, one of the defense force soldiers had found the globe

and boxed it up for study. That was why three years later Shirou thought a laser

could be used to poke a hole in the cover so he could look inside.

 

Once he knew what was inside, he could start testing it.

 

Shirou fitted the cradle underneath the emitter. He dialed the power down. He wanted

a small hole, not a through and through wound. The liquid had to remain inside the

shell so he could avoid contamination of the lab.

 

Of course if he messed up, he was as good as dead. The thing had been one of the

motivating power sources for a giant humanoid building. If it activated like it had

previously, the first person it would seize for power would be him.

 

He didn’t want to be a battery for something that might take over his place of work

and kill all of his coworkers.

 

Only the coworkers he didn’t like should be killed.

 

Shirou pulled on his goggles. He looked one more time around the lab. He was locked

in and unless the orb activated, the doors should be enough to keep things in if things

went wrong. He checked the laser one more time, then the cradle. One shot was all

he had. He flipped the switch.

 

The laser cut on with its characteristic whine. The beam burned through the gray shell

slowly. He cut the power as soon as he was through the shell.

 

He paused before taking the next step. He had to take a look inside the hole to make

sure he hadn’t cooked the contents. Then he could move the cradle to a safe room

to study everything and take samples.

 

He hoped that he had something to study. Dr. Yamada had given the thing to

him. If he failed, he would be out of a job, and someone else would be trying

to figure out what the thing was.

 

Any position in his field would be out of the question if he lost his job at the Institute.

 

No one would hire someone who couldn’t do basic tests without causing problems

and getting fired.

 

Shirou pulled the cradle from under the emitter. He didn’t want the thing to drill a

hole in his head while he was moving to the next step. He looked inside the hole to

make sure the contents were unharmed.

 

The goo inside the shell struck for him as he leaned over the orb. He screamed as

it covered his face and the collar of his protective suit. He staggered away.

 

He was definitely going to get fired now.

 

Shirou tried to calm down. His face was covered with the active ingredient of

the orb. He was still alive. All he had to do was get it off somehow.

 

It would help if his exposed skin wasn’t telling him his face was being flayed from

his skull.

 

At least none of the stuff had gotten inside of him. That would be worse than the

problem he had at the moment.

 

Shirou staggered to the wall. He pressed the button to sound the alarm. He also

pressed the switch that shut the room down. The stuff couldn’t get loose no matter

what it did to him first.

 

He made his way to a field cleaning unit built in the wall. If he could use that to get

the stuff off his face, he might have a chance to live.

 

A rumble turned his head to look at the laser. It was the only thing in the room that

might be dangerous to him, and the contaminant. Then it came apart into component

parts.

 

“Oh, no.” Shirou ran to the cleaning unit. He had to get the stuff off of him. He

was about to be turned into a living weapon to escape the labs and the building.

 

Pain ran up his spine. He fell to the floor. He tried to reach the lever for the cleaner.

If he could pull that, he might have a chance. He didn’t want to kill anybody. His

spine cracked and he curled up in a fetal position.

 

Dr. Yamada would cleanse the room and examine his remains to find out what had

gone wrong. The stuff may, or may not, be killed by the radiation. Either way, he was

a weapon that would be destroyed, or killed before he became a danger to the others.

 

Changes worked their way through his body. Everything was pain. He didn’t bother

screaming because his vocal cords had given out. Then radiation flooded the room.

 

Shirou laid where he had fallen. The radiation wasn’t killing him. It was allowing the

yolk to build more skills in his body so he could be taken for a rampage through the

city.

 

How did he stop it? He had to get up. He had to do something. How did he save the

city, possibly the country?

 

Shirou’s hand closed on the egg. He looked at it. It meant nothing to him. It certainly

wasn’t going to help him.

 

The egg expanded wrapping around him and his new machine parts. He tried to

fight it off, but it formed a cocoon that bound his limbs together. It dropped to

the floor, ten times as big as when he had punched the hole in it.

 

“Can you hear me, Shirou?,” said Dr. Yamada. The radio must till be working for

Shirou to hear his voice. “Can you talk?”

 

“Stay away!” Shirou couldn’t make himself shout loud enough. “Stay out of here!”

 

If they came into the room, they were as good as dead. He had to do something. What

could he do?

 

He had to stand. He had to take control of things. If he didn’t try, someone would

do something stupid.

 

And the last thing he needed was someone doing something stupid.

 

Shirou decided he had to stand. He had to get out of the egg. Then he could worry

about the other alterations to his body.

 

He already knew he was as good as dead. He might as well try to get some good out

of this.

 

He struck at the egg as best he could with his hands. His limited mobility made it hard

for him to do anything more than push hard. The shell rolled slightly as he struggled. 

He braced himself as much as he could and kicked. The egg rolled some more, but it

didn’t crack.

 

He kicked again. The shell wrapped around his leg. He tried to pull back. The

wrapping went with him. He paused in uncertainty.

 

What did this mean? He realized the pain had settled down to a dull roar. He couldn’t

decide if that was good, or not. The shell collapsed around the rest of his body.

He felt compression as the thing shrank over his holed protective suit.

 

Images filled his mind as a hose entered his ear. He turned his head and pulled on

the wet strand with his teeth. Was this how the people in the apartment building felt

as they were stabbed and used up?

 

Other hoses tried to fill his ears. He yanked his head away from them as much as

possible. He couldn’t let them seize control of his brain. He had to fight the thing off.

 

“Shirou.” Dr. Yamada sounded close. He sounded too close.

 

“Keep away, Dr. Yamada!” Shirou felt the tubes going in his ears. “Don’t let

me out of this room! Don’t let me live!”

 

“I want you to calm down.” Dr. Yamada sounded in his ear. “The changes you have

been experiencing have been going on for hours. We just now found a way to

communicate with you. Do you understand?”

 

“It’s not safe.” Shirou tried to slip his hands out of the sleeves to pull the tubes out

of his head. “This thing is trying to implant itself in my head.”

 

“I want you to remain as still as you can.” Dr. Yamada sounded way too calm.

Shouldn’t he be losing his nerves right now. He could be the next victim if things

go wrong. “We’re going to try to get you out of that thing.”

 

“What are you going to do?” Shirou hoped the procedure saved the city. He knew he

had taken a fatal dose of radiation.

 

“We’re going to use the gravity gun we recovered from Dr. Pluto’s attack sub.” Dr.

Yamada whispered something. “Close your eyes and count to ten.”

 

Shirou started counting. He had thought the gravity gun was off-line. How had they

gotten it to work? He wished he could see through the shell over his head.

 

When he reached five, he heard a buzzing. The shell over his head vaporized. He

took a deep breath of air. He was alive. How was that possible?

 

He looked around. A robot had been pushed into the room. A computer screen with

Dr. Yamada’s face on it had been installed in its chest. The gravity gun had been

installed on a turret so the robot served as its firing platform.

 

Tentacles from inside the egg grabbed the robot. They took the thing apart and began

inserting combinations into Shirou. He screamed once, but the pain wasn’t the same

as the initial pain when he first started his transformation.

 

“The thing is turning me into a monster.” Shirou hoped Dr. Yamada could still hear

him. “Kill me before it figures out how to get to the general population.”

 

“I think we have a cure.” Dr. Yamada spoke from the radio speaker. “I’m coming in.”

 

“Stop.” Shirou couldn’t lift his head. At least nothing was trying to get into his ears.

“This is way too dangerous, Dr. Yamada.”

 

The door cycled open. Dr. Yamada stepped into the room. He wore a protective suit

like Shirou’s own. He held a vial in one gloved hand.

 

The tentacles reached for Yamada to meld him with his employee. The doctor opened

the vial and threw it on Shirou. Smoke roiled from where it struck. Cracks ran down

the front of the shell. Then it broke open.

 

“Don’t move.” Yamada held up a hand. “You have been altered in a way that

could still be dangerous to others. I want you to stay here while we think of

some way to help you.”

 

“I don’t know if I can.” Shirou realized he was floating in the air. “What’s going on

with me?”

 

“You are still giving off radiation.” Yamada held up both hands. “We don’t know

what else is going on.”

 

“Why aren’t I dead?” Shirou raised his hands. Light flicked through his flesh from

where gloves used to be. “What have I become?”

 

“I don’t know.” Yamada shook his head. “We’re going to have to do some tests to see

if we can reverse what happened. You might be isolated for a time until we can think

of a cure for the radiation.”

 

28141

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Testing for M-37

1996-

“Good morning, Shirou.” Dr. Yamada walked into the secured room. He wore a

protective suit and helmet. His subject still leaked radiation in the air a year after his

unwanted transformation. The Institute was still trying to find a way to stop that so

he could be safe to be around.

 

No one wanted to work with a source of cancer and poisoning.

 

“You said you had some things to tell me.” Shirou Mirota hovered off the floor,

sitting on the air. Shields covered his eyes, while the protective suit he had worn

when he penetrated the sample sphere from the Ninety Two Rampage had become his

second skin.

 

“We think we have a way to block your radiation leak so you can go outside for

limited times.” Yamada sat down on the floor. Chairs and other furniture were

absent from the room.

 

Shirou didn’t need them, and didn’t want them since his body slowly cooked them

away.

 

No one wanted a reminder they weren’t human anymore.

 

“Seriously?” Shirou grinned. “How do you plan to do that?”

 

“We believe that we have devised a coating that we can use as a cover on you.”

Yamada placed his hands together. “We don’t know how effective it would

be, but felt it would allow you to leave this room and not kill everything around you.”

 

“When do you want to test this coating?” Shirou already saw several flaws in the

plan. He decided to file them while the experiment went ahead.

 

He was ready to leave his unwanted home to do anything but stare at the same four

walls day after day.

 

Even reading, or watching televison, or trying to find things on the Internet, was

governed by a screen set up behind a protective shield so he didn’t fry the circuits

trying to use it. Waldos enabled him to manipulate what he was looking at without

allowing him to leave the heavy shielding of his room.

 

It would be nice to see the world with his own eyes again.

 

“We are making the first batch downstairs.” Dr. Yamada nodded at his expression.

“It might need some fine-tuning and testing in controlled areas, but we are confident

that we can make you safe around other people.”

 

“What about the rest of this?” Shirou indicated his body with a wave of his hand.

“Can you reverse any of this?”

 

“We don’t know.” Yamada wanted to have a more comforting assessment of his

employee’s welfare. All of the experts he had consulted had no clue on how to

reverse the alchemy performed on Morita. “Dr. Haas’s workings are indecipherable.

Dr. Craft and others are searching for him, but he has kept his head down after

what he did here.”

 

Dr. Craft led the Robot Rangers. Shirou had met him and his mechanical minions

when they had arrived to save the city. He made it seem like he and Haas were old

enemies.

 

How long had they been feuding before the apartment building man had come to life?

 

“The thing made me into a monster.” Shirou glowed slightly. “If you hadn’t arrived

with that gravity gun, I would be a mindless thing attacking everyone around me.”

 

“You aren’t.” Yamada frowned. “The focus has to be on making you better with

what we have. We know that the holy water damaged the shell and the liquid

that was transforming you, but it doesn’t do anything to you the way you are now.

We know that you can fly, are strong, and release radiation. Some of the scientists

that are helping with this coat think you can learn how to turn the radiation into

some kind of controlled beam.”

 

“They think I can fry something on demand?” Shirou raised eyebrows. “Like some

kind of laser beam shooting out of my eyes.”

 

“They think so.” Yamada nodded. “The question is one of control. There might

be a process inside of you that allows that. I might have destroyed the control when

I used the gravity gun.”

 

“So what do they expect me to do?,” asked Shirou.

 

“I don’t know.” Dr. Yamada shook his head. “I don’t want you to do anything until

we apply the coating and see if the base does anything. Then if you want to

experiment, we’ll have some kind of dampener in place.”

 

“Do you think this will work?” Shirou didn’t. He didn’t know what the source of

his radiation was, but he doubted any coating would stop it.

 

“I don’t know.” Yamada stood. “I do know that you are in a prison and could have

mental problems unless we do something. So I am going to try to do something for

you. If it helps others in the same circumstances, that is just a bonus as far as I am

concerned.”

 

“I understand.” Shirou nodded. Dr. Yamada and his people worked on strange

mysteries. They had found some answers. Those answers had been used to stop other

problems from other sources. This was one of those things that could be used for a

lot of things that people would never know about unless it failed in some way.

 

If cutting his effect down worked, they could use it other places to mitigate radiation

problems.

 

The door buzzed. Yamada went over and looked through the glass into the airlock

outside the door. He nodded.

 

“I’m going to open the door and let the others in,” said Dr. Yamada. “Then we are

going to apply the coating and see what the base does on contact with you.”

 

“Go ahead.” Shirou waved a hand. “I want to see what this does.”

 

Yamada opened the door. Two technicians entered the room. One wheeled a tank

with a hose on a dolly. The other had a cart of sensory equipment. They both wore

full suits to prevent a lethal dose of poisoning from their subject.

 

“Recording the base setting.” The technician at the controls flipped some switches,

looked at the numbers and the graphs rolling out on strings of paper. “This is way too

high.”

 

“Applying the coating.” The other technician pointed the hose on the tank at Shirou.

He turned the knob all the way open, then pulled the trigger-handle to let the paint

out.

 

Shirou barely felt the impact. He turned under the spray. He sank to the floor as the

coating stuck to him, a few streaks dropping to the metal surface. He felt cooler.

 

“I feel better.” Shirou lifted his arms as more of the paint fell on him. “I feel almost

normal.”

 

“The temperature and rads are dropping.” The sensory equipment showed flatter

lines on its output.

 

“Pour it all on?” The first technician checked the gauge on the tank as he kept the

stream of liquid flowing.

 

“Yes.” Yamada nodded inside his helmet. “We want him completely covered so we

can see if this is working as planned.”

 

Shirou closed his eyes. The coat seemed to be cooling him off as it cut the radiation

from the room. He might be able to go outside again. That would be better than

looking at pictures on a screen.

 

He knew he would never touch anything with his real hands again. The altered suit

and this paint put that to an end.

 

How damaged was he now? He had heard the reports and seen graphs. He had never

considered the fact that two of his senses worked as far as he knew. He didn’t know

about taste and smell. Would they still work as usual? Was sight and hearing all he

had left?

 

At least he might still be able to fly as long as he took it slow and easy. Dropping

radiation on the citizens of Japan while he imitated birds would be frowned upon

by the government.

 

He knew from some of the scuttlebutt he heard that the Ministry wanted to test him

to see how well he held up to their examinations. He was sure that anything major

would cause an event.

 

And he didn’t want anyone probing his guts on the chance they might find out how

to make more like him.

 

Who wanted to lose their humanity to be living weapons? How much were they

willing to give up for their transformations?

 

He knew it was something he wouldn’t want people he hated to have to go through.

 

“We might have done it, Doctor.” The second man raised a fist. “Everything is

reading what it would be for a normal irradiated room.”

 

“Tank’s empty.” The other man turned the knob to cut off the flow. “Is it holding?”

 

“So far, so good.” The second man nodded. He held up the printing line as it rolled

through his hand to the floor.

 

Dr. Yamada frowned as he walked over and examined the readings. Everything

looked good for the moment. What happened if the paint failed?

 

“We need to run tests to make sure the paint will keep working.” Yamada nodded.

“We need to know what happens if Shirou exerts himself.”

 

“Shirou, see if you can fly with the coating on.” The technician pulled the tank back

to the inner door of the airlock. “That’s the simplest test we can give him right now.”

 

Shirou willed himself into the air. He floated gently as he always did.

 

“The count is up some, but it’s still lower than without the coating.” The second

technician laughed. “This is great.”

 

“No,” said Dr. Yamada. “It’s peeling with the trivial exertion he is doing. Land

Shirou. Let’s see if that will stop the coating’s degradation.”

 

Shirou landed. He checked his hands. Small scales showed through the paint job. He

sighed. At least he didn’t have his hopes up for a solution.

 

“May I?,” asked Yamada. He held out a hand.

 

Shirou extended a hand. The doctor took it and looked over both sides. He nodded.

“We need a little more work on the formula, but this is better than I expected.”

 

“I don’t understand.” Shirou took the hand back and looked it over. “This looks like

a failure to me.”

 

“No.” Yamada shook his head. “Your body heated up at the extremities when we

asked you to fly and cooked the coating at those places. The torso coating is still

there, and blocking a portion of the radiation. We just need to get the formula to resist

the effects of your powers in your limbs. Once we do that, we can work on actual tests

so you can get out of here without killing anyone.”

 

“I am all for that plan.” Shirou nodded.

 

29904

Link to comment
Share on other sites

M-37's First Flight

1997-

Shirou Mirota pointed an index finger at a cardboard target. The target blew up. He
worked his way down a line of targets that flipped up when he approached. He paused
when he thought he had blown up the last one.
 
He felt a little more normal despite his increase in ability. The coating the Institute
had developed seemed to be working as intended. A few minutes of blowing things
up on the target range and he hadn’t sprung a leak yet.
 
And the sensors hadn’t sounded the alarm. That meant he was safe at his current
expenditure of power. His new biology made it difficult to judge, but he felt like he
had jogged a mile.
 
He wondered how long he could keep shooting beams of fire before he actually
exceeded a limit. At least inside the Institute, he would know when he was a danger
to others.
 
If he sprung a leak, an alarm would go off. Then sprayers would drop a chemical
radiation absorber on him. Then all he had to do was wait for a mobile room to take
him back to his quarters.
 
He might be able to get some sleep if this kept up. It might be nice to dream again.
His new condition had eliminated the desire and need to sleep, food ingestion, and 
most normal bodily functions. The lab people suspected that was because of the metal
and energy conduits buried in his body.
 
It was hard to be hungry when your heart was a nuclear battery guaranteed to run for
another two hundred years.
 
He briefly wondered what he could do when his battery eventually ran out of power.
 
Another target popped up in his face. His hand came up. The target blew apart under
the heat wave he generated.
 
Shirou paused. Then he looked around. Hopefully, no one had noticed the blast.
 
He needed to work on that. He didn’t want to throw around enough power to cut
through the range. That might hit someone in some other part of the building.
 
He didn’t want to kill someone on top of everything else he was trying to fix.
 
A siren went off. He looked around. What was going on? What should he do? Did
something need to be blasted?
 
“Emergency teams report to launch pads.” Misa sounded panicked over the PA
system. “We have had a major earthquake. Emergency teams report to launch pads.”
 
Shirou frowned. At one time, he would have been grabbing gear and running to the
pads. The Institute responded to major disasters all over the country, and he would
have been in the middle of the action.
 
Now he was stuck in the building, hoping that his makeover wouldn’t cause him to
blow up if he was stressed enough.
 
He walked to the exit. Maybe he could use this as cover so he could get out in the
field again. It might be good to get his hands dirty again after spending so much time
trapped in his room.
 
All he had to do was get out of the building and fly to the disaster area. He decided
it was a lot easier to think of doing it, then it would be in doing since Security would
want him to stay put.
 
He thought he could punch through them if he wanted. The problem was he didn’t
want to do anything like that. They would be in the right. His power was largely
untested, and one wrong move could have him spilling radiation on anyone and
anything close to him.
 
Maybe he could join the crews heading for the helicopters. He would have to be fast
and blend in until they reached the scene.
 
Shirou decided to take the stairs to the hangar level. He flew up the six levels and
paused by the door. He put in his code to open the door to get on the floor. The large
doors were sliding open to let the aircraft hover up and then head toward the
emergency.
 
He noted several people were pointing at him. He had to do something if he wanted
to get free. He looked up at the exit. Then he was gone from the hangar in a blast of
wind.
 
Shirou smiled. Dr. Yamada would not like his violating the safety guidelines. He
would deal with that when he had to. Now he needed to find out where the disaster
was and see what he could do to help out.
 
He should have taken the time to find out those facts before taking to the air.
 
He flew toward the city. The Institute’s grounds were outside the city, but within
sight. He knew there was a news feed running on some of the signs in the shopping
areas. He just had to find one, and see where this earthquake was. Then he could fly
down to see if he could lend a hand.
 
Shirou found the Sony large screen right where it had sat before his self-exile. He 
landed on the sidewalk in front of it and watched as news unfurled in front of him.
Three minutes in, the broadcaster talked about the heavy destruction in Kochi. It was
miles to the southwest of Tokyo, the Institute’s base city.
 
How fast could he fly?
 
That was a question he had never really asked himself. How fast could this new form
go in the sky? He looked to the southwest. The Institute and the DF would be on the
way to the area. Could he beat them?
 
Did he want to?
 
Shirou smiled. Yes, he did want to beat them to the scene.
 
He headed into the sky. He willed himself to go faster. He passed the Institute, and
kept going. Helicopters were in the sky ahead of him. He went around them instead
of tearing through their formation. He didn’t want them to crash just because he had
slipped his leash.
 
He reached Kochi a few seconds later. He hovered over the scene, trying to figure out
where he could start. Several buildings had collapsed around what looked like a
fissure.
 
He decided the best thing he could do was try to move some of the debris away from
the town. People might have been trapped in the collapses. The faster he could dig
them out, the less other rescuers had to do.
 
He landed quietly beside a mound of rubble. He wished he had super senses to go
with the rest of the powers the liquid had given him. Too bad a x-ray machine had not
been in the room when he had been forcibly transformed.
 
He decided that out of the options he had, blasting everything was out. He didn’t want
to cause a collapse on someone waiting for rescue, or blow them up. That left his
strength and physically moving things with his hands, or the gravity control he used
for flight. Gravity seemed the safest to use until an expert showed up to give him a
more efficient way of doing things.
 
Shirou concentrated. Rubble floated upward. He worked his way around the closest
pile until he had a majority orbiting a central gravity. He found some people at the
bottom of the pit. He smiled when one of them took in a breath.
 
He moved his wrecked building to a cleared spot and gently put it down. He pulled 
the wounded from the excavation with his power before setting them down out of the
way. He headed for the next pile of rock to start excavating there.
 
People were on the scene, trying to help him. He waved for them to move back. He
didn’t want to lose control over the gravity and hurt them or anyone buried under the
ground.
 
One wrong move could bury someone under a unknown weight with no way of
digging them back up.
 
He didn’t need that on his conscience to go with whatever risks he was undertaking
just being there.
 
The helicopters arrived as he worked his way through another pile. Dr. Yamada
jumped from his vehicle before it could settle on its skids. He held a Gieger counter
in his hand. It barely registered anything in the air.
 
“What are you doing?” Yamada placed the counter on the ground.
 
“I am digging up anyone buried that I can.” Shirou moved his turning ring over to
another area and let go. Hopefully, his powers were making a difference.
 
“How big an effect can you do with your powers?” Yamada glanced at the counter.
Everything was normal according to it.
 
“I don’t know.” Shirou looked around.
 
How much could he move at one time? He had never thought how much he could
move at one time. Maybe he could move everything at once.
 
“Workers are coming in to help us.” Yamada noted the helicopters. “Can you move
all of this rubble to a safe spot as you’ve been doing with the smaller piles?”
 
“I don’t know.” Shirou held up his hands. “I think you might want to clear the area
while I try.”
 
Shirou closed his eyes and concentrated. He had never tried to expand his powers
over such a large scale before. He might break himself in the attempt. Dr. Yamada
was right. He had to work better than what he had been doing. He felt energy running
through his body as he tried to clear his head.
 
He could do this. He could move everything. He was a star. Everything shaped itself
to his bidding. He smiled at the energy activating from his battery heart. He opened
his eyes.
 
Why was everything so small? He raised a hand and compared it to a nearby building.
He was a giant. He closed his hand. He was a giant, and he still had a job to do. He
just had to be more careful than what he had planned to be.
 
Could he move everything? Yes, he could.
 
31,561
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Crenshaw

1670-

Bloody Bill Crenshaw smiled as he noted sails on the horizon. The rumors had been
true. A treasure ship headed for Spain was on the sea.
 
He didn’t know if that was the same ship as the one he wanted, but it was sailing in
the right direction.
 
And his ship was fast enough to catch any other ship on the open water. He knew it.
His crew knew it. Now that he had a boat sighted, all he had to do was lay out sail and
run it down.
 
“Ready the cannons, Henry.” Crenshaw took a sighting with his telescope. “I want
to be ready to shoot the sails as soon as we close. Then we should ready a broadside,
for our second shot once we have what we want.”
 
Henry shouted orders for the crew as he advanced down the deck from his captain.
Boarding actions would be bloody. The men had to be ready with flintlocks and
swords to do away with their victims.
 
The captain believed in no survivors. Anyone captured would be thrown overboard
to any shark that followed the blood trail across the Atlantic. They would sail to a
friendly port and offload the cargo for as much as they could get for it.
 
Henry had seen a number of actions under Captain Bloody Bill Crenshaw. He had
no doubt this one would run exactly as all the others. The captain’s reputation had
spread far and wide. Once they ran the colors, the Spanish would probably give up
and beg for mercy.
 
Crenshaw wouldn’t give them any except a blade to the neck, or a swim with the fish.
He tended to keep the women longer, but eventually they also were killed.
 
Henry watched as the men performed their tasks. They also knew what would happen
if they didn’t perform as well as the captain wanted. A blade in the guts was the least
horrible thing he might do.
 
“We’re ready to shoot with three of the cannons, Mr. Henry,” said Boynton, the
cannon master. “They’re loaded with grape. The other six are ready to shoot through
the keel on the Captain’s order.”
 
“Right, Bob.” Henry nodded. “I have to make sure the boarding crew is ready. As
soon as we get close enough, tear the sails down.”
 
“We’ll be ready.” Boynton nodded. “You have my word on that.”
 
Henry nodded before gathering a gang of sailors that weren’t needed doing anything
else as the Cloud Shark closed on its intended victim. They were already measuring
out lengths of rope and securing grapnels. Two men were loading flintlocks and
handing them out. They were single shot, but a volley might be enough to overwhelm
a defense long enough for blades to be used.
 
The rest depended on luck and skills.
 
Once they were on the other ship, they would either secure it, or lose. They had no
choice. The captain would be behind them, ready to shoot anyone who tried to retreat
from a bigger force.
 
Bloody Bill had earned his nom de guerre handily. And his reputation was such that
he could inspire men to walk to their own execution rather than face him in a duel.
 
Henry readied his boarders at the rails. Once they were side by side, the hooks had
to be thrown to secure both ships together. Then they would jump the rails to board.
 
“Run the colors,” shouted the Captain. He stood in the bow, telescope to his eye.
 
The Cloud Shark’s black flag ran up the mast. A white shark smiled on it with jagged
teeth.
 
Anyone who saw that flag knew they weren’t long for this world. The banner was as
famous as the Captain. Crenshaw spread stories when he was in port to build its
reputation.
 
Scaring people so they made mistakes was better than letting them think they could
fight back. Henry had been a part of a few boarding actions that had not gone the way
they should have. Losing an ear had caused him to be more cautious than the average
outlaw they had onboard.
 
“Ready the cannons!,” ordered the Captain. His shout was relayed to Boynton down
in the hold. “Ready the lines!”
 
Henry stood at the rail. This should be an easy raid. He held a flintlock in his hand.
He liked to shoot the enemy captain before the man could rally his sailors to repulse
the boarders.
 
The Cloud Shark closed on the ship. Henry waited patiently for the two ships to get
close enough so he could get started with his part of the job. The Maria Santos
glowed on the stern. A man stood in the stern watching the approaching pirates.
 
Henry didn’t like the way he seemed to be smiling at them as they closed together.
What did the man think was going to happen when they got close enough to board?
He would be the first man fed to the sharks.
 
The Spaniard pulled a length of rope from his belt. He had a hook tied to one end. He
started spinning the hook as he watched the pirates close. Then he flung the hook
directly at the bow of the Shark. It hooked to the rail with that one throw.
 
Henry ran toward the bow. They had planned to board the other boat, but it looked
like their prey planned to board them first. One shot should fix that problem.
 
The other man swung from his boat toward the Shark. He pulled himself up the line
as he flew through the air. He landed against the hull with both feet planted. Then he
punched through the hull with his fist.
 
Henry paused. Wood fell into the ocean as the Spaniard plunged into the hold of the
ship. Then he heard screaming from below. This was wrong. What should he do?
 
“What was that?” Crenshaw headed for the ladder to the hold. He held a brace of
pistols in his hands as he ran across the deck. He couldn’t allow his reputation to be
ruined by one man.
 
A man screamed below decks. The sound made Henry pause as he tried to join his
captain. Crenshaw hurried down the ladder after tucking one of the pistols away.
He would deal with this boarder who didn’t know his place.
 
Henry ran to the top of the ladder. He tucked his pistol away in his sash, and slid
down the ladder. He waited for his vision to adjust to the dark before he did anything
else. Boynton slammed into the deck beside him and lay there.
 
The Spaniard appeared with a white sword in his hand. It glowed like lightning. He
blocked Crenshaw’s blade while punching another man in the face. The sailor went
down without a working jaw.
 
Henry pulled his flintlock. He needed to get rid of this man so they could get back to
raiding their victim. They would have to move the crew to the other boat with the
hole in the bow.
 
It was a miracle they hadn’t started taking on water yet. That wouldn’t last long if
they ran into rough seas.
 
Henry pulled the trigger on the flintlock. An explosion of smoke sent the ball at his
enemy. The man stepped out of the way, slicing the captain across the chest as he
moved. Crenshaw fell back from the slash, blood running down his shirt.
 
“I have been looking for the famous Captain Crenshaw for some time.” The Spaniard
advanced across the deck, sword glowing in his hand. “You have murdered many,
and I can’t allow that to continue.”
 
Henry pulled his sword and tried to slash this enemy. The captain could defend
himself. What would happen to the first mate if he didn’t try to do something?
 
“You are in my way.” The Spaniard blocked the cut, directing the blade away from
his body. His other hand came up as he spun. Henry went down from the slap. “El
Rey doesn’t have time for you today.”
 
Crenshaw tried to stab his enemy in the back. That was the proper way of dealing
with enemies. The Spaniard, El Rey, spun to let the point of the blade pass by. He
kicked the pirate in the chest.
 
Bloody Bill landed close to the hole in the bow. He looked out for a moment at the
sea lapping at the edge of the hole. He scrabbled for his sword. He couldn’t lose now.
 
“I have been looking for you for a long time, Capitan Crenshaw.” El Rey kicked the
ladder from the upper deck. Some of the crew fell to the deck. He kicked them out
of the way so he could keep advancing.
 
“I don’t understand.” Crenshaw grasped his sword and levered himself to his feet.
“I don’t know you. What’s this about?”
 
“I have been commissioned to kill pirates.” El Rey flicked the white blade he carried.
A scar on his forehead was a lightning bolt in reflected light. “You have been raiding
for a time. Once I put a stop to you, I can move on to others.”
 
“You think I will be beaten that easily?” Crenshaw drew his pistol and fired in one
swift motion. He heard the ball ricochet, but hadn’t been able to follow its flight with
his eyes.
 
“I don’t see why not.” El Rey advanced. “I’ve killed so many. One more won’t matter
to me now.”
 
Crenshaw and El Rey exchanged blows with their swords slicing the air as they
moved. The pirate tried to get away from the hole in the bow of his ship. He didn’t
want to be pushed into the water. Fins were cruising the surface as he watched.
 
Crenshaw charged forward, hoping to bull through his opponent. A fist stopped that.
Then he felt the bones in his face twist slightly. Pain shot from the boot print on his
face. 
 
“Adios, Capitan.” El Rey grabbed the pirate and slung him through the hole into
the water beyond.
 
The sharks outside went into a frenzy as Crenshaw fell into their midst. His blood
from his wound attracted them to him. Then they began to bite and tear.
 
El Rey pulled his sword down the deck as he walked to the rear of the hold. He had
to get back above to the main deck before he went into the water with the pirates.
Crenshaw’s disappearance would be a mystery to the rest of the world. Only he and
his crew would know why the attacks had ceased.
 
He climbed the ladder as the hull separated behind him. He leaped on the top deck
and looked around. What remained of the crew looked at him in anger. His ship
floated next to the soon to be scuttled pirate ship with riflemen on deck and cannon
ready to fire.
 
El Rey smiled at the pirates as he walked to the rail. He leaped over the gap to his
own deck. He waved the man at the wheel to steer away from the Cloud Shark. His
job was done, or soon would be thanks to the sharks in the water.
 
He watched as the Cloud Shark slowly coasted under. The men went to dinghies and
dropped them into the water. They unshipped oars and began rowing away from
the sinking craft, and the Spanish ship.
 
Maybe they could make it to a shore and live. It was a chance. Certain death was what
waited for them if they stayed with the Shark. Fins followed the little boats as they
made their way from the scene.
 
“Should we sink them, sir?” Juan Hernandez, the first mate of the Maria Santos,
looked at the escaping boats.
 
“No. I want to see how many return to being pirates after this.” The King smiled.
 
33,527
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Duel in the Desert

2010-

Moshe Levram wondered how he had let his sister talk him into going out to the

desert. Just because something was happening didn’t mean they had to look at it. And

he didn’t want to explain to his father how he had let his sister go alone to get into

trouble.

 

He was her protector. Their father would look at it as a failure on his part if he let

anything happen to her. He didn’t like it, but he was the elder child.

 

And his speciality made him more capable of protecting her. Everything he grasped

was geared to wards and shields. Offensive spells seemed out of his reach at the

moment.

 

“Will you come on?” Sara Levram waved her hand at her brother. “I finally have a

source we can track.”

 

“I think we should call Father, and let him deal with this.” Moshe brushed dust off of

his white shirt. “We don’t have enough magick to stop a major threat.”

 

“Don’t be mild.” Sara shook her head. Her dark curls drifted down from the band she

used to tie them back. “Someone has to look. We might as well do that. If it’s too

dangerous, one call to Father is easily done.”

 

“I think you overestimate our abilities.” Moshe knew he would have to carry her

home now. That would be almost impossible. “Go ahead.”

 

Sara led the way, using the desert to carry them toward their goal. It was like skating,

but sand and dirt were the ice. It was the first piece of magick she had mastered

completely. And it was her favorite.

 

The siblings drifted to a spot in the desert surrounded by pillars of rock. Moshe raised

a shield instinctively against the flow of energy roiling from the sight. He put it in

front of his sister to keep her back. The last thing they needed was to rush in and set

off spells designed to kill them.

 

He didn’t want to explain to his father how he had let his sister be turned into a

burning cloud of ash because he was careless.

 

A man dressed in a hooded tunic shaped something in his hands. He smiled as he

worked his hands. The object seemed to be that of a weird looking dog.

 

“How cute.” Sara didn’t keep her voice down. “It’s a golem.”

 

The magician stood in the circle, putting the last touches on his creation, as he looked

for the source of the voice. The energy around the pillars faded as he wrote the last

charm on his dog’s back.

 

Moshe felt a piece of magick hit his shield. He knew it was a sensory spell. He hadn’t

made his shield as a cloak. The other magician saw him and his sister, and knew they

were gifted thanks to his spell.

 

“We have to get out of here.” Moshe grabbed his sister and started pulling as he

backed up. “This guy doesn’t want witnesses.”

 

Energy gathered in the site as Moshe half-carried Sara from the rocks. He didn’t

know what was going to be unleashed, and he didn’t want to find out. He expanded

his shield and thickened the parts facing behind him as he ran.

 

He didn’t know what the other man specialized in, but he assumed charms. That

meant he needed physical things to work magick. That might be something they could

use against him if they had to turn and fight.

 

He didn’t plan to turn and fight unless he was trapped in some dead end with no way

out.

 

“We should stay and fight.” Sara punched her brother’s shoulder. “We can take this

guy. He only has one golem.”

 

Something exploded against Moshe’s shield. They flew through the air. Smoke trailed

behind them until they hit the ground.

 

“What was that?” Sara brushed off some of the ash on her brown blouse.

 

“That was your golem.” Moshe got to his feet. He looked at the pillars. Glowing dogs

rushed forward with mouths open and ears back.

 

“We’re dead.” Moshe flung up walls at a distance from them. Some of the dogs hit

the shields and blew up. The spells shattered under the force. Most went around,

threading the spaces between the walls. Nothing was going to stop them from

eliminating the snoopers in a fiery glow.

 

“Not yet.” Sara raised her hands. She called on her magick to bring the desert alive.

It was temporary, but the word written on the ground produced columns of fists that

punched their enemies into exploding oblivion.

 

“More of them are coming.” Moshe flung up a wall in front of the pillars. Maybe that

would keep them from coming long enough for him and Sara to get out of there.

 

His wall blew apart almost instantly. More of the dogs drifted from the pillars. They

growled in unison once they saw the siblings. They started running across the desert.

 

“As long as he’s in there, he can create as many of those things as he wants.” Sara

flung a word at the pillars. The piece of magic ripped apart before it could do

anything. “And it shields him from us.”

 

“I figured that.” Moshe formed a rotating circle of walls to keep the dogs from

rushing them. “Fighting retreat. This is out of our league.”

 

“You’re right.” Sara looked at a piece of high ground in the distance. “Get ready to

move.”

 

“Do what you’re going to do.” Moshe formed a bubble around them as his wall went

down one section at a time as the dogs gave up their lives to kill them.

 

Sara grabbed his arm and pulled. They slid across the desert toward the rock in the

distance. Let the beasts climb up after them if they could.

 

The hill pulled them up to the top in front of the exploding dogs. The beasts paused

as they tried to think of a way to get up at the siblings. They finally decided to circle

the base of the rock like sharks.

 

“They can explode all they want down there.” Sara smiled. “I wonder what the charm

maker will do now.”

 

“Don’t tempt fate.” Moshe looked around. “We need another spot to run to when this

one is broken.”

 

“There’s another rock over there.” Sara nodded at the outcrop in the desert. “We can

bust through their lines and retreat to there.”

 

“More trouble.” Moshe pointed to a man crossing the desert. “I told you we should

have left this to Father. Now we have two magicians to deal with.”

 

“Maybe he’s not friends with our charm maker.” Sara squinted at the man walking

toward them. “He’s strong. I can see his energy wrapping around him.”

 

The dogs ran from the hill. They headed right for the man in black. He paused to

assess the attack. Then he caught the lead dog and manipulated it with his hands. He

held a staff made from the spellwork. He drove it into the ground. The dogs exploded

against the shield made from their pointer. The shield just grew stronger the more

dogs it touched.

 

“Did you see that?,” Sara smiled. “He’s not with the charm maker.”

 

“He’s not with us either.” Moshe relaxed despite himself. Maybe an adult could settle

this better than he could.

 

The man in the black walked to the base of their rock. He wore a long buttoned coat,

trousers, wingtips, and gloves. The collar of his coat concealed the lower part of his

face. Sunglasses covered the rest. A hat topped the assemblage.

 

Moshe didn’t like the fact he couldn’t see ears from where he sat on the rock. That

couldn’t be a good sign.

 

“Hello, children.” The man in black gazed at the pillars. Moshe didn’t like that he

couldn’t see the back of the man’s head. “What’s going on here?”

 

“This guy was making a charm and I guess he didn’t like us seeing him do that.” Sara

pointed at the pillars. “I’m Sara, and this is Moshe. That was a great piece of magic

you did. I don’t think I have seen anything like it.”

 

“Just some word work.” The man in black started toward the pillars. “Stay out of the

way. This next part could be a little tricky.”

 

“The thing only makes exploding dogs from what we’ve seen.” Moshe hoped this

newcomer knew what he was doing. At least he was making himself a target so the

charm maker wouldn’t chase the Levrams.

 

“I saw.” The man in black strolled along. “I’m sure he has other tricks up his sleeve.”

 

“What’s your name?” Sara scrambled to get off the rock to follow him.

 

“Memphis.” The man in black held his hat on as he walked toward the eldritch

display that was almost lighting up the real world. “I always liked that city.”

 

“America, or Egypt?,” Moshe whispered to his sister.

 

“Maybe both.” Sara smiled at him. “This is a good guy. I can feel it.”

 

“He feels like a ghost to me.” Moshe frowned at her. “He could be just as much a

danger as the other man.”

 

“He isn’t.” Sara hit the ground. “Come on. We need to see this. This might be our first

real duel.”

 

“We could be running for help.” Moshe exhaled with the knowledge he was talking

to himself. He dropped down on a spongy bubble and ran after his sister. The last

thing they needed was to watch real magicians duel in the desert.

 

Moshe caught Sara as Memphis pushed into the aura around the pillars. He took her

arm and pulled her back behind a shield. The last thing he needed was for her to get

caught in a backlash from the elder magicians battling.

 

“Can we talk?” Memphis gestured with a hand. “I see you’ve tapped into the Spring

here. What do you plan to do with your creations?”

 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” The charm maker had a cat in his hands.

The statue of the dog hung from his belt. “I have been waiting for years to use this

spot to empower myself. It will be years before it’s active again. No suit of clothes

is going to get in my way when I finally have the resources to change the world

to something I want.”

 

“That’s an interesting expression of intent.” Memphis seemed to be smiling but it was

hard to tell since he didn’t have an exposed face. “How are you going to do that

against the other magicians and organizations that like the world the way it is.”

 

“I will wipe them out.” The charm maker glared at his enemy. “I will take control of

the Spring and there will be nothing they can do about it.”

 

“Okay.” Memphis snickered. “You couldn’t stop two kids. You don’t have a chance

against real magicians.”

 

“Shut up.” The charm maker held up his cat. A tiger erupted from the sand. “This

is what will happen to the other magicians that get in my way.”

 

Memphis punched the tiger in the face. His gloved hand came out the other side. The

tiger collapsed to the ground.

 

“I was killing simulacrum before you were born.” Memphis shook his gloved hand.

“I think you should give up your magic.”

 

“Never.” The charm maker touched his dog. Replicas surrounded him as guards.

“Punch these.”

 

Memphis kicked the ground. A wave of dirt rolled over the dogs. They blew up

under the cascade before they could charge away from their master. The charm maker

went down with his lower legs blasted apart. He tried not to scream.

 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Memphis didn’t sound all that concerned by the damage he had

wrecked on his opponent. “Imagine how bad things would be for you if I weren’t here

to help you.”

 

Gloved hands took the cat and dog and reshaped them into a mask. He fitted the mask

to his face, shaping it over his head. He nodded when he was done.

 

“Now, let’s see what happens when we try to put your legs back together.” Memphis

fitted the stumps back together. “You might experience some pain.”

 

The flesh knitted together in the rags of brown pants. The charm maker screamed as

everything came together in a series of clicks, rips, and a sewing machine clank.

 

“That was awesome.” Sara ran into the circle of pillars. “What word did you use to

do that?”

 

Moshe frowned. They were standing at dagger range with a magician better than they

were. If he decided to take them out too, no shield was going to stop him for longer

than a few seconds.

 

“I don’t use words.” Memphis’s mask smiled down at her. “I use waves.”

 

“Waves?” Sara frowned. “How?”

 

“I’ll kill you all,” said the charm maker. He raised a hand.

 

“Sleep,” commanded Sara. A rune wrote itself on the man’s forehead. His eyes closed

and he snored.

 

“Every magician has to have a speciality.” Memphis held up his hands. A ribbon

danced between the palms. “Mine is waves, and streams.”

 

“Mine is words.” Sara smiled. “That’s great.”

 


He closed his hands together. He pulled them away from each other. Words danced

between them.

 


“All I can do is fields.” Moshe looked down at his own hand. A bubble sat in the

palm. “Is that all I can do with what I have?”

 

“You can expand beyond that.” Memphis closed his hands together and then pulled

them apart. A bubble sat between the palms. “Bubbles just make it easier for you to

work your magic. More experience will let you branch out.”

 

“Okay.” Moshe popped the bubble in his hand. “What about this guy?”

 

“He should be imprisoned in a normal prison but no court would believe he was

guilty.” Memphis looked up. “It’s better that he goes to sleep for a while. When he

wakes up, you’ll be able to deal with him if I can’t be here.”

 

Memphis summoned the natural power around him. He pushed the charm maker into

a coffin of glass. The ground opened up and the coffin sank out of sight.

 

“He’ll be back in a few years.” The man in black started walking from the ring. “You

might want to practice harder to get ready for him.”

35,914

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Destroyer

5000bc-

part 1

“Yes, I know I need exactly the right spot.” The hunchback held his collection of

scrolls to his chest. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”

 

He paused as if listening. Then his lined face twisted in anger.

 

“I know what I am doing.” The hunchback paused. “I don’t need you to keep talking

to me about it. I just need to find the right place. Once I touch the Spring, I will be

able to activate the rest of the words.”

 

He started walking again.

 

“Yes, the way will be clear for the Destroyer to arrive.”

 

The hunchback walked until he arrived at the city’s harbor. He ignored the various

styles, languages, and foreigners. He had a place next to a warehouse. Once he was

home, he could divine where he needed to go to carry out the rest of his bargain.

 

The Destroyer would spare him as the summoner. He would have some sort of

leverage to keep his part of the Earth as it was. The rest would be gutted and shaped

to whatever means the otherworldly force wanted.

 

That didn’t bother the hunchback. The only thing that mattered was that he got what

he wanted out of the deal. If the rest of humanity suffered and died, so what? They

should have spent years learning how to do summonings and dismissals.

 

Then they could try to stop the Destroyer when he arrived with his army.

 

He set the scrolls on a stand. He settled in his favorite cloth chair. He didn’t

remember where he had gotten the chair, but it helped him with the curve of his spine.

He needed that relief for a second as he tried to think of his next move.

 

He decided the best thing to do was try to draw a map. That might give him a clue

which way he should go to harness the Spring.

 

“Yes, I know what’s at stake.” He jumped from his chair. “I’m doing the best I can.

The last time the Destroyer was summoned, it required an army of magicians. I’m

only one man. Be patient.”

 

He exhaled a breath. The spirits inside him didn’t want to give him a moment’s peace.

He needed them to work their power to his own ends, but he hated their demands.

 

If he did the wrong thing, he could turn his being into a torch that would burn a

millennium.

 

He refused to ruin his chance for a better body because his allies didn’t appreciate the

limits on his ability.

 

It was better to be slow and methodical than rushing and stabbing yourself with your

own stylus.

 

And his methods had worked for him so far.

 

The hunchback decided to spend the rest of the night reading. Once he was sure the

scrolls held what he wanted, he could move to the next step. Then he probably had

to arrange for traveling.

 

He doubted the spot he wanted to use would be in the city where he was. That would

make things too easy.

 

And the city had a protector whose responsibility was stopping people like him doing

the thing he planned to do. He didn’t need a duel with another magician before he put

his plan into mission.

 

He had a great deal of personal power but he doubted it would be useful against

another magician with equal skill.

 

He prepared a dinner of bread and cheese before he began his reading. He had a barrel

of rainwater to drink from. He dipped out a cup from the wooden cask. He spread out

the first scroll and went over it while he ate.

 

He didn’t learn anything from the writing. He moved to the next one, and then the

third. The fourth one gave him a clue on how to work the portal. The fifth one

mentioned the ritual he wanted to perform. He found measurements, effects, and what

could be expected when the spell worked. The spell didn’t state what would happen

if the Destroyer was successfully summoned.

 

He expected the name of the creature was usually enough to warn off practitioners

that should know better.

 

He didn’t really care about that. Once his task was done, then he could walk without

pain for once.

 

“All right.” He rolled the scrolls up and placed them on the stand. “Everything looks

like it’s possible. I just need a power location to get started. I am going to try to

divine one, then get some sleep. After that, I will try to find the place, and arrange

transportation.”

 

He held up a hand at unheard exclamations. He waited for silence.

 

“There’s no way I will be able to do this as rapidly as you want.” He gestured at his

body with mismatched hands. “Look at me. It will be an act of the gods if I can reach

the place of power without dying on the way. I understand how you feel, but you will

have to wait.”

 

He listened to the air. He ground his teeth together. He had made a mistake absorbing

these spirits into his mind. He should have put them in an artifact that he could use

at will without having to listen to them.

 

“Enough.” The hunchback shouted to the empty room. “I have decided our course.

I need you to think about how you can help me in the projected future that I have laid

out.”

 

He sat in his chair. He shut his mismatched eyes. Maybe he should sleep first before

he tried to find where he needed to go to do the ritual.

 

The muttering of rebellion and betrayal decided him. He had to at least try with the

writing. Then they would allow him to sleep for a bit.

 

He hoped he was ready to carry the spell out. If he failed, they would chew at his

mind until he did something that he would regret later.

 

He should have really tried to confine them to artifacts instead of carrying them

around inside of him. They vexed him over which way the sun set some days.

 

He looked over his supplies until he found a piece of vellum he could write on with

a pen and ink. He spread the vellum on the table. He held the corners down with rocks

he had picked up to use for that purpose. He found his bottle of ink, and a quill pen

he sharpened to do what he wanted. He set them on the table.

 

He closed his eyes as he unstoppered the bottle. He dipped the pen in the ink. He

pulled the pen out. He murmured words as his hand moved the pen. He stopped when

he heard a skritch from the pen. The drawing was complete when that happened.

 

He opened his eyes and put the pen up. He studied the drawing. He exhaled. He knew

that the place was represented by a circle of pillars. A sun rising meant it was east of

where he was. He had to travel to a desert east of where he was. He was looking at

miles of movement to get where he needed to be.

 

“Are you happy?,” he asked the spirits. “Can I get some sleep?”

 

He frowned at what the voices told him.

 

“No.” He sat down in his chair. “There’s no telling where the site is. I am getting a

nap before I try to find it. If it’s too far away, it might take another few years to find

it for the summoning. I’m not trying to find a place strange to me without some kind

of rest because you expect me to be your slave. I am your master, and I require some

time before I start on the next step of the plan.”

 

He waved the complaints away.

 

“I need the sleep.” He closed his eyes. “I’m going to take that rest. Tomorrow will be

the day I leave the city for this search. I will need to use the divination to keep us on

track. I expect your help with that.”

 

He waved aside their objections as he concentrated on getting his sleep. Having them

in his body gave him vitality, and relieved some of his pain. The constant arguments

on priorities angered him more than he liked.

 

Still, he was making progress, and if there was a problem, he had the perfect

sacrifices. Let another magician stand up to a spell powered by a water spirit. He

would drown before he came up with the right counter.

 

Using a spirit like that would cause it to destroy itself. It would hurt his personal

power to an unknown degree. The only good side was he could use his enemy’s spirit

as a replacement if he caught the magician’s last exhalation.

 

Maybe a human spirit would be better as a source of power than inhuman spirits.

 

He ignored his dreams as he slept. Lately, the spirits tried to invade his mind through

them. It was better just to lock them away. Then when he woke up, he was back on

even footing with the spirits without whatever they tried to plant in his mind to

release them.

 

He woke up in the morning, the port already bustling around his little place. It was

time to pack up and try to find his destination.

 

“Yes, yes.” He didn’t have to check his food. He didn’t have any left after his dinner

the night before. He found several water bags and filled them from his barrel. He put

his magick supplies in a carrying bag that he could hang from his high shoulder. The

scrolls went in another bag. He held the drawing in both hands. How could it help

him now?

 

He doubted it could do much, but it should point him in the right direction.

 

He hoped he didn’t have to go far to get to where he wanted to go.

 

He held the drawing as he left his hovel for the last time. He held it in front of him as

he walked. He found a boat that drew his sight. He held the drawing in front of the

boat. It wiggled in his hands. This was the transportation that he needed.

 

“It’s not exact.” He shook his head. He was using a drawing of a place that might not

exist to decide on boarding a boat to get to that place in the hope of satisfying spirits

complaining about his moves. How had his life turned out like this?

 

He put the drawing away as he walked to the boat he wanted to travel on. If he could

get on board, he could ride with it until it reached the spot he needed to go.

 

It wasn’t perfect. That didn’t matter. He could use his spell work to secure passage,

and be let off on land where he needed to go.

 

Arranging something to carry him on land would be a different kettle of trouble in his

opinion.

 

That would take care of itself when he got to it.

37,756

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Destroyer

5000 BC-

Part 2 

The hunchback held the drawing up so he could use it as a comparison to the

landscape he was crossing. He was close. He felt that. He just didn’t know how close

he was.

 

He didn’t try to hush the voices in his brain. They were pointing out favorable paths

for him to walk. He thanked the gods they were finally proving their value to him.

 

The last thing he needed at the moment was for his inner voices to start arguing again.

He didn’t want to be the peacemaker until he could get them all harnessed together

again.

 

“I think we’re close.” He turned in a circle, with the drawing high so he could

compare the picture to reality. “We’re very close.”

 

He smiled when he saw pillars of rock sticking out of the desert. He looked at the

drawing. Then he looked at the pillars.

 

“We’re here.” He put the drawing away. Energy crackled at his feet as he touched the

Spring. This would boost his power immensely once he got started.

 

The spirits murmured for him to get started right away. Finishing the job had to be

done that day. Then they could reap the reward.

 

“Patience.” The hunchback walked to the edge of the ring. Some other magician had

put the markers in place. He felt the Spring bubbling to that spot. Once he started, the

energy would be used up rapidly. He needed to be ready with every tool at his

disposal to make the summoning work the first time. If it didn’t, he might have to

wait months, possibly years, for the Spring to renew itself in that spot.

 

The spirits would not like having to wait because he miscued his spell work. The

future would be full of whispered curses and vitriol.

 

And he already had enough of that. He wanted them to sing his praises and respect

his authority. He supposed that would be too much to demand from them.

 

He murmured as he crossed the threshold of the ring. The Spring coursed through

him. He could do his spell, but if a stronger magician arrived to stop him, the Spring

would answer to the magician faster on the attack.

 

Of course, that was why he had the spirits. They could operate for him while he did

what was necessary to carry out the plan. Then he could collect his reward from the

Destroyer.

 

It would be good to have a straight back after so many years of being a freak.

 

What would the Destroyer want in return? None of the lore suggested anything. He

doubted that simple passage to Earth would be enough to assuage any demand for

payment.

 

He could worry about that when his demands were met. Trading the world for fixing

his back seemed good enough for him.

 

He turned a circle in the center of the ring. A slab of stone had been laid down as a

table, or altar. Traces of prior work drifted above the slab. He didn’t see any

bloodstains. He would deal with the setting and then move on to work his own spell.

 

“Yes, I know.” He shook his head. Of course, he had to make the proper marks and

write the nonexistent words that were required. “I think I know a little better than

you.”

 

He had trapped them. What did they know about the things he was capable of as a

summoner? He definitely was going to check everything before he empowered the

spell. He didn’t want to open the door a little, and then get sucked in through the

opening to what lay on the other side.

 

He doubted it would be a desert.

 

Other places had their own laws. He doubted any place that housed something like

the Destroyer would operate like Earth did. He had to be ready to close the door if he

couldn’t make an arrangement with the other land’s king.

 

Of course, the Destroyer may be so powerful that once the door was open, there might

be no closing it. He might be dooming humanity without getting his back fixed at all.

 

He was willing to take that chance. Humanity would just have to suffer if he was

wrong.

 

He doubted his spirits would serve him well in the face of overwhelming power. He

expected them to try to break their locks, and only fight when they saw they would

die with him if they did nothing.

 

He smiled at their yammering. Soon he would be able to rework the various contracts

that held his servants in place. He expected a lot of anger to express itself as he went

about his business.

 

He would call the Destroyer. Then he would have the body he wanted with a part of

the world to match.

 

And he might be able to silence the spirits in his mind by fully absorbing them into

his being. Their intellects would be gone as they became engines of power he could

use at will.

 

And his head would only have his own voice in it instead of sharing it like he did

now.

 

He looked at the dimensions of the ring. The gate would be smaller than he liked, but

he still had enough room to work with by his calculations. It was time to start creating

the diagram that he needed to have to summon the Destroyer to Earth. Then he could

keep it bound until he got what he wanted from the spirit.

 

He saw a life of luxury ahead for him. No more drudgery, luck charms, or hovels. A

castle would be the start of his rise.

 

Anyone who survived the coming of the Destroyer would have to depend on him and

his skills for their protection.

 

He drew a circle around the pillars. That would prevent anyone from stopping him

while he worked. He started on the diagram, using his hand to draw in the ground on

the inside of the circle. When he had finished the last letter, he drew a circle inside

the words to keep the other world in its own place.

 

He doubted the inner circle would hold against the full might of the Destroyer, but he

just wanted a few minutes to talk to the fiend. He didn’t want to be the first thing

destroyed when the invasion started.

 

“You’re making a mistake.” A voice cut through his thoughts, and it wasn’t one of

his. He looked around until he saw a man in robe and cloak, smoking a pipe. One eye

squinted under naturally raised eyebrows as he examined the drawing in the circle.

“This summons is nothing but trouble.”

 

“Who are you to question me?” The hunchback glared at the creature standing there.

It wasn’t a man. He could tell that with a glance.

 

“No one important.” The stranger waved a hand. “I’m just telling you that you

shouldn’t use this incantation. It will cause a lot of trouble for a lot of people.”

 

“I’m willing to take that risk.” The hunchback glared at the entity. “And you can’t

stop me.”

 

“There’s some people coming who can stop you,” the stranger said. He checked his

pipe. He pulled a pouch of tobacco from inside his robe. He filled the pipe and put the

bag away. “I let them know what you were doing.”

 

“They won’t stop me.” The hunchback frowned at this intruder. “All I have to do is

start. They are too late.”

 

“Do you really want to kill everything in the world?” The stranger lit his pipe. “Don’t

you think that’s excessive?”

 

“As long as I get what I want, the rest is inconsequential.” The hunchback decided

the entity couldn’t cross the barrier he had set up. As long as he couldn’t, then he

couldn’t stop the spell. His friends were of no account.

 

“Don’t do this,” said the stranger. “You could be dooming the world.”

 

The hunchback started chanting. Talking to some ghost was not going to change his

mind at this point. He had set his course, and he should follow it to the end.

 

A cloud appeared over the ring as he said the words of the spell over and over. He felt

the Spring respond to him, lending him strength as he worked. He smiled as he made

the gestures. The diagram lit with blue fire as he sent his call across the dimensional

planes.

 

He spared a glance at his visitor as he worked. The expression he was one of

resignation. The warning had been issued. Things would have to be done to stop the

summoning.

 

He saw that, but knew the entity couldn’t breach the circle. He was unstoppable.

 

The cloud formed a disk in the air. The call had been accepted. The Destroyer was

coming.

 

A flying missile sliced through the standing stones and slammed into the hunchback.

One of his spirits roared and saved him from being killed by turning his body into

rock. He was still knocked out of the ring by the blow.

 

One of his spirits caught the hunchback with a stream of wind. He floated to a stop

on the ground. He smiled. His summons had gathered enough power to run on its

own. All he had to do now was stall until the Destroyer arrived to defend him.

 

The missile became a man in a light blue tunic with a green star on the shoulder strap.

He landed on the desert floor with a puff of dust. He looked mildly irritated.

 

“What are you doing, magician?” He grabbed the hunchback by the neck. “Stop this.”

 

Sand and dirt blasted the newcomer off his feet. It buried him before he could recover

from his surprise.

 

“Why should I stop?” The hunchback smiled. “I’m getting everything I want.”

 

He walked over to enter the circle again. Once he was back in place, he could speed

up the summoning portal until it was big enough for his intended guest to arrive. He

spotted more men arriving from the air. He grimaced. He should have expected others

would try to stop him from his goal.

 

He would not let them. It was time to let his spirits out to do what they liked to do

best.

 

A rumbling from the ground presaged the man in the tunic pushing out of the ground.

He appeared angry about what had happened. He would be even angrier about what

was going to happen next.

 

Hideous forms erupted from the hunchback. He sank to one knee outside of his

protective ring. His soldiers would have to fight for him. That was all he could do

now.

 

Without the Spring, he wasn’t strong enough to take control of the spell. He had

to get back to the inside of the ring while his minions did their part.

 

Then he could feed some of the Spring’s energy to them so they could be better

defenders for him.

 

The man with the green star was trying to fight his way through a mobile avalanche

that kept trying to bury him. Two magicians tried to disperse a walking fire and a

shark made out of water. Every time they did, the creatures reformed and returned to

the attack. A jinn fought his air spirit. The jinn’s master and a whirling tower of edges

swung swords at each other with the steady clanging of metal on metal. The last man

seemed ordinary enough, shooting arrows into the goblin maker the hunchback used

to make instant armies at his command.

 

He murmured a spell to get through the protective line. He realized the green star man

had not used magic to break the line. He didn’t know what was going on with

that one, but he didn’t have time to speculate. He had to get inside and take over the

Spring so his spirits could do what he needed them to do.

 

And these meddlers would be the first ones given to the Destroyer when he arrived.

 

He heard a hum. He looked up. The cloud that marked where the borders touched

expanded as it pulled more of the Spring’s energy into the sky. This was what he

wanted.

 

The Destroyer was coming and no one could stop it. He hadn’t counted on these

meddlers, but it didn’t matter. He was going to win this duel.

 

“There’s still time for you to stop.” The entity stood outside the circle. “You can write

this off and do something else.”

 

“It is not my concern what the Destroyer does with the rest of you as long as he fixes

my body as he agreed.” The hunchback glared at the spirit. “If I were you, I would

get away from here before he arrives and crushes you.”

 

“If you were me, you wouldn’t be doing this in the first place.” The spirit raised a

hand. He pressed that hand against the shield granted by the protective circle.

 

“It’s time, and I won.” The hunchback pointed at the expanding cloud above. A giant

ivory hand reached out of the cloud. “Now you will know what it means to cross me.”

 

39,955

Link to comment
Share on other sites

TheDestroyer

5000 BC-

Part 3

The hunchback readied himself for his next spell. The lord of the other realm was

coming to Earth. All he had to do now was tap that potential power to fix himself and

arm himself to stand up to any magician who tried to duel him.

 

His name would be feared as the man who destroyed the world. People would bow

down at his passing. He could take anything he wanted. He would be the new master

of the world.

 

“Are you sure you want to keep on this course?” The entity that had arrived before

the others stood in the Spring with him. “It can only end badly for you.”

 

“How did you get in here?” The hunchback raised a hand.

 

“You let me in.” He puffed on his pipe. “There’s still time to change your mind. A lot

of people don’t get that when they’ve made a mistake.”

 

The hunchback murmured words in the air. A lance of purple light appeared in his

hand. He flung it at his gadfly. Destroying a construct should be easy for him to do.

 

The javelin fell to the ground. The target had swept the air in front of him with a

hand. That caused the weapon to change course and strike the ground. It shattered to

nothingness on impact.

 

The entity puffed on his pipe as he advanced. All he had to do was evict the

summoner from his own spell work. That should be easy enough to do.

 

The hunchback invoked protection from his enemy. He felt the grid of signs slide

between them. One touch and he could use his power to steal the spirit in front of him

and use him as a weapon against the others.

 

That would be the quickest way for him to get what he wanted.

 

“A spirit trap.” The smoker shook his head. “You know these can be used on their

creators?”

 

He tapped the grid with his pipe’s stem. The symbols reversed. A wind pulled on the

hunchback’s body, pulling on his inner spirit.

 

The hunchback murmured again, reversing the spirit trap while throwing another

lance at his enemy. Let it counter that.

 

A hand directed the lance into the spirit trap. The conjoined spells transformed into

a small yellow and white dog. The dog growled at the hunchback.

 

The dog charged with a snapping of its jaws. It snatched at his ankles with growling

and the clacking of teeth. A kick sent it across the protective line with a yelp.

 

“I’ve had enough of you.” The hunchback concentrated on unleashing a storm inside

the pillars. He regretted unleashing all of his spirits to hold the magicians off while

he tried to complete his plans. He murmured a call for a monster that should be able

to handle this meddler. Then he could get back to his business.

 

A swarm of black appeared out of a cloud. Yellow spots could have been eyes. It

flung itself on the man with no name.

 

“Time to fix my back and end this battle for good.” The hunchback raised his hands.

A set of spells in the middle of the Spring should do what he wanted despite what the

others wanted.

 

A fist slammed against his protection. He flew over the line, thrown from his position.

He murmured more protections before he hit the sand and rock and slid. The man

with the green star floated in the ring of pillars.

 

The summoned beast turned to glare at the flying man. He smashed it together with

both hands as it leapt into the air to seize him.

 

The hunchback climbed to his feet. He surveyed the battlefield. How was he going

to turn this around?

 

The entity with no name and the flying man were in control of the Spring. His

servants had been defeated and dispersed as far as he could tell. He might be able to

recall them to action if he had more power. Some of the meddlers had been hurt by

his minions. He counted that as partial success. He was going to have to kill them

eventually if they got in his way. He had a small chance to do that now.

 

The hand of the Destroyer grabbed the swordsman. The massive fingers closed and

crushed the life out of the hero.

 

The hunchback smiled as ash flew into the wind. That was one of his tormentors

done. Now he had to kill the rest.

 

An arc of lightning struck the dead man’s sword. It changed as the hunchback

marshaled his own forces. The sword flew into the air, a thing of white bone and

lightning.

 

It never came back down.

 

The hunchback murmured a spell. He had to get back in control of the Spring. That

would give him the power to stop the others.

 

Sand covered him in a cloud. He closed his eyes as the desert became his weapon. All

he had to do was inflict as much damage as he could to the other magicians and

reduce them to the same condition as the one who died.

 

Two of the magicians turned as he approached. He gathered more sand as he ran at

them. He would be a giant crushing gnats by the time he arrived to deal with them.

Then he could take the Jinn from the Easterner and use it as a weapon against those

in the pillars. He liked the simplicity of it.

 

Twin beams of spells struck his sandy shell. He exploded out of his protection. He hit

the ground again. He murmured a summons to provide a distraction. There was no

way for him to win against both of the magicians. They knew what he could do, but

he didn’t have any clue how to counter their spells at the moment.

 

He needed to escape so he could try some other scheme to gather power. He couldn’t

afford to be exposed with no power to fall back on. He hated that he had to abandon

his scheme when he was so close, but if he didn’t, he would be at their mercy.

 

His distraction arrived in a fog drifting away from the scene. He threw a screen over

it with a few murmured words. Let them stop that.

 

He limped in the opposite direction. There was no need to watch the battle. He had

to get away before anyone thought to try to stop him.

 

How long did he have before their magic reached out for him?

 

He needed cover. He was as good as caught if he remained in the open.

 

It was too bad about his guardians. They had been troublesome and frequently loud,

but he was almost unarmed without them. He had developed them to be exemplars.

Then he had lost them to a gang of motley idiots.

 

At least one of the idiots had been killed by the Destroyer.

 

That was a small victory considering what he had almost done. Killing one of the

group was nothing. He wanted to kill them all.

 

He looked over his shoulder. The group seemed to be having problems with his

summons. He smiled. He might have the time to get away from this fiasco after all.

 

The hand of the Destroyer started withdrawing back into the cloud between worlds.

The entity in command of the Spring must have reversed the call. The overlord would

not be striding across the world that day.

 

The hunchback murmured and the ground split at his feet. He sank below the surface.

He asked to be carried to the sea. That was the best he could do at the moment. He

could hide among regular people until he planned his next chance at power.

 

The Spring would move to some other place. He didn’t know where. He didn’t know

when it would come back to the pillars. He could wait for another chance, or actively

seek something out before his enemies caught up with him.

 

His hovel was protected from detection. He could use that to build up his power to

carry out another scheme. He didn’t know what that was yet, but he was sure he

would come up with something. He had counted on calling on something with great

power to get what he wanted.

 

He had not counted on the other magicians getting in his way when he was so close.

He still didn’t know how that one flying man had been able to cross the line. That

should have been impossible.

 

What kind of magic did he possess to do what he had done?

 

He foresaw a huge amount of time researching his enemies before he could kill them

in the most painful way they deserved for stopping him from harnessing the

Destroyer’s godlike power.

 

He rose out of the ground. He looked around. None of his enemies seemed close. He

saw the water ahead. He had husbanded a great deal of personal power. That didn’t

matter now.

 

All that mattered was escaping to start over.

 

He walked into the water, murmuring as he went. He sank beneath the waves. He felt

for a current and stepped into it. It didn’t matter where he went as long as he escaped.

Then he could plan his next move to gain the power he sought.

 

The water pushed him away from the shore. As long as he did nothing more active

than making sure he wouldn’t drown, the water should cover him until the other

magicians gave up looking for him. Then he could try to get to his hovel.

 

At least he didn’t have to worry about spending all of his power while riding the

current. The sea carried him along at a rapid pace. He would not thought of moving

so fast under the water.

 

As soon as he was close enough to home, he would think about leaving his shield.

41610

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Interview

2015-

Marcel Hobart checked the address from the ad against the building in front of him.

He looked up and down the street. He didn’t see anything else marked Lamplighters,
Inc. A lantern hanging over the door seemed to mock him with its blue flame.
 
It looked run down. Should he go inside, or should he just write this job off? He was
getting a weird vibe from the building. It was telling him to walk away.
 
Ordinarily Marcel listened to his inner voice. It had kept him from getting shot more
than a few times. He needed a job, and the ad said this place needed someone with
his skill set.
 
He put the ad in his pocket. He walked over. The place’s front had taken some kind
of beating in the past. He saw numerous scoring marks that reminded him of the
aftermath of explosions. Had someone attacked the place? Is that why someone with
his background was being considered?
 
He took a breath before opening the human-sized door. He looked inside. A pile of
trash stood in the middle of the open floor. He blinked at it. He had thought the place
was up and running.
 
He stepped inside. No one seemed to be around. Maybe he had come at the right time.
He checked his watch. He was a little early for his appointment. Maybe he should
write this off.
 
“Hello!,” he shouted to the empty room. “Is anyone here?”
 
A woman appeared at the top of a central spiral staircase. She frowned at him. Then
she smiled.
 
“Mr. Hobart?” She came down the staircase. “Come in. Please excuse the mess.
We’re trying to get back in fighting shape.”
 
“Your ad said you were looking for applicants.” Marcel walked deeper into the bay.
He saw that a mechanic’s tool shelves decorated the walls. “Have I come at a bad
time?”
 
“No, no.” She waved to a visitor’s seat in front of a desk at the back of the room.
“We’ve been shut down for a while, and we’re getting ready to start back up.”
 
“Okay.” Marcel sat down in the chair. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”
 
“I’ll be honest, Mr. Hobart.” She sat down on the other side of her desk. “You
have to pass two tests before I can even think about giving you the paperwork
to fill out. You have to test clean for drugs, and you have to pass our eye test.”
 
Marcel frowned. He expected a drug test. That part was in the ad. An eye test seemed
a little much to base hiring practices on.
 
“An eye test?” He had perfect vision as far as he knew. He should be able to pass an
eye test.
 
“A lot of our equipment will be keyed to your retinas.” She smiled. “If the scanner
can’t lock on to your eyes, it won’t turn anything on. That could be suicide in the
field.”
 
“I get that.” Marcel did get it. Your equipment failing and killing someone seemed
to be a perfect reason to check your employee’s eyeballs if you didn’t want to kill
him. “Is this job dangerous? I didn’t see any specifics in your ad.”
 
“It’s one of the most dangerous jobs in the world right now.” She smiled. It didn’t
ease his alarm at the words. “The owner of the business lost his three partners when
a job went bad. That’s what you’re signing up for if you can pass the tests.”
 
“Maybe I should bow out.” Marcel felt his warning agreeing with the words. “I didn’t
really expect any danger.”
 
“That’s understandable.” She nodded. “I’ll discard your application. It was nice to
meet you, Mr. Hobart.”
 
“I’m sorry for wasting your time.” Marcel stood up. “I just don’t want to get shot
again.”
 
“That’s understandable.” She stood. “Would you like a sandwich and some coffee for
your trouble?”
 
“A glass of water would be fine.” Marcel nodded. “Thank you.”
 
“No problem.” She walked up the staircase, pulling off her rubber gloves.
 
Marcel felt something with him. He looked around the room. He spotted picture
frames hidden behind a file cabinet. He walked over to look at them. He knew he
shouldn’t, but his curiosity was pulling him even as his warning was saying get out
as loud as it could.
 
“I thought you was a marine, boy.” A voice drifted out of the air as he started to look
at the pictures. “What a chicken.”
 
Marcel straightened. He didn’t know what irked him more: someone had caught him
snooping and he hadn’t heard them walking toward him, or being called a chicken by
someone who didn’t know him.
 
“I don’t see how that’s your business.” Marcel wondered why the guy was dressed
like a cowboy from a movie. All he needed was one of those long coats.
 
“Your daddy must be proud you turned out such a horrible example of a human
being.” The cowboy shifted his hat back on his head. “He must congratulate himself
every night on the job he done.”
 
“My father has nothing to do with this.” Marcel knew what was going on. This
guy was trying to make him change his mind by angering him and attacking
his courage. “Who do you think you are?”
 
“Milton Kearn, boy.” The cowboy smiled slightly. “It’s something I carry with pride
since I never had to run like a dog with its tail between its legs. Is that how you
survived when the rest of your squad died? You ran like the coward you are?”
 
“That’s not what remotely happened.” Marcel glared at his accuser.
 
“What happened, Corporal?” The cowboy crossed his arms. “How did you survive?”
 
“I can’t tell you that.” Marcel had signed a document ordering him not to talk about
what had happened that had led to him getting his purple heart.
 
“I’ll tell you then, Corporal Hobart.” The cowboy glared at him. “Corporal Hobart
and his squad was on a patrol. They walked into an ambush. Enemy fire raked them
before they could take cover. Corporal Hobart was shot twice while abandoning his
men to the enemy. At least they gave you a purple heart for getting shot in the back
when you broke.”
 
“That’s not what happened.” Marcel glared back. “I was leading the patrol. I was shot
when I turned to warn my guys about the ambush. I lucked out and fell into a culvert
and was overlooked while the massacre was going on. All my friends died. I managed
to crawl out of the area and was picked up by another patrol. All of this was
investigated. I was discharged because of my wounds.”
 
“Maybe you were discharged because it looked like you ran.” Kearn gestured with
a hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time they got rid of a suspected chicken.”
 
“Maybe, but that doesn’t matter now.” Marcel felt his rage dissipating. “What matters
now is I don’t have a job, and I am running out of my savings.”
 
“This is a job for you, Corporal Hobart,” said Kearn. “Too bad you’re too much of 
a yellowbelly to take it.”
 
“You’re not taunting me into changing my mind.” Hobart shook his head.
 
“Your pay will take care of your family.” Kearn shrugged. “If you get killed, your
children will be taken care of for the rest of their lives.”
 
“I don’t believe it.” Marcel crossed his arms. “Why should I believe you?”
 
“Cause I set up the funds to pay for deaths and injuries, boy.” Kearn sneered. “How
do you think the business is restarting? It’s because I prepared for a day when it had
to be set up if there was a catastrophic problem.”
 
“So if I take the job, I can support my family?,” said Marcel. “If I get killed, the
settlement will pay for my kids’ education?”
 
“If you’re man enough.” Kearn pulled his hat down over his eyes. “If you think you
can do better than me.”
 
“I can do better than you.” Marcel felt his warning telling him to back off. He ignored
it. No bigot was going to tell him he couldn’t do the job better. The gauntlet had hit
him in the face. He was ready to grab it and slap his accuser back.
 
“I would like to see you try, yellowbelly.” Kearn smiled, but it wasn’t a smile with
a lot of humor in it.
 
“Mr. Hobart?” The lady came down the stairs. A cup was in her hands. She looked
confused.
 
Marcel glanced at her. When he looked back at where Kearn stood, the cowboy was
gone. The man had gone as silently as he had arrived.
 
“Is it too late to change my mind?” Marcel knew that most people wouldn’t hire you
after you turned down the job. “Is the opening still open?”
 
“If you can pass the tests.” She handed him the cup. “I can do the eye test right now,
and then call for you to get your drug test at the lab we use.”
 
“I would like to do that.” Marcel sipped the water. He realized his mouth was dry
after the confrontation with Kearn. “Paperwork will be filed after I get the test back?”
 
“That’s right.” She smiled. “Why the second thoughts?”
 
“I have to think about my kids.” Marcel gestured at the picture frames. “What are you
going to do with those pictures?”
 
“I’m going to rehang them as soon as I get the place cleaned out.” She shook her
head. “Mark really let the place go after he shut things down.”
 
“Is it okay if I look at them?” Marcel felt his warning kick in. He shouldn’t look at
those pictures. He should wait.
 
“I don’t see why not.” She smiled. “It’ll give me a chance to make my lunch before
I give you the eye test.”
 
“Thanks.” Marcel frowned as he tried to remember the name of the voice on the
phone when he set up his appointment. “Miss Hillsmeirer?”
 
“No problem.” She smiled again. “If you pass, as soon as Mark gets back, we’ll get
you set up to train with the equipment to keep accidents down.”
 
Marcel nodded. He pushed the stack up so he could look at the first one in the row.
It was a newspaper clipping. He frowned as he read the headline. LAMPLIGHTERS
DIE SAVING THE CITY. The cowboy hat on the gurney being hauled away in the
picture looked too familiar to the applicant.
 
Marcel let the stack fall back in their original position as he thought about who he had
been talking to for the minute Miss Hillsmeirer had been upstairs.
43,384
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Guest
Unfortunately, your content contains terms that we do not allow. Please edit your content to remove the highlighted words below.
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

Loading...
  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
×
×
  • Create New...