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Progress and other things

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Alright, there’s no way to say this politely.

I fucked up. I made some mistakes at the university (or rather, with the online application for exams), and I also got slapped with a term paper that I have to hand in earlier than expected (on the order of two months earlier), and… Brennus and the Dreaming fell by the wayside. I’ve made little progress at either.

I’m currently trying to finish the Monkey Family chapter (I expect it to be around 10.000 words long, of which I have finished about half), followed by a Dreaming chapter, followed by three interludes for Brennus. I can’t promise anything, because I also have to arrange for a stay in ye good olde britain, and I’m honestly just tired and out of energy most of the time, and it’s hard to write good story when I’m like that.

Sincerely, and with heartfelt apologies,

Tieshaunn

Delay…

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Yeah, it’s becoming a running theme here.

Fun fact. When your weekends are your only free days, then that means they’re both the only days for writing and for doing stuff with friends and family. Hard to prioritise there.

Nevertheless, there is progress on the chapter, and strong progress, too. Since this is basically a giant fight plus plot, I don’t want to rush it though. So, I guess, it’ll be done when it’s done, and I’ll have to come up with something special to make up for the fucking delay. Please excuse the language.

Sincerely,

Tieshaunn Tanner

Status – Brennus & The Dreaming

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A quick update for everyone. I’m finally through with my exams, just had some paperwork to go through (and some personal stuff).

I’m working on the new Brennus chapter, and it should be done by tomorrow evening. Afterwards, I’ll get to the new Dreaming chapter. They’ll both be done within this week, that I can promise, but nothing more concrete (yet).

Thanks for your patience, everyone!

Sincerely,

Tieshaunn Tanner

B011.3 Monkey Family

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The street, and the house, came into view quickly – since I had the monkey (mostly) up to keep myself pristine, I poured on the speed, leaping across a block or two at a time. Thanks to its night vision, I could make out the good spots to land without causing any damage.

When I got closer to the house – in mid-leap towards it, aiming to land in front of the door – I was thankful for it for another reason, because I just barely saw someone enter the house, the door falling closed behind them.

That doesn’t bode well. I could think of three or four possible explanations for that, and none of them were likely to support my plan.

“Even the best-laid plan rarely survives contact with reality. Always be ready to adapt… and to exploit the chances the world offers you.”

Fuck you, Journeyman, I thought angrily as I landed near the house. You just had to put me in mind of him. I was usually good about keeping the memories down, but Journeyman had knocked the padlock loose with that last fucking advice. Knowing him, it was deliberate. I bet he got the Stone Lecture, too, from someone.

No time. Focus. Focus. There’s trouble afoot. I approached the door – it hadn’t been closed entirely – and snuck in, drawing the monkey closer to my body to avoid causing damage. Immediately, I could smell two strangers inside, as well as the lawyer and her son. I could also smell… brimstone?

Metahumans. I let the monkey swell again, taking full shape around me as I passed a huge mirror on the wall, taking a look at myself. Blue fur so dark it looked black covered me from my head to my ankles. A long tail lashed behind me (I had to be careful not to casually crush the furniture and building), covered in the same fur. My hands were jet black, large and long-fingered, with even darker, long nails. Same for my bare feet. My face… frankly, my face was the stuff of nightmares. A monkey’s face, jet black with big, blood-red eyes – the sclera black as a pit – and teeth as black as the nails. What was most unnerving, I thought, was that, unless I made a conscious effort (or went into a rage), the face was perfectly solemn… noble, even. The black horns that grew out of the sides of my head, curving backwards, looked almost like a crown, when I was upright and calm.

The two metahumans had ascended the stairs by the time I reached the bottom of them, and I could hear them approach the master bedroom – as if they knew where to go. I could sniff out a few more details – both of them were female, one smelling strongly of brimstone. The other one’s smell was… weird. Unlike anything I’d smelled before. Neither of them was part of the team I’d taken out earlier on.

Did the hit squad report to someone to organise this? No, they didn’t know who their employer was, or whom to report to apart from Mrs Saltston. I started sneaking up the stairs. They didn’t seem to have any enhanced senses like mine, or they would have noticed me already, but there was no reason to be careless. Whoever their employer may be, he or she must have organised this as soon as he heard of the hit squad’s failure… or perhaps even beforehand.

That actually made me angrier than the attempt on my life had. Who was this person? What were they even thinking? Why come after me, why go after an agent, when you had to fear reprisal from the Syndicate?

Or was this an internal matter? Someone from within the Syndicate? I didn’t know. Hell, I didn’t even know the current line-up of the Five. Kraquok would be on it, of course (I wasn’t sure if he could be killed and after almost a century, I doubted that he’d be interested in retirement) and I’d find it more believable that DiL turned into a philanthropist than that anyone took the Dowager out of the game.

Either way, though, I was in trouble. This might be people from the Syndicate, in which case I’d be pissing their superiors off by taking them down – or they were people who weren’t afraid of it. Meaning they either had one of the other big organisations to back them (scary thought – some of them made the Syndicate look like a freaking charity) or they were complete morons. I was hoping for complete morons. Or at least oblivious to what was really going on.

I reached the top of the stairs just as they reached the bedroom door, and saw that they apparently liked their traditional outfits – all skintight black faux-leather (it didn’t smell real). The one who smelled of brimstone wore a catsuit that left her arms bare up to her shoulders – and they were apparently made of volcanic rock, covered in cracks and holes that burned with faint embers. Some manner of pyrokinesis perhaps. Or worse, lava generation. I hated fighting people who could make or summon lava. Fortunately, the petrification didn’t seem to reach beyond her shoulders – there were thin strips of pale white skin visible between the rock and her leather-like suit. Might be she wasn’t any tougher than normal. I could also tell that she wasn’t wearing a helmet or anything, and just had dark brown hair tied into a tight bun.

The other one wore a catsuit made of the same material, only it covered her from head to toe, it seemed, leaving nothing (visible from behind) uncovered – but tight enough to show off a build that suggested physical enhancements. Plus, that weird, weird smell of hers.

Looks suggest physical enhancements. Probably at least one other power. I should take them both down quickly, preferably remove them from the premises with the same attack.

Which meant sneaking up and, preferably, tackling them out of the house, even through a wall or two. I was confident that I could take anything they could dish out for at least long enough to get them away from the civilians. But I wasn’t quite sure where the best place to fight would be – I hadn’t scouted the surroundings in anticipation of a battle.

No use. Sneak, wait for the right moment, remove them from the premises. Figure the rest out on the fly.

I moved closer as they entered the bedroom, creeping up on them.

The moment the weirdly smelling woman stepped into the room, there was a loud roar and a flash of light and she flew out of sight, the sound of a heavy crash indicating that she’d impacted the wall. I smelled gunpowder.

“I hate jobs like this,” murmured Brimstone as her arms began to glow brighter from within.

That’s my cue. I didn’t know what had happened to the other woman, but my money was on them having tripped the alarm and the lady of the house having more than just the one weapon I’d seen in her office. Nevertheless, unless she was secretly a metahuman herself, I wouldn’t give her much chance against two super-powered assassins.

I bellowed out loud, my shout loud enough to crack a mirror that hung on the wall nearby and kicked off the ground at the same time, vaulting towards the flinching assassin.

She made a startled sound somewhere between a scream and a gasp as I tackled her through the open door. I pushed on even while I sped up my senses, to take a look around the room.

Smelly had been hit hard – a good part of the left side of her costume was gone, at the height of her torso, and the skin beneath was bleeding – though the wounds looked shallow. Still, if she’d been a normal human, or a less tough meta, she’d probably be dead.

I took another step, turning my head. Mrs Saltston was standing with her back to the wardrobe, holding a rather flimsy-looking shotgun in her hands. I’d spent enough time around Gadgeteers to spot the telltale signs of a handcrafted Gadget, which would explain how she’d taken Smelly Girl down.

Perhaps it is fortunate that I didn’t have to enact my plan – God knows what else she might be packing.

Since I couldn’t see the boy, I assumed he was hiding in the wardrobe, and decided to follow my original plan to remove the assassins from the premises.

Lashing out with my tail, I grabbed the downed Smelly by her waist and charged on, straight through and out the window.

“Grab your boy and get out!” I shouted as we left the room.

“Fucker! What the hell!” Brimstone cursed and her arms burst into flames. Luckily, they weren’t particularly hot and didn’t even burn my (copious amounts of) hair – but I did feel the heat, which told me all I needed to know; best to avoid a direct hit.

Landing on the lawn, I threw her across the yard and into a huge tree, her body impacting it horizontally. This time, she did scream, but it cut off when I threw her compatriot to slam into her midsection.

“Don’t stop. Attack until they’re completely neutralised as a threat.”

I stopped my attack, sitting on my haunches, staring at them. I really ought to just take them down, but… I’d rather end this without any further fighting, to be honest. I wasn’t in the mood.

The two of them fell off the tree in a way I might have found comical if I wasn’t feeling so morose, but quickly jumped up to face me again. Brimstone’s arms lit up, but she didn’t attack immediately, instead waiting for her friend to get up as well.

Smelly seemed quite stunned, though I didn’t know whether it was because she’d been shot by whatever that gun was, or because she’d been thrown hard enough into her friend to put a few cracks into the old tree. Perhaps both.

Interesting. I would’ve pegged Brimstone as less tough than her friend, yet the impact doesn’t seem to have done much more than piss her off.

“This is a one-time offer,” I growled, letting the monkey slip into my voice to sound more intimidating than usual. “Run now. You can’t fight me, and even if you thought it might work, the authorities won’t be too far away in a neighborhood like this.” I finished, then just waited, staring stoically at them.

After a few heartbeats, they nodded and left, vaulting over the fence to leave.

I smirked to myself – I’d memorised their scents. It wouldn’t be too hard to track them down later on.

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Report and Final Schedule

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Yeah so, obviously, the whole updating on time thing is not going well right now. Eleven-hour shifts will do that to a writer.

I don’t know whether I’ll manage an update today (it would be a regular update – the power rangers file will be shelved until further notice), but I’ll certainly do what I can to finish something. This rather sad state of affairs may well continue until the end of September, I’m afraid.

To make a little something up to you all, I’ve decided to publish my final schedule for Book 1 – Brennus:

B011 Monkey Family

B012 Born At Sleep

B013 Call of the Sleeper

B014 Rift

B015 Gloom & Doom

B016 Supermassive Black Hole

B017 All Masks Fall

B018 All The Lost Ones

B019 Basil Blake

B.E Epilogues

Hopefully, I’ll be able to finish all this by February, then take a month or two off to get a head-start on editing for the book release (which will also include a near-complete rewrite of the first three arcs, I think) and focus a little more on The Dreaming. Then I’ll segue into the second book, parallel to writing the Dreaming and editing the old work if I don’t manage it during the break.

I hope you’ll stay with me until the end.

Until the next update, goodbye, and have good fun.

 

Sincerely,

Tieshaunn

B010.3 Falling Hearts

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Basil lowered his arm, removing the knife from her throat. “Hello. I did not expect you here,” he greeted her.

She rubbed her throat, as if checking for cuts – but he had not even nicked her skin. He was surprised to see that her hair was brown, which he really had not expected, not with the way she ran around in costume; but he could still recognise her by her pink visor, which she apparently kept at hand just like he always had his soft mask with him at all times.

<Brennus? Is that you?> she asked, her lips unmoving except to breathe. He looked down and saw that she was wearing a slightly bulky glove, blue with wires running through it, and her fingers were moving as if she was tapping keys.

“Just like how I control my suit’s functions,” he said, taking a closer look at her glove.

<Oh, I knew you used a similar system, I saw your fingers move every time you were in that suit!> she replied, her earlier question forgotten. She lifted the glove to show it off. <It’s still rather bulky, and easily damaged, though.>

“Why did you bring it along, then?” was his reply as he looked at it from beneath while she typed. A speaker was worked into the palm, and he could tell that the glove extended further down her arm, probably with some power source hidden somewhere beneath the bulky sweater. “Better bring a sturdy unit attached to your belt, or something in that vein.” He quickly looked her up and down – winter boots, baggy black pants, a blue turtleneck sweater. Nothing like his quickly converted costume. “Speaking of which, do you not have an emergency costume?”

She gave him a sheepish glance. <I didn’t think to make one – it’s not usually a problem for us official heroes, since we’re not supposed to do heroics at all when off duty.>

He stepped back, smiling (which should show, slightly, through his mask). “Why are you back here, then, attacking me?” he asked.

<How things are and how they should be are two vastly different things; that’s why we put on costumes and go out risking our lives, after all, right?> she answered with another question. <And speaking of costumes, how exactly did you work that jacket, did you have a second one over it as cover or…>

“Stop!” he said, raising a hand, palm out. “I just realise that we are taking an unnecessary risk staying here and chatting up… though we certainly should compare notes on those control gloves, at a later point in time,” he continued, trying to steer them away from the Gadgeteer Zone they would probably slip into in a moment.

She nodded. <Do you have a plan?>

Flipping the knife into the air and catching it, he said, “Get access to the surveillance system to destroy any recordings of the two of us, somehow contact the outside – hopefully, they did not cut all connections to the outside world.”

<Right. Let’s do that – but I need a costume first, or I can forget my secret identity as soon as someone snaps a cellphone picture of me.>

“I think I saw a SuperWear shop earlier. It should be nearby, and I can disable the cameras inside – though that will alert our opposition, if they took the surveillance system over, which I will assume they did.”

<Let’s hurry then.>

* * *

 

A few minutes, two disabled cameras (he had not had the time to tie them into loops) and one popped lock later, they were in the shop – and what a shop it was.

The original SuperWear had been the first commercial store for superhero and -villain costumes, founded in the late Twenties by the man who had been making and fixing Lady Light’s costumes (she used to go through a lot of them, before she mastered her powers) so as to make a living out of his talent (and make it tax deductible). He had provided custom-made outfits for anyone who could pay, thus preventing supervillains from coming after him – they were his customers, too, after all.

From there, it had grown and grown, and was now the biggest retailer of all things costume-related (they did not provide hand-tailored custom works anymore, though).

The one they were in had been hailed as the largest SuperWear store in the world, taking up space on every level of the Bright Arcades. Its interior was well-organised, easy to navigate and utterly exploding with colour. Basil had to blink when he first entered and turned the lights on.

“Well, at least you are sure to find something to wear,” he said, as Polymnia looked around in glee, then ran over to the girl’s section.

<No peeping!> she shouted back as she vanished among the racks of clothing.

“Not interested!” he shouted back, annoyed. As if every guy was a horn-dog like Outstep (or Dalia). “I will stand watch near the staircases!” And he proceeded to do just that. Fortunately, the lockdown had also closed the shutters of all shops; and though the front door had been opened again, most likely by the criminals so as to collect the customers and herd them all into one place. These guys work fast.

As was to be expected from criminals led by a mastermind. Kudzu was not exactly one of the big names – he just about cut the middle class – but Basil had, nonetheless, heard a bit about his exploits. He did not remember any flaws in his power, or even how exactly it worked – which was too bad, because people with mastermind powers usually had built-in blind spots their power could not account for (like Formula, a villainess whose power over math let her calculate even the future, but was utterly incapable of accounting for positive emotional factors).

Which would have been really good to know when going up against such a mastermind. If at least I knew whether he’s a precog or just a super-powered planner.

Either way, he closed the main entrance again (the shutters were mercifully quiet) and then disabled the mechanism, so it could no longer be opened from the central control, only from within the shop. Keep an escape route open to you, but deny your enemies the entry. Always a good thing to keep in mind.

Now if only I could access the cameras outside. But that would have to wait until they got to the control room (which was likely to be heavily guarded now, as Kudzu would almost assuredly be there) or some other access point to the system. Like perhaps the maintenance room? Only he had no idea where it was.

His train of thought was derailed when Polymnia stepped out from the racks of clothing.

<Done!> she said. <They actually have a bodysuit styled like my armor! Doesn’t it look great!?>

“It certainly looks… colourful,” he supplied. “But would not some more… uh… coverage, be good?” There were a lot of transparent parts to it. “How about you put that sweater on over it?”

Her face fell, and he got the feeling he said something wrong. <It doesn’t look… good?> she asked, the artificial voice sounding a little disappointed.

She even has mood settings for that thing – I so need the technology for Eudocia. “Oh, I’m sure it looks good… if you just want to, uh, you know, show off. But it looks a little bit, uh… indecent? As in, a lot? You are a little… young to wear that, I think.” Not to mention way too busty.

<I guess I’ll, uh, pick out something else…> she said, crestfallen.

“Please do. It really does not suit you. And do hurry, we do not have much time before someone gets here and tries to take us out!”

She hurried back into the racks of clothing, while Basil went back to watching the entryway, sliding behind a nearby rack of masks – and not a second too soon, as soon he heard someone shout on the other side.

Though he could not tell what was being said, the other person seemed agitated. He heard someone answer, and then the sound of something being stuck to the metal shutters.

“They are about to break through, I think!” he said in a normal voice – according to her public profile, she should be able ot easily hear it.

<I can hear them; coming through!>

And she stepped back into sight, now wearing a simple blue bodysuit with pink boots and a pink glove on her free hand, and a pink scarf that hid her face from the nose down. She had also gotten a wig in her usual colours.

Talk about garish. But it probably looked great to most guys – it was not her fault that Basil preferred a much more clothed style. “Get behind some cover,” he told her, pulling a stun grenade from his belt. “And cover your e-“

<Can you disable their communication equipment?> she asked suddenly, cutting him off, while she remained standing in full view. <If you can, I can take care of the rest.>

“I have a single emp grenade with me. Short range, so it should not affect your equipment. Do you have any weapons with you?”

<Kind of. Watch and be awed.>

“Guess I will have to trust you…” He took the grenade and threw it over to the entrance way, where it stuck to the doorframe over the door, ready to be set off. “I sure hope you know what you are doing.”

With some luck, she will show off some new invention of hers. If she is this confident in it, it ought to be good.

* * *

 

There was a surprisingly quiet series of explosions – really more of a succession of ‘plops’, each accompanying a circular part of the shutter being melted, forming the outline of a door.

Basil drew his knife in his left hand, and a stun baton in his right. He was still hidden behind the rack, using a nearby mirror to keep an eye on the entrance.

When the outline had been melted into it, a stiff kick dropped the whole section into the shop, and six men streamed inside, clad in battle fatigues and wielding highly tricked out assault rifles…

Oh, this is just too rich, Basil thought as he set the grenade off. There was barely any sound, just a short crackle, and then the men were inside, moving to surround Polymnia, guns held ready.

“Freeze!” their leader, a man wearing a red beret over his full-face mask, shouted as they formed a circle around her. “Surrender and you won’t be harmed!”

I do hope those rifles are not EMP-proof, Basil thought as he got ready to attack – they would probably search the shop, and he might catch one of them, at least, off-guard before anyone noticed their weapons were not working…

<Right back at you, Sirs,> Polymnia responded, setting her vocalizer to ‘cocky’. <You do know who I am, right?>

“Polymnia, Junior Hero, Sonic Gadgeteer, enhanced hearing,” he shot back rapidly. “We’ve read up on all the locals, girl. Now, take off that glove, get on your knees and put your hands behind your head! Right now!”

<Take off this glove? Sure, Sir,> she said, pulling her vocalizing glove off – very carefully and slowly. Basil could see the men get nervous, even though they were basically surrounding (well, they had formed a half-circle, to avoid crossfire) a teenage girl in a garish costume, taking off a strange glove…

Well, the had a lot of reason to be nervous.

“Get a move on, girl!” the leader shouted at her.

She smiled sweetly, and dropped the glove.

And then things went in a totally different way than he expected.

* * *

The men’s eyes tracked the glove for a fraction of a second, and that was enough, it seemed. Before even Basil could react, Polymnia had lashed out, kicking the leader so hard in the balls, he fainted on the spot.

Basil, and every other guy in the room, crossed their legs in sheer, instinctual, sympathetic reaction as the man simply collapsed with an almost gentle sigh.

Ow.

One of the men got his bearings back before the others, and aimed for Polymnia’s center of mass, squeezing his rifle’s trigger – and nothing happened. Much like Basil had expected, their rifles were the modern, highly modified type, probably some lesser version of Gadgeteer work.

Polymnia reacted instantly and, without ever putting the foot that had just crushed the leader’s family tree down, she swung around on her other heel and clipped the chin of the wannabe-shooter, knocking him out.

Now the others reacted, squeezing the triggers of their weapons – to no avail, as Polymnia moved faster than any human should, punching the next two men in the line-up with a fist to the chest for each, throwing them back into a rack of villain costumes for boys, which tipped over and buried them both.

She has been holding out on people, Basil thought as he stared, watching in awe as the petite girl whirled towards the men to her left (she had basically taken out the four in the middle of the half-circle) and threw herself at them, swinging her arms in two perfect (if rather lacking in a formal style) punches to the gut.

Basil was so stunned by the display that he almost did not react when the two criminals behind her dropped their rifles and drew simpler handguns in swift, smooth motions, opening fire.

“Look out!” he shouted, more by reflex than any conscious decision. It was that same reflex that made him vault out from behind his cover and throw his knife into the shin of the nearest gunman, while his baton hurled towards the other man’s arms.

The first man’s shots went wide, but the other was lucky enough to only take a glancing blow – and instead of shooting Polymnia in the back of the head, he shot her in the chest as she whirled around.

“No!” he shouted, running towards them, reaching for his second knife and a medikit… but Polymnia moved before he reached them, reaching out to crush the gun with one hand.

“But you’re just a-” the gunman began before she knocked him out with a single punch.

Basil reached her, staring. “W-what?”

She looked at him, then down herself, inspecting her suit. There were three holes in the chest, but the bullets had not penetrated her skin – only left slightly reddened skin, which was already fading. She sighed as she saw the damage.

“You are a brick?” Basil asked, surprised.

She looked at him, annoyed, and bent down to pick up her glove. When she had put it back on, she said, <I hate that word. I’m no brick! But yes, I’ve got Paragon-tier strength and toughness.>

Wow. “I never heard that you have that kind of power before, and I read up on you very thoroughly!” he replied, exasperated.

In response, she just smiled sweetly. <Well, no one expects the cute, multi-coloured music tech-girl to be able to shrug off small caliber fire and punch through concrete, so I keep it a secret. You know, just in case.> She winked at him.

And Basil thought, I know what Amy would say now, and it would not even be perverted. “That only makes you cuter, I think.”

She smiled even wider. <I know, right?!>

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