Slightly Adjusted Release Schedule

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Well, it had to happen, and it’s not really a shocker. I’m officially adjusting the release schedule to Sunday/Monday. It has been the standard for quite a while now, and it seems my sundays are always too busy for one reason or the other to really finish the chapter on time.

As for the current chapter, well, Easter happened and so I didn’t finish yet. It’ll be done tomorrow (I’ll be taking the train several times, and I always write well while on the train).

Until then, I wish you all (who celebrate such, whether or not you believe in it) a belated Happy Easter!

More Worldbuilding

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I reorganized the worldbuilding page of “A Dream of Dragons”, splitting Magic and the Gods apart. I also added a short section on Dragons, which will be expanded later on.

Be reminded that the Gods section includes massive spoilers for any future work

B008.1.2 Vra: Anger

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A minus 11 Days

I reached the industrial district almost an hour later, completely out of breath and drenched in sweat.

While I was very – even exceptionally – fit and trained regularly in a variety of sports, long distance running among them, I’d managed to spend myself running without pacing myself. I just couldn’t focus enough to do that. Usually, when I ran, once my body got used to the motions I’d just relax and go into my zone, just… running.

Not this time. I felt like there was a maelstrom of emotions inside me, held back by a knot in my belly that it pressed against and tore at. Most of it was rage, I was sure.

Nonetheless, I arrived. Our gated community was pretty much on the opposite side of the city, or at least it felt like it. It had been built in its spot deliberately, far away from the districts frequented by metahumans. And let’s face it, it was pretty much a law that low-level heroes and villains would throw down in abandoned factories and warehouses.

There were plenty of those in Esperanza, and nowhere more than in the old industrial district. Heavy industry had almost entirely fled the cities due to the Environmental Protection Act (also known as the GreenGreen Act, named after the superhero group that had been its most fervent supporter) of nineteen-eighty-two and now tended to cluster in isolated so-called industrial conclaves, far apart from cities and other protected sites.

Which left more than enough abandoned warehouses and factories behind in the cities, since it wasn’t worth the money to disassemble them or knock them down and build new things in their place. Esperanza had been rebuild almost entirely from the grounds up, after Desolation-in-Light wiped out Los Angeles, but there were a few parts of the old city left, surrounded by the new one. Most people called them ‘the Shades’ (as a contrast to the Brights in New Lennston) and they were the places the scum of the city gathered in.

The old factory I had run to – I’d remembered the address from when a policewoman had told us what had happened – didn’t stand out from the surrounding buildings at all. It was big, it was run-down, it was made of brownish-red bricks with tall, stained black chimneys. I had no idea what had once been produced within, as there was no identifying sign left, save for the street name and number written on a small, rusted metal signpost.

The idea that my sister had died in such a stereotypical place almost made me cry, but I was angry enough to let any tears evaporate before they even left my tear ducts. Taking a deep breath and drawing my wholly inadequate hoodie closer around my body – West Coast or no, November was not the best time to run around in only your underwear, a hoodie and sweatpants. Especially if you were drenched in sweat from stupidly running like a madwoman – I walked through the open gate. It looked like someone had broken it down – probably the police when they’d stormed in to see what was going on.

Despite the late hour, the factory was, well, not well-lit but it was bright enough to see. The back half of the ceiling had collapsed at some point – I couldn’t tell if it was recent or not – and moonlight was flooding in, thanks to the cloudless sky and the current full moon.

There was still some police tape left at the scene, bright yellow that stood out sharply against the black, brown and grey of the factory. No police in sight, though, and why should there be – sure, they hadn’t caught the murderer, but it’d just been a supervillain girl who died. No one important.

I shook my head. No, that wasn’t fair. It probably had nothing to do with the police not wanting to help. She’d died almost a week ago, and whatever clues had been left here were most probably already filed away.

Past the police tape, the front half of the factory still stood, covered in dust and old grime, but apart from that, it looked like it could still light up and start working… though I still had no idea what it was meant to produce.

Gee, talk about avoiding the issue. Get your ass in gear, idiot!

Kicking myself in the ass, I looked through the place… and then I froze.

The chalk outline was still there. As were a lot of dark stains on the floor, many small ones and one really big ones…

Mesmerized, I stepped closer, until I was just a hair’s breadth away from having my shoes on the big stain.

Whoever had died here had bled. A lot.

What a way to go.

Then, I suddenly heard heavy steps behind me, and a gruff voice said: “Hey, miss, you’re not supposed to be here!”

Spinning around, my hand went for my baton – but then I stopped when I recognized the uniform the man was wearing.

In the movies, there’s usually only two kinds of fat cops. The dirty (in more ways than one), donut-and-burger eating asshole or the jolly good-natured veteran who takes it easy and likes all kinds of good food in large quantities (and donuts). You can usually tell them apart by how clean their uniform is, and by just how grossly overweight they are.

This guy… looked like a little bit of both. He was quite a bit taller than me, had at least three hundred pounds more on his body than I did and his uniform was straining quite a bit around his body – his fat was spread relatively evenly across his body, except for his impressive belly. He had very short black hair, barely visible beneath his policeman’s cap, rather attractive black eyes and heavy jowls.

He came to a stop near me, squinting to see me despite the twilight. The way I was standing, the full moon was falling on me from behind, hiding my face in the shade. Not that he’d recognize me, anyway.

“Miss, this is a dangerous part of town, especially for a young lady!” he said, his voice in stark contrast to his appearance. This guy made Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry sound like Micky Mouse on helium. Not to mention that the words did not fit the stereotype. “Miss?” he asked again, when I stayed silent.

I relaxed, letting my arms hang down by my sides loosely. “I’m sorry, officer. I just… wanted to see.”

He relaxed almost imperceptibly once he could see both of my hands. “See what, Miss? This ain’t a place for sight seeing. Nothing good happened here.”

“I know I…” I looked down. I’d taken a step back and was now standing on top of the biggest stain. “I… she died here…”

I looked around my feet. I was standing right where Linda had died. I was standing right where Linda died.

“My… my sister,” I chocked, suddenly unable to breath. “My sister died here… oh God, my sister died here.” I felt tears leak from my eyes as his expression turned from concerned to horrified and pitying.

Not that I cared. “Linda died here.” I tried to breath, but it came in too short. Not enough, I was feeling so dizzy. So I took another. And another, quicker one. Again. And again.

The factory began to spin, the policeman merging with the surroundings in my vision as I stumbled around, unable to keep my footing on the wobbling ground. She died here. She died here and I wasn’t with her!

* * *

I have no recollection of the five or ten minutes that followed my breakdown. I don’t know if I passed out or just repressed them, or whatever. All I know is that, some time later, I was leaning against the hood of a police car, eating an expensive donut with extra thick chocolate frosting, and drinking a cup of steaming hot chocolate.

The donut I get, but where the hell did he get hot chocolate from?

The policeman had the doors of the car open and the cabin light turned on. He was on the other side of the car, keeping it between us. Giving me some sense of privacy, after the utterly humiliating way I’d lost it in front of him. He was on his second donut, with a cup of steaming hot coffee on the side.

After a few more minutes of chewing and drinking, I said, “Thank you for the meal. And… thank you,” without turning around to face him.

“Not much of a meal, Miss Afolayan,” he said in that badass movie-cop voice. I was sure that people who heard him before they saw him imagined some kind of Dirty Harry slash Arnold Schwarzenegger guy.

Of course, what was more interesting was that he knew my name, and even pronounced it right. “H-how do you know who I am?” I asked, still not turning around.

He chuckled sadly. “You said your sister died here. One Linda Afolayan, alias Twitch, member and supposed leader of the StreetBadgers, a superpowered teenage villain team. More of a youth gang, really. Until a week ago, that is.”

I tensed up – I’d never actually heard of Linda’s supervillain name. I didn’t even know what kind of powers she’d had, or who her team had been.

“Do you… do you know more?” I asked, finally turning around to look at him across the hood of his car. I could see his nametag from here. Officer Widard.

I thought I’d heard that name before, somewhere. Maybe he has famous relatives?

He gave me an unbearably sad and compassionate look. “Miss, there’s other problems here. Namely the fact that a minor is out at night, in one of the worst parts of the town. And visiting the scene of a crime, no less.”

“I’m sixteen,” I replied, weakly. As if that meant anything. He ignored it.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take you home, now. Please get into the car, Miss,” he said. He was saying ‘Please’ but there was no doubt he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

I was pretty sure that, if I ran away, he wouldn’t be able to keep up. There was no way he’d shoot me, and by the time he got into the car, I could have run down the street so he’d have to turn it first, or into an alley too narrow to drive into.

But… if I stayed with him, I might just get some information out of him. I really had no idea where to start. I didn’t even know who the StreetBadgers were, or who their members were, or where they could be found.

“Alright,” I said and got into the car. “My name’s Theresa Afolayan, by the way. Please call me Terry.”

He got in once I’d closed the door. His seat had been pushed back as far as possible for him to fit – even disregarding his girth, the guy was about six foot nine tall. “Name’s Tom Widard. A pleasure to meet you, Terry. Now, let’s get you home.”

* * *

He drove away from the old factory my other half had died in. I stayed quiet, for a minute or so, before speaking up.

“Sir, you seem to know a little about… about my sister’s case. No one’s told me anything, so I wanted to ask…”

Without taking his eyes off the street, the officer replied, “Normally, I’d say it’s up to your parents, Terry. But… I guess you deserve to know some. On one condition.”

Please don’t say… “What condition, Sir?”

“You’ll promise you won’t go off do something stupid like what you just did again. This part of the city really ain’t safe, at all.”

I thought it over, looking for loopholes in that promise. “Alright. I promise I won’t repeat those actions, no matter what you tell me,” I replied.

He didn’t seem to pick up on the loophole I’d built into it, or maybe he knew he wouldn’t get anything better out of me.

“Your sister was a member of a rather notorious youth gang. Call themselves the StreetBadgers. Mostly vandalism, graffiti, petty theft and some low-grade fights with other low-powered youth gangs. They all avoid the heroes cause they don’t stand a chance – maybe one in ten of them has anything more than a single Exemplar power, and almost none have any meaningful training,” he explained calmly, stating the facts the same way he’d probably do it if he was briefing a new partner. He sounded positively intimidating.

“Why have I never heard of them?” I asked. “I mean… any of them?”

He shrugged. “They’re really no more a problem than any other youth gang, Miss. Sure, their powers can be one hell of a headache, but even the most outlandish among them can be dealt with by us street cops, if we don’t go in blind – and most of them are low-level bricks, those are not hard to handle for even normal police officers – and they really pale to the real supervillains, so they don’t get much coverage.”

“What about the Badgers’ members? And could one of them have killed Linda?” If they’re that little of a problem, I should be able to pick them off one by one.

He sighed, as if he could read my thoughts. “Don’t even think it, Terry. The StreetBadgers are one of the more competent gangs out there.” But he still continued, laying them out for me: “Four members are left, now that your poor sister is gone. Fulcrum, a low-grade manipulator who can redirect the movement of any single object within his sight; LagForward – name’s supposedly written as one word, with the ‘F’ capitalized, an above-average brick for an Exemplar Tier meta, with the downside that he can assess his strength and speed only in momentary bursts,” he paused, drinking from a cup of coffee. “Foxfire, kind of their mascot. Low-level physique, and she creates this really annoying melon-sized ball of stroboscoping light, throwing it around and tasering anyone she hits. Finally, Razzle, he can create a cloud of sparkling fireworks and all, concealing and misdirecting. Can make it so it doesn’t block her or her friend’s vision.”

He stopped talking to let me digest that, finally driving out of the Shades and into Esperanza proper. The streets finally turned brighter.

So, there were four subjects. But… “You didn’t answer my question. Do you think any one of them is the murderer?” I clenched my fists.

“Nah,” he shook his head, not even thinking about it. “They’re brats, but these gangs are tight, and the StreetBadgers are known for loyalty. Besides, your sister… she was killed with a military-grade rapid-fire shotgun, using modified shells meant for fighting metahumans. No way those kids could have gotten their hands on it, half of them are younger than you are.”

I nodded. “My sister… what do you know about… about her? As a supervillain?” I asked, half afraid of the answer.

It took him some time to answer as we got closer to my home. Then he said, “Her name was Twitch. She was the second most recent recruit of the group, after Razzle. Suspected low-grade physique, but judging from you, that was misapplied. Some kind of danger sense and/or limited precognition. They really started rising up once she joined them, winning fight after fight, always evading us poor cops.”

“Could she fly?” I blurted out. We’d always dreamed of flying.

He threw me a curious glance as he waited for the next green light. “No. Pure Brainpowers, far as we can tell. Of course, it’s not like we know everything…”

I leaned back in my seat, pulling my arms close around myself. Couldn’t she at least get that one thing?

“Why would anyone want to kill her?” I whispered, only half to him. “Do you have any suspects?” I asked, louder.

“I’m sorry, but no,” he said, looking honestly so. “This whole thing… it makes no sense. Whoever killed your sister had professional gear. But what reason would a professional have to kill a teenage gang member?” He ran the fingers of one hand through his messy dark hair (he’d taken his cap off earlier).

“Maybe she found something out she shouldn’t know?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine any real reason, either.

“Maybe.” He fell silent.

“Where do they usually h-” I started asking, hoping I’d get some more information, but he threw me a glance that shut me up.

“No. I won’t tell you where you can find them. I’ll get you home, and hand you over to your parents. You know, the legal, right thing to do. I’m sure they’re worried sick.”

I didn’t answer. I barely knew him, but I could tell he was the kind of guy who wouldn’t budge. The fact that he was more than three times my weight didn’t make it better.

* * *

A minute or so later, the officer was cursing under his breath. There’d been a traffic accident, a truck had apparently spun out of control and was now lying across the street, blocking it entirely. He had to take a way around, but Esperanza, though far better planned than most cities, had a lot of construction and reconstruction, as well as maintenance going on right now, despite the winter weather.

We drove for a few minutes, constantly re-diverted by construction sites and, in one case, a battle between the Six Sentries and some villains I didn’t recognize.

He took a shortcut through the nearby Shades, and that’s when I saw a large piece of graffiti writing, saying ‘StreetBadgers’ in white-black-white lettering.

Take this chance, dummy.

I decided on a course of action. It was a dickmove, especially considering how nice Officer Widard had been, but well… family comes first.

“S-sir?” I asked, trying to sound as unsteady as I could. I’d been silent for a while, just looking out the window, and it wasn’t a stretch to play the role I had in mind.

“Yes, Terry?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the street. Good, he might have noticed something.

“I… ugh, I think that… that donut isn’t agreeing with me… I think I’m gonna throw up,” I said, speaking like I was ill, putting a hand over my mouth. Making a suspicious break in the sentence, to make it look like I was blaming my state on the donut and meaning something else.

Like my sister’s death.

“Wait, I’ll pull to the side. Can you hold it in for a moment?”

“I’ll try…” Gotta love nice people. I held my stomach, curling up on the seat.

He pulled over to the side of the street and got out, circling the car to unlock the door on my side and help me out (he was smart enough not to unlock it first and give me an easy escape).

I let him help me out of the car and stumbled with him in toe away from the car to a trash can, bending over.

“I’m really sorry, Sir,” I apologized, meaning it. Before he could react, I lashed out with my foot, kicking him in the balls.

As he keeled over – and I felt like vomiting for real now, what in God’s name am I thinking? – I bolted, running into an alley that would take me roughly towards the street I saw the graffiti art.

I doubt he’ll be that nice to random teenagers in trouble again.

* * *

I found the graffity again. It had been expertly painted on the front of an old restaurant building. Striped like a badger. How imaginative. Did Linda really hang out with people who do art like this?

It wasn’t bad, it just didn’t look like something really original.

You’re stalling again.

Not that I had any idea how to proceed.

Get off the main street, dummy. The officer might remember this and come to look for you.

I walked around the corner of the building – and finally realized why they called these parts of the city the Shades. I’d read about them, seen reports, but…

Esperanza had been built atop the ruins of Los Angeles. Literally in some cases – a lot of the city was standing on gigantic concrete pillars, or raised parts of the earth that had been moved by Desolation-in-Light. Many of the old parts were constantly in the shadow because of that.

Right now, I was in an alley that would have been jet-black if not for a single, flickering lightbulb over a side entrance.

That graffiti was territorial marking. So their hideout should be close.

I pulled my hood over my head, and went down the alley, looking around for further signs of the StreetBadgers.

* * *

After about half an hour, I knew one thing for sure. I should have brought a torch.

And a map. And a compass. Because I was utterly, completely lost. I could barely see the sky from where I was standing, and it was really miserably cold here.

Shivering, I walked pretty much blindly through the place, until a nearby trashcan tipped over and something flew at me.

I’ll deny it if anyone ever asks, but I shrieked like a little girl when a dark, red-eyed shade bounced at me – and then a pretty big cat with reddish-brown eyes and a jet-black coat of fur smacked into my chest, making me fall back onto my butt.

I looked down at it, feeling slightly silly. But only slightly, because beeing jumped by red-eyed black things in dark alleys was a common element of horror stories nowadays, even more than ever before.

“Hello kittie. Whatever is a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

It really was a pretty cat. He – I just assumed it was a tomcat – was big, weighted about twelve pounds by my estimation and had a long tail and a fluffy, long coat. His eyes were really more brown than red, but still. Damn.

I stroked his fur – it was quite clean and fluffy, and he purred like a starting jet, only softer. “Do you belong to someone, you big cutie?” Checking him over, I found no markings whatsoever.

The tomcat (I checked) flicked his tail and jumped off my lap, turning around then looking back at me. Expectantly.

Wait, is that cat telling me to follow it?

Well, my life was weird enough as it was, anyway. And I had no idea where to go, anyway.

And maybe he belonged to the StreetBadgers. Coincidences happen, right?

I followed him, trying to stick close so as not to lose him in the darkness.

* * *

The cat took me to an old, abandoned parking garage. The large building had seen way better days, and looked rather uninteresting, not to mention uninviting.

But when I followed the tomcat, we passed by a pillar that a stylized badger had been sprayed on. Ohhh. Good kittie.

I followed him, now more carefully. One hand beneath my hoodie, at the baton I’d tucked into the back of my pants.

The tomcat led me to some stairs… and a few trash cans beside them. He jumped onto one and starting looking for food.

Oh. That’s what you wanted.

Still, way useful. I snuck past the cat up the stairs. They were at the center of the parking garage and obviously very old… but there was barely any dust around.

I snuck up the stairs to the next level. Nothing to be seen. Nor on the next one.

Then I heard voices on the third level.

Holding my breath, I snuck to the doorless opening, hiding on one side to glance inside.

There was actually some moonlight here, if barely. There were a lot of crates and other shapes lying around, or piled up. I couldn’t make them all out in the current lighting.

There were also four figures standing in a circle, arguing about something in some Asian language. I had no idea which one it was, though it might have been Japanese (Linda had been way into anime).

I waited as they argued. And somehow, somewhere, my rage from earlier came up again.

These people had taken Linda away. She’d hung out with them, instead of me. Told them of her problems, instead of me. Fought with them, instead of me.

Linda died, and they didn’t save her.

I pulled my baton out and snapped it open. It clicked.

Dammit. The conversation stopped, and the figures – I could just barely make out two boys, a girl and a third, shorter one – turned to look at me. They didn’t call out. They didn’t wait. They started moving immediately. Flickering lights began to form around the shortest one, showing me a boy in his early teens, wearing skater clothes and a magician’s mask. Then the cloud expanded, obscuring my vision of the group. Except for one really buff, tall chinese boy, wearing jeans and a thick vest, as well as army boots. He stomped in my direction.

I could also make out a melon-sized sphere in the cloud of fireworks that was rapidly switching colours.

…

I don’t know why exactly I did it, later. Was I really that angry? That unstable? I should have put my baton away and talked to them. They ought to recognize me. And even if Linda had never told them about me, I did look a lot like her. I should have talked.

Instead I pulled my hood down and attacked them.

…

Not my smartest move.

The Chinese boy – probably LagForward – gave a start when I charged him, but he blocked my strike with a lazy motion.

I pulled my knee up to hit him in the balls, but he just blurred to the side, going super-fast for just a split-second.

The sphere that had been thrown out of the cloud of fireworks missed him by a split-second before hitting me in the gut. Last thing I saw was yellow, then all black.

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Progress Report

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I’m about 50% done with the chapter, and I’ll try to finish it as quickly as I can. Nothing on my schedule today or tomorrow (Monday) to prevent that, so unless there’s some freak occurance, you’ll have a new chapter soonest.

For real this time. Even if I need to shoot caffeine up my veins (I hate coffee. No way I’ll drink that).

B008.1.1 Vra: Anger

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A minus 12 Days

Esperanza City; Four Days after the Hastur Incident

Birds sang, bees buzzed (when they weren’t being eaten by something), cars drove up and down the streets. There was a class of elementary school children passing by the graveyard, loud enough to be heard even over the wall that circled it, and someone somewhere was playing music so loudly that I could hear the words clearly even over here. Slow, slow me down…

The sun shone brightly down on the casket that contained Linda’s body. Or what was left of it. Her blood, on my bones…

I was wearing my funeral dress, the one my parents had bought for me a year ago for Grandpa’s funeral. I’d hated it back then, and I hated it more now. It didn’t help that it was way too tight around my chest for comfort.

Linda was wearing her own version of it inside that damned casket. Luckily for her, it was not too tight around her bust, mostly because her breasts were among the things that had been missing from her body. Shotgun blast from the side, they said. Point-blank range.

I felt the corners of my mouth twitch with the beginnings of a smile, before I ordered the summary execution of all facial muscles involved in that.

Let go, lay to rest.

And this is what’s called being in denial. Was I in denial?

Mostly, I just felt angry. No. I was totally angry. My hands were shaking where I’d clenched them into fists. Fortunately, I’d grown out of the phase where I always kept my fingernails long, so I didn’t tear into my own flesh…

I bit my lip, trying to calm down. Or at least keep up the appearance of being calm. Grieving.

Truth was, I wasn’t sad. I mean, I knew I should. And I felt like being sad, but I wasn’t. My sister hadn’t even managed to get to her seventeenth birthday before she died, and I didn’t even feel sad.

Just angry. Furious.

Bitch. You’re such a bitch, I thought, looking at the casket as the fat priest from our church droned on and on about heavenly grace and God’s plan and forgiveness and shit.

Why forgive her? That was a question that kept pounding my mind. She’d lied to me. She lied to me.

We fall, we fall, we fall to the ground.

My parents were standing to my left, with my brother in between them and holding their hands. I sneaked a glance at them, even though I knew what I’d see: Shame, sadness, disappointment, confusion. Freddy looked lost, his young mind not really able to grasp the situation yet. At least I hoped so.

They looked so small, standing there. The other guests didn’t help – they were watching us, their stares heavy and judgemental. They were all from my parents’ usual circles, and really only attending to express their disapproval, as well as, probably, keep an eye on me.

I hadn’t invited any of my friends, but they’d still come, since their parents were here, too. None of Linda’s friends were here, obviously. At least none of her real friends, as we’d so recently found out. She’d cut ties with her old crowd right around the time when she distanced herself from our family, from me.

No one around here was going to invite her new ‘friends’. And the fact that we didn’t know who they were was only a small part of that. Mostly, it was because they’d gotten her killed.

The priest finished his stupid rant, and they began lowering the casket. Mom broke down, falling onto her knees, sobbing, as dad knelt down to hug her and Freddy.

I just stood there, watching as my twin sister, the supervillain, was lowered into the earth.

And I couldn’t follow her.

Sleep, sleep all night.

* * *

Suddenly, I wasn’t in the graveyard anymore. Or at least, not in the same one. Or perhaps in the same one, only it was different.

The people around me had faded to mere shades, unrecognizable, unimportant but for the glimmer of light each held within themselves.

I looked around myself. The whole graveyard had become little more than a shade of itself, translucent, wispy.

Unreal.

There were stars everywhere. Above and below and around and inside and just plain everywhere.

What…

My thoughts felt like they were moving through some kind of syrup. Utterly useless.

Then, something moved. One of the stars above – or was it below? I couldn’t tell. Weren’t those gravestones upside down before? – it sank down, until it hovered in front of me… flickering, blinking, shining, waxing, waning…

Power…

Was this what gave people power?

Linda saw a star like this, too.

Did I want this power? It pulsed so gently…

Linda accepted it.

So warm… so… warm…

Linda died.

“No,” I said, turning aw-

* * *

I blinked, looking around. The grave had been closed already.

What…? What happened?

I’d seen something… hadn’t I?

Just… you’re just not all there, silly.

What had I seen?

I shook my head, trying to recall the memory, but it simply wasn’t there. And then it was time to follow my parents to our car and get home.

* * *

Dad parked our car in the driveway to our home in the Oak Leaf community. The house was as sparkly clean as ever (cleaning services are good for that), but that only made looking at it worse.

No home should look this sparkling clean after someone who used to live in it died.

I was sitting in the back with Freddy, who’d all but collapsed against me, hugging me. I didn’t think he really understood what was happening. He was just five, after all.

We left the car and I all but carried him out and towards the door, as my father unlocked it and stepped in. I could already hear the other cars of friends and family approaching. Soon, our house would be swarming with them. Giving condolences that weren’t about Linda dying, but about her being a meta. A supervillain.

My parents got in and I followed with Freddy. Mom could barely stand on her own, her crisp black dress dirty at the knees from when she’d gone down in front of the grave, and Dad took her up to their room, leaving me with the small one.

While the young, they wait alone.

Fucking song. Stuck in my head now.

“Terry? Why’s everyone so strange?” Freddy asked. He looked up at me with muddy brown-gold eyes.

So tired. He looks so tired.

“Because… because Linda w-” I sniffled not knowing what to say. How to say it. How do you explain to a five-year-old that his older sister is dead, and that she was a supervillain to boot?

“Because your sister went away, son,” Dad suddenly said as he came back down the stairs, still in his expensive black suit. It was the same one he’d worn to grandpa’s funeral, and unlike my dress, it still fit him perfectly. He picked Freddy up as if he weighted less than a feather. Considering that my dad was tall and broad enough to just so fit through our door, and it was all muscle, that wasn’t a surprise. “C’mon, mommy needs you to hug her a lot. You gonna do that for me, big man?” he asked in his baby talk voice. Freddy nodded, still confused, and I relaxed. Now I wouldn’t have to be the one to try and explain it to him.

I looked up to find Dad looking at me with worried eyes. They were more amber-coloured than Freddy’s, who took after mom. Me and Linda, we’d shared his bright eyes. Now only me. “Do you want to join us, sweetheart?”

“No!” I replied immediately. There were few things right now that I wanted less than to listen to them explaining to Freddy that Linda was dead. “No,” I repeated, more subdued. “I… I need some time alone. If that’s alright.” I looked down again, at my feet.

These shoes look horrible on me.

“Alright. But if you need anything, anything, just say so, alright?”

I nodded, just to get him to leave me alone. Then I went up to my own room, stopping to look at the three large-size posters on the wall next to the stairs. The first one depicted a white rose on a golden background, with the words We must stand together! underneath. Pretty bland and innocuous. The second one depicted a blue cross on white ground, with the words Say NO to the False Idols!. But the last one was the kicker, being another white rose on gold background, but with the words Humans MUST come first! I tried to imagine how Linda must have felt, walking by these posters every day until she ran away. How long had she had her powers, anyway? Did she start to act weird after getting them, or did she get them after things changed?

It was no great mystery why Linda hadn’t told our parents about her powers. They spouted anti-metahuman propaganda every day, and all their friends – who had also been keeping an eye on me during the burial – were the same.

What baffled me – enraged me – hurt me was that she hadn’t told me.

We were supposed to be one soul in two bodies, weren’t we?

I continued up to our – no, my – room, closing and locking the door behind me. I deliberately did not look at Linda’s half to the left, but instead focused on my own. The yellow paint on the wall. The posters of my favourite tv shows (Sherlock, the Mentalist and Elementary) and my favourite music act (Owl City). The big mirror on the wall between my bed and my wardrobe.

Taking a few steps in, I started taking off the dress… but then I heard a tearing sound and looked down to see a long, ugly tear on the sleeve, near my shoulder.

“Damn it!” I cursed. It was old, but it had been really expensive! “Goddamnit!”

My vision got blurry, and before I knew it, I’d simply torn the sleeve off. “Fuck!” I tore off the other, then I grabbed it by the collar.

Less than a minute later, I was down to my underwear and my vision was clear again. At some point, I’d fallen down onto my knees, and turning right, I could see Linda kneel in the same position on her half of the room (blue paint, lots of anime posters and a framed pressed rose), mostly naked and with a blotchy, tear-stained face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked her. “I know mom and dad would have reacted badly, but why didn’t you trust me?”

Someone knocked on the door. “Sweetheart?” It was Dad. “Are you alright? We heard a thump.”

What a stupid question. “It’s… it’s alright, daddy. Just need some time for myself!”

“Alright… we’re all in the living room now. You can join us whenever you want.” ‘We’ meaning that your pals from Humanity First! are here.

There wasn’t really anyone I wanted to see less right now, I thought.

I heard him walk down the stairs.

Then I got up myself and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was messy – I’d torn the knot I had it in open, and now it fell down to my shoulder blades in black waves. I really didn’t look much like my sister right now – I had more muscle tone than she’d ever had, and unlike her, I didn’t always make sure to straighten my hair out. Plus, I think my skin was actually a few shades darker than hers had been, mostly due to all the stuff I did outside. Though I guess most would simply describe us both as ‘black’ and be done with it.

And yet I couldn’t shake the impression that it was my sister who was looking out at me from the mirror.

Because why should I look so guilty?

* * *

An hour later, dad called me down to dinner. I put on a pair of black sweatpants and a grey-blue hoodie and went down to the dining room.

When I saw our guests, I almost turned around and left again.

Richard Svenson was sitting at the table in all his blond-haired and blue-eyed glory. He was wearing a dark blue three-piece suit and was wearing it well, despite being in his mid-forties. For the man who was the head chairman of Humanity First!, he looked way too much like one of the metahumans he was campaigning against.

He looked up just as I entered, though, and rose with a perfect, white-toothed smile. Though he also displayed the perfect percentage of sadness and sympathy, as well. “Theresa, my dear, I am so sorry for your loss!” he said with that annoyingly pleasant voice of his, grabbing my right hand with both of his, holding it gently. “I wanted to talk to you at the burial, but I thought it best not to disturb you then – but if you need anything, any help, just say so. We’re there for you.”

Meaning, you’d like me to join H-One? Thanks, but no thanks.

“That’s very kind of you, Sir. But right now, I just want to be left alone,” I replied, trying to suppress the creepy feeling he always caused. Especially right now, when he was touching me. “It’s… a lot to get through.”

He nodded, somehow managing to look honestly understanding, and finally let go of my hand, sitting back down at the table. I looked around to find my dad at the table opposite of Svenson. Mom was arranging some snacks on a platter, though her hands were shaking. I couldn’t see her face, but I was sure she was crying.

Svenson had brought his usual gorillas along (I never could remember their names), as well as his secretary, a trim, if short hispanic woman in a business dress (whose name I couldn’t remember, either). I knew that, if he was here, the house was probably under heavy surveillance both by his organization’s personal security force and local police – there’d been more than one attack on him by supervillains, as well as by fanatic metahuman worshippers (mostly the True Believers – ever since his speech against the Protegé a few years ago, he’d topped their shit list and was still up there, uncontested).

I sat down next to dad and turned to him: “Where’s Freddy?”

“He’s… asleep. We tried to explain to him what happened – well, to explain that Linda isn’t coming back – but I don’t think he really got it. He just got agitated and had one of his fits, then he fell asleep,” he replied, not looking up from his fingers, which he had folded and laid down on the table to stare at.

“Oh.” I looked away. As if we didn’t have enough to be sad about.

* * *

Dinner itself was a pain. Mom was on the verge of another meltdown, but was trying to keep it together. Dad seemed more ashamed than sad, at least in front of Svenson. And Svenson… Svenson was trying to comfort them (and me) and it probably would’ve worked well (he really had a silver tongue) if it wasn’t for me feeling so… angry. All I could think about was that this man had probably been a big reason why my sister had turned away from us. If not the main reason.

You’re still a bitch, though. You could at least have come to me. One soul, two bodies.

I noticed that everyone was staring at me. Then I realized that I’d stood up pretty abruptly. I looked around, for just a moment, then I said: “Excuse me, I need a moment.”

Without waiting for anyone to respond, I stormed out of the kitchen… but where was I going? I went up to my room out of sheer reflex, opening the door before I had even made a conscious decision.

Why didn’t you tell me?

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” I screamed at the mirror. My vision got blurry for a moment, but I wiped my eyes dry and forced the tears down before I really started crying. Honestly.

Suddenly, my eyes fell on an item visible in the mirror. It was unthinkable… it had been our deal… but… she was dead…

I turned around and walked to her desk, picking the small book up with a shaking hand. Her diary. We each had one, and it was the only thing we hadn’t shared… before she stopped sharing at all.

Opening it, I had to blink another squall of tears away as I saw her cramped, tight writing. She’d always been good at putting as much text on one page as others put on two or three (I was no better. Our teachers hate us).

Maybe…

I skipped ahead to the last few pages, to see if there was any…

No. The last entry I could find had been written exactly one day before I’d noticed her acting strange. She’d been looking forward to going out with her friends to watch the newest Major Lightning movie.

Anna had said they’d split after the movie, Linda had told her she was going straight back home… But I could remember that she’d been late that night, I’d woken up when she’d snuck back in at three in the morning… and the next morning, she wouldn’t tell my parents where she’d been so late…

And she hadn’t told me, either.

Suddenly, I felt energy return to my thoughts. It was like I was waking up… I knew what to do. Linda hadn’t told me anything. She’d kept it all a secret.

So get up, shake the rust.

So I would have to find out myself.

* * *

Once I’d made my decision, I got myself ready. I put on a pair of black cycling shorts, one of my newest sports bras (I’d had a growth spurt since hitting sixteen and most of my clothes were all new now – I’d grown three whole inches and two bust sizes) under my current attire. I hung my wallet on a string around my neck, put the collapsible baton dad had bought me when I turned sixteen into the inside pocket of my blue coat and put that one on, too.

I left my room and turned to the stairs… but I really should check up on Freddy, first. So I went to his room. It wasn’t very dark inside, because Freddy had pretty much covered every available inch of his walls and ceiling with stars of all colours drawn in glow-in-the-dark paint. He’d once told me that he tried to make them look like what he saw every time he had a fit.

Sneaking on tip-toes to his bed, I knelt down, brushing my hand over his sleeping face. He looked so small, even for a boy of five years. Curse those fits of his. He didn’t eat right, because his tastes changed with every fit he had, among other things.

Since he was asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him (he slept rarely enough), I just bent over him and kissed him on his cheek. He stirred, but didn’t wake up, and I left the room again.

Outside, I had to stop and take a deep breath again. Then another. And another. Until I’d calmed down – a little. Then I went down to get my shoes and leave.

* * *

“Terry, are you alright!?”

Damn.

I turned just as I came down the stairs to see dad standing there, looking worried.

“I’m… better,” I said, hoping to get away quickly.

“Then you can join us at the table again.” Dratz. “Come, your mother is worried enough as it is.” Double dratz. Now I can’t just walk away.

I followed him back into the dining room and sat down.

Mom was looking even worse than before, her eyes blotchy from crying, her dark cheeks glistening with tears, while Svenson was talking to her in an almost-whisper.

Dad wasn’t looking much better, if in a different way. He looked composed, but I knew that he hadn’t had any grey hairs a week ago, and now he had grey streaks in his close-cropped hair, contrasting starkly with his black skin and hair. He also had more wrinkles around his eyes than ever.

Once I’d sat down, I tried to ignore the conversation that started up, but that wasn’t really possible.

“You couldn’t have known, Fiena, we still haven’t found a way to detect this deviancy,” said Svenson. “If there are no uncontrolled aspects to the symptoms, or physical mutations, detecting these poor souls is all but impossible, unless they openly use their powers.”

Why is that important?

“But don’t worry about your other children – whatever ailment causes this madness, it doesn’t seem to be contagious, unless someone spends a lot of time around a carrier – and neither Terry nor Freddy did, since poor Linda was infected!”

“B-b-but how did Linda… how… she never had anything to do with…” Mother choked, sobbing as Dad held one of her hands and Svenson another.

“We don’t know. It happens, sometimes, and there’s nothing anyone could have done to prevent it. Our scientists are labouring tirelessly for a cure, or at least an inoculation against it, but until we have some kind of breakthrough in even detecting the vectors, all we can do is try and avoid the usual triggers, as well as contact to anyone who’s already expressing symptoms. Which this beautiful little community we live in already does, as well as it is pos-“

“Oh, this is just ridiculous!” I shouted, slamming both fists onto the table. Every but Svenson flinched as the dishes jumped into the air for a moment. “My sister was murdered and all you care about is making sure no one else manifests!?” I glared at my father, my mother and then at Svenson, who had remained calm, unlike his gorillas, who’d almost gone for their weapons. I guess I’m a threat factor now. “Why doesn’t anyone seem to care about who murdered her?“

“Terry, please, calm yourself. It’s not a good thing to grow so uncontrolled in your current situati-” he began, but I cut him off the moment he started talking about me triggering again.

“I don’t fucking care about that! Why is it so important that Linda got powers? Why isn’t it important that she DIED!?”

He sighed, as if he was talking to a small child, and replied: “Finding her murderer is out of our hands, my dear. All we can do is do our best to prevent anyone else – especially you or your poor brother – from going down the same doomed road.”

“Why would getting superpowers change anything!? You’re talking like they’re the end-all be-all evil that caused all of this!”

Again, that maddening sigh. “My dear, ever since metahumans appeared, history has taken a turn for the worst – just look at the world war that is brewing, all over a broken boy with a god complex!”

I wasn’t exactly a fan of the Protegé, or rather his followers (I’d never met the guy himself), but even I could tell that this was stupid. It had always been the people around the Protegé that had screwed things up. But he wasn’t going to accept an argument like that.

“Just because someone gets powers doesn’t mean that they’re gonna be more evil than others! Linda didn’t die because of her powers, she died because someone took a shotgun and blew her full of holes!”

Mom choked, wailed and buried her face in her hands, all but collapsing on the table. Dad sank to his knees next to her, to calm her, while Svenson kept looking at me with those damned sympathetic eyes.

“Terry, I’m not saying that metahumans are automatically evil… but they have far more potential for evil, and that’s why we need to be careful that there are no new ones, and somehow seperate the existing from the normal, healthy, sane population. Just look at-“

“I know about DiL and the Six – who are apparently quite finished now – but-“

“You know about them, but they are hardly the worst examples,” he said.

Now that gave me pause. “What the fuck?”

“Language, young lady,” he rebuked me. “And really, people like the Six or Desolation-in-Light or the Caliphate were probably going to be monsters anyway – Atrocity was a serial killer long before she got her powers, and let’s not even get started on the Caliphate and their so-called ‘prophets’ – and Weisswald, as monstrous as he was, would never have been half as bad without being enabled by the Nazis and other supporters – but what we are really concerned about are people like Caliban, people who turn to evil out of nowhere due to random negative experiences, if even that.”

“What… what do you mean?” I asked. It might have been because of how tiring the day had been already, but I felt so slow.

“You’re too young to remember, but there have been far greater monsters than the Six, far more horrific evils than Desolation-in-Light. The Godking of Mars, who staged a global invasion and war by himself. You’re too young to remember most of these, but to us a little or a lot older, names like Nightmare Sun, Dread Roger, the Queen Bee or Hannibal Storm still cause shivers just by being mentioned.” He paused for effect, taking a deep breath. I knew what was coming next, it was his biggest argument, his personal story, but I still listened with bated breath. “You weren’t here, fortunately, but I still remember the terror that ruled, when the Living Trinity took over the entire San Francisco area. Three girls, all just two years younger than you, all daughters of our so-called protectors, the superheroes of our land, all manifested due to the most trivial reasons, and it took nearly two years until they were finally taken down.”

He stopped again, letting that sink in. We’d all heard the stories, and there were still some reminders left to see, especially when one visited San Francisco. I’d only ever seen pictures of the Living Trinity, but… brrr.

“The problem is that, normally, even the most evil person needs an enormous support structure, cunning and luck to perpetrate evil on a large scale. Throw in metahumans, and suddenly you get newborn babies who wipe out Los Angeles, or three teenagers that can break reality, or a careless little boy who can make it seem like he’s bringing back the dead. And then, which is maybe worse, you have the superheroes-” He spat the word out like a curse. “-who encourage children to put on costumes and go out to fight in the streets, until they get killed, like your poor, lost sister.”

…

I didn’t really know how to refute that.

“All we can do is make sure that you and your brother don’t manifest too, and if you do, we’ll do our best to heal you, of course.”

“It’s not curable,” I replied. “And besides, what if powers could heal Freddy, make it so he wasn’t having those fits an-“

Svenson snorted derisively. “Honestly, my dear, after what you went through, I’d think you’d know that he’s better off with fits than superp-“

I took my cup and threw the coffee in his face. “Fuck you!” I screamed, as he squinted his eyes while my parents looked aghast. He took a handkerchief and began wiping his face, still calm.

“My sister is dead and you try to tell my parents that they couldn’t have known? Linda didn’t tell them precisely because people like you hang around with them! She could still be alive, if she’d felt safe enough to confide in her own family! And now you tell me that my little brother is better off sick than having powers!?” I glared at my parents. “And you don’t throw him out of the house at that!? Well, I’m not staying if he is, and God knows I have better things to do anyway!”

“Terry, wait, what a-” Dad began, but I just jumped up and ran to put on my shoes, then left out the door as he stormed after me, calling my name. But all those hours on the track and in the gym paid off and I was already halfway down the street by the time he reached the front porch.

I just ran to the gates that led to Esperanza City, fuming with anger.

Fuck them all.

I was going to find out who killed my sister. And I was going to find out who had been helping my sister, too. I was going to get them all for taking her away from me.

So first, I needed to go to where my sister had died.

I ran through the cold night towards the industrial district.

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Really Sorry

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I’m really sorry, but I’m moving from my flat this week, and stuff got a little confusing (read: total clusterfuck), so my writing got a stiff kick in the balls

There WILL be a chapter this sunday at the latest, but I can’t promise any more right now

Preview of B008.1 Vra: Anger

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Progress Report

A minus 12 Days

Esperanza City; Four Days after the Hastur Incident in New Lennston

Birds sang, bees buzzed (when they weren’t being eaten by something), cars drove up and down the streets. There was a class of elementary school children passing by the graveyard, loud enough to be heard even over the wall that circled it, and someone somewhere was playing music so loudly that I could hear the words clearly even over here. Slow, slow me down…

The sun shone brightly down on the casket that contained Linda’s body. Or what was left of it. Her blood, on my bones…

I was wearing my funeral dress, the one my parents had bought for me a year ago for Grandpa’s funeral. I’d hated it back then, and I hated it more now. It didn’t help that it was way too tight around my chest for comfort.

Linda was wearing her own version of it inside that damned casket. Luckily for her, it was not too tight around her bust, mostly because her breasts were among the things that had been missing from her body. Shotgun blast from the side, they said. Point-blank range.

I felt the corners of my mouth twitch with the beginnings of a smile, before I ordered the summary execution of all facial muscles involved in that. Let go, lay to rest.

And this is what’s called being in denial. Was I in denial?

Mostly, I just felt angry. No. I was totally angry. My hands were shaking where I’d clenched them into fists. Fortunately, I’d grown out of the phase where I always kept my fingernails long, so I didn’t tear into my own flesh…

I bit my lip, trying to calm down. Or at least keep up the appearance of being calm. Grieving.

Truth was, I wasn’t sad. I mean, I knew I should. And I felt like being sad, but I wasn’t.

Just angry. Furious.

Bitch. You’re such a bitch, I thought, looking at the casket as the fat priest from our church droned on and on about heavenly grace and God’s plan and forgiveness and shit.

Why forgive her? That was a question that kept pounding my mind. She’d lied to me. She lied to me.

We fall, we fall, we fall to the ground.

My parents were standing to my left, with my brother in between them and holding their hands. I sneaked a glance at them, even though I knew what I’d see: Shame, sadness, disappointment, confusion. Freddy looked lost, his young mind not really able to grasp the situation yet. At least I hoped so.

They looked so small, standing there. The other guests didn’t help – they were watching us, their stares heavy and judgemental. They were all from my parents’ usual circles, and really only attending to express their disapproval, as well as, probably, keep an eye on me.

I hadn’t invited any of my friends, but they’d still come, since their parents were here, too. None of Linda’s friends were here, obviously. At least none of her real friends, as we’d so recently found out. She’d cut ties with her old crowd right around the time when she distanced herself from our family, from me.

No one around here was going to invite her new ‘friends’. And the fact that we didn’t know who they were was only a small part of that. Mostly, it was because they’d gotten her killed.

The priest finished his stupid rant, and they began lowering the casket. Mom broke down, falling onto her knees, sobbing, as dad knelt down to hug her and Freddy.

I just stood there, watching as my twin sister, the supervillain, was lowered into the earth.

And I couldn’t follow her.

Sleep, sleep all night.

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Progress Report

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the Vra arc is under heavy construction. unfortunately, since I’m in greece and catching up with family and stuff right now, I haven’t had as much time to work on it as I like.

Still, I’ve finished the outlines for all the chapters and am now working on the first one. looking good already, but due to the nature of this particular arc, work is going slower than it normally would after finishing the outline.

The current state is:

  • B008.1 Vra: Anger (about 20% complete)
  • B008.2 Vra: Bargaining
  • B008.3 Vra: Denial
  • B008.4 Vra: Depression
  • B008.5 Vra: Acceptance

As you can see, I’ve upgraded this story to a main arc, instead of an interlude arc. That’s because more and more main storyline stuff kept sneaking into it, until I decided to just drop the pretense and do an all out arc.

But since it has to come in those five chapters to fit the theme I’m following, each chapter will probably be around 7000+ words, and so it’s taking more time than usual.

On the other hand, I’m quite confident that this one can turn out to be my best work yet, so look forward to it!

Here’s a preview.

Sincerely,

Tieshaunn

B007.e Sweet Dreams (Donation Bonus)

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Rage born of Fear

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t break your bloody arms an’ legs and lock you up in your room,” said Amy quite calmly. It was quite clear, though, that she was very nearly boiling over with rage.

“Um… because you love me?” Basil replied as she kept him pressed flat against the ceiling.

“Not sufficient, I’m afraid,” she replied, and he felt her power start to tug and press against his arms and legs.

He was not worried that she would hurt him, not even by accident, but he did not put it beneath her to lock him up without a thing to use his power on. “Um, because I would just make prosthetics? I mean, Hastur and her cronies broke nearly every bone in my body and I still killed half of th-“

Wrong thing to say. A vein appeared on Amy’s forehead, pulsing angrily. “She. Did. What?!”

“Uh, maybe you could put me down and I could tell you what happened to me today?” he asked, hoping to somehow avert a total freakout (not a good idea when someone has purely mental powers).

Amy took a deep, slow breath, regaining her composure – a little. The pressure on his limbs vanished and he flew through the hallway and into the living room, where he was unceremoniously dropped onto the floor in front of Amy’s favourite love seat.

She came in and sat down, adjusting her bathrobe before she put one leg over the other and stared down at him. “Talk.”

* * *

Love and Words and…

Ten Minutes later…

“You… you…” Amy put her left hand to the bridge of her nose, kneading it as she closed her eyes. Trying to find her center before she crushed something in the house with ten tons of force.

When she opened her eyes again, Basil was still sitting in front of her on the floor, looking up with hopeful, big eyes… but she knew that trick already, and it wasn’t going to work on her this time.

“Basil… remember the discussion we had after you fought the Spiteborn?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. She succeeded, mostly. At least she thought she did, but Basil flinched, though that may have been due to her words, not her voice.

She did not like making Basil flinch from her. For whatever reason.

“Yeah… I do,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

“I believe I made it clear that you were not to fight, or in any way engage, an S-Class threat, no matter the reason!” She immediately berated herself for screaming at Basil. That shouldn’t be happening.

He tried to take it with humor, which wasn’t a good idea at all. “Well, considering that you are an S-Class threat, wouldn’t that mean breaking off all con-“

“The difference between me and other S-Classes is that I would NEVER hurt you!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as she lunged forward, grabbing him by his collar and lifting him up as easily as a ragdoll. You bloody idiot, why won’t you understand!?, she screamed into his mind as her eyes turned purple. You could have died today in a dozen different bloody ways! You could have been beaten to death! You could have been impaled, blown to pieces, ripped apart! You could have been transformed, then died along with the rest of them when Hastur died and her power failed to support her toys! You could have left me alone!

Basil’s eyes widened as she projected all her misery into his mind, her fear and –

She cut off the connection before it would hurt him, gently putting him down. “You could’ve died,” she said as she felt something moist and warm on her cheeks. “You could’ve been gone.”

“So could you,” he replied, looking seriously into her eyes. His voice fell down to a whisper. “You fought Desolation-in-Light, who is a million times more powerful than Hastur could ever be. You have fought her several times now, and I have never protested, because I knew you felt like you had to.”

“Oh Basil,” she said, realizing how he must have felt. “There’s a difference, little brother. I’m quite a bit more powerful than you, my body is way tougher, I have low-level regeneration and I don’t bloody well get into close combat with her or anyone close to my weight class!“

He shook his head, as if to say that it didn’t make a difference, and she prepared a retort, but then she felt… she felt him notice something that shocked him, or rather surprised him.

“Amy,” he said, his eyes growing inquisitive. “You… you just spoke in a British accent… I think even a London accent! You’ve never done that before!”

That got her out of her current state of mind, as she went over what she’d said earlier. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. How come, I’ve never even been in London,” she mused, tapping her chin. Then she shook her head, regaining her focus. “Don’t try to change the subject now, little-“

“No, Amy, this is important!” he cut her off again, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Think. Where did you get that accent from?”

She did, thinking things through… he was so insistent, suddenly… “I don’t know, it just… it just slipped out,” she replied. “I’m pretty sure that has never happened before.”

Letting go of her arms, he turned around and took a few steps away from her, running his fingers through his hair (it had grown a bit, she noticed, and remembered that it had been a while since she’d cut his hair).

But that was not what was worrying her right now. “Basil? Basil, what is going on? Why is this so important?” she asked.

He turned back around to her. “Amy, I need an honest answer from you – on a possibly very delicate matter,” he said. “Will you promise me to say the truth?”

Now she felt hurt. “Basil, I wouldn’t lie to you!” she replied, feeling the anger rising again.

Nodding as if he’d expected that answer, he asked: “Do you know someone named Macia-“

* * *

Words unspoken, Thoughts unthought

“What were we talking about just now?” asked Amy as she found herself sitting in her loveseat again. When had she sat down? And why was Basil on the floor, looking rumpled?

“I do not… I think I was telling you how worried I was about you fighting Desolation-in-Light… did you tell me what happened?” he asked.

I… my memory jumped again, I… But her concern over that was so hard to hold on to, so she focused on the easier territory of answering his question. “I didn’t… but I guess I should, shouldn’t I?”

He nodded.

“Well, it turns out… and this is strictly between us, ’cause I’m not supposed to tell anyone yet… but it seems DiL attacked another location in between her attack on Okinawa and Kansas City.”

“Huh? Where?” he asked. Surely, an attack would have been reported?

“Well… she attacked Osaka… while the Savage Six were holding it in Heretic’s sealed dimension.”

That stunned him. “She can get in there!? What the hell happened? I assume they bailed?”

She shook her head. “They either didn’t want to or couldn’t, once her Desolation Field spread throughout the pocket dimension. Long story short, she engaged Heretic and eyewitnesses – what few remain – report consistently that he was completely destroyed. Every sphere, every rod, she annihilated it all.”

His mouth fell open. “Heretic is… dead? Are you sure?”

Shaking her head, she replied: “There’s no being sure… but his pocket dimension collapsed and expelled the entire city of Osaka and whoever was still alive, as well as the Six’ base of operations and what remained of their minions. Eyewitness reports put the collapse at the same time at which the last bit of Heretic was destroyed, and there were a few sightings of the remaining four members fleeing in the real world.”

“Holy… I mean, hell…” He put his hands to his head, unsure of how to react. She knew how he felt.

Could this be it?, she was asking herself, and she didn’t need telepathy to tell that he was having the same thought. Could this be the end of the Six? Could Desolation-in-Light have finally done something good for the world?

“So… the Six are on the run… that is good… but what does that have to do with her attack on Kansas?”

“Well… she didn’t harden her Desolation Field,” she said, returning to her original point. “She… she mimicked Heretic, displacing the entire space within her field into another dimension, completely cutting us off from the real world.”

“No. Way. Desolation-in-Light… learns? That does not happen!”

She shrugged. “Well, we always had suspicions that she wasn’t as… simple-minded as most believe, so I guess…”

“No, you do not get it! She has been active for more than twenty-six years now, and she has never, ever varied her modus operandi, apart from starting to employ her Desolation Field since her third recorded appearance!”

“But she did. But there might be an upside to it,” she tried to calm him down.

“Huh? What could pos-” He stopped, thinking it over, and she could practically see him arrive to the right conclusion. “If the site of her attack was cut off from the real world… then there might not be any far-reaching after-effects, since her power wouldn’t have reached beyond the city!”

“As far as we can tell, damage was contained within the battleground… reinforcements were cut off, but it seems that ‘only’ Kansas City, or rather an area about four square miles across, was devastated,” she explained with a smile. “We still got our Superbrains watching the place, calculating possibilities and all, but it seems like we’re finally getting kind of a break with her.”

He smiled back, and they both relaxed, their earlier fight nearly completely forgotten.

After a minute, Basil slid up to her and hugged her waist. “I am glad you are safe, sister.”

“And I’m glad you’re safe, too. Now, let’s both go to bed, we’ve had a stressful day, each of us.”

* * *

Lust and Love (and Popcorn)

She’d taken Basil up and kissed him goodnight before he went into the bathroom, and she went to her own bedroom to dry her hair and get ready for bed. By the time she’d finished her hair and put on her nightgown, he was already in bed, half asleep.

Smiling to herself, she laid down on her bed, relaxed and… heard someone knock on his bedroom window.

Snapping back up, she sent her sight and hearing out into his room, expecting to see an attacker or a robber or someone else she’d need to quickly remove and brutally murder out of sight of Basil… but only found a girl in a golden armour she could not look into.

The armour was too thin, too skintight and detailed to be real, and she got ready to blast her away… but Basil looked through the window, gave a start and hurried to open it and let her in before turning on the light in his room.

What the hell?

Wait, of course! His girlfriend had manifested. Her sleepy brain supplied the details.

My my, he didn’t mention that she ended up creating a drop-dead gorgeous bombshell.

Now curious, she watched as the girl leapt in, her helmet vanishing to reveal rich dark red curls, bright green eyes and red lips she mashed onto Basil’s as she caught him in a hug.

This promises to be interesting, she thought as she watched her boots vanish before she touched the floor of the room. Sneaking out of her room (not hard to do when you can just float out) by returning her sight to herself and keeping only her hearing with them, she eavesdropped on the two as they greeted each other and got to the serious business of some more – and very heated – kissing (and quite a bit of groping on her part).

Reaching the kitchen, she took out a pan and started to make some buttered popcorn, returning her sight to the room as soon as she could.

“I’ve missed you,” Prisca said, her face mere inches away from Basil’s.

He chuckled, rubbing his nose against hers.

Hey, that’s supposed to be just between you and me!

“It’s been just a few hours. And don’t you need to recharge your power?”

Oh, interesting. He didn’t note any limitations before.

Prisca shrugged a little. “As far as I can tell… I need to be awake twice as long as I want to use my power. I spent the last four hours awake, so I’d have two hours now for… this…” And her armour melted away, leaving only smooth, supple flesh as she slid (literally slid) backwards, giving Basil (and Amy) a nice view.

Yummy.

Basil seemed to agree, unable to tear his eyes off of her. He swallowed drily. “Um… I guess you… ah.”

Oh God, he’s so adorable, Amy thought as she snapped her sight between Basil’s room and the kitchen, buttering the popcorn just a little before glazing it in honey. She almost considered not being a peeping tom when her little brother lost his virginity. She wondered who was going to-

“I want you to have sex with me. A lot.”

Ah. Well, she’s nicely forward. Then again, she probably knows you need to, with Basil. He can be a little slow.

“I, uh, I see,” said slow person managed to say, still fighting to tear his eyes off her magnificent rack.

“Enough talk, let’s get to the fun part!” she said, grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hug and the kind of kiss Amy had just recently shared with Lamarr… though this one had far less skill and far more… fire involved.

It took them nearly three minutes to part their lips, and by the time they did, their faces were flushed and they were both breathing heavily (even though she could not possibly feel tired already). Their eyes were dilated, too.

“Let’s get you out of these stupid pajamas and get to some f-“

“No,” Basil suddenly said, his face growing serious as he put her at arms length… though his hands remained on her shoulders.

“What?”

What?

He looked at her with something like… sadness in his eyes. “Prisca, love, how do you feel?”

She blinked, her mouth open as she tried to switch mental tracks. “I feel… great. I mean, I’ve never felt this good and I’m whole again and strong and healthy and I can really feel you and why in God’s name are you not in bed with me having sex already!?”

Smiling sadly, he said: “Look, I am not exactly an expert when it comes to people-“

Ain’t that the truth, Amy thought as she put the popcorn into a large bowl, still hoping for some entertainment. Some more entertainment, because this was already promising to turn into one hell of a show, with or without sex.

“-but even I can tell that you are… that you are quite literally high on your power right now.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” Prisca asked in an indignant voice, trying to wiggle out of his grip and get closer to him – but though she was quite obviously physically superior to him, he evaded her easily by taking an almost dance-like step around her, so their positions only reversed.

“Because sleeping with you now, when you are for all intents and purposes intoxicated would be a real sleazebag move… and we both deserve better than that.”

Oh God, is he seriously letting morals get in the way of teenage love sex? Perhaps she should nudge him in the right direction? No. Don’t even think about that. You swore to yourself that you’d never do that to Basil, whatever the reason.

“Basil, that’s stupid, I might be a little euphoric – big surprise! – but that doesn’t mean I’m not in control or anything!”

“Can you look me in the eyes and say honestly that you would even have considered just getting into my room at this time and jumping my bones before getting your power – if you had been physically capable of it?”

“Look, I’m just trying to get the most out of my new body, and you’re a big part of that!”

“Prisca, I have known you for months, and I am telling you – you are not acting like yourself right now.”

“Well, big fucking surprise, I just cut out my own eyes hours ago, got superpowers, fought a giant monster made of shit, helped take down an insane teenage monster girl-“

“And you expect me to believe that you are not in the least bit influenced by those events? Look, Prisca, I really, really want to… to make love to you… but right now, it would just be sex. And probably not the good kind, either, because neither of us has any idea what to do, I am tired and you are probably not yet in full control of your b-“

“GOOD GOD BASIL, why won’t you just fuck me?!” she shouted at him. “It’s sweet that you’re so concerned about morals and doing it right the first time, but I want it now and you’re seriously pissing me off right now!”

He actually seemed to relax when she said that. “I can live with that. Because tomorrow, or maybe the day after tomorrow, you might hold it against me if I took advantage of you here, or if we did it and it turned out wrong in any way, we might both hold it against each other for a long time… maybe forever. I would rather live with your anger now than with th-“

“For the love of FUCK, could you stop being so rational and considerate and shit and just fuck me!? Why are you even thinking about it so much!?”

Yeah, why aren’t you just having fun with the super-beautiful sexbomb who’s throwing herself at you?

Basil looked sadly at her. “Look, thinking is pretty much my superpower, even if it is usually limited to technical stuff. And besides, there is another reason why I… why I want to wait. Until we are both ready.”

“Oh? Do tell, and it better be good!” she said as she kept standing in front of him, stark naked.

“I would much rather… have our first time with your real body, after I have hea-“

“This is my real body, Basil!” she screeched, her composure blowing away for a moment. Both Basil and Amy reeled back in surprise at her outbreak. “That… that piece of shit back in the hospital? That hasn’t been my body since Dusu had her way with it! She twisted it, broke it, turned it into… not me!”

Hm…

“This is how I see myself… how I should have been, had that monster not fucked up my life! As far as I’m concerned, the piece of meat back in the hospital is just there to project and recharge this form… and I know that every. Single. Moment I spend in it to recharge my power will be pure hell, waiting to get out of that prison again!”

“Prisca, look, I know this projection feels great, but you shou-“

“No, Basil, you don’t get it!” Prisca replied, cutting him off. “This is me. The me inside of me, the one you always said you saw in me when I asked what you saw in me! Why won’t you take it now?”

“Because neither of us is ready, Prisca, and I’d rath-“

“Agh!” She threw her arms up and turned on the spot, wrapping them around her head. “Why are you so… so responsible and considerate? What kind of teenage boy says no to… to sex?“

He giggled. “I am not a normal teenage boy… and I love you enough to wait for as long as it takes for us both to be ready. You are worth it, and I am sure our first time will be worth it, too.”

Ohh, how sweet.

Finally, Prisca relaxed and looked over her shoulder, her eyes misty. “I hate this. You’re right, but I don’t care, I still just want to… to jump you.”

“Maybe you would rather go out with me – a nighttime stroll, to burn off some energy?” he asked, relaxing now that she was calming down.

“No… no, you’re right. You’ve got to be horribly tired, and I need some me-time to… to cool off. And get to know this body.” A simple dark green bodysuit appeared on her, looking a lot like standard hero wear, skintight and smooth. “At least I don’t need to ever worry about clothes,” she added.

Basil nodded, stepping forward to pull her into a far more tender kiss than before. When he let go of her, they were both flushed again, but the… tension from before was no longer there. “I am sorry I am being so stubborn right now, but I hope we will both look back at this and laugh, later,” he told her.

She nodded, her eyes more than a little wet. “I… I guess we will. It’s sweet, at least. But now I should go, or I might just jump you nonetheless.”

Smiling, he wished her good night and closed the window behind her.

Good Lord, that was not what I expected, at all. What did I make this popcorn for, now?

She watched as Basil pulled the curtains shut, then walked over to the one free wall in his room – well, more like the one part of his walls that he could easily stand in front of – and started to headbutt it.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Rolling her eyes, Amy walked to his room and went inside without knocking.

“Feeling stupid?” she asked with a smirk.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

“You watched.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course I did – for a moment, I was ready to blast her into the sky before I remembered that she was your girlfriend’s projection.”

“A wee little more than that, it seems. At least to her,” he replied.

“Yeah, well, about that. What did you expect? She’s been trapped in a body that was deformed by forces completely out of her control and now she suddenly gets her perfect dream body… it’s really a common problem for Spawners who actually create remote bodies of some kind. Think there’s a scientific term for it…”

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

“Multiple Body Disorder, kind of the opposite of Fluid Disorder, or a close cousin to it, depending on the theory you adhere to. People with multiple or changeable bodies often have trouble with their physical identity, to say the least… often followed by a complete disintegration of their former identity,” he rattled off as he kept hitting the wall with his head.

“But that’s not why you’re hitting that poor wall with your thick head, is it?” she asked playfully.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

She smirked. “No, it’s because you just passed on what was surely going to be passionate, unrestrained and most probably mindblowing sex… all for the possibility that it might make her feel bad in the future… even though she’d most probably love it.”

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

“C’mon, everyone’s an idiot sometimes – come here.” He looked at her with a questioning look.

Winking, she said: “How about we watch a movie before going to sleep? Come on, I made popcorn, and you need some distraction.”

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

“Alright.”

“And please stop punishing that wall. Now, come on, my dearest little idiot.”

He snorted and turned away from the wall, before stopping in his tracks and looking at her. “What the hell did you make popcorn for?”

* * *

Memories forgotten, but not lost

They’d ended up watching a Disney movie (The Lion King, it had always been great at distracting him from whatever was weighing down on him) and emptying the bowl before going to bed.

Amy laid down in her queen-sized bed, the strain of the day catching up to her as her eyes closed…

“Are we there yet?” she asked her big brother.

“Not yet, Amy,” he said as he carried her on his back by a few straps he was using to hold her there and dangle the sack with the… pieces from.

“Amy? Why Amy?” she asked as she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I thought my name was Amanda now?”

“Well, Amy is like, a nickname. A short form, right?” he replied. “Amanda can be your full name, and Amy the name your friends and family use.”

“That’s stupid! You’re the only one that matters, so why do we need names in the first place? And why do you call yourself Macian, anyway?” she asked, giggling as he threw her an annoyed look over his shoulder. This was nice, distracting her from the pain of the missing pieces.

“Well, first of all, it’s not an actual name, but a cape. Means ‘Maker’, which is just bloody fitting, don’t ya think?”

She tilted her head to the side, confused. “A ‘cape’? But it’s a word!” she replied, indignant that he was violating common sense now.

He chuckled now, which she thought was nice. He did it so rarely. “It’s slang. A kind of technical term. A ‘cape’ is a superhero’s whole identity – costume, name, modus operandi, stuff – and a ‘cowl’ is the same, only it belongs to a villain.”

“So you’re gonna be a superhero? Cool!”

“Yeah, Ember really left an impression,” he replied, blushing a little. “Especially considering I barely got to know him before we were seperated again by that bugger’s spell.”

“He sounds nice. And he helped you pick a name for me! So I wanna meet him, can we do that?”

“Of course, as soon as we get out of here. We’ll go to the sea and have a bath, we’ll get our own house, and friends, and family…”

She giggled, imagining all that before the pain of… before it made her flinch again. She tried to surpress a cry of pain, but she knew he’d noticed, and it always made him sad when she was in pain, even if it wasn’t ever his fault…

“What about you? Don’t you need a real name, too?”

“Hm, I do. Forgot to ask him for help with that. Got any ideas?”

“You’re asking me!?” she asked, delighted.

“Well, of course,” he said as they rounded a corner and he looked over his shoulder at her. “I picked yours, so it’s only fair if you pick mine.”

She would have clapped her hands in glee if she could. “Hmm, a name, a name… something with a ‘B’!”

“Why a B?”

“Because mine starts with an A, so yours should start with a B… how about… uh…”

She thought about it real hard as he went into an empty room and gently put her down. “I need to think some more, I think,” she said as he unpacked the sack, and took his tools out of his belt.

“Take your time, I’ve got plenty to do,” he said as he began to clean the pieces and her up and started to clean his tools, too.

“Hmm…” She thought about it some more when he started to work, and it even distracted her from the pain… a little. “B… Basil? Bart? What about Balthasar, that was someone in one of those books you read me before. About that old king, and that Daniel boy.”

“Bart is a short form for Bartholomew, I think. And Basil for Basileus,” he said as he made his stitches. It hurt, but she was used to it.

“Hm, Basileus, or Bartholomew, or Balthasar… they’re all nice, and they fit you, I think. Feels right. But which one, I can’t decide!” she complained, trying to ignore the pain in her leg as he finished and made her try it out.

“Well, why not take them all? Greed is good. So… Basileus Bartholomew Balthasar… Basil short. What should be our last name?”

“A last name? You mean… like a real family?”

He nodded.

“Hmm… Black!” she said as she looked into his eyes. They were so pretty, and bright and black…

“Black… Blake, then. It means ‘Black’, but sounds more interesting than just black,” he said as he went to work on her other leg. “Should we have a double last name, too? You know, like, our parents married but decided to keep both last names?”

“Sure! But then you choose the other name!” She flinched a little when he finished and made her test it, but neither of them commented on that.

“Okay… hmm… a little difficult… how about… Brant?” he asked, trying to smile while he worked on her left arm.

“Why Brant?” She tried to smile back.

“Just because. So, Basileus Bartholomew Balthasar Brant-Blake it is!”

She giggled happily. It was so silly. She liked it. And when she started to smile, he smiled too, for real this time, and that made her smile some more…

And then she got careless and cried out a little when he finished the left arm, making them both flinch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he started, but she shook her head vigoriously.

“It’s alright. I’m used to it, and you’ve gotten way better,” she said, trying to calm him down. Her silly brother always took everything so serious…

“I need to finish the other arm, and your right eye, so please relax now,” he said as he took one of his knives and approached her empty left eye soc-

Amy literally flew out of her bed, almost slamming into the ceiling before she caught herself.

What? What!?

She was drenched in sweat, her heart beating like crazy as she floated down again, rubbing her rough arms.

Another one of those dreams… if only I could remember… I need a shower…

Going to the bathroom, she immediately got into the shower without even turning on the light, throwing her nightgown into the laundry basket and turning the water on hot.

Rubbing herself vigoriously with the sponge, she tried to get the clammy sensation of sticky sweat off of her, and wash off the… the remnants of that dream. Whatever she’d dreamed about, it always made her all sweaty and worked up and feel so rough.

Getting out of the shower, she stepped in front of the mirror, sopping wet, and turned the light on with a thought…

And she screamed for a second before cutting it off.

Oh God, what happened to me!?

Her whole skin was covered in scars. From her scalp down to… she looked… down to her toes, scars everywhere, making her look like a leathery carricature of a woman… as if she’d been cut and torn apart thousands of times, and someone had put her back together, again and again and now she remembered the dream, twinkle twinkle little star, she saw the boy with the blazing black eyes, it was Basil but he was older than her, how I wonder what you are, that made no s-

Amy stepped out of the shower to dry herself off in front of the mirror. Her skin was no longer sweaty and clammy, but back to its usual softness. She could barely remember what had happened, only a bad dream, and now a lingering sense of… unease. A lack of safety.

What is going on wi-

She went to Basil’s room, not bothering to clothe herself, and slipped under his blankets, hugging him close.

The feeling vanished as she felt… safe.

Here she did. Only here, really, with her brother, did she feel… safe and whole… as if he was the only thing holding her together, putting her together…

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