What Happened in Portland

[Voidus]

 

Yorrick yawned as he listened to Zip whinging, he ruffled a hand through his short spiky hair.

He'd come into the old staff room of what was now the Minor Epic Empire's headquarters to get away from all the other Epics. He didn't know why he'd even joined up with this group, sure all that stuff Refill had said sounded good and he was sick of all the Epics in the city treating him like a joke, but ultimately what could they accomplish?

A skull surrounded by a purple flame floated in front of Zip's face, the skulls jaw mimicking the motions of the Epics mouth.

"Would you stop that!?" Zip asked. "I'm in charge here, you can't just mock me like that."

"Whatever." Yorrick said, grabbing his nearby leather jacket as he rose from his chair. "I'm going out to prepare for tonight."

A series of skulls burning with different colours followed him out of the room. He walked through the hallways of the old school buildings, emptied for years now. No children went to school anymore, the world had changed so much since Calamity.

Yorrick sighed as he exited through a fire escape door, the sirens had long since been cut. Stitch stood nearby in the cool evening air, playing with his new creation.

"I'm going to the cemetery." Yorrick told him. "Care to join?"

Edited January 17, 2015 by Voidus

[Mrs. Voidus she/her]

 

"Care to join?" Yorrick asked. 

 

Throwing his head back, Stitch laughed loudly for several minutes as though it were the funniest thing that had ever been said. He clasped his chest as he struggled for breath between howls and then wiped a tear from his eyes, chuckled a little more then made no noise at all, his face dead pan and his eyes dull and mirthless. 

 

"let's go." He said, mentally commanding Jerry The Prototype to sweep its cloak out dramatically and begin walking away.

 

The threesome wove through the streets heading toward the church district with Yorrick juggling some skulls he had taken out in the midsts of Stitches outburst in obvious boredom. "So," Stitch began.

 

"You see any of the layd-eez? These epic women sure do beat the vanillas back at the office. Do you remember Janice?"
"Janice?" Said Yorrick. "Was she the one that was always at the photocopier, regardless of the time of day, and no one knew what her job was?"

 

"Yep. She and I got acquainted one year at the Christmas party, if you know what I'm saying. Did the old, Copy and Paste. The Pen Lid Boogey. The Papier-mache, the - "

 

"You made everything about that story up." Yorrick interrupted. "Including those euphemisms. The Pen Lid Boogey?  A pen lid can't dance, and neither can you, with trousers or not."

 

"HA!" Shouted Stitch. "Shows what you know!" He chortled as his breast pocket peeled from his jacket and fell to the ground with three pens while their lids jiggled merrily along a fine blue thread in mid air, like the dullest fairy lights in existence. 

 

Yorrick gave no reaction.

 

"But yeah, Janice was not exactly the brightest bulb in the street-light." Stitch continued merrily. 

"there is only one bulb in a street-light."

"Exactly!" Stitch exclaimed without any further explanation. "Anyway, these epic women are nothing like that. Three guesses the dumb ones are just cronies or dead. I got talking to this one epic, she called herself the Cat-terpreter, said she could talk to cats. I don't know if it was true, but our conversation sure was animated. HA! Get it? Animated?" Stitch began laughing again and stopped walking to do so more thoroughly.

 

Yorrick gave no reaction.

 

"Ah come on man, ANIMATED!"

Yorrick stopped walking and sighed. "Shouting it out doesn't make it make sense."

"A-NI-MA-TED!" Stitch annunciated deliberately.

"Nope." Said Yorrick.

 

"Well, Jerry here thought it was funny." Said Stitch in a mock hurt tone, indicating his corpse soldier who was rolling about on the floor and opening and closing its mouth in silent laughter, tearing bits of its skin in the process.

Edited January 17, 2015 by Mrs. Voidus

[Kobold King he/him]

 

I never forget those who turn me down. Samantha, I'm giving you one last chance. You're a smart girl, show the world what you can do. If you used your brains with your heart, you could be successful. You could provide for your mother and yourself. You wouldn't be mocked by others. I won't give you another chance. Will you join Thoughttown?

 

Sam stared down at the paper, mouth dry and heart pumping a bit more loudly than usual. Her eyes flickered around at the table; at Doctor Funtimes, grinning idiotically with a stare somehow more vacant than usual; at the emperor Lightwards, who was glaring at Funtimes as if she were the root source of all evil; and most of all at Altermind.

 

The hallucination that ruled a city.

 

Taking a deep breath, Sam hid her face behind the clipboard and retreated into her thoughts.

 

 

 

 

The more he thought about it, the more Lightwards realized that Doctor Funtimes was the root source of all evil.

 

Perhaps not technically, but definitely in a metaphysical sense. She sat across the table, grinning with the mask of bubbly enthusiasm she liked to put on. She was quite probably the most despicable Epic he'd ever met; she stole vanillas as her servants, then feigned moral superiority over her peers by calling them "friends." She spoke as if she had no intention of ruling or bettering the world, yet at every turn she strove to prevent the high-minded from seizing control.

 

She's not a person so much as a force of entropy, Lightwards thought through his steadily buzzing brain. Every second I go without a means of controlling her is a second at risk.

 

Memories flashed through his head. Standing neck deep in snow during his attempted takeover of Sacramento. Falling endlessly through the air at the whim of Möbius. Standing in tar as Funtimes smiled and asserted her dominance.

 

I'm a pawn, at mercy of the queens and rooks of the board, he thought bitterly. My cause will never progress this way. I wonder... how effortlessly could I kill her in her seat right now? My Warriors could blow out her brains before she could teleport. I'd display my might to Altermind and rid myself of an enemy in one strike...

 

Pamela and the toy soldiers were swaying drunkenly around the room, seeming somehow more lost and aimless than usual. With some difficulty Lightwards managed to steady them, slowly inching their hands towards their weapons.

 

“There´s a rather simple solution for dealing with Corpsemaker.”

 

Lightwards snapped his head around, glaring intensely as Lucentia. The woman was sitting stiffly in her seat, hands on the table as she interrupted the meeting. Lightwards felt his teeth begin to grate together.

 

 “All you have to do is make sure I can get to him, and I´ll make a fitting prison for him," Lucentia went on, using a black diamond statuette to illustrate her point. She encased the human form in a sphere of dark crystal, and then rolled the ball to the center of the table. "Suddenly, he can neither see nor free himself, making him completely harmless. I assume there are no objections.”

 

"You assume?" Lightwards snapped, temper flaring at the pompous queen. "I..." he trailed off, feeling slightly light-headed. In honestly, that was the plan he'd been considering. There was no rational reason for attacking the concept now, solely because of its current proponent.

 

He still needed to suppress anger as he continued. "That is precisely the project I had entertained," he continued, keeping his voice level. "Using Lucentia's ability, CorpseMaker can be contained indefinitely in a neutralized state, like an insect trapped in amber. But this will not be as easy as she implies. We will require a full coordination between Thoughttown's forces and my own, in order to eradicate the Dominion's lieutenants and to draw CorpseMaker out into the open. For this cause, I recommend we supply one another with mobiles, in order to maintain constant contact."

 

Finishing his response, Lightwards took a deep breath and glared at the rest of the table. First at Lucentia, then at Altermind's stoic posture, and finally, he once again directed his scowl at the glittering root of all evil.

 

 

 

 

 

Six Years Previously

Thoughttown

 

 

Samantha Trattner lifted a pen from her paper, utterly exhausted.

 

The rest of the room was quiet save for the quiet whir of ceiling fans, the other desks empty. When she'd first come here there was a boy her age and a girl a few years younger than her; they'd both been escorted in tears out of the building. And for good reason; many of the children expelled from Thoughttown wouldn't live long enough to become adults. Not in this city.

 

Stomach clenching with the thought, Samantha anxiously poured over her test. It was a plain white sheet of paper, with a simple and stern-looking typeface asking a series of bizarre questions. Questions like "Which number should come next in the series 1 - 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 8 - 13," followed by a list of possible answers. She'd done her best to answer them all correctly. She could only hope she'd done well enough to pass.

 

Checking her answers for what felt like the billionth time, Samantha raised a hand into the air. "Mr. Ringle?" she called nervously. "I finished."

 

The man sitting at the other end of the hall rose from his seat, crossing the room to where Samantha sat.

 

Mr. Ringle was a tall, spindly man with short grey hair and a bushy mustache that looked like the brush on a vacuum cleaner. There was a scar that looked like it came from a bad burn across his forearm, though he hadn't explained where it came from. As far as Samantha could tell, his job in Thoughttown seemed to involve taking young children's tests, evaluating them, and then telling informing them whether or not they'd be exiled. He had a vaguely tired look about him, with a weary tone of voice and wrinkles under his eyes.

 

Right now, he was turning those wrinkled eyes over Samantha. His stare was undoubtedly turning up a wealth of details she felt she ought to feel self-conscious about--her pants were ragged with various tears and gashes, her shirt was torn and stained, and her shoes had so many holes she might as well be barefoot. But at the moment, she was simply too tired to care. She met his gaze expectantly, waiting for him to make a comment.

 

Ringle was quiet for a moment, but finally spoke in a soft, wheezing voice. "The world hasn't been kind to you, has it Samantha?"

 

Samantha stared for a moment, but slowly shook her head. Mr. Ringle was apparently also in charge of gross understatements; though as usual, she kept that particular observation to herself.

 

The man looked her over a minute more before asking another question. "Where are you from, Samantha?"

 

That question needed an actual answer. "San Diego," she replied quietly, lowering her eyes and starting at her feet.

 

Ringle was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry to hear that," he responded, sounding sympathetic. "I heard about what happened there. Our leader Altermind spoke on it, in fact--he keeps this city defended from scourges like Obliteration, and he warns us about the dangers outside every now and then. He's a great man." His hand idly moved over the burn scar on his forearm as he spoke. "Strict at times, yes, but a great, great man."

 

Snaping out of his reverie, Ringle glanced at Samantha. His gaze lingered on her torso, as if he were trying to count the bones in her ribcage; if her shirt were off, it would probably be possible.

 

"Are you hungry, Samantha?" he asked finally, walking over to a small pantry at the other end of the test chamber. "We have food, you see. I'm not permitted to give you much nutrition until you've been evaluated, but we have enough of these..." He trailed off, digging about in the pantry without waiting for a response. He shortly returned with a small paper plate with a sandwich on it.

 

It was cold, but with a smell that brought a sudden rush of memories; memories of greasy fast food from back before Calamity. Samantha eagerly plucked it off the plate and began tearing into it, suddenly aware of how hungry she'd been over the last few months.

 

"I'm a bit sick of McMuffins myself," Ringle said with a chuckle, watching in amusement. "But I suppose they're hard to come by everywhere else but here. We have an unlimited supply, you see."

 

Still chuckling, Ringle took the paper from the desk and retreated to his end of the test chamber.

 

 

Too soon the sandwich was gone and Ringle still sat at the other end of the room, grading her test. Samantha began to feel an anxious feeling in her gut; though granted, that could have been the greasy Thoughttown food. She made herself wait patiently in her seat.

 

I wonder if Mom's been graded yet, she wondered quietly. She started before I did. Somehow, the thought that her mother's fate may have already been decided did little to comfort her.

 

Back to counting tiles, then, she thought dully, and began dutifully taking survey.

 

After what felt like forever, she was shaken from her daze by Ringle's voice.

 

"Congratulations, Samantha. You passed!"

 

She snapped right out of her reverie in an instant. "Wait, what? Really?"

 

Ringle was beaming broadly, holding the sheet emblazoned with a bright green letter that looked like a 'B.' "You're accepted, Samantha. You're accepted at the Beta level--not quite a genius like our leader, but more than enough to be an immensely valuable citizen of Thoughttown. Most citizens are Gammas and Deltas--Scorch got in at Epsilon, but that's mainly... well, nevermind. The important thing is Samantha, you've passed. You've never got to worry about starvation or death by Epics again."

 

Samantha took the sheet of paper with shaking hands, feeling a rush of relief flowing over her.

 

I did it, she thought excitedly. I'm going to live.

 

She felt a flash of guilt at the thought, but quickly suppressed it. She got to her feet and began rushing to the door.

 

"Whoa there," Ringle chuckled, grabbing her by the arm as she ran by. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

 

"I'm going to tell my mom," Samantha explained, smiling slightly.

 

"Ah." Ringle's beam disappeared and he looked at a loss for words. "Well you see, Samantha--I haven't told you that part yet."

 

Samantha's brief smile disappeared. "What do you..." Realization hit her. "She... she didn't pass?"

 

Ringle cracked a weak, rueful smile. "You are a quick girl. And I hope you won't hate me for saying that the fact that you came to that conclusion so quickly makes it quite clear that you're not surprised."

 

Samantha shook her head wildly. "No, you can't kick her out!"

 

"Yes, I'm rather afraid we can. We don't have much of a choice, actually. She scored a 'Zeta' on the adult level tests. There is frankly no way our leader would accept such a low score."

 

Ringle sighed as the girl continued to pull away from his grip towards the door. "Samantha, you are a very smart girl. I've got the evidence right here. I know it's hard, but you've got to make the smart choice. Your survival depends on you making the right decision today. As hard as it is to hear, you can live without your mother."

 

"No, I can't!" Samantha yelled emphatically, tugging against the older man's grip. "You don't understand, I need her--"

 

"I understand quite well," Ringle said sternly. "I left my family behind, Samantha. I loved my wife and son, but I saw an opportunity when it presented itself. I'm not asking you to do anything I don't understand quite well."

 

She stopped struggling long enough to fix the man with an intense glare. "You're a coward."

 

"I'm smart. Like you are."

 

Samantha glared at him a moment longer before her eyes settled on the hand gripping her arm.

 

"Now, I hope I can talk a little bit of sense into you," Ringle went on. "We've got a wonderful foster home system here, so you'll be well taken care of. You'll have nothing but the very b--"

 

He cut off as teeth dug into his hand, making him yell out in pain and let go of her arm. Samantha quickly shoved him back and took off running through the test chamber doors and down the Thoughttown halls.

 

 

Ringle shook his hand off irritably, staring down the halls after her. His other hand briefly went to a radio thinking to call the guards, but he stopped with a sigh.

 

Samantha Trattner had made her choice.

 

 

 

 

Present Day

Former Sadry Residence

 

 

Sam's pen furiously scratched over the paper, filling out her message.

 

 

I don't know how you remember me after all this time. Maybe you are a genius like you say you are. I do know that you are still and always will be A SLONTZE.

 

When I was a little girl I had to race to a Thoughttown truck before it drove off, since your cronies were going to dump my mother on the side of the road somewhere. I had to beg and plead to be loaded on board with all the other people your utopia left behind. And I can tell by the slontzes you're allying with that you haven't changed a bit.

 

So no, Altermind. I think I'll take my chances with the glittery cannibal over here. I'm flattered you thought of me, but thanks but no thanks.

 

P.S: You don't need to make yourself look like some kind of movie star. We're all pretty sure that you're secretly a warty, hairy troll with a big hideous birthmark.

 

P.P.S: I hate you.

Edited January 28, 2015 by Kobold King

[Mailliw73 he/him]

The Diamond Queen responded before the Trattner girl. Altermind attended that conversation again as Lucentia provided a demonstration. “There´s a rather simple solution for dealing with Corpsemaker.” A miniature human mannequin of diamond grew on the table. “All you have to do is make sure I can get to him and, I´ll make a fitting prison for him," Lucentia said, trapping the figurine in a solid black diamond. “Suddenly, he can neither see nor free himself, making him completely harmless. I assume there are no objections.” Altermind admitted to himself that it was quite impressive. It would solve the problem he had wondered about.

Lightwards raised his voice, angrily snapping at Lucentia, "You assume?" Altermind was pleased to see that Intervention was doing his job well. "I...That is precisely the project I had entertained," Lightwards said, regaining his composure. "Using Lucentia's ability, CorpseMaker can be contained indefinitely in a neutralized state, like an insect trapped in amber. But this will not be as easy as she implies. We will require a full coordination between Thoughttown's forces and my own, in order to eradicate the Dominion's lieutenants and to draw CorpseMaker out into the open. For this cause, I recommend we supply one another with mobiles, in order to maintain constant contact." Lightwards glanced around the table, settling on Funtimes with a glare.

"Milady, that was a wonderful demonstration and it quite solves the problem I had," Altermind said smoothly. "Prof, I had a similar idea, so before I came, I had a technician work this up for you." Altermind put a mobile on the table, but hid it from the others' eyes. He gently slid it towards Lightwards, hovering just above the table and then he removed that hallucination so that it would appear in front of the necromancer.

"A mobile connected directly to mine," Altermind explained. What he didn't explain was that it had strict restrictions on it as well as a bug and tracking device that reporter to Altermind's own mobile. Lightwards would find cyberwalls blocking him from anything regarding Altermind or his location except to send a message or call. "For future coordination, just send me a call."

Now the tricky part. "One last thing before we go, I have a request of you, Doctor. So that Streetwise isn't able to spy on our covert operations, would you raise a building in Thoughttown like this one? Just ten feet or so to be out of his range. An elevator to travel up into it would also be ideal." Altermind said, hoping Intervention's methods would be enough to help her agree.

He quickly went back over to Samantha, seeing her finish a sentence. He read the last thing she had written.

I don't know how you remember me after all this time. Maybe you are a genius like you say you are. I do know that you are still and always will be A SLONTZE.

When I was a little girl I had to race to a Thoughttown truck before it drove off, since your cronies were going to dump my mother on the side of the road somewhere. I had to beg and plead to be loaded on board with all the other people your utopia left behind. And I can tell by the slontzes you're allying with that you haven't changed a bit.

So no, Altermind. I think I'll take my chances with the glittery cannibal over here. I'm flattered you thought of me, but thanks but no thanks.

P.S: You don't need to make yourself look like some kind of actor. Everyone knows you're secretly a warty, hairy troll with a big hideous birthmark.

P.P.S: I hate you.

Altermind froze in panic. His hallucinations flickered briefly. He regained control of them quickly, hopefully before anyone noticed the anomaly. How? How did this girl know? He was furious that she had, potentially on accident, discovered his weakness.

You ungrateful little swine. You'll regret this one day. You'll wish you had joined me and especially that you had at least been kind.

I'll see you again soon, Samantha. Don't forget me. Altermind dropped the pen onto the clipboard as he finished. He created one last hallucination for Samantha. He walked back to the table as the image and sound of Mrs. Trattner sobbing on the floor next to Samantha appeared to the girl.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

 

Lightwards was glaring at her. 

 

That wasn't surprising. A lot of people had glared at her. People like Soulflicker and Heracles had leveled that same darkened-eyes look, as if someone had reached back inside their heads and turned down the lights until all their thoughts became darker, blacker, meaner than usual. But there was something special about the look in Lightwards' eyes. Looks like that could say things. Soulflicker's had said I will own you. Heracles' had said Get me out of this chain mail bikini right sparking now or I swear to Calamity I'll— 

 

She'd teleported away before his eyes could finish their thought. 

 

But there was something deeper behind Lightwards' eyes, something familiar and not at all welcome. Doctor Funtimes' head was buzzing like it was full of mosquitoes, and she tried to think through the buzzing, tried to see what it was inside his head that she didn't like, didn't like at all, what could it be, what could it be? 

 

What were they saying? She didn't want to listen. Didn't want to hear what they had to tell her. But she had to know what it was, had to know what about him she wanted gone when she destroyed him. (How would she do it? Concrete shoes at the bottom of the river, maybe? Would that drown him once, or a hundred hundred times? Maybe that would work, but how would she get him to the river in the first—) 

 

And then she heard it. 

 

Shut. Up. You are going to listen to me for a change. 

 

That was it, that was what he was saying, he was sounding like—

 

You are selfish. That's what you are. You have this whole family wrapped around your finger because you can't see past your own nose. 

 

—her, he sounded like her and if he were really talking he'd say—

 

She's in Vancouver because you stifled her. 

 

Yes. That was what he'd say. Maybe not the last part—no, not the last part, because he didn't know. But he could know, if she gave him time. He could learn and then he could say what she would say, and then he'd know everything, everything she didn't want him to know and say everything she didn't want him to say. 

 

Would acid melt him? 

 

Silly question. Of course it would, but would it last? Or would the real Lightwards pop right back out of his Lightwards puddle and sit her down and say all the things she had said when she was—

 

She. 

 

A giggle bubbled up inside her. 

 

She. She she she. 

 

The giggle moved up through her throat and past her lips, past her hand while she tried to hold it back. 

 

He reminded her of a she. 

 

Lighty Lightwards reminded her of a lady. 

 

She kept her mouth covered, but the more she tried to hold it in the more the giggle wanted to come out. But she had to hold it back as much as she could, but it wouldn't be held back, but she had to try….

 

"One last thing before we go, I have a request of you, Doctor." 

 

Funtimes turned to Altermind, still giggling. Nathan was looking at her but she couldn't stop. 

 

"So that Streetwise isn't able to spy on our covert operations, would you raise a building in Thoughttown like this one? Just ten feet or so to be out of his range. An elevator to travel up into it would also be ideal."

 

He wanted her to show off again and Lightwards reminded her of a grumpy, grouchy, grey-streaked-hair lady. Doctor Funtimes nodded through her giggles. 

Edited January 24, 2015 by TwiLyghtSansSparkles

[Fatebreaker he/him]

Fade was instantly aware of the small red marble rolling towards him. It was most definitely some sort of weapon, one the deranged slave intended to use to protect her owner. He acted as if he hadn't noticed and addressed the one called Ray.

 

"I'm looking for information about a man. He's a ruthless killer, slaughtering anyone who gets in his way. He's massacred thousands, assassinated Epics, and destroyed entire cities. He's regarded as a monster, a myth, but he's real, and I intend to find him."

 

Without warning, he deftly reached out, broke off a thick horsetail reed and threw it into the red orb.

 

"Tell me, have you heard of an Epic called Quicksilver?"

Edited January 26, 2015 by Fatebreaker

[Edgedancer he/him]

Ray had to struggle not to scream at the old man. There were more than enough reasons to kill Nighthound, she had to experience that herself, but why does he have to be so sparking obvious. Worst case this would end up getting her killed. Alright, there might still be a way to salvage this, just as long as it gets rid of Nighthound.

 

It at least seemed as if the old Epic still had an idea. Without paying mind to Nighthound and Red he addressed her directly, "I'm looking for information about a man. He's a ruthless killer, slaughtering anyone who gets in his way. He's massacred thousands, assassinated Epics, and destroyed entire cities. He's regarded as a monster, a myth, but he's real, and I intend to find him."

Alright, they could work with that. Fill in some details about Nighthound into the mystery Epic.

 

The old man threw some kind of small bamboo at a blood marble Red dropped and continued. "Tell me, have you heard of an Epic called Quicksilver?"

“Does he come from Portland?” Let’s start in a way that isn´t to obvious.

 

“I doubt it.” Nighthound chimed in, waving a hand in front of his face. “The guy is pretty much an urban legend, maybe leaving a random person alive for testimony. Some say he already was a hit-man before he became an Epic, which doesn´t mean much because I also heard people saying that he´s an alien that landed near Mexico. One thing about him that can be assumed rather safely is that he already tracked down and murdered everyone that knew something useful about him pre-Calamity. Not sure why Lightwards or anyone for that matter would care for you to track him down, though, there haven´t been any new about him since roughly two years now.”

 

Ray led out a groan. He used a real Epic. Calamity why? Nighthound petted her head, “I know how you feel I also hate having my time wasted.” Ray slapped his hand away.

[Kobold King he/him]

 

 

 "Milady, that was a wonderful demonstration and it quite solves the problem I had," Altermind said with a suave smile. "Prof, I had a similar idea, so before I came, I had a technician work this up for you."

 

Lightwards scowled in his direction, both at the compliment towards Lucentia and at the use of the word 'Prof.' As far as he was concerned, any professor who allowed the nickname 'Prof' was either an idiot or not a real professor at all. Quite probably both.

 

Granted, he wasn't entirely sure if he was a 'real' professor any more. His employment at UC Davis had most likely been terminated after his incident there. But storm it, he'd worked for his degree and he'd worked for his position. And he hadn't done that work for some two-bit illusionist with a superiority complex to demean his status!

 

The illusionist continued to jabber on about the mobile, which Lightwards took awkwardly and examined with growing internal rage.

 

The screen's too bright, Lightwards observed bitterly, toning out Altermind as he chattered with Funtimes. Typical. You'd think the technicians would notice things like that. Little details to make things easy on the users. But noooo, they're just like the Knighthawk Foundry. They've got a monopoly on the industry and throw quality to the winds! I'd like to sit down with whoever the sparks runs that place and give him a piece of my mind. Scratch that: I'd blow his brains out. Everyone in the world needs their brains blown out, because CLEARLY THEY AREN'T USING THEM...

 

Oh wait. There was a screen brightness setting. Adjusting the brightness level to the lowest possible setting, Lightwards looked up again at the giggling Funtimes and the solemnly staring Altermind.

 

"Thank you, Altermind," he told the illusionist stiffly. "For your aide to the Empire you will be lavishly rewarded when the rest of this state comes under my control."

 

Pfft. He's going STRAIGHT to the allosaurs when I topple Thoughttown.

 

"Are there any other points on the agenda to consider?" he continued, privately forming a list of potential allosaur fodder. "I have a fortress to close down for the night."

 

 

 

 

 

Stifling a yawn as she finished her last postscript, Sam slightly held up the clipboard for the dictator to see. As she waited for him to read her response, she subtly peered around the board to view the table.

 

Funtimes was giggling and nodding her head like the psychotic slontze she was. Lightwards was glaring and grumbling under his breath as he fiddled with the phone he'd been given. Revolution seemed to have grown bored and was making goo goo eyes at a cute Thoughttown guard across the table, who seemed mildly conflicted by the attention. Altermind's illusion was sitting stoically as usual, staring impassively at his fellow--

 

Altermind vanished. Sam felt her eyes widen in shock, quickly glancing about in search of him. He was completely gone. He'd cancelled the illusion entirely. But why...?

 

Sam's slid downwards, staring into the glossy table top. Faintly reflected therein was the shadow of a face. A face that loomed right over her shoulder.

 

She immediately jumped in her seat, twisting around to look behind her. And for just a fraction of a second,

 

He was a scrawny young man with thin straw-colored hair atop his head. There was a gross mole-looking thing on his neck, and he was just as short as she was. But the most striking image in the second she saw him was his face. His face was average in appearance, but completely contorted with rage and shock. His teeth bared like a beaten dog. His eyes were wide and torn somewhere between complete bewilderment and murderous hatred. Under all the illusions Altermind looked like a normal guy, but that face was utterly inhuman. 

 

The man disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared, and the fake Altermind at the dinner table resumed his position. Sam turned back towards the table, heart pounding.

 

She'd turned off Altermind's illusions. No idea how, but she had. Every Epic had a weakness, and something she'd written had triggered his.

 

She jumped yet again when the pen raised in the air, picked up by Altermind's illusions. Her eyes weakly turned to Funtimes, who hadn't seemed to have noticed anything.

 

Sparks. He's going to kill me now, she thought, drops of sweat on her forehead. He can put that pen right through my eye socket in a second. Sparks. Sparks sparks sparks...

 

It was hard not to give an audible gasp of relief as the pen instead struck the paper, scrawling a new message onto the clipboard. Once he was done and the pen clipped back to the board, she read his note.

 

You ungrateful little swine.

 

Even under the circumstances, Sam smiled weakly at that. She'd touched quite the nerve, apparently.

 

You'll regret this one day. You'll wish you had joined me and especially that you had at least been kind. 

I'll see you again soon, Samantha. Don't forget me.

 

She faintly heard the sound of footsteps behind her, presumably as the real Altermind walked closer to his fake.

 

Her relief turned to another round of surprise as her mother appeared beside her.

 

Her mother appeared in an instant, clearly an illusion. But she was on her knees, her hands cupped around her eyes as deep sobs shook through her body. Her face was bruised and cuts covered her body. And she was sobbing. Sobbing her eyes out, suffering in her own unquiet misery.

 

Sam closed her eyes, wishing she could do the same with her ears. Storm it, why'd he have to pick this to show her? The sound that still plagued her nightmares some nights. Mom crying. Dad yelling.

 

Her eyes opened again, darting first to the picture of her weeping mother and then to the fake Altermind. The man looked more fake than before now; his face was vaguely the same, but everything else was different. He was tall. He was muscular. He was tan. He was handsome, and that ugly birthmark was gone altogether. He was so fake he was almost absurd.

 

Pushing down the anger and the bad memories, Sam tore off the page she'd written on the clipboard. Lucentia and that cheesy magician Epic were already looking at her with unhealthy interest. If she were going to get to use the information it held, she'd need to keep it away from them.

 

'Don't forget me,' Altermind had said.

 

Oh, I won't, Sam thought to herself, folding the paper and putting it down her shirt. This is when you threatened my mother and showed me how to kill you in the same evening.

 

I am never forgetting this night.

 

[Voidus]

Refill walked steadily through Thoughttown, holding an upside-down glass which continued to pour a clear liquid. Pure Ethanol, the smell still burned Refills nostrils, even after years working in a bar.

This night he would show Altermind, and all Epics like him. He would teach them not to judge an Epic just by the apparent usefulness of their powers. Tonight he would show them in a blaze of fire.

He'd stolen one of the uniforms off a deceased guard, one that had the least amount of blood and bullet holes in it. One guard had stopped him to ask where he was posted, luckily no one else had been around to notice the spray of blood from the guards mouth as Refill touched his neck, increasing the levels of blood in his veins until they burst.

As he rounded a corner he noticed a man in a lab coat ahead of him. A memory from the intel reports they'd cobbled together surfaced, a man like this was sometimes seen around Altermind, it seemed likely that he was an Epic of some sort, although no one knew what his abilities were.

Refill grinned, time to thin out Thought Towns numbers a bit. Edited January 28, 2015 by Voidus

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

 

“Is there any more urgent business to consider?” Lightwards asked. “I have a fortress to close down for the night.”

 

There are few things worse than sitting less than four feet from an angry Epic. Sitting less than four feet from an angry Epic who happens to be drunk is one of them.

 

Some claimed no difference between a drunk Epic and a sober one, but Nathan knew better. A sober Epic might shoot first and ask questions later, but once he decided to shoot, he rarely changed his mind. One angry thought, one pull of the trigger, and the confrontation was over and done.

 

A drunk Epic, on the other hand, might rant and rave and never pull the trigger. He might aim for the heart, or he might aim for the kneecap. He might hand the object of his anger over to his colleague, or he might take that unfortunate person home for special treatment. 

 

Nathan had no idea how Lightwards managed it without a drop of alcohol on the table, but he knew a drunk Epic when he saw one. His glare was directed at Funtimes, for the time being, but one stray thought and that could change. One stray thought and he would choose a new target. One stray thought and he would point an accusing finger down the table. One stray thought and Nathan’s secret would be exposed to a room full of Epics. 

 

Funtimes drew a long breath, ending her giggle fit with a cheery “Noperoonies! No more businessy-business stuff.” Her words slurred a bit, and Nathan felt a small jolt of panic. If Lightwards was a mean drunk, what kind of drunk was she? And how had she managed to get drunk without drinking? 

 

“We got a fortress thingy up there,” she continued, reigning in the slur slightly, “and I gotta get home an’ think ‘bout what you want for colors and stuff.” She giggled again, leaning toward Altermind, and jerked her thumb toward Lightwards, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “He reminds me of someone. Betcha can’t guess who.”

 

She fell back against her seat, covering her mouth as the giggles took her once more. Nathan wasn’t sure how long they lasted, but when they ended, she spoke without a slur.

 

“Great Noodly One, it feels like this meeting thingy’s gone on for-eh-ver!”

 

“I quite agree,” Nathan said sincerely, standing to his feet and offering her a hand.

 

“It feels like years! Days! Months, even!”

 

Resisting the urge to glance at Lightwards, Nathan took the bait. “How many months, darling?”

 

“I dunno,” she said with a cheerful shrug. “Like, two months, sixteen days, seven hours, and forty minutes or so.”

 

“That’s very specific,” he said.

 

“Not my fault the meeting was soooooo loooooonnnnnng.”

 

 

Timeport knew how to party.

 

Others could say what they would, but only the weakest wouldn’t call a night where vanillas were decapitated by slips of paper and their own sleeves a party. It was a hell of a time. A bloody good night.

 

Quota held the door for his teleporting friend, knowing he wouldn’t bother. True to form, Timeport simply ported past the doorway.

 

“Calamity, you’re fun,” Quota said with a laugh. “What say we hit the streets?”

 

----------------------------------------------------------

 

Fear and despair hung heavy over the neighborhood, like mist. Unlike mist, the cloud grew stronger with distance. Quota felt it, a palpable force growing the further they went down the sidewalk. He unconsciously quickened his pace. Another Epic was having just as much fun as they were, and Quota wasn’t about to let it pass him by.

 

Sure enough, bodies were strewn all along the street. Their skin bore burn marks, some carved into designs like lightning bolts, some not. Eyes stared sightlessly toward the darkened sky. Limbs were bent and twisted at odd angles.

 

And there, striding through the cloud of terror and the mass of bodies, was Electro. He radiated confidence. Power. Anger.

 

Pleasure.

 

Quota nudged Timeport as the idea struck. Grinning, Timeport did as suggested, and Quota hurried toward Electro.

 

“Well, well, well. Looks like you’ve been having some fun.” Quota couldn’t hold his grin back, and he didn’t try. He lifted the severed hand Timeport had given him.

 

“Need a hand?” 

[Edgedancer he/him]

An attack had started on Thoughttown. From what Big Al heard Strongsteel ´s walls slowed down their attack but with most of their Epics gone their chances weren´t exactly looking good. He wondered if anyone had notified Altermind yet. Thinking about it, Rita should return pretty soon now. Pity that she wouldn´t be able to enjoy her return propery, with Damnation breaking loose here.

 

Through all of that Big Al was still walking through the hallways, munching on a Sausage McMuffin. He had some things to prepare for Rita, before could head for safety.

 

The sound of liquid hitting the ground called his attention. Behind him he saw one of their soldiers, who, judging by his uniform had quite the rough time. As a cheer up Big Al pulled out a Sausage McMuffin from his none existent pocket, seeing the endless amount of liquid pouring out of the man´s glass gave him pause, none of their Epics was supposed to have a power like that, but his smile made it clear. It was the entirely wrong kind of smile.

 

He offered him the McMuffin anyway, even an Epic couldn´t hate those. “How do you feel about a Sausage McMuffin?”

                                                                                       

 

Voidgaze could have used a dinosaur for the ride back. It felt like she had walked for months now. Still, she almost made it and-

Gunshots, from the direction of Thoughtown. Sparks, couldn´t she just get a nice evening.

 

She started running towards Thoughtown and loosened the pages in her sketch book. The blank paper interlocked with each other and formed a white layer sliding on the ground in front of her.

 

As Thoughttown came into sight her fear proof true. The walls were under siege. Voidgaze ran straight towards them. Bullets were shoot at her. Her tassels knocked them out of the air. Given they were no threat to her Voidgaze just kept running. Some of the attackers that got close enough to her on their own that they stepped on the paper and in turn were annihilated. Simply falling into nothingness, as their feet first and then the rest of their collapsing bodies touched the white. After that the other kept their distance.

 

She reached the wall and pulled herself up using her sleeves to grab the wall. A couple of soldiers on top of the wall started to gather around her. She lowered herself on the other side of the wall. Continuing her dash she headed for the insides of the headquarters. Please, let Big Al still be alright. 

[Mailliw73 he/him]

As Electro scaled the barricade of bodies to exit the street he was on, he saw the very two he had been looking for. Quota and Timeport approached him, smiling. They should be, he thought. I am a victor. I have never succumbed to loss. These fools dared to kill my parents and now they died.

“Well, well, well. Looks like you’ve been having some fun,” Quota said. He lifted a severed hand, gesturing it towards Electro. “Need a hand?” Electro chuckled at the joke, lame as it was.

"I've got plenty here," Electro said as he gestured towards the bodies strewn along the street. "I could use some competition though. How does a bit of a hunt sound to you two? I know some good meat down there," Electro gestured down the road. "These stupid humans aren't a challenge. You two would give me some fun challenge though. How about a competition? The fastest one to kill their prey wins." He smiled at the idea.

[Voidus]

Refill strode towards the man in the lab coat, his glass still spilling it's flammable contents over the floor.

The other man turned towards him, smiling and reaching into a pocket. Instantly on guard for a gun Refill tensed, relieved when it appeared to just be a sandwich of some type, it almost looked like a burger, although all fast food chains had long since been demolished.

The other man took in his appearance carefully, holding out his hand he offered up the sandwich. Wait... that was a burger, how in the world?

Refill recoiled slightly, his confusion only amplified with the next words.

 “How do you feel about a Sausage McMuffin?”

That wasn't possible, they'd been destroyed how in the world had this man managed it? Swallowing a scowl, Refill attempted a smile, trying to control his shaking voice.

"Well thank you, most kind if I do say so."

He strode up as though to take the burger from the mans hand, quickly he grabbed the mans hand, sending a wave of his power into him.

"Your mistake? Letting me get too close." He said as the wave of power entered the other man.

Silence.
 

 

He... He's not dying. Why isn't he dying?
It was then that the silence hit Refill, looking at his other hand he noticed the cup had stopped emptying, the liquid had run out.

His powers were gone.

[Edgedancer he/him]

Sausage McMuffins are supreme justice.

 

At least that´s what Big Al assumed. Sometimes other people told him he was wrong in assuming so, but what do they know?

 

Whether or not he was right, which in this matter he most definitely was, it seemed the McMuffin saved him in this situation. Al wasn´t certain if it was because the awe at seeing a Sausage McMuffin again after the dark day that they had to close business or because he stumbled across his weakness, but he wasn´t exactly pick as long as it meant he wouldn´t be killed.

 

“Given that everyone I could report you to isn´t home right now,” Big Al said, “and my track record on the matter isn´t exactly model after yesterday, how about this? You go and do what you do, maybe take another Sausage McMuffin, and I just go where I go. You know, end this peacefully.”

[Voidus]

Refill stared at the strange Epic, dumbfounded.

How? I haven't eaten anything! I didn't even touch it!

He glared at the burger the man held, releasing his arm and taking a step back. The Epic continued smiling, speaking in an amiable sort of way.

What is his problem? Why isn't he fighting? Does he know?

Refill backed slowly away, a few steps later and he felt his power return, the glass began to fill once more. Taking several steadying breaths he met the eyes of the Epic once more.

damnation it! Why didn't I bring a weapon? Because I didn't think there was any possible way for it to activate. Who carries burgers around with them?

Refill glared at the burger in the mans hand. Years of memories surfacing, years of being stuck in a menial job, no prospects, no chance of being employed anywhere else, no chance of his life ever going anywhere.

But that's changed now, I'm somebody now! I've brought together the largest coalition of Epics in the city!

The silence stretched as Refill considered his options.

Call one of the others? No then they'd be able to guess what it is. Try to fight him myself? But how? I still don't know what his powers are. Run? But then he'd report to Altermind and they'd know. Only one thing for it. This Epic is going to have to die.

Refill launched himself at the Epic, hands reaching for his throat.

No one could know his weakness.
 

[Edgedancer he/him]

The Epic was clawing at Big Al´s throat.

 

He was better at it than Big Al would have liked. He flailed against his attacker, punched him in the face, kicked his stomach. He had no success. His attacker was enraged, ignoring every hit.

 

Big Al´s movements were growing more sluggish, sight wavering. He desperately needed air.

 

Suddenly, he could breathe again. As he looked up he could see Rita. One of her sleeves holding up the enemy Epic, who was trying to free himself from the cloth choking him. She did not look pleased.

 

“Rita…” The name escaped his mouth mostly as a groan. Still, Rita dropped both the Epic and the anger on her face. A second latter she kneeled next to him.

 

“Al, are you alright?” She was frantically checking him over for injuries. “Should I bring you to Panacea? But I should also help the soldiers and-”

 

The attacker had stood up again and was approaching them. The moment Rita noticed him a tassel pierced straight through his chest. While grasping at the blood streaming from his chest, he collapsed.

 

Before she so much as turned back at him, Big Al hugged her. Somehow, she seemed to need one and hugging her was a lot more comfortable than just lying on the ground.

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Altermind ignored the Trattner girl completely, leaving her to watch her mother weep on the floor. The illusion wouldn't last long, just until they left the house.

Funtimes agreed to his request quickly. Altermind had been worried, her attitudes toward others seemed fickle. They changed often and without warning.

Lightwards cut in, "Thank you, Altermind, for your aid to the Empire you will be lavishly rewarded when the rest of this state comes under my control." Altermind knew that the necromancer was too smart to actually let Altermind live. Neither would leave the other alive after the war with Corpsemaker.

"Are there any other points on the agenda to consider? I have a fortress to close down for the night," Lightwards finished. Altermind opened his mouth to answer, but Funtimes stole the words right out of his mouth. Well, not the exact words, but they had the same meaning nonetheless.

"Noperoonies! No more businessy-business stuff.” Altermind grinned at her slight slur. Intervention was quite handy. A short auditory hallucination told Intervention to reign in Funtimes's intoxication. Her slur lessened a bit afterwards.

“We got a fortress thingy up there, and I gotta get home an’ think ‘bout what you want for colors and stuff.” Colors? Altermind cringed behind his illusion. Knowing her, she'd likely decorate HQ all the different colors of the rainbow and make it rain glitter. She giggled, leaning toward Altermind, and pointed toward Lightwards, whispering. “He reminds me of someone. Betcha can’t guess who.” Altermind was confused. This lady had been difficult enough sober, drunk Funtimes was even worse. Before he answered, he had Intervention lessen the drunkenness even more. She cut him off yet again.

“Great Noodly One, it feels like this meeting thingy’s gone on for-eh-ver!” Noodly One? She's insane even sober. More so than I thought. Her boyfriend, Traveler stood and agreed.

“It feels like years! Days! Months, even!” Hyperbolic complaints were apparently a forte for her. Altermind couldn't say he disagreed though. The meeting had drug on quite a bit.

“Like, two months, sixteen days, seven hours, and forty minutes or so.” Specific hyperbolic complaints. Funtimes was precise, if not wholly sane. “Not my fault the meeting was soooooo loooooonnnnnng.”

Altermind finally cut in before it could go on longer. "My apologies, Doctor. I didn't mean for this to take this much time." He stood to leave. "Doctor, I'll-" His mobile buzzed. It was from the Southeastern gate captain in Thoughttown. Altermind read the message quickly, annoyed at the interruption. His annoyance changed to frustration and then anger. "Doctor, Milady, Prof," he said, nodding at each one. "Something's come up in Thoughttown. We're under attack. Epics are assaulting the borders, but they aren't affiliated with Corpsemaker." Altermind wondered who they were.

"Flashpoint." His lieutenant snapped to attention. "Take Forrest and Wade and get back to Thoughttown as quick as possible. Repel the attackers. If you can keep any for questioning, do it, but otherwise, remove them. I'll be there as soon as I can." Flashpoint saluted and took the two guards with him out the door.

"Sightline, Mare. You two head back as well. Take all but two of the guards. The rest of us will come shortly." Sightline teleported out the door and Mare left on a shadow horse.

Turning back to the Empire's Epics, Altermind said, "My apologies for this rude and abrupt departure, but my home is under attack. I'm sure you understand. Doctor, I'll see you in the morning." Altermind walked out the door, followed by the three other Epics from Thoughttown. Smoky and Summoner sped off in their Viper and Altermind and Intervention flanked them, followed by the last two guards. An obvious convoy of Epics like this cause regular humans to stay out of the way and to clear the roads. Altermind was able to speed back to Thoughttown without any obstructions.

[Voidus]

A cool mist formed slowly in the otherwise clear night, resolving into a streak of pink.

Neverthere watched the attack proceed, sitting on the edge of Thought Town's walls, feet dangling over the edge. Having swiftly overcome the border the Epics had all split off, Refill leaving by himself into the halls of Though Town.

What an idiot. The first person with a gun who realizes who he is will kill him in a heartbeat.

His words of being just as good as the High Epics had sounded very grand but in practice, there were quite obvious differences. While a true High Epic could stride through an entire army without any fear whatsoever, Epics like Refill would still be forced to sneak around, hiding their true nature.

Briefly, she contemplated projecting next to him to help him sneak through the guards.

Bah. He deserves whatever happens to him. I wonder what Wardy's up to, maybe I should check up on him again.

The streak of pink dissipated back into mist.
 

 

 

 

Yorrick did his best to ignore his enthusiastic companion, content to let the exuberant Stitch do the talking he slowly guided them through the twilight to the cemetery.

He sent a skull ahead to open the gates, the ethereal flames licking the bleached white bone provided some light among the gloom. The flickering lights revealed the tombstones of countless hundreds. Most were old, people didn't have a lot of time for proper funerals anymore, but some few were new and well maintained, the wealthier inhabitants of Portland had done their best to respect those who had left them.

"So. Pick a grave and start digging?"

Yorrick waved his hand towards a nearby grave, sending his skulls towards it to begin digging, flaming teeth straining against the ground.

[Jo and the Bush all/any]

"Before dawn, is all. Got to be back before then." Remington looked off into the barracks, where the rest of the Reckoners were still setting up. Gordon followed his gaze and saw Rachel talking with Alice. The girl didn’t respond to Rachel’s queries, just standing there vacant-eyed. a Victim of a mental attack? Perhaps one of Nighthound’s old hounds whose mind had shattered? That was a possibility when a subject maintained control of the mind and was forced to watch as their body committed atrocities.

 

"Be careful with her, will you? Lightwards messed her up pretty bad. She was trying to hide in plain sight when I found her. Didn't know enough to cover that wound in her arm.” How had Lightwards done this? He could only erase the mind, not half wipe it. “She—look, I know she doesn't look like an asset, but she's got to know something. Don't put too much on her, all right? This is the safest place for her," Remington went on. "Just keep her safe. Be gentle with her. She's been through more than anyone should have to put up with."

 

Gordon nodded. The way the man looked at Alice, it was like looking at a father seeing his child dying. “Don’t worry. I’ve done things like this before. I’ll keep her away from Lightwards, and the Rest of his Epics as well.” He smiled reassuringly, then turned away.

 

“People, once you’re done, please head for the Conference Room. Max, you said you had a Plan?

[Fatebreaker he/him]

Fade ignored the other girl. He kept his attention focused on Nighthound and the Girl. He inhaled through his nose, drawing in a calming breath. As he did, his heightened senses detected an unmistakable scent: Blood. He watched with his peripheral vision as the girl reformed the red orb and rolled it away. She could control blood then, though he was unsure of the extent. Still any information was valuable information.

 

"I mention him, because the latest reports have placed him in Oregon. He would have come inland from the coast, heading inwards towards the city that is rumored to be his eventual goal: 

 

Newcago."

 

Inside, Fade shivered. Not many knew Quicksilver's true abilities, and even fewer knew the extent of his powers. If he reached his eventual goal, he'd become nigh invulnerable. He had to stop him before that happened. The consequences were too terrible to contemplate. 

Edited February 2, 2015 by Fatebreaker

[Edgedancer he/him]

Calamity this is pointless. At this point Nighthound didn´t even know if the old man still had a plan what he was doing or if just rambled on. Maybe locking on to Quicksilver was an attempt to cover his failed attempt to get at Ray or he really had some business with him. Whatever it was it was wasting Nighthound´s time.

 

“Yes, the latest reports that are two years old now.” Nighthound stretched the time frame in hope it got into the Slontz´s head. “If hasn´t reached Newcago yet he either died on the side of the road or found something better to do.”

Nighthound jumped back to his feet. “Anyway, I still don´t see why someone committing suicide by Steelheart or whatever he´s hoping to do two thousand miles away should be any concern to us. Now excuse us, I think the three of us should take our leave and deal with more important matters, like my amusement.” 

[Fatebreaker he/him]

Fade felt his anger rising. If only he could just torture the information out of the girl, it would be so much easier. He wasn't one for bandying words, it gave him a headache. He just wanted to give into the rage, try and kill these objects in his path and interrogate the dying girl while she spent the few remaining breaths she had and get on with it. But getting into a fight lacking certain knowledge was not practical, so he needed to wait. He wrestled with his rage silently as he watched Nighthound turn away from him, dismissing him like he was an insect.

 

Fade decided to compromise.

 

And then he pulled out his .45 and shot Nighthound in the face.

 

He instantly Faded from sight  and backed up into a wall, where he watched the epic closely.

Hopefully this wouldn't have been a complete waste of time.

And there was always plan B.

Edited February 6, 2015 by Fatebreaker

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

With a giggling farewell to Altermind, Funtimes took Nathan's hand, then pranced over to Revolution and then Sam, towing him along as they joined hands. When they were ready, she raised her hands, lifting Nathan's and one of Sam's as she did.

 

"To the street!" 

 

And then they were there, three regular humans standing on the cracked asphalt as the only true Epic skipped back toward the floating house. Altermind's Epics streamed down the rope ladder, piling into their vehicles and speeding off in the opposite direction. Three ordinary, powerless, unarmed humans, standing there and watching their protector raise her hands to the propulsion device, altering it in some way only she knew. 

 

It's all part of the plan, Nathan told himself. A true teleporter wouldn't need a weapon, and he wouldn't bat an eye at being left alone on a darkened street. By leaving him to guard Sam and Revolution, Funtimes had given him the missing piece his disguise desperately needed: trust. Funtimes trusted Traveler enough to leave him alone, and she trusted Lightwards and Lucentia and all the rest to fall in line with her illusion. 

 

She could have at least insisted Remington come along. 

 

Nathan looked from Sam to Revolution. The hippie wore a deceptively small smile, as though she'd purposely dimmed a larger one for the sake of having fewer questions to answer. Sam, on the other hand, looked every shade of upset there was—angry, terrified, helpless, resigned. Nathan, former Newcago server Nathan, longed to take her aside and quietly ask if there was anything he could do. He already knew there wasn't, but sometimes just having someone ask was enough. 

 

But Traveler wouldn't care. 

 

Sighing, trying not to bite his lip, Nathan clasped his hands behind his back and watched as his girlfriend fiddled with the underside of the floating house. 

 

 

Protector Pug trotted down the sidewalk. Her small black ears bounced up and down, up and down as cool night air brushed either side of her face. She blinked it from her big brown eyes, letting out a long snort as her tiny claws sent tip-tap-tip-tap noises into the still night. 

 

Find a puppy that needs you.

 

The command did not solidify as words in her mind. To her, it was more of a sense. An imperative, as much a part of her as her soft black fur, that must be carried out despite all other inclinations. Despite the pile of fascinating compost lying in someone’s fenced-off garden.

 

No! Protector Pug gave her head a rapid shake, clearing her nose with a great sneeze. She could sniff the garbage later, after she found her puppy. Her puppy was more important than the pile of compost with its sweet-strong smell of old fruit and sour milk….

 

Go! Puppy! Now! Once again, there was no command, but Protector Pug cantered on anyway. She was a pug, and her Leader had made her a protector. She could still feel the surge of strength in her muscles, the certainty that she was a protector, the beautiful yes yes yes of being chosen and recognized as a protector dog. Now all she had to do was find someone who needed her.

 

Someone sad.

 

Protector Pug had seen sadness when her Leader made her a protector. His face had looked all pinched, like the sorrow he felt had drawn his usual smiles down deep inside and he didn’t think he’d ever find them again. And his eyes…she wasn’t yet sure what that liquid spilling from them meant. Though she had never seen it before, the tension she’d felt from him, pouring off of him, had made her want to run up and snuggle close and never leave him until he felt like himself again.

 

Find someone sad. Someone like me.

 

He hadn’t said that.

 

But he’d meant it.

 

Protector Pug paused and sniffed the air, inhaling the sweet scents of decaying oak and birch leaves. There were people just down the street; she could smell them faintly, along with the stronger, earthy smell of lizard. Leader had kept quite a few lizards, but never closely enough for her to study them. They had always looked so weird, skittering around their glass tanks on their splayed-out scaly little legs. Protector Pug longed to sit down with one and watch it until she knew it why it was so weird, how it could move so fast, what it was running from, and why it had to run in zig-zags to escape it.

 

This lizard smell was stronger. Bigger, like her Leader had merged them with elephants and told them to stand in one place and look weird. Protector Pug trotted further down the sidewalk, the lizard smell intensifying along with the people smell. Yes, the lizards were definitely bigger than the people. But her Leader didn’t usually send his creatures out this far. Protector Pug was an exception.

 

And then she saw it.

 

The sight made Protector Pug stop and tilt her head. It was a lizard, a big big giant lizard the size of an elephant with dark scales that were just barely illuminated in the colorful light from a floating house.

 

Houses shouldn’t be floating….

 

Protector Pug sneezed the thought away. Floating houses weren’t as important as the lizards. They were so big and weird, opening mouths to reveal huge sharp teeth that could crush and tear the humans standing on the sidewalk.

 

Humans. None of them were puppies, but Protector Pug felt her Leader nudging her closer, close enough to look and see if they were sad. She trotted forward, hoping the lizards hadn’t seen her. They didn’t belong to Leader. His creatures always had a sort of fun-ness about them, a little whiff that said Hi, I think I might like you just a little bit. These lizards had a smell, a stance that said You look like lunch. Even the humans.

 

Especially the humans.

 

Protector Pug sneezed at the wrongness of the thought. Humans weren’t lunch. Humans were like Leader. They could be leaders, or they could just be friends. But they were mostly leaders. You didn’t eat leaders. You kissed them and snuggled them and asked them for food. That these lizards wanted to eat the humans just said how much they didn’t belong to Leader. But they weren’t eating the humans, so they must belong to someone else. A different leader.

 

A leader who didn’t deserve to lead anyone.

 

Protector Pug sneezed again. The thought of a leader who would let lizards eat humans was so offensive she couldn’t ponder it for long. She trotted forward, leaving the sidewalk and stepping onto the asphalt, dodging the larger cracks. She had to speak to these humans. Had to ask what sort of a leader would make lizards that thought humans were lunch and not tell them otherwise. The humans wouldn’t answer her in any sort of way she could understand, but the way they responded to her, to their leader if he appeared, would tell her enough.

 

As she drew closer, her attention was drawn to one of the girl humans, the one dressed in black with pretty sparkle-shoes. Leader’s shoes had never looked like that, but Protector Pug liked the way they caught what little light there was and bounced it back in such a pretty way. The girl human, though, didn’t look happy. She stood all tense, arms hugging herself. Protector Pug thought at first that she was watching one of the other humans, the one in the poofy dress who stood underneath the floating house, but she didn’t seem to be. She was biting her lip and staring straight ahead.

 

A sad human.

 

Like Leader.

 

This was her, this was the human, the sad human who needed a protector dog.

 

Protector Pug closed the distance between them in a few seconds. She had to introduce herself—but how? How could she tell this sad girl human that she had a protector dog now, that not everything was going to be all right but that some things would be?

 

Tell her you’re there.

 

Protector Pug reached out with her tiny paw and batted the edge of the girl human’s jeans. The girl human didn’t respond, so Protector Pug moved an inch or two closer and batted her ankle—gently, gently, with her sharp claws retracted so as not to hurt her.

 

The girl human jumped and spun round, shuffling her foot away. Protector Pug sat and looked up at the girl human.

 

She didn’t just look sad. She looked scared.

 

Protector Pug knew she had to get rid of that fear, even in just a little way. So she did the thing that always made Leader smile.

 

She perked up her ears, and she tilted her head. 

[Mailliw73 he/him]

First part of a complication post between me, Mail-Mi, and Twi.

“Fastest one to kill their prey wins.”

Timeport grinned at the prospect, flakes of dried blood peeling off of his cheeks. “A hunt,” he said, pretending to mull it over in his head. In reality, he’d already decided that he was going to sparking pound Electro into the ground. “I like that idea.”

Timeport pointed his chin down and raised his eyebrows at the two other Epics. “Five victims. Meet at the old Japanese Gardens west of here, half an hour.”

Timeport smiled wider as the others started to nod. He already knew what victims he’d be using.

Electro smiled as Timeport upped the difficulty of his hunt. This one knew how to have fun. He agreed to the conditions and turned away, walking towards the northern edge of town. He knew some cute girls over there who'd be better off not roaming the streets, making fun of people. A couple of them had blown Electro off before he'd become an Epic and now he'd like revenge.

-----

"Hey there, remember me?" Electro said smoothly as he walked up behind a pair of girls in the alley. He stroked the blonde's smooth hair and eyed the brunette. "What are you doing here, dressed like that? You'll attract the wrong kind of attention that way." He grinned at their uncomfortable looks. They weren't used to punks they had made fun of turning into Epics. Neither said a word. "Well, then, no answer? No witty comeback? Let's go have some fun," Electro said. He shot a burst of electricity into the alley behind them to make sure no one was coming and to remind the pair of sluts of his power.

He ran his hand down the brunette's back and pulled them both closer. "We're going to play a game. But first," he said, "we need a few more players." He tugged both girls by their waists and began walking down the alley. They were reluctant, but they fearfully followed.

Electro found a woman a few years older than him walking down the road, head down. She was attractive, though, and Electro liked the scared ones. Scared girls made for the best hunts. He Scrambled the woman and approached her. She looked up, confused. "What am I doing?" She asked him.

"You're going to play a game with us, darling," Electro replied. He grinned maliciously and motioned for her to follow him. He let go of the two other girls and told them to wait. He shot a beam of electricity through the door of the nearest house. He put a finger over his lips and motioned for the women to follow him in.

He strode into the house, hoping for some delicious prey. A bullet curved right past his chest. Electro spun to the side and laughed. A man, in his forties, stood holding a rifle towards Electro. His daughter, seventeen at most, huddled behind him. Electro severed the barrel of the rifle off and then the man's hand. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want your daughter."

"Over my dead body, you creep!" The man yelled as he spat at Electro, clutching his arm stump. The girl's eyes grew wide in fear. Electro saw a glint of steel and a second later, a second bullet curved around his face. The daughter held a handgun out in front of her. Electro laughed again.

"Feisty, I like that."

"You slontze! Go creep somewhere else, pervert!" The girl yelled. Electro smiled. She had inherited her father's personality.

"Sorry, but I'm running out of time. I only have a few minutes to meet Timeport." Electro shot electricity and severed her father's head. She shrieked and shot two more bullets at Electro. Both narrowly missed again, thanks to his magnetic field. He cut the handgun in half with his powers and went over to the girl. She screamed and punched him, landing a hard blow on his arm. "Come on. Play nice. We're just going to play a little game. See these girls, they're being good," he said, gesturing to the two other girls cowering by the door. Two? Electro looked out the window to see the blonde prostitute running. Lucky for him, she was in heels.

Electro cursed and grabbed the girl, burning a small lightning mark into her hand to ensure her cooperation. He broke the windows and jumped out. He caught up to the blonde quickly and grabbed her around the waist. "Bad girl. Don't you want to play?" He kissed her forcefully. She slapped him hard. He cursed at her again and shot a burst of electricity at her ear, just barely cutting it. She stopped resisting and clutched it in pain.

"Come on, let's go back and get the others." Electro pulled her by the arm and took her back inside where, luckily, the other three were still waiting. "One more player and we'll go to the gardens." Electro shepherded the girls outside and, spotting a perfect candidate across the street, he whistled. The woman looked over at him and ran. He shook his head and cut off the soles of her shoes. She stumbled, but caught herself. Good. Electro liked his prey relatively unscathed.

------

"I'm here. Let's play," Electro called out to Timeport and Quota as he reached the garden. He was only a few minutes late, not bad at all. Timeport had his five victims too and looked ready to play.

"Shall we make this more fun?" Electro asked. He burned off a strip of the blonde's dress at the waist, which dropped her skirt to her ankles, and tied it around her eyes as she trembled. He smirked as he leered at her. "You girls too," he said to the other girls in his group. "Or I'll do it for you." He smiled at them, hoping they'd refuse. Only one did. Electro grinned at her as he came up closer so that she could hear him whisper. "I knew you liked me," he said. He reached for her waist and pulled her shirt off, brushing up against her skin the whole time. He grinned as he felt her terrified body beneath his hands. She began crying in fear. Electro kissed her on the cheek, mumbling, "It's okay. Don't worry."

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Part two of a compilation post between me, mail-mi, and Mailliw. 

 

Quota leaned against the gate, watching the girls scream and cry, whimper and utterly fail at the whole courage thing. Oh, there was one who looked like she might have it down--the one who stood staring straight out at nothing with her lips pressed together--but Quota could feel the fear pouring off of her in waves. Silence wasn’t doing her any favors.

 

Go on, girl, he wanted to say. Just go ahead and scream. Let it all out. I mean, it won’t help, but it’ll sure make me happy.

 

Unlike the other two, Quota stood alone. There was no bevy of frightened women trying and failing to escape or even avoid his presence. Just him, standing there by the gate and watching Electro repurpose skirts and blouses as blindfolds for prostitutes in heels.

 

He liked it better that way. Almost as much as he liked seeing a pretty girl’s clothes turned to a blindfold.

 

"I thought it'd be more interesting if I got ‘em all riled," he told Timeport. "And let that brunette one keep her skirt. Looks better on her than off."

 

It had been easy for Timeport to get his girls. They’d been his “friends” during those original years when Calamity came. They’d been part of a group with Seth Nathsha, running from those first Epics who’d turned the world upside down. And one day, they’d left him. They’d abandoned their hiding place, leaving Seth behind.

 

That was when Seth turned to Calamity for the first time. And that was when he vowed revenge.

 

Each one of them had recognized him when he’d found their hiding places. He’d looked them up, back when he was a Reckoner, just waiting for his opportunity to get his revenge. And now, he had the chance. They’d followed him willingly enough, after he’d killed the rest of the group, of course.

 

“Let that brunette one keep her skirt,” Quota told Timeport as he dropped Grendel’s jeans that he’d teleported off. “Looks better on her than off.”

 

Timeport shook his head. “No, Quota, she doesn’t deserve the skirt.” He briefly felt “the brunette”s, Jessica’s, leg quivering with fear as he teleported her skirt off.

“Animals don’t wear clothes.”