What Happened in The Dalles

[Mckeedee123 he/him]

It looked like it was going to be one of those nights. Er... or maybe mornings. It had to be around five, right?

 

No sleep. Not a wink. They'd given him ample opportunity, sure, but there was no way Crush was going to lie defenseless on the ground while a guard or his potentially homicidal cellmate crept up from behind and stole his glasses. People stole sunglasses all the time, didn't they? And orange ones were a special novelty, so they were extra steal-able. He might as well have been wearing an irresistable, ice cold glass of chocolate milk on his head!

 

Yep. Pulling an all-nighter was definitely preferable. Plus, he got to annoy the prison guards.

 

"Are you gonna let me go to solitary confinement yet? Preferably a cell with an extremely squeaky door so that I'll wake up if someone comes in? I can do this all night. All night. Aaaaall night. I'm not tired. Your strategy isn't working. I'm not closing my eyes for a second. Nope."

 

Crush's cellmate stirred. He was a middle-aged fellow with a patchy beard. In pre-Calamity times, Crush would probably have associated his dirty yellow T-shirt and ragged jeans with a homeless guy, but the calluses on his hands belonged to someone who did a lot of menial labor. Probably a farmer.

 

"At least give me a harmonica or a tin can or something. I've got a rockin' prison tune I wanna share with you. Hey! Don't roll your eyes at me. When I finally meet the goober who runs this operation, I'm gonna report you! I'm gonna report you so hard you aren't gonna know what hit you! I'm gonna say, I'm gonna say... 'Hi. I won't join your empire unless... 'Gary' gets boiled in a cauldron of molten lava.' Guess who's more important. Me? Or You? Yeah, that's right."

 

The guard, standing in uniform at the end of the hallway, ground his teeth. "Where do you even...?" He trailed off. "You do realize this town isn't even 'ruled,' right? There's no 'Epic in charge.' The Dalles is a free community under the protection of the United States Military. Epics don't get special treatment."

 

Crush blinked. That was new. "Free community, huh?" He pointed to his cellmate. "Homeless Guy here doesn't look free."

 

"He ran out in front of The Church and started screaming about how our soldiers didn't deserve to wear American uniforms when the town doesn't hold democratic elections."

 

"Huh. I guess that sounds about right."

 

The soldier's expression darkened further. "By keeping our government centralized and efficient, we serve our citizens far better than a pack of selfish politicians ever would. People who think otherwise... need to be contained."

 

"Well, it's not as if I care. I basically kill people for fun, right?"

 

The guard's fingers started to twitch towards his gun, but then he stopped and huffed. "I'm not even supposed to talk to you. Idiot."

 

Crush laughed. "Ah! I like that insult. Real clever. You should do stand-up comedy. In fact, you should have your own sparking show! I'll make up a theme song if you'll lend me a harmonica! Whaddya say?"

 

The guy clammed up and pointedly ignored him. Ah, well. Little victories. This was the first guard he had gotten to respond to him, even if all he had done was spout a cremload of rhetoric.

 

So as he opened his mouth and started belting out a badly parodied version of "Meet the Flintstones," he felt even more full of himself than usual. Maybe it was lack of sleep, maybe it was the fact that no one had tried strip-searching him yet, but either way, Crush was pretty darn sure that today was going to be a pretty great day.

Edited October 7, 2015 by Mckeedee123

[Fatebreaker he/him]

Quicksilver sat of his throne and considered the future. What it held for him and his men, for Vondra and his cardboard kingdom.

 

It was then that Busdriver came in

 

“Event said you wanted to see me, boss. What do you want to tell me off for this time?” 

 

Vondra did not turn to look at the pitiful excuse for an Epic. Of all the people to receive an evolutionary upgrade, Dave Ewles was probably the most baffling choice of all. Quicksilver considered ending him right then and there, but he was never one to waste a potential tool. Even pawns weren't meant to be wasted.

 

But they were meant to be sacrificed.

Quicksilver thought back to Shank, that paltry footpad who had made a use of himself only in dying. They had gained some mildly useful intel. It wouldn't have been worth it, if it wasn't for the look of fear on his face when he'd died. Quicksilver had watched the clip again and again, relishing the fear that had instantly carved it into Shank's face. It was delicious.

 

"Boss?"

 

Busdriver interrupted Quicksilver's train of thought once more, bringing him closer to death than he ever realized. Tendrils of silver metal had already twined themselves around his legs, but Quicksilver checked himself. Tools should be used, not eviscerated. Even though it was really tempting.

 

"Elwes, if your tone does not instantly become respectful I will peel the irises from your eyes and extract your nerve endings through your fingers. Understood?"

 

He could hear Busdriver as he froze in place not even breathing for a moment. 

 

"Of course sir, sorry sir, it won't happen again sir."

 

Quicksilver smiled a mirthless smile 

 

"No, I expect it won't."

 

A thin tendril of metal, no thicker than a hair rose from the floor, Suddenly it darted forward, burying itself in Busdriver's hand. The Epic cried out in pain, but he couldn't move his hand. Slowly, with painstaking detail, the tendril carved the word Respect in the back of his hand, leaving a thin trail of blood and wringing agonized cries from his lips. 

 

"That should help you to remember, Elwes."

 

The only response Busdriver gave was a  silent nod as he clenched his teeth against the pain. Quicksilver continued without bothering to turn around.

 

"I have plans for you Elwes. There are things I want to test concerning your meager abilities. The recent attacks on the city reminded me that the Slivers haven't had a real battle in some time. Laxness is the antithesis of effectiveness, and I will tolerate nothing short of effective perfection from my men. As such, I've decided to send the Slivers on a training exercise. This will also be a test for you. I want to see how effectively you can use your abilities in combat. This is your chance to be something more that a pitiful bus driver, this is your chance to become a weapon, a tool in my hand for me to use with efficiency most terrible. Are you willing to become that tool, Dave Elwes?"

 

The man's eyes were wide, the impact of what Quicksilver had said hitting him.

He opened his mouth to reply, but Quicksilver cut him off

 

"You  will meet with Shatterblast, Fritz and Platoon at the outpost where the new Epic is staying. Tell the girl that this is a test. If she does well, she will be honored with an audience. If not, then with an execution. The squad is to pursue the invading panda army and butcher them. Be bold, destructive, merciless. You will no longer be in my city, so restraint will not be necessary. Consider it a, holiday. But if you get captured, we will not come to save you. Now go, and tell Reflection to send in the prisoners I had requested. Unless of course, you'd like to stay and watch as I craft a message for our friendly neighborhood dictator?"

 

Busdriver's eyes went wide. He said something as he backed out of the room, but Quicksilver was no longer paying attention. He turned to the wall, contemplating recent events and future outcomes.

 

A few moments later the metal doors slid silently open and four figures entered the room. One was Reflection, expressionless and silent. The others were prisoners. Quicksilver had chosen them specially, for the impact they'd cause.  Vondra needed to be reminded that other epics wouldn't be allowed on designated Silver territory, and that even though the rest of the world saw the Dalles as a city without an Epic overlord, both he and Vondra knew better.

Or maybe Quicksilver was just bored.

 

He turned and surveyed the three miserable humans before him. They reeked of fear and despair as they gazed upon the hard lines of his face. He looked upon the first prisoner, a personel manager for Vondra. he sat and listened to Vondra's words, to his vile propaganda. For that he would be punished. 

 

"You three are to be a message to the Paper King, the man you call Vondra. Know that he cannot protect you, that you live under me, you serve me. Your town has fallen to wicked ways, to acts of rebellion and willfulness that displease me. As such, punishment is required. But you are fortunate. You have been blessed with the nomination to be my messengers. And you will carry this message: I hear, I see, I command. And I command thus."

 

As he said this last word he raised his right hand to his eye level. 

 

"Hear no Evil."

 

Twin streams of fluid metal snaked out and severed then manager's ears, then plugged the bleeding holes with metal ears, each one bearing the embossed symbol of a partially unsheathed sword in the center. The man cried out in surprise and pain, falling to the floor as he held his hands to where his ears had once been. Quicksilver's face was impassive as turned to the next in line.

 

He faced the second one, a pitiful civilian. Arnold Demingsworth was a school teacher, a rarity these days. He taught blasphemy, that humanity was meant to be free. For that he would be silenced. 

 

"Speak no Evil."

 

A tendril lashed out and ripped the man's tongue from his mouth, then replaced it with a tongue of silver, bearing the same seal. The man's muffled cries were cut off as he began choking on his own blood.

 

Quicksilver turned to the last prisoner. A city guard of the Dalles. She stood there, tears of rage and helplessness running down her face. She quivered, holding herself in check through intense will power. Quicksilver admired that. He was above all else, a professional. He regretted that she had chosen the wrong side, she would have been a marvelous asset. He looked down on her, his gaze ensnaring her eyes. 

 

"You have failed Jennifer. You have let two helpless citizens of the Dalles perish before your very eyes. You have failed to keep them safe. You. Have. Failed."

 

The girl's control broke and she flung herself at him with a primal cry. She threw a flurry of punches as hard and fast as she could, but they bounced Quicksilver with no affect. She cried and raged and hit, and hit, and hit til her knuckles bled. He watched her for a moment then casually reached out and wrapped his fingers around her neck, lifting her to his eye level. Then he spoke in a whisper.

 

"And now I have broken you. Nothing can save you, nothing can save them, nothing can save any of you. Go, Jessica Paisley of the guard, and See No Evil."

 

Water of silver flowed around his hand and onto her face, into her eyes. Without a sound, her optic nerves were cut and her eyes were removed from their sockets, replaced with eyes of  pure platinum. They were more detailed than any glass eye could have been, perfect replicas of the originals, but with one smell change. instead of pupils, there was a symbol of the sword, resting slightly out of it's sheath.

 

Quicksilver dropped her to the floor and turned to Reflection.

 

"Take them to the center of town and leave them there. I want to make sure that Vondra personally receives this message."

 

The prisoners were dragged out and Quicksilver returned to his contemplation. It had been and eventful few days.

Edited October 8, 2015 by Fatebreaker

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Part two of a collab between Aonar and I.

Ethan found himself having trouble focusing on what Emma was saying. He was tired, but it wasn’t just that. He’d used his powers more in the last few hours than he had in days, and it made him restless. Ethan wanted to move, to fight, to do something, anything. There was even a part of him that wanted to be Frostfire, to really be a High Epic, a divinity, an avenging angel, not just some guy; barely out of his teens and way out of his depth.

He also knew, however, just what that would entail. Anger, arrogance, apathy. He would change, become more violent, less caring, concerned with little more than destruction.

There’d been flashes of it throughout the day. Little instances where he’d nearly lost control. Almost killing that slontze Reader, the whole fiasco in the clinic, nearly going on the warpath when all that could possibly be gained was more blood on his hands, and not all of it deserving. It scared him, but that little, insistent voice in his head always questioned: ‘Why? Why not kill Reader? He was a slontze, barely worthy of his own miserable existence. Why not take charge at the clinic? You are more powerful and more competent than any of them could ever be. Why not destroy those animals? They hurt people under your protection. They hurt you. You had every right.’

With effort, Ethan turned his thoughts away, trying to piece together what Emma had said. A small frown had appeared on her face as he thought. “I’d imagine, yeah. Someone a little more cynically minded might think things would go the other way; but I suppose living under the constant threat of invasion tends to help one keep to practicalities.”

He paused a moment, a fleeting question coming to mind from the evening’s events. “Emma, if it’s not too much to ask-” -sparking sparkity sparks, Ethan, this is a bad idea, you’ve only just met this girl, why the Calamity are you digging into her personal life- “-what were you thinking about back there, in the woods? When I was starting to snap out of it, and you… you know. Started crying.” …Smooth, Ethan. Sparking smooth.

Emma could tell that Ethan was hardly listening to her. But, as she finished her sentence, his eyes refocused on her.

"I’d imagine, yeah. Someone a little more cynically minded might think things would go the other way; but I suppose living under than constant threat of invasion tends to help one keep to practicalities," he replied. Emma worried internally. Did Ethan care anymore? Or would he rather just sleep? She was about to propose leaving to find an official to assign him a room, but he spoke up again, momentarily sating her worries.

"Emma, if it’s not too much to ask-” Ethan paused, “-what were you thinking about back there, in the woods? When I was starting to snap out of it, and you… you know. Started crying." Evey. Emma clenched her teeth, willing her eyes not to fill with water. She took a moment to recompose.

"It was-I was thinking of the day when, you know, I got my powers," she stammered. "Some things happened and I lost control and I was furious at the world and I was confused and I killed my sister." I killed my sister. Emma had never put it in such blunt terms. Evelyn was still young and had been engaged, but Emma ruined that. She ruined futures. She couldn't get close to her parents again because she'd ruined their child's life. The tears spilled out, despite Emma's efforts.

Emma stood and wiped her tears. She managed to choke out a sentence. "Let's get you a room, okay?" She walked out of the bar, leaving a few dollars to cover the drinks, expecting Ethan to follow.

"It was-I was thinking of the day when, you know, I got my powers. Some things happened and I lost control and I was furious at the world and I was confused and I killed my sister." Emma’s voice wavered. Pain, sadness, anger and self-loathing were all unmistakable in her expression. Ethan wanted to say something, anything to try to help, but before he could she had already stood and turned away.

"Let's get you a room, okay?" She put a few dollars on the countertop, and left, her root beer untouched.

Ethan sat in shock for a moment, even as the Springfield’s door started to swing closed. Yup. You sure made a mess of that one. Making a mental note to avoid at all costs bringing that up in the future –at least, until he knew her well enough he might actually be able to offer some sort of comfort- he stood. After a moment’s consideration, he grabbed his soda and downed it quickly, before following her out the door.

---

Emma perched on the edge of the rooftop, watching the light blue door in the dark. Tears flowed freely from her eyes and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She didn’t deserve to wipe them away. She was a force of destruction and hurt more than she ever helped. Evey was her sister. She had been the kindest soul Emma had ever met. She always picked her up when she fell; she was the girl that intervened in any fight, regardless of how big the other guys were. Evelyn had stuck up for everyone and she had probably never said an unkind word. And I killed her.

How could she ever be normal again? Calamity had cursed her with these powers and she was bound to be a killer. Love wasn’t something Epics felt, was it? If it wasn’t, why was she here, watching over her parents house again? She never knew why she came here and watched the light blue door that had once been home. Emma debated endlessly as she sat on her perch above the door whether or not to go in. Her parents probably couldn’t stand her. What kind of deranged child killed their own sister? How Emma wanted to go home. She was barely even old enough to be on her own and she just wanted to go home and cry with her mom and Evey, curled up in the safety of her blanket in the impenetrable walls of home. But deep down, Emma knew her mother would kick her out as soon as she stepped over the threshold.

Emma watched as the door opened and a white bathrobe bent over and picked up the envelope Emma had placed there. It contained half of her month’s earnings from the Guard. Every month, she dropped it off and couldn’t bring herself to leave until she saw someone pick it up. Her mother stood back up and looked up across the street. Emma knew she couldn’t see her from her hiding place, but she swore her mother stared right into her eyes. More tears overflowed and Edgerunner flew off towards her apartment as the door shut. She dropped onto the ground the next street over and walked the rest of the way. Emma wouldn’t be like other Epics. She could love, she knew it. Emma still loved her parents, no matter how much they might hate her. Emma would fight to be a good Epic, whatever she had to do.

Upon arriving home, or at least her current home, Emma quickly showered and changed before lying in bed. As she drifted off, she thought of the day's crazy events. Pandas, fanatics, cults, Epics everywhere, a new crush, relived memories. Wake me up when September ends.

Edited September 9, 2015 by Mailliw73

[mail-mi he/him]

Respect.

 

BusDriver had plenty of respect. What he didn’t have much of was patience. That, and skin left on his right hand. 

 

Sometimes, he wondered why he had ever joined Quicksilver’s gang. 

 

You know why, slontze, he said to himself. Because Vondra didn’t want you. He already had Calamity-cursed Arsenal working for him, what use would poor little BusDriver be to him?

 

Shaking his head, BusDriver pushed open the double-doors and stepped outside...

 

...and immediately started to retch. “Sparks!” he cursed, averting his eyes from the decomposing squirrels. He reached into his pocket and charged a small pebble, then threw it blindly into the parking lot. In seconds, a shiny black limo bus grew on top of the squirrel corpses. Almost smiling because of his good fortune, BusDriver climbed into the bus and drove off towards outpost beta. Mistwraith had been told to stay there the night before, because Quicksilver didn’t trust new Epics. 

 

BusDriver pulled up to the curb and put the bus into park. Making sure to not accidentally turn it back into a lousy pebble, BusDriver hiked up to the door and knocked. A woman vanilla servant opened the door; her eyes pointed steadily at the ground. Without a word, she let him in, and stood by, awaiting his orders. 

 

“Go get the new girl, Mistwraith,” BusDriver growled. “Tell her I need to speak with her. And then bring Shatterblast, Platoon, and Fritz down when we’re done.” 

 

 

“Now,” Vapor Snake growled, pointedly shoving his sleeve back into his glove, “as low as your own opinion of your own company may be, compared to what you are demanding your insults are relatively minor. Which I’m afraid means we will have to be here for a bit of time.” 

 

I am not a liar, you subEpic. Reader thought as he let the room dissolve back into silence. To get a one hundred percent, full Reading out of you, it would be either five minutes completely naked, or one hour on just your face. His Reads got diminishing returns: at first, he received a wealth of information, but it slowly dwindled into a trickle as time passed, but the trickle was still new information. 

 

He looked again at Vapor, then at Autumn. He thought for a moment, and then realized the worst thing he could possibly do.

 

Let Vapor free.

 

Had Reader gotten a full Reading? No. Was he one hundred percent sure Jack was clean? No. 

 

Did he care?

 

No.

 

“He’s clean,” Reader said at last. “Free to go. You two can go on your romantic walk through the Florist’s garden, or what have you. I have work to do.” 

 

And with that, Reader walked out of the room and out of the prison, immediately being surrounded by his guards. 

 

Had he just released a monster into the Dalles? Maybe.

 

He hoped he had. 

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

 

Reader looked from her, to Jack, and back again with a look not unlike that of a child denied a toy. He stared at Jack for a moment, though whether he was Reading him or simply mulling over a thought, Autumn couldn't be sure. Seconds ticked by on Autumn's watch. 

 

“He’s clean,” Reader said after barely a minute had passed. “Free to go. You two can go on your romantic walk through the Florist’s garden, or what have you. I have work to do.” 

 

He stood, guards surrounding him. Autumn caught the eyes of one and they traded glances. Shortest Reading I've ever seen, that glance said.

 

So they got the same impression. It didn't put her any more at ease.  

 

Autumn hesitated. She should hail Reader. Flag him down and force him back in to describe precisely what he saw and how it let him evaluate Jack so quickly. But then, it occurred to her that he might not say. If Reader didn't feel like sharing his insight, he didn't have to. He could sit and smirk for half an hour, leaving Autumn with nothing more than an increasingly painful headache. 

 

Still, if Jack wasn't clean…..

 

Autumn turned to her notes and scribbled. ​Declared clean after less than a minute—less than a tenth the length of a typical Reading. Reader did not share his reasons, though the recording may hint at them. All additional evidence indicates Hayter has regained control. 

 

She read it three times, checking her wording. It didn't seem neutral in the slightest, but she couldn't think of a better way to get her point across. Oh well. Vondra had asked for her opinion, and it was her opinion he would get. 

 

"All right, then," she said, standing and gathering her notes. "We'll let Vondra review everything before he makes a decision." 

[Edgedancer he/him]

 

Reader was suspiciously silent after Jack finished and he didn’t look happy in the slightest. What followed Reader starring intently at him for about a minute was him simply declaring Jack clean and leaving.

 

It wasn’t exactly that Jack disagreed with that judgement but that didn’t mean he trusted Reader making this quick a call, especially after what Jack just told him. Knowing him he’d drag this out, even if he knew Jack was clean, just to pay him back. Then why did he end this so quickly? Does he just not care? In that case there was at least… it didn’t really change anything.

 

He glanced over to Autumn, who was brooding over her notes. Reader was a Slontze and his own opinion... had to be discredited, sparks he didn’t even know if being confident into himself would be a good or a bad sign, potentially both. Leaving only Autumn as someone whose judgement he could trust, he hoped that she would reassure him but the look on her face seemed barely any less concerned than his, which may be for the better.

 

Ultimately, she stood up gathering her notes and said, "All right, then, we'll let Vondra review everything before he makes a decision." 

 

He also stood up, “Alright then, if I may ask, what did you make out of Reader just taking a minute to declare me clean?” He tried looking at the bright side, if she was taking this to Vondra in the first place she probably thought he was trustworthy... or not confident enough to make the call herself. He shook that specific doubt out of his head, he may not be able to judge himself properly but that didn’t damage Autumn’s integrity.

Edited February 1, 2016 by Edgedancer

[FireSlayer she/her]

 

 

Skylar managed to smile reassuringly as she took the papers, flipping through them. "That's fine, yesterday was full of 'circumstances,' as you put it so well. Thanks for bringing these, though you didn't have to come yourself...." One entry caught her eye. "You have an Epic right now? Is she secured?" Elsa. Seriously? If Skylar were a betting girl she'd have bet Frozen fever wasn't a thing anymore. And she'd have lost her money, apparently. Sheesh.

Edited September 12, 2015 by FireSlayer

[Edgedancer he/him]

It was good to see that Skylar wasn’t holding Baxter being late with handing in his report against him. To be fair to her, she wasn’t the type to do so in the first place. Now her eyes fell on his first reason for bringing the documents in person.

 

Elsa.

 

Her reaction to worry whether or not the Epic was under a proper containment procedure rather than being concerned about the Epics wellbeing was natural, especially with one that came from outside of town. Baxter was the odd one out in that aspect but he couldn’t help but worry at least about some of them.

 

“That’s one of the reasons I came here in person, apart from checking on Reader,” Baxter said, “Elsa is under guard and I honestly doubt she could do much, even if they weren’t standing at the ready. She got shoot up rather badly after she… well I suppose she resisted arrest, although she didn’t seem like her intend was malicious.”

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

 

 “Alright then, if I may ask, what did you make out of Reader just taking a minute to declare me clean?”

 

He looked as uneasy as Autumn felt, if not more so, and she knew he wasn't simply asking her opinion. It wasn't unusual for Jack to ask her opinion on some thought or quandary he'd had—and he almost never disagreed with her answer. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, he'd consider what she said, nod, and thank her before putting her advice into practice. 

 

Jack didn't want idle thoughts. He wanted a conscience.

 

Autumn looked down at her notes, resisting the urge to bite her lip. Is he right? he was asking. Do you really think I should be free to go? 

 

She wanted to tell him yes, he was clean, ready to be reinstated. No problems I can see, she wanted to say. And Reader must not have seen any, either, if he let you go so quickly. You're fine. I don't think you'll lose control again anytime soon—if at all. 

 

But the truth was, she didn't know. She could guess, and her guesses were usually right….but simple empathy and a gift for reading people didn't grant the certainty provided by Reader's powers. 

 

"I don't know what to make of it," she said with a sigh, "and I doubt he'd say. I think you're clean, but I'll run the evidence past Vondra. Just to get a second opinion." 

 

Sparks.​ That sounded like an indictment if she'd ever heard one. "I'll show him everything, let him hear the recording," she said, shifting her notes. "But I don't think he'll disagree with me." 

[Edgedancer he/him]

 

It wasn’t exactly the affirmation he had hoped for but what could he actually expect from her in the given situation.

 

What was most important was the fact that she did believe in him, which was all he needed right now. Taking precautions not because she thought he’d loose himself, because then he wouldn’t be getting out in the first place, but because she simply was a responsible person. Not just blind trust but actually making sure he was safe, in more way than one. His safe anchor.  

 

Did he know he would manage because Autumn trusted him?

 

No, not at all… not even close.

 

What it did mean was that he had the best chances he could possibly have and more importantly it meant that he had to stay himself. He’d have to remain strong willed, keep in mind what’s important, stay away from temptation… and ultimately keep his wings clipped.

 

Jack set his collar, pulling it just a little bit higher. He shouldn’t think about the powers even remotely positive. They were a poison, sweet maybe, but poisonous first and foremost.

 

He forced his thoughts to the back of his mind and looked at Autumn, “Alright then, if you say so. I’d best give it my best shoot to make a good impression then, right?” Jack did his best to force an easy looking smile.

Edited February 1, 2016 by Edgedancer

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

 

Jack tugged up his collar, a sure sign he was either nervous, his powers were messing with his head, or both. “Alright then, if you say so. I’d best give it my best shoot to make a good impression then, right?” 

 

He tried for a smile, and she gave one of her own. Not that she felt like it. Reader may have just lied through his teeth, and if so, the consequences for his lie would land squarely on Jack's shoulders. Vondra would talk about punishing Reader, but his importance to town security meant justice often shrugged and passed him by. There simply wasn't time for a long prison sentence when the town was besieged from all sides. 

 

No, Autumn smiled because Jack needed it. If he wanted a chance at success, he needed to know someone thought he had that chance. 

 

You thought he could do it a week ago, said a nagging voice in the back of her mind, and look how that turned out.

 

Prison hadn't changed him. She held no illusions on that front. He still had the same demons, and they were just as strong as ever. All he had was a better grip, a tighter leash on those demons. 

 

It was still a step forward. 

 

"Just tell him what you told me," she said. "It'll be fine." You'll be fine.

 

Please, please let him be fine. 

[Shattered he/him]

 

"I'll kill you, scum!" Martin cried.

 

Eric dashed through Washington scrub and greenery, chasing after the Epic with Martin and five other people. He had no idea who this particular Epic was. He just knew that the man had sauntered into Goldendale earlier that day, looking like he owned the place. Soon after, Martin had discovered his wife, Emily, lying motionless in the street with bullet holes where her eyes should have been. Martin had snapped instantly, unslinging his shotgun and charging off to find her murderer. Eric and some other concerned friends had chased after him.

 

So here they were, sprinting blindly through the overgrowth, wildly pursuing the stranger after they caught his trail. It had led them into the local state park.

 

He can't be that dangerous for an Epic, can he? Evan thought to himself. I mean, he uses a gun. That means he's pretty weak, right?

 

He occasionally caught flashes of their quarry up ahead, maintaining his seemingly effortless lead. What was it about being granted magical powers from a giant red star that turned you into a long distance runner? Unless running was one of his powers.

 

Their shadowy target paused briefly.

 

Eric cursed as a loud crack resounded through the air and Jerold's head snapped backward, blood spraying over Eric, who had been running behind him. He almost stopped in the vain hope that he could save Jerold's life. He would have, if he didn't know for certain that Martin would get himself killed chasing after the Epic.

 

So he continued, almost tripping over Jerold's body as he continued his frantic pursuit of his friend, before that monster killed him. He jumped over bushes and ducked under branches, making sure to keep the threat in sight.

 

After an exhausting minute of full-speed pursuit, the trees broke into a clearing, revealing a structure in the middle of the clearing they had just entered. The local observatory. Eric didn't remember the last time that it had been used. The dome at the top was parted, leaving the telescope open and extended.

 

Momentarily distracted from looking up at the building, he turned his attention back to the ground and stumbled to a halt. The man they were chasing, the Epic, faced Martin. The gun he had used to kill Emily and Jerold was nowhere to be seen. He didn't seem to be concerned that Martin had trained his shotgun on him, and seemed ready to pull the trigger at any moment.

 

The Epic was relatively tall, with short black hair and extremely blue eyes. He seemed slightly overdressed for a chase, his jeans accompanied by a blazer.

 

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow you off the face of the sparking planet right now," Martin snarled.

 

The Epic's impassive expression broke into a smile, though he remained silent.

 

"You killed my wife, psycho!" Martin shoved his shotgun closer to the stranger, who mockingly put his hands up, a smile still stretched across his face. "Got anything to say for yourself?" Once again, the man said nothing. "Can't even come up with a reason to beg for your miserable life? Yeah, that's what I thought," Martin sneered, his face contorted by grief and anger.

 

"Is there a point to this interrogation?" The Epic suddenly asked, a slight British accent detectable in his voice. "Honestly, I would have thought that you would have 'blown me off the face of the sparking planet' by now."

 

"Don't think I won't."

 

"Oh, I have no doubt that you will try to kill me," the man said, still smiling, "but succeeding in that endeavour is going to prove a spot more difficult than you seem to think it will be. Do you know what Calamity gave to me?

 

"What?" Martin gritted his teeth, irritated. "The power to be sparking annoying?"

 

"Curiosity. And the strength and will to pursue it. Unlike you and your insignificant friends, I can do whatever it takes to find the truth." Somehow his smile grew even wider. "Wherever it may lie. It was for that reason that your wife-"

 

The Epic didn't get to finish his sentence. Screaming in rage, Martin pulled the trigger.

 

And blasted a hole in Anton's chest. His corpse slumped lifelessly to the ground.

 

Eric's breath caught in his throat. Martin's cry cut off into a strangled gasp. Everyone took a step back.

 

Except for the stranger, who stood exactly where Anton had been standing before he'd somehow been teleported directly into the line of fire. The man simply stood there, allowing everyone to look upon him in terror. Eric shifted his view, making eye contact with Martin. A silent agreement passed between them, and he waited as Martin managed to subtly communicate his desperate move to the others. The Epic either didn't notice or didn't care, simply standing silently, his eyes closed in exultation.

 

Then, as one, they charged. Martin, Eric, Jameson, Kimberly, and Old Rick, hoping against hope that this Epic's power couldn't protect him from a combined assault.

 

The man snapped back to attention, and before anyone could close the distance, in the blink of an eye he drew his gun from beneath his blazer and shot Martin, the round taking him in the shoulder and causing him to drop his shotgun. But soon everyone was too close for him to aim.

 

Jameson arrived first, swinging a right hook directly at the man's face. Then, seemingly in an instant, the Epic was replaced by Old Rick, who had been charging in behind him. Surprise registered on his face. Jameson's blow knocked him backward into their enemy, who mercilessly kicked him back into Jameson, knocking both men to the ground. The man pistol-whipped Martin, who had recovered swiftly and been waiting for an opening to fire, then immediately turned and shot Kimberly point-blank.

 

She collapsed soundlessly.

 

Eric stopped cold. He couldn't think of anything to do. He could only watch in horror as his friends were slaughtered. The Epic moved with brutal efficiency, finishing off Old Rick with a stomp, snapping his neck. Jameson received a bullet to the knee, dropping him, and another to the heart. Then the man quickly turned and delivered a devastating punch to Martin's face, who had been charging up behind him again. He dropped instantly.

 

The man paused, standing amid the bodies of Eric's friends. Then he looked directly at Eric himself. Frozen in terror, he watched the the nameless Epic's mouth curved into a smirk.

 

Then he turned and ran toward the observatory.

 

Cursing, wondering what in Calamity he thought he was going to accomplish, Eric charged after him.

 

***

The Epic dashed into the observation room, the door slamming behind him.

 

Eric stopped, gasping for air, and heard a loud clanging from behind. He turned back from the room to see Martin jogging toward him from the second floor staircase, shotgun in his hands and murder in his eyes. He gave Eric a passing glance and then looked past him into the room. He started forward.

 

"Wait!" Martin stopped. Eric took a breath. "Did you see what that thing did to everyone out there?"

 

"Yeah, I saw," Martin growled. "And I'm not going to let him get away with it."

 

"We're not going to get away. Not if we go in there!" Martin stood for a moment, then approached the room, shoving Eric out of the way.

 

"This has to be done." He yanked the door open and strode through.

 

"Oh, sparks, sparks, sparks," Eric, whispered. After a tense second, he ducked into the observatory room.

 

Martin stood at the entrance to the room, his shotgun trained on the Epic, who stood on the ledge of the open side of the room, the sky and surrounding forest visible. He had his pistol aimed directly at Martin. And he still had that insufferable smile on his face. That insufferable, confident, terrifying smile.

 

"This is it," Martin said, his voice low. "Nowhere to run." He shifted backward, regrouping with Eric. Bad idea, Martin, he thought. It allowed the Epic an easy route of attack on either of them, with his strange ability to swap places with people. What was Martin thinking? His move was going to get them-

 

He turned on Eric and pulled the trigger.

 

***

Martin looked away from Eric's corpse, chambering a new shell. He regretted having to shoot his best friend, but this man had killed his wife. He had to get vengeance, and having Eric with him would only have helped Emily's murderer. He sighted on that man again, his hands firm, his resolve unbreakable. The Epic's smile had grown wider. He was still aiming right at Martin, though.

 

"Nice move," he said appreciatively, gesturing toward Eric's body with the free hand. "I didn't think you had it in you."

 

"I've let you stall for too long. You're going to tell me why you killed my wife, and then I'm going to kill you."

 

"Isn't it obvious?" The Epic's lips curved upward slightly. Martin readied his gun. His finger tightened on the trigger.

 

"Tell me!" The man's smile grew wider. He lowered his gun, barrel pointing at the floor in one hand. His next word, though spoken softly, echoed in the small room.

 

"Curiosity."

 

Then he jumped off the ledge.

 

Martin stood in the room, stunned. Then suddenly he was tumbling downward, air racing past his face.

 

He screamed.

 

Darkness followed.

 

 

Blindside strolled through the room, ducking under the large telescope to reach the ledge formed by the hatch in the domed cap structure. He peered over the edge, and was able to spot the crumpled form of a man on the pavement below. Blindside drew his SIG P210-2 - his pride and joy - and shot the body a few times for good measure. With an amused shake of his head, he went back inside.

 

It had definitely been the right move to Swap that townsman directly into thin air. Blindside congratulated himself on his dramatic accomplishment as he entered the room and looked at the telescope. Well, at least this little trip wasn't a complete waste, he thought.

 

***

Strolling out of the park observatory building, Blindside noted the corpse on the pavement that he had shot from above.

 

Then he noticed the man standing above it.

 

He was a rather unkempt fellow, clad in ragged pedestrian clothes. His blond hair stuck up erratically in red-tinged spikes, and Blindside noted with dissatisfaction that the stranger was slightly taller than him. His eyes blazed with a manic intensity. And... are those bloodstains on his arms?

 

He had already noticed Blindside, his predatory grin directed right at him. Slightly unnerved, Blindside inched his hand toward his SIG, which was tucked inside his blazer. Swapping was not nearly as effective in one-on-one fights as it was against large groups, and he was certain that this stranger was an Epic.

 

A voice from the man halted his motion.

 

"Remember Frequency?" His voice put an end to the deafening silence. "He's got a job for you."

 

Blindside processed this new information. Frequency, eh? How long has it been since we went all bolshie?

 

Frequency's associate waited for an answer. The man had sent an Epic all the way to fetch him. It must be important. What job could Frequency need doing that would require Blindside's specific skill set?

 

"Interesting," He mused aloud. "Very interesting..."

Edited September 22, 2015 by Shattered Logic

[mail-mi he/him]

 

Stormcage, Reader thought as he stepped into his church for the first time that day, is much too far from my church. Especially since he had to walk the whole way--Arsenal wouldn’t provide him any mode of transportation, of course, since that would be a “waste of valuable city resources.” Even though he could simply sparking make ten other cars appear out of thin air. 

 

He rolled his eyes as he stepped down his hallway. His guards were more lax in the church, seven of them having been stationed throughout it with only two tailing him. A 24 year old, Skyler was his name, ran up to him. His teeth showed braces as he spoke, braces he’d had for 8 years since Calamity claimed the earth. He’d never been able to get to a doctor to get them off. Even Reader--who had been subject to braces in his youth--felt a little pity for the man. 

 

“We’ve got a whole bunch of new Epics for you to Read,” Skyler said, “and--”

 

“--and I’m going to have to spend all day in my office Reading them, with a few good bottles of wine I hope,” Reader said pointedly. 

 

Before Skyler could say anything else, Reader heard a faint conversation coming from down the hall. “...although it didn’t seem like her intent was malicious.” 

 

Just the man I wanted to see. Reader shoved the little man out of the way and made his way towards Baxter’s voice. “Doctor Game!” he said when he saw the older man standing in Skylar’s doorway. “I presume you’re here to haf a look at this annoying little problem?” Reader pointed at his pulsing red nose. 

Edited October 13, 2015 by mail-mi

[FireSlayer she/her]

 

Not malicious. Yeah sure. There wasn't really a way to tell, was there--oh wait, there was (supposedly), and why did the doctor need to check on him anyway.... Well, speak of the devil. Reader himself stood in the doorway, nose swollen and inflamed like Rudolph's. Rudolph the red-nosed Reader...blast, now Skylar had the song stuck in her head. No, girl, you're not writing a parody on the clock, save it for later if you must write it at all.

 

“Doctor Game!” the Epic said. “I presume you’re here to have a look at this annoying little problem?” His voice was a bit more grating than usual thanks to his injury. 

 

"Just a moment, please, Reader, I'm not done with our good doctor yet." She managed to keep her tone professional before turning back to Dr. Game with a smile. "Well, as long as you think she's contained for now, I'll trust your judgment. Just let us know when you dismiss her so we can take over from there, all right?"

[Edgedancer he/him]

Baxter’s conversation with Skylar was briefly interrupted as Reader entered the room. His nose indeed didn’t look very healthy from what he could see. Not something that wouldn’t heal properly but he would have to set it straight again before it had a chance to heal into its currently crooked shape. Hopefully the bone wasn’t shattered.

 

Before taking a closer look at the nose Baxter finished his conversation with Skylar, returning her smile. “I’ll do so. She will still have to undergo security measures after all. My floor also ended up with a bullet hole in it. I would be grateful, if you could send someone on the matter.”

 

With that he turned to Reader, “Well then Reader, you're right your nose needs to be looked at. We should probably move to your office to get some privacy, while I examine your nose. You might also want to sit down.”

[Mckeedee123 he/him]

8 years ago, Washington County, Arkansas

 

Orange Crush smashed open the door of the cabin, allowing light to flood in and illuminate the vanillas hiding inside. He summoned a force field to block any bullets that might be fired at him and examined the room's occupants.

 

A man. A woman. Two kids. No quarry. Sparks. Did he get the location wrong again? That happened sometimes.

 

But no. The man holding that shotgun did bear a passing resemblance to Elizabeth. This was her family, which meant she was probably here. Crush dropped the field and lifted himself up onto the roof.

 

And then smashed through it, landing in the center of the room he'd just left. As the insulation fell around him, Crush summoned a ball of orange light and spun it around, breaking limbs and knocking the shotgun out of the man's hands. He deliberated for a moment, then shoved the ball forward into the woman's face, pasting her brains all over the wall. Screams. Bliss. He yanked the fallen shotgun towards him with a plane of orange light.

 

"Alright, folks. I'm pretty sure you know who I'm here for. You obviously can't kill me, so could one of you just be a peach and tell me where she is?" He chose the older boy, age eleven-ish, and began strangling him by lifting him up with a collar of light around his neck.

 

The nine-ish kid was screaming hysterically. Not helpful, kid. The guy, on the other hand, attempted to stand up and tackle him, something that was kind of difficult with a broken leg. He gave them a few more seconds to cooperate, though he didn't actually expect them to wise up. He sighed, then threw the older kid onto his father and began focusing, imagining a circular blade of light, sharper and sharper as he went into more detail. He pulled it into existence, then whirled it around, beheading the whole lot. The room became covered with streaks of blood.

 

Silence. There was nobody left to make any noise.

 

And then... a faint squeaking, like a sliding door being opened. Crush grinned, smashing through the far wall to reveal a kitchen, complete with family photos, portable gaming systems and refrigerator magnets from Crater of Diamonds State Park. The sliding door had been left open. Crush examined the pantry, not feeling any need to hurry. There was a certain game to killing, after all. He might as well let the object of his hunt get a head start. He took a swig of chili. He'd have to come back here after he killed Liz, maybe snatch a 3DS if it still had any power left. These people were kind of rich.

 

From the patio, he could just barely make out a little red hoodie running through the woods. That'd be her. Last person on his kill list. What would he do with his life once he was done with this whole business? Probably move back to Texas and take over a small town.

 

He lifted himself up and sped forward, accelerating rapidly. Within seconds, he had passed her. He dropped onto the ground and gave her a good look at him.

 

Liz was about his age, very pretty. Really pretty, actually. For a second he considered... but no, getting physically involved with people was dangerous for him. He made an orange collar around her neck instead and lifted her up into the air.

 

"Yeah, sorry it has to end this way, but I just couldn't letcha live. You know too much."

 

She made a confused gurgling noise, pretty much all she could manage as he choked her.

 

"Well, you don't know what you know, but you do know it, you know? No?" He smiled at his little joke. Homonyms were funny, right? Well, Lizzy didn't seem amused, anyway, but whatever. She was about to be dead, so it didn't matter. He started walking back to the ruined cabin, pulling her along in the air beside him.

 

He gave it a good twenty seconds or so. "You know? I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel kinda bad about this, though. I sorta wish that no one had to die, but the problem is... I'm a good person." She stopped struggling, running out of air. It looked like she was seconds from death.

 

"The greatest person, in fact. Greatest sparking person on earth. No one can ever seem empathize with my narcissism, though, so I guess you'll just have to trust me. It's for the greater good. Goodbye Elizabeth."

 

Crush snapped back awake. What'd just happened? He had... he'd fallen asleep! He fumbled for his face, checking for the orange-tinted lenses that protected him from ruin. Still there.

 

No nightmares tonight, thankfully, just... his rending. Or pseudo-rending, perhaps. His actual rending had left him feeling rather unfulfilled. There were still so many people who'd known about his weakness that he'd felt compelled to finish the job. Two months of tracking down and killing his family, and four more for his schoolmates. Witness Protection had tried hiding them about halfway through month two, so he'd had to torture the information out from that point on. The Capitulation Act had put an end to that whole mess, and the last few killings were actually pretty easy.

 

But sparks. Liz. He'd forgotten about what he'd said at the end of her... murder. Had he really said he was good? Ridiculous.

 

He was lucid again. That happened sometimes when he hadn't used his powers for a while. The narcissism wore off, and... well, it was a painful experience, to be confronted with who he really was.

 

He could brood in this state. He could think about his actions and determine which of them were wrong. He could make promises to himself that he knew he couldn't keep. Or... or he could just give up.

 

Slowly, he raised his hand and summoned a ball of orange light to illuminate the cell. Immediately, his heart stopped sinking. He smiled to mock the ruminations of his pathetic state earlier. Who was he kidding? It's not as if anyone was any better than him, morally.

 

So that's how they found him, that morning, when they came to take him to Reader's office. Grinning stupidly in the faint glow of one of his force fields and asking if they were offering a free continental breakfast.

Edited October 7, 2015 by Mckeedee123

[mail-mi he/him]

 

Reader grumbled as Baxter stepped away, finished with the job. It felt like his nose was even more on fire than it had been before, but at least he could breathe through it now. Without a word, he waved his hand and dismissed the Doctor. He didn’t say thanks; not bringing up Game’s dream from last night was thanks enough. 

 

Skyler poked his head in the door. “Sir, one of the new Epics is here to see you,” he said. 

 

“Bring him in,” Reader said, then reached down and grabbed an unopened bottle of wine from the cooler below. “And bring me some more glasses.” 

 

Back to work as normal.

A cloud of mist made its way down the stairs following after the servant BusDriver had sent. 

 

Sparking girl, BusDriver thought. 

 

Mistwraith reformed as a person, holding a sword that was much too large for her. She didn’t say a word. 

 

BusDriver sighed. “Quicksilver wants to test out our powers,” he said. “I’m supposed to tell you that you better pass, or else...” He pulled his thumb across his throat and made a cutting noise with his mouth. “Got it?” 

[Kobold King he/him]

 

 

The Dalles moved quickly out the truck's window, like a gray pinwheel being spun around and around. For all the city's virtues it was hardly known for its distinctive landmarks--nor was Vondra known for slowing down to sight-see when Epics had stepped out of their place.

 

Rhonda watched the gray city whiz past, largely ignoring the anxious commander sitting in the front seat. Not that there was much to ignore--Vondra didn't pester the tired soldier doing the driving--but there were much more interesting things to look at than Vondra staring at the vehicle's dashboard as if it were deliberately trying to spite him by moving too slowly.

 

Instead, she opened her tablet and reviewed her reason for living.

 

At the very front of her files were a series of photos--photographs leftover from her studies in days gone by. Some were in black and white, others color. Some had come practically free, while others held a hefty price. What they held in common was a matter of content: each one showed a dark god in its natural habitat.

 

One showed a man with godlike physique floating above a tower of solid steel, cape flapping in a wind rushing from below him. Another showed a tall shirtless man sitting upright in a beach chair as if it were some kind of throne--he'd merely be a melodramatic sunbather were it not for the sword leaning against his side and the thick Bible in his lap. The pictures went on. A woman in the hide of a polar bear, sleet and hail pouring around her. A woman in a glistening dress of pure crystal, a disinterested yet somehow still snobby look on her face as she stepped atop a rising diamond spike. The newest photo in the collection, a blurry snapshot of an enormous winged panda soaring above The Dalles amidst a sky of dark clouds.

 

All were creatures that could singlehandedly reduce the city to rubble and scorched skeletons if they wanted to. Commander Vondra knew them as well as Rhonda did, but he refused to see what their existence meant. He continued to stubbornly cling to the idea that the City Guard alone could protect the town from the new rulers of the planet--sparks, the man had personally challenged one of them in the air with a helicopter that might as well be tinfoil against the greater Epics. The truth was right in front of him, but he refused to acknowledge it.

 

The world was filled with demons, and it was only the bound devils in his service that kept the city's walls standing against them. The day he forgot that would be the day the people of The Dalles saw their homes burn around them to the cackling of a force of nature gone mad.

 

Well, Rhonda didn't forget. When the final unstoppable demon came hurtling into town, there'd be at least one devil standing by to stop it in its tracks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The truck pulled into the central square of the city, and Vondra was the first to step out. A few guards immediately came to his side, but he was uninterested in their salutes, meeting their gazes with a glare like hard iron.

 

"Where are the victims?"

 

The victims were three in number, scattered across the plaza with teams of medics scurrying around them like termites. Vondra felt his blood pressure rise when he recognized them on sight--Anthony Decker, one of his personnel managers, Arnold Demingsworth, one of the last qualified schoolteachers in the city, and Jennifer Kennings, a soldier who'd been defending this city from the very beginning all those years ago.

 

A lieutenant with a bloodied lip and a fatigued expression arrived by his side, saluting before launching into a crisp explanation. "Three victims, each with varying degrees of dismemberment. They were all listed as MIA during yesterday's assault--we hadn't seen hide nor hair of them until they were dropped off here early this morning."

 

The lieutenant sighed before leading the commander to Decker's side. "No one saw who dropped them off, before you ask. All we have to go on is the symbol."

 

Vondra raised an eyebrow, but then he caught side of gleaming metal around the bloodied bandages on the sides of Decker's head. His ears were solid silver, emblazoned with the image of a long sword sticking partway out of its sheath.

 

"Quicksilver," he breathed, clenching his fists in anger. The Dalles' resident serpent had finally come out of its burrow.

 

Decker didn't hear his commander's voice, nor did his eyes seem to see him. He was trembling slightly, staring off at nothing in particular--according to a nearby medic, he was still in shock. Vondra made a note to call the man's family and moved to the next.

 

Demingsworth the teacher was in a similar state, though the man somehow managed to smile as his commander approached. Vondra matched the smile with one of his own, with a firm handshake and salute of respect passed between them. No words were spoken. According to the lieutenant in a hushed tone, Demingsworth would speak no words ever again.

 

Finally there was Sergeant Kennings, sitting with a red stained bandage wrapped around her eyes. Vondra gave a questioning glance at his lieutenant, who only nodded solemnly. If he were to peel back that bandage, the same travesty would meet his sight.

 

"Sir," Kennings acknowledged, apparently hearing his footsteps.

 

"Sergeant," Vondra responded, giving a nod that the blinded woman couldn't see.

 

"My family. Will they be looked after?" the woman asked abruptly, staring in the general direction of Vondra's voice.

 

The commander gave a tight smile--again, a gesture Kennings would never see. "Sergeant, you and your will be provided with all the honor due to a wounded soldier and her loved ones. Consider yourself honorably discharged--I'll file out the paperwork before noon."

 

Surprisingly, Kennings gave a crooked smile of her own. "Please, sir. You'll make the others jealous." Her face evened, and her tone became grim again. "This... this was a message, sir. A message from Quicksilver."

 

Vondra frowned. "I guessed as much. Epics can't just use words, though."

 

"There were words." Kennings swallowed hard, bowing her head low. "He quoted an old proverb. Something biblical I guess. 'Hear no evil. Speak no evil.' The slontze thinks he's some kind of prophet."

 

Anger flushed up from within him, and his fists clenched again. "If he wants a crusade, we'll give him one."

 

Kennings didn't respond for a moment, and the commander started to move on. Before he'd taken two steps away though, her voice spoke again. "Sir, please allow me to remain on duty. I don't care if it's pushing buttons or talking on a telephone. Just let me keep fighting." Her voice sank to a grumble, but Vondra made out the words "not broken."

 

Vondra looked at the woman in surprise, but found himself slowly nodding. "We'll find something. If that's what you wish."

 

The sergeant didn't speak again, and Vondra felt his legs carrying him away from the trio of mutilated citizens, and towards the stern-faced man lurking at the very edges of the plaza.

 

"Good morning, commander," said Arsenal stiffly.

 

Vondra raised an eyebrow at the old man, feeling another flush of rage. "Good? I take it you haven't read Quicksilver's message?"

 

Arsenal refused to meet the commander's gaze, staring out over the sunlit street. "I know who delivered it."

 

"Three of the people we swore to protect."

 

"No. The man who delivered them," Arsenal amended, turning back to the commander. "Look."

 

The old man took a crisp sheet of paper out of his uniform pocket, handing it to Vondra. Turning it over, it revealed a series of photos of a middle-aged Asian man in a black truck, showing his image in fine detail from a dozen angles as he dropped off the captives and tied them to lampposts.

 

The images really were in fine detail...

 

"Sparks, Daniel," Vondra muttered as he turned over the sheet. "How many cameras do you have in this square?"

 

"Not enough," the chaplain replied stiffly. "If I'd had cameras on every street, I could have traced the truck back to its origin. As it is, all we have is a face to track."

 

Vondra didn't respond to the criticism. He was too angry--furious at Quicksilver, furious at his own inabilities, and most of all, furious at Arsenal for being right.

 

Quicksilver needed to be fought, but there was no way of touching him. Unless...

 

"Sir," the gravelly voice continued, softer than usual. "We both know we can't let this stand. Let me go on the attack."

 

Vondra met Arsenal's eyes with a cautious expression. "What do you intend to do? Have a camera in every house and every room? Monitor every citizen in the city twenty four hours a day?"

 

"If necessary," Arsenal replied. "Until then, door-to-door searches would do wonders towards narrowing down his possible lairs."

 

The commander didn't respond.

 

"If Quicksilver were powerful enough to overwhelm us by brute force, he'd have done so already," Arsenal pressed on. There was a curious note to his voice--not his usual grumpiness, but something more akin to a passion. "All we need is his location, and we could have him dead with a single assault."

 

The pair of them were silent on the street for a minute, sirenless ambulances arriving to cart away the victims of Quicksilver's message.

 

"If I give you full power," Vondra said quietly, "This town becomes a totalitarian state. We'll have exchanged all of the Epic tyrants out there with one from within."

 

"Sir," Arsenal replied curtly. "You deny it, but The Dalles was a dictatorship from the day you declared martial law. Neither of us were elected. Before yesterday, we'd seen more opposition from our own chaotic citizens than we'd seen from Epics. The laws we upheld are dead. If you hold too tightly to them, you'll go the same way--and I promise you that Quicksilver or Lucentia or that storming panda will have far less respect for your laws than even I do."

 

Vondra met the Epic's eyes, cold fury meeting an old man's stiff determination. A long minute passed, before Vondra turned again to the ambulances now leaving the plaza.

 

A sword halfway drawn from its sheath. What would happen when the sword was drawn in earnest?

 

"Destroy that man, Daniel," Vondra whispered. "Him and every last servant in his employ. But if you ruffle the slightest hair of one of this town's innocents, then there won't be a bleeding star in the sky that can protect you from me."

 

Arsenal gave a cold, tight-lipped smile that managed to be less genuine than the blinded sergeant's had been. "Oh, I stopped thinking there's anything in the sky looking out for me a long time ago." He pulled a radio from his pocket, expression becoming grim once again.

 

"We're going to war now, commander. Let's make sure we use every last sword at our disposal."

 

 

 

 

Deathwish had been punched twice this morning, which made grand promises for the rest of the day.

 

He walked and occasionally floated alongside the strict Guardsmen flanking him on both sides, making his way steadily to the town's HQ. In between bouts of telling off-color jokes and asking about his guard's sisters, he rubbed his slightly aching jaw and scowled.

 

Who knew a bleeding blind chick could still throw a punch? I wasn't even gonna touch her long.

 

At least the lieutenant who got mad enough to punch him after the fact actually had the arm strength to break his lip. Edgar Hawk had been cursed as well as blessed--he could reflect all the bloody strikes and punches from heavy guys, but a hot chick would still leave a painful slap. One would almost think Calamity was a prude.

 

The guards brought the quietly contemplating Deathwish into HQ, depositing him in the hall outside Vondra's office and instructing him to stay put. Deathwish replied with a mock salute as the nutcrackers filed out, leaning against a wall and wishing he'd thought to keep a gentleman's magazine in his pocket. It would be just like Mayor Vondra to keep him waiting just to prove a point.

 

Then he saw someone else waiting outside the office, and realized waiting wouldn't be so bad.

 

She was a tall woman, with a head of red hair and nice skin she didn't seem scared to show. She wore tight jeans, a low cut blouse, and a pair of jewel-like sunglasses that made her eyes impossible to track. There could be no doubt that this wasn't a prudish vanilla like Autumn or a simpering half-Epic like Edgerunner. This was an angel.

 

An angel with a very nice bust.

 

Slicking his hair back with one hand, Deathwish sauntered to her side and caught her attention with a quick brush on the bum.

 

"Hello there, your majesty," he smirked with a wink. "You're Epic on at least three counts, but I bet the old man doesn't care about the best two."

 

In case that was too subtle, he let his eyes drop down to her cleavage for a noticeable second.

 

"What brings you outside an unappreciative old fart's door?"

[Edgedancer he/him]

The guards Shiny Sparkle dragged along as her escorts were adorably shy about how she pressed their arms against her chest as they walked towards Vondra’s office. Teasing darlings like them is just a joy. If there wasn’t a stuck up dictator waiting for her, she’d like to take the time and properly snuggle up to one of them.

 

Sadly, the two took their exit rather speedily after they arrived before the door to Vondra’s office. Without that nice company she had to wait… and waiting she did. This wasn’t even a matter of prudishness; keeping a lady wait this long was simply bad manners. Now if she could have kept one of the guards as company this would have been much more pleasant wait.

 

Her thoughts were drawn away from possible courtship rituals involving nice muscled soldiers, by a clumsy touch to her rear, lacking all of the proper groping technique something this well-shaped deserves. Still, Shiny gave him the benefits of the doubt. It could have been one of her darling soldiers, working through his nervousness and daring a venture into for him unknown territory. She certainly wouldn’t mind showing him the shores, if that was the case.

 

However, with dreams like that reality turned out to be rather disappointing. The unskilled groper was the sleazy biker type; you’d take up for a quick ride and nothing more, and probably that Deathwish guy that was supposed to participate in the battle against those cult wimps yesterday.

 

She found his flirting after that mostly amusing. It reminded her of a school boy having discovered the wonders of sexuality but not yet worked through the hormones enough to tell that those cute females needed to be properly worshipped, which also marked him as the type whose ride ended especially short.

 

Putting on the same kind of smile one would use for a little puppy that just messed up but was still proudly wiggling its tail, Shiny Sparkle pinched his cheek. “I appreciate the regards given to my epic assets, trust me they deserve every good word said about them, but I’m sorry sweetie. It would be one thing if you were the virgin type but I only let the predator type take a turn if I think they are experienced enough to properly satisfy me,” she gave him a consolatory clap on the cheek. “Better luck next time.” 

Edited January 22, 2016 by Edgedancer

[Comatose he/him]

 

Taylor stretched, manually relaxing all of her muscles, causing the tension brought about by her nightmares to vanish instantly.  After checking the newcomers housing for any sign of Brandon, Taylor had quickly decided to such accommodations were hardly adequate for a super star like herself.  Instead, she had wandered the streets until she found a nicer neighborhood, and the house in which she now resided.  The owner of the house, and the comfier than average bed Taylor was sleeping in, was lying dead in the bathtub in the master bathroom.  Hopefully today, Taylor would be able to find a proper way to dispose of her.  

 

Serves her right.  After a thorough search of the premises and a lengthy interrogation of her victim, Taylor had discovered that the woman did not own a single one of her albums.  What was the point of life if one could not listen to "All to Well" on a rainy afternoon or "Shake it Off" on a sunny day?  

 

"Open up!"  Taylor altered her cute ears, enhancing their ability to pick up sound.  The pounding on her front door, which was likely what had woken her up, continued, and a stern male voice repeated his request for her to open the door.  

 

Sighing, Taylor walked to the door, shifting her appearance to match that of the homeowner she had killed.  After a moment of thought, she added some dampness to her brown hair, and a towel to cover her skin.  

 

"Sorry for the wait, officer," hearing the woman's pitiful voice in her own throat reminded Taylor of all the senseless pleading the night before.  Thank goodness that was over with.  "I was in the shower, and didn't hear you at first.  Is there anything I can help you with?"  

 

A second officer stepped in to take charge.  "Please step outside ma'am.   We have orders to search the premises."

 

Taylor's eyes widened with shock, which she hoped would be appropriate under the circumstances.  She had been careful last night, closing all the windows, and gagging the woman until she promised not to scream.  Could The Dalles Guard be on to her all ready?  "Outside, but I'm not dressed..."  

 

The second officer, who was obviously in charge, scowled.  No doubt the pair had some sort of deadline to stick to.  Her eyes flicked back and forth between her male partner and Taylor's barely clothed body a few times before coming to a decision.  "Fine then, I'll come up to the bedroom with you, but you are not to leave my sight, understand?  Oliver here can search the main floor."  

 

Taylor nodded blankly, doing her best impression of shock while she planned her next move.  The male officer, Oliver, split off and began searching through the kitchen cupboards, while Taylor led the female officer upstairs to her new bedroom.  

 

"Now be quick about it," the officer said.  She was clearly annoyed, perhaps because she saw this search as pointless?  Yes, the boredom in her voice and the way she phrased her words seemed to indicate this was not her first search of the day.   Perhaps this was some other matter, completely unrelated to Taylor.  "Sweats and a t-shirt will do."  Taylor watched as the officer's eyes slid to the master bathroom.  "I'll check in there quick while you change, but I'll be leaving the door open, so don't leave the room or try to move anything.  The better you cooperate, the sooner this will all be over."  

 

Taylor nodded sullenly, turning to the dresser as the officer headed to the bathroom.  Her enhanced ears could hear the sound of the other officer still searching the main floor.  It sounded like he was in the living room now, which meant that Taylor didn't have much time.  

 

As the officer's hand turned the knob of the bathroom door, Taylor shifted, growing eyes in the back of her head, and two tentacles out of her back.  One tentacle snaked towards the bedroom door, closing it gently so as not to make the sound, while the other buried a barbed end in the female officer's throat.  

 

Taylor shifted her appearance again, mimicking the female officer exactly, uniform and all.  The officer's eyes widened as blood poured out of her, staining the formerly pristine carpet.  Her hand, already growing weak, reached for her gun, but Taylor moved faster.  She heard the satisfying snap of the officer's wrist as she brought her heel down hard.  

 

"None of that," she said, adopted the officer's own gruff no-nonsense tone.  "A shame we didn't get to know each other better."  A new barbed tentacle sprouted out of Taylor's chest, lashing out to stab the woman in the eye, putting her out of her misery.  Taylor set about frisking the body, ignoring the blood staining her fake clothing, which she could always shift to make clean again.  After appropriating the woman's identification, wallet, and weapons,  Taylor took a deep breath and headed down stairs.  Oliver met her at the bottom.  

 

"I finished the main floor," he said.  "No sign of anything.  You ready to scare another lonely widow?  Or is their more to do upstairs."  

 

Taylor shook her head.  "Nah, she's clean.  I left her to finish up in the bathroom. And listen, the next time the door is answered by a woman in a towel, try not to look so pervy.  The last thing we need is to have to wait for every woman on the block to pick out the perfect outfit."

 

 

[Mailliw73 he/him]

"You too, Ev?" Emma whispered. Her sister laughed at her tears and shook her head.

"Of course, Emma. You're too weak. What guy would like you?" Evelyn tossed her perfect hair over her shoulder as she walked off with Emma's boyfriend, or who she had thought was her boyfriend. Her sister had betrayed her. She had thought Evey was the perfect sister, but now she saw through the visage. Evelyn was just strong enough to get what she wanted. Emma went home, hiding her tears.

When her mom came up to get her for dinner, she saw the makeup stains on Emma's face and asked what happened. Emma told her how Evey had stole her boyfriend, tears running down her face all over again. She waited for her mother to sit down and console her, give her a hug and tell her it'd be okay. Her mom just stood there for a minute, then her face contorted into an ugly face of anger. "Emma, how could you? Your father and I gave you and Evelyn everything. Evey knows how to use what she's been given, but you, you just wallow in your own self-pity. How could you be so selfish and weak?" Emma sat in shock, tears frozen at the brim of her eyelids.

"You are ungrateful, selfish, and lazy! We should never have had another child after Evelyn. Our life would be so much simpler and happier without you, mooching our happiness and hard work for your own pleasure. The devil's own daughter, you are," Emma's mother continued her rant. "Get out of our house, now!" Emma stood up, slowly, still in shock. Her mother? Mommy? Evey and now Mom? How? She walked to the door, her tears edging to the border of her lashes. "And don't come back. You aren't a Runes anymore. Never again." Emma walked away from her house and as she sat in one of the Dalles' small alleys, her pent-up tears finally spilled over, the barrier of shock finally worn off. She wasn't wanted. Her mother hated her and Evelyn had betrayed her and she didn't deserve to live.

Emma climbed to the top of the apartment building she had been sitting next to. She broke through the locks on the roof door. She walked out on the roof, cold autumn wind biting through her sweatshirt and leggings. She walked over to the edge almost in a daze. Emma looked over the edge. Evey, I'm sorry. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, tipping off the edge of the building and hurtling to the ground below.

---

Emma woke with a start. Her heart was pounding and her pillow was damp. The nightmares never ended, not since that day. But worse than the fake feeling of betrayal from Evey in her dream was the deeper truth of her guilt of being the one who killed her. It wasn't Evey's fault, or her mother's, or anyone else's. It was Emma's. All Emma's. Her parents could never, would never, take her back after that, right? How could they? How could they look their daughter in the eye and see anything but a monster? The one daughter had taken the life of the other, Evey's blood still staining Emma's heart and she knew her parents would see that. Her mother especially, never failed to discern Emma's state of mind. Emma glanced out the window and saw the wreckage of the battle with the pandas the day before. She thought of the lives she might've saved by destroying the mutants. She thought of how she had talked Ethan out of his killing spree. Yes, she was a monster, but she could channel her anger and fear to be a monster, a weapon, directed by Vondra and by the Dalles' innate goodness.

She cleaned herself up, took a quick, but hot, shower, and dressed, quickly eating a bowl of cereal. She spent as little time in this small apartment as she could. Being here just reminded her of her real home. The one she couldn't go back to.

---

Arsenal was in HQ, giving orders through his radio, as always. "Sir, I'm here. Where do you want me?" Emma asked, devoid of sarcasm and mirth. She didn't feel like giving Arsey a hard time right now. She was having a hard enough time of it herself right now. Edited October 28, 2015 by Mailliw73

[mail-mi he/him]

Mistwraith smirked. 

 

Calamity-cursed High Epics. BusDriver had perfected the art of grumbling mentally over his years of being “blessed” with these sparking bus powers. 

 

“Fine. I suppose.” Mistwraith used some of her floating mist to form the shape of rolling eyes. “Let’s get going.” 

 

BusDriver huffed. Finally. He turned to the servant girl that was still standing there humbly. “Go get Shatterblast, Platoon, and Fritz. Tell them Quicksilver wants me to take them somewhere.” She nodded quickly and ran back up the stairs. 

 

BusDriver waited impatiently for her to return. Mistwraith seemed to be having fun turning random parts of her body into mist and twirling it all around the room. He envied her, slightly. As much as he envied every High Epic, or, well, any Epic that actually had a useful power, not just sparking bu--

 

Someone knocked on the door. BusDriver froze, and Mistwraith seemed not to have noticed. 

 

“Open up,” a bored-sounding male voice outside the door said. “I’m here on official Dalles City business.” 

 

BusDriver scrambled for some way to deal with this. Any way. 

 

“Open up or I will be forced to break through this door!” 

 

Swallowing, BusDriver put one hand into his pocket, stepped up to the door, and opened it up with the other hand just a small crack. “Yes? What do you want? I’m busy here.” 

 

The man, Cayden by his badge, didn’t even bother to look him in the eye, instead staring down at the clipboard in his hands. “I just have to complete a quick search of the premises. Mayor’s orders.” He finally looked up. “If you’d just step aside and let me in, I’ll be able to have the search done in minutes.”

 

BusDriver didn't step aside. “What exactly are you searching for?”

 

The man breathed out just slightly. “That is classified information. Though I’m sure you’ve heard of the attacks on the town, and the victims left in places with various bits of their bodies replaced by metal. I can tell you it has something to do with that. Now, sir, please step aside so that I may search the building.” 

 

BusDriver couldn’t stop his eyes from widening slightly. They’re looking for Quicksliver. And if they were looking for Quicksilver...

 

They’re looking for me.

 

“Um, I don’t think...” BusDriver started, though he didn’t know what to finish with. He wasn’t very good at lying. 

 

The man narrowed his eyes. “Sir, please step aside.”

 

BusDriver didn’t move.

 

The guardsman stepped up and started to push against the door with his shoulder. “Sir--I--just--need--you...” he said between breaths, then looked over BusDriver’s shoulder. BusDriver stole a quick look back as well, and saw something that horrified him.

 

Mistwraith was still playing with her mist. 

 

The guardsman still seemed confused for a moment, then realization settled on his face. “Is she.... Sir, are you hiding an unregistered Epic? Sir, I--”

 

BusDriver clenched his eyes shut and cut him off. “You know, I really didn’t want to have to do this.” Opening his eyes, BusDriver swung the door open. The man stumbled in from the force he’d been pushing against the door, giving BusDriver his opening. 

 

He activated the pebble in his pocket and forced it into the man’s mouth. 

 

The man’s eyes widened in confusion and shock. BusDriver clamped his hand over the man’s mouth and grabbed the man’s neck with his other. He slowly forced the man out into the front yard, mentally counting down the time until the pebble would transform. 11, 10, 9,... The man struggled against his hands, but it was futile. BusDriver might have been old and grumpy, but he had grown up with a father that had taken him to work out for at least two hours every single day. Not for the last time, he silently simultaneously cursed and thanked his diseased father. 

 

...4, 3,...

 

BusDriver shoved the man to the ground and backed away towards the house.

 

....2, 1.

 

The man didn’t even have time to scream, nor did BusDriver have time to look away. He covered his eyes and grimaced, but it was too late. A yellow school bus, one that he kept with him for times he needed to drive out of town, grew out of the man’s head at incredibly quick speeds. 

 

BusDriver turned back to the inside of the house to see Mistwraith watching out the door with interest, and the servant finally returning with the three Epics. 

 

“Get in,” BusDriver grumbled. “We have to leave. Now.” 

Edited November 9, 2015 by mail-mi

[mail-mi he/him]

 

They brought the Epic in before the wine glasses.

 

Typical.

 

“Skyler,” Reader said to the guard, “I wanted the wine glasses before the Epic. Now I’m just going to have to tell your daughter how much you hate her obsession with those decrepit Barbie dolls. They’re pretty creepy, am I right?” 

 

Skyler glared at him, but saluted all the same and stepped out to retrieve the wine glasses. Excellent. Reader turned to the new Epic. 

 

His name was Orange Crush, a forcefield Epic. Reader stared at him, drinking in all the information he could. He could feel Orange starting to get quite uncomfortable. 

 

Sure enough, Orange flashed a smile and introduced himself. “Hey there, bud. The name’s Crush, and I’m an open book. What exactly were you planning to ask me again?”

 

Reader stayed silent, and kept boring into Orange’s eyes--well, glasses, but the principle was the same. 

 

“S’cuse me?” Orange said. 

 

Reader sighed. “Shut your trap Orange or you’ll be meeting the wrong end of those guards’ shotguns.” 

 

Orange recoiled and pointedly closed his mouth. Just then, Skyler came back in with two wine glasses in his hand. He set them down on the desk and backed away from the interrogation. Smiling, Reader pulled a wine bottle out of the cooler beneath the desk, uncorked it, and poured himself a glass of blissful purple wine. He purposely did not fill the other glass. 

 

Reader leaned back and started sipping at his wine, staring thoughtfully at Orange yet again. He was enjoying feeling the awkwardness waft off of him in waves. 

 

Orange opened his mouth again. “Look. I know I’m pretty but--” 

 

Reader cut him off. Time to get this started. He had all the useful information he was going to get. 

 

“Orange? That’s what you choose?” Reader shook his head sadly, setting his wine goblet on the table. “You’re a joke, Josh. Did you seriously center your entire look around a color you don’t even like?”

Edited November 15, 2015 by mail-mi

[Mckeedee123 he/him]

"Where did you...?" Crush coughed awkwardly. "Well, you know. It's... it's not really a... well, it's just my thing, you know? Like, Paul McCartney has Hey Jude, and Mexican restaurants have creepy plates hanging on the walls. You don't see Goodyear hating on blimps, do you? Well, same thing with me. Eh, I don't mean to be pushy here, but can I ask where you're getting your info? It's... it's really in-depth, apparently, and..."

 

Interrogator-Guy smirked and tapped his forehead.

 

"What do you...? Aw, sparks. You're an Epic, aren't you?" Mind reader, probably. Try not to think about your weakness. Wouldn't want to have to kill this poor gentleman.

 

"So... Josh. What can you tell me about a person named 'Nerves'?"

 

"Uh... mental illusionist. I traveled north with him. To here. In Oregon."

 

"Have you been in contact with 'Nerves?' Do not lie to me." Interrogator-Guy pulled out a handgun and laid it out on the table, pointed at Crush, officially upping his threat-factor to 10. “People don’t end up happy when they lie to me--just ask Steven.”

 

"Uh... Nope. Pretty sure he joined a cult."

 

"Did your group include any others?"

 

"There were... two others, maybe?"

 

Interrogator-Guy narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.” He clicked the safety off of his gun. Threat level 11.

 

Orange Crush raised his arms in defense. "Woah, hey. Give a man a second to count. I thought 'shoot first' was a maxim for cops, not... whatever you are." He paused for a moment. "Okay, it was a while ago, but I remember their powersets, I think. Are you familiar with... Outlaw? Then there was... Slick and Pops. The first was some sort of faunamancer, then Slick could shoot oil out of his palms. And Pops... oh man.  You want him on your side. Trust me. He can make snacks appear out of thin air!. Travelling with him was awesome." Just thinking about it made him smile.

 

Interrogator-Guy nodded to a secretary, and the fellow jotted some notes onto a clipboard.

 

"Have you been in contact with any of these other Epics?"

 

Crush said nothing for a few moments, prompting Slontzey-Interrogator-Guy to cock his handgun.

 

"Uh... Slick's in the area. He's kind of been wandering around ever since Nerves went crazy. No meaningful exchange of information, though. I dunno where everyone else is." He shrugged.

 

"What cities have you been to since you separated from the group?"

 

"No cities. Just the wilderness. It's cool out there. You should go. Completely sparking nuts." Interrogator-Guy was starting to look angry again. Really? What did I do this time? Oh. "And Salem. Spent a few months there. It didn't really work out."

 

"I see... so-" Suddenly, Interrogator-Guy bolted upright and gave him a wicked grin. "Oh. Ha! Now I get it. The driving force of your life is inadequacy."

 

What? Where did that come from?

 

"I think you're right. I think that everything is your fault. I think that you could control yourself, if you really wanted to. But I don't think you will. You're too weak. Too weak to even bother to build up your willpower to the point where you could stop killing."

 

Uh... 

 

Great. He knows I'm at the end of my rope.

 

Say something. Don't just sit there gawking. There has to be a half-decent response to this.

 

But no, there isn't. Interrogator-Guy pulled this chain of thought straight out of my crazy, manic-depressive mind. Secretly, Crush was... sort of glad. At least someone knew that he was willing to acknowledge how awful he was.

 

Interrogator-Guy was also a jerk who didn't gave a spark about Crush and his self-worth issues, so perhaps it wasn't all that great after all.

 

Say something. This'll ruin your rep with these soldiers! Just try to play it cool, for Calamity's sake!

 

"I... look, I really don't know what you're talking about."

 

Interrogator-Guy snorted. "Don't lie to me. Oh, hey! I know why you wear those glasses."

 

Cold. Crush froze like an popsicle. Time itself froze. Bad. Oh, very, very bad. The interrogator knew his weakness.

 

The room had six soldiers. More would be outside. The interrogator had a gun, but by the stupid way he was smirking, Crush was pretty sure it would take him a few seconds to respond. He could do it. Probably. Summon a blade under the table and then behead everyone in a quick blur. Smash the roof and escape before anyone outside could do anything about it. Could he do it covertly? Kill the slontze who knew his weakness and then not leave? Probably not. This would be the end of his adventures in The Dalles. It would be back into the woods for him. No judgement, no fear, and no accountability. Just him. He took a moment to appreciate that, then slowly formed the blade under the table. Make it sharp. Find a single, fluid motion that will kill everyone in the room. There. He whipped it out halfway.

 

Sparks, man! What are you doing?

 

Sparks! He was killing again. Sparks! Why did this always happen? He dissipated the blade, but not before one of the soldiers shouted in alarm. Yep. I'm sparked now.

 

"Sorry. You touched a nerve." Calamity, guys. Please don't shoot. I just saved your lives. Well, in a manner of speaking.

 

"Apparently." The interrogator busted out laughing. He hadn't noticed a thing. Moron. Well, good. The soldiers were pointing weapons at him now, of course, but the tension was gone. He wouldn't die today. Probably.

 

The interrogator leaned over to the secretary. "He has this big, disfiguring birthmark right in his left eye. Been hiding it all his life. Can't blame him."

 

Wait a minute... "I don't actually think it's all that important," he ventured.

 

"Yeah, I'm sure you don't. Now, could someone pour me another glass of this stuff?"

 

He doesn't even know. And... Of course he doesn't! Only an obsessive paranoiac like me would jump to conclusions like that. Calm down, Crush buddy. You're good. Just don't startle those soldiers again.

 

"Now, what do you know about Salem's military? Tell me everything I don't already know..."

Edited November 21, 2015 by Mckeedee123

[Kobold King he/him]

Something was wrong.

 

Colonel Carney leaned back in the patrol car, trying to put her finger on it. Obviously things were wrong in The Dalles as a whole. Just that morning her colleagues had shown up tortured and mutilated, and the day before an army of sparking panda bears had nearly overwhelmed the city by sheer force of numbers. Now they were on a city-wide manhunt for what amounted to the Epic mafia.

 

And yet, listening to the status updates rolling in from the few houses in front of her, Carney knew something was amiss.

 

Then she realized. It was her job to realize. A single failure to realize the obvious could spell the city its doom, which was a principle the Guard's command knew very well.

 

Of all the status updates rolling in and being logged on the record, one was missing.

 

Cayden.

 

 

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

 

 

"Cayden is unresponsive."

 

The words had struck Sergeant Moore like a whip, but no time had been wasted in his response. He and five other soldiers were in the truck in an instant, and now were pulling up beside a gray beaten-down building in a sparse district of the city.

 

The dumb slontze better actually be dead, causing this ruckus, Moore thought irritably. If we get another round of status update drills from the old man at HQ because of this, I'll--

 

His train of thought derailed as he swung out of the vehicle, spotting a bright yellow school bus parked outside the building in front of the doorway. Things met his eyes, and for a strange moment he found himself wondering why the bus seemed so polished and spotless when everything else in the city was rundown and decrepit.

 

Then his mouth fell dry as he spotted the body in urban camo lying stiffly with its head under the bus, in a pool of its own blood.

 

Immediately the squad raised machine guns in unison, barrels pointed at an old man rushing several other people into the bus parked over Cayden's corpse. The man seemed terrified at the sight of them.

 

"Man down!" Moore reported through his radio, grinding his teeth before raising his own gun with a finger inching the trigger.

 

"Freeze, or we will shoot!"

 

The shout hung in the air for just a second, before gunshots sounded from beside him and Moore lived his final moments.

 

 

  

 

The city was alive with activity.

 

Despite the stress and his advanced years, Arsenal couldn't help but find it invigorating. He stood in the command center among rushing aides and crackling radios, around urgent voices coordinating search teams and bright monitors visualizing all searched parts of the city.

 

The city was big. Small as far as cities went, even smaller since Calamity, but still big enough to make the Guard's task in sweeping it a long and arduous one. Arsenal would speed the process if he could, but he was content with how things ran now. He found that a part of him liked envisioning an increasingly panicked Quicksilver watching the inevitable come to him, wondering whether to make a mad dash for freedom or risk facing the strong arm Arsenal had been preparing for this very day...

 

His reverie and organizing was briefly interrupted by the sight of Edgerunner entering the room. His face creased into a frown like usual, but he found something different in the way she walked and carried herself. She was stiff yet slouched, and made her way straight to him as opposed to her usual meandering stroll.

 

"Sir, I'm here," the girl said, stopping short in front of her commander. "Where do you want me?"

 

Arsenal nodded approvingly at her; a rare gesture for him, but he wanted to encourage the girl's new found work ethic.

 

"We have begun sweeping the city for Quicksilver's faction," he began crisply. "You will accompany search teams in suspect areas, lending your support if needed in the event of--"

 

His radio crackled to life dramatically, the strained voice of one Colonel Carney coming through. "Carney to HQ. We have engaged renegade Epics. Renegades currently fleeing the area in a yellow school bus on Liberty Street."

 

Arsenal frowned. Epics already? Either the search parties had gotten lucky early on, or Quicksilver had more forces sprinkled through the city than he'd anticipated.

 

Either way...

 

"Change of plans, Ms. Runes. I believe you are needed on Liberty Street."