TwiLyghtSansSparkles

Welcome back to everyone's favorite game show, Let's Torment Backtrack! Up next is Autumn Glass who—get this—has no idea how little Backtrack really knows about Koschei! Will he lie down on the sidewalk and burst into tears, or will he simply follow in stunned silence?

Autumn had never really considered how little she knew of Epics. She knew how to work with them, sure. How to navigate their moods, how to tell when they were bluffing about a hidden secondary. Most often, they were; Reader made certain no power remained hidden for too long. But when it came to their personal lives, to who they were before Calamity, Autumn had to admit she was in the dark. Epics never talked about their former lives, and she had taken it as a given that she was not to ask. They had them—Hannah Game and Lucy Lockser disproved the aliens theory—but that subject was as taboo as weaknesses. Epics, even fragile ones like Reader, were above humanity, beyond their pasts, and they insisted upon being seen that way. So to hear Backtrack speak openly, if hesitantly, about his days working in a 7-11, fleeing town and working odd jobs, was like hearing a cat share his opinions on the difference in taste between sparrows and mice. It was unexpected. Not unwelcome, or uninteresting by any stretch, but certainly unexpected. She listened on two levels. The first picked out any relevant information, dissected it, and filed it away. Can see the past, working for a resurrection Epic named Lightwards, here to find someone's dirty laundry. The second, deeper level was where she heard the humanity behind his words. Not Backtrack, past-seeing Epic, but whoever he was before Backtrack surfaced. The small, fragile man who knew he wouldn't survive in San Francisco. Who stayed alive through odd jobs. Who was currently an errand boy for a resurrection Epic, one he seemed to fear as much as anyone in town had ever feared Koschei. Who had been dragged into town, shot, and subjected to scenes from a conquest Autumn was glad to have missed. He didn't sound like an arrogant Epic with the whole of human history at his fingertips. He sounded human. She was about to comment on how he must have seen some terrifying things, if he'd watched Koschei's brief attempt to carve out a kingdom he called New Eden, but he changed the subject again. "Uh... how far until we get to... 'til we get to your healer?" Autumn felt her face settle into a mask of disapproval. I'm going to have to speak to Vondra about this "healer" business. It doesn't accomplish anything but scaring away all the visitors. Still, Reader would know if she didn't play along, and if he wanted to make Backtrack think they called their doctor a healer, so be it. "He's not far," she said, opening the double doors to a rush of cool air and muted sunlight. Tanks and UAVs ferried soldiers through the streets. Those not on active duty locked their homes and businesses, drawing thick curtains over the windows and beckoning others inside. Bill and Jordan clutched their weapons, and Autumn quickly checked to ensure her revolver was fully loaded. "We can walk there," she said, leading him and the twins down the concrete steps. "Just do everything he says. This invasion's bound to make him nervous." A quick glance revealed far more fear on Backtrack's face than a simple visit to the doctor should have warranted. ​A few bad experiences with human doctors, maybe? One with a vendetta against Epics? "He's not that bad, though. Honestly. He likes kids." She felt a sharp pang when she remembered Hannah. Remembered the note. I'm sorry, Mom, Dad. I didn't want this. Ever. I know there's no way to fix it, so I'm leaving before I can hurt anyone. Please, please don't follow me. "Sorry," she said again, knowing a sorrowful cast had shadowed her face but unable to do anything about it. "He…he really likes kids. You'll see."

With unforeseen consequences (Calamity's turn you evil, while Santa's require a fat man to break into your home in the dead of night).

This must be placed in the "What is Calamity?" thread, elevating it to theory status.

The mistletoe isn't always easy to spot, but the soldiers always seem to find it. This has led Reader to write many letters to Calamity, requesting clairvoyance for Christmas. He has concluded that Calamity would make a terrible Santa.

What if at the promotion ceremony, Terry is allowed to ceremoniously punch Reader in the face, announcing to everyone that he is now above Reader's torment?

I support Terry Bloom as a viewpoint character. Maybe he goes 300days without punching Reader in the face and gets promoted to personal bodyguard....with the added bonus that Reader isn't allowed to torment him? Serving with distinction in the panda invasion makes a lot more sense.

How about "He likes kids," followed by a sorrowful expression when she thinks of his missing daughter?

If it does, it wouldn't be part of the in-game continuity at all. Definitely an AU fan-fanfic.

I see your three-book series and raise you a three-book series and a TV show. Edit: Early on in his conquest, Koschei might have ignored Backtrack—but it would have had to have been very early on. At any point after Remington's escape (around the time when The Dalles went to war) Koschei would have liked to recruit someone like Backtrack, who could track where Remington had been and what his plans were at the time. He would think of Backtrack as a scrawny weakling, perhaps barely worthy of being an Epic, but one useful enough to keep alive until he had proven his worth.

I would read 300 pages of Lightsong trolling Lightwards. I'm not quite sure how the logistics would work out, either. Unless…Backtrack got his powers several years before Koschei tried to conquer The Dalles, didn't he? What if it were an AU scene where, after fleeing north, Backtrack winds up in The Dalles right as Koschei is attempting his takeover? That sounds like Altermind.

By the way, Kobold, Backtrack's terror inspired me in a really weird way. I think we should write a scene where he actually meets Koschei. Not in a memory, or through hearing about him, but he walks into a room and Koschei is there. Expecting him.

Only if Funtimes can be Inigo. If I went to a strange city where I thought a psychopath ruled, I'd be more inclined to cry in relief than call whoever told me he was dead names. He can manage it. You can do it, Backtrack!

Hey, cloaks are awesome. Like masks, I think everyone will be wearing them in the future. It's….it's kind of like starting a trend. Not sure how you do it, but it just kind of happens, and it's pretty cool. I find it somewhat amusing and almost sweet how a little abject terror makes Backtrack so much friendlier. I have a feeling it won't last long when he realizes their "healer" is neither immortal nor wearing a circlet.

Edgedancer, what is Baxter Game's personality like? By which I mean, would it make sense for Autumn to call him "good at his work, but tread lightly; he hasn't been the same since he lost someone important to him," or to insinuate that he can be somewhat cranky and isn't pleasant when he's in one of his moods? Alternatively, is he secretly a LARPer, or does he sometimes wear a cloak out on the town just because? I guess what I'm trying to ask is: what traits could Autumn describe to Backtrack that might be interpreted by our favorite past-seer as "OH GREAT NOODLY ONE HE'S GOING TO SLIT MY THROAT SHOULD I CALL HIM YOUR EXCELLENCY OR YOUR GRACE?"

Thanks. He seemed like the type to lose it over deep-fried sugary goodness.

(He will always be Jeffrey to me. ) There. New Autumn post up. Hope that was enough to scare little Backtrack.

Backtrack was far more nervous than he should have been. He was small as Epics went, and seemed to have just the one power. Nothing that would help him in a fight, unless he happened to relive a few martial arts classes. He might be able to learn one choke escape in the span of a single class, though mastery would take much longer. Still, he was an Epic. He should have pushed Koschei's death to the back of his mind by now. Started up a pompous history lesson. Or a disturbing one. Anything to make her feel weak and insignificant. Instead, he hesitated. Stood in the church doorway and looked as though he would rather bolt into the recesses of the church than go to the doctor. Stammered "But" a few times before following, looking for all the world like a dog with his tail between his legs. Why is he so jumpy? She was about to ask what was wrong when the realization struck. Portland. The turf wars. Backtrack must be working for one of the High Epics laying claim to territory. A resurrection Epic, maybe? That would explain why Koschei's death scared him so badly. Watching the Deathless die had shaken her to her core. How much more for an Epic tasked with carrying out another immortal's orders? Don't let them get too arrogant. Vondra's orders cut through her growing pity. He was right, of course. An arrogant Epic was a murderous Epic, and the more they were reminded of the town's savior, the less arrogant they could be. Usually, a trip past the Springfield—a club catering to Epics on their off hours—was reminder enough. If it didn't lie in the opposite direction of Dr. Game's office, she would have led him there. It was good for him, she told herself. Good for him to know Epics didn't always win. That even the Deathless was bound to the same law as everyone else. Still, the way Backtrack glanced nervously around as though hoping a soldier would leap from the nearest house and lead him in the opposite direction….she wouldn't admit it to Vondra or any Epic in town, but it made her want to give him a hug. Before words of encouragement could tumble out of her mouth, Backtrack opened his. "So, uh…how long have you worked for…for…" Commander Vondra, she nearly supplied, but he covered his lack of knowledge quickly. "How long have you worked for The Dalles?" Odd way to put it. "I've been with the City Guard for going on two years now," she said, keeping one ear turned to the radio clipped to her belt. "I used to be a minister, back at the ranger station on Mount Hood. Nothing official, of course, but—you know—my dad was a minister, taught me some of the deeper theology along with the basics, I took it with me when I got hired, and when the other rangers decided to start a church, I guess they kind of looked to me when they needed help finding God." She smiled. "I'd always tell them, 'God's everywhere, all you have to do is look and he'll show up.'" She stopped, allowing a small group of soldiers to pass before rounding a corner. "We were all different denominations. Don't know how familiar you are with that, but it was kind of a big deal back in the day—Baptist vs. Catholic vs. Lutheran. You get the idea. Since there were maybe three rangers from each one—me and my brother Addison were the only Baptists—we kind of cobbled together a church of our own, and everybody brought their own songs, their own traditions." She smiled again. "I never knew what a beautiful holiday Hanukkah is before I met Rachel, but…" Autumn trailed off, remembering a menorah in a darkened window, laughter ringing through the main area as a dreidel spun. The pang of homesickness, which left her alone when she thought of her childhood home in Cottage Grove, pricked her. Maybe she could return someday. Rejoin their little church and maybe bring a few others along. You're needed here, she chided herself. "Well, anyway," she said, ending her foray into the past, "I came here after—" She had been about to say After Koschei died, but an all-too-familiar voice crackled over her radio. "A reminder from Daniel Dewhickey. Being invaded by weaponized pandas is not an excuse for forgetting established protocols. Nor is it an excuse for losing all sense of order and sanity. Thank you." Arsenal. Complaining, as usual, about some nonexistent breach in protocol. Everything was a breach in protocol to that man. A pumpkin donut in her hand had once earned Autumn a lecture on the importance of displaying dignity and a "united front" to the troops. Not surprisingly, he had declined her offer of an extra donut. He's human, God loves him. Besides, if you could conjure tanks from thin air, would you be any less arrogant? It was a sobering thought, and enough to keep her from contradicting his orders over the radio. She might challenge them later, when the threat—weapons shaped like pandas, apparently? Epics sure came up with some crazy schemes—was dealt with and the city safe once more. When their competence, yet again, proved him wrong. With a smile, she returned her attention to Backtrack. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ramble. You're from Portland, correct?"

This has been Incredibly Unlikely Plot Twists with TwiLyghtSansSparkles. Tune in next time for the truth about Timeport, Upgrade, and the Kennedy assassination.

You mean....you want me to ship him with a nuclear warhead seconds before it detonates in space so that if the explosion doesn't kill him, the icy cold airless environment will? Well, if you insist....

It'll happen. Don't worry.

If you take it completely out if context and forget everything you know about Nighthound, it could be a joyous proclamation of a love struck man who just went on a fabulous (non creepy) date with his soulmate. In context, it's extremely creepy.

Take out of context, I think that's one of the less creeptastic quotes from him--though that isn't saying much.

Maybe offscreen, he politely asked where the nearest gas station was? Don't ask why he wanted to know.