Ataraxian Wist

Nate had just stepped outside of the bakery, and was finishing the last of the eight bagels he'd purchased, when something down the street caught his attention. "What the...?" He wondered aloud. "Destination Doughnuts? That's an unfair name. Just glad I didn't notice it before I ate, or I might have overdosed on sugar and let the monster out." He shuddered. Last time he had eaten more than a serving of ice cream, he had never ended up finishing it. He had started policing peoples 's calories by Bloodlighting them to keep them from ever actually eating their ice cream. Granted, they had been perfectly pleased with him when they weren't busy phasing their spoons through the table or cutting - and regenerating - their suddenly weak mouths with them. That part had been painful. Nate realized he had been saying parts of that thought out loud, and quickly slammed his mouth shut. It was easier to keep quiet when he was thinking about memories than when he had to process new information. It was not any easier to contain Bloodlight, however. He got even more distracted by remembering things than talking, which left him prone to silly accidents. He had to exercise constant vigilance, or he'd stub his toe and turn Epic. "My boots are not in good repair. I mean, they're great boots, but I don't know when I'll be able to find another pair. I'll take the Saab to be safe. Traffic is so light, that's actually safer. Nice change." Carefully pulling the key to his red 9000 Aero from the front pocket of his jeans, he unlocked the door, climbed in, and started the engine. "I love that sound," he said as the engine roared to life. Nate drove the few city blocks between the bakery and Destination Doughnuts, then parked the car. Climbing out, he noticed something he hadn't before: the door to the doughnut shop had been completely thrown from off its hinges, and was lying amid pieces of its glass front between him and the counter. "Bother. Gotta save the shoes." He grumbled, stepping carefully around the glass shards so as not to slide one under his foot and slip and fall to the ground, where the corpse of the door awaited him, bearing keys to unlock the cage that was his body and let out the monster he held there. "No need to get all poetic now." He turned his head sharply to find the source of the voice that spoke so knowingly to the the things in his head. Then he realized it had been his own voice, and his mouth still remembered the shape of the words coming out. Clamping his mouth shut so as not to appear insane - which he was definitely not - Nate finished moving into line. There were three people in front of him. Nate looked at the doughnuts in the display case as he waited his turn. "Maple. Ha!" The man in front of him - not quite six feet tall, probably forty years old with a brown goatee and full head of neatly styled hair - chuckled at his joke. "If there were also some vanilla flavor that would be quite ironic," the man commented. Nate was about to ask how the man knew that term for non-Epic people, but one look at his face - specifically his reaction to what Nate's own face must have looked like - told him the man had already said too much and would not speak further on it. Nate nodded to show that he respected that, and returned to his mumbled inventory of the display case. "Glazed... Bacon? Chocolate frosting... Pink frosting with sprinkles... CHOCOLATE-CHOCOLATE..." Nate had decided. "One of those pink ones, with the sprinkles," the man in front of him said, then put some money on the counter and walked away. "Must be a regular," Nate mumbled. "How can I help you?" The man behind the counter asked. "FOUR-HUNDRED-THOUSAND CHOCOLATE-CHOCOLATE DOUGHNUTS!" He said excitedly. Then he realized how much sugar that must have meant, and that he was not that rich, and that his stomach physically could not hold that many doughnuts, and that... He had said it alone. He looked around for Celia, but couldn't see her anywhere. "But she always says that with me..." Nate suddenly realized that the man behind the counter was giving him a funny look. "Or, ya know, just two. That will do." Nate purchased the doughnuts and looked for a table to sit at. In a matter of moments, he had gone from cheery - albeit cautious - hopefulness to a familiar sense of despair that he knew the pastries would only worsen. He had always gone out for doughnuts with Celia before. "And coffee, of course, though I generally didn't drink any myself because that was too risky." He hadn't noticed before, but he suddenly realized that there was a peculiar texture to the air at the table behind him. As if... One of those Japanese cartoons - "an-ih-may" he recalled - had somehow been superimposed on reality. Nate noted, after a moment, that it was also affecting his table, and stretched even farther behind him, but the epicenter was definitely a girl at the table where he had first noticed it, with painfully - but also awesomely - bright purple and gold hair. "Epic," he thought aloud. "And wait... Is that a girl?" He was thinking softly, but he was sure one of them must have heard him by now. He wanted to bolt, rather than stick around and see what An-Ih-May Epic did. Unless they were a Canceler or an Assumer, he could probably take them, and he could even take the casualty count down by a significant amount, but... Well, he was in all likelihood more dangerous to the civilians as Bloodlight than she was. He was? They were. Nate was sure they'd noticed hi now. If not An-Ih-May Epic, then surely one of their companions. There were three others at the table, including a bearded Canadian man, - at, least, if the stereotypes were at all accurate - another man who did not look like a stereotypical Canadian, and a young bright-eyed woman with curly black hair. "Might as well introduce myself, with how long I've been staring at them," he muttered through his doughnut. He swallowed, walking over and extending his hand to An-Ih-May Epic - whose gender he still could not determine to save his life - since they were the one who'd probably have felt his eyes boring into their head. "Hey, noticed your, ah, aura. Pretty cool." He stammered. "I'm-Nate-please-don't-kill-any-innocents-right-now."

Interested, yes. That said, I'm not sure how soon I could really start, or if it's realistic at all once I add college classes to my schedule. I'll let you know though.

Yeah. That would be great. I only made it through a third of it. EDIT: Twi made this. I've moved it here so we can find it later.

And they all didn't live happily ever after. The End.

I am certainly interested! However, I haven't the time just yet, because it's already devoted to the Reckoners RPG and I'm going into a busier season.

Here's are my newest three: Fated to leave, answers given; questions given answers left to fate. (I have no idea what that one means, admittedly) Secrets unveiled, never to wield like daggers but hidden again. Power for power again hidden - dagger-like - wielded to never unveil secrets. (That one didn't turn out as powerful as I intended, but it at least fits the structure) Redeeming words of power, spoken by desperate forces of dying men. Save them! Save men's death of focus , and force desperation by spoken power of words redeemed! What do y'all think?

(I had to speed things up after all) Karabiner watched the walls go black as something clearly interfered with the Imager. "What was that?" "It seems that the city has been filled with a black... Something. My definition database is rebooting. Algorithms suspect an illusion, though it must have been created by a very powerful Epic to work so completely." "Thank you, Charles." “If you aren’t too blind to follow, I’m going to find you coffee.” Arachnerd stopped trying to triangulate as Riley finished. Thermal vision. Duh. Even so, she disliked relying on a power she couldn't yet confirm he had. He sounded only a little uncertain, however, so she shushed her worries. "Coffee. Yes." She needed coffee. She didn't care what kind, though it would probably serve best if it was as black as... Everything, just then. She was forced to rethink her simile as the darkness disappeared a few silent moments later. Nate dropped his bagel in surprise as everything turned black. "That was a mistake." He thought out loud. "Things - notably bagels - tend to be hard to find when one is blind." Though his voice was calm, Nate was grateful for the cover the darkness provided, because he was as tense as a rattlesnake a foot from being crushed at the thought of danger. He couldn't let the monster out, he had to stay safe! If Bloodlight was unleashed, Nate did not want to be the one at fault. He found his bagel a moment later, muttering too quickly to tell how that lovely baker couple or the other patrons had reacted over the low sound of his voice. Amanda lurched as the van jerked to a stop, rolling right into the grate that separated her from her escort, and not without a few bumps and scrapes on the way. She hated Karabiner's way of phrasing things. Skeet and Nudge were no more an escort than she was a consenting adult, but the monster thought of himself as some greater morality than the ones society had lived by for centuries, so he didn't care. She heard Nudge laugh as she smashed into the cold metal of the grate, and she lost all hope of ebbing the flow of her tears. "Shut up!" Skeet yelled. Oh, Skeet, you wonderful softy. For the briefest moment, she felt something she hadn't in a long time: hope. Then she heard fists fly, Epics curse, and she realized that her softy was likely to get himself killed and leave her alone with Nudge. She almost puked at the thought. She had insisted that Skeet come with her when she had heard about the operation. Skeet had promised her that he would go along, to protect her, and had blackmailed and scared the other prospectives for the task away so that he could. His next words bit her deeply. "... I mean, she's pathetic, but..." She refused to hear anymore. Skeet was no better than the others, no matter what he said when they weren't listening. Amanda Whitaker cried herself silently to sleep as the darkness dispersed.

Nudge watched the pathetic bait with a hungry eye. The main reason Amanda usually pulled through for their operations was that she was absolutely gorgeous; her perfectly tan complexion added to the soft lines of her face in a way that would have caught the attentions of every young man around even if it was the majority of her exposed skin. It was, however, a sever minority, as these operations didn't call for modesty. Especially since what clothing she had on her - short shorts and a very low cut shirt that also left her beautiful shoulders bare - would suffer severe damage, if Amanda was able to keep it at all. Nudge, for his part, wasn't hoping she would. Her looks meant that most Epics would come when she was threatened, either because they would rather be the ones she was endangered by or - in a few rare cases, like those of Alcatraz and Downburst - to come to her rescue. These latter always failed, luckily. Amanda had been fitted with a Linked collar that would teleport her back to the Picket if she was ever seriously injured or somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, as well as any time Karabiner pressed a button on his super-cool console. She tried to scream, and Nudge started to laugh at the pitiful sound that made it through her gag. She had to have been stupid to try screaming after she had learned so many times that it would do her no good. Then the world went dark, and Nudge's laugh cut off with his sight. Nudge felt himself decelerate suddenly as Skeet - a kinetic Epic, like Nudge but more powerful and limited - pulled their white van to a quick stop. It seemed he couldn't see either. Amanda clearly didn't have as easy a time of the sudden halt as Nudge and Skeet, and the former laughed as he heard her roll and slam into the the metal grate between the cab and the bay of the van. She let out a tiny moan through her gag, and Nudge laughed again at how pathetic the sound was. "Shut up!" came the driver's angry reply. At first, Nudge thought he was talking to the helpless girl in the back, but then he felt something strike his upper arm. "Oww!" Nudge whined, firing off a concussive blast to his left, hoping to hit skeet with at least enough force to bloody his nose. He knew it was unlikely, as his blasts were typically too weak to do that much, but Skeet's response of "What the sparks is wrong with you?" was muffled enough that Nudge was sure he was at least covering his face, if not to stop the blood than to protect himself from another blast. He knew where the next blow was aimed, and he raised both hands in from of him, firing two blasts just to the left of his head to push Skeet's flying fist backwards into the head rest or the grate. It worked. "Stop this sparking bullcrap, now!" the other Epic yelled. Nudge felt everything vibrate ever so slightly as Skeet's own concussive blast was distributed throughout the street around them instead of actually damaging anything. That quirk never gets old. "Why should I shut up? I'm in charge of this assignment!" "Because it's a bad idea to spark off the driver, and you're torturing the poor Maple! I mean, she's pathetic, but is the trauma really necessary? She's got to be responsive when we spring the trap, or Bloodlight won't know the difference, probably won't even hear her! Then we get fired and I blow you up as soon as you trip!" Skeet's response was wholly void of sarcasm, but Nudge didn't think for a second that he was so mad because he could lose his job; it was no secret that Skeet could go soft on people if he couldn't presently kill them because they were touching the ground or something. "Going soft?" Nudge retorted. "What if this is just around us, huh?" What if Bloodlight's here and we've already lost the bait?" Nudge was fuming almost like Skeet now, but he calmed himself. "You're right." He replied. He hated to admit it, but Skeet was right. They needed a plan, and any extra noise they made would be to their disadvantage. "We need to figure out what the sparks this is." (I'll wait till tomorrow in in case Voidus is able to respond, and I'll put Bloodlight's reaction up then)

Amanda Whitaker tried to blink back the tears. They had her. There was no escaping now. Karabiner had decided that she would be the best bate for a trap he was setting, and there was no escaping after the monster involved you in a business venture. Try as she might, she could not keep the tears from coming. She couldn't scream yet; Karabiner wasn't about to tip some vigilante off that there was a damsel in distress before she was close enough for his quarry - Bloodlight, this one was called - to hear her. She wasn't new to these kinds of operations; she had been used as bait in several other cities already, and had notably been invaluable in the creations of the Haywire and even the Quarantine; an obscure device that could be used to keep everything within a certain area inside and everything without the area outside. Karabiner had yet to use it for anything big, as it had some nasty side effects when moved. Her familiarity with the process kept her from worrying about what would happen to her, took away the terror that had been present in her first mission. She couldn't truly worry about an outcome she already knew. Instead, she was left to writhe in horror at what she knew would happen again. Before Calamity, there had been laws to protect her, and others in her situation. Many women had been afraid to speak out about their abuse anyway, but at least they had been able to. If Amanda were to try that - again - the response would invariably be along the lines of "he's an Epic! Why should I risk my neck if I can't even save yours?" Amanda struggled again to blink away the tears. When her eyes opened, there was only blackness. Amanda blinked several more times, still trying to scream through her gag, but all of it to no avail. She wasn't blindfolded, she could tell; she would have at least seen bits of sunlight through any type of cloth, and she surely would have felt it on her face, considering her acute awareness of the gag. Calamity... Arachnerd caught herself in the middle of a yawn at the words, perking up audibly. "Coffee?" She asked, unsure if she'd heard right. Yes, coffee sounded perfect. Then she could... Why do I need to stay awake, again? Nate. Right. Gotta catch Nate before he gets settled. A sudden worry occurred to her. Before he gets settled... "What day is it?" She inquired of Riley. Oh, Calamity, if he's here... Then the world went black. Arachnerd instinctively tapped her Spyderweb for vision, but still saw nothing. She could hear just fine on all channels, but all of her Spyders saw only blackness. There's supposed to be a way around that, right? Didn't she have a Gemborn who could see without light, rather than just in the "dark?" Then she remembered that Jetmaw was gone. Her new, Gemborn was Aqua Marine, and all she did was swim really well and use echo-locate. Under water. She would just have to triangulate with Aqua Marine and the other two nearby Spyders, one of whom had been following Riley until recently. She tried, but it was too much math for her tired mind. "What's that?" She asked Riley, yawning once again. (I am having a few more obligations come up than I expected, so expect the other POV reactions in a day or two.)

Arachnerd followed Riley - sparks, it was still weird to think of him with a normal name after seeing his powers - in silence for awhile. She probably had something to do, but she wouldn't be gaining any time by falling asleep in the middle of it.

Hoid - Tom Hiddleston or David Tennant. Rock - The Rock. Not too particular about the others, but if there's open casting... Me for Kaladin! Or Renarin, or really any major young Alethi character, but totally Kaladin if I could get it.

Not to mention that Szeth is kind of sworn to serve Dalinar, who just refused being Odium's champion. Szeth has already damned himself AND redeemed himself by keeping his oaths, so there is no question in my mind that he will NOT be Odium's champion. The only even sort of possible way he might end up that way would be if Dalinar joined Odium, and at this point I believe that's out.

On the old ones I got Willshaper and Skybreaker. Now, it turns out I'm a Windrunner... Then again, it is due to specific changes I have intentionally made in my life, and it really matches my Hufflepuffiness. I like it. I would also recommend putting the questions in a random order (maybe tell it to create a new random order each time? IDK how that software works though...) Seems legit though, great job!

1. Assuming we don't really care how someone got a hold of one, could a Cognitive Shadow be Stored in a Nicrosilmind? 2. Assuming No.1, what would happen if that Nicrosilmind was Burned?

Do we currently know exactly how Kelsier's Cognitive Shadow got "anchored" to the Physical Realm? I know he became the Sovereign, but do we have the information about the Realmatics and Hemalurgic reasoning behind it? How did it work? In a nutshell, how is Hemalurgy used to anchor Cognitive Shadows to a physical host?

I've decided against an Epic MC, because the Metallic Arts are just so awesome. Still not sure if I want to use Seftibournes from General Open Roleplay or a new, similar character. I'll put someone up by tonight though.

Hey, so I would kinda like to join this. Is there any reason I should know about for the Epic population of zero on those lists? Still not sure what my character should be, is why I ask, because Epics can be pretty cool.

Thanks much, I keep losing it.

“...whatever it is wouldn’t yield heat, I can still take it. Theoretically, I can create absolute zero, though I’ve never tried it." Arachnerd's breath caught. Absolute zero? That's sparking cool! Her face in no way concealed her thoughts. Riley burned a pattern into the handle of his crutch-broom as he spoke. Something about it was off. Most Epics expended an insignificantly small amount of effort to use their powers, but he seemed... Clunky. It was the oddest thing to notice, but he was playing it too cool. That probably... Means something... Something was seriously wrong with her brain. She had probably stayed up till 1:00 AM that morning, but she had made up for it by sleeping in, she was sure. There was no way she should have been this tired. “Normally, I’d go my merry way and you yours. However, since you seem lost and more than a little tired, I’m willing to offer some assistance. Coffee?” She was taken aback by that one. I meet a guy in the street, and he's suddenly offering me coffee. She was surprised, certainly, but she couldn't make any sense of basically anything just then. Observant as always, Arachnerd was lost without her usual ability to actually process the information she gathered. "That would be great, actually." Her voice sounded so bored that "great" was the last thing a random passerby would think she thought of it, but Riley had been there for the whole conversation, so he probably didn't think so. "Lead the way, uh... Riley." She wished he had some cooler sounding name so she didn't have to use such a personal one. It just felt wrong to use a personal name for someone who had a life beyond their personal one, like Epics. She wanted to call him Frostburn, or Kelvin, even Ganungagap for Calamity's sake! She realized she was muttering all three name candidates as she moved to follow him. Whoops...

Nate continued driving, glad to be out of that accursed Fast-Zone. Though he had never before experienced tunnel vision, he had quickly decided that he hated it. Driving with it was especially bad. Of course, he would survive anything this town could throw at him, but others could be hurt. He would not allow that to happen on his watch. He heard his stomach rumble. "Sparks!" He exclaimed. "I'm on schedule! That means I'm out of food!" That was definitely bad. If he got too hungry, Bloodlight would take over to keep him alive, and would probably kill him several times in the process. He needed to find food, and fast. Nate had no idea where he was going, but he eventually found an indicator of food through his rolled-down windows; he smelled the bread even before he saw the bakery. He could feel the hunger almost gnawing at his insides when he got to the door, and he didn't even pause to roll up his windows or check for a sign. He didn't have to. The angel of baking bread did not come so strongly from anywhere but a bakery. Inside were a man and a woman, neither of them young, probably his parents' ages or thereabouts. He wasted no time with the typical politeness of a happy, expectant customer, getting straight to the point. "I have money and I need food right now or something bad will happen!" Karabiner nudged a blue wire slightly to the right so he could see to the other side of the box he was working on. To his surprize, the entire wire swung around, one end scraping the outside of the enclosure. "Soldering iron." He said. "Here," said Charles the Virtual Assistant as the tool rolled across the long workbench to Karabiner's open and gloved hand. Solder in one hand, iron in the other, Karabiner quickly reattached the stray wire to the Imager's main circuit board and closed the enclosure. With the Imager back up, he would once again have reliable eyes throughout the city. What was more, he would be able to beam himself or others to and from the Picket with greater accuracy, meaning he could get back to power stealing. "Karabiner?" A raspy voice inquired over Charles' speakers. "Skeet. What's open?" "What color did you say that Saab was?" The voice returned. "Red." Karabiner didn't bother to ask if the kinetic Epic had seen a car that matched the Blackweb's description. Instead, he flipped on the Imager, sending a spray of light across the room. Some angles showed seriously distorted images of buildings, but the far wall was fairly clear, despite the Imager being calibrated for a different room. It sped across the city to a bakery Karabiner had never visited. Sure enough, there was a red Saab 9000 Aero parked on the street in front. "Thank you, Charles." Said Karabiner. "Your welcome, I'm sure," replied Charles. "Calibrating now." Karabiner saw the back corners of the room slide into focus as Charles connected to it and echo-located the walls with his advanced microphones and mini-speakers. "Pro, Conn, Boomerang, please connect." Charles called their Mobiles from Karabiner's own, and Karabiner waited for them to pick up. He had needed to manually connect Charles to his Mobile, as Charles's seventh Link couldn't interfere with the evident Motivator to hack the device. "Sir." Pro's voice. His power had some small effects that made him sound extra professional over calls. "Wait for the others." Soon, Boomerang and Conn had joined the call. "We've located Bloodlight. Initiate Operation Stalemate." "The bait is ready to move, sir," Boomerang's hard, feminine voice informed him.

“I conserve. That’s simple enough. But…” Riley trailed off, then continued. “If you want specifics, you’ll need to tell me a bit about your powers, which I assume are spider related.” Arachnerd was too tired to chuckle. She probably should have expected exactly that response, but she could see nothing wrong with him understanding her powers, as long as he didn't know about... Calamity but those were painful memories. She cursed the irony that the part of her life she had tried so hard for so long to just forget had become a matter of life and death again when she got powers. Normally, her reply would have been full of sarcasm, but she simply said "yeah, spider powers." She probably owed him an explanation for having known about his powers beforehand, as he would know nothing of her Spyders. Come. "I can control them with mental orders, which they'll follow even out of range." Spiders crawled from the cracks in the buildings around them, answering her mental call. "I sustain them, too so they don't need to eat, or implode from heart attack - spiders get heart attacks when they move for too long, as they need to stop so their blood can come back to their abdomens - while under my orders." March about, she commanded, demonstrating their ability. "I can also see through some of their eyes, feel through their bodies, and hear through their leg-hairs." Her red spider-eye hologram appeared around her face, the main eyes filling her glasses once again. Arachnerd knew she was leaving some things out, but she wasn't sure she wanted to reveal the Creepflood, as it was probably her only chance if fighting broke out; Riley - who really needed a better name - could easily kill any of her Hoarde, so those were out. But, if she just turned the street beneath him into spiders, he would be somewhere he couldn't reach her, and surrounded by hostile spiders to boot. Arachnerd had barely stopped talking, and Riley looked bewildered at the specificity of her descriptions, but she just picked it back up where she had stopped. "Oh, and fibrous structures I'm touching turn black," she finished, spinning a black web between her index fingers. She gave Riley a glare that only the bespectacled can deliver, basically meaning you promised.

Arachnerd watched the other Epic's face break into a smile. Why? Oh, wait... I'm cute, aren't I? Forgot about that. She was far too tired to even think of using that to her advantage. She was also too tired to consider that the smile might have been a trick to throw her off guard, so it did. “Call me Riley, if you like. I’m here because I just walked a long sparking way and decided to take a rest. Why are you here? And don’t be rude, introduce yourself.” "Arachnerd. I'm... Just trying to find some coffee, honestly." She almost said it like "you know where a girl can find a Starbucks?" or something, But she still didn't feel comfortable with men her age. Older fellows like Karabiner were one thing, but she still felt for Nate's arm around her waist whenever she saw a nice face. She admitted, grudgingly, that Riley's did qualify. How do his powers work? No. How do they work? NO! Thermal Epics can't all be the same! Fine. "How, exactly, did you do that stuff to those police officers, Riley?" He looked taken aback. "I mean, do you conserve thermal radiation, or just shoot ice and fire from your hands? If you conserve, can you pull it from anything, or just living tissues? Does it go through you, or just move from target to target?"

Nate lifted a water bottle from the plastic package in the back seat, twisted the lid off, and squeezed the water quickly into his mouth. “No need to waste time with normal chugging,” he reasoned, throwing the crunched bottle into the back seat. It felt a shame, but he could clean it out in Olympia Polaris, and he really had to get there quickly; Arachnerd’s Spyders could already have hitched a ride on his bumper, or otherwise caught up to him, and he couldn’t risk her learning specifics of his plan to bring Celia back for good. That, of course, was a major downside to processing things verbally like he did, as she could just overhear him thinking out loud as he always did. He pushed the plan far from his mind, pressing his jaw firmly shut just in case. The remainder of the trip passed in silence. It wasn’t a very long ride, at that point. He had made good time, all things considered, and reached Olympia Polaris in time to catch the sunset. Canadian sunsets could be quite pretty, he realized. His appreciation for the colors of the west horizon was dispelled when he reached to wrap his arm around Celia’s waist. She wasn't there. Nate started talking again as his car slowed to accommodate a mass of people walking in the road. “They certainly are moving, aren't they?” he asked himself. “Hmm…” he mused, noting their general dishevelment and ragged clothing. “I wonder what they’re running from.” Nate felt – or saw, rather – his vision tunnel, and the formerly blurry refugees slowed to a more natural pace. “A temporal Epic, eh?” he remarked, adding the stereotypical Canadian “eh” to the end of it to amuse himself. It worked, bringing a momentary smile to his lips. Then it disappeared he glanced at his dash, and the picture of Celia that was mounted there. “Lots of Enforcers, looks like,” he noticed. “This doesn't match the description I got. Someone must have broken through here very recently. I hope that’s all it is, anyway.” Nate nudged the Saab forward to stay in line with the other refugees, who didn’t seem to care that there was a nice looking car behind them. “That’s funny,” he noted. “Nice cars usually mean Epics. Must be hearty folks.” He waited in line for a bit, until he finally made it to what looked like a makeshift customs house in the road, where he was stopped by two men in uniform. He shut himself up, so as not to appear insane. Which, he thought, I just might be. Who knows? “We’re going to have to inspect your vehicle and person, sir,” said the first. “I suppose I knew this was coming,” Nate replied, opening the driver door and stepping out. They rummaged through his car, but didn't come up with anything they felt the need confiscate. The really wasn't anything in it that could cause problems but a box of .45 caliber bullets. The second officer held them up and gestured at Nate. “Do you have a weapon that fires those?” Officer One asked Nate, pointing over his shoulder at the ammo box. “Yes sir,” he replied, pulling his M1911 from his right holster, where it had been mostly hidden by his black leather jacket. Checking the safety, he flipped the handgun around and proffered the handle to the first officer. The second continued to work silently. “Iiiiiis that a problem, sir?” Nate asked warily. It would not do at all to be without his only non-Epic self defense. He didn’t want to make a scene here to keep it, but he certainly didn’t want to need it later either, and end up killing someone, then leave them as a witness of his atrocities. It would make Celia’s redemption impossible. “Not really, no,” replied Officer Two. “Great, ‘cause I'd kind of like that back.” Officer One handed the weapon back to Nate, who holstered it. “What’s that in your other hip?” asked Officer One, who could now see past Nate’s bomber jacket. “Spring airsoft replica of the other, sir,” he answered, pulling the full metal airsoft gun from his left hip and ejecting the magazine, which the officers could now see held 6mm white plastic BBs. They were .20 gram; anything lighter would simply spin off into the sky from the fire power of that particular model. “Airsoft? That’s not Epic tech, is it?” “No, sir, it’s a pre-Calamity combat toy, most it leaves is welts unless it hits your eye. It’s like paintball, but cleaner.” Nate punctuated the sentence by firing his chambered round at a nearby spider, leaving its splattered remains on the road beside them. A white dot could be seen to fly off of the body, and a plink could be heard across the street. “Harmless, I see,” said Officer One. "What’s your name?" “Snyder, sir. Nathaniel Snyder. “You know her?” he asked, pointing to Celia’s picture on the dash once his personal inspection was complete. Sparks! She beat me here! “Yeah,” he replied coolly. The façade was hard, but he thought he could manage it. “Why do you ask?” “’Cause that’s the Blackweb, sure as Calamity. She’s dangerous, but no-one really knows why she’s here. Was hoping you might have some info.” It was Officer Two who spoke this time. Who was really in charge here? No no no no no no NO! He tried not to panic. His response was a bit shaky, probably not very convincing, but it was better than his mind. “An Epic? Must be thinking of someone else, sir. That’s my late girlfriend.” Tears welled up in his eyes as he some of her. They were real, but they would probably help his lie be more believable anyway. Actually, their legitimacy was probably their biggest selling point. “Ah. I see. You're, uh, good to go, sir.” It was Officer Two again. Nate pulled his car forward through the now parting throng of people and was on his way. “That was close. I… should probably pull that picture down, if Arachnerd is really here.” It hurt him to do it, but Nate reached up and slid the picture out the to of the frame as he drove into the city. He’d take the frame down later, or alter it to hold his Mobile. He put the picture in the zippered pocket over his heart on the outside of his jacket. “I remember what you said, you know.” He said it aloud, but he knew Celia wouldn’t really hear him from there. Or maybe she would, if she was watching him with a Spyder. “I haven’t forgotten your promise, that we'll be together someday, without the pain, or the Evil. That day is coming, Celia.”

Your observations are interesting, at the least, and I believe they hold done real merit, but cannot join you. There is, however, a matter that I believe we can agree on, which should be of help to both of us if we can cooperate. Please realize, before I continue, that a time will come when we will be, of necessity, enemies. But for now, we have at least one common interest: An Epic named Bloodlight. As far as humans go, there are certainly more despicable beings than he, but his unique powers grant you an easy catalyst. Some revolutions need martyrs, but yours need something greater, closer. Your vendetta against humanity is clear, but many people are simply too human to rally behind it. These need an immediate common enemy. Bloodlight possesses a quasi-temporal power that allows him to kill a person hundreds of times in as many seconds. I believe this is exactly the kind of power you can claim is an inherent danger to the community of Olympia Polaris, especially given your highly persuasive nature. What I propose is this: Warn the people of Bloodlight's coming, prepare them against him. When Nate Snyder reaches the city, he ought to be hated so thoroughly that his immediate danger will force him to reveal himself. You’ll get more followers and a display of what they can do, and I’ll get a gain significant enough for quick backup from Karabiner, which will make Bloodlight much easier to neutralize and find. After that, this city will be rid of two or three Epics you don’t really want around, and well all be satisfied or dead. With all in mind, Arachnerd. Arachnerd lifted her pen, cracking her aching knuckles. It was a shame, really, that spiders were so illiterate, or she’d have simply told one of hers to write this letter. She didn’t really need his help at all, and would have no difficult tracking Nate down when he reached Olympia Polaris. It might not even have fine to tracking if her Spyders served correctly, but she didn’t want him as am enemy, and a useless ally never killed anyone. Well, it had, but not her. Come. She sent the command to her more capable nearby servents, two of whom were bigger than her hand. She was answered by twenty-seven spiders, climbing across her webs touch her hand. She dropped the letter. Catch and secure. The two largest arachnids stretched their forelegs up to catch the fallen letter, one pushing it intro the other’s back, where several of the others – black widows could survive so far north in their own, but her power sustained them – secured it in a quickly-spun envelope of spider silk. It was shoddy, but it would hold for her proposes. “Take it to Armageddon, and stay out of sight,” she told the bigger, hairy spiders, one of whom now carried the letter on its back. They crawled away, bearing her message safely – albeit slowly – to the Epic named Armageddon. Once outside of her range, she couldn’t feel them anymore. They would still follow her order, unless some other Epic specifically interfered with their minds. She felt her eyelids drooping. Coffee, she thought. I need coffee. Arachnerd the Blackweb released herself from the clutches of the great Webyrinth, sliding down to the ground. Purse, she ordered. A squadron of eight-legged acrobats skittered down a web toward her outstretched hand, where they deposited her purse. Its stitching immediately turned an unnatural black, accenting its white leather like her hair did for her face, creating a stark and awesome contrast that she greatly appreciated. Arachnerd walked about, Spyders 1-4 doing their best to find her a coffee shop. She really needed to make a decent map of the place sometime, or find one, because her Spyders could only do so much, and she needed them watching for Nate. In addition to her guides, she could see some sped up communications people in ERA headquarters, though her feed from Spyder 7, who was watching it, was kind of weird to watch, and sound was all too high pitched for her tired mind to handle just then. She checked on Spyders 5 and 6, who she had assigned to some unidentified Epics 5 had seen fighting some Alberan Government police officers for an unknown cause. All she could really see from 5 was an obnoxious pile of glowing green hair from that... strange young Epic. 6, however... Suddenly, Arachnerd saw herself. Over the shoulder of a younger man with long dark hair, she could see the back of her head. “Sparks!” She cursed,whipping around to face the silent surprise of an Epic. Sure enough, there was the thermal Epic from the skirmish, bandaged leg and all. The thermal Epic jumped visibly at her sudden, seemingly unwarranted turn and exclamation, and Arachnerd realized that he hadn’t actually been silent at all. She could hear breath from two directions now, so she must have just been too tired to notice with her own ears. It was certainly a good thing she had trained herself to react quickly to seeing herself in Spyder vision, or she would have been at a severe disadvantage. “Who are you and why are you right sparking there?!”

It had taken weeks, and no small amount of manipulation and Scottie, but it was finally ready. The Circuit had been assembled. Karabiner walked down the steps of his new football stadium, built near the back left corner of his van. In the center were three Epics: Nicroburst, Upgrade, and Borrower. He had been a bit hesitant about involving that last, as he might be able to take the power for himself, but Karabiner had managed to freeze his mind first, preventing such a disaster almost too late. The other two were simply hogtied. Upgrade had instinctively tried to use his powers on the ropes, but that had been completely pointless, as it simply strengthened them when he did. Karabiner approached the Circuit. "Such power, right here in one car, should probably break something," he said to the people gathered on the bleachers. The entire fence was there, as were a few Epics he had managed to persuade or force into the place. "But I shan't keep you waiting with a monologue!" He laughed, Charles grabbing his voice and amplifying it so all could hear. He motioned to a tank parked at one end of the stadium. Its mounted laser ignited, sending a green ray the diameter of his intellect directly at Upgrade. Upgrade's power exploded outward, catching the other two pieces of the Circuit in a wave of green, identical in color to the beam of the Haywire. It also caught Karabiner, but that didn't matter. The Circuit had just been activated. Karabiner went and stepped into the middle of the Circuit, feeling pure power wash over him. He could copy and paste any power in Edmonton to anywhere he wanted, in infinite supply! "I will own the world!" he exclaimed. Before he took any powers, he felt an impossible large one appear. He couldn't place it, but it was as if the Great Noodly One had suddenly come down to him. He seized it greedily, Linking it to his own body a hundred, a thousand times stronger than it had been. The Circuit shut down. He didn't care, he was already immeasurably powerful. He already owned the world. He reached out with his new power, and pushed. A wave of green light, so bright it's color was almost irrelevant, swept out from him. He waited for it to destroy things, bend them to his will, anything, really, he wasn't picky just then. Something did happen. Epics around him exploded in power. The world was ending, there was nothing left to rule. He saw an Epic with glowing green hair start floating up to the ceiling, arms back at their side, looking up at something. Than the world became an anime. The end.