What’s the Matter With You: Part 5

By Camospam, editing by Wendy K.

The third story in the ‘It Matters’ series following the adventures of Outlook.

A Non-Canon Whateley Universe Story.

February 28, 2008
Highway outside Montreal

The large passenger van that Roche and Marcus rented carried the newly acquainted group of nine away from the airport. It was being driven Northeastward away from Montreal towards Quebec City. Ella would have preferred to travel in her own Jeep, but it was left behind in Montreal.

The youths far outnumbered the adults in the vehicle and Ella was cautious around the newcomers … either it was her instinct kicking in, or possibly due to years of preparing for anything. As it was, some of the passengers were taking the opportunity of the lull caused by the journey, to have a nap. Conversation so far had been a little subdued because the unfamiliarity of the three groups made it tough to feel comfortable with each other right away.

The quiet surroundings gave Ella some time to think. Everything happened so fast - it was a blur, so she returned to her memories. Undoubtedly her role would become the storyteller of the Golden Eyed Man, and the battles with The Dark, so she had to get the story right.

The Were had a resounding victory at the village in Arizona. Her rallying call had brought a large force to help the beleaguered village, which honestly, was much to her surprise. Incredibly even to her, was how many of those who came in response had already heard stories about the battle at the Mediwihla Village, where the contaminated were defeated.

Ella successfully used a similar tactic that had been executed with the Mediwihla, by setting a snare. After this battle had been won fifteen had been reclaimed from The Dark. What was only to be a brief separation from Cameron changed once again when two more villages faced siege.

Ella and her band of warriors rushed to provide aid to the two beleaguered villages, and the resulting victories cemented that the Were could win. The news of the dispersing of the flashlights and dark energy adsorbing balls were now spreading like wildfire. As their reputation grew, and their value in defeating The Dark was established, Cameron’s weapons against the foe became sought after by Were across the nation.

The return of those lost to The Dark was the news that Were desperately needed. Hope flourished among the Were at last.

She absently rolled one of the black balls in her fingers; it was set into a necklace given to her by the grateful people at one of the villages she and her band had helped. The Were had started a whole new art incorporating Cameron’s solutions against The Dark. They had taken to weaving his protective and curative devices into clothing and making jewelry around them.

Cameron. The thought of him made her smile. As is often the case, the runt of the litter holds the most surprises. Ella had never been more surprised than by that scrawny human boy. She had always imagined herself as the ideal soldier; it was who she was trained to be, the existence she was born into.

Cameron didn’t hold to the traditional values. In fact, he broke down those walls which had been past down for ages … it was like he didn’t know - or didn’t care. Some of the Were tried to convince her that the boy couldn’t fulfill the legend of the Golden Eyed Man, yet others absolutely loved him and never doubted his role. Looking to her own heart, Ella didn’t truly know how she felt, or what she thought because Cameron was so different to her preconceptions.

Ella’s mind slowly drifted away in her thoughts to conversations of another long drive she had taken not so long ago:

Ella impatiently commented, “You went off unprotected again! Did the children need a hero?”

“They wanted to show me their home. You worry like a mother hen,” observed Cameron.

“As compared to you running-off like a chicken with its head cut off?”

“I keep my head firmly attached, Thank you! Making friends goes a long way to building trust.”

“I’m sorry to be sharp,” retracted Ella.

“Not a problem. But you must admit - each step you take is like you’re waiting for someone to come at you swinging.”

“I don’t want my next step to be my last … and now I must protect an undisciplined human who has no clue of the dangers present!”.

A surprised Cameron retorted, “You think I’m oblivious to what surrounds me?”

“Without a Were’s senses, I doubt you are cognizant of half the dangers around you - even here,”Ella referenced the border station they were queued up at.

Cameron performed a quick three hundred sixty degree scan, then began pointing. “Four MCO agents at eight thirty; each with low calibre sidearms, pepper spray and concussion grenades shaking down a family with a mutant son. Ten o’clock - a Federal Marshall is carrying an unloaded sidearm while transporting a prisoner. One thirty is a United States customs check point with a total of seven officers; all with sidearms and close to a concealed weapons cache with shotguns, rifles and tasers.”

Continuing his evaluation Cameron kept pointing, “Three o’clock, Canadian Customs office; three people currently posted with a fourth entering a bulletproof control area. The door’s touchpad code is: seven, seven, three, two, two, eight. On our six is an off-duty policeman who’s taking his family on a holiday, his firearms concealed in his luggage.”

Ella gave her charge a long look, a mix between shock and awe.

“Would you like a breakdown of who has knives and their lengths?”

“How do you see that?” She questioned, as she moved the Jeep forward.

“Me?! I’m blind … at least that’s the official verdict. I don’t see the normal way - I’ve failed every vision test given me. I’ll never get a drivers license because I can’t narrow my focus down that way.”

“I never considered that your eyes did more than shine.”

“Am I wrong in guessing that you’re wondering what useful role an Oberon can have if it is not to make up for my pitiful ‘human’ senses?”

“Yes, I’m struggling trying to figure out how I am best to be of help to you.”

“Ella, I need a sword and shield in ways you’ve probably never considered. In order to use my sight to the fullest, I become blind to all else happening around me … I’m at my most vulnerable when I’m at my strongest.”

“Then why complain that I keep wary of the dangers around us?”

“Did you ever see the movie Pinocchio, where Jiminy advises the puppet?”

“You imply I should be a noisy cricket and sing you songs?” jested Ella.

“Boy! That would be swell!” humoured Cameron.

Ben roared with laughter in the back seat.

“Ha!” she scoffed and gave Ben a dirty look, “Fat chance of that happening!”

“I was trying to say that I need someone to act as my guide to all things Were; your culture, your customs.”

“That is a reasonable suggestion.”

“And if you could put it to a nice Caribbean beat, toss in a couple maracas - Oh! oh! or maybe steel drums.”

“You’re testing my patience,” fumed Ella.

“Only seems fair, you’ve been testing me against some secret Oberon code of yours - so what’s the verdict; am I the guy?”

“I…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that. You have a job to do - I get it. Just don’t let work stop you from smiling a little. No matter what the test says, at the end of the day I’d like to be able to call you a friend.”

“That would be acceptable,” revealed the duty bound Oberon.

“Where are we heading?” Marcus’ question drew Ella’s attention back to the present.

“R.E.D.’s family has a place we can all stay,” answered Roche. “We’ll spend the night there before heading to the States.”

“Hate to impose,” worried Marcus, “there’s a lot of us.”

“Her family demanded we come … It would insult their hospitality if we refused,” countered Roche. “Besides; you haven’t eaten until you’ve had a French Canadian feast. Trust me! These folks are family you just haven’t met yet.”

“I’m more concerned with eating them out of house and home. Mutant teenagers are bottomless pits!”

“Fair point,” replied Roche, “but don’t worry, they’re prepared.” After checking the traffic he then asked, “You didn’t bring Polaris with you?”

“Grace wanted to come, but she’s at home taking care of Mark; the little guy’s too small for an adventure.”

Roche nodded in understanding, “How old is he?”

“Two months,” Marcus proudly added with a sigh, “I didn’t want to leave, The Trifecta of Trouble had to drag me away.”

Ella inquired, “Try who’sit?”

“He means us,” provided Rachel. “We got a message saying Cameron needed our help.” The head bobs to the affirmative indicated the same for everyone else.

“That would have been me,” chimed in Lynn. “I contacted all of you through Mike Williamson.”

“It seems you are the only person who knows what we are getting ourselves into,” the comment drawing attention as it came from the most quiet of the group; the tall hooded girl sitting in the back.

“Cameron has disappeared,” informed Lynn. “I don’t have all the details yet, really just the when and where. But I’m sure he’s going to need our help.”

“I assume collecting us together makes up the who, have we an inkling towards the what and why?” contributed Ella.

Tim piped in by saying, “Cameron saved our lives, so I’ll do whatever I can - but really, what sort of help we can be?”

Ella voiced her worry, “My concern also.”

“I wish I had more details,” confessed a remorseful Lynn. “But best as I can tell - it looks like Cameron needs our help.”

The van’s occupants returned to being quiet as they pondered what Lynn meant. It was only a short pause before:

“I was just tested so I could go on the airplane: I’m rated as an Exemplar four and Energizer three, and can fly - on my own - the plane was neat too. I wanted to use the code name Princess,” explained Charlotte, “but they said it was a title not a name; the poopie-heads! So I picked Excelle,” sulked Charlotte. Her expression quickly turned to a grin as she turned and poked Ella who sat beside her, “You’re it!” teased the young girl.

“What is ‘It’?” asked Ella, confused by the expression.

“‘It’ is your turn,” instructed Rachel. Seeing the answer didn’t register she continued, “To tell us what you can do.”

Lynn jumped in to rescue the uncertain Were regarding how much should be revealed. “Ella, Alan and I are shape-shifters with enhanced healing abilities and above usual strength, I’m also a Pre-Cog. But we don’t have code names.”

Rachel piped in next, “I’m a level three Psychic, and an Exemplar one. I haven’t chosen an alternate name yet.”

“I’m a level four speedster, call me ‘Swift’,” announced Tim.

All heads turned to the last person, seated in the van’s back. R.E.D. removed her sunglasses and pulled down the hoodie revealing the sparkling ruby red eyes and hair that looked like it was on fire - it pulsated, the effect working down the length of her hair. “I am Energizer six, and Exemplar three. Please to call me Flambé.”

The Void

Cameron outfitted everyone with a breathing apparatus and poncho; he also handed out staffs to those who asked for one.

Those that had undergone the recent attack had started to feel better. Cameron’s energy infused rice had imparted a replacement for that which had been stolen. Ken described to Cameron how it felt like his life was being pulled through a straw, and was grateful for Cameron interceding when he did.

In the distance could be heard a roar like crashing waves. It was coming closer until the individual shrieks could be distinguished. The wraiths had called up reinforcements who now came at them as an angry horde.

Oliver asked for a staff and joined the ranks that formed a circle around those like Troy and Patrica, who curled up under the ponchos.

Cameron stepped a few feet away from the circle so he looked like an easy target, as the remaining defenders all held the staffs out to get a feel for the weapon.

The first attackers arrived and beset upon Cameron. Although the wraiths had no solid form, contact with them was painful, feeling like a heavy slap rather than a punch. Cameron gave no resistance, daring them to bite him. When any wraith attacked him it was much to their surprise when they started to be drained of energy.

The main body of the assault swarmed the circle of defenders. The wraiths tried to find an opening past the barrage of staffs, but any contact with the staffs to the intangible wisps elicited a scream, and the injured wraith reeled back to have its position taken by another angry attacker.

Cameron was slammed into repeatedly by the mob trying to unbalance him. Struggling to break free from those wraiths who were stuck to him Cameron spun, and by happenstance managed to grab onto one of the assailants by its trailing tail. He then used the captured wraith as a bludgeon by swinging it around in a circle knocking away many within the arc. Cameron pulled out a copious amount of energy in the process.

A few of the wraith rose up over the reach of the staffs to then dive-bomb into the ring’s centre. The attack was halted by the ponchos that prevented them from attacking from behind, or getting to those huddled underneath the protective covering. Oliver turned inward and began swatting the close range targets with his staff; each blow resulted in a great howl.

The staffs which had started out pure black started to show white, indicating the hurt that was being inflicted, but it didn’t stop the onslaught. Instead it seemed to make the wraiths madder the more energy they sacrificed through engagement.

A number of wraiths began to crawl along the ground and managed to bite onto the unprotected legs of two of the defenders. These wavered and fell, but those wraiths were easily struck and beaten off. The weakened men were pulled into the middle of the group, and put under cover as the circle tightened up to adjust for the losses.

A punishing blow was delivered upon Cameron who stumbled and fell to the ground. One hand held onto his staff, but his other brushed up against a nub that stuck out of the ground. To his mind it felt like a nipple. He accidentally jammed the end of his staff into the nub as he tried to stand, resulting in a loud crash sounding like shattering glass. This was followed by a shock wave that sent all the wraiths tumbling, but had no impact on the people fighting them.

The nub then disintegrated into the grey powder that was scattered all over the ground. The defenders who witnessed what happened shouted for Cameron to hit another of the teats.

Ken managed to give concise directions by shouting to him, “Eleven feet, head to two thirty on a clock.”

Cameron got to his feet after knocking away some wraiths that had tried to hold him down. He walked one step at a time, planting each foot firmly to try to remain standing.

“One foot to your right,” Ken yelled, as he swung his staff making a solid connection. The resultant shrieking drowned out anything else he might have said.

Camron dropped down onto his knees and ran his hand over the ground, finding the nub. He again jabbed at it with his staff and the resulting reaction and concussive blast was even bigger, knocking the wraiths out of the air. The group of defenders shouted loudly celebrating the effect upon the wraith, rejoicing over the discovered means to fight back.

“Another!” hollered Cameron.

“This way,” directed Oliver, “seven feet to the left of me!”

As Cameron stumbled towards Oliver, two of the others left the protective ring and rushed over to two of the nubs that barely rose above the dust layer. Synchronizing the thrust of their staffs, both men jabbed simultaneously and the resulting blasts flung the wraiths further back than before.

Once the wraiths picked themselves up out of the dust and shook off the grey powder, they howled in unison like an angry choir - showing their displeasure. None dared approach the humans, but circled and shrieked, as the defenders regrouped and strengthened the ring.

Cameron was posed to jab another nub; he gestured his intent, which elicited a shrill from the wraiths who maintained a distance. He very slowly knelt and touched the nub, gauging that it was at least three times the size of the ones that had been destroyed.

Returning to his feet, Cameron threw out his arm, a single finger pointing away from the group of humans to emphasize his objective - then he threatened to shatter the teat with his staff.

The message got across, not without complaint however as the shrieking coming from the wraiths was earsplitting for a brief moment. But the wraiths did back away, their noise abating, letting Cameron know of the departure. The others watched as the wisps began slinking away into the thick grey gloom; soon all that could be heard was a faint din.

“We won!” exclaimed Oliver, showing a large measure of disbelieve in the turn of events.

“For now.” Ken did not want to sour the moment, but he was not ready to say the danger was past.

“Ken’s right,” admitted Cameron. “I doubt there was even fifty spirits in that attack, what happens when there’s a hundred of them, or a thousand?”

“We open another can o’ whup-ass on them!” encouraged Oliver.

“We got lucky,” confessed Ken. “Cameron was on his last legs, and the same for all of us. Against greater numbers we don’t stand a chance.”

“So we keep popping those pimples; that shook em up,” countered Troy, who had watched the battle blow by blow from safety.

“It rattled them, but I don’t think that is what drove them off,” explained Cameron.

“What do you mean?”

“I suspect the nipple I was threatening is important to them.”

“You need to explain,” came from one of the adults.

“When I touched it, it was much larger than the others. I sensed a lot of potential energy in it.”

“That’s why the wraiths suck on them - it’s how they feed,” surmised Ken.

“Compared to those nipples, we’re probably just appetizers,” conceded Cameron.

“So; what do you suggest?” asked another of the adults.

“We stay close to this nipple, they may not attack again right away, but I believe they’ll return sooner or later.”

Concord, New Hampshire.

The courtroom finally had returned to order after repeated attempts by the court officials. It was only after a bailiff had discharged his firearm into the ceiling that the pandemonium halted.

Emit Paulson basked in the furor that had erupted from so little tinkering; emotions were high, the stakes higher. This is exactly what the Goodkind's wanted, for Cameron’s legal case to rip apart any favourable public opinion of mutants.

The proceedings judge called for the court session to be dismissed and resume tomorrow in order to cool everyone down; a good idea on his part. Emit decided a coffee was a suitable reward and left to find a purveyor.

Marissa Dawson sat down at the table and let out an exhausted sigh. That last go-round had been damaging; she knew it, but couldn’t let her client see it in her eyes. Marissa had hoped to deal in facts, instead there was name calling and mud-slinging … Why did it always come down to the level of being in day-care?!

Looking over at Elizabeth Carson, who sat with her head bowed, her breaths short and in sporadic fits. If she would have spoken you would have heard the pain. This close, Marissa could see the streaked mascara and the puffy eyelids.

In a soft controlled voice Liz asked, “Are they going to use that recording from my office?”

“I’m sure of it,” admitted Marissa.

“I don’t understand, I’ve played it over and over, but when it happened - I heard Ronald Lundquist’s voice.”

“Are you saying they doctored the recording?”

“No! I had Delarose check our tapes, they’re identical. But I heard Ronald Lundquist, not Cameron Burke, in the office.”

“Liz! I’m sorry, but I can’t build a case on what you thought you heard. We’re in enough trouble. I can’t open the door that you might be hearing voices.”

“I should have listened to the little voice that told me not to accept Outlook’s application to Whateley. It had too many inconsistencies.”

“Why did you? He’s not a mutant.”

“I thought we could actually help him. He’s a hard luck case like so many of my kids; an orphan with a messed up life.”

“You’d pick up every stray off the street.”

“So sue me!” the smile was weak, but Liz did manage one. “Outlook was so intriguing: a power set I’d never heard off before, an odd physical condition, plus a tough medical history.”

“I noticed he was under a psychiatrist’s care for emotional issues. I had hoped it was mental problems; that would have given me something to work with.”

“You’d willingly exploit a person’s faults?”

“It would depend on how serious the situation. Sometimes the moral high ground is a luxury when you’re fighting for your life… Wait!… You’ve got something don’t you!”

“On his school application, look at the date of birth!”

February 29, 2008
Outside Quebec City.

“I can’t believe you punched me!” complained Tim, as he doctored his eye, gingerly holding the wrapped ice Marcus handed him.

“I told you to keep your hands up!” counselled Marcus from the vans front seat. “It’s a defensive posture; then you’re ready in case your opponent leaves an opening.” Marcus was trying to ensure their sparing lesson wasn’t a complete waste.

“I’m gonna have a black eye!”

“It’s your own fault, you walked into it,” pointed out Rachel as she leaned forward from the seat behind to say close his ear.

“Like you can do better,” Tim snarked back.

“I’m not the one with a shiner,” Rachel snickered.

Alan laughed out-loud at that, giving his seat mate a nudge. They had mixed up the seating, and Alan had wanted to sit with Ella, but Rachel had jumped into the van’s third row chair before he could make his move.

“Sisters are good at pointing out the obvious,” noted Alan.

“Tell me about it! I have two of them,” huffed a frustrated Tim, who sat back allowing the ice to rest atop his eye. “I just wanted to be better prepared; I haven’t done much fighting. What about you?”

Alan wondered just what he should say. His heart won teller’s rights, “I’m afraid I have been in a number of battles, each worse than the one before. I desire peace but can see that it must be fought for.”

Ella picked up on the conversation and asked her own question, directed to Lynn seated in the row behind, “Are we expecting a fight?”

Lynn sat looking out the window giving a long ‘Hhmmm’, “I don’t know,” she gave in an apologetic tone. “I have seen when and where we need to be, but the rest isn’t clear … I’m sorry.”

From the front seat came the suggestion, “We are all tied together by knowing Cameron, why don’t we share with each other how we met him?”

Lynn blurted out, “Before we swap stories, Ella, Alan and I need to tell you something, it’s important. We are Were!”

The van’s occupants mulled that over until Roche said, “About halfway between Sainte-Marie and Thetford Mines.”

Even Ella laughed at that. Alan interjected, “It is better said that we are Were-folk. No doubt you have heard of Werewolves. Unfortunately movies and fables have painted us as bloodthirsty beasts, and that stereotype is a great misconception.”

“You change form,” stated a nonchalant Rachel. “Ella is a fox, Alan and Lynn are panthers,” the revelation not phasing her in the slightest, although her saying so soothed her siblings.

Charlotte on the other hand made an impassioned plea, “Show me! Show me!”

Lynn obliged and changed to her kitten form. The tiny little puffball of black fur and amazing green eyes looked up at the young girl sitting beside her. Charlotte’s eyes went big as saucers, followed by raising her hands into small fists, and they vibrated in glee to her saying, “So Cute!!!”

Lynn stretched before sauntering over onto Charlottes lap and flopping down. The girl was ecstatic at being able to pet the tiny cat. Tim looked questioningly at Alan and asked, “How about you?”

Alan looked around himself to then say, “Not enough room.”

Elle stared at Rachel, half in curiosity and half in indignation before saying, “I don’t do requests.”

“I didn’t ask, but you want to know how I knew?” garnered Rachel. “Psychic, you can hide physically but not mentally. Before I allow you to put my family in harm’s way; what is this binding you’re trying to break?”

Concord, New Hampshire.

Emit Paulson arrived early to ensure getting a good seat in the courtroom, he wanted to sit as close to the action as possible, it allowed him to watch the lawyers - see any tells that might give away their hand. By being close he could also get a feel for their mental state, that spoke to how they assessed the hearing was going.

The table for the State was eager, they knew they had damning evidence to present, whereas the representation for Mrs. Carson didn’t look right, it was jovial, smiles and happy. Emit was puzzled, since to him the outcome was a done deal.

When the Judge entered and took his Dias, the room was called to order.

Looking down at a paper the Judge’s expression shifted from grumpy to become appalled. Emit was now beyond curious, what had changed?

The Judge spoke with a scowl, “I have a request from the defence that this hearing be dismissed. Mrs. Dawson, as counsel for the defendant, please explain your reasoning.”

Marissa Dawson stood to make her address, “My client has been charged with child abuse. I am drawing the court’s attention to the fact that the State has failed to demonstrate where and when such a situation occurred,” only be cut off before she could continue.

States Lawyer: “Your honour, we are prepared to submit such evidence.”

Marissa Dawson continued, “As I was endeavouring to say, The State has failed to produce a situation of endangerment, therefor the charges of child abuse must be dropped.”

This was a twist that caught Emit’s attention.

Seeing that she had the judges attention, Marissa Dawson pointed out, “The State is claiming that my client willfully brought harm, by denying the basic necessities of food and shelter to an underage minor. If it pleases the court; Cameron Burke was born November 11, 1985, making him twenty-one at the time of the alleged crimes.”

The Judge ‘hurmpt' loudly at that news, matched by the State’s lawyer quickly checking her notes.

The State’s Lawyer approached the bench, saying, “The State acknowledges the date of Cameron Burke’s birth. But we have medical records showing that the victim had been incapacitated for seven and a half years in a coma. Cameron Burke only had thirteen years of accumulated life experience, certainly not enough to be called an adult.”

The Judge called a break as he withdrew to his chambers, and everyone grew restless waiting for his return. After two hours, the lawyers responded to an invitation to join the judge. An hour later all parties returned to the courtroom.

The Judge called the courtroom to quiet before addressing the room. “After deliberations and consultation, I was unable to find any precedent that allowed me to roll back the clock. On the contrary, there are many cases where a youth claims the right of majority due to demonstrating advanced development, not a reverse. I find I cannot support the State’s motion and must dismiss the charges against Mrs. Elizabeth Carson.”

Mediwihla Village.

Ben returned to his lair, lighting the lamp that burned in a holder on the small room’s wall. Stationed in the middle of the hand hewn cavern sat a table piled high with books, parchments and scrolls.

After many days his search was bearing fruit, as he’d uncovered much on the Were’s history. Last night Eloise was shocked when he told her about why Panthers were sought as leaders among the Were. He’d at last unearthed how the binding to the seven courts had been performed, and by who! The council of elders sent a Were pantheress to make a peace treaty. It necessitated the Were swearing to be subjugated to the seven courts, what’s more, it was a blood oath.

In-order for Ben to get as concise a history of events possible, he had called many of the leading Were houses to gather their recollections. Oral tradition allowed for variation, but the central tenant held true. The Sidhe had made a pact swearing that if the Were aligned with the Seven Courts, the Sidhe would grant protection to all the Were.

The phone call he had with Ella last night had been unnerving, he had been surprised to speak with Eloise’s niece Lynn, from whom he had been instructed to make the necessary arrangements. These were as dictated by the old ways, and supported in the texts he’d read.

Ben had gone earlier in the day to seek an audience with the Grove, he had spent many hours conferring with the conifers. He had to present his request succinctly as there is no beating around the bush with a bunch of bushes. But it was successful! The grove agreed to host a parlance to air a grievance.

Sitting back down to his desk Ben rechecked his writings, ensuring it was all in order. A mistake now would carry penalties. His hand shook as he dipped the quill into the ink pot and scratched out the last remaining words onto the velum.

He gave the documents to the duly appointed messengers and bid them haste. If Lynn was right, and he had every reason to believe she was, timing was critical. His assignment done, Ben breathed a sigh in relief; he could now afford to relax and give attention to what he’d found. He hoped Cameron was okay, from what Lynn had said there was reason to worry.

End of Part 5