In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe story
Part 1
By AoifeM

War is a gruesome thing.

People told me of the old days of a great nation, which united the land from “sea to shining sea,” how it was once the center of the universe and a melting pot of diverse cultures, and everyone did their best to get along.

I can’t help but chuckle. So much for a melting pot. It only took an “unforeseen” incident to watch the union crumble with such absolution.

That incident was the birth of the Wyld. Suddenly millions of people were gaining otherworldly powers. Some have gone through extraordinary changes; I’ve seen a man covered in scales walking about town just the other day. Some parts of the world were scared of the unknown, particularly many religious affiliations who hadn’t any idea what to make of it. Some have gone so far to believe that the devil had grabbed a hold upon their souls, and their transformations are a sign that the end of days is coming.

However some parts of society decided to use logic to understand this phenomenon. Cascadia was one such nation. My homeland, is coming into its 15th anniversary. The former great northwest have always had more of a liberal view of things. While many people were as shocked with the sudden appearance of the Wyld, other than the physical and mystical properties of these beings they were mostly like humans, cognizant. Quickly laws were passed to ensure their rights as citizens of Washington state. Soon Oregon followed.

About a year later Canada too had dissolved. Using the discourse going on around the rest of the continent, Quebec made the first move and succeeded their union. Alberta soon followed. Vancouver, Victoria Island, and their vicinity were now on their own, and their beliefs were in direct opposition to their neighbors to the east. Meeting in Seattle, the leaders of all three major Cascadian regions came together and created the new nation of Cascadia. With this came the funding for a new capital city stationed right on the 49th parallel: Unity. This city would ensure that none of the major cities, Portland, Seattle, or Vancouver, would gain more than the other.

Quickly Unity grew to over 1.5 million people. The equality between Wyld and Humans was a major factor in its fast growth; in most parts of the globe Wyld are treated like animals. Technologically Cascadia is one of the most advanced civilizations on Earth. While the remaining members of the United States still holds its seat in the United Nations the words and decisions Cascadia makes holds great weight upon the global community. Often times our nation gets the call to negotiate between the other nations. Many parts of North America still are unstable and skirmishes still break out on a daily basis.

And that’s why I was called in. I am Ian Kennedy. I am the Cascadian ambassador who was unlucky enough to mediate the situation in bipolar Ohio. Unofficially, it belongs to the Confederate States, but to say they have any real control over it is absurd. The United States would love to have another state back into the fold, and the more liberal Lake States would like it to join them so they can better control trade within the Great Lakes region. With the Confederates holding it trade is very difficult, to say the least, and by controlling Lake Erie sea trade between the Lake and United States has been cut off entirely, if not by the embargo the Confederates have against their bitter Union rivals then by the Pirates who plague the waters.

And some of those pirates aren’t in it for just the money. They belong to the fourth group in the discussion. A group of rebels who cause all of Ohio trouble. They are at the heart of the discourse- while the nations surrounding the area fight with each other these guys come in and terrorize the area, keeping everyone on their toes. The three nations realize that they aren’t the only enemies they have to deal with.

The person who leads this group of rebels is named Scott Ryan. No one really can understand where his agenda lies. His figure as well is shrouded in mystery; no one knows whether he’s even human or wyld. I’m sure the warring states do their best to dehumanize him. Still, it’s amazing how many people take up to him.

Under agreement from the three nations as well as unofficial agreement from Mr. Ryan we decided to set up negotiations at the old government complex in the ghost town of Columbus. The city was practically torn asunder, first by the Wyld Purge, and then from the mass emigration shortly after. Most former Ohioans relocated to one of the Three Nations, and most of those Ohioans are now frontline soldiers determined to reclaim their lost region. People have tried to reclaim the city, but usually the group who tries to isn’t holed up for very long; the former city is an easy target for attacks.

In my motorcade I was nestled as securely as any person could be at this point. My government was so kind to leave me with a small group of guards to watch over me, but even this couldn’t help me get over this foreboding premonition I was feeling inside. Already the Merchant General of the Lake States and Vice President of the United States had arrived, waiting impatiently for me.

“All you Cascadians that slow?” The Vice President chided. Yeah, like he had any right to talk.

“Come, come!” Followed the Merchant General, impatiently. Just loving to get to the brass tacks of things.

And yet, it wasn’t a full party. The Confederate Ambassador hasn’t arrived, let alone any emissaries from Scott Ryan’s rebellion.

Either way standing here seemed to be pointless either way. I followed them into the capital building. The old, dilapidated walls told a story of infinitesimal despair. To be honest Cascadia isn’t exactly paradise as well; sure we were much more accepting of our Wyld brethren we were surrounded by extremists in all sides. Calivada went completely 180 after the Taming, and became a more theocratical society. Alberta, which also annexed Saskatchewan, seemed to be more of a merchant based society, and while they don’t make it an effort to eliminate the Wyld in the area, they are the heavy lifters of their immense “fracking” operations: Paid very little, and segregated from the Human communities. Obviously that made us a major destination for most Wyld and their sympathizers. Sadly though, overpopulation does do quite a bit to our economy. Over-inflation and a lack of jobs didn’t help the matters, and like the rest of America, our finances are being balanced on a tightrope. To combat it we built walls upon our borders, a bad Public Relations move to say the least.

But still, nothing is as bad as I saw here. This was the result of those who couldn’t act fast enough. This is what happens when a culture shocked society lashes out, and no one could stop it.

Minutes turned into hours. Still no sign of our missing emissaries. Obviously the Vice President had enough. “Damned Confederates making us look foolish again! Honestly why did you assume they would ever bother with damned meeting anyway?”

Before I could reply though a bullet impaled the Vice President’s Skull; his blood splattered
onto the walls behind him.

“We’re under attack!” One of our soldiers exclaimed as quickly they gathered the Merchant General and me and hid us behind an old but sturdy oak wood table.

From what I could see from beyond the broken glass window was a group of ragged soldiers whose faces were conceal under bandanas. Were these the rebels? It hit me like a brick to the face- by allowing Scott Ryan in on this negotiation did I unwittingly set this trap?

Then suddenly I heard a cry from one of the soldiers. “They have a mortar!”

The words barely got out before the explosive shell made its way inside, blowing up the room and causing the building to collapse with myself and the soldiers still inside.

…I should’ve been dead.

“…Looks like he’s waking up.”

…I guess not.

“He’s real lucky we got to him in the nick of time.”

“I really don’t know why we’re treating him. I mean, he may not be any of those guys but how do you know we can trust him?”

“Come Trish. It wasn’t his fault he got caught up in this. There is no reason he should be left out there to rot.”

“Grond say man too puny. Man fight, Grond smash.”

Opening my eyes to see myself lying on a makeshift hospital bed, surrounded by four people: A giant of a man who seems to be wearing discarded automobile parts as clothing: I assume that’s Grond, a man of African American descent who is dressed in priestly attire, and two women, one with Silvery hair, and the other…

“My name is Scott Ryan,” she states, “I think we have a lot of explaining to do.

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 2
by AoifeM

I turned off the faucet of my shower. My naked body glistened within the golden morning light. My naked, female body.

I wrapped a towel around my waist. I still didn’t know what was more irritating; I could either wrap the towel around my waist and let my breasts jiggle like wild, unable to ignore the feeling, or cover them up and give in to another feminine behavior.

Fuck that. I may be a woman but the hell I would let it control me, control what I was.

My name is Scott Ryan, and no, I won’t feminize it. I am 19 years old, and have been for ten years.

That’s my gift, or curse, depending on how you feel about it. Hyperactive cellular regeneration. Cut off my hand, few hours later I get a new one. Pop my head like a balloon, and a few days later, I grow another, my brain’s memories intact. And yes, it keeps me 19. Nothing short of Immolation or Cancer could kill me.

I guess it’s not that bad- I can thank God I don’t have to suffer with periods, but just the fact I even had to think about that pisses me off.

I began to strap on my bra. I detested this, but back pain doesn’t help, even if they’re a B. Plus having them jiggle even a little tends to remind me of what I’ve become. I’d rather not be distracted, particularly when in battle.

The TV was on in the background.
Tragedy struck in the former city of Columbus today. While it has become a ghost town, it was the agreed upon site where three high ranking officials of the three nations were to sit down and negotiate terms to finally end the war which had plagued this land for the past 8 years. Sponsored by the Cascadian government, the meetings came to a screeching halt as the terrorist group, headed by the enigmatic leader Scott Ryan launched an attack and destroyed the old Government Complex where the meetings were held, killing the Vice President of the United States and Merchant General of the Lake States. The Confederate Government, who hadn’t arrived by the time the attack was launched, issued this statement:

“We fight blindly, man against man, each death is another win for the Devil. We must put aside our differences as Satan’s Army marches forth. Scott Ryan is a sympather of the devil’s army, the Wyld, and Cascadia was a tool. The only way for peace is to eliminate those who further instigate this war. Scott Ryan must be stopped.”

I didn’t do that. Neither did my “army,” if you wanna call it that. I was set up, and obviously the Confederates were the top of my suspects list. Direct the other two countries against us while the Confederates pull the rug up from below them, attacking them when they expect it. The motive was definitely there too.

“I see you’ve heard the news just now,” a voice said from beyond the bedroom door. Trish came in and plopped on her bed. Wherever we went we shared rooms, and had for the past 5 years. Right now we set up a small camp in a little Village called East Liberty. The advantage is that it lies near a former automobile plant. Those resources could prove useful in our fight.

We could never stay forever though. We’re nothing more but a small guerilla group of Wyld and Wyld Sympathizers. We always or on the go, salvaging what we can and freshen up whenever we stop, hoping to always be one step ahead of our enemies.

That’s what I fight for. I fight for the hope that one day, I, and any other Wyld can finally sit down and call a place home.

“How is he?” I asked while pulling on my wifebeater shirt. We found Ian Kennedy, the Cascadian ambassador, lying in the rubble in the former ghost town of Columbus a few days ago. There was bodies everywhere, but he the only one who was clinging to life. We were able to treat him and he woke up not too long ago. I decided to give Mr. Kennedy a little time to recoup before we had our little chat.

“He seems to be doing well,” Trish replied. “Gave him another dose of nanomachines, they seemed to clean him up pretty good.”

Trish is an interesting Wyld. At a young age, when being Wyld was a new and frightening thing, some doctors felt they could prevent her ever changing into one. By using nanomachines, the theory was that they could work on the cellular level, and any form of change could be negated by the machines “curing” it. Oddly enough though, when she was 19 she went Wyld anyway. And her gift? She can control those same nanomachines that were injected into her a long time ago, shaping them into whatever form she desires. She can create daggers with just her thoughts, damage other people’s cellular structures while healing others, and destroy most electrical products. Oh…and her clothes well…those are nanomachines too, changing to whatever suits her.

Trish continued. “I still don’t know if we can trust him.”

“We’ll need him, Trish.” And we do. That’s only the half of it though. I guess…I kind of pitied him. He shouldn’t have been involved in such nonsense. He shouldn’t have to die for our battle.

“But now he knows who you are!” she quipped. And it’s true, not even my standing army knows who I am. When in battle most people just see me as just an ordinary Wyld female, or “Commander Trish’s secretary”. Only Trish, Grond, the earth manipulating, metal eating giant, and Marcus, my good friend and ex-priest, knows I’m Scott Ryan. But I wouldn’t have given Ian my name if I didn’t think it was necessary.

“Look,” I began to explain, “You saw the news, “People are out there, blasting us for things we didn’t commit. We need him on our side. We need an outside source to understand our plight. Without connections we’ll be stuck in this…limbo. He can help persuade people to change their minds. And if we can gain support, we’ll be one step closer to sovereignty.”

“I’ll trust your judgment, Sis. I won’t get in the way.”

Normally I would snap if anyone would call me “Sis.” But Trish and I are very close. She was there when I needed her. Helped me cope, even just slightly. To be honest, she’s my best friend. Even if we weren’t related, I still think of her as my sister, the closest thing to family I have.

I used to have a family. I used to be loved. I had everything really, I was a pretty athletic man, intelligent to boot. I was going to head to college, thinking of becoming a geneticist. I had the girl of my dreams. Miriam, that was her name. Not too typical not too extreme, that name was just right.

…That’s where my journey begins.

---

Piqua, Ohio, August 2, 2013

She wrapped her arms securely around my shoulders. She was kissing me all over as she sat on my lap in the front seat of my 7 year old Jeep Liberty. This was the last time I ever felt so alive.

She paused and began to stare directly into my eyes. “I can’t believe in a few weeks we’ll be heading to college. It’s so unbelievable.”

“Why’s that?” I quipped

“You know how it is, when you start getting into a routine? How you go every day feeling like nothing is ever going to change, and then one day, it’s over and suddenly it does?”

I laughed a little bit. “You want me to pinch you, see if you’re dreaming?”

She smiled in a seductive manner, and replied, “If this is a dream, I’d rather not know it.” She resumed kissing me as leaned the front seat back.

It was the last time we ever gotten to do this. I was heading up north to Bowling Green University in a couple days. I was hoping to return to her on Labor Day and continued our relationship. I never thought this last time was truly the last time.

After we had our little “fun,” I decided it would be best to drop her off for the night. I was tired and I knew that I still had things to pack and not whole lot of time to do it.

The next day I began to pack. I was carrying a mirror downstairs, and suddenly tripped. The shattered glass wound up stuck in my hand, causing them to bleed profusely. Taking a deep breath I slowly pulled the shard out from my palm, causing the blood to further gush out. I screamed in pain, and luckily my parents weren’t home, because the minute shook me to the core.

Just seconds as I removed the shard of glass from the palm of my hand, the wound began to close up. Almost a minute later, it was good as new, not even scar to show for it.

“Holy Shit!” I cried in disbelief.

Becoming Wyld isn’t uncommon, it happens every day. But this is Ohio, and the safe bet is, if you were Wyld, you better keep it hidden.

Quickly I cleaned up the mess and continued to pack like nothing happened. I thought that that was the extent of my transformation, and if that was it, then at least I can maintain some form of a normal life.

Go figure that wouldn't happen. It only took a few hours after this incident before I felt a hot uncomfortable feeling, running throughout my body. I later understood that this feeling is a hot flash.

Still this feeling was foreign, and at this time, I hadn’t clue what it was. Did the glass cause this? I looked at my hand. It seemed a little different; more slender? And was my index finger a little bigger than my ring finger? How didn’t I notice that before?

I just shook it off as nothing. I guess I hadn’t paid attention before. Soon after that “hotness” within me disappeared I was back to doing my packing. Night fell and my parents came home and helped me with my long enduring chore. That’s when it happened…

The burning came back. I dropped what I was doing and fell to my knees, holding my stomach as I felt like I was turning inside out.

As I lowered my head I stared in horror as my chest started to inflate and mounds of flesh began to fill my shirt. My hair turned red and grew out and hung over my head, blocking my view. Suddenly I felt a “crack” sound as my hips gave out and I fell onto back, writhing in agony. My muscles thinned out, I still retained a physique, but, my arms were slender and my hips widened. I felt my penis retract, and I knew then what was about to happen. I tried so hard to fight it, but if I couldn’t get this out I felt I was gonna burn alive.
With a push I felt my vagina split open. The heat and pain subsided, and the damage was done. Scott Ryan the man, was dead.

I immediately sat up in horror, oblivious to the fact I wasn’t the only one who witnessed my change. My mom screamed in a panic, and the sound traveled down the hall. That immediately caught my dad’s attention, and when he arrived and saw me his jaw dropped.

“…Dad,” I struggled to say.

The loving parents I had died on that day as well. “G-get away!” my dad cried, scared to death and unable to process the reality of the situation, “Y-you you’re a monster!”

The pain I felt inside was different then the last time, but it was unfamiliar nonetheless. It was first time I felt rejection.

He saw an old ball bat, which I used when I was in Little League. He grabbed it and began to hold it with the intent to attack me. “Leave us you demon!” He swung wildly, destroying many of my items, items I was going to take to college to me. Now I doubt even college was in my future.

I was freaking out. First I turned into a girl, and now my dad is threatening to kill me. There was only one way out: the window in my room behind me. I quickly leap out the second story window and fell into the ground below, most likely breaking my arm in the process. I didn’t have time to scream in pain, I had to run. I gather myself and took off.

This was only the beginning of my nightmare….

---

Present day

Lost in my thoughts, the knock on my door startled me into my senses. Blinking just a little to regain my composure, Trish went ahead and got the door for me.

She opened it, and Ian was there completely up and about. “I was told you were staying here. I’d like to have this discussion if you’re ready.”

It was time to put my best foot forward. It’s time to carry out my plan.

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 3
by AoifeM

(taken from Ian's point of view)

Dawn arrived and a few hours passed since I awoke from my mortar-induced slumber. The woman who referred to herself as “Scott Ryan” decided it was best to wait until I get bearings straight before we have our little chat. In the meantime the Priest, who has since identified himself as Marcus, was doing his part to treat my wounds.

It really isn’t surprising these days. There have been cases where newly formed Wyld changed genders. A lot of times you can tell who they are through the trauma many of those Wyld suffer as a result. While many countries do have counseling services in order to deal with mental afflictions, many Wyld have no choice but to hide their problems in fear of repercussions.

Either way, using the moniker “Scott Ryan” while being female is very genius indeed.

Marcus came into the room, handing me supper. I was hungry, but this mush could give nightmares to a top dollar French chef.

“Sorry this isn’t much,” he empathized. “It’s hard to find decent food when the soil is barren and the crops are dying.”

I appreciated it nonetheless. Something made me wonder though. Why is a priest working for a bunch of Wyld, let alone a rebellion?

He seemed to recognize the puzzling look on my face. “You have a question for me I take it?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I see that you’re a priest.”

He seemed to have understood what I was getting at. “Only in God’s eyes. My church excommunicated me a long time back. Apparently we’re all God’s children, except those with tails, three eyes, or are 15 feet tall.”

He paused as I let the thought sink in. Marcus was a Wyld sympathizer.

“Have you ever heard of Martin Luther King?” he asked, “There was a time where this man was revered. He brought people together. Black, White, he worked hard to make that happen. That’s what made me become a preacher.”

“So why this? Why the rebellion?”

“Normally, I’d be one to fight this in a non-violent manner,” He admitted as a streak of guilt fell on his face. “But you can’t just force a strike, or shut down production, or starve yourself and try to get the world to pity you. The world would love to see us dead, and not think twice about it.”

“So this is a fight for survival.”

“There won’t be any Wyld pride parades, and no underground railroads leading to freedom. Here, we are on our own. This is our Megiddo, and if there was a Rapture, it must have happened long before this. Now I pray God for strength in hope that we may see the light at the end of this tunnel.”

I had to admire this man. It could’ve been easy for him to turn face and walk away, but he stood steadfast in his convictions. Too many people would rather put up with it than take a stand. Perhaps I had the wrong first impressions of this group of people.

…Then again it’s not like he was the major threat of this group either. And some people turn fanatical when defending their beliefs. While Marcus told a good story, I need to assuage my fears by speaking with someone else.

I set my breakfast aside and jumped out of bed, feeling fresh and unbelievably vibrant. To believe only days before I was knocking on Death’s door.

“I’m going to see Scott,” I told him.

---

It’s surprising how quiet this place was. Seemed like everywhere else the echoes of war could be heard overhead, but this place remained mostly unscathed. Looking at it, you could almost see the picturesque visions of Ohio before the taming, like the ones you’d see in old history textbooks.

I remembered the story about the Wyld Purge. It all started, apparently when some young girl from Columbus was murdered. Reports claimed that this girl was murdered by a rampant Wyld. That girl was the sister of General Jackson Bigsby Wells, the youngest and most accomplished member of the newly reformed Confederate Army. He supposedly dealt with the murderer, but it wasn’t enough. Armed with not only an army but the charisma that could mesmerize an entire crowd, he called for the extermination of all Wyld. The result was the Wyld Purge, and the infighting eventually caused the destruction of the Ohio capitol, and created the mess that we’re still in 10 years later.

Today he sits behind a desk in the Confederate Capital of Nashville, but you can bet his prints are all over what is happening here.

Marcus directed me to the house in which Scott was staying. He stated that She tends to stay in different quarters than most of the other soldiers, and only allows Trish to room with her, mostly for support.

So I knocked on the door, and sure enough Trish answered, with the Red Haired Woman known as Scott right behind her.

“I was told you were staying here. I’d like to have this discussion if you’re ready.”

With a nod directed toward her roommate, Scott sent Trish away, closing the door behind us.

“I see you’re up and moving,” she began.

“Yeah,” I confirmed, stretching out a little, testing my muscles to double check. “I’m surprised, to be honest actually.”

“Trish is good at what she does,” Scott stated matter of factly. She pulled up a chair and sat down, looking me over.

“Look,” she continued, letting out a sigh, “I just want you to know I didn’t blow up that build back there.”

“They look kind of like your guys,” I claimed, “I’ve seen what some of your soldiers look like.”

With a quick retort she snapped back at me, “And I’m telling you it wasn’t my troops!” Silence filled the room, seeing we were at an impasse. She calmed herself down, and continued.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” She stood up using her hands to point at her body. “Being as I am sometimes I can’t help it from time to time.”

“So I take it you weren’t always like this?” I quipped.

“No. At one time my name did match the body.” She looked down, obviously this fact brought pain into her eyes.

Suddenly she moved on to a different subject, “Look. Trust me. I truly wouldn’t want to sabotage such a thing. I want peace too; for us and for the other nations.”

Honestly, and I don’t know why, I decided to believe her. To me, I almost felt like she felt just as awful as I did about the incident. Perhaps it was the warm, yet determined glow of her green eyes. She didn’t seem to be the cold blooded killer that normally was associated with her.

“When we got there,” She continued, “the damage was done. Going to a region meeting up with four armies to talk peace, even if under the watchful eye of a neutral nation, is still a risky prospect. Someone could pick us off with relative ease if we went in through the proverbial ‘front door.’ And as you can see, we’re not a professional army. We’re just a guerilla group of Wyld, relying mostly on our powers, not training to do our battles.”

She made a good point, You can’t be too safe here, as I found out.

“I wanted to save as many people I could, but the building was leveled, and by the time we got there, most of the victims were dead. Somehow you were still alive.”

“And so you rescued me.” I finished her train of thought.

“We transported you from Columbus here.” She confirmed. “Although if I was just in it to treat you I wouldn’t have revealed myself to you.”

“There was a catch!?” I asked, stunned.

“You don’t have to do this, I won’t make you,” she said calming me down. “I ain’t one to make people into personal slaves.”

With a quizzical look I asked, “What is it you want from me?”

“I want you to take me name,” She declared, “I want you to be Scott Ryan.”

What does she mean by that? “Be” Scott Ryan? That didn’t make sense at all.

“No one knows who I really am,” She went on, “not even my army. They just assume that Trish is my Superior, or older sister, or whatever. To them, I’m just another soldier in the fight.”

She must be amazing being able to hide her identity even in front of her own men.

“My men grow restless,” She admitted. “They think they’re fighting for an imaginary hero. We have no morale, and I fear the worst. Plus,” she paused, then immediately blurted out, “I need an army! I need a figurehead that is not only male but someone who can really people! You have the charisma, you have the intelligence. You know people far and wide! You can work with other nations, negotiate, and find compromise. You have all the qualities necessary to be the leader of the unit!”

I didn’t know what to say. I was flabbergasted. I didn’t even think my skills would hold so much merit. Indeed I was good at words, and rather level headed, but she’s asking me to “Be” her- Scott Ryan. Can you just pass on your name like it’s some kind of title? It’s not like she’s Caesar or anything.

“Look, think of it like this,” She said. “Think of it as I’m the President and you’re the Prime Minister. I’ll help you manage the troops, plan our strategies, and tell you how to go about doing things. Basically, you’re my mouthpiece- no offense.”

“None taken.”

“And Trish and Marcus can help you out. They’ve carried out my decisions in my place, they probably can help you get comfortable.”

This was still a lot to consider. And she knew it; she just had to tug at my heart strings. “I want to be free! I want to be like your Cascadia! Or Japan! Or Ireland! Why can’t I-why can’t all Wyld, be free?”

Feeling dejected I let out a sigh. This is what I get for getting involved. I really just wanted to say ‘To hell with it!’ and head back home to Unity. Sadly I doubt I could, my bodyguards were all dead, no access to any outside communication, and going out in a foreign land all alone, particularly during war, was suicide. The truth of the matter was Scott and her rebels were all that I had.

…I can’t believe I’m about to go through with this, I thought back to myself.

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 4
by AoifeM

(In Ian's PoV)

“I’m Scott Ryan,” I kept telling myself as I stared directly into the mirror.

I really didn’t understand any of it. Is she so insecure about coming to terms about being a girl that she refuses to even reveal herself to people? They were all Wyld, or at least sympathetic enough to know that changing genders is a common occurrence.

And that’s concerning to me. If you want to be a leader then take charge of the situation! The whole thing just confused me.

Still my goal, the whole reason I was even here to begin with, it to find some way to bring peace to the region. This is an odd way to go about it, though.

Marcus came into the room. Today was a big day. We were going over a two part plan and my
assistance would be vital.

“I see your well,” Marcus began, “To be honest, I’m surprised you’re willing to do this.”

“I’m surprised myself,” I admitted. One thing began to segue into another and my mind digressed back to Scott Ryan. “So, how long have you known her?”

"Oh, Scott?" He chuckled a little bit, then began to retell his story. “I suppose it was 10 years ago…”

---

Columbus, Ohio, December 19, 2013

There were two men, soldiers of the Confederate Army. They were driving a dump truck. Their destination was a local kiln; their payload was a bunch a corpses, all tied up in burlap sacks.

These were Wyld corpses, killed in another round of Wyld extermination. Those who were useless to them were destroyed, their bodies burned. They called it purification under holy fire. Back then many people still thought that becoming Wyld was like transmitting a disease, even though every day people were proven that a falsehood. People just want to hear what they want to believe.

Marcus ran in front of the truck, forcing it to a complete stop. The driver got out of the truck and began yelling. “What’s the big idea!?”

“I see that you’re carrying dead bodies in that truck,” Marcus stated.

“So? What’s your point?” The driver began to feel agitated.

Quickly the priest opened up his wallet and began to count the dollars he put into his hand. “Seven thousand, eight thousand, nine thousand, ten-ten thousand dollars for you and your friend each if you redirect it over to my church down the street,” he offered.

A grin reached the driver's face. He obviously was bought. “Whatever. Don’t matter to me where these bodies go.” He changed direction and drove towards the church. A good 45 minutes later the bodies were unloaded and the bribed soldiers were on their way.

Marcus stared at the unloaded sacks. Each contained a person whose life was cut brutally short. “Disgusting,” he replied, shaking his head, “even Wyld at the very least deserve a proper burial.”

He began to unwrap the bags gingerly so as to preserve the bodies as they fell onto the cobbled floor below. Many of the screamed and cries of agony were still etched onto the faces on the slain Wyld. Each one a reminder of the indifference the world had. Marcus was numb to it though. He’s seen this all too often.

Unwrapping the latest bag, a young girl lied before him, her shirt ripped to shreds, and bloodied from head to toe. She looked like she took a shotgun blast to her torso. “So young,” Marcus said, feeling a tinge of pain in his eyes. He stared at the young girl. She probably could have lived a normal life if she wanted, albeit her powers hidden.

And like some scary movie, her eyes suddenly opened, and she gasped for air.

“Holy mother of Jesus!” Marcus cried, he immediately walked over to her aid. “Are you okay, child?”

After her few breaths she stuttered out her first few words. “Where-Where am I?”

He wrapped his cloak around the lady, “You’re safe now.”

The entire trauma the girl experience exploded from her tough exterior. She wanted to try and fight it, but she couldn’t. She laid her face upon Marcus’s shoulder, and began to bawl, uncontrollably.

“It’s ok now,” He said as he put his hand on the back of her head, holding and comforting the lady.

---

December 20th, 2013

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Marcus admitted, handing her some clothes. These are all that’s left of the donation bin. There hasn’t been many supporters since I was excommunicated.”

Still wearing Marcus’s cloak, she took what he had available. She was at least happy the clothes weren’t overly feminine.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Marcus said as he sat down beside her.

She paused, still unsure of him. She was unsure of everybody right now.

“It’s okay,” Marcus assured her. “You needn’t tell me if you don’t want.”

“…Scott,” the young girl blurted out, “Ryan. My name is Scott Ryan.”

“That’s quite an odd name for a young lady…”

Scott began to tense up; the moments that led to her in a body bag weighing heavy on her mind. I’m Wyld, he’ll hurt me, like everybody else, she felt.

“It’s okay.” He put his hand over hers, trying to calm her. “It is what it is. You couldn’t help it. That’s the thing about being Wyld.”

“W-why are you helping me?” Scott asked, struggling to inch out of her shell.

“I suppose I’m just trying to continue the dream,” He stated. “You know the one. Where all men are created equal?”

She stared down at her bosom, “I guess I don’t apply on all counts.”

“Nonsense. You look like a human. You act like a human. Replace man with woman and you still deserve to live with those rights. Nothing should be taken away.”

“Tell that to the rest of the world,” Scott quipped.

“You can’t start the journey unless you take the first step.” Marcus got up and began to walk away. Turning around he stated, “You must be hungry. I’m going to head outside and find some breakfast. Give you some free time to be alone and get dressed.”

She nodded in approval, and he left her to her business.

---

Present Day

I walked with Marcus into the abandoned automotive plant. There I could see Scott’s minions at work. Old beat up cars were being reinforced in layers upon layers of sheet metal. Grond was busy bending metal bars, lining the cars’ windows with them.

“Seems like you’re doing a good job there,” Marcus complimented the 15 foot tall giant.

“Grond happy!” He cried. He began to jump up and down, causing a minor tremor as rubble fell from the ceiling. “Grond work hard!”

“Uh…good,” Marcus replied, “…Keep up the good work.”

Trish walked over to see the commotion. “And you guys complain about us girls getting ready. And Marcus, did you really have to get Grond in a frenzy like that?”

“Gotta keep him feeling happy,” He said. Lord I don’t want to know what happens when he’s angry.

“Come on, Sis is waiting.” Trish said, leading us to her. I guess calling her “Sis” keeps others from knowing Scott’s true identity. They didn’t seem related. Although, I guess they are rather close.

Inside an old conference room Scott was waiting, busy writing notes on her little note pad, most like finishing some little details before going into the mission plan.

“Well, I’m glad we’re all here,” Scott began. “Trish, if you don’t mind.”

“No problem,” She walked over to an old, busted down computer. With her hand, she touched the tower, and just like that, that old pile of junk turned on. One upping herself, she connected to the world wide web, which was shut down in this region, since the United States still held monopoly over it. Connecting to the GPS website, she zoomed into to the site of our latest battle.

“This is Toledo,” Scott began, “one time a major city the bordered the former state of Michigan, today it serves as a heavily fortified ground and naval base for the Confederacy.”

Zooming out towards Lake Erie, Scott continued, “The Confederates control of the region has caused complications between the bordering nations, in particular the Lake States. A Merchant power, it’s major cash crop is corn. Besides being a food source, it is the major ingredient of the renewable resource called ethanol.”

This was fairly elementary, but she continued. “Because of its location the Lake States have been bottle necked by the Countries of Texas to the south and east, Alberta to the Northwest, and Mormonia to the West. These countries are major producers of Oil, and seeing Ethanol as a threat, continues to blockade the export of this fuel.”

Pausing a second, she went on, “the United States, plus many other foreign countries would be interested in the expansion of Ethanol based products. However, only the Lake States are stable enough to further develop it. And since flying is a dangerous prospect when the bordering countries are threatening you, sea travel is the way to go. And for that reason, Toledo holds significant importance.”

“You want to take Toledo?” I said in a shocked manner. “You know we can’t do this! Your rebellion has what- two, three hundred people at most?”

“You’re right,” she admitted, “We can’t. At least not alone. That’s why we need you, Mr. 'Scott Ryan'.” She smirked a little bit after saying that. “You are going to Detroit and meet with the Doge.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, Trish will go with you. She’s a very capable bodyguard.”

“We’ve had this set up for awhile,” Trish interjected, “They agreed, their only condition was they would only negotiate leader to leader. We are to meet a small group of Laker troops outside of Toledo. They will take us to the Doge. We need you to negotiate the terms of agreement.”

“What are these terms?” I asked.

“That Toledo belongs to us,” Scott answered, “We will allow safe passage through town, the garrison of their troops and allow trade back and forth from Lake Erie. We want to be treated as an autonomous government, kinda like how Scotland and Wales were back when the UK was still the UK.”

“And what will you guys do in the meantime?” I asked.

In an almost cinematic like way, she held up her machine gun, slapped a banana clip in, and cocked it.

“We’re gonna do what we’re best at,” She claimed, “We’re gonna distract them.”

“You know, that what you’re demanding isn’t going to be an easy sell. They could just eliminate you after you eliminate the Confederates.”

“Well, you’re the negotiator,” Scott said. “One of the best around, I heard. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Great. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“Anyway,” Scott replied, “You’re dismissed.”

I got up from my seat and walked out as Trish put a hand on my shoulder. “Scott wanted me to get you to do one other thing.”

Huh? I wondered, as she began to drag me out back to the garage. Put in front of all the workers, I suddenly felt a bit of stage fright. Trish picked up a rather giant metal wrench, and began to beat wildly on an empty oil drum. The resonance quickly brought everyone to attention.

“Listen up everyone!” she cried. “Your leader, Scott Ryan, has recovered from his injuries from his meetings in Columbus. He wishes to speak to you.”

Immediately I was the center of attention, not knowing what it was I was supposed to say. I heard Trish whispering in my ear, “Try to encourage them.”

Simple enough. Yet, somehow I felt like I was about to send them into a suicide run. Do I really want to encourage something that has but a slim chance to succeed? I’m a negotiator, not a miracle worker! And what chips do I have to bargain with?

Focusing my thoughts back to the men and women in front of me, I put my best foot forward.

“Men…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been around, watching you sweat, bleed, and die for me- no, for the cause. I know how difficult it has been. It could be just so easy to run away from it all. But just because it’s easy doesn’t mean it’s right. That’s why we’re here. We don’t want to live the rest of our lives, running from house to house, hiding what we are just so we can go on living as normal as we can. We deserve to live life the way we are! As Wyld!”

The cheers of the soldiers deafened the area, but seeing as I wasn’t done, they quieted down.

“You know, they say that God is infallible, but tell me, if he was so infallible, why did he make us? I’ve dwelled on that thought, quite a bit actually. I think I’ve come up with an answer. We all are imperfect beings! And by being imperfect beings God made the perfect creatures. Creatures who feel compassion, sympathy, and ultimately understand that we cannot live life all alone! By standing here today, as brothers and sisters in arms, either Human or Wyld, you have made a statement. You made the statement that we do not fight for greed, or vengeance, or justice, but rather we fight for love, love for the common person, no matter what we are. So tonight, let us battle for each other, so that tomorrow we can all celebrate together!”

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

Author's Note: I have spent the last few days studying up on Muslim culture, hopefully making the story as authentic as possible. That being said, there are Muslim characters in this chapter and some of them do things that other Muslims may not approve of. That being said, I do this not because of any preconceptions, but rather to make the character seem as realistically human as possible. Some people morals are more strict than others, and ultimately, like any other character I create, they are all made in shades of grey. Nobody's perfect. Please keep that in mind.

Oh, and Sunday, Bloody Sunday, is from the U2 album War,  ©1983 Island Records.

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 5
By AoifeM

How long? How long must we sing this song?
How long? How long?
Tonight, we can be as one. Tonight.

I pulled the CD out from the Disc tray and tossed it aside. Must’ve been left in the car when we took it. Don’t get me wrong, I actually love U2, but I suppose you can call me a bit superstitious. A song called “Sunday, Bloody Sunday,” when ironically enough, here I am, about to head to battle, on a Sunday no less.

Of course, there are reasons I don’t want to hear it. “Tonight we can be as one,” and eerily enough, after 10 years I still feel like two different people. My female body versus my male mind. And as much as I try to hang on and cling to dear life, I fear my male mind is losing.

I barely can even remember what I looked like back when I was male. Sometimes I wonder how awkward I’d feel if by some miracle I gained my male body back. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be ecstatic, but I haven’t been a guy in so long I’d have to recommit to learning every little intricacy all over again. I wouldn’t even be surprised how weird it would feel to walk with my “third leg” intact.

And that thought pisses me off too.

Still, I put up with it, albeit reluctantly. Might be the reason I’m so busy, leading a group of ragtag rebels from behind the scenes. The more I work, the less I have to ponder about my gender dysphoria. Doesn’t help when you’re in a car, driving for an hour and a half in order to reach your destination. Marcus, Grond, the rest of my troops, and I are to provide a distraction, keeping the Confederates busy while Ian negotiates terms for an “Agreement of Mutual Cooperation” with the Doge of the Lake States. Hopefully, if all works out, the Laker troops will arrive from the back door, surprising the Confederate Army, and hopefully by attacking from both sides we’ll be able to defeat them and reclaim the city now turned fortress.

At least that’s the theory. A calculated risk to be sure. I just hope nothing bad happens to them. Particularly Ian, whom I still feel guilty when getting him involved in this. He’s taken it well though, so I can’t help but be impressed by that.

The Middleman in this operation is a man named Faried Al-Said. We contacted him a few weeks ago. Being Muslim, he, his family, and the rest of the Muslim populace have a stake in this operation as well. The Confederacy, being extremely theocratic, practically treats Muslims like us Wyld. Oh, and if you’re Muslim Wyld…good luck.

Anyway, after talking to his father, who apparently is highly respected amongst Muslim circles, they agreed to help stage this attack. As I said, they too have a stake in this. For one, the freedom to express their selves again, and two, being able to reunite with family across the border, which has a huge Muslim presence, particularly Wyld who had to abandon their homelands in the Middle East due to the growing intolerance in the region.

The Al-Said family claimed they could get Ian and Trish across the border without any trouble. Meanwhile we were to talk strategy with the head of the Al-Said household, Mohammed. Our army held back 20 miles south of the city limits. When the signal came, they would come out guns blazing.

As for Marcus and myself, we waited till nightfall came on the edge of town. It was there that Faried would rendezvous with us. Though, it sure took long enough.

“Damn,” I growled, arms locked around my body, shivering. “I sure wish he’d hurry up already. I’m freezing!”

“If you weren’t so defiant all the time I would’ve suggested to take a jacket,” Marcus replied. And there’s another disadvantage to being a girl. Seems way too easy to get cold anymore.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, shrugging him off. Suddenly I heard some rustling of leaves nearby.

“Did you hear that?”

We both turned to the direction of the sound, and a shadowy figure appeared from hiding. “I see you did come,” he replied.

“You must be Faried,” I declared, stating the obvious.

Nodding, he quickly retorted, “Come this way and follow. Stand there and you’ll be noticed.”

Agreed we rushed over to him.

“It is not very far.” He affirmed. We followed him to his father’s house, using the alleyways and other nooks and crannies as our routes of travel. Obviously he knew this area well, and I could tell that he would be valuable in our fight. Still the way we travelled felt like a parkour course. If I wasn’t built for this we’d easily would’ve passed out of sheer exhaustion. Hell even I had to slow down for Marcus a little. He’s 44 years old, and has no Wyld in him. Guess being able to regenerate has its perks, sometimes.

Luckily it wasn’t very long until we reached our destination; we were at the back door of an apartment complex.

“We’ve arrived,” Faried stated. He opened the door, and just inside the house he went to a coat hanger and pull off a scarf. He walked over and handed it to me. “Please put this over your head. Forgive me, but my father is still conservative in his values.”

I was appalled. I don’t even want to think I’m a woman, now I’m being subjugated as one?! Marcus looked at me, concerned I might blow a gasket. Under normal circumstances, I would. But his eyes also reminded me, that this is a mission, and I can’t compromise it over something as silly as this.

I took the scarf, apparently called a hijab. And I thought put on a tie was hard enough, I’m not real familiar with tying things over my head, particularly pieces of cloth. I deferred to Faried. “If you could help me put this on.”

After this whole embarrassing incident was behind me, we proceeded to enter the house. We had a seat on their couch, Faried went to get his father. Meanwhile I couldn’t help but think this hijab is like a cast; all of a sudden I had an itch on my scalp that was driving me mad and tried frantically to scratch it.

Marcus seeing me fidgeting with the scarf on my head, chided me, “quit playing around with it.”

“Well, you wear this thing and see if you like it!” I snapped back. Finally getting that itch scratched, I finally felt at ease.

Finally Faried arrived alongside his father. We stood, and he glanced at me, then at Marcus. Seeing the cross around his neck, he commented, “I am surprised a Christian would be so inclined to help what you may consider a ‘backward’ people.”

“Be it Christian or Muslim, our God is the same,” Marcus said, “Those who would use their faith to claim superiority are truly backward.”

With a grin Mohammed shook his hand, putting his left hand under his right. He then treated himself to a seat, not willing to show me the same treatment. Maybe I was overreacting; after all I was practically forced to wear this scarf for his benefit. I wonder if this is how a feminist feels?

Mohammed began, “It has been so long since we have had contact with our relatives and friends across the border. Sadiq has done much for us giving news of their exploits across the border. Still, it saddens me I cannot see those I love face to face.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Marcus replied.

Taking that to heart, Mohammed continued, “The Lake States provide for those who prove their worth, Christian, Muslim, Human or Nasnas.” I assumed that’s what Muslim call Wyld. I later was told that in Arabian Mythology it was a “half human,” literally, as in sliced in half. I was half human too, in the rhetorical sense, but that other half, I’d rather not remind myself.

“I have no qualms overthrowing this regime,” Mohammed stated, “Our family has hidden under false identities long enough. There are many of our society who wishes the same. However, many have their doubts about trusting you. They fear that even though you are facing similar circumstances, that ultimately your ‘newly created state’ will be no different. You are, after all Christian, and even if my family, and others may share the fact we are Nasnas, the similarities end there. How can we trust your word in respect to our religion, our culture?”

I took the opportunity to respond, “Mister Al Said, I’ve been through and understand the tensions that divide people of many races and cultures. Being Wyld, I know firsthand the bigotry and hatred due to our differences, physical or otherwise.”

He looked at me in shock, then turned his head to Marcus, “Why is it that she talks in your place? Does she not know that this is business?”

Marcus, quickly apologize, “My apologies. In either event I am but a lowly human being, in a group of Wyld, fighting for a cause that is unpopular to the belief of the majority of humans. If we acquire this land as our own, you will have the freedom to worship as you see fit.”

I was pissed off. I so wanted to snap this guy’s neck. First I’m being forced to wear something that just screams “I am woman!” Now he has the gull to treat me is if I’m below him?!

Faried seemed to witness my rising anger, and intervened before I exploded, “Miss, perhaps I should lead you to your quarters? I assume you are tired from the long journey.”

I relented. I can see how much this matters to him, just as much it matters to me. I took him up on his offer and left the room. Marcus can handle it; after all, half the time he handed order out to my troops in my stead.

I just can’t believe Mohammed. He’s worried about being treated fairly- what about me?

Faried and I started to walk into the bedroom in which I was staying for the night. He started to apologize for his dad, “Forgive him. Even in the Qu’ran, women should be treated with respect, what he did was not adab.”

“Huh?”

“Not polite.”

At least I felt respected by Faried, which felt good, but didn’t help make the situation any better. The worst part of this was the constant realization I am a girl. That I’ll never be able to act like I used to, and every time my gender impacts something it’s just another smack in the face, forcing me to accept reality.

As I entered the room I was met by a girl, around my physical age, 19, wearing relaxed muslim garb. Faried introduced me, “This is my twin sister, Fatima. She will assist you in everything you require. It might put your mind at rest knowing you aren’t the only female in the house. Please, have a good night.”

He walked off, leaving me in the hands of his sister. The room was overly decorative, somewhat girly, to say the least. Oh, how it gets better.

As she shut the door I immediately ridded myself of the hijab and began to stroke my fingers across my fiery red hair. Oh God how I needed to do that.

“You’re hair is very beautiful,” Fatima stated, breaking me from my trance, “Like a Huriyah.”

Again with these foreign words. I turned back to her.

“Sorry, I don’t know your name,” she realized.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. Obviously she was kind of disappointed by my response. What was I supposed to say? Scott Ryan? And I never thought of a female name for myself, hopefully I never will.

Her frown turned into a grin. She retorted, “Then I will just call you Huriyah then!” She seemed to be a little hyper, jumping up in down. She seemed to be rather excited by my presence.

She plopped down on her bed. “My father never allowed me friends to visit,” she admitted. “I’ve never had the opportunity to be friends with another woman. This will be an enjoyable experience.”

This is gonna be hell, I thought in response. I sat down on a chair and began to take off my boots. With all the walking normal human beings would probably have corns and blisters on their feet. Mine still look as smooth and delicate as they always do.

“You have beautiful feet too,” Fatima said with a tinge of jealousy. “Definitely a Huriyah.”

Whatever. Let her call her what she wants. This is just for one night anyway.

“Hold on! Let me get something to help wash them for you!” she exclaim. And as frantically as possible she rushed out the door.

Oh, no…what is she up to? I wondered.

She came back in with a tub of warm water. “Put your feet into this.”

Well…I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I stuck my feet in the warm water. The feeling it had on my feet was absolutely amazing.

Taking a washrag she began to rub the arch of my foot. The state of ecstasy I was in quickly reached its peak as I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and let go of all my thoughts.

She was really thorough, rubbing my heels, ankles, and even the balls of my feet. She really took her time with my toes, running through every crevice. I could get used to this.

Unfortunately everything has its end. “Alright! I’m done!” She cried.

Opening my eyes I immediately took a look at my feet. My mood swung right back to anger as soon as I saw what she did.

“I hope you liked it. I thought green would be the perfect color, seeing it matches your
eyes.”

She painted my toe nails. I was shocked I even let her get away with that. I stood straight up.

“What? Fatima asked, sort of distraught, “You don’t like it?”

Not knowing how to reply I stammered, “J-just…don’t worry about it. It’s fine!”

Obviously she didn’t believe me. With some tears in her eyes she cried, “I’m so sorry!” and rushed out the room.

Great, I thought to myself. I lied down on her sofa, too tired to even chase her down. This day was a disaster. I just wanted it to end. Tomorrow was a big day.

---

I woke up to the beams of morning light hitting directly over my eyes. Stretching out, I felt a little better. I hadn’t a lot of time, so I quickly got a shower, disappointed that not even that could take the polish off my newly pedicured toes. If I had more time I’d figure out how, but for now I suppose my boots can hide it.

With everything in order I head downstairs. Apparently Marcus, Faried and Mohammed had already left. They must believe I’ll meet up with them.

Without so much as breakfast I quickly made my way to the door. Opening it I headed outside.

...Or I was supposed to, anyhow.

Something impeded my progress, like a barrier, and launched me back down the hallway. Annoyed, but not hurt, I looked at other exits, including the back door. Those too, were blocked.

Fatima, seeing what the commotion was about, came downstairs. Seeing what I was up to, she spoke. “You aren’t allowed to go out there. My father forbids us.”

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 6
by AoifeM

“You aren’t allowed to go out there. My father forbids us.”

Well there goes my morning. I was prepared for a bad day. After all, I’m fighting a war here, and I’m not sadistic enough to think killing would brighten my mood. If it wasn’t for this, I’d probably never kill at all. However I could steel myself from that. Having my rights denied because I’m a girl, something I had no desire of being, well, it’s those unexpected things that could cause anyone to snap.

“You put up with this all the time?” I asked Fatima as she helped me up from my latest attempt trying to break through this invisible barrier her father put up.

“I don’t want to,” she admitted. “I would love to live life how I wished. But I also have a family. I love my brothers, and even after all this I still love my family. It’s too hard for someone such as I to leave. Without them I am alone.”

I could sympathize to an extent. She had no one else. Here at least she had protection from the soldiers outside. But this is no way to live a life. This only makes me more resolved to take back this town.

Hard to do when you’re trapped.

“I don’t suppose you know how to break through this barrier,” I asked.

“It only effects girls,” Fatima answered, “Men can go through without trouble. If you are accompanied by a male, you can pass. My father always requires women to be supervised.”

Great, I thought. So it truly was a sexist barrier. Lovely. And there’s no guy in sight. I can’t be stuck here damn it! I swear I’m gonna ring Mohammed’s little neck.

I had to think. My first instinct was to check outside and see if there’s anybody that could provide my escape. Peaking through the window I saw a Confederate soldier walking about, completing his rounds. Just my luck, he was alone. Now all I had to do was lure him inside.

Looking at myself, I deduced that there was only one real surefire way I could do that, and it slightly made me feel nauseas.

I turned to Fatima and I gave her a stern warming. “You tell no one of this.”

Trying to fight back my pride, I slowly walked up to the front door. Taking one deep breath and opened it.

I really can’t believe I’m about to do this.

In the most provocative manner I called out to the soldier, “Hey there. I was looking at you walking back and forth like that. Doesn’t it seem a little boring, doing that all by your lonesome?”

He turned at me, obviously uncomfortable and gave me a reply, “It’s my job, ma’am.”

Trying to get him to bite, I turned it up a notch. Touching my breasts, pretending to adjust my bra, I seductively replied, “That’s a shame. I’m reeaallly bored, and seeing you there, I figured you’re as bored as me. And soldiers…I really love a guy in uniform.”
Stammering, he replied, “You do?”

God damn how long does it take to get this shmuck to get over here? “Of course. What lady wouldn’t want a well to do guy by her side? They’re so hot.”

I saw him tug at his collar, he looked like he was sweating. I have him on my hook, now to reel him in.

“Why don’t you come on in and I’ll show you a good time.”

He nervously looked to his left and right. Seeing no one was watching he dropped what he was doing and ran eagerly inside. I shut the door behind me.

“Alright, baby,” the soldier flirted. “Show me what you can do.”

I gave him a little smile, and gently stroked his chin. With that same hand I quickly smacked his nose and jammed it up his brain. Then similarly I smacked his chin, followed by snapping his neck. I guess that might’ve been a little excessive; after the last few days, I suppose my anger needed an outlet.

Fatima looked at me in shock. I knew by doing this she couldn’t stay here anymore. I had to take her along with me. Plus, I must be half the weight of the man I just killed. I needed her help to carry him.

Dragging him to back door, I shouted back to her, “Come over here and put his arm over your shoulder.” She was apprehensive. “We can’t stay here; they’ll probably notice sooner or later and try to search for him. We need to get out of here.”

She walked over to me with legs shaking. “Look, he isn’t gonna hurt you. Just don’t think about it. Close your eyes or something!”

With great reluctance she did as I instructed. With the back door open, I silently prayed this would work. With both of the soldier’s arms around the two of us we took a step outside. It worked; I made it out.

We carried it over to the corner, well hidden from the sun’s rays. After we laid it down, I procured his guns and ammunition. Now armed with a handgun and rifle, I was ready to get out of here.

“So, do you know where Marcus and your brother and father were heading?” I asked her.

“What I’ve overheard is that they were going to head out of town to the windmills in the southwest,” she stated.

Windmills, out of town? I suppose that would make sense. As a source of power, it could do some damage, albeit minor. Still, it could be enough to grab the army’s attention. And if they send the city’s troops to investigate, that may make taking the town much easier. Separate and take them out.

Still, from what I gather, the windmills are rather far away from here. The next point of business is to find a vehicle. That may take a while.

With a plan in place I signaled Fatima, “Let’s go.”

The alleyways were difficult to traverse. All I knew is from photographic memory, and I doubt that will be enough. I had to search in many places, from alleys to streets to find a vehicle I could steal, and I’d have to do it when no one notices.

Plus I had to wait up for Fatima. “Please stop,” she said, obviously in exhaustion. I relented, and found a small little nook that we could sit down a rest a little bit.

Looking at her, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. She shouldn’t have to go through this.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to go too fast,” I stated.

“It’s ok, Huriyah,” Fatima assured. “That just means I’ll have to work harder to be as strong as you.”

That surprised me. I thought all of the things I was doing was repulsive to her. “I don’t think you want to be like me.”

“Sure I do,” She insisted. “You’re strong, eager, intelligent, beautiful. You are an inspiration to me. You’re what a woman should be.”

I couldn’t help but blush a little. I made a fan. With my face red, I replied, “Thanks, don’t sell yourself short though. You must be strong to live with a father like that. I would’ve fallen apart a long time ago.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she said modestly.

“Sure it is. And when you get out once in awhile, people can see how awesome you truly are.”

Her smile widened. “Thanks,” she answered.

Sadly, the good vibes ended with the sound of a cocked gun. Pointing at my chest was a shotgun, being held by a Confederate Soldier, who was joined by another.

I really hate shotguns…

“Get up!” he demanded of us. I sighed and got up. By the look of his eyes, he was as cold blooded as they get. Not good.

“I knew we had Muslims in this town,” he continued. Obviously Fatima’s hajib tipped him off. “And a sympathizer. Shame, you both do look mighty fine.”

You know, I’m getting a little tired of people thinking I’m a weak, defenseless, second rate person.

His buddy elbowed him and added, “You know, there’s no reason to let them go to waste. Let’s have a little fun. We can waste them after!”

With a cold grin, the soldier replied, “That’s a good idea. Haven’t had a good fucking in awhile.”

Okay, that does it. With a quick movement I smacked his gun away from my chest and shifted to my left, reaching my holster I whipped out my handgun and buried a few bullets in his chest, effectively disabling him.

Sadly I was left wide open to attack, and his friend had his own gun, ready to fire.

…This was gonna hurt.

Closing my eyes, I was prepared to get what was coming to me. What came next was an unexpected sound, similar to a blade being swung in the wind. The man let out a deafening cry. I opened my eyes, and saw the man with his wrist sliced right off. Fatima had a secret underneath that hajib. Her hair was sharp enough to cut like a blade. And with another swing of her head, she decapitated him.

Her defensive nature quickly subsided, and only her surprise and shock remained. I know that look. That was her first kill.

I ran up to her and wrapped her into a hug, trying to console her. “It’s ok, Fatima. It’s ok.”

She began to sob on my shoulder. I couldn’t help but shed a few tears myself. After all the stress I’ve been through the past few days I deserve a good cry, woman or not.

A few minutes later with barely any time to recompose ourselves we moved out. But not before Fatima told me, “Thanks, Huriyah.”

Our goal resumed. Across the alleyways and streets, with a little more discretion we hunted. It’s surprising how few cars there were. I never knew how to hotwire; if we had to take a car we usually got Trish to use her powers to get it started. I needed a vehicle with the keys inside, or at the very least find them on a driver or something. Chances that means another encounter with a Confederate jackass. At least I’ll be on the offensive this time.

Luckily my prayers were answered. There was a humvee patrolling the block, heading this way. This time I figured I’d sacrifice my body in a different way.

“Stay here, Fatima,” I told her, “I’m going to go grab that vehicle.”

She nodded as I had her hold my guns. I ran out from the alleyway and onto the street, right in front of the vehicle, hitting me as the driver screeched his brakes to a bloody halt. He got out of the car to check up on me.
“Damn it,” He cursed, “That’s all I need.”

The pain quickly subsided as I quickly recovered from my injury. With haste I jumped to my feet, reached for his pistol and fired a few rounds, subduing him. With his car still running I motioned Fatima over and we hopped in, driving off.

Mission accomplished. Now to meet up with Mohammed, and give him a piece of my mind.

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 7
by AoifeM

(Taken from Ian’s PoV)

We left sometime earlier than Scott- I mean, the “former” Scott. Her role was now mine to identify with, and it was my job to negotiate a treaty with the leader of the Lake States, Doge Reynold Giovanni. With me was my only bodyguard, Trish. It felt so insignificant from the last time.

Then again, the last time my guardians had died in a rather gruesome manner. At the very least, she knew the lay of the land here. Plus, she seemed really powerful, as I would later find out.

We stopped at an open field just outside of Toledo. Back in the day it probably was used as a corn field. It’s a shame what war can do to something. With the lights turned off, we waited. A man named Sadiq, apparently the older brother of our contact Faried, was to meet us, and that he somehow had the means to get across the border to Michigan. I didn’t question it, so I’ll take whatever help he can get me.

“Let me see your face,” Trish demanded for some odd reason. Staring right back at her she took her hand and suddenly I felt a tingle running through my face. It disappeared in a few seconds and apparently I felt normal.

“Now you don’t look so suspicious,” she explained. Looking into my rearview mirror I can see the subtle changes she made; my face was slightly paler, and my hair was brown- a striking difference from my normal blonde look.

“The best makeup you’ll ever know,” She said, obviously complimenting herself, “Gotta make sure everything goes without a hitch. Who knows who may recognize you.”

Guess she has a point, I am, or rather was, a negotiator for one of the more well to do countries in America. I’m just surprised she does it.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” I asked, still stunned by my new look.

“I’ll let you know when I find something,” She said as she got out of the car. Seeing she was about to leave me behind I got out and followed her. Sometimes I think she may be a little indifferent towards me.

Apparently she saw something I didn’t as if by magic, a strange man crept up from the shadows.

“You must be Ms. Adams.” He said, recognizing Trish. “And this is the great Scott Ryan. It is an honor to finally meet you. You’ve inspired many of people to take arms for a genuine cause.”

Not knowing what to say, I just answered, “Thank you.”

“I am Sadiq Al-said,” he confirmed. “I wish we could talk under more favorable conditions, but I fear we have little time.” Out of his backpack he pulled out something that reminds me of an old genie lamp.

“What are you going to do with that?” I wondered aloud.

“This is my gift,” he said. “Fear not, as long as I am around you will be safe.” All of a sudden with a flick of a wrist I found myself and Trish paralyzed. He began an incantation and suddenly the nozzle end of that lamp began to seem a little bigger, as if it was becoming a black hole, and swallowed us up.

---

I suppose it must’ve been a good ten minutes until I was up on my feet. The whole thing felt like a huge acid trip, and I wasn’t really good with the whole warping feeling.
“Took you long enough,” Trish mocked. She was apparently sitting on a comfortable sofa on top of luxurious brightly colored pillows.

Looking around, you could probably mistake this place for a room in an old Middle Eastern palace. The silk curtains, the gold walls; it was only the tunnel like cavity behind me made me realize that we were literally inside the magic lamp.

“Looks like Sadiq knows how to care of a place,” I commented as I grabbed a pillow a sat down.

“Date?” Trish asked as she handed me a piece of dried fruit.

“Thanks,” I said, taking her offer. “I’m surprised he was able to find such food.”

“I’m surprised he could even shrink them,” she said as we had a good chuckle.

Changing subjects I figured I’d get things off my chest. “Can’t believe I’m about to do this. It’s kind of rough, I still don’t know if I can do it.”

“You’ll be fine,” Trish insisted. “Scott wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”

“So you believe in her?”

She smirked a little, “Without question. I’d follow her to the depths of hell in back.”

“So how long have you known her?”

“It’s going on 5 years,” she replied. “Before I was with her I was a slave.”
That must’ve been rough. Such things are condemned by even the more Wyld unfriendly nations. Many countries keep that hidden, but make no mistake, people do know it happens, and tend to turn a blind eye toward it.

“I was born in Maryland,” she continued. “My parents forced me out, even after all the bullshit treatments they gave me. It’s still United States territory, but in that area there were some Confederate Sympathizers. Seeing I was alone, and I hadn’t really understood my powers yet, I was captured and taken west.”

“I’m sorry,” I sympathized. “I can’t imagine how that must’ve felt.”

“Yeah, but I’m okay now,” she claimed. “Scott saved me. She didn’t have to take such a risk, but she did. She allowed me to follow her, and she taught me that being Wyld wasn’t a curse like my parents thought it to be. In fact, I don’t think I could ever go back to being human.”

“I see. You must hold a lot of respect for her.”

“She’s the only family I got.” Trish stated. Shaking her head though, she commented, “I just wish I could do something to help her in return.”

“Like what?”

Taking a minute before deciding to answer, she finally trusted me enough. “I know that she wasn’t always a girl. I know that there were a lot of things that occurred in her past that makes my trauma pale in comparison. I just want her to accept herself and be happy, just she did for me.”

I see now that beyond the tough exterior that Trish really was a kind and generous soul. I felt I was guilty of disliking her on first impressions. And I’m a negotiator and should know better than that.

Trish stared at me a little and perplexed me by what she said next. “I wonder if she sees something more in you than just this.”
“What do you mean by that?”

Attempting to hold back her giggles, she answered, “Oh, nothing.”

---

Being inside a magic lamp, it was hard to tell how much time has passed. I felt like it had been hours. I was starting to drift off, and Trish was out like a light way before me. About to join her, all of a sudden I felt numb again. Without so much as a moment to prepare we were out and back to normal size on solid soil.

Wide awake now I saw Sadiq out in front of me. Seeing his uniform my eyes grew wide in panic.
Turning to Trish, who was still struggling to awaken, I implored her, “Trish, look!”

She too got a little nervous and immediately stood in a defensive position. Sadiq was wearing a Confederate Uniform.

“Please, stop,” he begged, “I said I would not hurt you.”

“And what makes me want to believe you?” Trish exclaimed.

“Is it a surprise that I am in their army?” he asked. “I am but a spy, working on the inside.”

We let our guard down, and he continued to explain.

“I go by the name Samuel Olsen there. Impressed by my reconnaissance abilities I was made to be their scout. They assume I spy on event from across the border, but in reality I’m doing the exact opposite. This is the only way our Muslim community keeps contact open from the border, and the only way to travel across it.”

It does make sense to have your own set of spies planted inside the army. Feeling a little bit more at ease I started to look around at the scenery.

“So…” I began. “This is the Lake States?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “We are in safe distance from the border now. However my time with you is short, I must return in order to prevent suspicion.”

He turned and pointed to the main road. “There is a guard post up ahead. They are expecting you and will escort you the rest of the way to Detroit. Much luck to you.”

With that he returned to the shadows, leaving us to our next destination.

It was but a few miles until we reached the little outpost. It was surprising that this was the only thing keeping the Confederate forces back. It seemed almost too quiet.

But there it was: a small little base, which defended a small little town. And waiting for us was the commander of the small group; a small, Pixie like girl, with glowing green wings and all, screaming like a drill sergeant.

“Make sure this rail guns are reloaded ASAP! You, yeah you! I want to make sure all the tanks are fueled and in running condition! The rest of you, remain ready for further instructions!”

It’s surprising how well her voice could carry. It didn’t take long for one of her sentries to spot us however, and she quickly allowed her army to lower the gate.

She fluttered towards me, “You must be Scott Ryan,” She stated, “I am Commander Silverwisp of the Lake State Special Forces.” She held out her hand, and I shook it.

“Silverwisp was your real name?” I couldn’t help but asked.

“No, but I felt it went with the look,” she defended. “Let me say you’re an inspiration to me, sir. Because of you I enlisted hoping to further help the status of Wyld in the Lake States region. I’m currently the highest ranking Wyld officer in the entire military.”

I really am surprised how much influence Scott really had. Even Wyld from across the border idolize her. I knew the Lake States weren’t horribly thrilled about the Wyld, but they’re more of a Merchant society. If the Wyld can help and even benefit their bottom line, they could stay, even if their position in society is less than perfect. It was all about how useful you were to the government. And Silverwisp must be very useful.

“Thanks,” I complimented. I couldn’t help but find it funny how one minute she was a fiery drill sergeant and the next she was like a kid meeting Santa Claus for the first time. That’s the weird thing about Fey Wyld; no matter what they do they’ll always carry that cheery disposition.

“My men are on standby!” She said, gushing in pride, “I hope the Doge will give us the signal. I’ve been waiting a long time to pulverize those Confederate meatheads!”

It really took all of my effort not to laugh. It was just too adorable. I’m sure there was more to her than meets the eye though.

“Speaking of the Doge,” I digressed, “We were told somebody will escort us to him.”

“Oh, yeah!” she cried, almost as if she were forgetting that one important detail. “This way!”

She fluttered over to a jeep, which seemed to be getting refueled.

“This jeep is my baby,” She declared. “The plush seats keep the wings from getting crushed. It’s really expensive stuff!”

She then turned to the mechanic refueling her vehicle. “Is it good to go?”

Standing at attention he replied, “Yes ma’am!”

“Alright,” She replied, “I’m to escort these people to the Doge in Detroit. I will be back in a few hours. Make sure you guys stay in line!”

“Yes ma’am.” And with a salute he went back to his regular duties.

“Well, ya ready?” She said in a playful manner. With nothing better to do, and little time to waste, we hopped in. Staring at the brakes I couldn’t help but noticing, were those books tied on to the pedals?

“Buckle up guys!” She cried. I was already getting a little panicky about having a hyperactive pixie driving me to town. I looked at Trish, wondering if she might have shared my sentiment, instead I saw her as relaxed as I have ever seen her.

“These seats are so divine,” Trish proclaimed, having no cares in the world as she slouched further in them.

Without warning Silverwisp started her car, and with full pedal on the gas, she drove off.

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 7
by AoifeM

The sun barely rose and the bazaars of Detroit were already out in full force. Many luxuries, particularly spices, incense, and cashmere, could only be found here. Many of the Middle Eastern Wyld who fled their homes settled in this area; many of them bring their powers over to help manipulate the soils in this area, allowing the growth of many plant goods that normally would be indigenous to the region. Such things, plus their advancements in ethanol technology, made the Lake States a hotspot for economic growth and prosperity.

That was, of course, if their neighbors weren’t blockading their borders. Mormonia was way too immersed in their religious philosophy. Anything that wasn’t approved by their religious leaders could not pass. Texas and Alberta both remain major players in the fossil fuel market. Anything that would negatively affect their sales would be disastrous, as their cultures refuse to adapt. The Canadian Federation is a wild card- they were a group of city states that still hang on to the Canadian name, but all are governed in an entirely different manner, only sharing currency and military, which prevented Wyld enlistment.

And that left the Confederacy. If we took Toledo, that would leave Lake Erie in the clear. If they can get free passage the Lake States can reach their closest trading partner, the remaining United States, which has since claimed the city of Cleveland as its own.

It was my task to convince Doge Giovanni to form an alliance with us, and take Toledo from the Confederate’s hands. That should be the easy part. The difficult part, however, was trying to convince him to allow Toledo to maintain autonomy after its capture, becoming the first piece of land acquired by Scott in the contested region. If I had time to prepare, I may have had a better chance at successfully negotiating an agreement. However I have never met the Doge. I didn't know his personality, and it makes things difficult when there are so many things unknown at this point. It only takes one misstep to ruin everything.

Of course, my biggest worry at the moment is to get to the meeting alive. Our chauffer, Miss Silverwisp, wasn’t making my prospects any better.

Driving more erratically than a drunk driver, she put as much force on the gas as anyone I know. The stacked books strapped on the pedal probably didn't help things. She took out a few fire hydrants and running over potholes as we blazed through the heart of downtown. Many pedestrians were lucky to dodge us as we came roaring down the road.

Honking the horn wildly, she yelled to the outside world, “MILITARY BUSINESS COMIN” THROUGH! GET OUTTA THE WAY!” Honestly, maybe she should stick to flying…

Behind me in the back seat was my capable partner, Trish. She was fast asleep on those plush like seats. Under normal circumstances they would be rather comfortable, but not when every turn led to another flash of life appearing before my eyes. If any enemy was out there scouting Trish’s weakness, they have it now: soft furniture.

Over the horizon was our destination and my proverbial light at the end of the tunnel- The polis of Detroit. With the slam of the breaks Trish was jerked awake, and I was counting my blessings I made it through this alive.

Jumping out of the car, Silverwisp gave me a confident smile, “Go get ‘em, big guy! Do you need me to stick around after your through?”

Shaken to the core with that thought, I shook my head and profusely insisted, “No, no! Don’t worry about us! You should get back to base and prepare just in case we get the go ahead!”

“Optimistic are you?” she inferred. “That’s what I like about you! Always thinking ahead! I guess I’ll see you on the battlefield!”

With that she drove away; the clouds of exhausts trailing her from behind. Now that that was out of the way, I began to take focus on the task ahead.

Sensing a little bit of stage fright, Trish did her best to calm my nerves. “Don’t worry. Just do what I know you’re capable of. You’ll be fine.”

Taking a deep breath, we slowly climbed up the stairs leading into the polis entrance. We were stopped by a cohort of security guards. These were no ordinary guards; they were the Missa Solemnis- the Solemn Mass. They say nothing, they show nothing; their face is stone, as if they were nothing more than machines. The mere presence of their countenance was enough for most people to think twice about messing with them, and those who do, well, apparently they’re never heard from again.

Checking us for any hidden weapons gave us both a rather uncomfortable feeling. After they frisked us they allowed us entrance. We entered through the antique wooden doors and made our way down the immense hallway; two Solemni followed at distance, only adding to my already unnerving disposition.

Through another set of doors we reached the forum, where the Doge was waiting. He didn’t hesitate to start speaking.

“Don’t you find it wonderful?” He began. “I’ve always had an interest of old, ancient cultures and traditions. Rome, Venice, Athens, Arabia- Just look how it made even the most defiled cities into a magnificent culture hub!”

He only spoke a few words and yet I was already trying to get a good feel on who I was working with. He seems to be one of those people who carried a self-serving bias, I thought to myself. He’s already bragging about his accomplishments. I needed to take this to mind when I start negotiating with him.

“To me life is about worth,” he continued. “And to me, you are nothing more than dogs.”

And he’s an arrogant prick to boot. This will be a tough job.

He walked up to me, and as callously as he could he asked, “Tell me, what purpose is there for you to come to my grand nation? Is it to grovel? What purpose would there for me to ally with you? What could you say to me that you could not have said to my Merchant General? The very one you crushed under a pile of rubble!”

Of course it came back to that time in Columbus. I was there too, buddy. Looks like that was my first goal of business; to convince him we weren’t involved.

“Your eminence,” I began. “You must believe me when I say that we were set up. What purpose would we, a small rebellion whose lives depend solely on remaining hidden, come out the open, to you, knowing full well that our group would be destroyed if I were to be disposed of?”

“And who do you suppose would have done such a thing?” the Doge questioned. “It was not as we did not see with our own two eyes the filthy look and nature that one would normally associate with such a rebellion. Then again, I suppose your type would not have heard of such amenities as the television.”

Responding, along with giving a little inadvertent jab at the glamorously groomed ruler, I replied, “In war, the one who wins isn’t the one with the more pristine uniforms.”

Slightly taken aback by my comments, he shrugged it off and inferred, “So then, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

“Well, your Excellency,” I continued. “There were three members present at the time of the attack. One was members of your faction, the second from the United States, and the third from Cascadia. We were indeed invited to join as a member of these negotiations. However, it proved rather difficult for us to make it when we are in Confederate territory. It is not like we can just walk through the front gate, so to speak.”

Intrigued, he allowed me to continue. “Go on”

“Would it be so hard to believe if one were to say the Confederacy blocked us from arriving, disguised them to look like us “filth”, and destroy the government complex, pinning the blame ultimately on us?”

“Hmmm,” The doge pondered, seemingly unimpressed by my explanation. Still, if there’s one thing that someone like him cares more than vindication is the smell of money. If he can get something out of it, then maybe it’s enough to save my hide.

He finally spoke. “Suppose I were to believe your story. Suppose you’re not as foolish as I had first believed. What exactly do I get from such an alliance from you?”

“Well,” I began to respond, “The most obvious gain would be the removal of the Confederate presence on your front door. Detroit has a little more breathing room and the blockade would effectively be removed, allowing you safe passage through Lake Erie, allowing access to your potential customers.”

“And what can you do to ensure our victory?” the doge questioned. “My armies are heavily armed, and yet we have never broken through. You are but table scraps!”

“Never underestimate the power of asymmetrical warfare,” I told him. “We do the dirty work, setting off distractions, getting the Confederate soldiers to move away from the comfort of their home base. We can attack from the shadows. Our “drab” look makes us blend in. They will have a difficult time separating friend from foe. With all the problems within their own town, they will be unaware of your surprise attack.”

“I see,” he said, “Perhaps if you prove useful I will spare you from punishment. Another city in my ranks would be of benefit.”

“We would prefer to claim Toledo as part of the rebellion,” I stated.

“And who are you to make demands to me?” he scoffed, looking down on me like I was a leper.

“Think of it this way,” I told him, “We wish to be an Autonomous government, ran similarly like Windsor to your east. Free trade, free borders. Uninhibited access through Lake Erie. And another potential trading partner, which could further help expand your trade empire without a loss of life.”

“Hmph, whatever,” He finally accepted. “We’ll allow your stupid state to go through. I have heard enough. We will prepare the troops. Now leave me.” With a motion of his wrist he shooed us off. I would have to think even the most composed negotiator would attack him in a fit of rage. He's lucky I have a lot riding on this.

With that we turned and left through the very doors we came in through. Trish seemed absolutely surprised how smooth everything went.

“I can’t believe he was so easy to convince,” she whispered to me as we walked down the halls.

“Oh, I don’t expect him to keep the bargain,” I admitted to her. “He’s just making good use of us before he stabs us in the back. He's not one to accept compromise. He wants everything. I fully expect him to betray us, it’s inevitable.”

“Then why are we just turning away like this?” Trish questioned.

“Might as well get just as much use out of him,” I answered her bluntly. “Besides, I don’t think he is the one I need to convince.”

“You don’t?” She said, looking at me with wonderment.

“Don’t worry,” I told her as I sported a conniving grin. “I have a plan. And you can be sure that it will get results.”

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of It All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 9
By AoifeM

It didn’t take too long to spot the smoke clouds in the distance. The battle was already in progress, and the way it was being fought was too reckless even for my rebellion. However, for someone as stubborn and adamant like Mohammed, well, I wouldn’t put it pass him.

The Four Windmills was an unofficial landmark of Ohio. It was quite the site as you traveled out from the old Bowling Green Campus- The campus I would have attended if I hadn’t had the unplanned sex change. Then again, it wouldn’t be a year later when the campus would shut down entirely; the Confederacy gained control of the state one year later.

And with its control all the power from these windmills were redirected into the city, which was needed to create a new fortified base to defend from Lake State incursions. While back in the day it proved a necessity, over the next ten years new plants and power supplies made the windmills irrelevant. Still they are a part of the city’s power grid. Even a minor fluctuation could sound off the alarms.

Of course there are better ways to go about getting the job done besides charging headfirst into the heat of battle. The Windmills are guarded by a small base of about 60 soldiers. A highly trained military force might be able to take them, but for the ragtag group that I employed a Pyrrhic victory was all that awaited them.

I couldn’t change anything now. We had to eliminate the troops quickly and destroy those windmills before reinforcements arrive.

And once through I’m gonna rip that jackass Mohammed a new one, so help me God.

And by my side was Mohammed’s little daughter, Fatima. Seeing her in action, she was a rather formidable fighter, even if her father thinks less of her. However I still felt guilty having her with me. She was still young; a newborn Wyld, if you would. To be so young and already tasting the bitter taste of war pained me. I wish I could just find a place to hide her as I join the fray, but there was no time to spare. I had one advantage that my soldiers didn't- It takes a lot more than bullets to kill me.

…Time for my biggest strength to become my biggest curse. Reaching down my holster, I pulled out my 9mm. Reaching for a clip I loaded it and immediately handed it to Fatima.

With her eyes widened, she cried, “What do you want me to do with this!?”

With my eyes on the road I put a hand on her shoulder and replied. “I’m gonna go out there and lure them out. I want you to cover me.”

“What?” she screamed, obviously stunned by what I was suggesting. “I’ve never handled a gun in my life! What if I hit you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her matter of factly. “I’ll be fine. Now, get down!”
Nearly at the front gate I slammed my foot on the brakes and power slid my humvee 90 degrees, providing Fatima the cover she needed.

"Stay behind the vehicle," I implored. "Do not come near me, no matter what the circumstances."

With the dust clouds impeding the enemies’ sight, I grabbed a hold of my Sub Machine Gun and vaulted out the car door, guns blazing. If this was an MMORPG, I would be the tank, and it was time to get agro.

I began by immediately targeting the sentry towers; if anything would cause me the biggest trouble it would be them. With a quick glance I aimed my gun and began to fire, killing the guard in a pre-emptive strike as I sprayed the tower with rounds of bullets. With a swift shift to my right, I shot the guard from the other tower; the bullets flying like mad, they didn’t see it coming.

Even though the gun was rather inaccurate, it did its job. And it looked like it got the troops attention. The guards were swarming out from the gate. With my gun reloaded I began to shoot them as they appeared. Obviously this wasn’t going to last forever, but that was the point. I was out in the open; nothing short of painting a giant bullseye on my body could make me a bigger target.

…And how I was a glutton for punishment.

I unloaded another round as I began to take shots in my abdomen. I struggled as I loaded another magazine, only further hampered as I took a shot in the shoulder.

Kneeling in agony and only able to hold on by adrenaline at this point, I resumed firing. Everything was in slow motion. It was like an old school war movie. It’s a shame this is real life.

I was out of ammo, and I was out of gas. A quick shot in my head and I was out. My last thought was, please Fatima don’t go running out to assist me.

Death is a funny feeling. It’s a lot like sleeping really. People talk about out of body experiences or visiting old loved ones or whatnot, but I haven’t had any of those. Then again, maybe I haven’t been dead long enough to find out. Time just seems to stop. Hell, it might’ve felt like two hoursin my mind only to find when I come to it’s only been a few minutes.

It took nothing more than a poke from an enemy soldier’s shotgun butt to stir me back to consciousness. I could feel the presence of the confederate soldiers surrounding me.

...Fools.

As they began to walk back to base, not even paying attention to my humvee, most likely because of the battle on the opposite end of the field. The bullets fell out of my open wounds as the injuries began to seal themselves up. Time to surprise these idiots a second time.

I discreetly loaded my gun as I rose from the blood stained ground. With a sly tone I called out to the soldiers. “Hey, boys.”

They turned around as I began to fire at the once again. They were hopeless, like sitting ducks as I put a few soldiers out of their misery. Signaling Fatima, she rose from behind our vehicle and pelted a couple more. With just the two of us we successfully took out one third of their men out.

Fatigued beyond belief I fell to the ground- rapid regeneration can do that to you. With everything in the clear Fatima ran up to me and wrapped herself over my shoulder for support.

“Are you okay?” She asked. “Did I shoot you?”

A bullet- most like from her gun, dislodged from my forearm as the wound healed shut. “Eh heh,” I laughed weakly, “But a flesh wound.”

“You have an amazing gift,” she claimed, “I just wished you would’ve said something about that earlier. Seeing you shot like that nearly traumatized me!”

I apologized. “…Sorry.”

With her support I made my way inside the base. My distraction proved beneficial; by splitting up their forces my rebellion made quick work of the rest, suffering few casualties. Marcus and Faried were there, standing by.
Staggering, barely able to stay on my feet, Marcus recognized me and quickly alerted the troops. “Look!” he cried.

“Fatima!” Faried also exclaimed as he began running to my direction.

Now surrounded by friendly faces I let go of Fatima, allowing her to embrace her brother.

“What are you doing here?” A dismayed Faried asked his sister.

“She needed my help to escape,” she explained.

“She did a good job,” I told him. “She’s a strong woman.”

Turning to her, he squeezed her tightly in his embrace. Even though I could tell how protective he was of his sister, he also was proud of her. Sometimes I wish I knew someone like that who was just as proud of me.

Interrupting my train of thought, Marcus came over and started to apologize to me. “Sorry. I knew that Mohammed was a misogynist but I didn’t think he could go as far as that. I should have waited on you.”

“It’s okay, Marcus,” I consoled him. “I should’ve been more careful.”

Letting go of his sister, he turned to me and explained. “Yes, my father’s power of escort. He can place barriers over persons of the opposite sex, giving them protection as long as no one enters the barrier. Of course, that can be as much a hindrance as it is a benefit.”

“Yeah…” I cynically replied. “I’ve noticed.”

Mohammed and his group of Muslim militants marched out from behind the corner. Witnessing my escape, along with his daughter in tow, he shouted. “How dare you leave my sanctum without my consent! And to bring my daughter…”

I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, but Fatima had beaten me to the punch. “How dare you father for restraining a major part of their army without cause!”

“Without cause?” He mimicked. “She is a woman! She has no business being in the field of battle!”

“And you have no right holding her to the edicts of our religion!” She interjected. “If those truly are the edicts. As I have read, I thought our Prophet held women in high regard, not purely pets, privy to a man’s command!”

Mohammed was speechless. This must’ve been the first time she ever talked back to him. And in my mind I was cheering her on. At this point I was her number one fan.

“Do you not understand what we are fighting for?” She continued. “We’re fighting for the right to live, as Muslim and Nasnas! We are so discriminated by these Confederate soldiers that they treat us like cattle, diseased and destined to be shot. What makes their hatred of us any different than your hatred of us?

“I…I don’t hate you,” Mohammed said profusely.

“You may not,” she stated. “But your actions say otherwise. It is obvious you treat Faried and Sadiq with much more respect than I.”

“It’s not that…” He didn’t have time to finish

Fatima was on a roll; she interrupted her father and resumed her verbal assault. “This woman saved your life. She had killed many of our foes, allowing our victory, without the blood of our warriors. She has shown me true strength, strength in which I now use against you. I want to fight for our freedom. But not just freedom for our kind, or our religion, but freedom for my gender as well. If we are to live in harmony, then we must be equal in all facets. I will not hide in your shadow any longer, father. I will fight, and together we will build a brighter future.”

The whole area was silent. It was a rather awkward situation, having seen a fight that normally should be restricted indoors in private.

Faried walked forward, and declared resoundingly, “I’m with my sister. She is my other half, and she deserves to be my equal.”

The Muslim squad protecting Mohammed slowly walked over and joined him. It was obvious he was defeated, and had no choice but to capitulate. If he wanted freedom, it wouldn’t be under his terms.

“I’m sorry I have to interrupt this moment,” Marcus chimed in, “but we need to finish what we started. Reinforcements are going to be on their way in no time.”

Even though this wasn’t the most well thought out plan, the distraction was a success. With all this bloodshed, I didn’t even think we had to destroy the windmills at this point. However, I’m a completionist, I never leave a job half done. Besides, even if it wouldn’t drain a whole lot of power, you never know how much it’ll impact everything in the future.

“Call Grond,” I commanded. “Take a small team over to cover him. Take out the windmills.” At this point I was rather woozy. I needed to lie down.

“Alrighty,” Marcus agreed as he went about his way, carrying out my orders. All that remained were Fatima and Faried, who were worried about my condition.

“We need to take her someplace safe and let her rest,” Fatima said.

Faried didn’t hesitate. Using his arms he picked me up and carried me to safety. I was like a bride being carried off by her groom, his arms cradling me against his chest as he walked towards the one of their stolen army trucks.

I hate being a featherweight…

Off in the distance you could hear the destruction as the windmills began to fall similar to a tree falling after being chopped. I wanted to yell “Timber!” but I didn’t have the strength. It wouldn’t be long until the confederates will be checking in.

Mohammed, along with the other troops, was waiting. I still had enough in the tank to get in my two cents. Motioning Faried to let me down, I walked up to Mohammed.

With my face up to his ear, I sternly whispered, “You ever do that to me again, I’ll rip off your testicles and use them as a talisman.”

With my mind finally cleared I hopped into the back seat of my car, and drifted to sleep. Act one was a success. Next comes the grand finale. I just hope everything is going well from Ian’s end.

It’s up to him now.

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

(Author's note: Since this is the climax of my story, this will be in two different parts, in the eyes of both my protagonists. This one will be in Ian's PoV. Scott's will be posted a few days later.)

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Part 10A
By AoifeM

Hitching a ride from a Military escort, Trish and I were taken south, just outside of Silverwisp’s military encampment. It was dreadfully quiet; not a single person at the facility it felt like it was practically abandoned.

Without any prior notice Trish grabbed my hand and took refuge behind a worn wooden fence.

Obviously a little confused, I blurted, “What’d you do that for?”

“Shhh!” She signaled to me. At a whisper she replied, “Look over there.”

Motioning me to look around the fence I peaked a glance at the scenery beyond. It was a group of twenty, maybe thirty Confederate soldiers. What the hell were they doing here? Was our plan compromised?

I was able to listen into the soldiers’ conversations, and picked up some of what they were saying.

“I can’t believe those Laker boys would leave this base so unguarded,” said one of them. Guess they grew yellow!”

“Maybe there wasn’t any profit to be made sitting around here!” Another soldier said, chuckling to himself, lord knows military equipment doesn’t sell!”

“Just a bunch of dumbasses,” Claimed another, “Have to appreciate Sammie finding this out for us!”

Sammie? Did he mean Sadiq? I turned to Trish hoping she could help sort my thoughts.

Worried, I asked, “You don’t think Sadiq…”

I didn’t finish my sentence when I heard the sound a gun, firing. It came from a roof directly overhead from the troops, and the bullet connected, assassinating the oblivious soldier.

It was an ambush, and they were like flies to the candle. Like chameleons, swarms of Laker troops magically appeared out of nowhere, surrounding the hapless soldiers. Whatever soldier training the Confederates had was thrown out the window as they fought frantically to remain alive. There was some sort of respect there, that even though they were outnumbered they rather die than surrender.

They had no chance however. It was almost alarming watching them die. There’s a point where respect turns into recklessness, and I was hoping and praying that these soldiers had the common sense to give up. I never been involved in something like this, and the fact that I’ll see more scenes like this in the future didn’t sit well with me.

All of a sudden the remaining soldiers were caught in a magic golden bubble. Suddenly they shrunk to pint size. Fluttering down to the ground, Silverwisp picked up the entrapped miniature soldiers.

She giggled a little bit, and teased, “Awww, they’re so cute! I wanna take ‘em all home and feed them and hug ‘em and luff ‘em!”

Seeing the coast was clear I immediately rised to greet our fairie friend. “Silverwisp!”

Seeing me, she waved. “Hi there guys!” She cheerfully cried. “Did you see that? Sorry about that, hehe!”

“Not really a fan of seeing so much useless deaths,” I commented, trying to hide my overall queasiness of the situation.

“Yeah,” She sympathized. “War is definitely not in my character. I’d rather have a nice pretty place, deep in a forest, in a little grove, in a little house carved high on a hanging tree.”

Staring at her now baseball sized golden orb, holding the remaining soldiers, she remarked, “Yeah, I’m not a fan of senseless murder either. I hope that maybe these little guys here will think different of me, seeing I had shown them mercy after all.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “Maybe if we win back Toledo you can grow your forest, and have a home of your own, along with many other Wyld like yours.”

Her pointy little ears perked up after hearing that, “Really? Really, truly? I would like that.”

---

Five minutes later Sadiq made his way into Silverwisp’s barracks, where we were waiting. Wearing his Confederate uniform, he greet us with a bow.

“Master Ryan, Miss Adams, Miss Silverwisp,” He began, “I am glad our little ambush worked well as planned.”

“You know it Sadie!” Silverwisp exclaimed.

“You know I don’t like being called ‘Sadie’,” he whined.

“So that ambush was your doing then?” I assumed.

“Correct,” he replied, “Being a major base of Confederate control, there will be many soldiers. It would be wise to pick as many off as we can and divert their attention from our primary goal. I hear my brother’s party has been doing the same. Many of their soldiers are heading southwest of the city to investigate the happenings of their base at the Four Windmills.”

“I see,” I affirmed.

“However, if we are going to strike, we must do it now,” he answered. “I trust that the Doge’s response was positive?”

“We’re good to go,” I responded.

“Locked and loaded!” Silverwisp exclaimed.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Silverwisp,” Sadiq continued, “I would like to take a small group of your soldiers across the front gate. I can hide them within my magic lamp, and release them. My goal is to get the gate forced open, and from there, your troops can enter.”

“It would be dangerous,” she stated, “We’d have to it before the sun is down.”

“The sun is down?” I wondered. “Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to hide at night while waiting for him?”

“As you saw earlier,” Sadiq explained, “Silverwisp has control over the powers of light, refracting energy, which allowed her soldiers to hide without any trouble.

“Like a chameleon,” I quipped.

“Yup yup!” She answered. “Unfortunately, that means my strengths are primarily limited to daytime hours. I need the sun to cast it.” She stared at her golden orb. “Even these little guys are just refracted light, making them look tiny and us gigantic through our own eyes. They’ll have to be imprisoned shortly.”

“It is early evening now,” Sadiq confirmed. “And as well, the other group is on standby, outside town. They are not in the most enviable of positions. We need to go now.”

“We’ll volunteer to join you taking out the gate,” Trish offered, not even giving me the opportunity to decide myself.

“Of course,” Sadiq agreed, “It would be very poor tact for us to fight without the Great Leader Scott Ryan at our side.”

Staring at me, I rolled my eyes. Why did I ever decide to do this?

---

So it wasn’t long before Trish and I were back in Sadiq’s magic lamp. Joining us was three other soldiers. Obviously we had to be discrete. Plus, it wasn’t like there’s a whole lot of room in here.

One of the soldiers was Wyld in nature. He was about six and a half feet tall, and bulging in muscle. I looked at his pale, nearly grey skin. He obvious didn’t take my staring very well.

“What?” he growled.

“I was just wondering what you did,” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t get too offended.

“I am called Eel,” he claimed. He then proceeded to send electricity throughout his gigantic body. “That is my power.”

His ability freaked Trish out. Jumping, she cried, “Cut that out! I can’t deal with that!”

“Huh?” I said, dumbfounded. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you know I’m a Cyber right?” She answered, “An electrical charge like that and I’m out like a light. These nanomachines can’t take it.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” The imposing Eel replied, “It was not my intention to cause you harm.”

She sighed. “Men…give them Wyld powers and they play with it like it was a toy or something.”

“So why are you here?” I inquired.

“The gate is electronically bound,” he answered, “However if you had her with you perhaps it would have been wise if I remained.”

“No,” Trish countered, “You will be of great service for us. It will make my job much easier.”

“I appreciate your vote of confidence,” Eel said, “It will be an honor to work with you.”

Trish gave him a slight smile. Meanwhile the other two soldiers were loading their guns, their minds obviously focused on the task at hand.

I followed their example. I was actually kind of nervous. I was trying to be two people at once. Sure, I’m a man. That makes me the perfect candidate for being “Scott Ryan.” But there’s one thing the real Scott had that I didn’t: Battle experience. She had a very strong demeanor to her. She was trained, physically as well as mentally. The whole point of me being a negotiator was to use my words to fight my battles. Now I replace my words with a gun. Being Scott Ryan the man, isn’t the same as being Scott Ryan, the soldier.

I felt my body turning numb. I knew the time had come. He successfully made it to the gatekeeper, who resided with a small legion of bodyguards on the top floor of the sentry tower, which overlooked the gate below.

Now with us out in the open, his legion was totally caught offguard. One of the guards yelled, “Shit! Sammie’s a traitor!”

“WYLD!” was the cry as his throat was punctured by one of Sadiq’s bullets.

It was too late however. The alarm was sound, and we were noticed. With the guards finally defeated we quickly took cover close to the doorway. Reloading, Sadiq cried, “We’ll cover you! Miss Trish! Eel! Please get the gate open, quickly."

“Give me just a second!” Trish implored. Putting her hands on the control panel she began to close her eyes. She looked almost unconscious as the nanomachinery siphoning her fingertips invaded the control panel below. It seemed as if she was analyzing its functions, trying to find access to the gate controls.

Meanwhile the rest of us defended her, taking out soldiers as they ran up the stairs and through the door. However it didn’t seem like there was any sense of urgency from them. I wouldn’t be surprised if Scott was in the other end of town, making a mess of them.

Finally, Trish was able to lower the gate. “There!” She cried.

“Eel,” Sadiq commanded, “Take care of the rest. I suggest we make our way out of here.”

Quickly we agreed, and ran down the stairs to meet with Silverwisp’s army. Once outside Eel decided to cut the power from the tower forcefully, using his electrical charge to fry the terminals, and cause a major explosion, causing the tower to collapse. There was no way to raise the gate now, and the Laker troops were able to swarm into the city.

Driving her customized Humvee Silverwisp came to an abrupt stop. Looking over at us she smiled and praised, “Looks like you handled that A-okay!”

“Yeah,” I replied, “The soldiers weren’t all that overwhelming.”

“They most likely are fighting the other group on the other side of town,” Sadiq confirmed, “Chances are if that’s the case they won’t last much longer. We’ll need to rejoin the group.”

I agreed. Time was on the essence. Without thinking I jumped in Silverwisp’s vehicle. I just pray that she don’t kill me before then.

---

It was well known at this point. The city was under attack, and the Confederates were caught by surprise; the distractions, the ambushes- anything that could separate their forces provided us the advantage we needed. Now with the Laker military on our side the forces were heavily in our favor. Sadiq, Trish and Eel decided to head onward towards the command center. With Silverwisp’s heavy artillery the plan was to totally demolish the place. Anyone who would try to flee from there was either caught or killed. My hope was for the former.

And in the middle of the city was Scott, leading her troops as she was pinned down by gun fire. Luckily for us the Confederates weren’t paying attention to us coming from behind, and as a result we surprised them. Under Silverwisp's command we opened fire, spraying the opposition with bullets as Scott and her army immediately ducked for cover. Like a swarm of bees the bullets finished the soldiers off before they could react.

Now the coast was clear, Scott rushed over to me and gave me a big hug. She didn’t even realize how girly she was acting until she noticed her leg bent upward as the sole of her foot pointed to the sky.

She immediately let go. Beet red, she nervously tried to divert her embarrassment. “So…um,” She stuttered, “How’s things on your end?”

I couldn’t help but blush a little myself. I answered. “Looks like everything is working as planned. Their base is being bombarded, and Silverwisp’s troops are taking the power plant as we speak. Shouldn’t be too long until we cut the power.”

“…Silverwisp?” Scott said, seeing she never met her. I pointed at my diminutive little friend as she gave a little wave.

“I feel kinda awkward,” Silverwisp began, “I mean, you guys seem to be all lovey-dovey with the hugs and stuff…”

“We aren’t a couple!” Scott snapped, obviously not thrilled at the suggestion.

“Oh!” Silverwisp exclaimed, “That makes me feel a little better! Hehe!”

All of a sudden a soldier came up to debrief us. “Ms. Silverwisp! Ma’am!”

“Yes?” she asked. It was so adorable how she tried to change her demeanor from super hyperactive sprite to serious war captain.

“We have successfully cut the power from the enemy’s base. The command center has been bombarded and destroyed. Their soldiers are disorganized; many have escaped or gone into hiding.”

“So I take it we won?” She eagerly queried.

“It seems to be the case, ma’am,” the soldier responded.

“All we need to do is some house cleaning then!” She exclaimed. “Alright, go scout around for some stragglers. Try to keep them alive if possible!”

The soldier saluted her and ran off to follow her orders. Scott and I smiled. We won. Toledo was ours.

“I can’t believe it,” She said, exhaling in relief. “We finally have a place to call our own. This is so overwhelming.”

“Well, you better believe it,” I replied. “Maybe we should check out the command center. Or at least what’s left of it.”

With Scott nodding in agreement, we hitched a ride in Silverwisp’s vehicle, and headed to our new home. The battle was over, but I fear that the war hasn't even reached its apex. We still had a long road ahead of us.

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

(This part shows the battle of Toledo from Scott's PoV. To see it in Ian's PoV read part 10A).

The Heart of it All
A Wild Universe Story
Part 10B
by AoifeM

We waited in a dark forest, looking down in the distance at our main goal: Toledo. It was late afternoon; we spent the vast majority of the day raiding and destroying their base near the Four Windmills, which most likely got their attention. My biggest fear was the not-so-subtle way we did it. Such total destruction could cause a bigger reaction than was necessary. An unknown disruption may provide reason to send troops to investigate. However if someone called in the attack, it might put Toledo on high alert, actually making our planned attack even harder than before.

We didn’t have a lot of time on our hands. Watching the motorcade of military being sent off to investigate, it would only be a matter of time before they call in and send word of the massacre. We had a small window of opportunity.

However, we couldn’t go in guns blazing. It nearly got us killed the last time; this time it would be suicide. We needed to be sure Ian and company had the go ahead. Luckily Faried has been keeping in close contact with his older brother, Sadiq, awaiting confirmation that they were ready on their end. The objective as I was told was to create a big enough distraction so that a small group of Laker troops would infiltrate the city and open the gate which separated the two borders. All we needed was the troop’s assistance.

And confirmation was about to come any time now.

Marcus turned to me, and wondered, “Are you scared?”

“It’s hard to be scared when you can’t die,” I replied rather bluntly

He gave a little chuckle. “There are a lot worse things to fear than death.”

“Thanks for the wakeup call,” I sarcastically quipped.

Suddenly I could hear the static coming from Faried’s walkie-talkie device. Yes, it’s primitive, what did you expect?

Hearing it react, Faried grabbed it from its holster and responded. “Yes, my brother. Are you ready?”

I couldn’t really catch it from here. I just hoped and prayed that Ian was successful.

“Very good,” he replied. “We shall do our best. Be swift, I know not how long we can last.”

Turning off his walkie-talkie, Faried relayed the good news. “They have the cooperation from the nearby Laker army. They’ve accepted the plan, and are heading south as we speak. We all are ready.”

“Looks like the moment of truth,” I commented. “Hey, don’t get yourself killed old man.”

With a wily grin on his face he loaded his gun and replied, “I’m not worried- I have God on my side.”

Turning to Grond I commanded, “Grond, time to make the Scottish jealous!”

He knew what I meant. With his immense strength he pulled two finely rooted oak trees from the ground below and threw them each over his shoulder. Getting on his trailer, the rest of us joined him, loading up our trucks and starting our engines. We had to make this count; none of our ammunition could be spared.

We moved out; the town was barely 2 miles ahead. They would be waiting. We were in plain sight. Closing in on the sentry towers, it was time to put Grond into good use. Driving the truck that hauled my giant companion, I rolled down my window, turned my head to him, and yelled, “Throw them Grond! Throw them!”

And with his immense strength he did, throwing the trees like they were javelins. Like a rocket they soared, absolutely scaring the tower’s inhabitants. Even the concrete enforced towers couldn’t hold from the unstoppable force of his throw, causing the both to collapse with little effort.

With nothing to impede us we sped into the town. We needed to get in as far as we can so we can draw as much attention to us as possible. With soldiers practically tailgating us we did our best to shoot down as many as we possibly could; there’s no reason to make this harder than needed.

We came to a stop right at the center of town, equidistant from the Command Center and all the major entrances. We huddled our cars up into a square like formation, taking up as much space as possible. The more room we had, the less likely we all die from clustered attacks such as explosions or tank fire.

Grond continued to cause chaos, this time unearthing a couple traffic light poles to use as I instructed. Many of those went to destroying tanks as they entered the general area, thus saving us some valuable ammunition.

And we need every bit of it. Fatima was right beside me, covering me whenever I needed to reload. She definitely has gotten better with her aim. I suppose there’s more incentive to learn such things when your life and freedom are on the line.

And finally I got to see Faried’s power up close. Apparently he can deal damage using a person’s shadow. He causes them to explode quite literally, creating craters one the ground and intense pain on the person whose shadow he messes with. The craters were helpful in damaging any vehicle which was unlucky to run over it.

Finally it seemed as if Mohammed’s barriers were put into good use. He shielded Fatima and me, and any bullet that was shot at us was deflected with no trouble. Seeing this as an advantage, we decided to make the fight much more up close and personal. Together we left our cover and charged straight towards the enemy. Fatima undid her hijab and revealed her blade like hair. With her resolve she began to flail her head wildly, ripping through the soldiers she encountered like a hot knife through butter. I couldn’t help but wonder what Mohammed thought about his little daughter now. For now on she wouldn’t be bossed around.

Meanwhile I too took advantage of my temporary barrier. Now obviously, being a woman made it a little more difficult for me to face an enemy of the male gender, but I could hold my own. Over the years I became pretty proficient in hand-to-hand combat. I had to be, seeing I had the skill to survive fatal attacks. When starting out I was rather weak at firing a gun. Furthermore the kickback I received shocked me. I used to have pretty stable wrists, but as a girl, it took a long time to adapt to my new form. In any event, to compensate I learned to melee, and it definitely had its advantages.

Sadly, holding on was a little difficult for Mohammed. Apparently continuous power makes it difficult for him to maintain such a thing.

With our barrier wearing off Fatima cried, “We need to go back!” I nodded and made my way back behind cover.

It was looking good for us. We were able to stave off the oncoming enemies. However, our good fortune ended as a giant motorcade arrived from our six, catching us by surprise.

“It’s the troops that were sent to the Windmills!” Marcus yelled as he started to pick a couple soldiers from their side.

“Looks like they were called back a little early,” I guessed. “This won’t be easy.”

We had soldiers attacking us from two sides now. Our shelter was looking more and more compromised. Grond did the best he could eliminating the vehicles that came our way, but even if he could shrug off bullets he has limits as well, and the pain was obviously getting to him.
Using what powers we could we tried to outlast them as much as we could. Faried continued to deal damage to the soldiers with his shadow flares, and Fatima and I continued to amass many kills as well, alternating between firing our guns and attacking up close depending on when Mohammed’s power was recharged.

Of course we were sitting ducks when one of the Confederate soldiers nicked Mohammed’s shoulder as a bullet passed right through it. The loss of concentration dispelled our barrier and we quickly had to take cover. I did my best to pull the enemy’s fire toward me as Fatima headed to safety. Drawing my gun I shot the soldier’s who dared to even target her. I sustained a couple gunshot wounds as I stumbled back to safety. Luckily I made it, and Fatima didn’t sustained injury.

“Are you alright?” She asked, obviously concerned.

Watching the bullets slowly emerge from my healing body, I grimaced and replied, “Ugh…yeah.”

Of course Faried seemed to be panicky as he ran to his wounded father. “Father!” He cried, holding him up as his strength began to leave him.

“I…am okay,” Mohammed struggled to say. “I’ll be alright. Keep fighting, you can’t waste time like this.”

With a nod he left him with parting words. “Hang in there, father.”

Perhaps he could hang in there. The rest of us, however, were an entirely different story. Our bullets were running out, and we no longer had any protection going melee. Likewise strain was creeping in. Overusing powers can wear a Wyld out in a hurry, similar to what happened to me while fighting at the Four Windmills. Some are lucky, like Fatima, whose hair is a part of her, and doesn’t need to rest or recharge. But those like Faried, who actually does use a form of “magic” to create his attacks, can wear him out rather quickly. Grond was incapacitated. We were running out of time. I hope that Ian can save us.

The sun was setting. I was amazed how much effort my troops were giving. I was proud of each and one of them. I was quickly losing hope. Maybe the fighting on their end was just as intense. Either way, I was glad they stuck it out with me, even if they never knew, that the man they truly idolized was with them till the very end; as a woman, a woman whose best days of living was being a part of the guys one last time.

I closed my eyes. If there was anything I could do, I could sacrifice myself one last time, giving my troops slightly more time in hopes that maybe our two teams can reunite. I loaded my final clip. I was ready.

When I raised my head however, I saw my glimmer of hope. Behind those troops were a cavalry of vehicles, each donning the Lake State insignia. The Confederates were so focused in fighting us I don’t believe any of them realized what was coming from behind. Immediately I ducked as the Laker Army fired upon the hapless soldiers, the bullets sprayed all over as they easily shifted the odds to our favor.

Assisting our new reinforcements it didn’t take much time at all to finish them off. The battle was over, and we hastily reunited with our friends from the other unit.

Seeing Ian climbing out of a Humvee my emotions got the better of me. With untold glee I jumped on him, hugging him in a deep embrace. God I was so happy to see him…

It only took me a minute to realize how bad this looked. Seeing my leg rise as I held him was all the hint I needed. I immediately jumped off, cursing myself for even feeling like that.
Blushing uncontrollably, I did my best to calm myself. I diverted my attention to the task at hand. “So…um,” I struggled to blurt out, “How’s things on your end?”

Seeing that he was feeling a little uncomfortable himself, he answered, “Looks like everything is working as planned. Their base is being bombarded, and Silverwisp’s troops are taking the power plant as we speak. Shouldn’t be too long until we cut the power.”

“…Silverwisp?” I said, wondering who he was talking about. He pointed behind him and floating there was a Sprite like Wyld, giving me a little wave.

“I feel kinda awkward,” Silverwisp began, “I mean, you guys seem to be all lovey-dovey with the hugs and stuff…”

“We aren’t a couple!” I snapped. I mean, seriously why did you hafta go out and say that? I already felt embarrassed to begin with!

“Oh!” Silverwisp exclaimed, “That makes me feel a little better! Hehe!”

All of a sudden a soldier came up to debrief us. “Ms. Silverwisp! Ma’am!”

“Yes?” she asked. It was pretty weird and uncharacteristic seeing her act all serious. Something tells me it was rather difficult for her to behave like that.

“We have successfully cut the power from the enemy’s base. The command center has been bombarded and destroyed. Their soldiers are disorganized; many have escaped or gone into hiding.”

“So I take it we won?” She eagerly queried.

“It seems to be the case, ma’am,” the soldier responded.

“All we need to do is some house cleaning then!” She exclaimed. “Alright, go scout about for some stragglers. Try to keep them alive if possible!”

Dismissed, the soldier headed back to join his troops and relay her orders. Ian and I smiled. We won. Toledo was ours.

I let out a deep breath, relieved of our victory, and yet proud of my accomplishments. “I can’t believe it,” I said. “We finally have a place to call home. This is so overwhelming.”

“Well, you better believe it,” he replied, obviously anxious to claim our spoils. “Maybe we should check out the command center. Or at least what’s left of it.”

Nodding in agreement, we hitched a ride in Silverwisp’s vehicle, and headed to our new home. The battle was over, but I fear that the war was far from over.

In the former state of Ohio many factions fight to claim the land as their own. For one rebellious Wyld, she too battles internally in order to maintain some semblance of her previous life while struggling to adapt to what she had become. Can a negotiator from the Northwest do the impossible and peacefully resolve the conflicts on the battlefield and within this young Wyld's heart?

The Heart of it All
A Wyld Universe Story
Conclusion
by AoifeM

The next few days were spent cleaning up the mess we’ve made. What resistance we encountered seemed to have either been restrained or had escaped to friendlier territories. All that was left was the debris that littered the streets.

The biggest eyesore was the old Confederate command center, which was pummeled into the ground. Luckily, from ones trash becomes another ones treasure. Silverwisp had just the idea for it, and with the help of a few Plant type Wyld, she created from a tiny seed a gigantic tree that covered the wreckage, further helped along by Silverwisp’s light manipulation to provide it the extra photosynthesis it needed. From there came addition growth; giant mushrooms, glowing flowers, and vegetation as far as the eye could see. She always said she wanted a grove, and now she created one. It was a genuine fairy’s paradise.

Likewise the Muslim community finally celebrated as they all were up early, creating a makeshift bazaar and pedaling their wares. It was quite the moment when from a distance you could hear the bell ring in a call to prayer. You could almost see the tears in their eyes, finally being able to be who they were, without repercussions.

Marcus too, decided to restart his church. Many of the previous followers who attended back when it was under Confederate hands were in for quite the surprise as the new preacher taught them a whole new meaning to the words of the Bible. Perhaps it would take time for them to understand the Wyld, and live as equals, but at least now Marcus had a platform in which he could persuade with.

Eel seemed to stick around too, resigning from military life and restarting the fisheries by the lake. Prawn fishing seemed to be in high demand, particularly from some Cat Wyld who’d pay top dollar just to bite into the tasty morsels. Now that the port was no longer blockaded it would be easier to export them to other seafood loving nations.

Meanwhile we all decided to find a place to call our own. Most of us found a relatively peaceful place, each claiming a house of our own. Scott however decided to keep to herself as she holed herself up in an abandon apartment complex in the middle of town. Maybe she kind of appreciated the isolation; someone like her would have a lot on her mind. She’s been through a lot these past few days, after all.

Still sometimes I felt as if she needed a little company. I dropped by one evening, hoping she’d appreciate the company. When I came I saw her door was creeked slightly open, and heard a couple girls talking. Curious I took a slight peak inside and saw Scott, sitting in a chair, soaking her feet in a hot tub of water, with Fatima nearby. I noticed something in her hand- was that nail polish? Since when does Scott have her toenails done?

Unfortunately it seemed like I got Scott’s attention, and in a streak of embarrassment and anger she marched up from her seat and yelled at me profusely, “What the hell are you doing? You aren’t supposed to be here! God damnit! This never happened!” She immediately slammed the door on my face.

With the power restored, things quickly returned to normal. Sure it may take awhile to see the streets cleaned and the rubble removed, but there was a passion within these people that resonated throughout the city. This place was theirs now, and that fact could only instill pride among the populace. They wanted to rebuild this city as a reflection of their new found freedom.

With everything moving along swimmingly we had only one thing left to do. We made our way to City Hall, the new residence of the new Commander in Chief: Me. At this point in didn’t matter who I was, or whether Cascadia knew it. Whether I was Ian Kennedy or this idealistic version of Scott Ryan, I made my bed here, and now I will lie in it. I was their leader now, and it was my duty to lead them into a better tomorrow.

With the cameras rolling, and Trish’s assurances it would get out to everyone throughout the globe, I made the following statement:

---

---

With that the Wyldland was born, barely a little speck on anyone’s radar. Even so, it was a major moment in Wyld history. It was the first area reclaimed by Wyld since the states separated. The accomplishment was praised in many circles, and many pro-Wyld countries had contacted us for the chance to assist us. Many of those answers were accepted immediately, particularly with Cascadia, whom after my press conference was immediately on the dial.

My Prime Minister directly phoned me, and we had an interesting conversation.

“So, you’re Scott Ryan now huh?” He asked.

“Well, it seemed like the position was available.” I joked.

“I was surprised when I heard of your survival Kennedy,” he admitted. “To go from negotiator to war hero to president, that must’ve been a hell of a ride.”

“You plan on calling me out on this?” I wondered.

“Nah,” he replied, much to my relief. “This might prove beneficial to all of us here. After all, trading with the Confederacy is as big a pain in the ass as anything. We need more friends in the region, and you’re definitely a good one.”

“Thank you sir,” I told him.

“Sir?” he complained. “Shit, we’re practically equals now son! Just call me Ted.”

“Okay uh, Ted,” I corrected.

“I was also wondering,” he digressed. “I’m sure you know that we have a huge immigration problem on our hands, and I know there’s probably a lot of displacement going on in your neck of the woods, so I was wondering…perhaps you could make room for couple of folks there? Might help Toledo get back on its feet.”

I didn’t hesitate to answer yes. The Prime Minister, Ted, was right, being the president here was beneficial. Many displaced Wyld, who had nowhere to go, could find refuge here. Hopefully in the next few months this place would be back and kicking.

So everything ended on a bright note, and the folks here lived happily ever after…

…I bet that’s what you like to think.

---

It didn’t take more but a couple of weeks until we had received a call from the Palace in Chicago. The Doge was set to visit Toledo, and wanted us to prepare for his arrival.

And we did prepare, and we weren't about to throw a parade.

And in his lavish plane he arrived, practically spoiled from the attention his Missa Solemni gave him. He was being carried around in a palanquin litter down the center town like a Raj, being fed grapes and the night arrived in the city. There wasn’t any spectacle about it; he was just a spoiled pompous ass.

They arrived in front of the footsteps of City Hall, where Scott, her rebellion, Faried and his Muslim compatriots, and Silverwisp, Eel and her Lake State legion waited.

They sat down his palanquin and he emerged from his lavish satin box, already looking like he was full of himself.

“Hmmm, I see,” he began. “It is quite amazing what you’ve accomplished in just a few weeks.”

“Thanks…I guess,” I replied, not too sure where he’s going with this.

“There definitely is potential here,” he continued. “A potential to be great, like a Calcutta to Detroit’s Mumbai.”

Man, all he does is keep droning on and on…

“Of course only a man with true vision, true innovation, true power, could ever hope to accomplish such a grandiose dream. And I’m sorry, but a dog such as yourself couldn’t even tap into such potential.”

“Have you come here just to insult me?” I asked, getting perturbed.

“If I needed to do that, fool, I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths,” he replied callously. “No, I just wanted to take look at my new town. Yes, it’ll make another fine gem to my crown.”

He gave me a cold, conniving laugh, and continued. “I’m so sorry for having to deceive you so, but those who are lucky to receive my power have a price to pay, and now it’s time to collect.” He snapped his fingers at Silverwisp. “You, dispose of them.”

I looked at little Silverwisp. She was more than just some working aquinatance; she became our friend. Being with us, although briefly, was the best time in her life. I already know what her answer was.

“No,” She defiantly answered.

“What?” the Doge cried in dismay. “After all I’ve given you? I made you into a Captain! I’ve given your Wyld rights beyond what most countries would even consider! And you defy me?”

“You used me,” She stated. “Yes, I thought it was an honor becoming the first Wyld to make Captain. But I’ve been at this for 20 years! I fought hard for the rights of my people. I’ve traveled to many lands, fought many battles. I’ve defended your territory and not once did I get anything for it!”

Her eyes were starting to water as she continued. “What about my life? Look what these guys gave me! I now have a grove to call home! And more than that, I have people who really care about me! I’d give my life for Scott Ryan in an instant! Why would I trade that away for you?”

Doge Giovanni was obviously fuming. He didn’t like being told no. That was the whole plan anyway. I would actually be nice to Silverwisp. I would let her live her dreams. Unlike him, my biggest weapon was kindness, and it worked.

He turned to one of her fellow soldiers and demanded, “You! Get rid of them!” Yet that soldier just stood there, along with every other soldier who he asked. They were loyal to Silverwisp, not him, and that fact sent him ballistic.

“You lost Doge,” I remarked. “Leave this place.”

Of course, what did I know? His stunned silence only turned into a spine chilling laugh. I didn’t get what was funny. But he had something up his sleeve, and I couldn’t just ignore it.

“Oh, you are so funny,” he began. “Thinking you’ve won. That you’ve manipulated my army against me and I can do nothing? Hilarious!”

It was getting kind of disturbing watching him gloat like that. His four Solemni moved in front of him standing aggressively, preparing for attack, just waiting on his signal.

“How do you think I’ve gotten so far? Before me my nation was in chaos! Fighting and scrapping, hoping to gain control of the area and to claim it their own. Tell me, how did I get on top?”

We were getting a little anxious. We weren't prepared for what came after as we were hit with a surprise. All of a sudden a flash of light appeared and a legion of 25 Solemni appeared from nowhere.

“…You’re Wyld!” I exclaimed.

He looked at his soldiers. “They are the perfect soldiers, aren’t they not? They don’t talk back, they just do as they ask. No fear, just dedication.”

Everything started to make sense. The Solemni wasn’t human at all, they were just puppets, and the Doge was the master.

With a cold grin he gleefully commanded them, “Kill them.”

And so they obeyed as they rush up the stairs, ready to take our lives. In sheer numbers we had the advantage, but these were Solemni. The things that many would second guess didn’t matter to them. They were lifeless, just as Giovanni claimed, and they didn’t have to account for such things.

They unseathed their dirks and began to make mincemeat of our troops. We were totally unprepared for this. In complete panic many soldiers tried to fire on them before they closed in on them, but the swiftness of the Solemni, along with their serpentine movement made that a difficult proposition. And of course headshots were worthless, only a good shot in the legs and hands could subdue them.

Grond had his own problems. He was in a tight spot, surrounded by friendlies. His immense strength could easily disposed of them. However if there was one major flaw in his design it was the fact he was extremely uncoordinated. The Solemni were running around him in circles, and although he didn’t know better, he swung around wildly, sometimes taking our some of our own men.

Scott and I were standing back to back, wondering what to do. “Could there actually be a Wyld this powerful?” I shouted.

“For what I know no,” Scott replied, reloading her gun. “Even with this kind of ability having such control would only tire him eventually. That’s the same with most Wyld.”

“Funny,” I continued, “With all that bellowing he’s doing he doesn’t seem all that tired to me.”

“Maybe we’re focusing on the wrong thing,” she suggested. Within the spur of the moment she turned to me and said, “Cover me!” as she ran towards the Doge.

This would be suicidal to most people. His Solemni would easily protect their master, making even shooting him impossible. It was the first thing we thought of doing: kill the head, the snake will die. But whenever we had a clean shot at him he would in react almost instantly, summoning a Solemnus out of thin air to act at his meat shield and take the bullet for him. Scott was planning to get up close and personal with him. This would put the Solemni’s focus directly onto her. We needed to provide as much assistance as possible.

“Fire at the Solemni!” I yelled. “Keep them away from her!”

The puppets aggressively changed at Scott. We did our best to pick them off before they could do harm to her. She could handle a lot of injury due to her power, but she needed to be awake and alert. Much like any other Wyld, if she uses her regeneration too much, she’ll be out like a lamp.

She finally managed to reach the palanquin where the Doge was standing. She sustained injuries but they weren’t totally wearing her out.

“Such magnificent power!” The Doge complimented. “You have such potential! You could make a wonderful wife!”

Yeah, you shouldn't talk about that in front of Scott. It pretty much gave her a second wind, and the adrenaline pumping through her veins would fuel her oncoming berserker rage.

With a quick unassuming fist she began to repeatedly strike his nose, over and over, each providing the rhythm to her angry rant:

“I…AM…NOT…GONNA…BE…ANYONE’S…FUCKING…WIFE…YOU…ASSHOLE!”

Her rage was doing the trick as the Solemni started to respond lethargically to his commands. They were breaking down, unable to maintain stability as the Doge slowly but surely began to lose consciousness.

Now on his knees, and his face bloody red like a tomato, it was all over but the singing. Of course that couldn’t stop us from getting Scott off of him even after he was out. I guess I’ll make a note to never joking about her getting married…

The End.