This is the story of the privileged sons of the wealthy and very conservative senior senator from California, and what happens to them after they catch MORFS.
The Tale's of the Improbables are the stories of those individuals who cross the paths of the the Carmichael twins. Some may be dark. Some are going to be down-right disturbing. They all offer insight into some rather relevant characters. I think they add more then a little to the overall story. Your opinions may vary. You have been warned.
All right, first things first. There is NO TG or CG content in this. It's bloody, dark, and rather unpleasant. It's also important in setting the stage in the latter stages of the Tale of Jet and Quartz, and adds a great deal of depth to one of the major characters in that tale. If it looks like this is going to bother you, then skip this, and spare me the angry e-mails. You have been warned.
MORFS is a funny thing. It rearranges your body, in a very real way stealing your identity. But that isn’t the really traumatic part. No, the rearranged body is simple enough to deal with. It feels normal, mostly. Strange at first, but normal. What people don’t realize is that the brain is just another part of the body, and that changes in the body will invariably be reflected by changes in the mind.
Just as a hypochondriac can manifest physical symptoms as a direct result of his dementia, changes in the body’s chemistry will result in alteration to thought and personality. The human consciousness in an emergent system, but it is still a system composed of the elements of the body, most specifically the brain. So it should be no surprise that MORFS should affect the mind as well as the body.
No, the traumatic part of MORFS isn’t what it does to you. That can be difficult, and sometimes dangerous, but invariably you find a way to adapt. No, the truly traumatic part of MORFS is what it can do socially. MORFS effects a given individual in their entirety, ensuring a degree of homogeny in the end result. The problem arises as a result of the condition being non-homogenous across a society. Not all members of a society are affected equally, if at all, and division and distrust result. This leads to intolerance, irrationality, isolationism, and occasionally inhumanity and demonization.
That’s the real tragedy of MORFS. The inhumanity, brutality, and rationalized evil that it spawns in a community. The trauma this causes in the innocent victims of the disease, who bear no fault for what happened to them, is the true damage MORFS does.
I suppose that this is an attempt to heal that damage, as it was done to me. Perhaps, by setting this record down, I’ll somehow put all this behind me, and begin to heal. Or maybe it’s not the record that matters, it’s simply the catharsis of unburdening myself into your ears, the anonymous audience, that will be a balm in my mind.
It doesn’t matter, really. All I know is that talking about it is supposed to help, so I figured why not. I’ve got time.
Where to begin… God, it feels like so long ago. I know it wasn’t, not really, but my old life seems like it was eons ago.
Jack Daniels, that’s me. An orphan named after a whiskey with the soul of a dreamer. You can tell my life was just so easy, right? Well, in all honesty, it was, at least compared to how it could have gone. I had parents who loved me, and instilled in me a love of learning. They taught me to read and instilled in me a love of literature.
And then, when I was six, they gave me a sister. They made sure I never felt left behind, jealous, or envious of the attention she got. They made me feel involved, proud, and responsible for her. I’m still not sure how they managed it, but I distinctly remember those feelings, so it must have happened that way. They made sure I was involved in all of the messy little chores involved in caring for an infant, and somehow at the same time managed to introduce me to what would become my greatest escape.
Fantasy.
Tolkien. Brust. Lackey. Paolini. Butcher. And a horde of others. They introduced me to their library and I was addicted. They may have been mostly older books, but they were the ones my parents had grown up on, and they made sure that the same quality of fantastic worlds and breathtaking imagination that you can only find in a great tale were available to me in my own childhood.
The next four years of my life were the best years of my life. My parents worked in software design for one of the largest game publishing houses around at the time, and telecommuted, so they were around almost all the time. They home schooled me, and raised my sister, and I soaked up the knowledge like a wet sponge. Given their jobs, I never really lacked for entertainment, and I socialized on literary and game boards with other like minded folk. By the time I was ten I was starting on High School level materiel, and serving as occasional day care for my four year old sister. I was teaching her to read.
Then everything fell apart.
I remember it perfectly, I was on my computer, lurking on a bulletin board for a new RPG that my parents had shown me, and keeping a bit of my mind on my sister, when the doorbell rang.
I knew it wasn’t my parents, because they had left an hour ago for a meeting downtown, and they should have just gotten there. They weren’t due back till late in the afternoon, after their face to face with the production guys was over. I’m not sure what I was exactly expecting when I answered the door at our condo, but it sure wasn’t what I got.
There was a cop at the door. He was big and huge, at least from my memories as a pint sized ten year old, and he had the saddest expression on his face. He looked so somber in his dark blue uniform, and I barely heard him as he started talking. The words seemed to flow around me, but the meaning hit me right in the gut.
My parents were dead.
It all sort of grays out after that. I know I didn’t actually pass out. I can remember bits and pieces of things after that, but nothing coherent. I remember screaming at him in denial. I remember my sister looking up from her book and wondering what the noise was. I remember hitting back hard when they lead me down to the car to be taken to the station. I remember the look of pity on the faces of the people we passed. But mostly it was just a grey blur. The next thing I clearly remember is waking up lying on a cot at the local precinct house, holding my sister.
I’ll say one thing for the NYPD, the cops are very cool. They took two screaming hysterical kids and kept them around so they didn’t hurt themselves and tried to track down some relatives to take us in. It was, as I said, very cool. But my reprieve from the tragedy of these events was brief.
My parents were dead. We had no other living relatives. My last surviving grandparent had died last year, and there were no other relatives or family friends to take us in. And I knew it, as well as the consequences. That fact meant that we were at the mercies of the foster care system, into the control of children’s services. Luckily for us, our parents had been thorough, paranoid, and slightly morbid, apparently. Their will was explicit, and had clauses written for specifically this situation.
While, unfortunately, it named our grandmother as our only guardian, it did, fortunately, detail exactly what should happen to our inheritance. The condo was to be locked and sealed, with building security to check it regularly, and otherwise to remain vacant. Their possessions, all of them, were to be put in storage, and their money to be placed in escrow. All of this was to last until my eighteenth birthday, upon which I would inherit half, approximately, and hold the rest in trust for my sister. So, unfortunately, we would remain in foster care for eight years.
The next six years were not the best years of my life. Foster care, while not the nightmare that many of the sensationalist dramas have portrayed it as, was still a living hell in comparison to the loving family I had lost. Jane had it worse, of course. The death of both her parents at that age was devastating. It was difficult for me to get my head around it, and I had gotten some experience in that regard. Jane just knew that Mommy and Daddy were away with Nana, and weren’t coming back.
Thankfully, we wound up with a halfway competent social worker. I say halfway competent because while he was excellent at identifying and seeing to our immediate physical and psychological needs, he was incapable of comprehending how our parents had treated us. He insisted on dropping us into public school at grade levels chosen based on age rather then ability, citing ‘needed social interaction’ as his overriding criteria. The man was just fundamentally incapable of accepting the fact that a ten year old boy had the equivalent of a high school freshman education. He insisted on treating the both of us like infants.
For my part, I just hated the guy.
Now, if this was a bad drama, the next part of the tale of my life would have involved us being sent off to some impersonal orphanage, housed in a large and imposing structure, run by heartless nuns, where we would have been made to eat gruel and mope. How utterly cliché. I don’t think an orphanage that actually fit that description has existed for at least a hundred years, at least not in any major city.
No, thanks to the underappreciated efforts of crazy (and litigious) child advocacy groups, we went to the modern alternative. The foster home. The particular one we got dumped in was out in Queens, and was run by a very nice black couple. A large old house, the kind you really don’t see much of any more, it was the current home for about half a dozen kids before we got plunked there, and it felt like they could have thrown another dozen or two in there and we wouldn’t have felt too crowded.
Also thanks to those crazy (and litigious) advocacy groups, there was no attempt to separate me from my sister, the way that those bad dramas make you think the foster care system might, to encourage adoption of at least one of the children. Thankfully, in addition to the nuts with lawyers making it uneconomical to try it, there had been, over the course of the existence of the children’s services department, enough child head shrinkers put into positions of authority that they recognized that separating her from her only surviving family now would harm her more than an adoption would help.
So, despite the fact that everyone involved, except perhaps the four-year old herself, knew that her chances of adoption were better if we didn’t come as a matched set, we stayed together. I held no delusions. There were very few families out there looking for a pair of traumatized youngsters, and fewer still when one of them was nearly a teenager. So we lived our lives there, in that foster home in Queens. While it wasn’t what I would call poverty, especially now, it wasn’t exactly wealthy either.
Thankfully, I still had my books, both academic and recreational, as well as my computer. I also had my sister. Those three things were what kept me going then, and for many years to come. My books, the ‘net, and my sister. Imagination, companionship, and responsibility. All I was missing was love, and it would have been a perfect life. But I had the memory of love, and that would have to do.
I continued to teach my sister everything that my parents had taught me, and while that brought some odd looks, the two of us huddled together away from everyone else, the caretakers didn’t interfere, especially after they noticed that it was the only time Jane ever laughed.
Time passed, as it was wont to do, and I spent a totally humiliating year in the fifth grade. Humiliating for the faculty anyways. After spending an entire year with me asking questions years beyond my grade level, and getting detention for being too intelligent and disrupting class, they finally thought to have me tested for placement. At this point my own little home study program put me on the academic level of a high school sophomore, and the tests backed that up.
So it came to pass that, halfway through my planned tenure in the sixth grade, I was summoned to the principals office. Sitting there was the principal, and several guidance counselor types. Once I was seated, they stared at me for a moment, I can only assume to try to intimidate me. It didn’t work.
“So, Jack,” the principal asked, after I showed no reaction other than a blank stare, “Your academic aptitude tests showed some very interesting results.”
I just stared at the bozo. “Yes, and?”
Clearly flustered by my obvious indifference, he simply cleared his throat. One of the other educrat types in the room picked up the planed lecture. “Why didn’t you inform your social worker that you had been home schooled to a high school level?”
I turned my bored gaze on this new imbecile. “I did. He didn’t believe me. Felt that my parents had obviously been lax in the testing, and that placing me with children my own age would be an appropriate action to facilitate my adjustment.”
The educrat “ahemed” himself into an embarrassed silence. The principal had at this point recovered enough to continue. “And you did nothing about this?”
I shrugged. “Why bother? The moron obviously didn’t believe my parents records, why would he believe me? Now what did you want?”
The one halfway intelligent individual in the room finally spoke up. “Well, we were going to offer to jump you up to high school level, and now that I’ve seen your attitude…” she paused, and looked at me. For my part, I probably looked stricken. Here it was, my one great hope, to be in a place where I would actually have to try, and these idiots were going to make me stay here and die of boredom. She stared at me with a gimlet eye for a moment, and then smirked. “I think you most definably belong in a high school. You have the petulant teenager attitude down perfectly.”
I admit, I actually lost my composure for a moment. I believe I actually squealed. It was completely juvenile. The principal cocked his head. “I take it this doesn’t displease you.” I shot him my best look, which, I must admit wasn’t much of one, me being eleven. “I thought not. In that case, why don’t you and Principal Drake discuss the details of getting you into the local high school, eh?”
The three adults exchanged nods, and for once in my life I let the adults around me call the shots and I was escorted off into a small office for a conference with what was to be my new principal. By the end of the day, I was ecstatic. I was out of the tedium of the sixth grade, and off to high school. Admittedly, I was being admitted as a freshman, but Principal Drake had some VERY good reasons for that, and even I had to admit that there were things that I would learn over the course of four years of a normal high school education that I simply would not learn any other way. That and it would look much better on a college application.
The up shot to all this? I got to skip the rest of the school year, on the condition that I spent it engaged in some sort of supervised community service. Tutoring my sister counted. So off I went. High school, here I come.
It wasn’t pleasant. Which was a fact that I should have been aware of. It had, in fact been pointed out to me several times by Principal Drake. I had ignored it, wrapped up in the joy of finally having my intellect recognized. What I hadn’t counted on were my classmates. I mean, really, how often do you see some twelve year old kid in a high school, really? And worse, one who is almost universally smarter then his classmates?
So, naturally, I was mocked, taunted, and ostracized by my ‘peers’.
And again, naturally, I sought refuge in my one true escape. My books.
And that’s who I was, of course. I was the nerdy orphan genius who didn’t talk to anyone, and just sat there with his nose in a book.
Of course, the cliques had gone up around me, separating the entire school into its own little inviolate tribes. Just like always in high school, there were the jocks, the goths, the geeks, the nerds, the Pures, the supers, the rebels, the preppies, the junkies, the freaks, and me, the punching bag.
Ok, so I was a nerd. A big nerd. After having my head shoved down a toilet by the local football hero the first day, and being the laughingstock of the entire school, I think my place in the social structure was rather well defined. Well, if that’s the way things were going to be, then I made a decision of my own. I wasn’t going to make friends with ANY of these assholes.
That vow lasted about as long as a snowball in a boiler. I had started taking some martial arts classes, to give me a good grounding in the principles necessary to defend myself. The expression on that idiot jocks face when he tried a repeat performance and I broke his wrist for him was priceless. But that wasn’t till a year later. No, it was at those classes that I first met people that I couldn’t just ignore. I wasn’t better at the exercises then everyone else, and I couldn’t be aloof and still achieve the level of performance I demanded of myself.
So I made friends. Not many I admit, but some. A few of the other students at the dojo went to the same school, and nothing breaks down barriers like tossing each other around a padded room. Once they knew that I really was as smart as I acted, and wasn’t going to hold that intelligence as weapon against them, they actually started talking to me, as opposed to at me.
And so things went. I pushed my way through high school and helped my sister learn quickly. I even managed to have a few friends and have something approximating a normal social life.
And despite the tragedy of it, I managed a normal enough life up until my sixteenth birthday. That was the end of my senior year in high school. I had finally gotten that precious sheepskin, and was going to take a year off, and then head out to college.
Now, maybe it’s something about the day, but the next major upheaval in my life happened on the sixth anniversary of my parents’ death. I celebrated the day the same way I had for the last six years. I spent the morning at the grave with my sister, telling my parents about the year that had gone by, and then my small circle of friends and I went out to relieve some stress.
My sister, of course, had gone to her own friends house, and would be spending the night, so when I sat back down in Doug’s car after seeing her to the door, I was promptly stared at by the other four occupants.
I shot Doug a look. “What?” I asked.
Doug just shook his head, and put the car in gear. “Mike, educate Boozer here, eh?”
Mike, one of the best wrestlers in his weight class (one of the heavier ones to boot) as well as an honor roll student, smiled at me from the back seat. “What day is it?”
I looked back at him and rolled my eyes. “It’s my life went to hell day.”
Mike sighed. “Ok, try again.”
I looked at my watch. “Thursday?”
Mike sighed. “And what is Thursday?”
I just looked confused. The other passengers sighed at me. Dave, the skinniest, nerdiest guy in the class, with a full ride at MIT, shook his head. “Jack, Jack. You make me doubt your youth. You can’t have forgotten our scheduled Thursday activities already?”
I smacked my head. “Game day. Right.” I had forgotten. We had decided right before school let out that we were going to run the newest version of Exalted: The Age of Sorrows. I had gotten the full set of the latest edition as a gift from Karen, one of mom’s old co-workers for my birthday. The woman was nice enough, but with her work and her being single, there was no way she could take us in. So she assuaged her guilt by sending me lavishly expensive gifts, and stopping by to say hi from time to time. Kind of cool, actually.
The last occupant of the car grinned at me. Vince was an overweight movie director wannabe. Well, he was a wannabe in only the most literal sense. He wanted to be a movie director, and damn if he didn’t have the talent to get there. “So,” he drawled, “You still up for some righteous violence?”
I grinned. “Hell yeah.” This was exactly what I needed. Some time to think about something that was nothing to do with reality. I could forget all the responsibilities and burdens that my life had become, and just hang out with my friends.
“Good,” Doug remarked, “Because we’re heading over to Flame’s and pulling an all-nighter on this one. We’ve already cleared it with the temp-rents, so you really don’t have a choice.”
I laughed, and covered the sudden lurch in my stomach. It was just nerves, I told myself. I had a good reason to be nervous. I had talked all five of these guys into this. If it went sour, it would be on my head.
Ok, I had to relax. I took a deep breath, told my gut to quit it, and settled back to enjoy the ride. This was going to rock.
I was covered in blood, gore, and other unsavory bits. Luckily, most of it wasn’t mine. I hefted my golden blade and stared at the demon prince across from me. I lifted my lip with a snarl and charged him. He swung high at my head, and I ducked, swinging low then up. As my blade bit into his side, I felt a cold pain in my side, and as green fire leapt from the gash I had carved into its chest, I twisted and fell, and the last thing I saw was the demon fall, consumed in the flames of his own blood. As the darkness took me, I saw my comrades running towards me. Reinforcements at last…
Vince shot me a glare across the table. “Ok, that was a bit over the top.” He looked at the group. “But since you did self destruct, I think I can live with saving your ass.” Being as he was playing the group’s medic, that was good to hear.
“Yeah, I look about for any more demons to splatter!” Dave was looking thrilled, and was spoiling for a fight.
Jack LaFlame looked around the table, and grinned. “You don’t see any more demons, but there are a few dozen dismembered monks, and a crowd of frightened people in the corner. The three remaining monks are guarding them, and keeping seem to be shielding them from you.”
Dave looked annoyed, but Mike shook his head. “I kindly ask my circle mates to care for our fallen comrade and keep watch for more demons, and go over to address the priest, inquiring what precisely happened here.”
Vince looked up from his character sheet. “I activate my combo, ‘Healing Light of Unconquered Puissance’ and use it on our injured friend here.”
Jack, we called him Flame, to differentiate him from me, looked at something behind his screen, and nodded. “Ok, Vince, you heal him, his wound begin to close with preternatural speed, as fountains of syrupy golden light spill from your hands over the wound. Mike, the monks are cautions, but after the display that Boozer,” that’s me, “put on, they’re inclined to aid you this once. They inform you that a crazed man in hooded robes, with a bleeding mark on his brow burst in and started ranting about how they would all pay for their transgressions. He gestured with his staff, and the demons materialized, and started attacking. The monks tried to stop them, but the big one that Boozer killed was too much for them, at least till Sword Boy over there showed up.”
Doug shook his head. “Good thing you went on ahead then. Mike, anyone see what happened to the weird guy, this sounds like the S.O.B. we’ve been chasing since Cisacursero.”
Mike raised an eyebrow at Flame, and the Storyteller chuckled. “Investigation plus Charisma, if you please?”
Mike picked up some dice. “Ten motes on Second Excellency, plus,” he rolled and counted quickly, “six more on the roll. That’s eleven”
Dave whistled. Flame raised an eyebrow and consulted his sheets some more. “Cool, well, that’s good…”
Right about then, I felt a pang in my gut, and a sudden call from my bowels. As I fled the table towards Flame’s bathroom, I heard him continue his description. “One of the frightened villagers nods shakily and starts to stammer....” And the rest was cut off as I dashed up stairs.
I got to the bathroom just in time, and as I released, I felt the rumbling of nausea, and a chill wash over me. I clearly remember thinking that it would figure. If there was one day I was going to come down with the flu, it would be today.
I don’t remember just how long it was that I sat there, feeling miserable, and letting my insides drain out my rear, but the diarrhea had stopped, and I was sitting there shivering with my arms wrapped around my, generally feeling miserable, when I heard a knock on the door.
“Hey, Jack?” It was Dave. “You ok in there, man?”
I shook myself, and started to clean up, “Yeah, gimme a second.” I finished cleaning myself and went to leave, only to find Dave still standing there.
He nodded, in a disinterested way, and then did a double take. Quickly he grabbed my hand. “God man, you look like hell, and your hand is cold as ice. You sure you’re all right?”
I nodded back. “Yeah, just a cold. I’ll be fine. Lets get back, eh, I wanna introduce this demon summoning bastard to my sword.” I took about a dozen steps, and got to right in front of the door to the study that we were playing in, when I lost my battle against the creeping nausea, and promptly fell over and vomited.
Dave grabbed me almost immediately. “Oh crap, man, this aint ‘just a cold’ man, your sick.”
The rest of the guys had seen my little episode, and had all come over. Flame took one look and just pointed towards the living room, and said “Couch.”
I was hauled to my feed, and half led, half dragged over to the couch, and rather sloppily dropped or fell onto it. I really can’t remember just how much of me getting on that couch was me, and how much was me being dragged. I had been feeling a little off and achy all day, and had been fighting an upset stomach since noon, but it seemed as if my body had decided that it had had enough and wasn’t really co-operating all of a sudden. To put it succinctly, I felt like crap. And I said so.
Flame just looked at me, and nodded. Now perhaps you think that we call him Flame because of his surname. And you’d be right, at least originally. That was, till junior year, anyways. Then he got MORFS. Now we called him Flame because he was a fire elemental, and had hair in all the varied colors of a roaring bonfire, from reds to yellows to oranges, all in spiky dreadlocks hanging from his head. He stared at me for a moment, and then went off to the phone. I heard him muttering into it, and then at Doug. He came back over and knelt down so he was at eye level. His eyes were the same weird fire colors as his hair, I noticed. How I had not noticed that before then, I will never know. Perhaps it was because as a male, I tended to avoid deep meaningful eye to eye stares with my friends. That sounds right.
In any event, what he said was the more important thing. “Jack,” he said, and there I knew this was serious, because he never used my first name unless it was serious shit, “we’re taking you to the doc’s.”
I shook my head blearily. “Just th’ flu,” I muttered.
He nodded at me. “That’s what I thought, too, till I went to a doctor after three days and was told it was MORFS.”
I think that actually made me look shocked. I mean, MORFS. Come on. This wasn’t some cheesy drama. I had read the statistics. For all that they had come out with treatments to prevent the most common complications, there was still a real risk of serious complications. Double digit percents, even. Ok, so it was only about one percent mortality rate, but given the sheer amount of people that got the damn thing… I was understandably scared. It had been around for barely twenty years, and it still killed. Besides, I couldn’t get MORFS, I had too much to do. I was off to college. I had my sister to take care of. I couldn’t get MORFS.
So I said as much. “No way is this…” I muttered at him.
He just shrugged, seeing the rejection in my eyes and understanding the fear. “Likely not. But better safe then otherwise.”
I was feeling too battered to argue, so I just acquiesced to the inevitable, and closed my eyes. It seemed like a few seconds later when I heard Vince saying, “Time to go man, nap in the car.”
That seemed like a really good idea. The nap part I mean. I wasn’t so keen on the moving, as my head had decided that it was a good time to imitate a bongo. But I just knew that if I didn’t go along with these crazies and get tested for MORFS then they would drag me, so I gamely struggled to my feet and shuffled by sniffley way to the door, down the front steps and into Doug’s car.
Now I may make it sound like this thing hit me all at once. That’s not quite true. I had been feeling off all day. I suppose it was just me covering it in denial. I had ample reason to feel rotten after all. And, given the day, I was used to drowning discomfort with frenetic activity. I had had practice, after all. So it wasn’t until the symptoms got to the vomiting and diarrhea stage that I even allowed myself to notice. So I suppose I only have myself to blame for what happened next.
The ride in wasn’t fun. I felt like hell, of course, and the roads in this part of New York felt like they hadn’t been paved since Giuliani left office. But that was besides the point. I was afraid. I was afraid of what might happen, of what might change, and of having no control over my fate. For all that I was only sixteen, I had enjoyed a remarkable level of control over my life, and had finally reached a point where independence was a visible goal, if one slightly removed in the timeline. If I had MORFS, that would all be put in jeopardy.
Now, that may be yet another terrifying aspect of MORFS. The lack of control. I mean, think about it. You’re going about your life, calm as can be, and then, suddenly, from absolutely nowhere, this random cold bug comes, and due to some fucking ancient history bio-terror idiocy (that didn’t even do what it was supposed to, by the way), your life is turned up-side-down. It’s fucking insane, pardon my French. Or don’t, I really don’t care. It really is surprising that there aren’t more cases of acute anxiety linked to the looming threat of MORFS.
Or maybe there really are more, and its one of those things that simply isn’t talked about. Or perhaps it’s just something that people look at and dismiss, as something that will only perhaps occur in the far off, foggy, ‘future’, a concept that I firmly believe is beyond the grasp of a large majority of the human population. Whatever the case, that anxiety is magnified a thousand fold when your being driven to the doctor, sick as a dog (where did that saying come from anyways), and staring a potential diagnosis in the maw. It feels like its some great beast, waiting to swallow you up. Perhaps it’s the same with the other big illnesses, like cancer. I’ll never know. All I do know is that, then, in that car, despite the nausea, the aches, the exhaustion, my greatest discomfort came from the thought ‘what if…’
‘What if…’ I was positive. ‘What if…’ I changed out of all recognition. Would my friends still stand by me? I liked to think they would. Would my sister recognize me? I hoped so. Would I still recognize me? Oh, god I hoped so. ‘What if…’ I died. There it is. Death due to MORFS was rare, but it happened. What if it happened to me. How would my sister deal. Would she be able to cope with the burden of being alone? With keeping the jackals who smelled her inheritance away? With learning how to survive on her own, with no family left in the world? I had no answer. And I was terrified.
So I lay there, in the back of Doug’s car, being jounced around and stewing in my discomfort and terror. I stared at the back of the passenger’s seat, and at the fire covered hair hanging messily down from the headrest. Flame was talking to me, and I knew he was trying to keep my mind off of what was potentially happening, but I heard maybe half of it, and remember less. It was talk of the game, of how once we got back to his place, with whatever meds the doc’s gave me, and got back to the business of some serious gamesmanship, how amazingly kick ass this would be. I let him drone on, focusing less on the words then on the fact that he was saying them.
Eventually, we stopped, but it wasn’t at the hospital. It was at a small, slightly run down building that looked like it might have at one time been an office building. It was perhaps four stories above ground, with most likely two below, and there was a grimy sign out front with big blue letters saying,
“Massive Ontogenetic Regulation Failure Syndrome Clinical Treatment Facility”
and in smaller letters beneath it,
“New York City Board of Public Health and Welfare, New York State Board of Health, Center for Disease Control”
and a bunch of weird state and federal seals that acted as gigantic ‘Do Not Rob, Actual Cops on Duty Here’ signs.
I struggled to coherency at the sight. “Why not the hospital?”
Flame sighed. “Called the fosters. They said that last year the regs changed. Social Services insists on using the free clinics. This is the closest.”
I just sighed. Figures. More city budget cuts and these things were federally funded after the first few deaths due to lack of basic medical diagnosis of the disease. It really shouldn’t have surprised me. After six years, you would think that I would have learned. But things like this always did. I guess I still thought of myself as the well off kid from uptown, despite everything.
Being as how there was no use fighting the inevitable, and I was already there, I allowed the two of them to lead me in. Doug plunked me in a chair, and then sat next to me. I sagged backwards, only marginally aware of Flame having a discussion with a desk attendant, and then with a guy in a lab coat. A nurse came and took a blood sample, and then I waited for the results. After a bit they decided that they could spare the bed while the results came back, and they dragged me off to a room. The bed they put me in was more comfortable then the car seat, but less so then Flame’s couch, take that for what you will (Flame does have a very comfortable couch). I have no memory immediately following that, so I assume I fell asleep.
My memories following are fragmented at best. You can logically deduce that, yes, I was indeed positive for MORFS. I found out later that I was kept sedated, and had to be tube fed a protein and nutrient mix to supply the raw mass needed for the transformation. I do, however remember several conversations dimly. The first one was innocent enough.
I was still sedated, but I had regained consciousness. Not enough to do anything major, like say tilting my head an inch, or breathing loudly. Opening my eyes seemed like it would be a Herculean task. So I just lay there, lounging in my delirium. I knew I should have been worried. I could dimly remember being terrified of something, not too long ago. The knowledge that the knowledge that I had forgotten to be terrified had not terrified me failed to stir me. They had me on some groooooovy drugs.
But I could hear. There was a pair of nurses talking in my room, and I would assume doing nurse things while they did it. But I don’t know that. They could very well have been masturbating each other for all I know, but the content I garnered from their conversation makes that seem unlikely in retrospect. What I did get could be summed up as follows.
I don’t have names for these nurses, so let’s call them Bob and Sue. Sue began the conversation as I became aware of conversation about me. “So,” she said, in a low but clearly intelligible voice, “you think he’ll make it?”
“Depends,” Bob replied. “Severe MORFS case on top of a bad Influenza strain, bad shape.”
“Yeah,” Sue said, with pity in her voice. I wanted to strangle her. “But on the up side, he survives MORFS and the hyper-immune reaction should clear up the virus.”
“Unless Doc Green takes an interest…” Bob began, as I faded off into the haze of the really very groovy drugs.
The next time I became aware of my surroundings, it was motion that brought me out of the haze. The bed I was on was being wheeled out of an elevator, whether up or down from my current location I could not tell, nor could I fight past the happy haze in my mind enough to tell. I could, however, tell that I felt really bad. There were voices talking above me as my bed glided down the hall. I recognized Nurse Bob’s voice.
“… tor. What about nutrients and mass. His body is going to need protein mass or he’ll run into…”
“Yes, I know,” interrupted a cold, nasal voice. “Feeding tube and catheter. Maximum sedation and restraints. I don’t want him causing more damage with convulsions.”
“Yes ma’am,” replied Bob. He sounded slightly displeased, I thought.
“And once you have him set up, get back to your floor. Take care of the real humans, not this zoo.” The nasal voice disturbed me greatly, but I couldn’t place what it was that was wrong with what it said. Of course Bob would go help humans, that’s what nurses did. The venom in Bob’s response made it through the resurgent fog of the drugs, and I felt strangely glad for it. And then I was gone into the haze again.
The next time I came out of it, I felt much stronger, somehow, but there was this annoying tube in my mouth. I tried to reach up and get rid of it, but my hand wouldn’t move. There was something holding it down. I tried again harder, and a leather manacle slapped against the bed.
“Sir, it’s coming around,” a voice from nearby called out. My vision was hazy, and I couldn’t see the source.
Instantly there was a clacking sound, like metal on stone, and that cold nasal voice came back. “Huh. Double the sedative dose. I forgot to take the increasing body mass into account. Foolish.” Now that I was more aware, I could pick out the distain from the voice, as well as guess at the gender, likely female. There was an odd scent, too. I heard more footsteps, and tried to reach for them, only to be stopped by the restraints. There was the sound of someone rustling with bottles, and then nothing.
“There,” the cold voice spoke up. “That aught to put it back under till you get the I.V. fixed.”
I heard rustling and a faint clatter as those clacking footsteps retreated. I struggled against my bonds, desperate to be free of this place, though I didn’t know why, until eventually the haze rose up and swallowed me.
The next time I came to, it was with a clear mind. I woke slowly, allowing my now haze free mind to analyze what I had heard and dimly remembered while I slept. I had survived MORFS, apparently. More importantly, I was under the care of a doctor who saw me as an IT, which meant that she was a bigot, and I was most likely a hybrid of some sort. That kind of discrimination was fairly common. Almost as common as the anti-black discrimination in the south back in the 1970’s. This was not a good place to be. It was time I left, then.
I opened my eyes and looked around. I was reasonably surprised by the muzzle sticking into my field of vision, but I ignored it. Being some kind of wolf man was actually not my biggest concern right now. Getting out of these restraints was. So I yanked my arm up.
There was a snap, and my hand came up toward my head. I then tried to undo the strap across my forehead. It came away fairly easily, and I lifted myself to the side, off of the table and looked around.
I was in a large warehouse, it seemed. I could hear footsteps, a clacking of metal on stone, and I quickly lay back down. The footsteps stopped outside the door. I heard that cold, nasal voice, and lay the band over my forehead, and slipped my hand back into the broken restraint. The woman was obviously talking on a cell phone.
“… I told you what I need. I need a Partial, with cardiac arrest. They’re common enough. I put the imbecile social worker off with some story about an autopsy for research purposes, but that’ll only hold so long.”
There was a pause, and then the voice came back. “I am aware of the risks I’m taking. How was I supposed to know that this mutt used to be the Daniels brat? It would make a great story, though. Son of the famous game design duo dies from MORFS. Brilliant. The society pages will eat it up.”
Another pause, this one longer. “I will get him to you as soon as I get my cadaver. I don’t do this for your religious fervor, I do it for the money, and the promise that you can get me my lab. I’m not risking my career for you. You want this thing for your research; you bring me a cadaver I can give his sister. Or I can FORCE cardiac arrest and hand him off. That would work just as well, and I really don’t care.”
A brief pause this time. “I know that. I don’t care about a long term relationship with you. I know better. Get me my money and my corpse, and I’ll contact you when I have another test animal.” There was a snap, as if she had shut something, and then I heard her walk away.
I sighed and snapped my other free of the restraints. I sat up and looked around, taking in my surroundings. If this was a hospital room, I was the King of Siam. Then I looked down at myself. A very fuzzy King of Siam, apparently. I was quite obviously a hybrid.
I stood up and examined myself, despite some unsteadiness in my balance. I was taller, that much was obvious, and much heavier, though exactly what my new height and weight were was a mystery that could wait till later. At a rough estimate, I would guess I was almost eight feet tall or so. From the unexpected girth in my shoulders and the size of my bicep, I estimated that my weight had tripled to quintupled. My legs and feet had changed, as well as my posture. I felt like I was standing on the balls of my feet, with the part of my body that my brain had associated with my heel over a foot off the ground. I looked at my feet. The proportions and structure seemed odd, and when I tried to take a step, my balance failed again.
I staggered and fell forward, onto my hands. And suddenly, it was fine. I was on my hands, staring around the room, and it was fine. I moved my hands and feet, trying to walk on all fours, and it worked out all right. I was no great image of grace, down there on the floor, but it got the job done. But damned if I was going to run around like a dog if I didn’t have to. Back to the bed then, and haul myself up.
Once I got back on my feet, or I should say off my hands, I tried a few steps. I was wobbly. It would take a lot of work, but I should be able to get used to it. But not now. This would make getting out harder, but not impossible.
I sighed, and ran my hand over my face. That’s when I made my big mistake. You see, right then, I had a chance of getting out. Not a great chance, perhaps, but there was a chance. What happened here was caused mostly by my new anatomy. You see, my face had changed. It was more then just a muzzle. My whole head was very much a wolf’s, from the doggie ears to the slightly inset eyes. I looked like a movie werewolf. And I had the inch plus long talons, one on the end of each finger, to boot. And when I ran my hand down the side of my new face, the talon on the end of my middle finger scraped into the flesh of my forehead, down over my eyebrow, and into my right cheekbone, and down over the side of my muzzle, ending by my jawbone. And it split the skin wide open as it went. I was lucky I didn’t take my eye out. I stood there and sighed, and then I felt the wetness, and saw the blood drip over my eye, and I looked at my hand, and saw the bloody claw.
And then it HURT.
The pain was blinding. I gasped, and if I could have kept silent, I might have had a chance. I couldn’t. I cried out in pain. It came out as a howl, but I didn’t care. I slapped my hand back to my face in a vain attempt to stop the pain, and only succeeded in slashing two more lines across the first in my forehead. I howled in pain again, and the door to my room burst open.
There were five of them, dressed as orderlies. They didn’t carry themselves as orderlies though. They were all big men, with large black sticks that they held at one end, and they stared at me in shock for a bare moment, and then they advanced on me. There was no concern or sympathy in those expressions, only cruel malice and disgust. I lashed out, feebly, and one of them scampered back. I staggered forward, and there was a blinding pain from the side of my wounded eye. I fell to the ground, on my hands, and the one on my other side growled, “Just like a dog.”
He jabbed the stick at me before I recovered, and pain lanced through me again. Cattle prods. They were armed with cattle prods. I tried to move, but they shocked me again. And again. The pain drove the breath from me in pitiful yelps, and my vision tunneled till all I could see was the feet of the man before me. I didn’t give up. They never stopped the pain, and eventually the darkness closed around me and I floated away in it.
When I awoke, I was back on the gurney. I was muzzled, I couldn’t see out of my right eye, and my face still hurt like hell. I tried to move my arms and legs, only to find them manacled again, this time with chains, and a great deal more of them then before. I could not move. “You won’t get loose again,” the cold voice called out from my left. “And you’ll have a nice set of scars from that eye accident. Just lie there, and I won’t have to hurt you even more.” She accompanied that last with another jab with the cattle prod. I stopped moving.
“Good,” she replied, and walked away. I took a deep breath through my nose, and made a point to remember this. If I ever got loose, I was going to rip her arms off. But first I had to escape. I would be patient, I would get my chance. Eventually.
Or perhaps not. The gurney I was on was wheeled out after her, and down a hall. I had a breathtaking view of a cement ceiling with ancient fluorescent lighting hanging from it. We must have been in the storage area. I was wheeled through what felt like a maze of halls, until I was passed through a doorway and into a larger room where I could hear the road, distantly.
Up a ramp and into the back of a van I went, and the slamming of the rear doors was like the slamming of my own coffin. I struggled a bit, but it was futile. The van started, and drove me away from my life. It wasn’t a long drive.
It seemed like longer, hours and hours, with me sitting there, stewing in my own fear and anxiety, but objectively it wasn’t far. I was unloaded onto a loading dock at a warehouse somewhere and tossed in the back of a truck. The gurney was rolled over next to a cage, stood up, and the chains were undone, and I pitched forward into the cage. The door slammed closed behind me.
The cage was reasonably large, perhaps ten feet on a side, and just tall enough for me to stand without hitting my head. There was a large bucket of some kind of ground meat, the smell making my nose twitch, and a large jug of water, with a pan of sand as my only toilet. I turned and slammed the door, but the bars held, and I got another jab with a cattle prod for my efforts.
I fell to the floor, and twitched a bit. The men about me laughed, and walked off. As they left, I heard a rumbling, and I saw a forklift heading over my cage. The cage was lifted up, and I struggled to maintain my balance, grabbing the ceiling for support. I hadn’t had a chance to get the muzzle off of my face, so I couldn’t even protest as they loaded me into a crate, cage and all, and nailed it shut. It was dark inside, but I could still see, in this sort of dim, washed out way, and I heard them move the crate. Then I heard the sound of a door rolling closed, I lost even my washed out vision, and I heard the sound of a bio-diesel engine starting up.
I was alone, in the dark, in a cage, turned into some kind of freakish monster, and everyone who knew me thought I was dead. I sat there and cried.
Now, what was really going on here? Damned if I knew. I mean, I figured it out later, but at the time, all I knew was the completely dehumanizing treatment I had been given. They had treated me like an animal, referencing my old identity in the past tense, and using words like ‘it’ and ‘the animal’ to describe me. More than a small bit traumatizing, all in all. So, how was I, a young, inexperienced, and abandoned child to deal with it? I cried. I mourned my life, my identity, and as I mourned, a terrible anger formed within me.
It was hard, this anger. My life hadn’t been easy, but I was always a soft touch. This was different. The anger made me hard, cold. Untouchable by any emotion but rage. It was a different emotion from the anger that had driven my previous attempt at escape, less volatile, less chaotic. It was cold, subtle, and overwhelming. I would not stop, would not yield, would not veer away from my stated goal. I would escape, and I would take back all that had been taken from me. God have mercy on anyone who got in my way, because I wouldn’t.
So I sat in my little hole, in the dark, and I waited. When I got hungry enough, I ate the meat in the bucket, and then used the bucket as a toilet. I got the muzzle off, and discarded it. I tried talking to myself, there in the dark. I couldn’t. My mouth and face just weren’t shaped right for the job. So I sat there. I tried to ration my water somewhat, but there was enough there for me to last for almost a week. They must have just taken one of the spare jugs for the water cooler and dumped it in the cage. I didn’t want to think about where they got that much raw ground meat. Didn’t want to think about the meat at all, really, or I’d be seeing it again.
I have no real idea of how long I had been in there, but it was longer then a day, less then a week. I slept several times, but as there was nothing to do but sit there and wait, I may have spent a lot of time asleep. But, eventually, I was awakened by the most startling thing. The truck had stopped. It hadn’t stopped since it had driven me away from New York. I quickly stood and grabbed the bars of the ceiling of my cage, and strained my ears for any hint of sound. I closed my eyes, because they did me no good in the near absolute darkness of the crate, and I didn’t want to be blinded if they opened the crate to daylight. So standing there in the dark and the silence, I waited.
I didn’t wait long. After a moment, I heard the sounds of a door being opened, and I turned my self to face it. Shortly thereafter, I heard the whine of a motor, and the crate moved. Wonderful, they weren’t taking any chances by opening the crate; they were just going to move the whole crate into wherever I was going. I hung on and cursed my captors in my head.
I was trundled along, still in my crate, for a few minutes. I could tell, by using my body as a plumb bob, that I went down several ramps, most likely in circles. Eventually, they dropped me off and I heard the sounds of prying behind me. I turned to face the sound. I closed my eyes again, and I think I managed not to flinch when the light changed. From the gasps, I assumed that my captors hadn’t had such luck. I opened my eyes.
There were five of them. Five of them for one of me, I felt flattered. They were all dressed in sturdy grey jumpsuits, free of any logos or nametags. I lifted my lips in a snarl and they flinched again. I didn’t try to push it any farther just then, as I noticed they also all had cattle prods. I just stood there and stared at them. They didn’t seem to want to move. Was I really that threatening?
“Stop staring at it and get moving!” a commandeering voice called out. “It’s just an overgrown dog!”
“Yes Director,” snapped the men, but I sensed an undercurrent of fear and resentment in their tone, as if they wished this mysterious speaker would come in and do it himself. It didn’t deter them though, and they pulled over a pallet dolly, and rolled my cage out.
As they cage rolled out of the crate, I got my first look at this ‘Director’ and I wasn’t impressed. He was a tall man, cadaverously thin, with a long face and sallow skin. His lab coat draped over him, and he wore loose fitting charcoal grey dress pants and a gunmetal grey shirt under it. I think I figured out who bought the jumpers. I sneered at him. He sniffed. “Get it into the processing area. I want it cleaned.” He stalked away, leaving his lackeys to deal with me. I followed him with my stare until he left the room.
The lackeys pushed my cage through a large room, and rammed the end of it with the door into another door. I just raised a brow ridge at them. Were they really going to let me out? How stupid could they be?
Not that stupid, apparently. The door opened, and the bars on my cell were removed, leaving me only one way to go, through the door. The men with the cattle prods were rather insistent, so through the door I went.
The doors lead to a small corridor, and once I was in, the door shut behind me. I glanced at it, and then studied the corridor. As far as I could tell, it was just a corridor, so I started walking. As I went, I spotted the cameras hidden in the corners. So I was being watched. No surprises there. I walked with as much dignity as I could manage. Strangely, I didn’t feel naked. Perhaps it was all the fur. Perhaps it was the anger. I didn’t really care. I just stalked to the door at the other end and stood there, waiting.
It opened after a few seconds. The other side was a small corridor barred off from the rest of the room. There were men with hoses on either side. I knew what was coming. I was going to get power washed. I stalked out to the middle of the short corridor, aware of the sound of the door closing behind me, and braced myself against the bars, ready for what was bound to be an unpleasant experience.
I was not disappointed. The water shot at me with fire-hose strength, and the men in front of me weren’t pleasant. They aimed at my face with malicious cruelty, and I felt the scabs around my eye break off. When that failed to draw a reaction, they aimed lower. I gasped and leaned against the bars, and glared at them. I memorized their faces. I was going to hurt these men if I ever found them again.
Eventually, they finished my ‘bath’ and I was allowed to leave the corridor through the other door. At no point did any of the cowards get within ten feet of the bars.
The other side of the door was another small portable cage, and I stepped inside with a sigh. They took this cage and trundled me down a hall filled with larger, permanent cages. About half of them held other hybrids; some of them looked mostly human, with only their ears changed, or a tail. Others were almost as inhuman as I. All appeared at least a little out of it. Drugged then, or torture. This wasn’t looking good.
I was dropped off in my own personal cage, and the handler’s left, the door closing with a finality that implied that this was to be my new residence for the foreseeable future. The décor was massively out of style, something in turn of the century zoo, perhaps. All but one wall was smooth featureless concrete, with a pit of rough woolen blankets as a rudimentary bed, and hole in the floor for a toilet. I assumed that any food would be delivered, but there was a basin for water built into the wall near the floor.
I tested my claws against the wall, and found that they would make a decent mark, so I sat down and started to draw. I was never much of an artist, but that didn’t matter. I started to sketch stick figures, whatever amused me. It wasn’t much of a distraction, but it was a way to occupy my time. I even managed a few rather sophomoric bits of humor, there on my wall. They brought me food later, a hunk of raw meat. I gave the guard who brought it a sad little stare, and sighed. I did, however, eat it. I didn’t think about it, I just ate it. I’d need my energy. After I was done, I went back and continued my sketching.
And that fairly set the pattern for the next week or two. I sat there amusing myself, and they fed me. Oh, it was fairly obvious that they were trying to drug me. The water tasted of it, and the meat smelled of it. Occasionally I would get dizzy for a moment, but it passed swiftly enough. Apparently something about my change made their drugs not work. While that was fascinating, and amused me to no end, especially when the director or one of his flunkies would be waiting there watching me drink, and then fume in disgust and annoyance as whatever it was they had put in the water did absolutely nothing, at least as far as they could tell, and it frustrated them to no end. I think the best they managed was to make me see pretty colors for about half a minute.
After about a month of that, they gave it up. They left me alone for about a week, and then they came at me with something else. They threw other prisoners at me.
It started innocently enough. A cage was rolled up in front of my cell, and the doors to both were lined up. I was ‘encouraged’ to leave, with prods if necessary, and then I was wheeled away. I was taken through a corridor, and similarly ‘encouraged’ out of my transport and into a large room. The room was empty this time, but would later be filled with obstacles and simulated terrain. Then the door at the other end opened, and one of the other prisoners was let out. I could tell, from the set of her shoulders and the way she was moving her eyes and head that she was on something seriously warped.
She cast about for all of a second, and then she spotted me. She attacked immediately. She was a hybrid of feline decent of some sort, and she acted like it. She ran at me on all fours, despite not having the physiology for it. I just stood there and waited.
As she got near me, she vaulted at me and tried to claw my eyes out. Or she would have, if she reached me. I waited there, and when she jumped, I smacked her. It was like playing baseball or tennis. She lined herself up, and I swatted her. It wasn’t personal, but she was in the way. I walked over to her as she got up and kicked her as hard as I could. She skidded across the floor and slumped against the wall. I walked over again and stepped on her head and forced her down to the ground. I bent over and closed my hand over her windpipe and squeezed as gently as I could. After a few minutes, she stopped struggling and fell unconscious. I stood up and walked over to the door I had entered from. The door opened, and I walked back into my cage, and sat down, and they conveyed me back to my cell.
It was later that day that I realized my mistake. I heard the most awful screams echoing through the compound. What made it unbearable was that I recognized them. They were the not quite still human screams of the woman I had been forced to fight. I sat there and listened, and choked back tears. I fed my grief into my anger, forcing it give me resolve.
Later, the true depth of my error was revealed. It was later in the week, and the guards walked past my cell. They were wheeling a table with the remains of a prisoner on it. I followed them with my eyes, and one of them chuckled, “I wonder if it knows that it was its little pack mate.” I narrowed my eyes, and the two of them trundled past. So that’s what it was. They did that to her, because she lost. And she was alive while they did at least part of it. I closed my eyes and mourned.
Later, they did it again. They would haul me back to that room, and sic one of my fellow prisoners’s on me. This time I was merciful. I killed them, quickly and cleanly, and as painlessly as I could. After two more of their test subjects wound up with their throats neatly cut under my claws they gave it up, and it was my turn to find out what the director did with those he deemed useless.
I don’t know why they decided that it was time to dissect me; I only know that they did. I wasn’t really privy to their discussions. My time there was mostly spent sitting in my cell, going over the faces of the dead, my victims. I would sit and think, and pray for forgiveness. I was never particularly religious, but I did have faith. I had faith that God existed, and that he watched over us. That there was an afterlife, where peace and healing could be found, and that you would meet your ancestors there. I prayed for my victims, and hoped that they would find peace and healing in whatever came after. So when they came for me a little over three months after I had arrived, I didn’t think anything of it. Men had come to observe me before.
What did surprise me was when one of them pulled out a rifle and shot me. I collapsed with a dart in my neck. The tranquilizer was nearly ineffective, but it stunned me long enough for the guards to get in by me with the cattle prods. I may have been thrown off the drug inhumanly fast, but the pain and spasms from the electricity sent me to the floor.
I was chained, muzzled, and strapped to a table. They were taking no chances. I couldn’t move. I was wheeled away, and brought to a room in the complex I had never seen before. It was a operating theater. I was rolled onto the table in the center of the room, and strapped down, spread eagle. I tried to resist, but there were half o dozen of them, and they had cattle prods. I struggled, but the end result was a foregone conclusion. I was subdued.
The director walked in, wearing surgical scrubs, accompanied by two other men in similar garb. “Let’s see what this one has to teach us, eh? It has been most efficient, if uncontrollable. Perhaps if we could isolate its strength without its resistance to the controls…”
The other’s just nodded, and started to wheel over the surgical tools. Then they started cutting into me.
I won’t be arrogant and say that I stood up to the torture and didn’t utter a peep. That’s just stupid. I don’t clearly remember what happened in that room, but I do know it hurt. I know what they did, vaguely. They vivisected me. They had life support equipment, and all sorts of other things to keep me alive as long as possible while they poked and prodded at my insides. They treated me like a high school biology frog, sitting on a dissection pan. And I was alive and awake the whole time.
As it turned out, they didn’t need that life support equipment. When they went to cut my arm open to study the construction of my muscles, the cut started to close right in front of them. They had to keep cutting it open or it closed up on them. And it hurt the same each time. After about an hour, I had screamed my voice hoarse. When they pried my ribs open to study my heart, I couldn’t even gasp. And through it all, they just stared dispassionately and made their scientific observations. My awareness narrowed to one thing.
I was going to KILL them.
All three of them.
I mercifully lost consciousness when they opened up my skull, and I knew no more till I awoke in my little cell.
They gave me three days to recover. I spent it huddled in the corner, shaking. When they came back, the director wasn’t there, but the one of the other two was. I stood there, shaking, while they opened the door and walked over to take me back to that torture chamber. This time I didn’t try to defend myself. I just started killing.
Two of them died almost instantly, as I rushed past the silly little cattle prods, and ripped their throats out. They died choking on their own blood. The next three tried to surround me, but I leapt at the one in front of me and ripped his faced off with my fangs. I tasted the metallic sweet taste of human blood, and I discarded him with a shake and sprang through the gate of my prison and onto the man who had tortured me.
Him, I didn’t kill right away. I was slow with him. I knew enough about biology to kill quickly, and enough to kill slowly. I chose to kill slowly. I gutted him, and yanked the mess of his intestines out onto the floor. I left him there, trying to hold his insides in, and slowly bleeding to death. He was dead; it would just take a while for his body to catch on.
I was off down the corridor. The guards had stopped in a futile effort to save the imbecile who had tortured me. I ran. I hadn’t been idle while they were playing their games, trying to discern my abilities, and I had a good idea of where I was, and how to get out. On all fours, I loped out of the cell block and into the corridors. It was a matter of minutes till I was back in the large room where I had first been let out of the crate. It seemed like forever ago. I looked around, and spotted the door up to the ramp. I headed towards it, and slammed into it. I looked around for a switch, a chain, some way to open it. There wasn’t one. I looked around, in a panic. I had to assume that the alarm had been sounded, and I needed out.
Then the door suddenly rolled open. I spun around, and stood face to face with the third man. He looked at me, and nodded. “Go, get the hell out of here,” he hissed, and started to take something out of his coat.
A shot rang out. The doctor slumped to the floor, a red stain spreading from his chest. A voice from behind me sneered, “Traitor, siding with these ANIMALS.” I stared at the doctor, oblivious to the sound of footsteps behind me.
I heard another shot, and felt something hit me hard in the back. I felt a cold wetness spreading from my back, and I fell forward. The dying doctor looked me in the eye and slid a flash drive in a sealed capsule at me. He tried to say something, but blood burbled from his lips and he fell forward. Another shot, another impact and I was face down on the floor. I grabbed the flash drive and slit my own stomach open. Before the wound healed, I slid the drive into the abdominal wall. The doctor had been letting me go, and had died trying it. He wanted me to have this thing, and damned if I was going to disappoint. I wanted to know what it was.
I started to struggle to my feet, the pain from the bullet wounds fast dissipating. It had been a high caliber round, but it was only a handgun. Not nearly enough stopping power to do more than stun me. But the Tazer to the base of the skull that he hit me with next was more than enough to put me down for the count. My last thought was that I hoped the shock didn’t hurt the drive.
When I woke, I was on the table in the operating theater again. This time, there were more then just surgical supplies there. There was a collar with some sort of tangle of wires and connectors hanging from it. Again I was tied down. This time, though, I was on my back. I couldn’t see, but I could hear when the director started the saw, and I could feel when he started cutting my skull off. And again, the pain drove me unconscious. This time, though, it wasn’t till I felt him start threading the wires from that thing into my brain that the pain rose up and, following it, blackness, and I mercifully felt no more.
The next time I awoke, it was back in my cell. I felt at my throat, and felt the cool metal of the collar. So it wasn’t a dream then. My hand wound around to the back of my head, and I felt the tangle of wires and metal going into the back of my head. What had he done to me?
“Sit,” the director’s voice cut out from behind me. I tried to turn, to rise and rip his head off, but I couldn’t. I tried. I told my legs to support me, to propel me towards my tormentor, but all I did was rotate and sit on my haunches. I glared at him, and tried to stand again, focusing all my effort on doing nothing but standing up. It accomplished nothing.
He laughed at me. “Good. Anger. Good. Now that I have you properly leashed and collared, we can begin to train you to be something useful.” He walked out of the cell and left the door open. As he went he called over his shoulder, “If you leave the room, Wolf, you will feel pain. Quite a lot.” He laughed as he left.
I, of course, had to test that. As if the proof of his control wasn’t obvious enough, I had to try to walk out of the door. And collapse in pain as soon as I tried it. It was like I was on fire, like I was being electrocuted, like I was being flayed alive. I collapsed, screaming. I barely managed to crawl back inside my cell, where the pain abated, and I lay there, gasping.
The director’s laughter floated to my ears, and I growled in frustration and anger. I crawled over to my bed, and collapsed, and shook with rage and indignity. The frustration of the whole situation. I would never escape, not from this.
In the morning, the director came back and instructed me to follow him. Then he began my training. I would learn how to track, how to hunt, how to fight. I was already good, this regimen made me lethally efficient. I lifted weights, I ran on four feet and on two, I climbed, and I swam. They put me through obstacle courses, and had me fight wild animals, including animals that had acquired MORFS abilities. Eventually, they started up the fights against the other inmates. I was no longer allowed to be merciful and kill them. If they didn’t do well enough, show enough promise, they were vivisected.
After a while, he started to let one or more of the inmates go, and I was to hunt them down. Sometimes I killed them, sometimes I only incapacitated them. Whenever I tried to do something else, either my body would freeze up, or the pain would come back. He had me under his thumb and we both knew it.
Until one day, about a year after I had initially been imprisoned, the director came to me and ordered me to follow him. I had little choice, so I did. I kept looking for some opportunity to kill him. Over the years, I had tried more then a few times, and each time right as I was about to do it, the pain knocked me to the floor. That didn’t stop me from trying again though. But to be honest, I was getting worn down. I was almost ready to give up. The cold, relentless anger that had sustained me was running down. I was almost ready to give up, to find a way to die. But not just yet. I wasn’t done yet. Maybe there was a way. I had a few tricks the director didn’t know about yet. And there was still that jump drive that was still in my gut. I still didn’t know what that was.
But I had to escape first. To do that, I needed to find a way to get this collar off. There were a few things I hadn’t tried yet. But those thoughts took a back seat when I realized where the director was taking me. He was leading me to the surface. He had done this once before, to prove that after I was given the run of the base, I really couldn’t leave. He took me to the car pool, here in the shadows of the early morning in Chicago. I had recognized the skyline in the distance, and I knew where I was, for all the good it did me. He had me get into another box, this one a smaller one, used for shipping meat. It was labeled as a beef carcass.
Once I was shut away in the dark, I was jostled as the box was loaded into a car. About twenty minutes later, I heard the director talking to someone. I couldn’t make out anything more then a few words. Just two places. San Francisco and Salicia. Great. Even I had heard of the one reason to make Salicia national news. The fucking ass wipe senator. I was probably being taken to be shown off. Just the thing to make my day. I was loaded into the jet, and minutes later, we took off. The director must have some pull to get a private jet cleared without security at O’Hare.
The flight was long, but they let me out of my box and into the cabin once we were up in the air. Apparently the plane was part of the program. The only reason for the box was to keep me hidden from non-program eyes. Very secret, was this illegal and inhumane project. I kept my sarcasm to myself, and enjoyed the food. It was the first cooked food I had had in over a year. I was relieved that I hadn’t lost my taste for it.
We arrived in San Francisco in the late morning, and I was put back in my box till we got to an alley behind some warehouse. I was then put in the back of a rental truck, and the director and I drove up to Salicia.
Now, if you think that being treated like an ambulatory piece of luggage didn’t piss me off, you’re wrong. But I just couldn’t get up the energy to fight it. I had been treated like crap, and yanked about by this damn collar for nine months now, and I was getting apathetic. It wasn’t that I didn’t get annoyed; I just couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it, so I saved up the anger, and waited. Eventually there would be a way to get free of this. There had to be.
So until I found that way, I did what I was told, like the tin solider I had been reduced to. The director even got me some Burger King, which would have been nice of him, only he never did anything nice for the ‘animals’ so he must have a reason for wanting me well fed. I began to think that this might not be just a simple trip to show me off. Something was up.
My first clue that I was right was when he pulled up to a random park. It was called Overlook Point, so I imagine that it had quite the view of the cove here. The natives called it Salicia Bay, but it wasn’t. San Francisco had a bay, this was a dinky cove.
He got out and looked around, then muttered something I couldn’t catch, and got back in. He drove off, obviously looking for something, and eventually stopped outside a stunningly large estate. The estate, what I could see of it through the tinted windows anyways, was a masterpiece of wealth and showmanship. It also looked like a battlefield. One of the windows at the back of the manor had been blown off, and there was a military hover-transport blasted and smoking on the lawn. What the hell happened here?
I wasn’t about to get any answers anytime soon, though. The director made a cell phone call, most likely to one of his sympathizers in that damned religious group of his. I shifted, and apparently the director heard it. “Quiet, Wolf, you’ll get to hunt soon enough.”
That was one of the few things that the director had never picked up on. He seemed convinced that I truly enjoyed hunting down and ripping my fellow human beings apart. But he had ordered me to be quiet, and the collar enforced that, so I sat there in cybernetic stillness and waited, and about a half hour later one of the FBI agents investigating the scene came out and handed him something through the window of the van. Then we drove off.
We drove around the city for a while, and it became obvious that the director was again looking for something specific. Eventually he found it. An alley with a small abandoned park behind it in the sleazier industrial part of the city. He drove up the side of the curb and parked. He walked around and opened the door. I lunged at him, hoping that in this setting, being unable for my eyes to register who he was, I would succeed. It didn’t work. I slammed into a wall of pain for just long enough to drop me to the floor of the van. “Wolf. Heel, Wolf,” he said, contempt in his voice. He tossed something in front of me and when I reached down to pick it up he said, “Hunt them down, Wolf. Disable, do not kill.”
The item on the floor was a pair of silk nightgowns. I was going to be forced to hunt down a pair of girls. Girls like my sister. I snarled at the director. I refused. I would not do this. Then the pain hit. Not the blinding, disabling pain of when I tried to escape, or kill the director. No, this was a subtler pain, a slow, persistent ache that would slowly grow worse the more I fought. I winced. I tried to fight it. I really did. I think I lasted about a minute. Then I gave in. Fine, I’d hunt them down. Or at least I’d try. They took out a military team and then got away. They’re probably pretty good. Hopefully they’re better then me.
I got out of the van and stretched, testing my joints and muscles after my long confinement. I glared at the director. One day, there would be a reckoning between us. I would not be enslaved forever. One day, I would have my revenge. He laughed that soft, mocking laugh of his, and just smiled. “Hunt, Wolf.”
I snarled at him one last time for good measure, and then brought the nightgowns up to my nose and took a long sniff. At least they smelled nice. I really hoped that anyone who smelled this nice was good enough to get away from me. I dropped to all fours and bounded away, staying hidden.
That was one of the things that had been rather brutally trained into me. Stay hidden during the hunt. You do no good as a hunter if your prey can see you coming and escape. I assumed that stealth was also important to maintaining the cover of the program. So I made my way to Overlook Point. I figured I’d check there first, since that was where the director had first stopped. What I found there was shocking. There was a gigantic fucking hole in the cliff. It was impressive as hell. But I did catch the scent of whoever it was I was tracking. It went off of the edge of the cliff, and off over the bay. Great, they flew. I hated flying prey; it made my job ten times harder. This fact gave me enormous joy. Perhaps they would indeed escape me. Nothing could please me more. Unfortunately, the collar wasn’t ready to let me admit failure, not yet anyway.
But, where would they go from here. I assumed that they drove here, and they destroyed their car to remove evidence. Where would they go from here? If they stole a car, it would be reported, and tracked. So that’s not good. There were no air or sea terminals closer then San Francisco, and they were certain to get caught if they tried to make it there on foot. So that wasn’t an option. What then?
Then it occurred to me. Train. There was a train yard near here, on the new maglev track. I had read about it and had noticed that Salicia was on the list of stops. Great. Let’s just hope they were stupid, or that their train had left. I bounded off for the train yards.
When I got to the yards, I spent a lot of time looking for the right train. I did eventually find it, but getting close was impossible. There were FBI agents and train yard workers everywhere. They were inspecting all the trains, and the car that the scent of the target was coming from was already sealed with the tape marking it as inspected. I wondered how they had managed to stay undetected or get around the tape. Irrelevant really. I needed to find a way to get at them. I pondered it for a moment. I couldn’t, not here. I would be seen. So I needed to find another way.
I withdrew to think about my approach. They were indeed on the maglev track, and it was the northbound one. So, Seattle or Portland then. I wondered what they would want up there. Irrelevant, again. I just needed to catch them. But the director never said to hurry. So I would be patient. I would follow them and wait for an opportunity. So I needed to get on that train. I slunk off, to follow the tracks north.
I followed the tracks north quite a while till I found what I wanted. A place where the track ran through a small valley going reasonably straight. I waited till I heard the whistle of the train approaching, and started to run. This would be risky as hell, but hey, worst that happens is that I screw up and die. That’s not so bad. Unfortunately for me, I pulled it off.
I ran silently parallel to the track, and when the first freight car appeared, I leapt. I landed on the car behind the targets quite silently, and considered my options. I could always attack now. I could likely rip open the aluminum of the freight car and attack them right here. I considered it for a moment, but then realized that that would seriously break secrecy, and give me away while they target had the time to run. So I would wait, and continue to trail them.
I padded to the back of the train, and leaned over the baggage car’s end. There was no inspection tape on this one, just an electronic lock. Easy enough to disable. I did so and swung myself inside. The car was apparently a late addition to the baggage. It was only half full of baggage containers, and there was a motorcycle strapped down. It was a real beauty of a cycle, too. I inhaled, taking in the smell of motor oil and fuel, and curled up next to the bike. It had been too long since I had slept outside of a cage. I would rest, and when the train began to slow, I would resume the hunt. I lay myself down and rested my head, and let my mind wander.
You know, it’s strange. I was lying there, being forced against my will to hunt down a complete innocent and drag them away to a life of torture and pain, and I felt peace. Perhaps it’s the fact that I was finally outside, and my mind connected the scents of the outdoors with a freedom I hadn’t known in a year. Perhaps it’s the fact that for the first time in nine months, since I had this collar implanted, I was moving again, acting instead of reacting. Perhaps it’s the fact that I knew, somehow, that this unknown target could end my torment, set me free, one way or another. I don’t know.
Now, I’m no precognitive. I didn’t know how it was going to end. Not there, not then. But I felt at peace, and I knew, somehow, that things were going to work out. For the first time since I saw the one man who, in the nightmare my life had become, had ever tried to help me get gunned down, I felt like I had a chance. Like things were going the way they were meant to go, the way they needed to go.
One way or another, I would catch up with the target. And one way or another, they would set me free. I don’t know where that certainty came from, but it gave me peace.
And you know what?
I was right.
Self conscious teenager, Stephanie Marks thought her unhappiness with her body was her only problem. Then she got MORFS...
WARNING!!!
This story contains scenes of Domestic Violence, abuse, slavery, betrayal, and, for lack of a better term, Evil. It does not end well. If this sort of thing disturbs you, or may cause psychological issues, then consider yourself warned. This story is not for everyone. I happen to think it is a worthwhile tale, if only from an educational point of view, but I understand that I am not the sole opinion. If you cannot bear to read a story that contains these things, then stop now.
If not, don’t come crying to me, because I warned you.
The Tales of the Improbables
By: Darian Deamos
The Second Tale: Stheno
Stephanie Marks woke on the morning of a beautiful summer day, and slowly looked around. Her first order of business was, as always, to check her chest for any development. And as always, she found nothing.
Well, that’s not exactly true. There were breasts there, as there should be on a girl as beautiful as Stephanie was, but they were, in her mind, far too small. Barely A cups. The one great shame in her life, the one mar on her beauty. Her bust… was a bust.
Sighing, she got up and went over to her dresser, and pulled out her one indulgence. Her one secret weapon. Well, perhaps not so secret, per se, but nobody outside of the family knew about them. Putting them aside (They weren’t exactly small, her secret weapons) she grabbed her clothing for the day, and ran to the shower.
A quick wash of the body, wince at the underdeveloped chest, and she could spend time on her real asset. Her hair. She lovingly soaped, conditioned, and massaged her scalp and the beautiful honey gold tresses that cascaded off of it.
When she was done, she wrapped her hair in a towel, dried herself, and dressed for the day. Carefully applying the all day adhesive and makeup, she applied her forms, and donned the rest of her foundation. Admiring the D cup bust line her forms gave her, she smiled at the vanity, and sat. She unwrapped her hair, and began to lovingly dry and brush her magnificent golden mane. She sat there, almost in a trance, brushing and drying and looking, till she heard her mother call from the stairs.
“Stephanie Marks! If you don’t hurry it up, you’ll have to skip breakfast, and I will NOT let you go cavort around without a proper breakfast!” her mother yelled.
Stephanie looked at the clock and winced. It had been forty minutes. She had spent forty minutes just brushing her hair. Well, at least she was getting better… Hurrying to finish, she donned her clothing in a rush, and headed downstairs to eat.
Breakfast was an energetic meal. Stephanie was excited about her day, so much so that she didn’t even mind her little brother’s taunts about her being a ditz. “Shrimp,” she replied ruffling her hair as she sat down, “you have no idea what makes a girl tick.”
The shrimp, also known as her brother David, shrugged his head out from under his hand, and snorted. “Right, why would I WANT to know anything about a bunch of girls,” he retorted, heaping disdain down on the fairer sex from his lofty vantage point of thirteen. He was just old enough to be fascinated by girls, but too young to admit it.
“Now, now, David,” their mother soothed him as she brought out the plate with Stephanie’s grapefruit and toast on it. She set it down along with the glass of juice, and Stephanie smiled at her mother.
“Thanks Mom,” Stephanie said as she got out her spoon and started to eat her grapefruit. She had decided last year that she couldn’t stand the thought of hurting living animals, so she had decided to go vegan. Besides, it was supposed to be healthier for her. Her father didn’t approve, but he was never around for breakfast anyway. He went and ate at I-Hop or someplace every morning with the guys at whatever construction job he was running this month.
Stephanie sighed, and forced her thoughts away from her father. He wasn’t here, so she wouldn’t think about him. Besides, she had cheer squad practice this morning, and afterwards she was going mall crawling with the gang. It was going to be so cool.
She applied herself to her breakfast with gusto, and bounced up, eager to go. “I’m off, Mom,” she called as she left the kitchen.
Her mother called out from the living room where she was already vacuuming the floor to have a nice day, and then she was out of the house. It would be a bit of a walk to the school, about fifteen minutes, but Stephanie didn’t mind. It was a beautiful summer day, and she would enjoy the walk.
Sumner Spring High was an old high school, built back when Chicago was first expanding during the industrial revolution, and the concept of a suburb came into existence. It had undergone dozens of renovations and refittings since then. Stephanie thought that the best part of this archaic, convoluted, labyrinthine building was that the locker rooms, having been expanded several times, often around other areas, were anything but open and airy. This pleased Stephanie because it allowed her to change into her cheerleading uniform without giving away the secret of her miserable bust.
It was rather difficult to arrange to get her locker out of the way in one of the many secluded corners of the gym, but convincing the coach that she was body shy managed the trick. Thankfully, the squad uniforms were relatively modest. Showing actual cleavage was unnecessary.
Once she was dressed, she came out from her little alcove and walked through the locker room. She headed out to the field, making sure not to stare at the other dressing girls. She had been getting the strangest urges to stare at them lately, a strange fascination that she put down to envy most times. Even she had to admit, she had a bit of a breast fixation.
Once she was out on the field, things were simpler. It was just her, a dozen or so other girls, running, jumping, and doing all manner of acrobatics. Whoever said that cheerleading wasn’t a sport obviously never competed. It was like an entire gymnastics routine, crossed with synchronized swimming and ballroom dancing. When the four hour practice was done, she walked back to the locker room, changed back into her sweats and headed home.
On her way out, one of her friends called out, “See you at the mall in a bit, Steph?”
Stephanie smiled, and waved back. “Oh hell yes Dee. I’m gonna go home and shower first though.”
Diane laughed, but one of the girls next to her called out, “What, you need to clean your hair again?”
Stephanie just laughed and waved as she left. She wanted to go back in and get into it with the girls, but she itched with sweat. Clean first. She could trade insults at the mall.
An hour later she was clean, changed into something slightly more stylish then sweats, and walking into the mall. It was immediately obvious where her compatriots were meeting her once she walked into the food court. It was the three tables pushed together with the dozen most beautiful girls that Stephanie had ever seen gathered around sitting at them. She felt a pang of some unknown emotion, and then smiled broadly when Diane waved at her.
“You made it!” her friend cried out as she made it to the table.
Stephanie smiled. “Yeah. I had to wash my hair, so it took a while, but I did say I was coming.” She sat herself at the table. “So, what’s the game today?” she smiled at the group.
Jeanne smiled back, and pointed across the food court. “Boys are the game today. The football team is here on a ‘Team Building Excursion’ and we’re to see if there’s any decent boyfriend material amongst them.”
Stephanie smiled and sat down to join in. The socializing in a friendly and accepting setting was welcome. She smiled at the new girl on the team. Rumor had it that she used to be a he, and that she transferred schools to get away from the teasing. Well, it didn’t matter. What did matter was that she was an extremely pretty girl who simply should NOT look that shy. It just was not right. She dug around in her brain for the girl’s name. Ashley, that was it.
“Ash, what’s the problem?” she inquired of the new girl.
Ashley shot her a wry look. “Not much. Just a little out of sorts. Guy watching really isn’t my thing.”
Stephanie smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Just go with the flow.”
Ashley shrugged. “Yes, yes. It’s not about the guys. It’s about the friends you have around you.” She grinned mirthlessly. “I know that. It’s just that the topic of boys, in that context, is a little odd for me right now.”
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. “So the rumors are true?”
Ashley nodded glumly. “Yup.”
Stephanie grimaced. “Yeah, I can see how that could get odd.” She paused for a moment. “But think about it this way. You know all the boys from Delarose, right. You can tell us who’s a player, and who’s actually worth dating, eh?”
Ashley smiled with genuine pleasure this time. “Ah. I never thought of that. It’s more of an intellectual exercise then?”
Samantha nodded. “Yup. Besides, even if you never hook up, learning how the girls look at boys will never hurt. Now let’s join the girls, shall we?”
Ashley nodded, and the two of then joined the larger discussion.
It was late in the afternoon, and while the rest of the team was still in high spirits, Stephanie felt tired. Weary, even. So, it was with great reluctance that she decided to cut her evening short, and head home. As she went, Ashley looked at her with a silent question. Her look asked ‘is something wrong?’ more clearly than any word.
Stephanie shook her head and just shrugged. “Not feeling to hot, might have overdone it in practice.”
Ashley frowned, and looked down at the table. “Are you sure?” she whispered.
Stephanie smiled. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
Ashley shook her head, and forced a smile on her face. “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”
Stephanie smiled, and nodded at the girl. “See you there.” Turning her back, she walked out of the mall.
She pulled her car into the driveway of her home, out in the suburbs of Chicago, and sighed as she saw her father’s car. She walked into the house, and smiled at her mother in the kitchen as she moved quietly past her father sitting in front of the television, a drink in his hand. Quietly she walked up to her room.
She had barely gotten her ‘secret weapons’ put away and gotten her shirt back on again when her mother knocked politely on her door. “Dinner’s ready, dear,” she called politely.
Stephanie groaned. “I’m not hungry mom. I’m feeling a little off.”
Mrs. Marks made a sympathetic noise. “What should I tell your father?”
“Tell him it’s my period or something.” She flopped on the bed as her mother murmured her agreement. Her father never could be bothered with what he deemed ‘women’s problems.’ She sighed, got her hot water bottle for her middle, and retrieved the book she was reading from her bedside table.
It was another of her secrets, her reading. She didn’t want to be seen as too intelligent, it would mark her as one of the nerds or geeks, and she was far too pretty to be one of those. But still, there was a fascination with history and fiction that was undeniable, so she hid her reading by keeping her hobby in her room. Just like she hid all her other deficiencies there.
How else was she to attract a proper boyfriend after all? It’s not like any kind of decent boyfriend material would be attracted to a flat chested brainiac. And one must have the proper boyfriend, after all. It’s like having the right sweater, or purse, or hairstyle. It complimented her style, and secured her image. It made her one of the ‘popular people.’
So she skipped dinner, not because she was feeling ill, but because she was too weak to handle her ‘woman’s issues.’ She wasn’t reading, she was resting. And she was always hopelessly in love with her latest boyfriend.
This book was her latest fascination, a collection of Greek myths. She sat down and began to apply herself to her reading.
It was hours later, and she had just finished the story of the Gorgon sisters. She knew all about Medusa, of course. It was just that she had never heard that she had had sisters. She wondered what it was like for them, what those two women, Stheno and Euryale, had experienced as monsters like that, and as their sister and queen Medusa was slain by Perseus. She was especially fascinated by Stheno. Stheno the Mighty. She wished she could be mighty. It might make things easier.
Then she heard something from downstairs that made her put the book away. Her father had been drinking again, and was starting to yell. She put the book away in its drawer, and turned out the light.
As her father got louder, she pulled the covers over her chin, and cowered in the moonlight. She could hear him screaming at her mother, at insignificant and imagined faults and errors. As she gazed out the window at the stars, she heard the first blow, and winced in sympathy.
She shivered, alone, and hoped that he wouldn’t decide that her ‘lack’ was no longer a reason to deprive himself of any ‘rights’ he might have over her. She heard him loudly claiming those ‘rights’ over her mother, as it was.
She lay there awake, despite her weariness, long after the sounds of her father had faded to the other side of the house.
The next morning, the state of things had taken no improvement at all, although the reason for the gloom in her outlook had nothing to do with her surroundings and more with her situation, if such a distinction is clear. In this case, the distinction, while in abstract minor, becomes major in experience. For while the oppressive fear of her father was gone, what with him off to the job site, the oppression of his presence was replaced, as if by some law of conservation of misery, by debilitating nausea and ache.
And this was the first thing that Stephanie noticed. The dull, persistent, and overpowering full body ache, with a nausea that threatened to bring up the contents of her stomach as she tried to rise from her bed. She lay back with a moan, and decided that perhaps not leaving her bed was the better choice of action, her body filled with a lassitude underlying her discomfort reinforcing this decision.
She likely fell asleep again, as the next thing she heard was her mother coming in the room calling, “Stephanie?” She seemed concerned.
Blearily, she lifted her head. “Mhuh?”
The sight that greeted her was unpleasant. Her mother didn’t have any bruises on her face. But that was about the best you could say. She seemed bent over, her very atmosphere saying beaten and defeated. But worst was the look of despair and fear on her face. “Are you alright honey?” she asked, the unspoken question hanging unsaid in the air, ‘Did your father hurt you?’
“I’m fine mom,” Stephanie responded. She snuck a glance at her mother’s more than ample bosom. “Other then wishing I took after you a little more, I guess I’m fine.” She struggled to put on a brave face for her mother. “I guess I just overdid it a bit at practice yesterday.”
Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, and gently put a hand on her daughter’s chest, keeping her from getting up. “You take after me more then you think.” At Stephanie’s astonished look, she smiled wryly. “Why do you think I said we couldn’t afford the surgery you wanted?” She felt Stephanie’s forehead. “And I think this is more then just you overdoing it. Stay here.”
She left the room for a moment, leaving her daughter contemplating what she had just said. So her mother has implants? And, she realized, the only thing keeping her father’s eyes away from her was the fact that he knew that she was flat under the forms. That it was all an illusion. Suddenly she felt very proud of her mother.
Before she had a chance to really get her head around all the implications of that train of thought, her mother came back into the room holding a small black box. She smiled at Stephanie, and politely asked, “Can I have your hand for a second dear?”
Her reflexes, trained for seventeen years to do as she was told, moved her hand out from under the covers before her brain, befuddled and slowed by the discomfort and exhaustion she felt as it was, could intervene. Her mother calmly took a finger, pressed the box into it, and there was a sharp pain as a needle drew blood.
“Owchie,” Stephanie yelped as she yanked her abused hand back. “What was that for mom?”
“Just checking something dear,” her mother replied with a distracted air. She was staring at the back of the device, waiting for something. Suddenly she sighed. “Try to get dressed dear. We’re going to have to pay a visit to the doctor. And don’t bring the forms.” Her tone was polite and calm, but there was a firm strength beneath it that bore no argument.
Stephanie sighed as her mother left the room. She knew better then to argue with her mother when she took that tone. Slowly, and with much protesting from her body, which wanted no part of this plan, she began to get dressed in a simple sweat suit. She left the bra off, because without the forms, she didn’t have enough up top to even need one.
When she got downstairs, she mother was waiting in her coat, with the car keys in her hand. She nodded, and helped her daughter out to the car. She drove with a swift surety, so much so that Stephanie didn’t notice right away that they weren’t going to her usual doctor’s office.
“Mom?” she asked, “where are we going?”
“Don’t worry dear, just relax. It’ll be all right.”
Stephanie didn’t want to just accept that, but she was so exhausted that her body gave her very little choice. The next thing she knew, her mother had pulled into a parking garage.
“Come on, dear. Just a little farther.” Her mother’s voice was calm and encouraging, so Stephanie roused herself, and stumbled out of the car, and followed her mother into the building.
The interior was well lit and sterile. Stephanie winced at the glare, and hunched over. She stumbled to the seats lining the wall, and collapsed into one, while her mother went over and talked to the nurse at the desk.
She didn’t hear what her mother said, but the discussion was brief, and apparently fruitful, as shortly thereafter she found herself being lifted into a wheelchair and rolled into a private room. They waited there for some time, an amount lost to Stephanie, as she fell asleep as soon as she stopped moving.
Her sleep was not deep, however. She woke to the sound of the door opening. A haggard looking doctor walked into the room, and nodded at her and her mother. “Mrs. Marks?” he asked.
Stephanie’s mom nodded. “I used a home test kit, but the instructions said to see a professional.”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll get an answer as soon as I can.” He turned to Stephanie and politely asked, “I’ll need to draw some blood, if that’s all right with you Miss?” Stephanie nodded, and he took a small blood sampler from the pocket of his lab coat and pricked her finger. He took a sample, and nodded politely at Stephanie and then addressed her mother. “I should have an answer in under an hour.” He nodded again, and left the room.
Stephanie felt her mother take her hand, and lay back to rest. She slipped back into sleep almost instantly. She didn’t wake until her mother was putting her in the car, and that only briefly. Her mother kissed her, and murmured, “Just relax honey, it’ll be fine.”
She slept all through the car ride home, and woke again as her mother pulled into the driveway. She roused herself enough to shuffle into the house, and stumbled into her room. Her mother followed her up. She sat on the bed, and slumped. Her mother put the small bottle of pills and the bag of energy bars on her nightstand, and set down a glass of water. Then she moved over and hugged her daughter. “It’ll be fine honey. It happens to so many people these days. Just eat the energy pack, take your pill, and rest. It’ll be over before you know it.”
Stephanie hugged her mother back, and whispered, “Thanks Mommy.”
Her mother hugged her tightly for a moment, and then stood up, and walked over to the door. “I love you Stephanie,” she murmured, almost too soft to be heard, and then she latched the door behind her.
Stephanie sighed, and reached for one of the energy packs. Slowly, she peeled the wrapper off, and methodically munched it down. Then she shook out one of the pills and stared at it. Intellectually, she knew what it was. It was a painkiller mixed with a powerful sedative, to deaden any pain and keep her asleep. It was designed to accelerate the process, and get it over with as soon as was reasonable. The stupid thing was also a freaking horse pill. Grimacing, she put the horse pill in her mouth and downed the glass of water to wash it down.
She stripped out of her clothes and sighed, looking down. Hopefully, if there was any justice in the world, MORFS would correct nature’s cruel joke and give her breasts larger then freaking grapes. One could always hope. She stripped off her clothes and lay her aching body down on her bed, not even bothering with sheets, and closed her eyes.
Moments later, she was dead to the world.
Slowly, Stephanie roused herself from slumber, blinking the grit from her eyes. She groaned softly, and swung herself upright, feeling a shifting of weight, a motion on her chest.
Wait.
A shifting weight on her chest?
What?
She snapped her eyes open, suddenly wide awake, and looked down.
She had breasts.
Real, actual, flesh. She had breasts!
She grabbed her chest in shock, sure it was a dream.
She felt the breasts in her hands, and gaped. It wasn’t a dream. MORFS was giving her real, actual, breasts. A woman’s breasts, not those prepubescent things that she had been forced to deal with before. It was wonderful. She jumped from the bed and began to dance around the room.
As she did so, she knocked her pillow off the bed. When that happened, she scattered the moderate dusting of hair off of the pillow, sending it cascading out into the room. She was so happy she didn’t even notice.
She danced and hummed to herself for some unknown time, so thrilled and happy to finally be getting, as she put it, what she deserved.
Eventually, though, her elation gave way to more pressing matters. Matters like her bladder, which was threatening to burst. Quickly, she ran to the bathroom and relieved matters. That was when she noticed it. There were nails through the door to her brother’s room.
She had just finished relieving matters, when she looked at the door. They weren’t huge or anything, but she hadn’t grown up the daughter of a carpenter without picking up a few things. Those were the very tips of nails sticking out of her brother’s door. And there were very few things that could mean. Carefully, she walked over and tried to open the door.
The knob turned, but there was no give. The door simply would not move out into the room, and it could not open in. Someone had nailed the door shut. Someone didn’t want her brother getting in to her room through the bathroom. This was bad.
Choking down panic, she ran out into her room, absently kicking her pillow across the room, and tried to open her door. It opened about half an inch, and then stuck. She closed it and tried again.
It jammed again.
She tried again.
It jammed.
Again.
Jammed.
Again.
Jammed.
Again.
Jammed.
She started to panic. They had done something to her door. She couldn’t get out. She ran over to the window. She could get out the window, and go over the roof of the porch. She flung open the blinds, and stared.
A sheet of plywood.
Someone had covered her windows with plywood sheets. Instead of her view of the back yard and the woods, it was just this sheet of wood.
She slumped to the floor. She was trapped. She couldn’t get out.
There had to be a reason. There must be. Her family loved her, right? They wouldn’t just lock her up like an animal. Right?
That’s it! She was asleep when the doctor gave her mother the instructions. She had heard stories about some MORFS survivors panicking during the change when they saw the changes. That must be it. Since her mother had to leave her here all day, most of it alone, she must have persuaded her father to make sure she didn’t do anything silly like run away. That must be it. She just needed to calm down.
Calm, that was it. She needed to be calm. She needed to take her pills, and her energy pack, and just rest. It would all be OK. Mom had said so.
It was definitely time to take the pills, the aches were starting to come back. Stephanie quietly ate one of the energy packs, putting its wrapper on top of the wrapper for the first one. Then she went and retrieved her pillow from where she had punted it, and curled up, still naked, to sleep, downing her pill as she lay herself down.
“It’ll be OK,” she muttered to herself, “mom said it would be OK…”
The next time she woke, it was slowly, and warily. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, and peered around her room. It was still boarded up, and still locked. She was still a prisoner. And from the aches and pains in her body, still ill.
She looked down and took stock of her body, assessing the changes, and was concerned immediately. Her hands looked strange, and upon closer inspection, Stephanie thought that she could tell what the problem was. Her nails were longer, thicker, and slightly broader, as well as getting rather sharp.
She also noticed that she had several rough patches of skin on her body, all over the place, and she noticed the skin turning green around them. That got her curious, and she examined her breasts again. Other then apparently getting larger, perhaps a cup size, she noticed that the nipples and aureoles had turned dark green. That was strange. Was she going to turn all green like that lady on her dad’s old Star Trek episodes?
She shook her head, oblivious to the few strands of golden hair that sent floating about, and put it out of her mind. She needed to focus on getting through this, and getting well. She could worry about what she was turning into when she was done turning into it.
Quickly, and without looking anywhere but in front of her, she scampered into the bathroom and took care of the necessities. She tried to be quiet, but apparently she wasn’t sufficiently stealthy, because her brother’s voice came through the door. “Sis?” he called.
Slinking over to the door, she hissed back, a sudden need for secrecy coming over her, “I’m here, shorty.”
It was a sign of how concerned he was for her that he didn’t even acknowledge the barb. “Are you all right?” was all he said.
“I’ll live, I think. I’m more concerned about the locks and the wood,” she replied, trying to get the reason for her imprisonment.
Her brother sighed. “That was Dad. He said he didn’t want to risk an animal running around loose in the house. You know how he is.”
Stephanie did, indeed, know how he was. “I may be in trouble then. I think I’m turning green.”
There was a pause of interminable length from the door, and then a soft curse. “That’s not good, Steph.”
“I know.” It was all Stephanie could say, really. Her father had nothing good to say about the so-called ‘hybrids’, which in his mind meant anything that didn’t look very human. He would often hold forth, loudly, on how these things were ruining the world for good hard working people, and how only Senator Carmichael seemed to know how to fix things. This could be very bad.
She heard her brother push off from the door. “I need to go talk to mom, sis. She needs to know…”
Stephanie nodded and stood up. Sitting here worrying about it wouldn’t help. She needed to get on with this. One way or another.
She walked back into her bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at her arm. Stared at the green splotches spreading out over it. At the same green splotches spreading out over her new, perfect breasts.
It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. She finally gets her perfect, full breasts, and fate makes her green! It just wasn’t fair. She shook her head. Was what happened to Ashley any better. She shuddered. Living life as a boy, ugh, she couldn’t even imagine it. So she’d be green. She could live with green. It might give her an exotic look.
She grimaced as she took her pill, and wolfed down the energy pack. Yeah, exotic. She lay down and closed her eyes, the sedative combined with her own weariness putting her right back to sleep. Exotic. She might be able to live with that…
Slowly, the drugs wore off yet again. She was growing tired of this constant hazing and clarification of her reality. She would be very glad to see it go, once this was all over. She sat up in bed with a groan, and ran her hand through her hair.
And panicked.
Her hair came away in her hand in a huge clump, and she felt large bumps all over her scalp. She pulled down her hand and stared at the fistful of beautiful, long, luxurious, silken, golden, PERFECT hair.
HER HAIR!!!
She reached up with shimmering emerald arms and clasped at her lumpy, bumpy head. Her hair fell from her touch and came away in great clumps in her hands. She gasped and sobbed into the handfuls of her hair. It wasn’t fair.
She finally gets her breasts. Her due. Her fair share. The ONE flaw in her beauty was her bust. Or her lack of one, at any rate. She had perfect, clear skin, and she took the time and effort to make sure of it. She had a beautiful, perfect face, framed with the most beautiful and perfect blond hair there was. She was every boy’s dream, except for that one flaw. Now, at the moment that she has that one flaw fixed, she was losing everything else.
Her perfect skin, gone, replaced with scales and an inhuman green. She felt with her hands, and she knew, without even opening her eyes that the hideous scales had covered her face. Her perfect face, gone.
And now she was loosing her great pride, her true joy. Her hair was falling out. Her perfect, golden, luxurious hair. It was falling out, and her life was ruined. She just wanted it to be over.
All over.
All back to normal.
Everything normal again.
Everything over.
Over.
It would all be over. Soon. She just had to keep going. Right, mommy said it would be all right. She just had to be strong, and it would all be all right.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at her hair in her hands, sobbing. It was a while, she knew that. Slowly, she sat up, and slowly pulled the hair from her head. It came away easily, as if it was only barely attached. It just came away in her hand.
She gathered it up, and bundled it together on her vanity. Her vanity, how ironic. She was placing her vanity on her vanity. She started to giggle. Then she noticed the falsies laying next to the hair. She stopped giggling. She turned away, back to the bed, careful to not look at the mirror. She didn’t want to see herself. A tear made it’s way down her scaled cheek.
Her breasts were larger, she thought. She hefted the now rather large, and scaly, orbs. Perhaps a D cup. No, she thought, larger. DD. Perhaps a little larger. She laughed, and shook her head, disconcerted by not feeling her hair behind her. Still, even with the scales, they felt nice. Large nipples, full and firm. Just like she always dreamed of having. If only the price wasn’t quite so high.
She sighed, a sound that was as full of pleasure as regret, and took hold of herself. She slid her hands over herself. This would be much easier with a mirror. But she wouldn’t look at a mirror. Not yet. So her hands, and the bits of herself that she could see, would have to do.
The scales did seem to go everywhere. Her lips, her nipples, and her most private of areas, all seemed free of them. Those areas were a darker, deeper, forest green, as opposed to the brilliant iridescent emerald of her scales. She sighed again.
Exotic.
She certainly was that. She took her pills, ate her energy pack, and lay back with fatalistic resignation. Just get it over with. Just get it over with, so things can go back to normal
The next time she woke up things were different. It wasn’t anything obvious, or even that large. It was quite minor, all things considered. But in its implications, it was massive. And not the Titanic massive, more like Moon massive, or Jupiter massive. Stellar massive, perhaps even Black Hole massive.
She didn’t hurt.
It was that simple. But the implications were enormous. It meant that it was over. The nightmare, the horror, the terror, all of it, was done. Things had run their course, and it was over. MORFS was finished with her. She was done.
She didn’t get up right away. She just lay there, staring at the ceiling, fighting the fear. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to get up and see. Knowing what she knew, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to see the end result.
She lost track of time, lying there on the bed, staring at the ceiling. No daylight could seep past the boards over her windows, nor could her mother and brother enter her room, with the locks that sealed the doors.
If these things were her doing, it would have been far more comforting. As it was, they only made her more nervous, and isolated her from anything that might offer more then superficial comfort. So she lay there, staring, and tried not to think about anything at all.
Unfortunately for her, she was blessed, or in this case perhaps it was cursed, with an active, imaginative, curious mind. The longer she sat there, the more imaginative and horrifying the images she conjured up of what she looked like. It was, in it’s own way, a form of torture.
Eventually, she couldn’t stand it any more. She hauled herself upright, steadfastly ignoring everything, and staring straight ahead. She rose, and keeping her eyes and attention focused solely on the floor ahead of her, ignoring the swell of her emerald scaled breasts, and trudged slowly to her closet.
She had a full length mirror on the inside of her closet door; she stood there staring at the closed closet for a long time. She was working up the nerve to look at the horror she had become. Facing this thing was sapping her courage more then anything else she could even imagine. Finally, with a snarl at her own timidity, she wrenched open the closet door and opened her eyes and just looked.
The woman in the mirror was certainly striking. The physique was athletic and toned, if a bit top heavy with DD breasts, she figured. She was covered head to foot in fine green scales, save for her lips, nipples and immediate genitals. Those areas were a deep forest green skin. Her scales were a brilliant emerald green, with a faint tiger stripe pattern on her arms, legs and face. But the killer was her hair.
Or rather, the mass of scaled green tentacles that had replaced her hair. They sprouted from her head like hair, and crested up and back, falling down her back just like real hair. Until she saw them twitch a little. She gasped in shock.
Then she noticed her mouth and hand. She had claws. And fangs. It all looked quite… carnivorous. She looked herself over. Her eyes. She looked herself in the eye, and her eyes widened in surprise. Her poison green, snake slit eyes with no white. Just orbs of that iridescent green.
She was beautiful. She was a freak. She slumped to her knees and buried her face in her clawed hands and broke down in tears.
She was dimly aware of the rest of the day. She spent it wrapped in her blankets on the bed, shivering, trying to come to grips with what she was now, and failing miserably. She was aware, at the edge of her awareness, that her mother and father were having an argument.
In fact, she was almost drawn out of her stupor by the fact that her mother was actually yelling back at her father. At least she was, until the sound of the first blow echoed up the stairwell. After that, it sounded like all the other arguments. She tuned it out, and shivered in her bed.
Eventually, she nodded off.
Something roused her to awareness some time later. She woke to find her ‘hair’ curled up around her legs, like it was hugging her. She panicked mildly, and then the sound that she had heard broke its way into her consciousness. Someone was undoing the locks on her door. She scuttled backwards on her bed, covering herself in her sheet.
She heard argument outside her door, but she couldn’t follow the words. Then the door finally swung open, and her father strode into the room, followed by her mother. She caught the tail end of the conversation.
“It’s been four days, bitch, the little whore can finally be of some value,” her father roared, and advanced on her bed.
Her mother, with a split lip and black bruises over both eyes, scurried behind him. “Frank, please, she’s your daughter!” her mother cried, tears streaming from her blackened eyes.
He shoved her aside. “That’s right, slut, she’s mine, to do with as I see fit.” He grabbed Stephanie’s arm and hauled her up. “Get up, freak. Time I got some value from you, you slut.”
Stephanie wasn’t resisting, but she didn’t help, either. She was just dead weight. Not that it troubled her father. He just dragged her along. He dragged her down the stairs, and into the living room. As they moved into the room, Stephanie caught a glimpse of some men waiting in the entryway.
Her mother came running down the stairs, her brother beside her, and she screeched, “I WILL NOT LET YOU SELL MY DAUGHTER!”
The sense of the statement finally penetrated the haze of Stephanie’s mind, and she began to wake. Her father was going to sell her? What?
While she was shaking her head, trying to clear the muddle, her mother and brother attacked her father. In moments she was fighting back as well, scratching at him and her strange ‘hair’ rising up like a forest of serpents to ensnare him. Her mother and brother rained blows down on him with a strength brought by desperation.
It accomplished nothing. Her father flung her across the room with a shove, battered her brother with a blow to the gut and tossed him onto the stairs, and then started in on her mother. A blow to the head sent her sprawling, and then he kicked her in the ribs a few times, cursing her out as he did it.
Then he stalked over to Stephanie. She panicked, and her ‘hair’ rose up and wrapped around his arm, trying to hold him back, but he used the hold to haul her up, and grabbed her throat. He hissed into her face, “Stop struggling, freak, or I’ll kill the brat. You will do as you are told, or I will kill that little snot, and make you watch. Do you hear me?”
Stephanie froze at the threat, and nodded slowly. Her hair went limp and untwined itself from his arm, and she slumped her shoulders in defeat. Her father marched her over to the men by the door, and shoved her at them. They looked her up and down, nodded to each other, and handed her father an envelope.
He took it and looked inside. “This clears me with Big Jim, right?” One of the men, the one who looked in charge, nodded. Her father smiled and nodded. “Enjoy the merchandise, she’s all yours.”
They took her outside the house, and her father turned and kicked the door shut behind him. It slammed shut with a terrible finality. The men dragged her into an old SUV and tossed her in the back. She landed with a thump, and sprawled naked on the floor of the car. Slowly, she curled up in a ball, and began to sob as they drove away.
She didn’t know how long they drove, but eventually they stopped, and the men came and hauled her out of the back of the SUV. She struggled a little, but was rewarded with a blow to the head from the butt of a gun for her troubles. The blow dazed her, as she was brought inside a building and hauled to a small room with a small bed, more of a cot then anything else, and chain on the wall. The men threw her down on the bed and laced a collar on her neck and snapped it to the chain. Then they walked away, and closed the door.
Stephanie collapsed on the bed and sobbed.
She lost track of time again, but this time she didn’t fall asleep. Eventually, her hunger grew enough to distract her from even her grief, and she heard her stomach rumble. She simply sat and rocked, occasionally checking her chain and leash. She had discovered early on that the collar was locked, and she couldn’t get it off. Her leash let her move through most of the room, but she couldn’t quite make it to the door. And it wasn’t a very large room.
Eventually, the door opened, and one of her jailers put a tray with a sandwich and a soda on it on the ground, and closed the door behind her. She was so ravenous that she pounced on the food, the first real food she had seen since this nightmare started, with vengeance. In moments, it was gone.
With the food gone, she slumped back on the bed. A few minutes later, she began to feel a little odd. It concerned her for a bit, and then she just stopped caring. She began to rub herself a bit. She was feeling so horny. She couldn’t remember what she was so upset about. She just felt so good…
A few minutes later, after she had stopped caring enough to even masturbate, even though she was still obviously quite aroused, the door to her cell opened, and two men walked in.
She was dimly aware of their conversation. One of them was obviously a doctor or something, he was bragging about how effective his something or other was, and the other was nodding and making impressed noises. She knew that this was important, and that it meant something scary and bad, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care.
After a few minutes, they left, still taking. She just rocked there, on her little cot, and started singing a little to herself. Everything would be all right. Mommy said so.
Later, the door to her room opened again, and a new man came in. This one stared at her for a long time.
Then he grabbed her, and started to unzip his pants.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Ok, let me make something perfectly clear. I DO NOT APPROVE of the way this ended. Unfortunately, this is where it needed to end. I don’t like it. I spent three months obsessing over this ending, trying to find some better way to do this. I couldn’t find one. But don’t worry. While our poor Stephanie may well be in quite the dark place at the moment, help is on the way. I jump right in with Chapter Seven of the Tale of Jet and Quartz, which if not picking up quite exactly where this ends, comes in close enough to satisfy me, at any rate. So if you don’t like this ending, and I know I don’t, then think of this as less of an ending, and more of a really, really evil cliffhanger. I do apologize for that.
This is the story of the privileged sons of the wealthy and very conservative senior senator from California, and what happens to them after they catch MORFS.
For the rest of the story, and the universe, go to http://morfs.nowhere2go.org
And now, without further adieu, I bring you
Daniel crouched low, and squared his shoulders. Across the line, he saw Samuel setting himself on the other side of the line. Always the same, but mirrored. That was him and Sam. He listened to the count.
“Blue.
“Eighteen.
“Forty-one.
“Hut.
“Hut.
“Hut.” And the ball was snapped and the play was on. Daniel ran forward, juked left, dropped back, then blew past the man guarding him and snagged the ball out of the air as it sailed past, tucking it under his right arm in one practiced motion, and heading down the field. He angled himself towards the sidelines away from the defenders, beat them on the sidelines, and sailed into the end zone for an easy 6 points.
“BooYah!” He cried out and spiked the ball. Sam ran up and they smacked hands, rotating them around and clutching fingers.
“Nice run,” Sam complimented him, “You completely dusted Birdie on that one.”
“For a normal, you run way too damn fast,” complimented ‘Birdie’, who’s real name was Brian, but two years ago, he had gotten MORFS, and sprouted talons and big feathery wings. He looked like a clawed angel, really, but everyone called him Birdie, and he liked the joke. It was better than some of the other things he was called.
Sam saluted the bird-man, and then smiled, “Gotta hold up the human end of things. It’s a matter of pride. But I gotta say, ever since Cheets left, we haven’t really had anyone really fast on the team.”
Dan had to nod, as the rest of the team broke up, the informal touch game being over. “Yeah, he really knew how to run. Taught us a thing or two, actually. For an animal, he was rather smart.” Brian winced at the casual insult, but neither Sam nor Dan noticed. “Look, Birds, we gotta split. If we’re seen hanging out with you guys, father’ll flip. Luck with State. See you at the Rose Bowl!” Dan waved as they left, heading back to Sam’s car. It was an odd day of the month, so it was Sam’s turn to drive.
Samuel and Daniel Carmichael were the twin sons of Senator Michael Carmichael. Rich, and powerful, their father was also the head of the movement against giving any sort of protection against the so called Hybridist Discrimination. He saw it as nothing more than simple nature. It was no more wrong to treat a cat as less then a human then one of these things. His son’s weren’t so sure about that, playing football on the level that they did, but their father was their father. It had been impressed on their young minds, that if one of their friends had changed into something that didn’t look human, then to honorable society, they weren’t. And real humans didn’t associate with things that weren’t. So Sam and Dan didn’t hang around with the football team outside of ‘official’ practices, like this little touch football game. It irritated them, and it wasn’t their friends’ fault that they weren’t really human, but they had to keep their image clean. It mattered to their dad, and his career.
Sam stretched, and cracked his neck as he drove home. “Damn, Mike clocked me good on that last one. I’m feeling sore all over.”
Dan grimaced. “I know. If I feel this sore after a little game like this, we’re gonna tank at Duke. Maybe we’re just outa shape cuz of graduation.”
Sam grunted at that, as he drove up the hill to their house. The Carmichael’s lived in a large house, painted white, on spacious grounds overlooking the city of Salicia, just up the coast from San Francisco. The overlook of the cove was brilliant from the balconies on the south side, and the house was visible from the entire south side of the city. It was only fitting for the home of such a powerful and important family. Or so their father always said. Personally, the twins both thought that it was a little pretentious. They both tended to spend as much time away from the house as possible, preferably with the football team, in meetings, or at study groups with the cheerleading squad. They were very entertaining, were those study groups.
Both were feeling like crap as they walked from the garage up to the house. Their legs were dragging against the ground as they walked into the grand entryway of their house. The main hall was designed to awe and intimidate visitors with the power and influence of those who dwelt here. It was airy and spacious, all done in white, with marble floors and columns, and statuary placed artistically about the room. It faced north, so that sun fell through the windows, lighting the hall during daylight hours. Even in the daytime, it always seemed cold in there. And today it seemed even colder. The boys’ father was there.
Michael Carmichael was a large and imposing man, though not quite as large as his sons. At just under six feet, with a large frame, and an imposing figure, he had a face that looked carved out of granite, and iron gray hair that he kept cut short and slicked back. Eyes the color of granite bored into his sons as he stared at them. “You look like something the cat dragged in. Letting those animals on the football team beat up on you again? Get into your rooms and rest. If you’re really hurt, call Dr. Higgins and have him stop by. I need to go. They need me in Washington. Some bleeding heart activists are trying to pass a law stopping people from discriminating against animals. What nonsense. An animal is an animal, and we’re people, aren’t we boys. My blood breeds true. Breeds pure.” And with that, he stalked out the door, without even looking back.
Sam and Dan had snapped to attention as soon as they had noticed their father, and once he left, the both let out a sigh of relief. Then they both looked at each other and paled, Sam running for the bathroom, and Dan for the kitchen, and soon the sound or retching could be heard echoing through the empty house.
Two hours later, two very sore, very nauseous, very tired young men were sitting on the couch in their living room, while an old man in corduroy pants and a flannel shirt with a bushy white beard tisk’ed into his little gismo. Dr. Higgins had just taken blood samples from both of the boys, and combined with the other symptoms he was seeing, he had only one diagnosis. “MORFS. Don’t know how you got it, most likely from hanging out with all those animals that join the football team. Disgusting sport since they allowed the animals to play. Don’t know why you boys keep it up.” He shook his head, and wrote out a prescription. Well, here, send someone down to the store for these, and it’ll get you through this right fast. I’ll call your father with the diagnosis when I get home, and let him know that his sons are going to get gifts. Don’t worry, your father’s blood breed’s true, you’ll be fine. Soon you’ll be going into politics yourself.” With that he walked briskly out the door, and the two of them were left sitting there.
Sam looked over at his twin, and looked at him. “Diane?”
Dan looked pained. Diane Smith was the head cheerleader, and the real reason that the cheerleaders still associated with the football team, despite pressure from several direction to have nothing to do with them. She was completely normal, but her little brother had caught MORFS two years ago, and now she had a little sister. This had apparently skipped the notice of the local prude patrol, and as such, she was one of the few people who they could trust to keep this low key. She knew what their father was like, and sympathized. He got up and staggered over to the table and grabbed his eCom, and hit the speed dial for Diane’s number.
Diane’s clear voice rang out into the room, making both Sam and Dan wince, “Hola?”
“Diane?” Dan asked, “Are you somewhere private?”
“Dan?” She queried back, “You sound like hell. Yeah, I’m in my car, I just finished dropping Lilly off at dance class.”
“Cool, you want to do me and Sam a favor?”
“What kind of favor?”
“Pick up a prescription scrip and fill it for me. Then bring the crap back here.”
“You guys sick?”
“MORFS.”
“Oh, crap, good luck. I hope it doesn’t show. I’ll be there in 5.” There was a click as she hung up the phone on her end.
Dan staggered over to the couch and flopped down next to Sam. “You get to go open the door.” Sam just groaned at him, and leaned over to pick up the scrip. Sam stared at the scrip, and then grunted as an idea occurred to him. He sat up and reached into his pockets, then dropped both the keys and the scrip on the table. He closed his eyes, then opened them as the doorbell rang, a low, sonorous, mournful tone. He got up and staggered over to the security panel on the wall.
Pressing the intercom button for the front gate, he croaked, “Diane?”
The wall answered, “Dan?”
“No, Sam, I’m buzzing you in, go round to the patio on the left, I’ll open the door. Stay away from the front of the house.” Sam buzzed the front gate, then sagged against the wall. A minute later, Diane walked around the corner, and he staggered over and opened the French doors out onto the patio to let her in.
He walked over to the couch, and Dan handed him the scrip and keys, which he promptly gave to Diane.
She looked at him, puzzled. “What are these for?”
Sam gave her his best ‘I feel like crap’ expression, and explained, “Medicine, and so that someone can look in on us now and again.”
Dan spoke up from the couch, “And don’t worry about security, I’m turning it off just as soon as I get the energy.”
She raised an eyebrow, “Wont that just alert the security people?”
“It will alert father, and he doesn't care,” Dan rasped up from the couch, then collapsed into a coughing fit. When he could speak again, he explained, “Just so long as the house is intact and clean when he returns, we can do whatever we want. The only reason we even have the security system is that the bodyguards insisted, when he got elected.
Sam picked up the explanation. “He’s convinced that his righteousness will protect him. That God is on his side.”
Diane gagged, “Ugh, I feel for you. Hopefully, you just get a power and some cosmetic improvements. Or at least something internal. I’ll get your pills and the captain crunch bars. You guys still sleep in the same place?”
Sam nodded, as he saw her out into the night. “Yup, wing’s still the same. We even managed to get him to promise not to renovate the place while we’re gone. See you in a bit.” He went to kiss her on the cheek, then winced, and waved as she left.
Dan watched her go, and then whistled, “Damn, she still has a nice ass.”
Sam only grinned. “And other things besides. She’s a very friendly date.”
“I remember. Almost makes me wish she was still cruising for men. Does make me envy Brian. Why she chose to take up with the bird man though…”
“Because, according to her, ‘He acts like an angel, and has the good fortune to look like one, literally.’ I’d wager he took her flying.”
“That or some kinky stuff in bed. Or both. I’d better go shut down security, or I’ll forget, be right back.” Dan heaved himself into a standing position, and slowly walked out into the rest of the mansion, heading to their father’s study. Thankfully, it was in the central section, on the first floor, so it wasn’t a long walk. Sometimes the mansion was so large it could take several minutes to get from one place to another. For not the first time, Dan cursed his father’s sense of self-importance, and ego. Opening the double doors, he sat down at his father’s computer, and deactivated the screensaver.
He let out a low whistle as he looked at the screen. His father has left his account logged in. The house had a state of the art system. You needed to be logged in on this terminal to control the security system, but from his father’s account, he could see his personal files. He hesitated for only a moment, then quickly started going through the private files. He found a lot of political files, quite a bit of personal e-mails between various people, not all of which looked quite legitimate, and dossiers on pertinent people. There was a great deal of stuff here, some of it looking quite useful, but he didn’t have the time or energy to look through it all now. Acting quickly, he opened a remote link to his personal tablet, sitting upstairs in his room. His tablet was off the network, though he could interface with the network with it, and had in fact left it connected. Entering his passwords and passing through his biometrics, he opened a file transfer, and began copying all the private folders, to go through later at his leisure. Then he noticed two of the dossiers, marked ‘Lucile Carmichael’ and ‘Sarah Carmichael.’ His mother and sister. Curiosity roused his energy, and he opened Sarah’s file. What he read there turned his blood to ice. He turned and retched into the wastepaper basket next to the desk. With fingers trembling with fear, he hit print, and the file started spooling out of the printer across the office. Quickly, and with growing fear, he looked at his mother’s file. It was much the same, and he printed it too. Sam needed to see this. They had to talk about this.
Before he left, he quickly pulled up the security control panel, and turned off the security system for the entire complex, with a timer set to reactivate it in one week. Then he grabbed the sheaf of papers out of the printer tray and walked back to Sam and his suite. As he walked in, he closed the door behind himself, and dropped the stack of papers, with his sister’s face on the top page, and said, “We need to talk.”
Sam stared at the papers in front of him, and at the very pretty young woman whose picture was on the top page. She was a young girl, of about 15, with long iridescent purple hair, and cat slit violet eyes. Her hair was tucked behind her pointed ears, and she was smiling, showing elongated canines. His sister, apparently after MORFS. But according to their father, their sister had been a creature of wanton debauchery and violence, who had run off when their mother left. She had never had MORFS. Dan and he had come home from boarding school to find that both his mother and sister were gone, and they were going to a new school next year, because they were moving to a new city. They had always trusted what their father had told them, that he had caught their mother cheating on him, and when confronted, she had run off, and that Sarah had run off after her, following her mother into debauchery and sin. But the caption under the picture was dated 3 months before the divorce, right after they left for their last term. This didn’t make any sense. Sam looked across the table at Dan, who was sitting slumped into the other sofa, looking afraid.
“Read it. I found those on father’s computer. He left his personal account logged on. They were right there. His personal files on our sister and mother. Read. Find out what really happened.”
Sam read. Then he put down the papers and stared at Dan, disbelief warring with fear on his face. “If he could do this to her…”
Dan nodded. “We may be in deep shit. There’s no telling…”
They just stat there, staring at each other. There were still sitting there in shock, when Diane and Brian walked in, 15 minutes later.
Diane looked at them as she walked in, and was immediately concerned. “Guys, what’s wrong?”
Dan and Sam both just gestured at the stack of papers. Brian looked at the top one, and whistled. “She’s hot, who… Oh crap, is this who I think it is? You never told me you had a sister. What happened to her…”
Dan snarled at him. “She got MORFS. When she was 15. Got a hair color change, some really hard nails, slightly pointy ears, and cat eyes. No real powers to mention. Just modestly enhanced strength and reflexes, like any other hybrid. Not even a tail. And he threw her out, her and mom, for being impure.”
Sam punched the table. “He didn’t believe that she was really his. He thought that because she didn’t look completely human that mom had cheated on him, that she had been unfaithful. He divorced her, and threw them both out. They got nothing. Not a cent. She was only 15. She didn’t do anything wrong. She just caught MORFS. And no way in hell was mom unfaithful. He’s fucking insane. I can’t believe this… She’s our sister. His daughter. He raised her for 15 years. How could he do that?”
Dan laughed. Diane and Brian just stood there, shocked. Dan sneered at the ceiling. “You’ve heard him. His blood breed’s true. It’s just not possible for the great Senator Michael Carmichael to have offspring that isn’t as sterling and pure as he is. So, obviously, mom was cheating on him. Perfect reasoning, for father. Perfectly insane.”
Diane stuttered, “So, then, what, what, what if you guys get, like, gills or something?”
Brian looked concerned. He had run into hybridist discrimination before. His mom was a hybrid, so he knew what to expect, and to be honest he was used to it. But the idea of his family not standing beside him after MORFS… “He’d disown you because of what MORFS does to you?”
Sam and Dan shrugged. Dan nodded to Sam, and Sam leaned his head back. “When we were younger, I would have said yes. But now, I don’t know. He’s gotten so much more unpredictable. It’s this hybrid rights movement. They’re trying to make discrimination due to MORFS reaction just as illegal as race or gender discrimination, and he can’t stand it. It’s directly opposed to his position, and if it passes, it’ll mean that his position is unpopular, which, to him, means he would have to admit he was wrong.”
Dan groaned again. “And father can never be wrong. It’s not possible. He’s never wrong. It’s always someone else’s fault. Never him, oh no, never him. Crap.”
Diane blanched, and then softly set down the bag she was holding. “Here’re the pills and the energy packs. Me and Brian’ll crash on the couch, so that there’s someone sentient in the house in case a fire breaks out or something. You guys just, just, oh hell.”
Brian just bowed his head, and then looked at them. “Best to get it over with, whatever comes. We’ll be here when it’s over.”
Dan nodded, and turned the bag over, spilling the pill bottles and energy packs out onto the table. He grabbed one of the bottles, half of the energy packs, and hauled himself to his feet. “For once, I agree with Birdie, let’s get this over with. Whatever happens, happens, and we’ll just have to deal with the results.” So saying, he headed up the stairs to the bedrooms on the second floor.
Sam slowly stood, after his brother has left, and began gathering up the rest of the pills and energy packs. Turning to go, he gave a few bits of information to Diana and Brian, “Kitchen’s through there, bathroom’s there, closet has spare blankets. We appreciate this, guys. And whatever you do, don’t answer the phone. It may be father, and we don’t want that.”
As he slowly walked up the stairs, Brian and Diane looked at each other, then sat down and began to read the dossiers on the Carmichael women.
Upstairs, Dan was waiting for Sam at the top of the stairs. He looked at Sam, and seemed to come to some sort of decision. “Sam, can we make a deal? No looking at mirrors till this is done. And we try to avoid each other.”
Sam shook his head. “Bad idea. I want to be able to come to terms with whatever happens as it happens. Avoiding each other is fine, but I know I’m not going to be able to avoid at least a cursory glance at myself every time I get up.”
Dan shrugged. “All right, it seemed like a good idea, but I see your point. But yeah, no offense man, but I really don’t want to see what’s happening to you till I find out what happened to me. No offense.”
Sam shrugged. “None taken. As it happens I know exactly how you feel.” He waved, and headed off to the left, to his room. “Luck, man.”
“You too, bro,” Dan whispered, and turned down the hall to his room. It would be the last time he saw his brother.
Dan and Sam had their rooms at the end of the west wing of the house. Sam’s room faced north, and Dan’s faced south, with a corridor connecting them. They shared a bathroom, and the corridor had several closets with towels, spare sheets, and assorted miscellany that an individual finds necessary from time to time. There was also a hallway into the rest of the house, and stairs down into their private living room, where they had left Diane and Brian. Dan entered his bedroom and turned on the light. The twins’ rooms were both the same, only Sam had different stuff in his. There was a large bed, the dresser and walk in closet, a small table and several chairs, a nightstand, with a reading light, and a large desk, with his tablet sitting in the charger. The tablet had enough battery life to keep running for a day or two, but if he kept it in the charger, it bypassed the batteries once they were full, allowing him to keep it running all the time. He walked over and checked the file transfer, and finding it done, moved all the files into a secure directory, and password protected it. Then, even if someone got into his computer, they would have to get past that to find those files. He walked over to the bed, and placed the pills on the nightstand, then walked into the bathroom to get some water.
The bathroom was large, containing a large tub, an equally large shower, and a pair of sinks and toilets. Everything was done in marble, and there was even a sound system installed in the shower and bath. Dan grabbed a glass off of the sink, and filled it with tap water (There was a filter built into the faucet, of course) and nodded at his reflection, then walked back to his room. He stared out over the bluff, at the cove below, thinking about the future, and sighed. “God, if you’re out there, keep things safe. Keep my twin safe. Keep my sister safe. Please.” Dan had faith. For him, and for Sam, god wasn’t just an abstract concept. He wasn’t like his father, believing that he was god’s chosen advocate. He knew that was arrogance, and led to insanity. He knew better then to assume he knew god’s purpose or intentions. He just followed His teachings, and lived as honorable a life as he could. “Please, let father see his error. Let him find humility again. Let us find our mother and sister, and be a family again.”
He shook his head. Enough. Time to find out what MORFS had in store for him.
He unwrapped one of the energy bars and wolfed it down, then followed it with one of the pills, washing it all down with the glass of water. Quickly stripping out of clothes, he slipped on the gym shorts he slept in, and collapsed into bed, just a moment after the medicine kicked in, and he knew no more.
Dan stirred slowly, his aching body forcing itself into his awareness. He groaned and moved to wipe his hair from his face. Then he started, and stared at his hand, and the hair in it. He had kept his hair cut short, in his father’s idea of a masculine young man’s haircut. Now it was shoulder length, and looking pale. He had had light brown hair, but now it was a light blond. And that wasn’t all, he hands were looking strange. They were smaller, with thinner fingers, and his nails were longer. His hand looked like a girl’s hand. Then he heard someone clear their throat, and he looked up. Brian was sitting there, looking at him, and looking chagrined.
Dan coughed, looked down at himself, and then looked up. “Not good man. I’m fucking shrinking.”
Brian shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. You don’t look shorter, just, less muscular, thinner. Girlish.”
“Fuck.”
Brian shrugged. “It’s too early to make any assumptions, but yeah, I agree with you. I read about what your father did. The details. You and Sam are in trouble.”
Dan grunted and swung himself out of bed, then stared at his legs. They were long, thin, and extremely feminine. He couldn’t see any real muscle on them. He cursed softly. “Yeah,” he agreed, “We are definitely in trouble.
“I’m gonna go brush my teeth, wash my face, shave, and get some water. My tablet’s there, I’ll log you in, and give you access to what I downloaded off of my father’s system when I found the stuff on mom and Sarah.”
Brian nodded, and then frowned. “You may want to look in the mirror before you decide to shave, man.”
Dan’s hand shot to his chin, and he groaned at what he found there. Or rather, what he didn’t find there. His usual night’s growth of beard was noticeably missing. There was only light peach fuzz, like he hadn’t experienced since he was 13. He cursed again. “Definitely not good.”
Brian had nothing to say to this, so he handed Dan the tablet and waited as Dan logged him into a guest account and gave him access to the protected folders. Brian accepted the tablet with grace, and nodded at him, then left the room with a final comment, “Hang in there, friend.”
Dan just nodded at the closed door, then went over and listened at the washroom door. He heard nothing, so he opened the door and walked into the bathroom and looked at the mirror. He groaned again at the reflection that greeted him. He had lost all his muscle tone, over his entire body. His waist had shrunk even more then that, causing his shorts to droop low on his hips. He looked like little boy, he thought, if little boys were six feet tall. Odd, how he seemed to have lost height in the torso, only to make it up in the legs. The proportions seemed off, and he thought about them for a minute, trying to figure it out, then shrugged, and quickly brushed his teeth and washed his face, deciding that Brian had been right, there was really no point in shaving now. Then he filled his glass with water, walked back to his room, ate his power bar, energy pack he corrected himself, took his pills with a feeling of depression, and sank into dreamless unconsciousness.
The next time he woke, he immediately knew something had happened, because he was covered in sweat. At least he thought it was sweat, and he felt like something was pinching his back. He heard someone moving into the room, and looked up to find Brian there looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. Dan blinked owlishly at him. He looked really worried.
Dan sat up, feeling really odd as he did so, and said, “Ok, spit it out, what’s wrong.” Then frowned at the sound of his own voice. “Oh shit,” he gasped, totally shocked. His voice had sounded higher, squeakier. Almost girlish. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Brian looked at him, and said in a very low voice, “Its worse.”
Dan just stared at him.
”Your back, Dan.”
Dan reached around, and gasped in surprise. He felt something growing out of his back. Like a giant ridge, and then he noticed his arms. His arm hair was gone. “Oh, god.” Dan felt like he was about to cry.
Brian walked over to the bathroom door, and listened, then looked in. “Sam’s done. I recommend you go and shower yourself off, you were sweating like you were in a sauna, and I’ll change your sheets and such.”
Dan looked at him in shock. “Thanks man. I’ll owe you one, after this.”
Brian shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve read your father’s files. I know what kind of pressure you were under. The fact that you guys were even speaking to me is all the proof I need you’re not like him. Just don’t make any more animal cracks.”
Dan shook his head. Thinking was too hard right now. “I’m sorry, Brian, for everything.”
Brian shook his head. “Go, shower, finish this, then we’ll talk. When you’re capable of thinking again.”
Dan just nodded, and did as he was told. Going into the bathroom, he found that the shower had been used recently, and he nodded to himself. Sam’s going through this too, he thought. He regretted not being able to be there for his brother, or his sister, but he had his own troubles. His skin suddenly felt exceptionally slimy, and he hurried into the shower. He showered quickly, washing what felt like miles of hair, and getting his body as clean as he could. He had two ridges pushing up out of his back, under his shoulder blades, and he seemed to have lost all of his body hair, except for right between his legs. And even there, he only had a thin triangle, and it had turned chalk white. So had the hair on his head, and, he suspected, his eyebrows as well.
The biggest shock came when he was toweling himself off after he was done. He got a good look at himself in the mirror over the sink. He almost screamed. He looked like a girl. The only thing about him that said otherwise was his junk between his legs, and he swore that it looked smaller. “Oh fucking hell,” he cursed in his higher, girlish he realized, voice, “No way.” He put his shorts back on, noticing that they were really fucking tight in the back and hips. Yet another girlish thing. He firmly put it out of his mind. He suspected at least one thing that MORFS was trying to do to him, and he didn’t like it at all. Feeling like a man heading to his own execution, he went back into his bedroom.
Brian was waiting for him, and looking sympathetic. “It’ll work out, Dan. Just get through this. And, um, a suggestion? Sleep on your side this time. If I’m right, it’ll be a hell of a lot less painful when you wake up.”
Dan just nodded as he ate his energy pack, and downed his pill. Then he crawled into bed and curled up on his side. The last thing he heard was Brian, whispering, as if to himself, “I’ll be here for you man, no matter what happens.”
When he woke again, he immediately noticed something very different. His back felt soaked. He sat up quickly in alarm, and felt something flail behind him.
“Don’t look,” a voice called out from the door, “trust me, and don’t look. Just stand up, and walk over to me.
It was Brian, and Dan decided that whatever had happened to him, he had best just trust him. He had been through this, and right now, Dan didn’t really trust his own brain. Brian walked over, and picked something up off the bed. It was several towels, soaked with something that Dan guessed wasn’t sweat. He felt something twitching behind him, and before he could consider it, ruthlessly pushed the concept away, focusing on the wall in front of him. Deliberately not thinking about his body. At all.
Brian came over and looked him in the eye. “Are you calm?”
Dan nodded
“Are you ready for this?”
Dan nodded again.
“Try to stay calm.” Brian reached around his shoulder, and Dan felt something grab a part of him he couldn’t immediately identify, and suddenly a white, leathery bat wing was pulled into his vision. His eyes snapped wide, and he swiveled his head to look behind him, his hands coming up to grab the wing. Brian stepped back as Dan wrapped his new wings around himself, and ran his hands over their smooth, leathery surface.
“I have wings,” Dan whispered, “Oh my god, I have wings.” Then he noticed his hands. The nails had turned chalk white, like his hair, and had gotten much longer. Even worse, there were splotches of white on his skin the same color. He took a hand and turned it over, staring at it. It looked so much like a woman’s hand. “What am I becoming?”
“Something different,” was Brian’s only response. “Definitely something different. Just so you know, there are hollows forming in your back, and I think those wings are going to fold up inside them.”
“Wonderful, absolutely wonderful.” Brian was torn between horror and amazement. “Do you think I’ll be able to fly?”
Brian laughed. “Trust you to think about that, now. Yes I think you will be. Spread ‘em”
Dan was lost for a minute, unsure of exactly how to spread his wings, then he just relaxed, and did it, and felt his wings stretch open.
Brian whistled. “Probably, you can glide. Maybe you can fly. I’m not sure.” He looked sheepish, “the only reason I can fly is because of a power I have. That’s all it lets me do though.”
Dan shrugged, “I don’t really care much. But, wow, I am so screwed when dad finds out about this.”
Brian grimaced, “I don’t think that wings are the end of your problems, Dan.”
“I know, I’ve got other changes to worry about. Let me go into the bathroom and check me out, brush my teeth, clean my face, dry off my back.” Dan grimaced, “What, did these things come packed in, ooze? Never mind, I don’t want to know,” he responded, seeing the look on Brian’s face, “I’m just glad you had the towels there.” He tucked his wings behind him and moved into the bathroom. What he saw in the mirror there stunned him.
Staring back at him was a woman, or perhaps a particularly tall young girl. He didn’t have much in the way of breasts, nothing more than some swelling under enlarged nipples, but they were developing, and he had a perfect hourglass figure with smooth, hairless skin. Even his face was feminine, looking like the face of an innocent young woman. Then he noticed the rest. His nipples had turned white, like his hair and nails, and there were patches of white spreading out on his skin. He reached up and touched one nipple, gasping at the sensation, and quickly drew his hand away. Then a thought occurred to him, and he gasped in panic.
He reached down and drew his shorts down, both certain and terrified of what he would see. He was not surprised, nor pleased, when he saw what was between his legs. It looked like his privates has shriveled up and clung to his body. He could barely see his penis, and his balls were scrunched up, and looked prepubescent. He sighed, and pulled his shorts back up. Shaking his head, he finished up, and went to relieve himself. He found he had to sit to piss, and sighed, thinking that the way these changes were progressing, he had better get used to it. He did his business, then pulled up his shorts and left.
When he walked back in, Brian was gone, and he began to eat an energy pack while thinking about what was happening to him. He was obviously turning female, and from what he could see, he wasn’t going to look very human. He sighed, took the pills, and lay down on his side, and let the restful blackness wash over him and take his worries away.
Dan woke slowly, coming out of his drug induced sleep gradually, and sitting up, still feeling sore and nauseous. He looked down, wondering what new changes he was waking up to He noticed one right away, or perhaps, he thought, that should be two. Two large, white breasts adorned his chest. Well, thinking on it, they really weren’t that large, only C cups, but still, they were on his chest. Then he thought, wait, was he still a he? He jammed his hand into his pants, and pulled them up to look. From what he could see, he couldn’t really call himself a man anymore, but he wasn’t quite a female yet either. Pale and pasty white, yes, female, no.
He sighed, and levered himself out of bed, and looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was 4 in the morning. He sighed. No wonder Brian wasn’t here. Well, everybody needs some sleep. He shrugged, got out of bed. He needed to go to the bathroom, and then he would take his medicine and go back to sleep. Hopefully this would be over soon.
He headed over to the mirror as soon as he got in, and got the shock of his life. A beautiful woman stared back at him from the mirror. She was stunning. She was sexy. She was flawless. She was white. His face was beautiful, but had no color whatsoever. It was a pale, uniform white, like chalk. His skin shone softly, being slightly reflective, and looked strange. The biggest shock were his eyes, they were the same featureless white as the rest of his body. It was eerie. He looked like a statue. A living breathing statue, with long white hair, pert breasts, and a beautiful face. He sighed.
Then he noticed that he couldn’t see his wings. He turned around, and craned his now slightly longer neck to try to see his back in the mirror. What he saw there amazed him. His wings were folded up on his back, seemingly under his skin, at least partially. It looked like they were going inside his back. It was amazing. If this kept going, they were going to be completely hidden. He tested them, stretching them out the way he did yesterday. They worked perfectly. He smiled. If he had to be some sort of inhuman, freakish woman, at least he could fly.
He walked back to his room, and heard Sam walk into the bathroom after he left. He was tempted to turn around and look, but remembered his promise. He walked over and ate the energy pack, took the pills, and his last thought as he lay down was a hope that MORFS would just hurry up and get this over with.
He got his wish. The next time he woke, it was to a refreshing afternoon, with no aches, pain, or nausea. He felt both relief and unease as he looked himself over, and made a note. It was definitely herself now. Dan was most emphatically female. Her breasts had ballooned while she slept, and her plumbing seemed to have finished. She stood up and stripped off her shorts, sitting on the bed to peer over her now very large breasts. The irrelevant thought drifted through her mind that perhaps the virus had heard her thought about how her breasts were only average, and taken exception. Then she looked at her new sex. Everything looked in order, and as she separated the lips for a closer look, she noted that everything felt in order too. Yes, indeed, she was just like all her old girlfriends down there. Wasn’t this just a prime joke? Ah well, she thought, no use complaining. MORFS is MORFS. Nothing you can do but lump it and move on. Just how, exactly, she was going to do that, she had no idea, but hey, at least she knew she was female. That’s a plus. She sniffed. Definitely needed a shower, 4 days with no shower equaled a stinky Dan. Needed a new name too, as she most definitely did not look like a Dan anymore. Off to the bathroom she went.
As Dan opened the door from her room into the bathroom, she noticed movement at the other door. She quickly hid behind the door and called out, “Sam?”
“Dan?” a melodious and female voice, exactly like hers floated back.
“Yeah.”
“Your voice…”
“Yours too.”
“I really got the works, you know.”
“I don’t know what you got, but I’m not exactly looking too normal over here myself. Or male.”
“On three.”
“Three,” and so saying Dan stepped into the room, and found herself facing a mirror image of herself, only black. Jet black, without blemish or variation, her mouth hanging open to reveal that even her teeth and mouth interior were black.
Dan stood there, his mouth hanging open for a moment, the said, in a low voice, “Sam?”
The ebony beauty seemed to recover. She blinked a few times, and Dan noted that her eyes were solid black, much like Dan’s own, only
inverted. “Dan?” the beautiful woman whispered.
“Yeah. We got it good, huh?”
“Oh yeah. Did we ever.”
Dan moved over to the tub, which was easily large enough for two to bathe in at once, and turned it on. “I don’t know about you, but after that, I need a bath. Join me?”
Dan got the impression that Sam was blushing, even though there was no visible change in her expression, “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’m a little too attracted to you right now. Maybe once I get it through to my new parts that you’re my brother, or is it sister, gha this is confusing.”
Dan laughed, “Yeah, this sort of thing kicks grammar’s ass.”
Sam laughed at that too, and then grinned. “Well, you can take a nice luxurious bath, if you like. I’m taking the pulsating shower head.” And Dan threw a loofa at her.
Sam waited until Dan’s bath had filled, both of them just staring at the other, drinking in the sight of their beauty. They both realized that, even if they were female, their sexual attractions were still very much intact. As Dan slipped into her steaming bath, sighing as the hot water covered her, she commented to Sam, “I guess we’re lezzies now, eh?”
Sam grunted, and then said, “I wouldn’t be so sure. Take a moment to think about what someone like oh, Mike, could do to all these wonderful new parts.”
Dan did, then blushed at the surge of lust that hit her at the thought. “Damn, but I was getting wet just staring at you?”
“My guess is that physically, we’re capable, just sorta as people, of attraction either way, and something in biology does the rest. Whatever it is, for us, doesn't seem to care. We’ve got the female mating urge, but we’ve also got our old male views of the female body, and just how sexy it is. Makes us sorta bi I’d guess. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with Mr. Shower Massage!” She laughed and hopped into their shower, turning it on.
For a few minutes, both of them cleaned themselves in silence, then Sam began to moan in the shower, and Dan called out, “You still sore?”
Sam moaned back, “Oh, no, oh, mmmm, not sore. Mmmmm”
Vivid thoughts of what she was doing to make her moan like that flashed through her mind, and Dan began to rub her own breasts, eliciting similar moans from between her pearly lips. As the two of them continued, their moans seemed to feed each other, and soon Dan was fingering herself, and then she was shaking, her pussy spasming and her body jerking as she came. It was mild, but still intense, and she sighed, and sank into the water as she listened to her sister have a similar experience in the shower. Then she grabbed the soap, and began the process of actually getting herself clean.
When they were done, about half an hour later, and toweling themselves off, Dan laughed at Sam’s attempts to dry herself. She kept rubbing the towel over her new skin, and wincing. Dan got out, and grabbed a dry towel, and began to pat herself dry. She smirked at her sister, “Didn’t you ever watch your girlfriend dry herself after a shower. Pat, don’t rub. It’s easier on the skin.”
Sam shot him a look, somewhere between irritation and gratitude. “How did you figure that out?”
“Susan and I used to take showers together, and afterwards, we’d towel each other off. She told me how to towel her off, and I figured that it would be a useful piece of information, especially now that we find ourselves female.” Dan shrugged. It was a useful piece of information, and to think, they got that from some foreplay him and one of his old girlfriends had indulged in. You find useful information in the strangest places.
Sam looked at Dan and raised one delicately arched black eyebrow, “Clothes?”
Dan just shrugged. “Sweats. We’re about the same height, get something that’ll stretch over the hips, ass and boobs, and we should be good.”
Then Sam looked odd, and said, “Did you get wings too?”
“Damn straight I did.” Dan grinned at the thought. “The fact that I think I can fly now is all that’s keeping me optimistic.”
Sam grinned back. “Hell yes. God the sight, me with those black wings spread out… We gotta show each other, right?” Sam grinned. “My room?”
It took no further discussion. They walked into Sam’s room, and the two of them stood a few paces apart, and then, seemingly without communication, spread their wings simultaneously.
Dan thought Sam looked amazing. This stunningly sexy woman, colored solid black, with these great bat wings spreading from her shoulders. Her sister was one sexy chick.
“You are one sexy woman.”
Both of them said it at the exact same time, and then they both fell into laughter, their wings curling about them.
“Damn, we are too much alike. Do you think we got the same powers?” Sam asked.
“No, no I don’t think so. MORFS isn’t that predictable. I think it’s actually fairly astonishing that we turned out as close as we did.” Sam sobered, thinking about powers, and their sister.
Sam read the expression on her face, and sobered as well. “Enough games then,” she said, “its’ time to get to work. We need to figure out just what we can do, and what we’re going to tell father.”
Dan nodded, then walked over to the closet, and pulled out his two biggest sweat suits. He tossed one to Sam. “Put that on, and we really need new names. Samuel just doesn’t fit you any more.”
Sam caught it and nodded. “Yeah, your really not much of a Daniel anymore yourself.”
In moments, they were dressed, with their wings once more concealed, and they headed downstairs.
There really isn't a lot to say here. I stew the pot some, some repercussions unfold, and in general, things progress logically. If you don't kill me for this clifhanger, there are a few later that you will kill me over, I'm sure. So let's get to it then, eh?
(Oh, and if you want more of this universe, or for some strange reason want to write in it, the complete universe, and the submission rules, are at: http://morfs.nowhere2go.org so I hope you have fun)
Dan and Sam walked down into their living room, and into a storm. A storm of confetti. There was a big sign up in the rafters, saying ‘WELCOME BACK!’ and Brian and Diane were standing on either side of the door with noisemakers, blowing them into the twins’ ears. If they could have, they would have blushed.
“Um, thanks?” Sam muttered, feeling suddenly and unaccountably self-conscious. If she could have blushed, she would have.
Dan just shrugged, and hit a button on the wall, making a small robot vacuum roll out of its little house and start vacuuming up the confetti. Walking to the couch, she said, “If you’re throwing us a party, there had better be cake. Lots and lots of cake.” And she plopped her chalky white ass onto the couch.
Diane looked surprised. “What, no griping about the indignity of being female? Dave griped for weeks when MORFS turned her into Lilly. No self-indulgent moping?” She looked genuinely disappointed.
Sam clapped her on the shoulder and laughed, a fine, clear laugh, like but very unlike her old deep chuckle. “Would you rather we acted like twelve-year olds? What’s the point? It happened. We’re female, we’ll deal. It’s not like we’re crippled or anything.”
Brian laughed at that, and the three of them joined Dan on the couch, with Sam sitting next to her, and Brian and Diane sitting across from them on the other couch. “So,” Brian asked, “You don’t mind at all that you’ve joined the fairer sex.”
Dan and Sam both shrugged. “Yeah I mind,” Dan said, “But what’s the point of getting mad. It’s not going to accomplish anything. There’s no-one to blame, and nothing to be done. We’re female now, and there’s no changing it. So I live with it, half the world is female, more or less, and they get along fine.”
Sam chimed in, “It’s a bit of a shock, and it’ll take some getting used to, sure as hell, but we’ll cope. Just don’t try to put me in a dress.”
Dan laughed suddenly, “It doesn’t hurt that we’re hot.”
Sam joined her sister’s laugh. “Point. Hella point.”
Dan looked around suddenly, “Cake, we were promised cake.”
Diane laughed and got up, “I’ll go get the cake.”
Brian looked at them. “You’re both handling this remarkably well, all things considered.”
Sam suddenly looked serious, and concern colored her voice, “No, we’re joking about the parts we can live with.”
Brian suddenly looked grim. “So you don’t have to think about the consequences.”
Dan nodded, equally grim, “Yup, so stop bringing it up, and let’s laugh about boobs. Compared to the rest of it, boobs are neato.” She grinned, but everyone knew it was a mask.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then Diane burst into the room with the cake. It was a full sheet cake, molded to look like a naked woman, with icing half black, half white. Its proportions were exaggerated, and it was remarkably lifelike, in an obscene pose with legs spread, and hands reaching into the crotch. There were two candles sticking right out of the woman’s vagina, burning merrily. Diane rolled the cart she had the cake on up to the girls, and presented it with a flourish. “Ta. Da. Your cake, madams.” Everyone present broke out into laughter.
Dan grinned, “How did you manage this?”
Sam was laughing, “That is so neat. I call black boob.”
Dan laughed, “Then I get the white one.”
Brian chimed in, “And since I’m the only one here without one, I call the pussy. It’s got cream filling.” He grinned lewdly.
Everyone broke into laughter, and before wax got onto the cake, Dan blew out the candles. They all got their cake, and true enough the crotch was cream filled. But much to the delight of the twins, so were the breasts. They carved up the pastry woman, and began to consume their treat. There was some time spent in indulgent and contented silence, as they all forgot the weighty and pressing matters hanging over their heads, and instead, had boob cake. There are times when, no matter what’s happening, you can always smile, and they all discovered that boob cake was one of them.
Finally, the cake was gone, most of it having gone into the ravenous mouths of the twins, who discovered that they had a nearly unlimited appetite. “Damn,” whispered Diane, “where are you two putting it all,” as Sam split what was left of the cake into two pieces and gave one of the two to Dan.
Dan accepted her cake and shrugged, “Our boobs?” This elicited another laugh from those assembled, and then she continued more seriously, “No, I think it’s an effect of our new bodies. I’m not actually hungry, not really, but I never seem to get really full. I think I’m finally getting close though.”
Brian shook his head, “No, I think it’s a reaction to finally being off of the medication. Your bodies need things that aren’t energy packs. I remember being ravenous after I woke up when I finished MORFS.” He got a thoughtful look on his face, “but you may have an accelerated metabolism. That would account for why you’re so hungry.”
“You mean we’re always going to be starving?” Sam looked shocked.
Brian shook his head, “No, I just think you’re going to have appetites as bad as your old ones. Don’t go buying girly sized meals if you want more. Eat what fills you up.”
“Which,“ Diane chimed in, “was lots of naked chick, in this case.”
They all laughed. Then Dan got a serous look on her face. “Alright, enough goofing around. We’ve got problems, and it’s time to deal with them.”
Suddenly, everyone’s expression sobered. Sam nodded, “Right. So, where do we start?”
Diane sat down, and looked troubled. “I don’t know. There’s so much to deal with…”
Dan nodded. “Right. We’ve got so much looming over our heads that it looks unsolvable. But there’s a simple way to deal with this. Old programming trick. Take the problem, and break it into smaller problems, then break those into smaller problems, until we have everything down to its components. Then we work on those, and the bigger ones take care of themselves.”
Diane and Sam looked unconvinced, but Brian nodded. “Yeah, that’s a really good idea. Let’s break this down. We’re going to need paper.”
“And a pen,” Dan nodded. “Look in the top drawer for writing crap, and how about this for paper.” And so saying, she grabbed the crumb covered piece of parchment that the cake had been resting on and whipped it out, sending crumbs flying, and the little robo-vac scurrying to clean them all up. She spread the paper out onto the low table between the two couches, and took the large marker from Brian as he returned. In large bold letters she wrote ‘PROBLEM’ on the top of the page. “All right,” she looked at the other three, her gaze locking on each of them in turn, “What, exactly, are our problems.”
Sam immediately chimed in. “Father.” Dan wrote ‘FATHER’ down, and drew a line connecting it to problem.
Brian pointed out, “Your gender,” and Dan wrote down ‘FEMALE’ on the sheet.
Diane looked at them and said, “The way you look”, and ‘APPERANCE’ went down on the sheet.
Sam looked at her hands, “Our powers, if we have any.” This time it was ‘POWERS?’ that went on the paper.
Dan looked around, “Anything else? No? Alright, that’s about what I got too, so good. Now, we break this down.” She looked down onto the paper. “Right now, I can think of two of these that we really aren’t going to be able to do anything about. Powers and appearance. We aren’t going to be able to change the way we look, and trying to hide it isn’t going to work. We’ll just have to run with it. I mean, how do you hide a six foot tall white woman. Aside from as statuary, which I am unwilling to imitate for long.” This last in response to a look from Sam, as a preemptive strike.
Sam looked glum, “I don’t know, cover up as much as possible, and wear sunglasses? Hooded sweatshirts?”
Dan looked thoughtful at that, but then Diane broke in.
“Why hide it at all. I mean, it’s obvious you can’t, so don’t. Flaunt it. Wear the shades, but do it with a haircut, some flashy clothes, the right wardrobe. You know, play it up. You could look so, so, cool!”
Dan looked stunned, and Sam outraged. Sam stepped in before she could start describing outfits. “Because we’re freaks! That’s why. We look like freaks. Who would associate with us, looking like this?”
Brian cut her off at that, “Me for one.” He looked at them. “Do you two really think you look like freaks?”
Sam looked ashamed, and Dan took a deep breath. “Well, yeah, I mean, we hardly look normal. Look at us. Yeah we look good, but people don’t look like us. We don’t look like people, we look like things.”
Diane and Brian shared a look. “Look at me you two,” Diane was insistent. “You are people. Don’t ever doubt that. Everyone who sees you will see two beautiful and exotic women, and not two things. Everyone who’s worth knowing anyways.”
Brian looked at them, “Do you think I’m not a person?”
Diane looked shocked, and Sam looked ashamed. Dan spoke up, “Well, no, of course not. But we’re exceptions, we know you. Most people, seeing a guy on the street, who looked like you, would think animal, right?”
Brian looked sad, and Diane shocked. “NO!” Diane screeched. “People like your FATHER maybe, but most people would see someone who had MORFS and got wings. Just as much a person as me. Or you.” She looked at them pointedly.
“Guys, you have to realize that the vast majority of people aren’t like your father,” Brian’s voice was calm and insistent. “You need to trust me on this. Most people are decent, upright human beings, irregardless of what they look like. Most people have had at least one family member go through MORFS, and they’re understanding. They know that no matter what you look like, you’re still human under it all. The imbeciles like your father are just a very small, extraordinarily loud minority.”
Dan took a deep breath. “Ok, so, what, we just ignore what we look like?”
Sam’s only comment was a snort that spoke volumes
Diane shook her head. “Don’t ignore how you look. Take pride in it. You two are unique, you know. I’ve never heard of anyone reacting to MORFS quite this way. Especially not twins having the reaction you did. Take pride in it, don’t be ashamed of it.”
Sam shook her head. “I know what you’re saying. It’s just that thinking like that feels so wrong. It’s just…” she trailed off in frustration.
Brian looked at them, sudden pity in his expression. “It’s just that everything you’ve ever been told has said just the opposite. I understand. I really do. You just have to keep reminding yourselves that it’s not wrong to look like you do.”
Dan nodded, and looked at her hand. “Right. I hear you. We can do this. It’s just a confidence thing. Like going out on the field. Can’t let a big scary opposing team scare you into never taking the field.”
Sam nodded, looking glum. “Yeah, but can we take it slow?”
Diane looked at them. “Sure, you have a lot to get used to; just don’t try to hide what you are. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Dan sighed. “Right, so, solution for that, two parts then. One, acceptance, and two, self confidence. Simple enough. In theory. The practice isn’t going to be fun.”
Sam groaned, and nodded her agreement, “Damn right. Next?”
“Next up,” Dan commented, “is Powers.”
Diane and Brian shared a look, then Brian spoke up, “Might as well tell them.”
Diane looked away, and the twins looked confused. Brian pressed her, “They trusted us Diane, the least you can do is trust them back.”
Diane looked ashamed and embarrassed. She looked at the twins, and softly spoke, “This doesn’t leave this room, all right?”
Both twins nodded.
Diane looked up, and slowly started to talk. “I’ve lied to you guys. I got MORFS when I was 10. It gave me a power, two actually.” Now that she was going, she started to speed up, becoming more animated. “Only one of them really matters here. I’m a telepath, but it’s really minor. I have to be touching you, and there’s a lot of empathy mixed in. Actually, I’m mostly an empath; the telepathy is the ride along.” She looked really sheepish.
Dan nodded, puzzled, and then smiled slowly as something occurred to him. “No wonder you’re such a nympho. You use your empathy in bed. You know exactly how your partner’s doing. Manipulate things a little?”
Diane blushed. “A little, yeah. So?”
Sam laughed. “So how did Brian find out about this?”
Diane looked down, and Brian was the one who answered. “I saw her using her other power.”
Dan raised one delicately arched pale white eyebrow, and Diane blushed furiously. “I’m a shape shifter.” She sighed, and glared at Brian. “Here, I’ll relax and go back to what I look like when I’m not using it.” Suddenly, Diane rippled, and suddenly there was a woman with a dark tan, and violet hair, eyes, and lips. She had the same basic body shape as Diane, save for a slightly smaller chest. She spoke with Diane’s voice. “This is what I really look like. Happy now?” She glared at Brian.
Dan was confused. “You look good. Exotic, and not quite as busty, but still, good. Why hide it?”
Diane looked irritated, and closed her eyes for a moment. “Because it’s so rare. I like how I look, and yeah, I go out looking like this a lot. Usually when I want to just be alone.”
Sam butted in, “Or when you wanted a little commitment free sex?”
Diane laughed. “Or that, yeah. The thing is, after a while, once the awe wears off, it becomes a novelty act. I got a lot of flack for it. ‘Diane, turn your hair blue’ ‘Diane, make your breasts bigger’ ‘Diane, turn into a black chick’ or any number of variations on that one. I also got a lot of people trying to use it as an excuse. You know, when the quarterback cheats on his girlfriend and gets caught, and runs, only to claim that it wasn’t really him, he was home doing homework, it must have been that shape shifter chick impersonating him. Caused a lot of problems. So when we moved here, I picked a perfectly normal shape,” she returned to her usual shape, “this one, and pretended that I had never gotten MORFS. Now the point of this entire exercise was that, since I’m a telepath, sort of, I can get into your heads and look, see what powers you have. I’ve done it before.”
Sam looked at her, then, sounding exasperated, “So what’s taking you so long? Get over here.”
Diane laughed, and got up and walked over to Dan, “For that, you go second.” She placed her hand on Dan’s forehead, and closed her eyes. “Oh, god, fuck.” She dropped her hand and staggered back. “Damn, that wasn’t fun.”
Dan looked at her, and moved to help her, and she jerked away. “No, don’t touch me. I don’t want to get sucked back in.” Dan looked hurt, and she smiled. “It’s nothing personal, it’s just you’ve got so much fear and concern running around in your head right now it’s actually painful. Don’t worry. Well, you definitely have powers. Strong as hell, too. Some kind of elementalisim, energy projection, but I’ve never seen the type before. Safe to say, you throw energy blasts, but I wouldn’t try it now. I have no idea just how you go about it, or what exactly you throw, or what it takes its power from. You’ve got another two powers that I can’t quite figure out. If I had to guess, it’s a variable physical enhancement, and some sort of damage shield.” She turned to Sam.
“Now for you.”
Sam took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Diane moved over, and gritting her teeth, she placed her hand on Sam’s forehead. She grimaced, then gasped, and drew her hand back as if it had been burned. “Fuck. Thanks for trying though.” She shook her head. “You’re both easier and harder. Your sister, I know sorta what she can do, but have no idea of the specifics. You, I know exactly what two of your abilities can do. It’s the big one that I can’t identify. You’ve got a huge ass power, and I have no idea what it does. It’s a biggie, and it’s really rare, is all I can say. The other two are simple. You’re a minor precognitive, and an illusionist. The precognition is only a few seconds in advance, a minute at most, but that’s still really fucking handy. Especially on the football field. Your other power is illusions, rather strong, but only visual, auditory, and olfactory. And only within line of sight. And no, I don’t know how you use them.
“The problem is,” Diane said as she sat down again, next to Brian, “that activating a power is rather individual. I can tell you what you can do, and if I’ve seen someone with it before even how well, but I can’t tell you how to turn it on. Sorry. Oh, and I noticed something else while I was in your heads. You’re linked to each other. It’s subconscious, but if you can figure it out and develop the ability, it might be handy. And, before I forget, you also both have the same power as Brian, only a lot less. You won’t be able to fly with more than maybe a suitcase or two.”
Dan raised an eyebrow at that, “And Birdie can carry?”
Brian chuckled, “A tent, with 2 sleeping bags, a person, and all their assorted camping supplies. We had had an interesting weekend.”
Sam shook her head, “I don’t wanna know. So powers are dealt with. We just gotta figure out how to use ‘em, then practice. Easy peasy. Next?”
Dan wrote down ‘Activation’ and ‘Control’ under powers, and circled them. Then looked at the list. “Next is father, not that we can control this one any. We should at least discuss it though.”
Everyone present suddenly sobered. Sam looked up. “Can’t we do this one last?”
Dan shook her head. “No, actually, I think that this one goes here. We need to plan out some things here first. And we should have those plans made before we start doing anything.”
Sam nodded, glumly, and Brian and Diane looked grim. Diane spoke up, “So, what, exactly is your father likely to do?”
Dan grimaced, “Best case scenario? Suddenly realize that his views on MORFS victims were horrendously wrong, and accept us with open arms. That’s about as likely as me and Sam getting our dicks back.”
“Worst case scenario,” Sam mused, “is that he sees us, denies blood ties, cuts us off from everything and goes mad with rage and attempts to take away everything, going after anyone who even attempts to aid us, in an unthinking paroxysm of blind hate and prejudice. He may even attempt to murder us.”
Diane and Brian blanched. “Surely not,” Brian gasped, only to be stopped by Dan’s shaking head.
“It’s more likely than you think, and a hell of a lot more likely than our best case scenario.”
Sam looked grim, then brightened. “But still, I think it’s fairly unlikely that he’ll go that far. What’s almost definite is that he’ll disown us.”
Dan nodded soberly, “Yeah, no way in hell is he keeping two ‘inhuman freaks’ around where they might contaminate his image. As if we were something foul that might rub off onto him.” Brian and Diane noted with satisfaction the disgust in Dan’s voice. She may know how her father thinks, but she doesn’t really believe it herself. That meant that eventually she would accept herself, sooner or later.
Brian looked thoughtful. “What would disowning you entail, exactly?”
Sam looked up, and thought. “Taking away our access to the family accounts, stopping our stipend, and killing the trust funds. And kicking us out of the house, obviously.”
Brian nodded, seeing a way out of this. “Obviously. But if his response is going to be to cut you off from everything you may one day inherit, and wipe you from the family, why not take some of it before he gets the chance. You have personal accounts, right?”
Dan brightened. “Oh, brilliant. I can go you one better. I can empty every account we have unlimited access to, it’s all our money anyway, and place it in new accounts linked to our biometrics. New accounts that father doesn't know about. And I’ll muddy the waters so thoroughly that only a team of professional accountants would be able to follow it, and even then, it wouldn’t hold up in court.”
Sam and Brian were grinning, and Diane was looking at Dan in shock. “How?” was the only thing she said.
Dan grinned even more broadly. “I’ve taken half a dozen online accounting courses. Finance is one of my hobbies. I’ve tripled what funds Sam and I were given, playing the markets. It’ll take me a few hours to set it all up, but then… Voila, we’re rich. And it’s completely independent of father; he won’t even be able to trace it. This is brilliant. Brian you’re a genius.”
Sam looked troubled suddenly. “But what about Duke?”
Brian snorted. “What about Duke? It’s no issue. You go. You’ve got a full scholarship. And with your powers, you should be able to tear it up. What’s to worry about?”
“Well, will they still take us?”
“Sure. You may need to prove that you can still play. But that law your father is pressing against is going to pass, even if he does bury it in other legislation so it never makes the news. The suits in admin will know about it if they’re worth their salaries, and if they aren’t, you sue them. Simple, and nothing to worry about.”
“So, the steps are simple, ‘Hide the money’ and ‘Brace for impact’.” That’s what Dan said, and what she wrote. “So, there’s father. Put away like any other problem. Not so scary, eh?”
Sam laughed, feeling much relieved. They knew how to deal with father, and no matter what he did, they would be fine now. Diane and Brian looked relieved as well.
“So that only leaves one thing left to deal with,” Dan said, looking down at the piece of paper, “and boy is it a dozy. What do we do about the fact that we’re girls?” She shared a look with Sam, one of embarrassment and worry.
“Well,” commented Sam, “Why don’t we break this one down. It still seems rather monumental.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” drawled Diane, “You’ve definitely got some monumental chests.” Everyone erupted in laughter.
“You want a better look?” dared Sam, moving as if to pull up the top of her sweats.
“No, no, not now, you’ll give Birdie a nosebleed. Maybe later, if she’s nice, we’ll play a little,” Dan purred, putting a hand over Sam’s arm. Diane blushed furiously at the suggestion and stammered a disclaimer, and Brian was consumed with a coughing fit.
“I have seen breasts before you know,” was Brian’s comment when he had recovered the power of speech.
“Not like these you haven’t!” chimed both twins in unison, setting off another round of laughter.
“Ok, ok, enough with the jokes. Business people. We have to deal with this.” Dan was firm in her insistence. “Sam, I know this is uncomfortable, believe me I know. But we have to get a handle on this, and not just make stupid wisecracks about how hot we are.”
Sam nodded. “God, but I don’t want to. I just want to go on, joking around, and move on with my life.”
Diane smiled sympathetically, “That’s what we’re trying to do, believe it or not.”
Brian nodded. “Think about it. What are you going to call yourselves; Sam and Dan sure as hell don’t really match those bodies.”
Dan nodded. “Right, so names is one thing,” and she wrote down ‘Names’ on the sheet. “What else, Clothes?”
“Hell yes,” Diane exclaimed. “You can hardly wear those sweats for the rest of your lives. They’ll get stinky as hell.”
Sam nodded. “We may as well bite the bullet and get girls clothes. But no pink and no dresses.”
Dan nodded, and wrote down ‘Clothes’ on the paper, but Diane was shaking her head. “The pink I can agree with, especially given your coloring. But the no dresses? Not a chance in hell. You’re gonna get a skirt or two, and if you plan on going to any sort of formal event, a dress is gonna be it. No way in hell is anyone going to accept that a tux is formal attire for those bodies.
Sam looked irritated, as did Dan, but they both saw the logic in Diane’s point. Dan made notes under the ‘Clothes’ notation. ‘Pants’, ‘Skirts’, Blouse’, ‘Dresses’, and then he made a new entry, and labeled it ‘Underwear’ and put down ‘Panties’ and ‘Bras’.
Sam saw this and made a yelping noise, but then groaned and said, “Right, it’s the underwear designed for this body. No use fighting it.” Then she groaned again, and said, “You may as well put down pantyhose, stockings, socks, and shoes. We can’t go barefoot forever, and we may as well get used to heels. If we want to look hot, we’re gonna have to wear them.”
Dan gave her a funny look as she wrote her sister’s suggestions down, “Look hot? Since when do we want to look hot?”
Sam snorted. “Since I woke up and realized I was growing hooters. If I’m gonna be a chick, I wanna be a hot chick. Especially with this body. We’re gonna have to become just as confident in our gender as we are with our looks.”
Brian and Diane nodded, and Dan made a new entry under female, ‘Attitude’. Under it, she wrote down ‘Self-Confidence’ and then looked around, grinned sheepishly and wrote ‘Sexuality’. She looked around the table, soliciting suggestions.
“Mannerisms,” Brian suggested. “You don’t really act like girls. You act like guys. I mean, when you sat down earlier, Dan, you plopped there with your legs wide open. What girl sits like that unless she’s in the middle of a sex act? You don’t walk like a girl, you don’t talk like one and your little gestures scream ‘Guy!’ to anyone who watches you.”
Dan nodded, and ‘Mannerisms’ went down on the page. “Anything else?”
Negatives from around the table met her question.
“All right, then the first order of business is to decide new names.”
The four of them traded looks, stumped.
Brian raised his hand, and suggested, “Ebony and Ivory?”
“NO!” was the reply in chorus from the three women.
Dan looked thoughtful, “Well, it’s not such a bad idea, if horribly cliché. Having our names reflect our appearance might be nice. Might help us acclimate a little.”
Sam looked thoughtful, and then spoke up, “Well, I don’t really like Ebony.” She looked down at herself, and examined one of her hands, “But I do look like a gemstone. Hmmm, Onyx, Obsidian, Jet. Hmm. Jet. Hi, my name is Jet. I like it. What do you think?”
The other three nodded, and the general consensus was positive. Dan looked at her hand in turn. “Well, Ivory is out. Way to girly. Same for Pearl. Diamond just sounds pretentious. How about Quartz. Sound good?”
Everyone looked at her, and then looked around. Brian spoke up, “If you like, but expect me to just call you Q.”
Dan nodded. “So Quartz it is. Good.” Quartz looked around. “So now that that momentous event has been taken care of, what next?”
Jet looked at the sheet, “Hmm, clothes. Diane, do you think that you can help with that?”
Diane looked surprised, “Um, sure what did you have in mind.”
Jet laughed. “Well, you must know more about female clothing than we do. Hell, you prolly know more about chick duds then anyone else here, unless Birdie is a closet cross dresser.”
Brian snorted. “No, I don’t think so, statue girl.”
Diane looked the girls over, “I think I can actually do something with you two. But I need to go home and get some things. You think you can keep yourselves occupied?”
Quartz nodded. “Sure, I can start on the financials, and I’m sure that Sa… Jet can find something to do. Physical tests?”
Jet noticed the slip, but let it slide. The new names would take some getting used to. “Sure, it’ll be nice to know just where I stand on the fitness end of things. Brian, wanna spot me?”
Brian shrugged, “Sure, why not.”
Quartz nodded, and got up to head upstairs, snagging her tablet from the shelf as she went by. Diane got up and headed out the doors, heading out to get who knows what. Brian and Jet went down the stairs into the basement. The stairs were right next to the ones up to the second floor. They headed down into a large room with sanded wood floors, with paneled walls, and a great deal of exercise equipment scattered about. There was a large clear space in the middle of the room, with a rectangle painted around it, and there was a stack of gymnastic mats piled up in one corner. There was also a set of free weights, an electronic scale, and several different athletic machines, including a treadmill.
“First order of business, what do I weigh?” Jet was actually curious, she seemed to have lost a lot of weight, since her entire body was much leaner and thinner then before, with the notable exception of her chest, but she wasn’t so naíve as to assume that her breasts made up the weight. So she stepped on the scale, and then exclaimed in shock, “No fucking way!”
Brian looked over, and goggled at the readout. “Three hundred and eighty two? No fucking way. No godamed way. Let me on that thing.”
Jet stepped out of the way, and Brian stepped on. “Two ten. That’s right. So how the hell…” He was stunned. “Hold still, and spread your arms.” Jet silently complied. Brian grasped her about the waist, and attempted to lift. He had done this to Diane with ease, and Jet wasn’t that much bigger, yet he couldn’t budge Jet. She was simply too heavy. “What the hell. You weigh a ton.”
Jet just looked confused. “I haven’t noticed that I got heavier. What happened?”
Brian looked puzzled, and then got an idea. “Jet, how much could you bench, as Sam?”
Jet just shrugged, “About three twenty, why?”
Brian nodded, “Sounds about right, for someone who did as much lifting as you did. Lets see you do that now.”
Jet looked shocked. “Brian, I’ve lost all my muscle mass. Look at me, I used to have forearms the size of my biceps, and my biceps used to be the size my head is now. How the hell am I supposed to lift three twenty in this body?”
Brian looked at her and shrugged, “That’s while I’ll be spotting you. I want to test something.”
Jet shook her head, but walked over to the bench. She loaded up the bar and moved to get in position. Brian interrupted her. “Jet, did that seem hard?”
Jet paused, and then raised one obsidian brow, “No, actually, it was rather easy. Easier than I remember in fact. Huh.” She lay down and got under the bar, with Brian standing over her head, ready to spot. She grabbed the bar, and pushed up. The bar move with remarkable ease. It was an effort, but not much of one. Jet was amazed. “I wonder how many reps on this I can do. Lets find out.” She began bench pressing the weight, getting in fifteen reps before she had to stop. “Wow. One second.” She walked over to the wall and punched in the numbers. “According to that, my max press is about four seventy-five. Wow. That’s a hell of a lot better then I remember ever being.”
Brian was amazed. His max press was only three twenty, same as Sam’s was. That this lithe, gymnast looking girl could press that much amazed him. “Well,” he commented, “it looks like I was right.”
Jet turned and looked at him, “Huh?”
“Your density increased. Prolly just muscle and bone. Your tits look bouncy enough that I don’t think your fat density increased. You have more muscle in less space. Same with the bones. Makes ‘em harder to break. Most likely to keep up with the increased strength.”
Jet nodded. “Makes sense. Explains the weight. Wonderful. I’m just glad I wasn’t born female. It would have been hell to have weight concerns. I gotta get down to ninety pounds. My skeleton prolly weighs that much now.”
Brian laughed. “I can’t wait to see Diane’s reaction. Wow. Neat. I wonder if your flight power takes that into account.”
“Only one way to find out, and that’s to go flying. We’ll try it out front, tonight.”
“Why tonight?”
“Because sometime the day after tomorrow, the alarm system is going to come back up, and we have to be done by then. That means doing measurements now, clothes tomorrow, and settling in the next day. When that alarm system comes back up you have to be gone, father will call.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s his pattern, he will assume we had a party, and call to find out how it went. He only does it after he knows its over, so he doesn’t embarrass us. It’s his idea of being discrete.”
“Fun,” Brian commented. “Nicely predictable of him.”
“One of the few things he’s predictable about at all these days.” Jet shook her head. “Come on, let’s finish these tests, then go see if Quartz is done with the financials, and we’ll get her down here and compare.”
Upstairs, Quartz was lying naked on her bed, with half a dozen holographic displays floating in front of her. A small army of electronic gismos was arrayed before her in a semicircle, with her tablet humming away in the middle. She was fiddling with two of the little devices in front of her when she heard a knock from the door of her room.
“Come in, it’s open”
She heard a masculine gasp of surprise, and feminine chuckles, and Brian’s voice floated to her ears, “You could have warned me, Dan.”
She looked down; saw the luscious white mounds of her breasts pressed up beneath her on the mattress, and suddenly felt mildly embarrassed. Laughing at the unexpected discomfort of her visitor, she called out, “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before on Diane. And it’s Quartz now not Dan.”
She heard Jet’s musical laughter from the hall, and couldn’t catch what she said, as her attention was recaptured by the program she was working on. She got so involved that she didn’t hear someone walk up behind her, and was unaware of their presence till she felt a light blanket drape over her shoulders, covering her, and Jet called out from behind her, “It’s all right now Birdie, she’s covered.”
She looked up at the dark form of her sister, and shrugged. “I always work in my underwear when I get into serious programming. You know that.”
Jet laughed, “Yes I do, but Birdie didn’t. His reaction was entertaining.”
Brian chimed in, “Damn it girl, don’t you have any shame?”
Quarts laughed as she manipulated variables in her program and watched the results. “No, not really.” She had almost gotten this solved, she just needed to track down the last few errors and she would be done. “I’ve been fully female for about, what 6 conscious hours? Do you really expect automatic modesty? I’m busy, I’ll be embarrassed later.”
This program was a work of art. She had had several other programs that had done parts of what she wanted. Combining them, and then working up the parts she didn’t have and making them all jump through hoops was a relatively easy, if entertaining task. In moments, she found the problem and had it corrected, then ran one final test. It all worked. She set the tablet to test and compile the program into its final form, and looked up at her guests again. “There, done. Now what did you need?”
“Your help confirming a few suspicions. Need you to stand on a scale for us.” Jet was laughing, if not in actuality then in her tone and expression.
Brian was curious, however. “What was that you were working on?”
“That? Oh, that was just the automated program to slowly move all our cash into anonymous accounts, shuffle it around, and then deposit it into the new accounts I’ve set up. It does it all in very small transaction, in waves, over time, so that it doesn't set off alarms right away. It should take about two days to finish, and then all our money will be hidden away, and a bunch that isn’t really ours, but I got access to anyways. All told, it’s quite a bit of cash.”
“So,” Brian grinned, “You’re stealing your dad’s money. Isn’t that kind of illegal?”
“Well, its not so much stealing money from father as it is moving money he decided to give us somewhere where he can’t see it. But yes, he will probably see it as theft.” Quartz was smiling at the thought. Her opinion of her father was never very high, and had fallen into the cellar with the discovery of what he had done to their mother and sister. Besides which, the Carmichael estate had so much wealth floating around that taking what she felt her sister and she were due would barely cause a ripple.
Not that that would stop their father from being furious. She thought it likely that he would attempt to beggar them on general principle, and was glad that she had been able to prevent it. After this program had run for a few days, the only way to find this money would be with her tablet and the encryption key she had devised. She smiled at the thought. Then she remembered why she had an audience.
“So, Jet, what exactly did you need from me?”
Jet shrugged, “Nothing much, just to check your weight.”
Quartz was puzzled, but nodded, and moved to get up. Brian suddenly blushed, and scrambled to get out of the room. Jet and Quartz both looked at him, puzzled, and Brian called back from the door, “Don’t you have any modesty, woman?”
“When,” Quartz asked as she levered herself up and began putting on the discarded sweat suit, “would I have learned, in my long and sordid life, female modesty? I’ve only been functioning as a female for about half a day.”
Jet followed her as she walked out of the room and raised a pale brow at Brian, “Shall we go?”
Brian blushed furiously. “Doesn't that body bother you at all?”
“Jet, should we be bothered by this?”
“I don’t know Q, what do you think?”
“I think that this feels like my body. And it feels comfortable. Weird, but comfortable. Why should that bother me?”
“Because it means that you aren’t masculine enough?”
“Bah, since when do I care about looking masculine?”
Brian butted in at this point, “You may not care, but there are other people who will have, huh, issues with this. And not just the idiots like your dad. The sexuality nazi’s might give you grief and the guys on the football squad…”
Quartz looked amused. “Right, and if they do, I squish ‘em. You forget, I’m rich, that gives me a certain amount of power.”
Brian just raised an eyebrow, “And when some punk on the street walks by and makes a crack about how you look sexy, you know, like, ‘Nice rack, toots’ or ‘how bout you and me practice some horizontal mambo’ or something?”
Quartz and Jet both laughed. “You mean, like getting hit on,” Jet laughed.
“Simple, really,” Quartz gasped, while laughing. “I already had a line picked out. ‘You’re nice, sugar, but I like my date’s to have a bit more up top. Though you are pretty cute. Some nice double D cups and you’d be perfect.’ Something like that.”
“Something to note, Brian,” Jet filled in, “is that for all that we haven’t had these bodies for long, they feel very comfortable.”
“Most of the time, anyways,” Quartz interjected.
“We just feel like, even though we know that a week ago, our bodies looked radically different, the image I see in the mirror doesn't look wrong.”
“Well,” Quartz mused, “that’s not quite true. I get disoriented when I think about it. I know my body is different, radically so, but it all feels normal, but weird. Nothing feels out of place. It’s not nearly as bad as you’d think.”
Jet sneered, “Yeah, but the idea of getting all dolled up, makeup, bras and panties, dresses, ugh, that makes me want to puke. But it’s what the world expects to see, and I suspect that we’ll get used to that eventually too.”
They had reached the basement, and at Brian’s direction, Quartz got on the scale. “What the hell? Three hundred and eighty two? No fucking way. Double you tee eff mate?”
Jet grinned. “I’m the same. We think it’s a density thing. Go grab the bar and bench, I’ll spot.”
Quartz looked at the weights of the bar, “That’s how much, exactly?” She couldn’t actually see the weights; there were bags over the plates.
Jet smiled. “Don’t worry; I did it about 10 minutes ago, no problem.”
Quartz smiled nervously, “Right, then get your black ass over here and spot me.”
Jet did so, as Quartz took her position on the bench, and grunted softly, and picked up the bar, did a rep, then placed it back on the supports.
“That was fucking heavy! How much was that?” Quartz was curious, that must have been over three hundred. It was almost her max lift.
Jet simply tugged the ties on the bags and drew them off. “Four sixty.”
Quartz was flabbergasted. “What!” She had never even come close to that before. “How in the hell?”
Brian spoke up. “Best guess, is a muscle and bone density increase. That would increase your lift power and physical abilities. It also accounts for why things seem so, huh, normal to you two. You haven’t actually lost anything, really.” At the twins’ rather caustic looks, he amended, “Ability wise anyways. You’re still the same height; you have about the same physical abilities, at least within normal exertion ranges. So you don’t have any physical mismatches to confuse you. It’s an interesting phenomenon.”
Jet nodded. “Makes sense. I remember when I had my surgery, I was laid up for three months, after, and I lost a lot of my mobility. When I got on my feet again, I remember feeling so weak, so out of synch. It made me feel like I wasn’t even in my own body. This is like the opposite of that. Even though the body is radically different, when I tell my body to do X, it does X, just the way I wanted it to.”
Quartz nodded, “Rather than Y, which while remarkably like X is not what you intended to do.”
Jet ignored the sarcasm, and continued. “So, its like switching the paint job of a car. It looks radically different, cosmetically, but it still handles the same, so driving it doesn't change at all, except for the view over the hood.”
Quartz looked down, and hefted her breasts. “And what a hood we’ve got.”
Brian laughed at that one, and Jet shot her twin a look. “So,” Jet continued, “We should expect the most disconnect when doing things that we couldn’t do in our old bodies, or doing things in these bodies that our old ones could do better.”
Brian nodded, “But I don’t see that second option popping up much.”
Quartz nodded. “So, now that we’ve ascertained that we’re not closet transsexuals, how about we get dinner, I’m starving.”
Jet laughed. “Only if you cook.” Jet was decent cook, but Quartz had a real talent for matters culinary, and Jet usually found a reason for her twin to cook when their father was away. Usually by volunteering to do the dishes, after.
Quartz laughed. “Fine, if you want this woman in the kitchen, I’ll get. But you’re washing things this time, eh?”
Jet laughed, and started up the stairs. “Brian, are you done pondering your imponderables. You’re gonna miss Q’s cooking, and that’s a sin. Hurry your ass up.”
Brian laughed, and headed up the stairs after his friends, admiring the view as he did so.
Diane opened the patio doors and stepped into the living room of the Carmichael twins, and was immediately struck by two things. One was the smells coming from the kitchen, there was an absolutely divine aroma filling the house. The other was a box, falling on her head, off of the stack of things she was carrying. With an exclamation of pain, she stumbled forwards, dropping the remaining boxes into the waiting arms of Jet and Brian.
“Ya know, you could have taken two trips,” Jet scolded her.
“What is that smell?” was Diane’s very topical reply.
Brian laughed as he relieved her of most of her load, “Q’s cooking. She’s making some kind of stew, I think. She called it ‘Refrigerator Surprise’ and chased us out of the kitchen.”
Jet laughed, “It’s a potluck, sort of. She takes whatever she can assemble out of the fridge in the kitchen, and makes stew. It’s always interesting, because other than a few staples that we keep around for this kind of thing, exactly what’s in it is always a surprise.”
Diane laughed. “I just hope it’s edible.”
Jet laughed again. “You’ve never eaten Quartz’ cooking. It’s always good.”
“Now what is all this,” Brian asked, placing the last cardboard box on the table. There were four of them, all brown and unmarked.
Diane pointed to each of the boxes in turn. “That is my sizing supplies, and few things I use when doing designs. That is several nightgowns, bras, and panties, and they should fit you. That is one of my few excesses, a professional design device, and this has all the outfits on sale at the big chain stores programmed into it. It’s everything we’ll need to go on a buying trip without leaving the house.”
Jet looked both impressed and irritated. “Neat, I guess.” Her lack of enthusiasm for her new wardrobe was obvious.
Diane looked at her, “Look, Jet, you’ll be the one picking the wardrobe out. You won’t get anything you won’t like.”
Jet sighed. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate this Diane, it’s just, gha….”
Brian laughed, “Jet, don’t worry. You’ll look fine.”
Jet shrugged, “That’s what I’m kinda afraid of.”
Diane nodded, “Ah. Finally.”
“Huh?” Jet and Brian were both confused.
“Finally what?” Quartz’ voice floated over from the door. “And grub’s on.”
Jet promptly jumped up and darted out the door into the kitchen. Brian and Diane followed at a more sedate pace. As they passed, Quartz raised an eyebrow at Diane. Diane laughed, “Finally, a normal reaction from one of you two.” Quartz opened her mouth in an ‘ah’ expression. Then they moved into the kitchen to eat.
When then got in there, they were greeted by the sight of Jet sitting at the table, holding a fork and spoon, banging her hands on the table in a wordless cry for food. Quartz laughed and opened the pressure cooker to serve the stew. Everyone sat and stared as a lumpy, thick, red glop was deposited into their bowls. Jet grinned, and dug in. Quartz sat down and looked at Diane and Brian. “It’s not going to bite you.”
“Yeah,” Jet said around a mouthful of stew, “ish good.”
Brian and Diane looked at the stew dubiously, then looked at each other, and tried the stew. They looked shocked for a moment, and then dug in with obvious enthusiasm. There was no further conversation for the remainder of the meal, as all parties involved were using their mouths for a much worthier purpose.
About an hour later, the four of them were finished eating, and were sitting around the table in the living room, discussing what their plans for the evening were. Jet was sitting there, explaining her thoughts on the matter.
“As I see it,” she was saying, “We can go and test our wings tonight. And then,” she shuddered, “we can try on underwear.”
Diane grinned, “Why does having breasts not bother you guys, but having to wear a bra to hold them humiliates you somehow?”
Quartz laughed weakly, “Yeah, actually.”
Jet sighed, “It’s a masculine pride thing.”
Brian shook his head. “Are you still guys?”
Both twins looked chagrined.
Quartz looked up, “Well, no, but we still feel like it.”
“I suppose we’ll get used to it.” Jet moped.
“Yeah, you will.” Diane was suddenly serious. “Lilly did, it just took time. I’m not going to force you into frilly dresses and crap. It’s gonna be pants, shirts, that kind of crap. Relax, and enjoy it. Besides, tonight is going to be private, and stuff nobody will see anyways, unless you let them of course.”
Jet’s eyes widened at the implications, and Quartz just laughed, “I don’t see that happening any time soon.”
Brian coughed, feeling uncomfortable with the direction the discussion was heading. “So, before you females get too involved in discussing your love lives, how about we go and see if you two can actually fly.”
Jet nodded, suddenly all business. “Fine, up to my room then.”
Quartz nodded, and got up. Brian and Diane looked confused and followed a moment later. When they got there, Jet headed to the balcony and opened the doors out onto her balcony. Walking out, she started to take off her shirt, and said, “I hope you two don’t mind seeing me topless, but I need to stretch my wings.” So saying, she unfurled her wings from within her back, and then jumped off of the balcony into the evening. “Wahoo!”
She hurtled towards the ground for a moment, then her wings caught the air, and she swooped out over the grounds. With a cry, she flew out over the lawn, and arced up above the manor. She glided over the manor, banked, and then folded her wings, dropping down onto her balcony with a crunch, folding her wings inside her back again as she did so. She took her shirt back from Diane while Brian averted his eyes.
Jet was exultant. “Q, you have got to try this.”
Quartz was already pulling her shirt over her head, and Diane caught it as she headed out the doors and onto the patio at a run, unfurling her wings as she went. She whooped as she swooped over the grounds, and soared over the manor, making a full circuit of the house before flying up from under the balcony and dropping down onto it without so much as a thump. She was grinning from ear to ear as she pulled her shirt back on after re-folding her wings into her back.
Brian turned back to the three women, once both the twins had their shirts on again. “Satisfied girls?”
Quartz grinned back. “Very. That was so awesome.”
Brian grinned back. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Diane piped up, “Well, now that you’re done winging around, how about we get you sized, and try on some underwear, eh?”
Brian nodded, and moved to go downstairs. “I’ll excuse myself for this, thank you. Which box, Diane?”
“The first one is all I’ll need,” was her response. “Unpack the others in the living room; we’ll need them tomorrow morning.”
“Right,” Brian walked out of the room, calling as he went, “luck guys.”
Jet looked uncomfortable, and Quartz spoke up. “Alright Diane, what, exactly, are we doing here?”
Diane sat down on the bed. “We’re going to get your sizes, mostly.”
Jet walked over to the shelf that held her knickknacks, and started playing with a katana. “And that means what, exactly?”
Diane laughed again, “You taking off your clothes, me with some measuring tape, and you trying on bras. I’ve brought my sizing collection.”
Quartz leaned against the wall and laughed. “I forgot you’re an amateur fashion designer.”
Then there was a knock at the door, and Brian’s voice echoed from the other side, “Box outside, I’ll be downstairs, see you girls in the morning.”
Diane raised an eyebrow at Quartz, who happened to be standing near the door, and she sighed and opened the door, and dragged the box over to the bed, then opened it. “A little much?” The box was filled with bras, all white, bundled in plastic bags.
Diane bent over, and started taking out bundles of bra’s, and setting them on the beds. Then she got to the bottom, took out four packages of panties, and a tape measure. Then she looked at the twins, and raised an eyebrow, “Well, strip!”
The twins looked at her and broke out into laughter, then began to extricate themselves from their clothing.
Diane looked up at them, and motioned for them to stand in front of her. “Nice figures girls, very nice. You’re real man bait. Let’s see here… “She walked around Quartz, and reached under her breasts and drew the tape measure around. “Huh, thirty-six chest.” She reached up and measured across her breasts, and took another measurement, “F cups too, most likely. Nice rack. Waist,” as she measured the girls waist, “a twenty two, hips, thirty six again.” She took the tape measure away from the Quartz, and then went over to Jet and repeated the same measurements. “Well, girls, you have nearly perfect figures. I mean, there are porn stars who don’t have measurements this good. You really got worked over bad, or got really lucky, depending on how you look at it.”
Jet groaned, and Quartz grimaced, “Both.”
“Right, well,” Diane walked over and opened a package of grey panties, and handed one each to the twins, “Put these on and see how they fit.”
The panties were grey, and very plain. The twins looked at them dubiously, and then with identical expressions of resignation, slipped them on. They fit fine. The twins said so.
“Right, so, know we know what size panty you wear, I had gotten four, but we got it right on the first try. Now bras. You two are going to hate this. But since there are two of you, I can do this twice as fast. Each of these bags is a different bra, in both style and manufacture. We’re going to try on each and every one until we find your sizes for all of them. I fully expect you to be in the 36 band, F cup range, but we need to know. Basically, this is like trying on shoes.”
“Only on our chests,” Quartz commented.
“Well,” Jet sighed, “the sooner we start, the sooner we’re done.”
It did take a long time, and they both were heartily sick of the entire exercise by the time they were done, but it did accomplish one simple goal. By the time the twins were done, they no longer had any discomfort with wearing a bra, and had come to realize that it was both necessary, and comfortable. At least when the bra fit right. So they had no problem with helping Diane pick out their favorite styles, and were even grudgingly taking her advice on what styles they should select. When all was said and done, they had quite the list of bras, and a commitment from Diane to get them full wardrobe of female underwear. Quartz got her tablet from her room and Diane put in the order at several local stores, to be ready for pickup the next day.
“Alright, now that that’s done, time for all of us to crash. Tomorrow is going to be busy, and you two are going to need your sleep.”
Jet yawned, and Quartz looked tired, but asked, “What, all we’re doing tomorrow is picking out clothes, that’s not so hard.”
“You’ve never bought clothes as a female,” Diane laughed. “It can take forever, and we’re going to be getting you two a whole wardrobe. Now get some sleep.”
The twins decided that sleep sounded like a good idea, and Quartz headed into her room. Before she left, Diane handed her a silk garment, and told her to wear it. It was a black silk nightgown, barely long enough to reach below her crotch. She raised an eyebrow at it, but went along with it. She hadn’t even remembered she was wearing panties not briefs until just then, they had felt comfortable. They should, she realized, because they were designed for a body shaped like this. Just like the nightgown was. She shook her head, but put the nightgown on, and waked back to her room
Once she arrived there, she plugged her tablet into its charger, and cleaned up her peripherals from off her bed. Then she sat down and stared at her hands for a while. She felt her breasts through her nightgown. Her pale white skin was offset dramatically by the black of silk. She rather liked the effect. It emphasized her uniqueness. It made her feel nervous, but also confident. She was different, exotic. She made a conscious decision to like that fact. It was a good thing. She lay down and closed her eyes, curling up under her covers and falling into her first undrugged sleep as a woman. Her dreams were filled with flying.
Quartz woke to the sound of buzzing. The buzzing of her alarm clock to be exact. She rolled over and hit the off button, rolling herself out of bed, and felt the slip of silk against her skin. She sighed, and fingered the hem of her nightgown. She really liked it, and wasn’t sure if she liked that fact. Shaking her head, she decided that it didn’t matter. It felt nice, so she was going to keep wearing it. She hauled herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She had beaten Jet into wakefulness, so she had the shower to herself. She smiled slightly, and climbed in.
The water felt divine. She reveled as the spray from the showerhead pulsed over her chest and onto her breasts, sending shivers of pleasure through her. She smiled, and murmured to herself, “Mmmmm, this part of being a girl, I like.” She massaged herself, moaning as the sensations of her new body coursed over her.
Half an hour later, feeling very clean and very satisfied, she walked out of the shower and started to pat herself dry. She winced at her hair. Wet, it weighed a ton. She thought about drying it with the towel, but then noticed the box on the counter. Walking over, she had dark thoughts about just finding scissors and hacking it all off, but decided against it. Picking up the package, she found it was a brown cardboard box. Inside, she found two hairbrushes, a hairdryer, and a note. The note was short, it read, ‘Girls, I’ve noticed your hair, and provided you with a dryer for the hair, as well as some brushes. Brush the hair out, while hitting it with the dryer. You’ll catch on. Diane.’ She smiled, and set to work.
She was several minutes in when Jet walked in, looking ravishing in her white nightgown. Quartz said so. Jet just grumbled, “Wait till after shower,” and grouched over to the shower, stripped down and got in. Quartz smiled, and finished her hair. She had finally finished her hair when Jet got out. She just smiled at her sister, and gestured with the hairdryer. Jet shook her head, pretended to collapse under the weight of her hair, and then laughed. “I am so going to chop this all off.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Quartz responded. “You know full well that you look far too hot with it long to ever chop it off. Restraining it though…”
“Heh,” Jet laughed as she took the dryer from her sister, “Your right, of course. Maybe I should learn to braid it…”
Quartz laughed, “Sure, good idea. I’ll just get a scrunchie.” She headed back into her room.
A sarcastic voice followed her back into her bedroom. “You do that. Remember your panties.”
She laughed, and snagged the package of panties off her desk. She slipped a fresh one on, and snagged a new pair of sweats from her closet. Sliding herself into the sweatshirt, she winced as the materiel slid over her breasts. Much as it galled her, she needed a bra. Grimacing, she headed downstairs to get some breakfast. On her way, she poked her head into the bathroom, and noted how her sister was doing on her hair. She seemed to have just gotten it figured out. Smiling to herself, she headed down to the living room to see what the gruesome twosome had done during the night.
The first thing she noticed was the large imager sitting on the floor. The second was Diane and Brian curled up together on the sofa bed, with his wings around her. She was in her purple haired natural form. They were both also nude. “sheesh, get a room.” She walked around the sleeping pair and headed to the kitchen.
Several minutes later, a sleepy eyed, and clothed, Diane poked her head into the kitchen, wearing a ‘what smells so good’ expression, that was quickly followed by a “What smells so good” from her mouth.
“I’m calling it a Quartz special. It’s a cheddar, steak, Taylor ham, crumbled bacon, and egg omelet. A specialty of mine. I make it with eggs and whatever beef and pork products I can lay hands on. It’s good.”
Brian walked past Diane and into the table nook, “After that stew last night, I doubt you not.”
Diane sat down and raised an eyebrow, “Taylor ham?”
“A seasoned pork roll out of jersey, it’s this local thing that my mother was in love with, and me and Sam, crap, Jet,” she corrected herself, “got addicted to. The chef gets it shipped in for us. Handy thing, a staff.”
Brian laughed. “Yeah, wealth has its perks. So where is the night to your day?”
Quartz laughed, “When I came down before, she had just figured out how to dry her hair. Thank you for the gift, by the way.” She nodded at Diane, then suddenly turned her full attention to the pan, and began sliding around a large gooey mess, and moments later slid the entire mass onto a large platter. She took the platter over to the table, and then grabbed four plates from the cabinet above the sink, and set them down on the table. Everyone grabbed plates, and dished themselves up some of the gooey egg, cheese, and meat concoction. Jet joined them several minutes in, and for some time there was little conversation.
After things were settled, they were all sitting around the table relaxing in the afterglow of a good meal eaten in good company. Jet was lounging back, wiping her mouth, while Quartz asked, “So, what’s that gizmo in the living room.”
Brian and Jet also shot interested looks at Diane, who grinned, and explained, “It’s a toy I got from F.I.A. It’s a sizing and design imager. Useful for seeing how designs play out on a specific model. I can use it to check out how clothes look on your frame.”
Jet looked intrigued, and Quartz just laughed. “So we don’t have to humiliate ourselves by trying on eighty billion different things?”
Diane looked hurt, and Brian collapsed into laughter. Diane harrumphed, “You two are so not female.”
Jet laughed back, “My chest says otherwise.”
“Alright,” Quartz laughed, “let’s get this over with. How long is this going to take? Two, three hours?”
Diane looked stunned. “A full wardrobe, in three hours? Are you insane? This is going to take all day!”
The twins shared a look that was part horror, and part disbelief. Brian just sighed. “Right, so one full day of ordering stuff, and then me going and picking it up. Wonderful.”
Diane grinned, “Why how nice of you to volunteer. That reminds me, I ordered a bunch of stuff from Vickie’s and the local malls, could you go get them?”
Brian groaned, and slid away from the table. “Well the sooner I go, the sooner I get back.” He strolled out of the kitchen and out of the manor.
Quartz looked around. “Well, might as well get this over with.”
Jet got up, and with a bow that was both mocking and graceful, escorted the others into the living room.
Once they were seated on the couch, with the projector in front of them, Diane made an odd request. “You want me to do what?” Quartz’s voice was shocked.
“I want you to strip to your panties and stand with your arms out. What’s so difficult about this?”
Quartz sighed, and began to remove her sweatshirt. Jet just stared, and smirked at Diane. “Are you sure you don’t have lesbian leanings? I mean, this is the third time in two days you’re having one of us strip.”
Diane laughed. “I’m quite sure of my sexuality girls. Now stand still.” She picked up a imaging wand and started moving it up and down the pale woman. She covered every angle of Quartz, front and back. After several minutes, she plugged the rod into the base of the projector, and the device hummed to life. A white glow spread up from the projector on the floor, and then there was n image of Quartz, standing in her panties, with her arms out to the side, hanging there in midair. “There we go. Now, extend your wings, please.”
Quarts did so, with Diane watching her back intently the whole while. “There you go, happy?”
“Quite.” Diane turned and fiddled with the controls on the base of the projector. Soon, there were a pair of blue arcs on the back of the model, and there were two blue disks coming out of them. “This will tell us if whatever you have on the model will obstruct your wings. Nifty toy, eh?”
“Quite,” Quartz deadpanned as she retracted her wings and grabbed her shirt.
“So,” Jade asked, as her sister pulled her shirt over her head, “now what?”
“Now,” Diane looked smug as she pulled out a large book filled with paper and data disks, “we go shopping.”
Confused looks graced the twins’ faces. “Huh?” was the mutual reply.
Diane laughed. “This is the catalogue from every major chain designer out there. As well as some fun of my own design. With it, we can see how everything you want to buy will look on you before you buy it, without even walking into the store. Neat, eh?”
Jet looked lost, but Quartz was grinning ear to ear. “Virtual dressing room in 3-D. Neat. Patent this thing?”
Diane grinned. “Duh. I’m not that stupid. Eventually somebody important will take to the idea, and I’ll get rich off of ‘em.”
Jet finally figured it our. “Oh, that is so fucking cool. You two are such nerds.”
“Yeah,” Diane countered, “but nerd’s get rich.”
“Yup,“ Quartz agreed, “but are we going to make insulting small talk all day, or are we going to do this?”
Since they were all in agreement, they spent the next hour or two engaged in trying on literally hundreds of outfits, from demure to outlandish, conservative to exhibitionist. They had a great deal of fun, and the twins were able to get their minds wrapped around the sight of themselves in female clothes, some of them very feminine, in a variety of ways. It was a surprisingly entertaining experience. When Brian arrived, it was to the sound of female laughter, giggles actually.
“I can’t believe my ears. I’m hearing the gruesome twosome giggling. I must be hallucinating.” Brian’s tone was light, but he was only half joking.
“Yes you twit,” Quartz jabbed back, “we’re giggling. And if you’d been here, you’d’ve seen why. It was just…”
“I think that we should settle down and sort this out.” Diane was holding her stomach, but her voice was steady. “I want to show you girls something. This is called the tee shirt model.” She inserted a dist into the base of the projector, and the model’s shirt switched to a blank white tee, rather baggy. She fiddled with the interface, and the pants turned into simple denim jeans. “We can adjust the shirt almost any way we like. We can make it smaller,” she touched a few buttons and sudden the shirt shrank until it was stretched to almost breaking over the models breasts, and fell no more than an inch below them, “or change the color,” a few more buttons and now it was black, “or even make it a pattern,” and with a final button push, a large pink Venus symbol appeared on the chest of the shirt, badly distorted by the stretch of the fabric over the breasts.
“Neat, so, we can use this to see how tee’s from wherever will fit us and get sizes?” was the immediate question from Jet.
Diane gave an affirmative, and the two of them bent over the projector and began playing with the controls, writing down sizes and fits on a piece of scrap paper lying on the table. Quartz helped Brian bring the boxes of underwear up to the bedrooms, and divided the lingerie up into two batches, one for her and one for Jet, and dumped them on their beds. While she was in her room, she grabbed her tablet. Then they headed back downstairs.
“So,” Jet was saying, “about four or five of each of these, in white for me, and black for Quartz?”
Diane was nodding, and Quartz looked over their shoulder at the list, “What am I getting now?”
Jet looked up at her twin, “Tee shirts. Basic building blocks of any good wardrobe. I don’t plan on going all artsy fartsy any time soon, so we get utilitarian wear first. Then we can do the fancy stuff.”
Quartz looked at the list, and then looked at Brian, “Can you head over to the mall? I can order everything online for store pickup, and you can grab it. I’ll call you with each order, and you can run them out to your truck.”
Brian nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Just don’t stick me with the bill.”
They laughed at that, and then Quartz set to work getting the shirts that Jet had picked in the right sizes and colors. Then they sat down and looked at each other.
“Pants,” was the first thing out of Quartz’s mouth.
Jet nodded, and they dialed the tee into a simple, but snug, fit. Then they started going through denim catalogues. It took about 3 hours, but eventually they had settled on a dozen pairs of jeans each, and Quartz had placed the order.
“Flying outfits?” Jet looked embarrassed while she suggested it.
“Good idea, actually,” Quartz mused. “It would be a little strange to have to strip our tops off every time we want to go flying.”
“Oh, I’m sure the boys would enjoy the show.” Diane’s voice was strangled with mirth.
“Right, not my idea of a good time,” Jet was firm. “Coats? Halters?”
“Both good, actually.” Diane looked thoughtful. “Give me that a moment.” She took the controls and started playing with them, inserting several disks as she did so. Suddenly, the tee shirt morphed into an athletic halter top, and the marks showing where the wings were turned blue again. “Good, that style of top leaves your wings clear.” Quartz summarily ordered two dozen, one for her in black, and one for Jet in white.
Diane was still fiddling with the controls, and suddenly a large leather trench coat appeared on the model. The wing markers suddenly turned black. Diane nodded, got up, looked at the back of the coat, and started fiddling with the controls again. Suddenly the wing markers turned blue again. Diane nodded firmly, and the twins gave her confused looks. “I gave it some custom modifications. I can place this order with a friend of mine, and it’ll be ready by tonight. I’ll call this in, while you two give Brian the last pickup, and tell him to come back. We have enough for you two to get into some real clothes, and then we’ll do the fancy shopping.” She walked off into the kitchen, pulling out her E-Com as she went.
Jet looked at her sister, and shrugged. “Fast food?”
Quartz called after Diane, “Chicken or burgers?”
Moments later Diane’s voice floated back, “Burgers, a number 1 with no tomato, diet soda, medium.”
“Usual,” Quartz asked her sister, and received a nod in reply. She quickly composed a message to Brian, telling him about the last
pickup, and asking him to head back, and grab food. She included Diane’s order, as well as hers and Jet’s. She told him to save the receipt; she would pay him when he got back. A few minutes later, before Diane finished her call, her Tablet beeped, and she read the message from Brian telling her that the pickup was done, and he was grabbing the food and heading back. He would be there in twenty minutes. “Brian’s on his way.”
When the food arrived, the first thing that the girls did was take their new clothes up stairs and change out of the sweat suits. Quartz grabbed a simple black cotton bra and after a few minutes of wrangling, figured out how to slip it on. She then grabbed one of her black tees and a pair of simple jeans and slipped them on. She went into the bathroom to check her reflection in the mirror, and smiled at the sight. She looked like an ordinary young woman. Well, if ordinary young women had chalk white skin and hair and F cup tits. Still, she was pleased with the effect as she tied her hair back in a tail. The black of the shirt offset her skin, and made her unusual appearance seem exotic, and not freakish. She smiled into the mirror as she headed downstairs to go get her food.
The lovebirds were sitting at the table eating their food, and Diane looked up as Quartz sat down. “Nice look. Simple, yet feminine, but not overly so. You know, what you two really need is a trip to a salon. A day of getting pampered and primped would do you so much good. Plus, you could get an expert to give you makeup advice.”
Quartz nearly choked on her hamburger. When she recovered, she responded wryly, “Maybe later.”
Jet chimed in as she walked down the stairs, “Much later.”
Diane looked sad, and Brian laughed. “That figures. You two really should do the whole salon/spa thing at some point though. It might help you come to terms with the whole girly thing.”
Quartz looked around, “There has got to be something we’ve forgotten. What haven’t we done…”
Diane laughed. “Desperate to change the subject?”
Jet mumbled something around a mouthful of hamburger that sounded remarkably like ‘hell yes!’ The others just laughed.
“Well,” Diane mused, “we haven’t done shoes yet.”
Quartz looked up, “Shoes, now there’s a quandary. What size are we anyway?”
Diane looked at the readout on the interface for the projector, and fiddled for a bit. “I would guess, about a 11 or 12, maybe a 13. You’ve got small feet, relatively speaking.”
“Yeah, we wore size 15’s before.” Quartz looked down at her feet. They were indeed quite dainty. “I guess I never noticed. Hard to see my feet under these boobs.”
Jet swallowed the hunk of hamburger she had been chewing and asked Diane, “You have a shoe catalogue in there?”
Diane looked chagrined. “Sorta. It’s only high heels though.”
Jet gave Quartz a resigned look. “Why does that not surprise me.”
“Well, why not. Let’s take a look at the options.” Quarts looked intrigued. “There may actually be something decent in there.”
There were nods all around, reluctantly from Jet, but there was a consensus. The next hour or so was spent looking at shoes, from strappy heels to sandals to boots. There were actually two that the girls liked in the catalogue. A high heeled combat boot, with a five inch heel, and a sandal with a low one and a half inch heel. Both were utilitarian, the boot being both attractive and sturdy, and the sandal being comfortable and easy to get on and off. Then they went through and sized several tennis and running shoes, and settled on a simple sneaker for everyday wear. By the time they managed to settle on the specifics, it was late afternoon, and Diane and Brian headed out to pick the stuff up. Diane went to get the coats, and Brian to get the shoes.
The twins killed the time playing mindless shooters on their various game consoles. When Brian and Diane returned, the twins tried on the shoes and the coats. The coats were a big hit. Jet got a white coat, and Quartz a black. Both coats were leather dusters, and came down to nearly their ankles. There were slits cut into the back, hidden in the vents in the back of the duster, perfectly placed to allow their wings to unfurl through the back of the coat. It was really a very clever design.
“Diane,” Jet gushed, “you are brilliant.”
“As much as it galls me,” Quartz mused, “I have to agree with my darker sister. This is brilliant.”
Diane smiled. “If I’m so very brilliant, then you can show your appreciation by trying on these.” She held up the boots. “I’ll love to see you pull these off.”
“Ah,” Jet grinned. “The skyscraper boots. This’ll be fun.” She grabbed one of the black pair and started pulling them on. As she was lacing them up her calves, she made a comment, “Interesting feeling.”
Quartz grunted in agreement. “Definitely unique.” She swung to her feet. “Whoa. Unique and unusual. This is definitely a new feeling.”
Jet swayed to her feet and tried a few steps. “Not what I expected, but I think I can manage.” She staggered a few steps, and then centered herself, and slowly began to walk across the room. As the other three watched she went from a unsteady wobble to a slow walk, to a steady stride. Her gait altered to accommodate the heels, forcing her into a very feminine walk that seemed very out of place to her friends. They stared at her in surprise. “What?”
“How did you do that?” Diane was stunned.
Jet grinned. “All that fancy martial arts dancing did me some good then, eh?”
Brian laughed as Quartz shook her head. “So, I’m going to have to learn to dance now?” The expression on her face was one of mingled amusement and dismay.
“No,” Diane laughed. “No, I don’t think so. Just wear them. All of tonight and tomorrow. Take it easy the rest of the night, get some practice walking in those things tomorrow, and you should be fine.”
“Not up to any dancing fine,” Jet interjected, “but you should stop falling over. It’s easier then it looks.”
Brian laughed. “Think of it as coordination training.”
Quartz looked sour, and slowly started to stagger around the room. After a few minutes, she grunted, “Right, well, I’m gonna make dinner, and then you two can scram. I’m sure that your own beds are starting to look really nice after a week on our couch.”
Brian and Diane laughed, and started going about packing up their bags. The dinner was Quartz’s usual fare, which is to say, excellent, and the two lovebirds left, leaving the twins alone in the house. Quartz looked at Jet and smiled grimly. “Only one thing left now.”
“Father,” Jet agreed.
“He’ll call tomorrow.”
“Most likely.”
“Just chill till then?”
“Enjoy the peace while it lasts.” Jet agreed.
The two of them headed into the house, to entertain themselves with movies and video games until late in the evening, and when they collapsed into bed in their nightgowns, they slept a dreamless sleep. The next morning, the twins woke, dressed themselves in their new clothing, put on their boots, both deciding that they needed the practice, and continued their amusements from the night before. But there was an uncomfortable tension under the merrymaking. A sense of impending doom filled their day, as they played the hours away. It was actually a relief when the house phone rang, and the caller ID said it was their father.
The image on the screen was not that of a happy man. The senator’s stately, gentlemanly face, normally the perfect image of compassion and patience was distorted into a purpling grimace of irrational rage. He wasn’t taking this well at all, was the thought crossing Quartz mind. He had called them at a little past 4:30 in the afternoon, and things had gone south from the moment that she and Jet had answered the phone.
“Hello father.” Their greeting had been usual and formal, completely automatic. The response was not.
“What the hell are you things doing in my house?!?! Where are my sons?”
Jet tensed, and Quartz could tell she was suddenly terrified. Quickly she moved to calm their father. “Father, it’s us. It’s Daniel and Samuel. We caught MORFS.”
Their father stared at them for a long moment. Then he exploded. “NO! My blood breeds true! You are not my sons. You are terrorists, criminals, seeking to exploit me.” He was ranting, raving. Quartz tried to get a word in edgewise, but could not. The ranting continued, and the senator’s face began to purple.
The two of them stood there and endured the verbal abuse, the cursing, the insults, all the while trying to get through that they really were his sons. He refused to believe them. “Enough,” he screamed, “you two have till tonight to give my sons back, and that’s all the head start I’m going to give you. If you’ve harmed them, I’ll hunt you down and exterminate you, vermin!” The connection was abruptly cut.
“Well, that went well.” Jet’s tone held enough sarcasm to sink a small ocean liner.
“Yeah.” Quartz sighed in resignation, “Well, we might as well wait up. He’s probably gong to call the security detail and report a kidnapping. We just wait till they come by and pick us up.”
Jet nodded. “Right. Then we use an identity test to match us to him, and we’re good idea. Then we get disowned.”
“Right. Can’t say we didn’t see this coming.”
“Nope.”
“Pack?”
“Small, what we can carry by hand.”
“Just the new stuff then, and the essentials.”
They got to it. All of their new wardrobe went into self sealing vacuum storage packs. They got their entire wardrobe, what there was of it, into a duffle bag each. Then they started on the essentials as they called it. Quartz got her tablet and its charger, most of her rarer and hard to get paraphernalia. Then she grabbed her books, and started storing them in travel boxes, and taping them and labeling them for mailing. Next, she grabbed her movie collection, stored in binders, and packed that with the tablet. The video games and consoles went next. Then she was done. It all fit in two duffels, save for the books, which filled four large mailing boxes. She set the labels on the boxes, wired the postage, and set them in the manor mail room. Each box included a letter to the recipient, Diane, telling her to hide the boxes until Quartz could come and get them. Then she went to see her sister.
They were both in their nightgowns. They had set out one set of clothes, the ‘flying clothes,’ for tomorrow. They had decided that those were their most impressive. Quartz had her two duffels, and Jet had a duffel and what looked like a golf bag. Quartz eyed the longer bag. “Taking the cutlery with?”
“Hell yeah. This stuff is expensive.” Jet was furious. Her shock had worn of, and now her anger at their father was obvious in her expression.
“Point. Pun intended.”
“Keep that up and I’ll give you a point.”
“Well, it’s almost midnight. One would think that if they were coming…”
“They would be here by now. Put this stuff in the hall closet. We’ll grab it in the morning.”
“Right. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow promises to be a fun day.”
They both retired to their respective rooms, laying down for a rest, weary from the emotional toll of the day. Outside, the green glow of a night vision visor glowed eerily in the dark.
Malcolm Stark observed the manor from his vantage point on their transport. This whole op stank. They were here to take out some terrorists, but from what he saw these were just some kids. They moved around that house with an ease that implied intimate familiarity, and that made him doubt the claim that they were terrorists. There wasn’t nearly enough wariness in them. He looked at his troop mates, and saw none of his doubts reflected in their faces. Their briefing had been unusually short. The commander had come in and told them that terrorists had kidnapped the Carmichael twins and had put impostors in their place. They were to go in and eliminate them. It was assumed that they had some sort of telepathy that would allow them to get others to assume that they were indeed the individuals in question. They were simply to go in and kill them at the most convenient moment.
The whole operation stank. This wasn’t what he had signed up in the Special Forces for. He got into the Delta Forces to protect people, not execute kids. But orders were orders, and he had no choice. He sighed, and muttered under his breath, “This sucks.”
“What was that solider.” His commander’s voice was a harsh whisper in his ear.
“Nothing sir, just a quick prayer for success.” His response was automatic.
“Good. Stark, you take James, Di’Orio, Nielson, McDowell and Lasher and take them out.” The command was quiet and brutal. “Make it quick, and don’t let them talk to you. No warning.”
Malcolm took his weapon, slung it over his shoulder and grabbed one of the repelling ropes, and the craft came to a hover over the balcony on the south side of the manor. He slid down the rope, and silently landed on the balcony. The five other members of his team landed just as noiselessly around him. He motioned them to the door, and stood there with his weapon ready while Di’Orio opened the glass door, and he quickly stepped into the room. It was a large bedroom, mostly empty, with posters on the wall, and a large desk and bookshelf. There was a large bed set next to the glass doors, with a window over it. Lying on the bed was a young woman, most likely under twenty-one. She was thin and lithe, with just barely visible muscle tone under her supple skin. Her incredibly ample breasts rose and fell softly with her breathing, making her black nightgown ripple slightly. Her pale, chalk white skin gleamed softly in the moonlight.
He motioned for James, Nelson, and Lasher to head through the hall to the other room to take care of the other one. He shouldered his weapon, and walked over to the bed, while signing to Di’Orio and McDowell to cover him. He slowly drew his sidearm and placed its barrel just a fraction of an inch away from the bridge of her nose, right between her eyes. Softly he whispered, “I’m sorry,” and blinked back tears.
Then he pulled the trigger.
Well, I guess I'll be nice and let you know just how things go from that VERY unfortunate place I left you last time. I'd say I was sorry, but I'm not.
But before I continue, allow me to remind you that more of this story, and the entirety of the MORFS universe, wich includes many, many more excelent pieces of fiction, can be found Here
Quartz was sleeping peacefully. Then there was a loud pop from directly in front of her and a splitting pain between her eyes brought her raging out of her dreams and into wakefulness. Her head was pressed down into her pillow, and there was a splitting pain between her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she saw the smoking barrel of a gun not 4 inches from her face. Without really thinking she reached out and grabbed the hand holding the gun in her face.
Her hand crushed down on the wrist above that hand, and she yanked it down next to her, hard. She saw the black-ops guy attached to that wrist get yanked down. Hard. And then he hit his head on her nightstand, also hard, and with a sickening thud, and he slumped off to the side. Then Quartz heard a sliding click, and her eyes snapped over to the two black shapes standing back beside her bed.
The two operatives opened fire as Quartz scrambled to get off the bed. She felt sharp stings as the bullets struck her center mass and tossed her off the bed and out of their line of fire. Once she had a moment to catch her breath, she was rolling to her feet, and throwing a punch at the head of the first operative. His head pulped like an overripe melon struck by a sledgehammer, spraying blood, bone, and bits of brain all over the wall behind him. As his body dropped, she turned and lashed out with a foot, striking her other assailant in the side of the head as he was bringing his weapon to bear, sending him flying into the far wall. He struck with a sickeningly wet thwack and slowly slid down the wall, leaving a smear of blood on the wall. They were both obviously dead. She stared at the blood on her hands for a second, amazed at how fast it had all happened, and then she heard the gunfire from her sister’s room.
She turned her eyes from her hands, and the death they were dipped in, and headed to help her sister.
Jet was awakened by three things. One was the sound of gunfire from Quartz’s room. The second was the sound of her door opening. The third was the vision flashing through her mind of herself getting riddled with bullets on her bed. Her nightgown would be ruined. Snapping her eyes open, suddenly wide awake, she looked towards the door to see three men in black night-camo, with automatic weapons, night vision goggles, and no identifying badges or markers standing between her bed and her door. The guns were aimed at her bed, and as she began to move, all three of them opened fire.
Something strange happened as she scrambled madly to get out of the way. The world seemed to slow, so much so that she could see the bullets as they emerged from the barrels of the automatics, and she easily rolled off the bed before they reached her. As soon as she was clear of the bed, time returned to its normal, much faster pace. Her bed was churned up by the impact of the bullets she had just so contemptuously avoided. Her eyes snapped to the men invading her room, and her lips rose in a silent snarl.
She darted forward towards the first of them; his movements seeming surreally slow as she did so. Her hand darted out, and she snagged the combat knife he had secured to his thigh. Time returned to normal just long enough for her to grab the knife and slit his throat as she spun towards the other two murderers. She had heard the gunfire from the other room. They were here to kill her. If they had come for death, then death they would find. The other two didn’t even have time to scream.
She starred at the third man, holding his neck, vainly trying to hold the blood inside the severed veins and arteries that her attack had severed. He slumped to the ground as his heart traitorously pumped all the blood from his body, pooling it onto the ground at her feet. She heard a gasp from the doorway, and looked up to find her sister standing there. *Good, she’s alive,* Jet thought, and then the reality of what she had done hit her, and she began to shake.
Quartz looked at her sister. Seeing her covered in blood was a sobering experience. Then she looked down and saw the blood on her own white hands, and took a deep breath, choking down hysteria. She could panic later. If there was a later. Right now the two of them needed to plan. She looked at the three bodies, all with their throats neatly cut, and decided that it was time to get the two of them out of here. Stay here much longer, and she was going to lose her lunch.
“Alright Jet, time to move.”
Jet looked at her sister in something akin to shock. “Huh?”
“Bathroom,” Quartz ordered. “Get cleaned up and into your flight gear. We’ve gotta go. I’ll watch out for more of these idiots.”
Jet shook her head. There was something wrong, she just couldn’t place it. Then it suddenly came clear, and she shouted, “Quartz MOVE!” as she dove to the left.
Quartz’s eyes widened in shock as her sister suddenly dove off to the right so fast she looked like a ebon blur, and then she saw the hover carrier floating just beyond the balcony. And then the high velocity bullets from the gunner’s mini-cannon ripped into her, and tossed her back against the wall, driving her into a crater in the wall.
“Quartz!” Jet screamed, devastated by the loss of her sister. She turned and snarled at the gunner of the carrier, hanging there in his harness, and suddenly the entire room was filled with this light gray haze.
Suddenly, the gunner wasn’t pouring bullets into the wall where Quartz was pinned. He was looking around, like her had no idea what was going on. “Target lost,” he shouted at what was presumably his CO in the cockpit of the craft, “where did this thermal camo smoke come from!”
“Ignore it,” came the cry from the cockpit. “Fill that whole stinking area with fire. Finish the other one off!”
Then Jet heard a voice she hadn’t expected, carrying over the sound of the transport. Quartz’s clear soprano rang out, “Oh fuck no!”
Quartz was pissed. That had HURT! That and her nightgown was shredded. She could feel the rage boiling in her blood, and it was pooling in her hands. Then she heard the bit of conversation between the gunner and his superior, and she just lost it. Who did these idiots think they were! They were willing to simply kill her and her sister without even confirming the validity of the charges. They were being railroaded. “Oh fuck no!” she snarled, and threw her hand at the craft, putting all of the boiling, raging energy that had been building inside of her into the gesture.
A lance of blindingly bright, white, something, shot from her hand, and impacted the hover carrier. It exploded upon impact, generating a blast of a magnitude equivalent to a high powered missile. The craft was shredded. It simply bulged, then popped, exploding in an extravagant pyrotechnic display as the ammunition and fuel on board combusted and ignited. The twisted and shattered hulk fell, burning, onto the front lawn of the manor, and rolled down the hill slightly. There was no way anything human could have survived that blast.
The grey mist dissipated from their vision, and both of the twins turned to the other and said, in unison, “How the hell did you do that?”
They both stared at each other for a moment more, and then, as if coming to a mutual agreement to deal with it later, simply headed into the bathroom to deal with the mess.
They stripped down, and quickly and efficiently cleaned themselves of the visible signs of the recent fracas. There was nothing indulgent or sensual about this. This was business, survival, and they both went about it with a single-minded determination that contained more then a little desperation. In minutes, they were clean, and dressed in their jeans, halters, and leather jackets, and standing over the body of one Sergeant Stark.
Jet spoke first. “How did you survive that?”
Quartz shrugged. “Notta clue. Guess I’m bulletproof, but it still hurt like hell. How’d you get outa the way?”
“Saw it coming, split second before it happened, and jumped. Things seemed to slow down as it happened. I saw the bullets hitting you, they looked like they were moving so slowly, but then I saw them hitting you, picking you up and throwing you across the room, and into the wall…”
“Yeah, that sorta sucked. I don’t recommend it.”
“Well, what did you do to that transport?”
“Again, clueless. Figure it out later, this idiot is coming to.”
Malcolm was stirring, and the girls crouched on either side of him. They had searched him while he was out, and taken all of the weapons that they had found, including the suicide pill. When he came to, and his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was the two of them, looming over him. The second was that he was rather thoroughly disarmed. His reaction was typical. “Well, fuck.”
Jet smiled, and Quartz just sneered, “I think not.”
Jet continued smiling. “Alright Sergeant Stark, how about you tell us just what the hell you thought you were doing.”
“Eliminating a MORFS empowered terrorist, likely with mental persuasion abilities,” was the immediate answer. Stark was smart enough to know when the game was up. Giving them harmless answers wasn’t going to harm anything, and might buy time for the commander to get back with backup.
“Terrorists. Since when is the standard response to a terrorist Special Forces!” Jet was outraged.
Quartz laid a hand on her sister’s arm, and Malcolm answered the question. “Since the Dallas situation in 2025. I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”
Quartz nodded. “Big purple guy. Some punk gang banger MORFS, turns into big bad and ugly, and heads out to take ‘what’s owed him’ in a big way. Tore apart half of downtown Dallas, killed about 50 cops and a couple hundred civilians before the army brought him down. I remember watching it on the news.”
Malcolm nodded, and winced in pain. Quartz looked at him and scowled. “Don’t move much, Sergeant. I broke your wrist, dislocated your shoulder, and broke your collarbone and four ribs. You got off easy, for someone who was trying to execute me.”
“My team?” he asked, suddenly concerned.
“All dead,” Jet replied, her expression turning hard and cold. “And so is your ride. Now who ordered this fiasco, and why was it turned over to you.”
“My orders came from my Captain, and he received his directly from the General in charge of the division. Our unit was attached to the branch of the army responsible for dealing with rouge MORFS criminals.”
Both of the twins cursed silently. Then Quartz cursed aloud, “Crap. Well that sends things all the way into plan E. Why oh why is father such an ass.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and then she steeled herself. Time for that later. Survive now.
“Jet,” she barked, “get the car and load up the boxes we packed into the back. We can’t leave them here; we’ll have to hand deliver them.”
Jet simply nodded and stormed off, anger set into her every motion. Quartz looked down, then grabbed a sheet of loose paper, and began to scrawl out a quick note to Diana. She struggled the entire time to keep her emotions in check, to not vent her frustrations on the helpless man on the bed. Because against her, he really was helpless. He couldn’t hurt her, and she could kill him with a single blow. That strength frightened her, and her own feelings about what had happened earlier were mixed indeed. On one hand, she was furious, and pleased that she and her sister had wiped out their foes with such ease. On the other, those men were just doing their jobs, and she had slaughtered them like so many sheep. So it came as a great shock when she heard her prisoner’s voice from behind her.
“So you two really are the Carmichael twins then. Crap.”
“You knew?”
“No. The official intel was that you had been confirmed as hostile terrorist imposters, likely with mental or pheromone based mutations allowing you to control the perceptions of others.”
“But you suspected.”
“Me, personally, I thought that there was something wonky about the mission, yeah, but I didn’t have any real proof, other than a hunch, and that won’t cut it. The higher ups said there was proof, which meant that a grunt like me was going to have to just lump it.”
“You could have stopped this.”
“No, I couldn’t have. What I could have done was officially withdraw from the mission in protest, kill my career, and let some idiot without any morals or compassion be picked to replace me on the team.”
“But you believe us when we say we really are the senator’s sons?”
“Yeah, but I ain’t gonna say anything. Best thing for it is if I just shut up, and keep my eyes open. Figure out why the hell we got the order without any proof.”
“You do that. What do you recommend for us?”
“Run like hell. Turtle. Go dark. Vanish.”
“What I figured.” Quartz grabbed the note off the desk and stalked out the door, grabbing her duffels as she went. “Have a nice life, Sergeant.”
The voice that floated down the stairs after her was quiet. So quiet that she almost didn’t hear it. “You too, kid, you too.”
When she got downstairs, Jet was outside, loading the jeep. She made a quick stop in the kitchen, and then in the maid’s supply closet, and took a moment to mix a few things together in a bottle. Then she pulled a small electrical doodad out of her pack, and tossed it into the bottle, closed the whole contraption, and moved out to help her sister, being very careful with the bottle. When she got there, she very carefully, stowed the bottle under the carriage, right next to the hydrogen storage matrix for the fuel cell. One of the many nifty things about modern auto’s, was the storage matrix that kept the normally volatile hydrogen non-reactive (Read, not likely to go BOOM) in the event of an accident. Unfortunately for this particular auto, one of the known flaws in the design was that an explosion located in the right place can make it detonate anyways. And that place just happened to be where she had placed her little improvised bomb. The things you learn on the ‘Net.
As she was crawling out from under the jeep, Jet walked into the garage with the last of the mailing boxes. She graced Quartz with a raised eyebrow, and Quartz just laughed. “Don’t get into any accidents. The whole thing is rigged to blow. I’m not taking any chances. We’re going to take these to the Postal office drop off, and leave them on the loading dock, just like they were brought in by a truck.”
Jet nodded, “And got forgotten overnight, right? Decent plan. Cameras?”
“Not a problem if we’re careful. I’ve had to sneak things in there before. Remember Nicole? Her panties.”
Jet just raised an eyebrow. “Cute.” She shrugged the last box into the back, and moved over to the driver’s side. “Come on, the sooner we get out of here, the better. They may have backup.”
“One second,” Quartz motioned to her sister to wait a bit, and then opened one of the boxes, tossed the note inside, and resealed it. Then Quartz hopped into the passenger side with her bags, and nodded. “Lets get gone.”
They went. As they passed the entrance to the manor, Quartz leaned out of the window, and waved at the camera. Jet blew it a kiss. And then they were out of the manor, and heading into the city. Quartz took another electronic gizmo, and put it on the dash. He hit a few buttons, and then lights started blinking on the top. Jet shot her a look, and she shrugged. “Multi-frequency radio jammer. Stops vehicle tracking.”
“You and your toys.” Jet shook her head.
Quartz laughed. “Like your swords are any different.”
“Yeah,” Jet sallied back, “the swords aren’t nearly this useful.”
That killed the conversation, so the two of them sat there and stared ahead, thinking about the events of the past hour or so, and tried not to lose control. They were both only marginally successful. It didn’t help that they both knew, somehow, without doubt, that their twin was just as troubled. It made things worse in ways, but it also kept them from actually losing control, because they knew that if they did, so would their twin, and then they would both be dead.
It was a relief for them both when Jet pulled around to the back of the Postal Office, and they could get out and begin unloading the boxes. Quartz pointed our where all the blind spots in the surveillance were, and moved off to jimmy the cheap lock off the loading dock doors. A few minutes and a bobby pin later and the old mechanical lock was off, and they could get in. Within 30 minutes, all the boxes were hidden in the unprocessed pile, under the overnight deliveries that the automated system had logged in, and they were out and off.
“Where to now?” Jet asked as they left the center of town.
“Overlook Point.” Was all Quartz said, referring to a place about twenty minutes up the road from their house. It was part of a state park, a family friendly place with an amazing view of the bay. It was also right past Higgins house/office.
“Stop in on Higgins?” Jet inquired.
Quartz was actually surprised; she had forgotten that the good doctor’s house was literally on the way. As Jet turned the car in that direction, she nodded. “Might as well. We need to find out what the hell he said to father.”
“True that,” was her sister’s only reply, and then both of them were left to their thoughts for the quarter hour that it would take for them to get to the doctors.
They were both lost in reflection again as they drove, but not so much so that they failed to notice the large hole in the foliage at the edge of the road, as well as the caution signs still up. The kind of signs you only see after a major accident. And then, as they drove past the crater in the foliage, they saw the police tape around what looked like a wreck site down in a gully just off the road. Then they drove off, and continued on their way to Dr, Higgins’ home.
When they got there though, they were rather surprised to find an official police notice on the door, proclaiming that the sole resident and owner, one Dr, Henry Higgins, had been found in a automotive accident, and was found dead at the scene. The twins were understandably shocked. This explained their father’s behavior. He had never been told that they had contracted MORFS. Even if the senator hadn’t believed Higgins, when presented with the truth he would have been willing to accept it. He wouldn’t have taken it well, but he wouldn’t have gone ballistic this way. Without that advance notice, though, the twins were still his sons in his mind, and as such, not susceptible to such things as MORFS. This explained everything. And it meant that they would have to publicly destroy their father’s image in order to clear themselves. As long as he had power, he would never stop. He fully believed that they were terrorists who had kidnapped his sons, and would take any and all steps to extract his vengeance. The morning’s events made sense now.
“Oh, CRAP!” Quartz exclaimed. Jet just nodded mutely in agreement. They hurried back to the car, suddenly in a rush to get to the park and cut ties. They couldn’t leave traces, and that was why Quartz had picked this as their disappearing point. They could always be traced so long as they used the car, but if they destroyed that, they were good. The only way they would be traced after that would be if the trackers managed to follow their physical tracks. Quartz had made sure that none of her electronics had working trackers quite some time ago, and all the cutlery that Jet had was archaic, authentic stuff. There was nowhere to put a tracker. So they just had to find a way to avoid footprints. Hence their destination.
When they arrived, Quartz got out and headed over to the payphones, while Jet unpacked their gear and made sure it was all secure. Quartz went and dialed the mansion, and left a message on their old voicemail system. “Hello father, or more likely, the forensic investigators. This is Quartz Carmichael. My sister Jet and I used to be called Samuel and Daniel. We are the offspring of Senator Michael Carmichael. We just wanted to be left alone. That isn’t going to happen. Know that we aren’t going to start a damn thing, but we’ll sure as hell finish anything that does start. Don’t chase us. Leave us be. Let us live our lives in peace. Not that I expect you to listen. It would just be nice, for once, to be pleasantly surprised. Not that I expect that to happen. Not after what happened to our mother and sister. The files are on the desk in my old bedroom. Take a look. We’ll see you around.”
When she hung up the phone, she unfurled her wings from under the coat, and moved over to the edge of the cliff. Overlook Point. The view really was amazing, even at four in the morning. Letting out a long sigh, she snagged her two duffels, which seemed quite light all of a sudden, and with a look at her sister, jumped off the cliff.
Well, things start off with a bang, and then we enter secret agent mode.
This is also the first appearance of the infamous Wolf, so hang on, this gets complicated, fast.
If you want to check out the rest of the universe and the multiple fine stories within, you can check out the whole thing HERE
Sergeant Malcolm Stark was in a rather lot of pain. It has been several hours since the Carmichael twins had left. He was convinced now. The two of them had to have been the twins, not some kidnapping terrorists. What a load of bull. With something like two hours of observation, he knew that, and he was just a grunt.
Well, maybe not just a grunt. You didn’t get the kind of position he held if you were just a grunt. And maybe that was part of the problem. He thought too much. Usually that wasn’t a bad thing, but then again, usually his targets weren’t American kids. Even if they were MORFS victims. Maybe that’s what happened, like the kid had said. Their father the senator was certainly well known for his position on the issue. But still, they were his kids. Malcolm just sighed, and then winced. The com unit in his ear chimed in, “You alright sergeant?”
He sighed again, more carefully. “Yeah,” he said, softly into the mike taped under his collar, “just thinking about how this whole thing has gotten FUBAR.”
“I hear you, solider,” the voice on the other side of the com gear said, and it actually sounded sincere. “Help’s on the way.”
Help, in this case, was not another Delta Force unit. It wasn’t even another military unit. It was a FBI forensics team and a local EMS team. In yet another example of how amazingly screwed up this entire op had been, there was no evac or contingency in place. Then again, he got the impression that the Captain had lied about his orders. There hadn’t been any time to check this out, and he wasn’t sure this had been entirely legitimate. Thankfully, he had put his reservations down in writing, and handed them to the officer of the watch to be given to the base commander, so his ass was covered. The Captain however, was not. That idiot was going down, even if only for violation of standard procedure.
Just as he was getting really worked up over it, he heard voices downstairs, and whispered into the com, “I hear them, tell them I’m upstairs.”
“Right, sergeant,” the com spat back. Moments later, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then there was an eager looking young man in a suit, with a FBI tag hanging from his suit standing in the doorway.
“He’s in here,” the young agent called, and then he noticed the two bodies. And promptly left, looking like he was about to loose his lunch.
A moment later, a woman entered, looking like she was in her early thirties. And she was obviously a MORFS victim. She had green hair, including her eyebrows. It could have been a dye job, but he guessed not. Especially given her age. Her first comment confirmed it.
“Yes, sergeant, I am a MORFS survivor.” She made a point of that last word. She looked him up and down, and then he heard a voice in his head, *We need to talk.*
Malcolm just nodded his head, and focused on thinking back at her, *Yes, we do, but let’s keep this between us.*
She raised an eyebrow at him, and calmly introduced herself. “I’m Agent Davies, sergeant, and we seem to be in a bit of a situation here.” *What happened here.*
“My squad was wiped out by unknown MORFS survivors, after being ordered to eliminate them,” *I believe they were the Carmichael twins, post MORFS, and that the evidence of them as terrorists and kidnappers was manufactured. I saw no evidence supporting, and quite a bit to the contrary.*
Her eyebrows shot up into her hair, and she whispered, “Oh god.” Then, in a more normal tone, “Were you given any reasons for these orders?” *And you just went along with this!?*
“No, ma’am, I inquired, and was told it was classified. My objections are down in writing, “ *Hell NO! I was told there was evidence, and there was nothing to arouse suspicion until I was on site. My objections were overruled.*
“So, what happened? And yes, EMS is on its way.”
“Thank you,” *Call someone for me?* “My squad was inserted through the balcony behind me. We entered the room, and found the white twin lying on the bed here, in a nightgown. I ordered privates Di’Orio and McDowell to cover her while I sent privates James, Nelson, and Lasher to the other side of the building to eliminate her partner. I then went to put a bullet between her eyes.”
Agent Davies raised an eyebrow, and said, “Continue.”
“I don’t remember what happened next,” *The bullet hit her right between the eyes, and all it did was shove her head into the pillow. Well, and wake her up. She grabbed my wrist, and pulled me down into the nightstand, rendering me unconscious.*
“I see. Anything else?” *She was bulletproof?*
“Not really, I woke up and they were gone, I called you guys, you know the rest,” *Yeah, when I woke up, they were there, and we had a chat. They claimed to be the missing sons of the senator, and they’re either the best actors I’ve ever seen, or they’re telling the truth. They said that they were going to rabbit, and didn’t seem to have any agenda other then being left alone. And yes, she was bulletproof.*
Davies eyes drew down in consternation, and she was about to say something, when an audio message came in on the phone. There was some shouting downstairs and then the two of them heard Quartz’s voice echo from the speaker phone in the wall.
“Hello father, or more likely, the forensic investigators. This is Quartz Carmichael. My sister Jet and I used to be called Samuel and Daniel. We are the offspring of Senator Michael Carmichael. We just wanted to be left alone. That isn’t going to happen. Know that we aren’t going to start a damn thing, but we’ll sure as hell finish anything that does start. Don’t chase us. Leave us be. Let us live our lives in peace. Not that I expect you to listen. It would just be nice, for once, to be pleasantly surprised. Not that I expect that to happen. Not after what happened to our mother and sister. The files are on the desk in my old bedroom. Take a look. We’ll see you around.”
That young agent ran up to the door, and quickly looked away. Staring studiously at the wall to his left, he snapped out, “Ma’am, we traced it. It’s a payphone at Overlook point. Henderson and Blake are already on their way.”
Davies looked at me, and then looked at the EMT’s who were already pulling the gurney past the young rookie. “Thank you sergeant, your assistance was appreciated,” was her only comment, verbally. *I’ll find them, and keep them safe.*
Malcolm stared at her as he was loaded onto the gurney. *Call Lisa Braynt, tell her Mal could use a hand.*
Davies just nodded, and then Malcolm was rolled away. Moments later, as he was being rolled out of the house, there was a massive explosion from the west, and a fireball rose into the sky. Panicked shouts rose from the mansion behind him, and the FBI agents were scurrying about madly as he was being loaded into the ambulance. It was absolute panic out there. Malcolm just laughed.
“Hahahah… Ow.”
Quartz dropped from the edge of the cliff, and plummeted towards the rocks below. Her sister Jet was moments behind her. She pushed her body out, fighting the pull of her bags, and strained to angle her wings to catch the air. When she did so, the snap and pull of the air catching in the hollow of the wings was a shock that nearly drove the breath out of her. But now she had something to brace against, and she angled her plummet into a dive, and then, with her sister following in her wake, she turned that dive slowly horizontal. She skimmed over the bay, her coat whipping behind her, mere feet above the waves and she nearly screamed in exhilaration. She felt a similar exuberance flowing from Jet, and the two of them flapped a bit for altitude, That has been very close, she hadn’t counted on the bags making it so hard to get control of the plummet, and the two of them had very nearly smashed themselves to bits.
As they swooped silently and invisibly over the bay, nothing more then two specks to anyone watching from shore, Quartz carefully took both of the bags in one hand, and rummaged in the inner pocked of her coat. After a moment she found what she was searching for, and pulled the small black disk out of her coat. Flipping it open, and making sure she had a good grip on her bags, she hit the small button inside the transmitter, sending a signal to the small transceiver in the bottle of mixed cleaning supplies hidden in the niche next to the hydrogen storage matrix in the jeep back at Overlook Point.
The transceiver got the signal, and released a small electric current into the liquid. The current stimulated the volatile mix of chemicals, starting a reaction of explosive dimensions. That explosion first destabilized and breached the hydrogen storage matrix, and then ignited the highly volatile hydrogen. The jeep, the surrounding clearing, and a large chunk of the woods of the park went up, instantly incinerating scores of innocent squirrels and birds, and one, poor, lone eagox that had unfortunately wandered too close. The fireball erupted up into the sky, sending out a deafening blast of sound that set off the car alarms for the few cars in the lot, and woke everyone anywhere near the park. The fireball was visible from the entire bayside, and from most of the city.
“Whoooooo hooooooooo!” Quartz screamed, as the shockwave from the blast sent a wave through the air, throwing the twins forward, and nearly pitching them into the bay. Jet shot her a dirty look, though Quartz could feel that she was just as excited by this as she was.
“You’re NUTS, you know that?” Jet cried back, and Quartz just grinned at her sister, and the two of them made their way to the opposite shore of the bay, and landed atop a warehouse in the industrial part of town.
Jet was glaring at Quartz, and trying not to smile and Quartz could tell. Quartz grinned back, and whispered, “I didn’t think it would be quite that big.”
Jet just sighed. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Freight train. Hopefully up to Seattle.”
“Right, then it’s the train yards.”
Quartz looked at her sister, and nodded to herself. “Jet, gimme your bags, I’ll carry them.”
Jet looked at her, looked surprised and a little insulted. ‘What?” she hissed.
“No offense, but you’re flagging. Flying with these things is killing you.” Quartz held up her two bags in one hand. “This isn’t even hard for me, I can take yours. We’re gonna need you fast and sure here, and you aren’t either, while you’re lugging those things around.”
Jet snarled, but handed over the bags. Quartz looked her sister in her gemlike black eyes, and nodded, and the two of them headed off towards the freight yards.
Twenty minutes later, the two of them were sitting on the roof of the freight yards, with Quartz’s tablet out, and a splice running into the cable line for the building. They weren’t actually in Salicia anymore; they were in one of the neighboring towns, a much less prestigious area, and they had run into a problem. This wasn’t one of the national line’s hubs; it was the local light rail and an Amtrak hub. Useful, to an extent, but they needed to find something that would get them out of the immediate area, today, unobserved. Hence the hack, and the attempt to gain access to the yard’s computers.
“Crap,” Quartz cursed lightly, “well, looks like a freight train to Seattle is out.”
Jet scowled again. “Why?”
“Apparently, it’s cheaper to go up there by boat. Everything freight out of here is down to San Fran. We need to find a way to get to either Portland or Seattle and the national freight line, and then we should be set to get into Chicago. Give me a minute.” Quartz scowled at the computer, and paged through several pages of lists, and then smiled. “Got it, there’s an Amtrak line up to Seattle with a light freight shipment heading up there at three this afternoon. It’s mostly passenger, but there are a few freight cars on the train for things that need to get shipped up. A mail car, three containers going all the way, and the luggage cars plus the passenger crap. We should be good. And as a bonus, it’s one of the new maglev monorails. We should be there in about a day”
Jet nodded, and then frowned. “Food and water?”
Quartz frowned. “We’ll have to hit the gift shop in the terminal and borrow some. That or get something in Seattle.”
Jet just nodded. “They’ll notice it in Seattle.” Quartz just shrugged. “Well what are we waiting for,” Jet said, as she rose to a crouch, “let’s go shopping.”
Quartz focused herself on her tablet, and motioned for Jet to wait. “One sec. I’m gonna try to get into the security system here.”
Jet nodded, but moved over to the edge of the roof anyways, and began to look around.
Quartz suddenly nodded, and hissed, “I’m in. Give me thirty seconds to loop the video and you’re good. This system is a joke compared to the one at the house.” She began to fiddle on the tablet as Jet began to silently count to thirty. “There. Round the back, second door. Service entrance.”
Jet’s only reply was to drop off of the roof, and vanish.
From Jet’s perspective, it seemed as if the world had stopped. Well, not quite, but nearly. She watched the bird’s wings flap in slow motion, looking so slow that it seemed that she could reach out and pluck a feather. Then she hit the gravel and she saw the individual bits slowly start to float up like one of those shots of stuff in a null-g flight. It was surreal. She allowed herself a heartbeat to absorb it, and then she started sprinting. It seemed like the world around her was on pause, almost. She saw smoke sitting there, stationary till she ran through it and pushed it out of the way. She looked down as she ran across the gravel in the predawn, and saw the bits of rock shift when her boots touched them, and then immediately slow to near motionless as they stopped touching her boots. She realized that the world wasn’t stopped, just moving really slowly. She felt a grin stretch her lips as she found the door, and opened it.
Moving swiftly, with the world still in its wonderful slow motion, she noted the time on the clock on the wall, and grabbed four large souvenir tote bags off of the merchandise rack. Moving slowly and taking her time, she filled them with food and drink. It wasn’t great fare; mostly nuts, Twinkies, candy, soda, and assorted ready to eat food. Stuff that would last. She didn’t want to have to leave a trail till after they got out of Seattle. She did grab an assortment of the ready made sandwiches that were in the cooler, and looked like they would last the day un-refrigerated. Two packages of industrial bagels and a few other odds and ends, and she was set. She looked back at the clock, and laughed. It felt like she had been in here for almost an hour. It had been 5 seconds.
Still, she thought, better not to push it, she was beginning to get a headache. Moving quickly, she found that the world around her was starting to move faster. And her headache was getting worse. By the time she got back to under where Quartz was, her headache was blinding, and the world around her was moving at its normal speed. She panted, and held up the bags, blearily. Quartz nimbly jumped down, scooped her sister up, and leapt back to the roof. She glared at her sister, and shook her head.
Quartz watched her sister blur off, leaving a trail of footprints in the gravel. It looked like she stepped in each one almost at the same time. She vanished around a corner before Quartz had even realized that she had moved. Quartz just let out a low whistle. Then, a few seconds later, she saw her sister coming back, and that alarmed her. Because she actually saw Jet moving. She was moving insanely fast, but traceable. And she was getting slower as Quartz watched. She seemed to return to a normal speed a few steps before she reached the part of the building immediately opposite Quartz, and then Quartz just jumped down, grabbed her sister, and vaulted back to the top of the roof.
She glared down at her sister, wondering why Jet had felt the need to overexert herself like that, and then forced the expression from her face. Jet didn’t realize she was doing it. The two of them really needed to figure out their abilities and Jet more so than Quartz. Time to get to the train. But first, her tablet.
She lay Jet down and whispered a quiet admonition to lie still, and went and closed down the hacks and uplinks she had used to gain access to the security and scheduling systems. She repacked her gear, and put all the bags over by her sister. Kneeling at Jets side, she whispered, “You good to go?”
Jet nodded, blearily, and hauled her self up. “All right, I have got to get that under control. I’ll be good.”
Quartz gave Jet a once over, and then nodded. “Follow me, and keep up. You have the food.” Since all four bags of food weighed less then one of the bags of junk they had packed, Jet just nodded, and followed her sister.
Quartz led them both along the roof for a ways, and then they glided silently over to the car yard. It took them a few minutes to find the car they were looking for, a few more to bypass the security code on the door, and then Quartz was hauling the door to the cargo container open. Jet staggered in, and Quartz climbed in, after resetting the lock on the door to reengage after the door closed. Then she hauled the container door shut, and the two of them were alone in the dark.
Jet sighed with exhaustion, and then there was a rummaging from one of the tote bags, followed by a snap, and then there was a diffuse glow filling the car. “Glow sticks,” Jet called out.
“Good idea,” Quartz responded, and the two of them looked around for a place to rest. They wove in and out of the pallets, till they found the end of the container that didn’t open. Then they sat down, made themselves as comfortable as possible, and by mutual consent, attempted to get some sleep.
Malcolm lay back in his hospital bed. His arm was strapped to his chest, which was taped to hold his broken ribs. His wrist was in a cast, his shoulder was immobilized, and his neck was in a brace. He was sitting up, watching the morning news shows, and plotting his vengeance. Upon whom he was plotting said vengeance was still up in the air, and was being considered in the plotting. There were, after all, several potential targets.
The Carmichael twins were the obvious ones to blame for the fiasco. They had killed his men, and seriously wounded him. But they had simply been defending themselves, and he understood that. It didn’t make the deaths of his squad any easier, but it did mean that he couldn’t blame the twins for those deaths. Unfortunately.
If the opponent was out, then that left his superiors. Specifically the colonel who issued the orders that sent his squad out. The major who had been commanding his squad was dead, incinerated in the blast that took out the carrier. But that meant the he could focus on that stupid colonel. But he had to consider something else. Where had he gotten their orders from? Who really sent them in on an assassination? There were only really two possibilities.
The general in charge of the MORFS response brigade. He was a one star, but still, it was technically his call. But Malcolm knew him, and this didn’t feel like his style. Too crude, and the intell was horrible. The general knew better then to initiate an operation like this with intell this bad. And by the same logic, so did the Special Forces command, letting them off the hook as well. And that left only one choice.
The father. Michael Carmichael, the wealthy senator. His views on MORFS survivors (he decided he liked that FBI lady’s term) were well known. If he was as crazy as the twins had implied, then he really was capable of this. It was a factor that he had to consider.
He also had to consider that he was completely wrong, the colonel was right, and there was a simply a blunder in the intell department somewhere. But every time he tried to think that one through, his gut rebelled, and he was certain that his initial read was correct. Those kids were the Carmichael twins, and not some terrorists. And if that’s the case, then the entire justification for the mission goes away.
So he sat, pondering vengeance for his team, and watched the news media wonder about what exactly happened at the Carmichael manor. It was interesting entertainment, but that was all it was. A lot of noise and speculation, with no real bearing on what had happened that morning. It irritated him, but there wasn’t anything else to do at the moment, so he put up with it. But it made his mood, already black from the debacle, fouler as each moment passed. And his mood was foul indeed when the nurse poked his head into Malcolm’s room.
“What,” he snarled at the poor man, venting a measure of his irritation at the convenient target.
“Sorry, sergeant, but you have visitors,” the little man squeaked.
“And those visitors are coming in, like it or not,” an imperious voice called out from the hall. Hard on the heels of that voice came its owner, a very attractive woman dressed in simple denim pants and a white cotton tee. Her hair, a pale gold, seemed to gleam for a moment, and there was the tattoo of a caduceus on her right cheek. Her smile at his glower was radiant, lighting her grey eyes with a sparkle of a young girl. “And you’d better like it, solider boy.” Her voice was stern behind the grin in her eyes, and her smile was infectious.
“Lisa, you pirate, when did you get here?” Malcolm’s voice was light with relief. He levered himself a little more upright in his bed, and smiled at his old friend. “Here to spring me?”
“What’ll it get me?” she asked, laughingly. Malcolm just wiggled his eyebrows, and she laughed again. “Sure, why not, you reprobate.” Turning to the nurse, she asked for a chair to be brought and the moved to help Malcolm out of bed. Once the nurse was gone and Malcolm was standing, she reached around behind her and snagged a duffel bag from the hall. “Can’t have you walking around in that silly gown, now can we?”
The bag contained some clothing that looked like it fit approximately well, and with some help from Lisa, Malcolm managed to get it all on. He buttoned the shirt over his arm, and then tossed on the jacket. The empty sleeve of the jacket flapped uselessly against his side, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. He looked down at himself, and then at Lisa, “Presentable?”
“Yup, now once that nurse gets back with the chair…” Lisa was saying, and trailed off as the individual in question arrived with the requested object. “And now we can get going,” Lisa finished, and the two of them headed down to the nurses station to check out, and then down to the lobby to get out of here. On the way down, they made small talk, mostly catching up on the details of their lives since the last time they had gotten together. Growing up in a small town, you got to know the folks around, and the two of them had been friends all through high school. Malcolm had even taken her to the prom. They lost their virginity to each other, and while they cared deeply about each other, they had both decided that making a permanent thing out of their relationship would be stupid. They were TOO much alike, and would undoubtedly irritate each other. Besides, after that one time together, Lisa had confided, that while it was definitely fun, Lisa actually preferred other women. So the two of them became best friends instead. The fact that Lisa had gotten MORFS back in eighth grade, and become an extremely powerful bio-elemental and shape shifter, hadn’t hurt their relationship, despite some stresses.
Malcolm had counted it extremely lucky when the General had assigned him to this squad, because it meant that he was back in the San Francisco area, and he could look Lisa up. They had gotten together a few times since then, and had found that there was an even better reason for them to have stayed friends. They had the same taste in women. A few strip club trips later, and they were hanging out fairly regularly.
So the two of them chatted like the old friends they were, until they got to the lobby, where they found an older gentleman, in an army general’s uniform, sitting by the door, waiting for them. He rose when he saw them, and motioned for Malcolm to stay seated, as the injured man attempted to rise to attention. “At ease solider. Don’t want you aggravating that injury.” He nodded to Lisa, “Ma’am, I need to talk to my solider for a moment. Could I have a minute of privacy in your car before the two of you leave?”
Lisa stared at the general, correctly reading the rank insignia on his uniform, and simply nodded. The general accompanied them out to Lisa’s car, and the general waited as the Lisa helped Malcolm into the passenger’s seat. Once that was done, Lisa opened the driver’s door, and motioned at the general. He nodded at her politely, and remarked, “This should only take a minute or two, doctor, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Lisa nodded politely, and then walked over to the entrance and leaned against the wall. She took the keys with her.
The general got into the car, and closed the door. He looked over at Sergeant Stark and ordered, “Report Sergeant.”
Malcolm immediately began to tell the General everything that had occurred up to this point. He summarized how his team had been ordered to eliminate two confirmed MORFS terrorists in the Carmichael manor, who had kidnapped the twin sons of the senator. When he asked to see the intelligence reports he was given a one page document and the floor plan of the manor. The document contained little information other then a brief physical description of the terrorists, and the fact that they had empathic, telepathic, or some other mind influencing abilities, and were to be eliminated post haste.
Malcolm stated that he asked of the official intelligence report, and was told that it was classified, and that he would have to make due with the summary he was given at the briefing. He made an official complaint to his immediate commanding officer, who rejected his request, and then wrote up an official complaint voicing his distaste for the fact that he was entering a mission with inadequate intelligence provided.
The squad then immediately deployed, and he was one of three observers on the house for several hours. Mostly watching the two ‘terrorists’ pack up several duffel bags and boxes with what appeared to be personal items and clothing. Then the two of them changed into nightgowns, had a brief conversation, and put the packed bags in the hall closet near the twins bedrooms. They then went to those self same bedrooms, did a passable evening routine, and want to bed. It took them some time to get to sleep.
He noted several disturbing facts in his watch. The two targets didn’t seem unfamiliar at all with the house, and seemed extraordinarily comfortable in the twins rooms. There was no sign of the twins, nor were there any signs of trouble or struggle in the house. He had come to the personal conclusion that there was something wrong with the mission, but when he mentioned that to his CO, he was told that the mission would continue as normal, and to follow all orders.
He reluctantly led his men into the house, and sent half his men to deal with the second twin while he was to execute the first. He retrieved his sidearm, and very deliberately put a bullet right between her eyes. All it did was wake her up. It didn’t even bruise her. She promptly seized his weapon hand, and yanked him down, sending him into the nightstand, rendering him unconscious.
When he came to, he immediately realized that he had been disarmed, and searched. They left his com gear on him, but it was off. When he opened his eyes, he saw the two targets. They claimed to be the Carmichael twins, and seemed rather annoyed at their father, seeming to blame him for this. They decided to run, and began to leave immediately. The white twin wrote a letter to some unnamed individual, while the black one immediately began to carry the packaged belongings and objects out of the house. They then left the estate, and he called for backup. An hour later, the FBI arrived and along with them, the EMT’s. He was interrogated politely by the lead FBI agent, and then loaded into the ambulance for dispatch and treatment. Malcolm closed his report.
The general sat back and looked at his solider. “Do you believe that the targets were in fact the Carmichael twins?”
Malcolm nodded. “Yes sir, I do.”
The general nodded. “I agree with your assessment. From what you told me, and from what I know of the senator, I think I know what happened. I’ll begin an investigation of the mission immediately. I can think of at least three men who will be in serious trouble before all this is done. Now, my orders to you. One, your conclusions on the identity of these poor kids has got to stay to yourself, or you’ll suffer more severe consequences than you can comprehend. Two, you are as of now on official medical leave, indefinitely, until such a time as you are declared fit for duty. Three, you will not be declared fit for duty until this matter with the Carmichael twins is resolved. Understood solider?”
Malcolm nodded, and said, “Yes, sir. Perfectly, sir.”
The general simply nodded, and got out of the car. He walked over to Lisa, and nodded to her as he headed to his own automobile. “You take care of my boy, doc.”
Lisa nodded back, “Yes, sir.”
Lisa got into her car and started it up. As she hummed out of the lot, she asked her passenger, “What was that all about?”
“I needed to report on my last assignment,” Malcolm replied. He looked out at the road, “I’ll fill you in later.”
Lisa looked at him, and then considered what she had seen on the news before she got that call from Agent Davies. She frowned, and focused on the road again. “This is about the Carmichaels, isn’t it?”
Malcolm bowed his head. “Yeah, that would be about right.” He grimaced, expecting an explosion.
Lisa snarled, and smacked the wheel. “Damn it, Mal, you know what I told you about this kind of thing.” She smacked the wheel again. “All right, solider boy, what the hell is going on here.”
Malcolm sighed in relief. She wasn’t going to be too angry at him. “First off,” he began, “How much do you know about the Carmichael's?”
“Only that the senator’s an ass.”
“Right, then I should start at the beginning. The senator has two kids, a pair of twin boys. Yesterday morning he supposedly received a call from his manor, from a pair of MORFS terrorists, or so he claims. He immediately reported it, and my team was sent in to eliminate them.”
“All right, so since this is obviously not as cut and dry as all that, what went wrong?”
“What I said before was fact. From this point on, it’s all conjecture,” he hedged, and at her imperious gesture, he continued. “When I arrived, I began to observe the targets; I was struck by how at ease and familiar with the surroundings they were. They didn’t act like terrorists, even ones with telepathy or some other mental control. They acted like a pair of nervous kids getting ready to be thrown out of their house, to be perfectly honest.”
“Which, given some of my senator’s speeches, I can understand, assuming they were the twins.”
“Yeah, well, I was a little leery of going after them, but the intell on the mission was classified, and I didn’t have anything concrete, so my objections were overruled, based on the classified information.”
“Which is a load of crock.”
“Yes, but not one I could do anything about. So my team went in there, and we got wiped out. I’m the only one left.”
“Damn,” Lisa whittled in appreciation. “Nasty kids.”
“Yeah,” Malcolm agreed, “I put a bullet between the eyes on one of them while she was asleep from about two feet away, and it didn’t even bruise her.”
“Her?”
“Yeah, both of the targets appeared to be monochromatic females. And the twins were a pair of football jocks.”
Lisa just whistled. “Sounds like a wicked power.”
“That’s what I thought. I have no idea how this got blown so way out of proportion. But those kids seemed like decent people. And I go the same read off of them that I got off of Mika in our junior year.”
“The swap?”
“Yeah. They looked really female, but their body language read male. Football jock male. So did their conversation, and the chat I had with them after I woke up wasn’t exactly stress free.”
“You chatted?”
“Yeah, they waited around till I woke up, gave me an incredibly bad interrogation, and then decided to scram.”
“And your opinion?”
“They were the Carmichael twins. I have no idea how this happened.”
“That’s because you’re too trusting of the system.” Lisa’s voice was bitter with cynicism. “You haven’t seen any really corrupt people in the system laid bare.”
“You mean that you think that it was deliberate?”
“I think that running like hell may be the best thing those two ever did.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Malcolm made it a statement, not a question.
“There have been disappearances out of several public clinics recently. I’ve seen the medical files. Severe MORFS cases have disappeared shortly after their recovery. All in clinics receiving money from the federal MORFS assistance act.”
“And that has something to do with the Carmichael’s how?”
“Not sure,” Lisa shrugged, “but all the MORFS were extreme physical modifications. They all turned up dead several months later. They had to be identified by DNA matching. There wasn’t enough of them left to make a visual match.”
Malcolm frowned. “Experimentation?”
“Torture, I think.”
“Show me the files.” Malcolm scowled. “But how does this connect to the fact that my team was sent in early and unprepared?”
“It doesn’t. But it may be one more thing the twins have to worry about. That is the assumption you’re operating on, right? That your targets were really the Carmichael twins?”
“Yeah. And you’re right. If someone is snatching up MORFS for experimentation or something, and only powerful, extreme degree MORFS, they definitely qualify.”
“Right, well, lets get you inside, so I can start working on you,” Lisa said as they rolled up to her house.
Malcolm spotted a familiar looking car out on the street. “Lisa, did you expect company?”
“No, why?”
“I saw that car at the Carmichael house, when the FBI got there. We have visitors.”
Lisa pulled into he driveway and the two of them got our and headed around to the front of the house, where they found a rather familiar green haired woman sitting on the stoop. It was agent Davies.
Malcolm raised an eyebrow at her. “Hello?”
She looked up from the collection of folders she had been fiddling with. “I have a problem.”
Lisa gave the FBI agent a very obvious once over, and then looked over at Malcolm. “Mal?”
Malcolm looked at Lisa, then at agent Davies, and then looked up and down the block. “Inside,” he stated quietly. As Lisa walked past to unlock the door he whispered, “If you still have it, that graduation gift I gave you would be really welcome right now.”
Lisa, to her credit, didn’t react, but her hand was trembling as she unlocked the door. The three of them quickly moved inside the house, and Mal promptly crashed on the couch. With his good hand, he gestured for them all to be quiet, and then motioned for agent Davies to sit. She did so, and the two of them waited for Lisa to get back.
It took a few minutes, but Lisa eventually came back with a small white object, that looked a lot like a walkman. She handed it to Malcolm, who put it on the table and hit the button on the top. It let out a low hissing noise, like static, and Malcolm smiled. “There we go, that should let us talk without anyone nosing in on us.” He sat back with a pleased look on his face, and then took pity on the two of women. “White noise generator. It makes boom and parabolic mikes freak out. I think that someone is following you.”
Agent Davies nodded, and looked glum. “Yeah, well, it gets worse. I’ve been ordered off the Carmichael case. Misguided priorities.”
Malcolm looked irritated, and leaned forward. “Ok, explain.”
Davies looked like she was about to, but Lisa interrupted. “First, let me get to work on Mal. We’ll need him working if I’m any judge.”
Davies nodded, and Malcolm leaned back. Lisa put her hands a few inches above Malcolm’s shoulder. “You can talk, I just need to concentrate, so no raising your voice. And no moving.” This last was directed at her patient. “This should only take a few minutes.”
Agent Davies nodded and started her explanation. “Right after you were carried out, there was a detonation in Overlook Park. We already had agents en-route, so I started going over the manor. It looks like the twins had their own little apartment set up in there. Full kitchen and everything. We found the bits that they used to make a bomb of some kind, hardly high yield, but still. I had teams do a full sweep of the area, and then we took everything to the mobile lab. I also told one of my agents to track you down.” She nodded at Lisa, and then continued. “The interesting thing is, we found four sets of fingerprints. Two sets belonged to the twins. The other two weren’t in the system. The thing is the unknown prints were mostly under the twins prints. We also got some strange variants on the twins prints. The print was right, but the finger shape was off.”
Malcolm nodded. “Smaller and narrower?”
Davies smiled, “Almost. Longer and narrower. The finger was basically the same size, just proportioned differently. Like it was long and slender instead of broad and thick.” She smiled at Malcolm.
Malcolm smiled, and Lisa spoke up, “So Mal was right, and the two women he was after were really the Carmichael twins?”
“Yes, but this didn’t prove it. So I did a DNA profile on a hair that I’m fairly sure belonged to the targets, and hair that belonged to the twins.”
Malcolm interrupted, “How did you get the hair?”
“They had brushes in the bathroom. I wonder where those extra long white and black hairs came from.” She smirked again. “The twins base samples were easy. We tossed their clothes. One nice pubic hair from each twin, in their underwear. God bless slovenly teen boys. Well, long story short, we checked, and they matched. And that’s where I made my mistake. I didn’t log the hairs properly, just rushed the test through as a ‘Genetic Sample’, and that screwed me. One time, just once, I skip procedure, and it screws me.” She shook her head. “Well, anyways, I pulled the LUDs on their phones and their E-Coms, and got Lisa’s number. I called Lisa while I went over the LUDs, and was getting ready to reclassify this, when I got a call from my supervision. One spirited conversation later and I was off the case for, and I quote, ‘following the victim, not the suspect.’ What a load of bull.
“So the official line on the incident this. The twins had a party a few days ago. They turned off their father’s security system to do so. Apparently they did this often. During the festivities, the deranged Jet and Quartz, who are now not malicious terrorists, but delusional psychopaths with superpowers, snuck in, and once the partygoers were dispersed, killed the twins. They then disposed of the bodies, and attempted to assume the twins lives. They ordered new clothes on the twins credit cards and paid a local boy to pick up and deliver the items to them. The ‘plan’ began to unravel when their father called home to ask how the party went, and the ‘new’ twins answered the phone. He immediately called the task force in, and they sent a team to capture the terrorists, and ascertain the location of the twins.”
Malcolm and Lisa stared at agent Davies for a long moment, and then Malcolm laughed. “And who exactly buys this?”
“Everyone. I screwed up the original DNA test, and the retest was made against the DNA data on the twins in the security files of their father’s detail. It didn’t match.”
“What!” Malcolm exclaimed, jarring Lisa, and forcing her to shove him back. “Sorry, sorry, what did you mean, they didn’t match? That’s impossible.”
“The only explanation I have is that the data in the detail’s computers was altered. Most likely before you even went in on your mission.”
“Crap, had to be the father then. Proof?” Malcolm was incensed. He couldn’t believe that someone would try to set these kids up like this. And there was only one suspect.
“The father. You remember the message the twins left? About their mother and sister? The file was right where they said it would be. It makes interesting reading. Apparently, several years back, the Carmichael daughter contracted MORFS, and turned into a hybrid. Cat-girl, from the photos in the file. The father flipped. Accused the wife of cheating on him, rejected blood ties to the girl, divorced the wife, banished them both, and did his level best to ruin them both for life. Did a decent job of it, too.”
Malcolm leaned back. “Why didn’t the mother demand a paternity test? That would have settled things, and given her a LOT of ammo for the divorce.”
Davies looked irritated. “She did. Apparently the judge in question was a friend of the senator, and ruled that since the child had contracted MORFS and mutated in an obvious non-human direction, then that proved deviation from a pure bloodline. He summarily granted the divorce.”
Lisa gasped in outrage. “What the hell, why didn’t she appeal?”
“Apparently the good senator convinced her that appeals would just be more of the same, and since the senator wasn’t letting her use any of his wealth to fund it, she couldn’t afford legal council on the matter. It was dropped. The two of them went off into the sunset, never to be seen again. By court order, under penalty of incarceration.”
Malcolm snarled. “So this bastard just throws away a faithful wife because it doesn’t suit his image? He’s nuts.”
Lisa frowned. “But what if he really believes this.”
“He doesn’t.” Malcolm voice was filled with certainty. “He blocked the paternity test. If he really believed the whole ‘purity of blood’ shtick, he wouldn’t have blocked it. He knew his wife was faithful; he just couldn’t have a hybrid as a child. So he didn’t. If anything, he’s a megalomaniac. And he got seven good men killed.”
“Well, six and a half,” Lisa jibed, “The major was an ass.”
“True, but he didn’t deserve to die,” Malcolm responded. “He was just following his orders, without sufficient evidence to overrule on ethical grounds; he had to do what he did. This whole thing sucks.”
Lisa sat back and nodded at him. “Yeah, but your bones are fixed. And it gets better. You want me to tell her about the kids?”
Agent Davies looked up from the report on the ex-Mrs. Carmichael at that. “Kids?”
Malcolm nodded at Lisa as he took off his shirt and began to unwrap his bandages. Lisa sat back and began to talk. “About a year ago, I got involved with the federal MORFS clinic program. I was going over the records when I found something odd. At the site I was at, there were three cases where the subject just vanished after their symptoms subsided. I went looking for them, because all three were extreme physical transformations. I found them, in the obituaries. When I investigated, I found that they had vanished just like I thought, and about a year later their bodies had turned up. They had been seriously mutilated. I studied the autopsy reports, and the conclusion I came to wasn’t a good one
“Someone out there grabbed these kids out of the clinics and had been experimenting on them. Serious, disturbing, Dr. Mengela type stuff. That’s what killed them, these twisted experiments. They had had implants of some sort, signs of torture, and the bodies had all been opened up and examined once already.”
Lisa sighed, and looked vaguely ill. “That wasn’t the end of it though. I went online and looked through the records. There have been disappearances nationwide, all out of the clinic program. Most of them turn up dead about a year later. About a dozen are still unaccounted for. All of them were extreme or improbable MORFS transformations, or had demonstrated extreme levels of abilities. It looks like someone’s trying to build super-soldiers.”
Malcolm looked at her. “You’re sure?” Agent Davies stared at her in disbelief.
Lisa nodded. “Yes. I don’t have any proof, but the pattern is there, and the damage shown in the autopsies is consistent. Someone is using the MORFS clinics to go shopping for test subjects, and they aren’t nice people. And this Jet and Quartz are perfect candidates for his pattern.”
Malcolm leaned back and sighed. “So we’ve got a four way race. It’s us, trying to catch them to help them, the rest of the feds trying to capture them, the senator trying to kill them, and this bunch of unknowns trying to snatch them for reasons unknown. Wonderful.” He shook his head. Then he sat up. “Agent, does that report give a last known location for their mother?”
Agent Davies head snapped up. “Yes, one second.” She scanned through the file, flipping the pages, looking for the requested information. “Here we go. She was in Chicago, at last report. Why, you think that’s where the twins are going?”
“Yeah,” Malcolm replied, “think about it. They apparently found this out about the same time they underwent MORFS. It would make sense, especially since MORFS is what got their mother ostracized from them.”
Lisa looked thoughtful. “Well, there is another thing. How did they survive MORFS, especially such an extreme case, without at least minimal medical care?”
Agent Davies looked thoughtful. “One second,” she muttered, as she went through her stack of folders. “Here we go; their E-Com records. This would be, what, seven, eight days ago? That’s when the security system went down. Would make sense that they turned it off when they found out.”
Malcolm nodded. “Right, so wha’dya got?”
The three of the hunched over the list. Agent Davies muttered to herself. “Huh. Well, that’s interesting. A few hours before the security system was turned off, they made two calls. First to a Dr. Henry Higgins, and then about an hour later, to one Diane Smith. I can’t really approach either of them, especially if I’m being watched. You guys?”
Malcolm looked at Lisa, and they nodded. “I’ll take the doctor,” Malcolm spoke up.
“Then I’ll find this Diane,” chimed in Lisa.
“But first,” interjected Malcolm, “lets see if we can’t second guess these two. Assuming they’re trying to get to Chicago, how are they going to manage it?”
“Drive?” Lisa suggested.
“No,” Davies opined, “they blew their car up on Overlook Point. Likely to prevent us from tracking it. They left their E-Coms behind for the same reason. They’re trying to go ghost on us. That means using unmonitored transit. So they’ll either steal a car or hitch a ride.”
Lisa looked at the security photo’s of the twins leaving the manor. “Hitchhiking might be tricky given their appearance. They’ll need to stay out of sight.”
Malcolm looked around. Then he noticed the model train sitting on the mantle over Lisa’s fireplace. “Trains. They’ll hitch a ride in a cargo container on a train. Up to Seattle, and then over to Chicago, using the freight lines.”
Agent Davies looked stunned. “Brilliant. It’ll be almost impossible for us to track them.”
Malcolm shook his head. “Don’t track them, track their computer. Quartz had a tablet. She’ll hack herself internet access. More then likely, she hid a bunch of assets to live off of. We need to get up to Seattle, and then we’ll try to find them.”
Agent Davies nodded. “I’ll check in with a few friends on the team, and then put in for some leave. I’ll book us some tickets up to Seattle. Amtrak.”
Lisa laughed. “All right, let’s get going. What time?”
Malcolm shrugged. “Swap numbers, we’ll keep in touch. Let’s go. We’ve got work to do, and I need to get back to base for my things.” He flexed his formerly injured hand. “I want my bike back.”
The three of them nodded, and they headed out. Malcolm observed that the car he noticed down the block was still there. He hoped that the snoops had gotten their earful of white noise. He knew they were being followed. It was time to make some moves of his own, rather then react to other people. Time to start playing this game.
An hour and a cab ride later, he was back on base, just outside of San Francisco. He walked into the computer lab and looked at the technician there, and smiled. “Specialist Franks, good to see you.”
Thin, wiry and balding, David Franks was the resident techie, and used as the research guy, both officially and unofficially, by almost everyone on base. He was also the gossip king of the base. “Hey, Sergeant, I thought you were out of action?”
Malcolm smiled. “I am. I got banged up, and put on indefinite leave. I need some info from you.”
Franks frowned. “Looking for a little revenge, Mal? That’s not like you. I feel bad about what happened, but…”
Malcolm scowled. “No, not revenge. Last night was FUBAR man. I promise, when this is all over, I’ll give you the entire write up, but till then, I gotta keep it under wraps.”
Franks sighed. “Right, so whadda ya need?”
Mal smiled at him. “Info. Doctor Henry Higgins, MD. Who is he, and where does he live?”
Specialist Franks broke out into a broad grin. “Something small, eh? Give me five minutes.” The Specialist promptly pulled out a chair and plopped down in front of his computer. “Scram, go get your gear, find me before you leave, I’ll have your data.”
Malcolm saluted. “Thanks, Franks. I owe you a beer for this.”
The Specialist just nodded. “Take me out clubbing with that lezzie friend of yours some time; we’ll hit up a tittie bar.”
Malcolm just laughed, waved and headed back to his quarters. The first order of business was to change his clothes and get clean. Ten minutes later, he was dressed in a black T-shirt and black cargo pants. He quickly began to pack his bags, including his personal weapons. He made sure he had his sidearm, his knife, and his spare clips. He grabbed his coat out of his closet, and headed down to the armory.
Once downstairs, he grabbed his less utilitarian weaponry. An MP5 and a M82A1M. Old weapons, but effective. He took out several boxes of ammo for each. The supply sergeant gave him an odd look, but he informed him that he was on special assignment, and would have little time to re-supply. He took the weapons back to his room, and stowed them in the concealment carrier for his bike. It looked like a standard rifle case, and any inspection would show a simple antique Winchester, disabled, inside. It has a biometric lock, as befitted a carrying case for an antique, and was very secure. It was his favorite souvenir off of any of the ops he had been on.
He grabbed his duffel and the gun case, and headed down to the motor pool. He checked out his bike, a newer Honda model that ran on the same Bio-diesel derivative that the army and most trucks used. He would have to fuel it at truck stops, but the thing wasn’t quite as combustible as the standard fuel cell auto or bike, and had a hell of a lot more punch in the engine department. He strapped the luggage onto the bike, and headed down to the computer lab.
Specialist Franks was waiting for him. “Mal, you’ve got problems.” Malcolm raised an eyebrow, and the Specialist continued. “Your doc’s dead.”
Malcolm frowned. “Huh. That’s irritating. How?”
“Car crash, on his way back from a house call or something. Salicia cops have the case. You going to look into it?”
Malcolm shrugged. “Not sure. I’ve got a little R&R to catch up on,” he lied, “this’ll keep.”
Franks laughed. “Well, don’t let it lie too long. The smell can get terrible.”
The two soldiers shared a laugh, and then Malcolm headed out. He was lost in thought as he headed back to Salicia. This was unfortunate. He needed to find out what happened to that doctor, and what he was doing when he died. Hopefully Lisa was having better luck.
Lisa was standing outside of a modest house in what amounted to the poor part of Salicia. That meant that the properties were valued at less then two million dollars, so she supposed that poor was subjective in this case. The house she was looking at was very nice, and what was better, she could call it a house; unlike some of the miniature mansions she had seen on the way over here.
This particular dwelling was modest, homey, and altogether lovely. She wouldn’t mind retiring to a place like this, one day. Then again, there were a lot of things that she wouldn’t mind that weren’t going to happen. She straitened her blouse, and got out of her car to meet the Smiths.
She wasn’t wearing Lisa today. She had changed her clothes before she left her house, and even more telling she had changed her face. She had several faces, and while she identified herself as Lisa, and had even defined a face for herself (an idealized version of herself, thank you very much, her abilities to manipulate bodies wasn’t going to be wasted), she had set up a series of additional ‘faces’ that had names and personalities of their own. She used them like garments, putting them on and taking them off as easily as she would a dress. For this little meeting, she had decided to wear Maggie.
Maggie was an elegant, shapely black woman in her early twenties. Stunningly beautiful, with a white caduceus tattoo on the back of her right hand, and ankle length ebony hair, she was a favorite of Lisa’s for a night on the town. She really did enjoy watching men hit on her and seeing the expression when she turned them down, or frenched another woman. It was an entertaining diversion. She wondered just what this Diane looked like. It might be amusing to ask her out.
She shook her head as she walked up to the door. Head on the business. Keep your mind out of the gutter. She shook her head and let her hair fall down her back. Approaching the door, she rang the bell and stood up straight. *All right Lisa, here we go* she thought to herself, as the door opened.
The first thing that struck her was that the very pretty young woman who opened the door was making her hot. The second was that she wasn’t in her real shape. The third was that this was Diane Smith.
“Hello?” Diane asked the strange black woman who had rung the bell. She was confused as to who this was. She didn’t look like a Jehovah ’s Witness or a saleslady.
Lisa shook herself mentally, and held out a hand to Diane. “Hi, I’m Maggie. I’m looking for a Diane Smith, are you she?”
Diane nodded, suddenly nervous. “Yes… What’s this about?”
“Can we talk inside?” Lisa wanted a little more privacy then standing on the street. No telling who the neighbors were.
“I’d like to know what this is about first.” Diane had her mental feet under her, and wasn’t having any.
“It’s about a private matter, dear. I’d like to get inside where we can take our masks off.” Lisa played a bit of a risk with that, but she was hoping to get this done quickly. Unfortunately this wasn’t to be.
“Di, who is it?” A male voice called out from inside the house. A large, well muscled man with big feathery wings walked up behind Diane. “And you are?” he asked.
Lisa noted that he was quite handsome. Male beauty was a bit of an abstract concept for her, but still, she could pick a few things up from her colleagues. “I’m here to ask a few questions about the Carmichael twins. I’d rather we had this conversation in private.”
Diane and the winged youth exchanged a look. Diane spoke up first. “All right, come on in. We’ll talk.” They both wore guarded expressions, and Diane was being very defensive. They led her into very comfortable living room, and they seated themselves on the couch. From the way they sat together, Lisa deduced that they were lovers. Pity that. Lisa sat in an easy chair that wasn’t quite opposite them. She had decided to try to minimize the adversarial tone this encounter had started on.
Once they were all seated, Diane spoke up. “So, Maggie, what do you want to know about J, Sam and Dan?” She covered it quickly, but Lisa noticed the slip. She decided not to call her on it.
“I want to know why the twins called you right after Doctor Higgins left, and before they turned off the security system, and why you don’t show up on it.”
The two teens exchanged a quick look, and the winged one spoke up. “I don’t know exactly what you’re implying…” He trailed off at a look from Lisa.
Lisa sighed. She hated this part. “Alright you two, here’s the drill. I know you know something. Exactly what it is, I don’t know, but it’s there. Now, I’m not a fed, or a cop, or any kind of agent. I’m just a girl doing her best to help some kids that look like they’re in trouble.” The two kids on the couch traded looks again. Lisa sighed. “Here, I’ll relax for you.” She concentrated for a moment, and shifted back into her ‘normal’ form.
The thing about shape shifting, as far as Lisa could tell, was that anything you did was permanent, unless you decided to change it. At least if you were as strong as she was. She could always tell when she wasn’t in her ‘normal’ shape, her skin felt like it was slightly too small, but it took no real effort or concentration to maintain. To shift her form away from her normal form, or just away from the form she was in, took effort, and it took deliberate concentration to revert back. But staying in any one form took no real effort, and once she had taken the time to make a given shape one of her ‘faces’ the amount of effort it took to shift lessened dramatically.
In her case, her ‘normal’ form wasn’t the form she had been born in, it was the improved model. In addition to being a shape shifter, she was also a powerful Bio-Elemental. Sufficiently powerful, in fact, that she didn’t even age unless she wanted to. Physically, she hadn’t allowed her body to age since she had figured out how to stop it, and had even repaired some of the damage age had started doing to her. That little trick wasn’t something she bruited about, as her ability to affect similar effects on others was highly limited.
So in her case, she just relaxed a little, concentrating of looking normal, and felt her body flow back into its normal shape. She opened her eyes and looked at Diane. “Now then, why don’t you just relax and look normal, eh?”
Diane blanched, and looked at her lover. He shrugged at her, and she sighed. She closed her eyes and her body flowed into the shape of a very beautiful young woman with large breasts and pink hair. Lisa stared at her dusky skin, captivated by the sudden tightness of her shirt. “How did you know?” Diane asked. Her voice was the same.
Lisa sighed. “I’m a bio-elemental. A very strong one.”
The boyfriend looked at her. “How strong.”
She grinned. “Strong enough to know that you two are alone in this house and that you were about to get, hmm, intimate before I interrupted. Which is very distracting, by the way.”
Diane smirked back. “Lusting after my boyfriend, Maggie?”
Lisa’s grin widened. “No, dear, lusting after you.” The two of them had satisfactorily shocked expressions on their faces. “Now, while I have you distracted,” Lisa sailed on, “let me explain what I think happened here.” The two of them sat there and recovered, and waited for Lisa to go on.
She waited for a moment to ensure they were listening and then began. “I think that the good doctor proclaimed the young Carmichael boys MORFS positive, and issued scripts for the usual energy packs and sedatives. It’s interesting how the medical community treats MORFS like an inconvenient cold these days. Nothing to worry about, except in odd cases. But anyways, I figure that the twins asked you to go get their prescriptions, and then turned off the security system so you could get in and keep an eye on them during the change, am I right?”
The expression of shock on both of their faces told her that she was correct, and the boyfriend’s reaction told her that he was there as well. Curiouser and curiouser. She fixed them both with what she hoped was a firm stare. “Ok, I need you two to tell me what happened, all right?”
The two of them exchanged a look. Diane sighed and spoke up, “Right, well, you’re right, I suppose. A week back I got a call from Dan, saying that they had just been diagnosed with MORFS and to come over and pick up the prescription and fill it. Of course I did it. I’ve known the guys for years, ever since I moved here, and I owed them. So I went and got them the prescription and brought it back. I also brought Brian along,” she nodded at her boyfriend. “So when I got back, they said that they had turned off the security, and showed me a file that Dan had found when he used his father’s computer to turn off the security system. Apparently, he had forgotten to log off. The file was about their mother and sister…” she trailed off.
Lisa interrupted, “I’ve seen the file.”
Diane nodded, and Brian snarled, “So you know what that bastard did to his daughter?”
Lisa just nodded, and motioned for Diane to continue. “Well, the guys decided to just get it over with. I was keeping an eye on Sam, while Brian made sure that nothing unfortunate happened to Dan. It was odd, watching them change. Well, long story short, four days later Sam was a jet black woman with wings. Great big rack too. I was jealous.”
Diane looked mildly wistful, and Lisa just smirked. “If you want to, you could give yourself a rack just like hers, you know.”
Diane grinned. “I know, but that would be cheating. Anyways, me and Brian did a few things to help them adapt.” At Lisa’s inquiring expression, she explained, “I helped them with their wardrobe, and then I used a little trick of mine to try to read their powers…”
Lisa looked up, abruptly fascinated. “And the results were?”
Diane looked chagrined. “Mixed. Jet had some kind of weird elemental power. It was very narrow in scope, but strong as hell. She was also an illusionist and a minor precognitive. Quartz was another elemental that I’ve never seen before, as well as two others big ones that I think are physical enhancements. That and getting into their heads hurt like hell. If I wasn’t piggybacking on my empathy, I don’t think I would have gotten in. Some kind of link between their minds that makes it impossible to access their minds at anything deeper then a surface level. After it was all over the two of us went home, and that was the end of it till I saw that great big explosion up on the bluffs. So what happened up there?”
Lisa grinned. “Special forces were ordered to assassinate the twins. Their father apparently thought that they were terrorists who had kidnapped his sons. They put a bullet between Quartz’s eyes.” Lisa paused while Diane and her boyfriend looked panicked. Then she smirked. “All it did was annoy her. I don’t know all the details, but all but one of the soldiers who were on the team died, and the twins bailed. They took a jeep up to Overlook Point, blew it up, and vanished. We think that they’re trying to get to Chicago to find their mother.”
“And when you find them,” Brian asked, “What then?”
“We try to clear them. There’s a setup going down here, and I try to flatten those when I run into them.”
Diane looked troubled. “And the real feds? The army?”
“The feds think that they’re a pair of delusional MORFS victims who, in their delusion, think that they’re the senator’s sons, and have killed the twins and are attempting to replace them. The DNA sample in the senator’s security file has been altered and it doesn’t match the two of them any more.”
Diane looked shocked. “But we saw them change. We could prove that they are who they are.”
Lisa shook her head. “If you came forward, they would say that the delusional twins have twisted your mind with telepathy or something. We need physical confirmation, and we need the two of them in hand to confirm your story. But if it gets out that you two can confirm the story, then there are people out there who would be happy to kill you to keep the senator’s reputation intact. Keep your heads down.”
Brian nodded. “That explains the packages.” At Lisa’s confused look, he continued. “We got a package with most of their old things and a letter asking us to keep the stuff safe, and telling us to keep our heads down.”
Lisa nodded. “Put it in storage, and act normal. If the feds question you, tell them that you were invited over for a small get together and stayed overnight, then left. But don’t volunteer anything. If they miss you, and they might, stay out of the public eye and keep that stuff in the attic or something.” Lisa stood up, and put Maggie back on. “I hope the next time I see you it’s under better circumstances.”
As she was leaving, she shook her head. Well, they had their confirmation, for all the good it did. Now they just needed to find these kids. As she got into her car, she pulled out her phone and hit the speed dial for Malcolm. They needed to talk.
Quartz was jolted awake by a sudden movement, and a loud series of noises right by her head. She sat up suddenly, and found a hand pressed against her mouth. A moment of panic passes before she realized that it was Jet, and that the freight car they were in was open. Her eyes widened in fright, and Jet motioned for her to stay still. Slowly, Jet took her hand away from her mouth and motioned for her to not move. She lay there, still in her clothes, and watched as men began to unload the pallets concealing them. They lay there, in full view, as the loading crews removed all the cargo from the car. The rather irate leader of the train yard workers addressed an individual out of view.
“Now are you satisfied. Nothing in here but dust, ye can see the back wall yerself. Happy?”
There was a soft murmur from around the bend, and headman “Harumphed” and ordered, “Load’er back up boys, the agent is done here.”
Then the loading crew began carting the large pallets of boxes wrapped in plastic back into the car. This time the loading crew didn’t leave any real spaces between the pallets and their exit was quickly blocked, sealing them in. The noises of loading continued for some time before they heard the doors close again. The conversation they had overheard was enlightening. Once she was reasonably certain they wouldn’t be overheard, Quartz let out a loud gasp, and looked at her sister. “What the hell?” she whispered.
Jet managed to look both relieved and smug. “I had been up for about an hour, and had been practicing with my abilities, trying to get a handle on them, when I heard them coming. I saw what was going to happen, so I took a risk. I made a wall.”
Quartz gave her sister a look. “A wall?”
Jet held out her hand. “Like this.” Suddenly there was a bit of metal container wall floating above Jet’s hand. “About half an hour before they got here I finally figured out how to use the illusionist trick deliberately. I was just trying stuff more complicated than colored bits of fog when I heard them, so I tried making a wall just like the rear wall of the car between us and them.”
Quartz was impressed. Achieving that level of control over a power that fast was unheard of. “How?” Quartz was interested in learning how she had managed it, because she badly wanted to gain similar mastery of her own abilities.
Jet shrugged. “Hard to explain. I knew it was there, like a muscle that you know you can use. Like learning to wink, I suppose. Just a matter of isolating and utilizing the right set of signals to the body.”
Quartz sighed. “More of your Kung Fu again.”
“Yup.” Jet shrugged, knowing how useless that was to her sister. “Still, I can go over the basics with you, but we may want to wait until we get somewhere safer.”
Quartz sighed. “True. Illusion and super speed is one thing, but my tricks are a little more hazardous to the environment.”
Jet nodded, but Quartz could sense a current of disappointment in her sister. “I don’t want you to feel second best or anything…” Jet trailed off.
Quartz shrugged. “Have you noticed that we seem to be feeding off of each other?”
Jet cocked her head, and then nodded. “You’re right. I hadn’t really noticed. I can tell, somehow, what you’re feeling. That it’s irritating, but that you don’t blame me.”
Quartz levered herself up and leaned against one of the pallets. “Remember what Diane said, that we were linked?” At Jet’s nod, she continued, “Well, I think this is a manifestation of that. I mean, before, you were waving your hand at me, and I had no idea what the gesture meant, but I knew that you wanted me to stay still. And that you were scared spitless.”
Jet sat down opposite her sister, and snapped a new glow stick to illuminate the car. “And I knew when you woke up, and exactly where you were in the dark just now.”
Quartz sighed. “So I guess its useless hiding from you just how terrified this makes me?”
Jet laughed. “I think we can safely say that we’re both in need of some venting.”
They both were, in fact, about to break down. The impact of the last twenty-four hours was hitting them, and the weight of their emotions was crushing. Without further conversation, Quartz moved over next to her sister and they rested on each other, and they cried. They cried for the injustice that had been done to them, they cried for the cruelty of their father, they cried for the loss of their mother and sister, and they cried for the men they had killed. They lost track of time while they vented their emotions.
It was some unknown time later when they finally stopped. Not so much because the pain was gone, but because there just weren’t any tears left. Jet hugged her sister, and murmured, “I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.”
Quartz hugged her back. “What, cried like a girl?” They both giggled a little, and Quartz continued, “If you haven’t noticed, we’re girls now. No shame in venting a bit between sisters.”
Jet shuddered. “I just keep seeing those three soldiers. The looks on their faces while I slit their throats…” She trailed off into silence.
Quartz just held her. “They were trying to kill us, Jet. You defended yourself.”
Jet sniffed. “I know. Hell, I saw them kill me. I just think that, looking back, I could have kept them alive, disabled them or something.”
Quartz shook her head. “Hindsight is twenty/twenty, you know that. You reacted. We’ve had our abilities for less then a week, and while they give us a lot of power, we really don’t know what we’re doing. You did what you had to, to survive. Learn from it, regret it. That’s what makes you human. If you didn’t feel bad, then I’d really be worried.”
Jet looked at her sister. “What about you. I saw what you did to the ones who came after you.”
Quartz shrugged. “Actually, I tried to disable them. I killed them instead. Does that hurt, hell yes. What do I take away from it? That I need to learn to control my abilities, so it doesn’t happen again. Think about it. When you were taking all those martial arts classes, what was the first lesson they taught you, after the basics.”
Jet closed her eyes. “How to use what I learned responsibly, in a controlled way, so I didn’t do any more damage then I wanted to.”
“Exactly. That’s what we need to do. Learn control. We have enormous ability; we need to learn to control what we have.”
Jet sighed. “So what do we have, exactly?”
Quartz leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “Well, we have whatever minor ability it is that lets us fly, our link, and our improved bodies.”
Jet sighed, and nodded. “Not that we know exactly what our physical changes are, completely. We really need to find a way to have that checked…”
“Considering that apparently we’re wanted murderers now; getting that done might be tricky.”
“True.”
Quartz sighed, and closed her eyes. “So, me, I have that weird energy blast thing, which I need to learn how to control. Apparently, I’m bullet proof, and that’s something that I’d rather not learn the limitations on the hard way. And I can magnify my strength by some unknown amount, but at least enough to accidentally turn a normal human head into mush. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out.” She laughed lightly.
Jet chuckled. “Yeah, well, I’m a precognitive. Can’t seem to see more then a few seconds ahead, but it’s always been detailed and accurate. Just need to learn how to do more then see disasters. I can make lights, sounds, smells, and heat, and I can slow down time.” She shook her head. “Sounds so different.”
Quartz nodded. “Light and shadow. Just like always, we’re mirrors.”
Jet just nodded.
There was a long silence. Then Jet spoke up. “So, Chicago, eh?”
Quartz nodded. “Figured if we have to run, we may as well look for mom and Sarah.”
Jet stood up and opened the bag with the food in it. She tossed Quartz a sandwich, and grabbed one herself. “Good idea. We need to find them, straighten things out.”
Quartz checked her watch, and found that it was just after noon. “Well, we’re going to be stuck here for a while, any ideas?”
Jet sat down and, in-between bites of her sandwich, said, “Practice, I would think.”
The two of them sat there and ate, thinking of what they were stuck in. It wasn’t a good situation. But they would survive. The alternative wasn’t really an option.
Overlook Point was overrun with agents, and the cadaverous man in the black overcoat drew no undue attention as he stood at the edge of the parking lot. He walked over to the crater that was all that remained of one of the nicer lookouts in the park. He cannot help but be impressed by the thoroughness of the subjects in their escape. They will make excellent weapons, he thinks, once they have been subdued. All these animals were the same, thinking that they were still human. He shook his head and headed back to the van he had come in, and headed down the road to the Carmichael estate. He looked down the driveway.
Even more silly agents. Them and their rules. They insisted on treating these things like they were still people. They weren’t. Their human soul was killed by the disease, all that was left was the animal meat, suitable only for whatever use the true humans had for it. These things would make excellent additions to his weapons array. But first to apprehend them. He made a quick phone call, asking one of his sympathizers to bring him some samples. Then he sat back to wait. There was a shuffling from the back of the van, and he soothed the beast waiting back there, with promises of the hunt.
About half an hour later, a harried looking agent came up to the passenger window of the van. He was holding a pair of nightgowns. One was spattered in blood, the other was torn to shreds. He handed them to the shadowed man, and walked back to the estate. The man looked at the samples and smiled. These would do nicely. He drove the van away from the estate and parked in a secluded side street, where he would have privacy, and exited the van, taking the samples with him.
He walked around to the rear of the van, and opened the doors. The beast lunged at him, only to be stopped short by the implants and the collar fastened to its neck. The man shook his head. When would it learn? It wasn’t a person any more, it was a hunting beast. “Wolf. Heel, Wolf.” He threw the samples in front of the beast. It slowly reached down and clutched them in one massive clawed hand. “Hunt them down, Wolf. Disable, do not kill.” The beast snarled at him, and then shuddered in pain. For a minute it fought the programming, and then it got out of the van. It stood to its full eight feet, stretching its long, furred limbs and clenching and un-clenching its taloned hands. Its feet dug furrows into the dirt of the lawn it was standing on. It snapped its jaws a few times, and turned its great head to look at the thin man. The hate in those eyes was overwhelming, but the man just laughed softly. “Hunt, Wolf.”
The beast snarled, and shook its great wolf like head, and brought the samples up to its nose. It took a sniff and then bounded off on all fours. The hunt was on. It was only a matter of time now. The Wolf was his greatest success. It would not fail to bring these two new beasts to heel, and then he would add them to his project. It would be a great success, especially after so many failures. There was no other possible outcome.
Malcolm walked into the train station and looked around. He spotted Lisa standing over by the newsstand and walked over to her. “Hey, toots.”
She turned and smiled at him. “Toots? Who talks like that?”
Malcolm shrugged. “Do we have tickets?”
Lisa nodded. “Agent Davies is getting them as we speak.”
Malcolm nodded. “Where do I check my bike? I need it brought up with me.”
Lisa pointed at one of the counters. “That’s the guy. You’ll have to pay though; Davies can’t really explain that one.”
Malcolm shrugged and headed over to make the appropriate arrangements. He then took his bag and gun case off the bike and let the attendants take it around to the cargo area to be loaded into the freight cars going along for the ride. When he got back, Lisa and agent Davies were both standing by the time board, obviously waiting for him. He waved to them and walked up. “Hey, what’s up?”
Agent Davies smiled at him. “We have our own car, a sleeper coach. The Bureau decided to reimburse me for the vacation; just to make extra sure I stayed out of their hair.” She smirked. “I think that my immediate supervisor likes what’s going down here about as much as I do.”
Lisa and Malcolm both laughed, and Malcolm bowed to the two ladies. “Shall we?” The two females giggled a bit at his exaggerated gallantry, and proceeded to the train.
There was a bit of a hold up at security, while Malcolm gave his little speech about the disabled Winchester in his gun case, but after that, they got through with no trouble. Once they were in the car, Lisa raised an eyebrow at Malcolm. “A disabled Winchester?”
Malcolm laughed. “Well…” he temporized, “there is actually a Winchester in there. But no, that’s not all. Just being prepared.”
Lisa smiled. “Prepared for what?”
Malcolm’s expression turned serious. “Anything.”
The car got very quiet as the implications of that answer sunk in, and before anyone could break the silence, the train started up with a lurch. The three of them looked out the windows as they departed the station. Then agent Davies spoke up. “They’re close.”
Lisa and Malcolm swiveled to face her. “The twins,” Malcolm said.
Davies nodded. “We’re the last passenger car in the train, but there’s someone in the next car over.”
Lisa looked confused. “But that’s a freight car…”
Malcolm nodded. “Exactly. They’re train hopping. Hard as hell to track. Can you confirm?”
Agent Davies shook her head no. “I know that there are two of them, and that they’re both doing something, but I cant get any deeper. It’s like there’s a shifting whenever I try to get into their heads. I could probably communicate with them, but I can’t get any deeper to confirm their identities.”
Malcolm shrugged, and Lisa nodded. “Diane said that it was extremely painful to read them, and that was right after they finished changing. Something about their minds being linked somehow and it causing interference.”
Davies suddenly looked pleased. “That makes sense; they’re shielding each other by hiding their thoughts under each others. I doubt they even realize their doing it.”
Malcolm shrugged. “However fascinating, it’s irrelevant. What are they doing?”
Davies closed her eyes. “Practicing, I think. One of them is lifting weights, the other is drawing. Or at least that’s the mental analogies they’re using.”
Malcolm nodded. “The one lifting weights is likely Quartz, and the drawing is likely Jet. They’re attempting to get more detailed control over their abilities. Seems like I could get to like these kids.”
Lisa nodded. “So, is agent Davies going to introduce herself?”
Lisa and Malcolm looked at the FBI agent, and she shrugged. “No reason why not, I know they’re innocent of everything but defending themselves. Give me a minute to get comfortable.” She seated herself in a armchair, and closed her eyes, preparing to make mental contact with the twins.
Quartz was lying on her back, her breasts jutting up into the air, and with both her hands stretched over her head. Her legs were splayed out, and she was panting heavily, her sweat making her hair stick to her head. She was trying to lift the pallets of boxes using as little of her power as possible. It was hard. Her natural impulse was to use her gift at its full strength, or not at all. Moderating the force she exerted was proving to be a challenge, but she had made progress. She was slowly gaining confidence in her ability to not cause any damage to her surrounding that she didn’t intend. And she had only dented the roof once.
Jet was practicing her illusions. She had already mastered the ability to make any image she could picture. She was now working on making them move. This was proving more difficult. They moved, but it was jerky and artificial looking. Right now she had the image of a body builder having sex with her sister’s body. It was amusing to watch.
The train had just gotten underway, and they were on their way to Seattle. The two of them had barely noticed. They were rather wound up in their practice, when suddenly a voice intruded in their heads. *Excuse me, am I intruding?*
Jet lost the illusion, and it vanished in a blink. Quartz dropped the pallet with a thud. They looked at each other, sensing each other’s panic. The voice came back. *Peace, chill, calm down. I’m on your side.*
They looked at each other, and Quartz said, “Who are you?”
The voice laughed. *My name is Nora. And you don’t need to talk aloud.*
Jet smiled. “Talking aloud lets us hear what the other is saying to you. And you didn’t answer the question. Who are you Nora?”
Nora laughed again. *I’m an FBI agent in the car right next to yours. And before you panic, I know you’re innocent and I know you really are the Carmichael twins.*
Quartz traded a look with Jet. “No offense, but why the hell should we believe you?”
Jet chimed in. “Yeah, for all we know, you’re just trying to buy time for your buddies to stop the train and isolate us.”
Nora’s voice was silent for a moment, and then came back feeling both tired and proud. *Very clever, you two. You definitely live up to your reputation. How about I tell you everything that I know about your case, as I learned it, and you can make up your own minds.*
Jet and Quartz exchanged another look. “Why not,” Quartz said, “let’s hear your story.”
The twins seated themselves and Nora’s voice started to play back the story of the last day in their minds.
Wolf ran next to the train. He was off in the woods, and was paralleling the train. The scent of his targets was in there. He could just rip into the car they were in and attack them, but that would make a mess, and break secrecy, and his controller wouldn’t allow that. He was tempted to do it anyway, but he knew better. It would just hurt, and he wouldn’t get anything accomplished. He needed to get on that train, and wait until the twins got off. Silently, he leapt to one of the freight cars trailing the train. He leaned over and unlocked the door, swung inside and closed it behind himself. He curled up next to the motorcycle and went to sleep. A good peaceful rest would be so nice. It had been so long since he had had any peace. He inhaled deeply, and let the smell of dust and motor oil fill his nostrils. In moments he was at rest, letting his mind drift away from the horrors his life had become.
Agent Davies lay back in her chair and continued her mental discussion with the twins. *So, that’s the story. Now the question. Do you believe me.*
Quartz’s voice echoed in her head. *I suppose so. There were too many details there about Diane and Brian in there.*
Agent Davies smiled. *Well, I’m glad that you believe me, if not trust me.*
Jet’s voice came back, *We don’t trust much of anyone at this point, Nora.*
*Which is understandable, really, given recent events. Do you understand the implications of what Lisa, Malcolm and I have discovered?*
Quartz responded, *Yeah. We’ve got two enemies here, apparently.*
*Just two?*
Jet’s mental voice was dry. *Yeah, Father and the mystery men. Everyone else is just a dupe, or just doing their job. Solve the problem of father and these weirdoes and everyone else should just stop.*
*Well, that’s a refreshingly direct way of looking at it. We’ll be around, and try to keep things from getting out of control. You are heading to Chicago?* At the affirmative thought, Davies continued. *Then stick around Seattle for a bit. We’ll try to work out a way for you to ride in a real train car next time, eh? What are you doing for a toilet anyways?*
Quartz’ mental laugh was infectious. *I punched a hole in the floor. And there’s plenty of toilet paper here.*
Agent Davies actually laughed. *You have my number. Call me when you settle down. We’ll meet later. Stay safe.*
She opened her eyes, as the farewells of the twins echoed in her head, and looked at her companions. “Well, it’s them. They are an impressive pair.”
Malcolm just nodded. Lisa was smirking. “I want a look at them, if only to do a physical scan.”
Davies shrugged. “That may be difficult. The more contact we have with them, the greater the odds of them being exposed. To be perfectly honest, we’ll have more luck helping them working this from the other end.”
Malcolm shrugged. “True enough. But we should stay nearby. If we can get some samples and what have you, that would help.”
Lisa nodded. “If worst comes to worst, I can run a paternity on the father using their DNA.”
Malcolm nodded. “Well, in any event. There’s nothing we can do till we get to Seattle. We may as well relax until then.”
It was twenty hours till Seattle, and a long trip, and they spent it making plans.
After Nora had left, so to speak, Jet leaned back and tossed a bottle of water to Quartz. Quartz nodded in thanks and pulled out her tablet. “Think I’ll spend some time getting to know our new town.”
Jet looked a question at her. “We’ll spend some time in Seattle getting our heads wrapped around the situation. I’m looking for a place to hang our hats.”
Jet walked over and looked over her shoulder. “How you gonna manage that?”
Quartz smirked. “Municipal project advocacy. It’s a wonderful thing, really. You see, when ever a new major improvement or addition to an existing system is made, the public contracting laws require endless debate and publication of the plans. If you spend the time, you can find all sorts of abandoned properties and storage facilities we can use for all sorts of things.”
Jet smiled. “So you go through and find us a nice abandoned hidey hole.”
Quartz grinned again. “Yup. Preferably one we can leech power and water in. I want my toys to work.”
Jet smiled. “Just so I can take a crap in something other then a hole in the floor, eh?”
Quartz laughed. “No problem. Now make me a light and keep working on your moving porno.”
Jet laughed, but went back to practicing. As she was working on recreating a fight scene from one of their favorite movies in miniature, a thoughtful expression came across her face. “Hey, you know, I think I can make a disguise with this.”
Quartz didn’t look up, but her tone was intrigued. “What’da mean?”
Jet shook her head. “Look, you know how I made that fake wall, and it was transparent from our side?” At Quartz’s nod, she continued. “Well, I’ve been trying to figure out how I did it. I think I have it. I made a wall that was impermeable to light coming from our direction, and permeable to light coming from the other. Then I made the impermeable direction emit light that matched the light reflected off of the back wall. Make sense?”
Quartz shrugged. “Yeah, but I don’t know how much that means. I’m no physicist. I have no idea how we do the things we do.”
Jet shrugged, but continued. “So what if I do that around me. I mean, make a shell like that wall, shaped like my skin, and made the outside look like a normal guy.”
Quartz smiled. “Make that gal, and you’ve got a good idea. Unless you want to explain why your ‘guy’ has obsidian breasts jutting out of his shirt.”
They both laughed at that, and Jet nodded. “I’m gonna work on it.”
Quartz nodded again, once more immersed in her search for their own place. The two of them knuckled down and focused on their respective tasks. The rest of the trip passed in companionable focus on mutually beneficial goals.
In the baggage car, Wolf slept, and in a facility hidden away, the thin man was smiling. They were headed to Seattle. Good, the Feds were focusing all of their efforts on San Francisco. There would be no trouble snatching them out of Seattle. He made some calls, and got some of his men moving up there, just in case Wolf wasn’t able to bring them down. His dog would bring them to bay, but no good hunter ever relied on just one weapon. So it would happen in Seattle. He had always liked that city. The weather up there suited his temperament.
When the white and black subjects were brought in, he would be ready to welcome them, and teach them their new place in the world. As his tools.
As Weapons.
END CHAPTER FOUR
In this, the twins arrive in Seattle, and make plans. And so do their pursuers. But now the twins have a chance to take a breath, and to plan for the future. Only time can tell if their ingenuity can overcome the forces arrayed against them.
For the rest of the universe, go here.
By: Darian Deamos
Chapter Five: Finding Center
Wolf looked around and sighed. It had been just over a day, and he was glad of the respite, but he needed to get off of the train before it got to Seattle. It was too bad that the collar kept him from actively betraying anything, or he would have done something here, but even the thought of leaving some blood on the ground had frozen him. He turned and opened the back of the car, and leaned out into the whipping wind, looking around, and then he hauled himself up, closed and re-locked the door, and leapt off into the trees of the right of way.
There was a crashing sound as he hit, and then silence. Moment’s later a dark form rose in the late afternoon woods and sprinted after the train.
Speeding away from this unannounced and un-remarked departure, the train buzzed along its rails. In the forward most freight car Jet and Quartz were sitting, planning for their imminent arrival in the emerald city. “So,” Jet was saying, “do we have a house?”
Quartz looked up from her tablet. “Sorta.” She grimaced. “We have a place, and it looks alright, the problem is going to be getting from here to there.”
Jet raised an eyebrow.
“Other side of the city from the train station.”
Jet’s mouth made and ‘O’. “And we aren’t even out of the car…”
Quartz looked up. “Can you do that thing with the one way wall again?”
Jet looked puzzled. “Sure, now that I know what I’m doing, it’s rather simple.” Her look of confusion
cleared. “Oh, I get it. No problem.”
Quartz leaned back and powered her tablet off. “Good, then I’m going to wait till our telepathic ‘friend’ gets back.”
A voice in both their heads chimed in, *I’m hurt, you don’t trust me?*
Jet chuckled. “There are degrees of trust, my dear. We trust you wish to help us, we do not yet trust that your idea of ‘help’ is the same as ours.”
*My, my, suspicious a little, aren’t we?*
Quartz grinned mirthlessly, “Do you blame us?”
A mental chuckle is an odd thing to experience, second only to the telepathic shrug. Quartz thought it sort of tickled. *Not at all. If you DID trust me off the bat, I’d be a bit more concerned for your safety. Now, the doctor I’m with wants me to tell you that she would very much like to meet you. I’ve reserved rooms at the Edgewater, so I’m sure you can find us. You have your own housing arrangements I take it?*
Jet smiled, “The Edgewater, eh? I think we can find it.” She looked at Quartz and then nodded. “We’ll see you tomorrow night then.”
There was a moment of silence, and then their unseen conspirator replied, *All right, that will give us some time to play tourist, and to pick up some presents for you two. I’ll see you then. In the flesh this time, eh?* There was no overt sign, but the twins got the distinct impression that Nora had left.
Quartz raised an ivory brow at her sister. “Presents eh? And it isn’t even our birthday.” She opened her hand and very slowly drew a small white orb into existence over her palm. Then she looked at her sister, smiled, and crushed it. “Back to waiting.”
Davies looked up as the train pulled into King St Station, and the FBI agent got out of the shower on the
sleeper car that she had shared with her two traveling companions. She winced a bit as Lisa walked by, and tried to hide it. Unfortunately, Lisa caught it.
“What,” she asked, very quietly.
Davies blushed. “Nothing. Or at least nothing you did wrong. I’m just not used to getting fantasies about me colored in quite that way.”
Lisa just laughed. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just the way I am. I’ll try to keep it under wraps, alright?”
Davies smiled slightly. “All right, just don’t be quite so, huh, loud, about it, mm?”
Lisa chuckled under her breath and the vague images that Davies was getting from her suddenly switched to a different woman. Lisa walked into the bathroom to clean up before they disembarked, and Davies sat down at the table, and grabbed a left over sandwich.
“Lisa giving you fits, Agent?” Malcolm asked. He had his case open and was doing maintenance on the massive rifle he had concealed within.
“How anyone can be that, that…” Davies trailed off in search of the right word.
“Horny?” Malcolm smiled. “Don’t be surprised. MORFS gave you green hair. It gave Lisa a sex drive that puts a teenage boy to shame. She’s actually very lucky that she such a powerful Bio-elemental. If she wasn’t, she’d have half a dozen kids and a VD or three by now, the way she goes through bedmates.”
Lisa’s amused voice came from the bathroom over the sound of running water. “You weren’t complaining before, soldier-boy.”
“I’m not complaining, just stating the facts,” Malcolm called back. Then, in a lower tone of voice, “it really isn’t her fault. She’s actually gotten a lot better about it. The one telepath we knew in high school said that being around her was like watching a playboy channel lesbian marathon.”
Davies laughed. “I know what he meant. It’s just a little weird to see me in one of the starring rolls.”
Lisa walked out. “Oh, why, you have the nicest body. That hair of yours makes you quite exotic.”
Davies shook her head. “You are completely incorrigible, you fiend. Come on, we need to get moving, or we’ll wind up heading back to San Francisco.”
Malcolm put his weapon away and closed the case. “Yes, fiend, come. We have a new city to corrupt.” Lisa laughed, and the three of them left the train and walked out over the platform to head to the baggage claim. Malcolm headed over to an attendant to retrieve his bike from the car it had been packed on, and the two girls sat down to wait for their luggage to arrive. When it did, they got their bags, including Malcolm’s, and then caught a cab to the Edgewater. Malcolm would meet them there.
Malcolm followed the attendant out into the train yard to get his bike out. When he got there, he frowned, and then looked up into the back of the car it was next to. He motioned for the handlers to pause for a second, and then hopped up and stared at the ground. Carefully, he scooped up the few small hairs he had spotted.
He called down to the chief stockyards man, “Hey, anyone bring a dog carrier on here? Large breed, black?”
The crew chief frowned down at his clipboard, and shook his head. “No, sir. I don’t know where that came from sir. It may be from a previous run.”
Malcolm nodded. “That must be it. Thanks for checking, chief.” He sounded dismissive, but he pocketed the hairs. He was frowning under his helmet as he started up his bike, and headed out. As he punched the address of the Edgewater into the bikes navigator, he was going over the possibilities. There hadn’t been any hairs there when he had rolled the bike in there in San Francisco. And there definitely hadn’t been one stuck in the join of the saddle on his bike. It looked like there
were more people on that train than even he had thought. He was very serious as he sped through the busy streets of the Emerald City. They hadn’t been here for an hour, and already there was trouble.
A hunter had followed the twins to Seattle.
On the outskirts of Seattle, a dark shape moved in the shadows of the verdant trees that gave the city its moniker. Wolf settled in to wait for the city to fall into its nightly rhythm. He knew his target was in the city. The trail of its scent stretched out before him like ribbon. He would wait till he could move about undetected. Then, he would hunt again.
A bead of sweat dripped down the back of Jet’s neck, as she held the illusion of the false wall between her sister and the stockyard crew. Holding it steady wasn’t difficult, but the mental strain was irritating, especially since the imbeciles unloading their car seemed to be taking their time about it. Eventually, though, the last of the pallets and crates were gone, and the car was shut up again.
The twins sat in silence as the car was moved, this time into an auxiliary holding area, and the sound of the crew left. Slowly, Quartz moved to open the door to the car, and peered out. “It’s clear,” she hissed to her sister, “let’s go.”
The two of them quickly moved out of the car, and into the train yard. They needed to find a hiding spot, and then figure out a way to get to the old industrial district. Quartz was annoyed that this was Seattle, not L.A. or New York. Hell even Chicago. In any of those cities they could have used the underground subway tunnels to move around almost undetected. Seattle, being situated between Puget Sound and Lake Washington, relied far more heavily on bus and ferries for its commuter travel, and as such had no subway system to speak of. It has a fine monorail, out to the Seattle center and the space needle, but that helped the twins not at all.
So they needed to find a way to get around. The two of them hid under a loading dock, where trucks would come to load or unload cargo to be packed onto the trains. As Quartz hunkered down, Jet waited only a few moments, and then slithered out. “Wait here,” she hissed, and then she was off. Quartz sighed, and cursed her luck. She had enough power to blow a military assault transport out of the sky, and here she was cowering under a loading dock, useless.
Irksome.
She swallowed her pride and waited for her sister.
Jet stood up and looked around the loading dock. It looked deserted, and she concentrated briefly. From the outside, it looked like a mist formed around her, and them melted into her skin. When it was gone, there was a nice young woman, completely normal looking, in a white leather trench coat, standing there. Jet looked around, and quickly set off to the terminal.
She slipped inside a service door, and got a look at the fire escape map to get her bearings. Then she started walking. She slipped around a corner and on a sudden impulse stepped into a utility alcove and threw up a fake wall over the front. Right as she did so, two security men walked around the corner, chatting. She waited till they turned the corner, and then moved on. A few more turns, and one quick dash past an open office door, and she was out onto the main concourse.
Once she was out here, she was a great deal more relaxed. She straightened up, and strode confidently to the information kiosks, and started looking at the maps. She got so wrapped up in her search that when she heard a voice behind her she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Can I help you miss?” the polite voice asked.
Turning, she saw a police officer standing there staring at her. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Quickly concentrating on making sure the illusion of her face matched what her actual face was doing, she started talking. “Oh, you startled me Officer.”
The young police woman smiled at her, and nodded. Jet idly noticed that her uniform name badge read Walker. “Please, call me Joanne. Were you looking for something?”
“Well, sorta. I need a street map. I just got in, and I wanted to plot out my sightseeing routes, and I’m having trouble finding a good street map to the whole city.”
Officer Walker nodded. “I think I have just the thing.” She glanced at the rack, and picked out one of the maps. “Here you go; it’s the whole city, and a bit beyond. Should be what you were looking for.”
Jet nodded, nervous sweat dripping invisibly down the back of her neck, under her illusion. “Thanks Joanne, you’re a lifesaver.” She took the map, noted that it was a courtesy item, and tucked it in the inner pocket of her coat, and then turned to go with a wave to the helpful policewoman. Thankfully, another train pulled in, and she lost herself in the press of people quickly.
Quartz was getting impatient, and the sun was starting to set, when Jet finally got back. “What took you so long?” she hissed at her errant sibling.
“Cop,” Jet hissed back. “Lets go, I’ve got a map.”
Quartz rolled out from her hiding place and stood. The two of them opened the map up. “Ok,” Quartz said, “here we are,” she pointed out the train station on the map, “and we need to be here,” indicating yet another point.
Jet looked up. “We could always wait about two hours and then fly.”
Quartz nodded. “I’d rather wait till about midnight.”
Jet shrugged. “Till then?”
Quartz grinned. “The gravel under this loading dock is nice and comfy.”
Jet shrugged, and the two of them climbed under the ledge and hid.
Quartz looked up at the sky and hefted the four large duffel bags they had packed. They didn’t even seem that heavy. She shifted her shoulders slightly, and twitched her hands a bit, settling the weight some. She looked at Jet, and smiled. “Ready for takeoff?”
Her sister grinned back. “Got the North Star, so I’m oriented, I’ll lead?”
Quartz nodded, and unfurled her pale wings behind her. She crouched and leapt into the air, rowing her wings for air. Slowly, she gained altitude. It took almost ten minutes for her to gain what she considered to be a safe altitude. Then, after what felt like an eternity of laboring for height in the cooling summer night, she leveled off, scanned the sky for Jet, and finally found her. She was above her, despite Quartz taking off earlier.
Damn showoff.
Quartz nodded at her sister, and the two of them went off towards the warehouse that Quartz had found. It was on the other side of the bay, by the Boeing plant. She had found the place on a list of upcoming foreclosed property auctions, along with a whole string of other places that had been listed at the same time. It wasn’t due to go up for auction for another six months, so it should be rather deserted, but it did once have a bathroom and office, so there should be power and water. They just needed to do some refurbishing. The whole area had gone under at the same time, some failed development, and apparently there was a bit of a stink about the ‘urban blight’ that it was turning into.
It was just what they were looking for, and less then an hour later, they were finally standing in front of the place.
While no city ever truly shuts down, some neighborhoods faked it, and this was one of them. They stood in a deserted street, looking at a two story red brick building with illegible lettering faded above a pair of large cargo doors. There was a small entrance to the left of the cargo doors, and the front of the building had large, many paned windows on the second floor. There were no windows on the first floor. Not the coziest place that either of them had seen, but it beat under a bridge somewhere, which had been Quartz’s secret backup plan.
The surrounding buildings on this street, and the two adjacent, were all just as abandoned, and Quartz hoped this meant that she could practice her abilities in peace. She needed to get more control over her energy blasts. She nodded at Jet. “Shall we?”
Jet grinned slyly, an expression that suddenly made her seem much more like the cocky young football jock she had once been. “After you, O Great Opener of Buildings.”
Quartz smirked back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m going, ya wimp.” She tossed two of the duffels to Jet, who caught them deftly, and she walked her way over to the smaller entry door. A quick snap broke the padlock on the chain, and sharp blow at the lock disabled the deadbolt. She gestured at the now open door. “Our domicile awaits.”
Grinning to each other, the twins walked inside. The interior was a disaster. They walked into a small office like area, which was filled with clutter. Odd bits of scrap and pipe, along with the remains of a drop ceiling littered the floor. Carefully picking their way through the disaster, the twins worked their way into the building proper. The actual building was even worse. The interior was two stories, almost completely open. There was a walkway running along the exterior, with stairs
leading up to it right next to them. The area immediately in front of them was a loading dock, and behind that was what was obviously the old warehouse. It was mostly a pile of scrap, now. It had apparently once been an electronics warehouse, but something had knocked the fifteen foot tall shelving units over. The entire center of the building was taken over by the twisted pile of scrap. At the rear, you could see an enclosed space that took up two floors, obviously the old offices. With an unspoken accord, the twins headed to the rear of the building, and those offices. They found that this area, at least, had been mostly cleaned out by the previous owner, however long ago he abandoned this place.
Looking at each other, and the mostly clean and enclosed spot of floor, Jet looked at Quartz. “Please tell me you brought a cot or something?”
Quartz suddenly looked pained. “No. I actually didn’t. Do we actually OWN any camping gear?”
Jet looked morose. “No. Crap. You’ve seemed to have everything else figured out, I was hoping you would have magically produced a bed from somewhere for us.”
Quartz sighed. “No. But it can’t possibly be worse than the floor of that cargo container.”
Jet sighed. “Blankets, at least?”
Quartz perked up at that. “Yes, actually,” she said. “They’re in your bag, I think.”
Immediately, the two of them began rummaging through the duffels, and sure enough, they found the bedding that had been vacuum packed. Quartz grinned. “Open those. I’ll go get something to use as a bed frame.”
As Jet got to work, Quartz walked back out to the mess, and found a shelving unit that was still mostly intact. Its frame and back were still in one piece, and seemed to have most of its interior shelves intact. It should support their weight. She hefted the thing, and then carefully toted it into the office.
Jet paused in her work to get out of the way of the woman toting the gigantic hunk of metal. “That?”
Quartz slit the thing into the corner of the office. “It should support our weight, and get us off the
floor. Now let’s make ourselves an impromptu bed here, eh?”
Jet looked dubious, but shrugged and brought the pile of bedding. There was quite a lot of it, and between the two of them, they made an acceptable, if unorthodox bed.
Once that was done, Jet immediately started stripping out of her clothes. Quartz looked at her peculiarly. Jet glared at her, topless. “There is no fucking way I’m sleeping in my clothing two nights in a row. I unpacked some of our clothes.” She held up a nightgown, bra, and a fresh pair of panties.
Quartz looked down, and suddenly felt the grimy clothes she had been wearing for two days now. She grimaced, “Right.” She went and got her own nightclothes. Soon, the two of them were cuddled up in their nest of blankets, and sleep rose up with jaws of exhaustion and ate them whole.
Wolf crouched in the train yard, and looked up. The target went up. God damn. He had forgotten that it could fly. He had no idea where it went from here. With a snarl, he headed out. All he knew at this point was that it was not here. Leaping onto the roof of the building with a snarl, he headed out to scour the city. He was going to have to do this the hard way. If there had been anyone to see him as he slunk from shadow to shadow, they would have been hard pressed to tell if he was grinning or snarling. It was the tail that really gave it away though.
He was grinning.
Later that night, Jet woke from dreams of blood and gore, shaking. She could still feel the blood on her hands. As she rolled over, shaking, trying not to wake her sister, she felt a touch on her shoulder. Quartz’s voice whispered in her ear, “I’m here sis. It’s all right.” Emotion killed her voice in her throat, and she just lay there as her sister wrapped her arms around her, and held her. Finally, she found her voice just as sleep claimed her again.
“Thanks,” she whispered to her sister, as she fell asleep in her sister’s strong arms.
The next morning, Jet woke to find herself still in her sister’s arms. It was strange, she mused, to find herself in this situation. There was real comfort here, if only emotional. The ‘bed’ they were in was hardly the most comfortable thing she had ever been in. What was even stranger was to find herself in her sister’s pale arms. That was an entirely different bit of strangeness, even if she understood it. She shifted a bit, trying not to wake her sister.
Quartz, apparently, had been mostly awake already. She shifted, rubbing her chest against Jet’s back, a very odd sensation for the both of them. “Hmm,” she murmured, “time to get up, I think.”
Very slowly, the two of them disentangled themselves from each other. Bemusedly, Quartz noticed that her
problem of morning arousal hadn’t changed due to her swap in gender. She was very grateful that her new skin didn’t show a blush. Once she had disentangled from Jet, who was taking her time getting up, she grabbed some fresh underwear, and a pair of pants and a tee. “I’m going to change in the bathroom, so take your time,” she called, and left the room with Jet’s murmur of consent following her out.
After relieving herself, both in terms of bladder and, ahem, other things, and dressed in casual, work ready clothes, she started assessing what she would need to make this place livable. She had made sure to download several of the technical manuals for electrical and plumbing work, so she had a vague idea of what she was doing. She started to go through the pile of crap that took up most of the warehouse, and started to clear it off to the side. A stray sound from the ‘bedroom’ made her stop for a minute.
“Jet!” she hollered, “stop frigging your self and get dressed! I’m gonna need your help out here.”
A few minutes later, Jet appeared in the door. “Ok, upside to all this, that is fun.”
Quartz shot her a look. “I am FULLY aware of how, fun, that can be.” She smirked. “But if the bed smells like a brothel you get to find a way to clean all those blankets.”
Jet’s face fell, and Quartz laughed. “Why do you think I went into the bathroom, sis?” The two of them
both broke into giggles. There was no other word for it, it was definitely giggling. When the mirth had subsided somewhat, Quartz continued, “Grab your coat, you get to go shopping.”
Jet nodded. Suddenly businesslike, she snagged her white leather trench from the floor and shrugged it on, snagging the list of things from her sister. Looking it over, she looked a bit concerned. “How, exactly am I going to pay for this?” She looked concerned. “I don’t want to steal if I don’t have to, and this is a lot of stuff.”
Quartz shrugged. “I have no idea. We do have a lot of money at our disposal, but it’s all in accounts, and we can’t get at any of it.”
Jet nodded. “I can’t have you doing all the work. I’ll figure something out.” She looked around. “You
going to try to make this place a bit more livable?”
Quartz nodded. “A bit. I’ll see if I can get the power and water back on, and the lights working.”
“All right,” Jet said, while nodding. “I’ll see what I can do about this stuff.” She closed her eyes.
“Tell me what you think of my street clothes.”
So saying, Jet began layering her illusions over herself. There was the faint suggestion of mist over her, and then it wasn’t Jet standing there. It was a tall, stunningly attractive woman with pale skin, white blond hair, bright blue eyes, expertly and subtly made up, wearing a conservative blouse and slacks and a stylish grey overcoat.
Quartz was stunned. “Isn’t that hard to maintain?”
Jet shrugged. “Sort of. I have to focus on keeping the disguise up, but not on the disguise itself. I think it’s a byproduct of the other training I was doing yesterday. If I understand how my powers work, everything should be fine.”
Quartz was concerned, but nodded. “If you think it’ll work, go for it.”
Jet nodded. “I’ll get going. See you later.”
Quartz nodded, and Jet headed towards the door.
After picking her way through the wreckage in the outer office, Jet stood in the bright sun of a Seattle morning, and looked around. She pulled the map she had gotten from Joanne out of her coat, and looked at the bus route information. There was a stop two blocks away, and the bus should be by in half an hour. She looked around, and then started walking.
Half an hour later, a Seattle city bus drove by, and almost didn’t stop. When the bus stopped just past her and the door hissed open she walked in and shot a look at the driver.
The driver, a huge Samoan who seemed to strain his uniform, just looked at her and shrugged. “Don’t get
pickups ‘round here much, lady,” he rumbled at her, as she dug out her old wallet and gave him the bus fare out of her ready cash. She didn’t have a lot of that left. Just enough for lunch, which was good since she had left the last of the food from the train with Quartz.
The bus driver was still staring at her, and cocked an eyebrow, “What’s a lady doin’ out here, anyways?”
Jet felt that a quick explanation was warranted, if only to allay suspicion. “I was inspecting one of the buildings, and my cab ditched me…” she grumbled.
The bus driver nodded, his curiosity mollified, and she took her seat on the nearly deserted bus. This
event definitely made the effort she spent coming up with a story worth it. She felt all secret agent-y. Is that even a word? Ah, well, doesn't matter. She had time for lunch, and a trip to the space needle, and then she’d work on some funds…
Quartz watched as her sister left the building, and then turned her attention to the pile of junk occupying the center of the building. Looking at it, it seemed a massive task. There were the shelves, and the bits of walkway, and then all the electronic odds and ends that had been abandoned. All of it in a gigantic pile. She let out a sigh. This was going to be a chore.
She started by removing the shelves. It was noisy, but with those massive pieces of debris out of the way, the sheer volume of mess was reduced dramatically. She piled the shelves against the doors to the loading dock, and left them there, out of the way. Next, she turned to the bits of scrap and walkway. Those, she sorted into ‘usable’, meaning strait, flat, and otherwise useful bits of metal or grating, and ‘unusable’, that which was twisted, bent, or otherwise unhelpful either due
to design or mischance. The usable, went by the door to the bedroom, the un, under the stairs.
Next, she sorted through the assorted supplies. Apparently her earlier assessment had been correct; this
was an electronics parts warehouse. She found many things that she could use, including industrial power cable, interior power line, networking cable, and soldering supplies. And she also found many things she had no real use for, such as broken televisions, smashed radios, and speakers and unlabeled circuit boards. The useful things went in a pile with the usable scrap metal, the
rest, in the ‘trash’ under the stairs.
It was an hour later that she looked at the place in satisfaction. It was actually clean. Now for the rest of the building. Her first order of business was the second floor of the office structure in the back of the building. A quick hop up to the walkway, and she found the offices up here. What it contained surprised her.
Apparently, she wasn’t the first person to think about living here. There was an old, but reasonably clean, mattress and a small kitchenette. Looking it over, Quartz decided that maybe nobody had lived here, after all. The bed was in the wrong spot if you wanted to sleep on it, but it made a fine couch. That was probably it. This was the old businesses version of a break room, and they had gotten an old bed as a couch. It was only a twin, probably junked on a sidewalk and hauled here to
serve as a seating arrangement, but it was still softer then that pile of blankets they had used last night. It was smaller then anything Quartz had used since she was out of boarding school, and would have to bed two, but they would manage. For even a lumpy, smelly mattress, she would cram in with Jet.
Unfortunately, it was on a rough, plywood base. One that was almost certainly not made to withstand the nearly eight hundred pounds of the twins combined weight. So back onto the proven support of the old shelf. Then she piled the blankets on top of that. Hauling a pair of the shelves into the room, she arranged all of their clothing on them, and looked around again. A handy boudoir if she did say so herself. And she did.
So, back upstairs to what she was calling the kitchen. There was a small fridge/freezer combo, a sink, a
microwave, an oven, and a stove. Thankfully, the latter two were both electric, so she wasn’t going to have to play with gas and blow the building up. That was a relief, even if it did mean that the cooking was going to suffer. There was also some cabinetry and a table in there, though no chairs. She wouldn’t want to live here long, but for the next few weeks, this would do.
Now all she needed to do was restore the power to the building. She grabbed the industrial power line and walked outside, to see what she could do. Thankfully for her peace of mind, the power junction for the building was obvious, and mostly hooked up. She didn’t even need the cable. It was just a matter of breaking open a lock on the utility box and hitting a switch. The water controls were right here too, but those she left alone for now. No use flooding the place, and she had
noticed at least a few broken sprinkler system pipes.
So that was that, time to head in, grab some lunch, and think about that plumbing. She was suddenly very glad that Jet had left the food. She was going to need her energy.
It was going to be a long afternoon
Jet stood there and leaned out over the railing, and munched a french fry. Seattle really could be a fascinating place. And the view from five hundred and twenty feet up was amazing. She took another bite of her burger and leaned over the railing, and focused for a moment on making sure that the illusion that hid her from view from the rest of the observation deck was intact. Then she turned her attention on the city.
Her morning had been spent in tourism, but it hadn’t been totally wasted. She had ventured into the public library, and found what she needed. Every city had its underbelly, its dark corner where those outside society gathered and formed their tribes. She had identified that area in Seattle. And now, she waited, and took in the city.
She finished her lunch, and walked around the needle. She had to pay more attention to her illusion now that she was moving, constantly adjusting for changes in angle and perspective. It wasn’t for long though. A few minutes, and she was facing the opposite side of the monument, and without a moments pause, she hurled herself off.
The illusion changed in mid air, going from a warping blur to a bird. From the ground, she looked like any other bird of prey, perhaps an eagle. Only a true bird watching enthusiast focusing on her with binoculars would be able to tell the difference. She winged her way to the southern waterfront.
For the past decade or so, the southern waterfront of Seattle had decayed and moldered, a victim of the vagaries of economics. It was hardly deserted, not like the warehouse district that the twins had made their home in, but it was hardly the picture of wealth and prosperity that the north shore was. The gangs and the drug dealers had moved in, and they refused
to budge. Well, Jet had decided if the poison pushers weren’t going to move then they could fund some decidedly small scale urban renewal.
It took her less than an hour to find her target. It was an apartment building, hard used and run down by neglect and time. But unlike every other building on the block, there were no gang tags on this building, and a dealer was standing out front. Now, Salicia might have been upscale, but a high school is a high school, and when there’s that much money around, the druggies are going to find their way in. Jet had seen drug dealers before, only not quite as brazen as this. Not quite so well armed either.
They didn’t seem very smart though. She could see the money on a table through a window from the roof
across the street. She couldn’t make out the denominations, but it looked like quite a bit, unless they were all ones and fives, and that was unlikely. It looked like she had found a distribution house. Lots of cash then. Good. She took her time, and spent a good twenty minutes casing the place. She made plans and analyzed the people moving about. And then, when she felt confident there
would be no undue surprises, for her at least, she moved.
She began her very first act of for profit vigilantism by gliding across the alley to her target’s roof. That was their first mistake, they didn’t have a guard on the roof, or if they did, he was too busy getting high downstairs to do his job. The door wasn’t even locked. Inside, the poor lighting in the stairway made her job even easier, and a simple illusion of even deeper shadow made her all but undetectable.
Slowly, she moved down the stairs. The room she had identified as the cash room was on the third floor of the six story structure. Slowly, she descended the stairs, being careful to keep her illusions firm, and her movements silent. She encountered no one, and that made her nervous. Where was everyone? There should be people here somewhere, so where were they? When she got to the third floor, she found out.
The third floor had undergone some impromptu renovation, with a sledgehammer. It was now mostly one large open space, and that space was filled with people. There was a deal going down here, and it must have been happening since before she arrived. There was definitely some impassioned debate going on among these people. She sized them up, taking the measure of her opponents. This thing had definitely been split into two factions.
On one side was a trio of well dressed men, two of whom were holding briefcases. They looked like mafia,
stereotypical mafia anyway. Then she got a good look at the face of one, and saw his features. Decidedly mezzo-American. Probably the out of town supplier then. Lovely, this was a deal. And from the size of those cases, not a small one either.
The other side of this negotiation was more what she was expecting. Street punks, in all their ghetto fabulous glory. What she didn’t expect, although in hindsight she should have, was that three of the gang bangers, and likely at least one of the suits, were MORFS enhanced. One of them was obviously displaying his power, making both of his hands burn like they had been soaked in kerosene. The other was just huge and splotchy blue/black. The suit she suspected just had really long blue hair. It looked like there was some spirited discussion going on over price and purity, and things looked like they might get ugly. Jet grinned. These poor saps had no idea just what ugly was.
She hid in the stairwell, under a cloak of shadow, and bided her time. Just when the money came out, and was assessed, and the deal was finally finished, she struck. She used her most basic trick; she flooded the room with black mist, as far as she could see within the building. Her victims panicked, but they didn’t have time to do much. Jet began to move as soon as she unleashed her distraction.
She stopped time and dashed up to the trio of suits, and struck hard. First was the blue haired one, she didn’t want to have to deal with him and whatever he could do, if anything. Three precise blows, full force, one each to sternum, throat and face and he dropped. She resumed time for a split second, to ensure he did indeed fall, and then went after the other bodyguard suit.
This one had a split second to react, and had a pistol half out of his jacket when she got to him. A blow to the side of the right knee, another to the head, and then a third to the chest, and he was down, and time resumed just long enough for him to fall. Then it was the torch’s turn. He went down much the same as the first, and then she was on to the big blue guy.
This one, she couldn’t be gentle with, she struck with vicious precision. A blow to the eye, the ear, and the throat began the beating, and a pair of brutal blows to the knees ensured that he not get back up to complicate matters. The rest of the freak show was of no real challenge. They fell into confusion as Jet moved among them with impossible speed, blind in her black mist, lurching about, looking for a target, and falling before a brutal and blindingly fast assault, one by one. It took less then a minute, and all that was left in the room was groaning bodies and a woman who looked like a statue made of ebony, wearing a white coat.
Jet walked over, took the duffel bag, and opened it. It was cash, and quite a bit of it. God bless street thugs, they never did use banks. A cashier’s check would have been so much more awkward. She hefted the bag of money and started back up stairs, when she heard a whimper. She whipped her head around, and saw a lovely young woman looking no older then fifteen, in ragged men’s clothes, staring at her from the landing on the floor above. Jet nodded at the youngster, and walked up the
stairs.
On the fourth floor, the young woman stood before the landing with a gun pointed at her. “Diablo,” she hissed at Jet, facing her down with the gun shaking in her hands.
Jet stared at her, and cocked her head. “Not quite, I think. I have no wish to harm you, if you would stand aside?”
The young girl stood there in her ripped clothes pointing the pistol at Jet with shaking hands, and hissed at Jet, “Demon, I will kill you and prove that I am still a man…” She glared at Jet with desperation, “I will prove to my brother that I am more than a whore!”
She spat at Jet, and pulled the trigger. Jet didn’t even think, she just reacted. As soon as the trigger twitched, time slowed. The bullet came out of the gun at a snail’s pace, and Jet simply stepped around it and walked up next to the girl. She grabbed the gun out of the girl’s hand, just as time resumed its normal progress. Jet punched
the young woman lightly in the gut, just enough to make her double over, and scooped her up. She didn’t weigh much.
The kid’s eyes bugged out, and she went limp. On the way up, Jet stopped at what was obviously a bedroom, and grabbed a cell phone. As she climbed to the roof she hit 911, and made an illusory male voice say into the phone, “Hey, I want to report an assault! I’m at 8752 Clearview Ave, and I saw a man hit a girl with a gun and drag her inside! There’s a big commotion going on in there, send cops quick! Oh my god! Get away!” Then she added the sounds of gunfire, and dropped the phone.
She vaulted off the roof, and glided three buildings over, and down into an alley. She dropped the kid, and opened the bag. It was full of bundles of money, twenties, fifties and hundreds, in pre counted bank style wrappers. She pulled out three of the hundred packs, and tossed them to the girl, who caught them in numb hands.
As she turned to go, the kid stared at her. “Why,” she asked.
Jet turned back. “What, you think I’m going to let you get gender swapped and turned into a whore?” She
smirked. “I’m not that heartless kid. Just tell the cops everything that happened here today, and hide that cash, eh?” She turned to go, pulling an illusion disguise around herself as she went. “Good luck with your life, kid. Don’t make me come and beat the snot out of you too, eh?” She walked out of the alley, carrying a bag full of money, and leaving a befuddled young girl holding more money then she had ever dreamed of in her hands as, in the distance, sirens could be heard approaching, and a crowd had heard the
commotion from the third floor and was starting to cautiously gather.
As Jet walked away, she wished the young survivor well. She couldn’t imagine what she must have gone through, and she didn’t want to. It wasn’t like there was anything she could do, anyway. The kid would be fine in the cops’ hands, and the three stacks of hundreds would be enough to at least start her on a new wardrobe, or something. In any event, Jet had the money she needed now. A quick ferry trip and she was off to shop.
Quartz looked around at her handiwork, and was pleased. She had managed a lot in the three hours since she had stopped for lunch. She was standing in the little office that now served as their entryway, and it was finally clean. Well, cleaner, anyway. All the debris that had covered the floor had been swept and bundled up, and dropped unceremoniously in the junk pile with everything else. Her real accomplishment, however, was the plumbing. That’s what had taken all the time.
It had been a painstaking process, finding each and every pipe, tracing it out, and making sure there were no open pipes. She had found several. In each case, the solution had been the same. Fold the opening end in on itself, and spot weld it shut using little tiny energy blasts. It had taken some practice, but it had been excellent for her fine control. Now, it was time for the test. Time to open the water main.
Now, since these properties were supposed to be sold eventually, the utilities were still hooked up, just off. For the phone lines, that meant disabled at the utilities end. But for things like power and water, that just meant that you had to throw a switch, and there’s your service. In this case, the switch was really a big ass valve in the utilities room, just behind the office. She strolled over there, whistling. You know, she thought, I have got to be the hottest plumber ever. For some reason, this thought amused her, and she giggled as she grabbed the wheel for the main water valve to the main outside, and twisted. It stuck for a moment, and then there was a snap, as the lock keeping it closed broke open, and the valve turned. The gurgle of water rushing through pipes greeted her ears, and she waited a moment to see if it stopped, or if she heard the fatal sound of dripping. It did, and she didn’t, meaning that there were no open pipes, and no major leaks. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized that she was holding, and moved to the water heater.
Here, she had a problem. It looked like something had gotten into the computer that controlled the thing, and eaten it. The damage, while not extensive, was crippling, and beyond her ability to fix. She cursed under her breath, and then sighed. Well, there went her half formed plans to build a bathtub. They’d just have to find some other way to get clean.
She shook her head, and headed out into the large central room of the warehouse. She looked up at the windows and assessed the failing light. I hope nothing happened to Jet, she mused, concerned. Her sister had been gone most of the day, and Quartz had been stuck in this hole the entire time. She felt the beginnings of jealousy bubble up in her emotions, and quashed it. It was nobody’s fault that Jet could walk around and see the sights and she couldn’t. She could blow up tanks, and Jet could barely fly carrying a bag. They had differing talents and abilities, that was all. Equal, yet opposite.
So why did she feel like Jet was taking care of all the important stuff while she played homemaker? It didn’t make sense, but then again a great many emotions don’t. She would just have to work through it with her sister, and find a solution. As she sat on the edge of the loading dock, thinking these deep thoughts, her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a truck pulling up right in front of the building. She started, and moved to the office, only to find her sister walking in the door.
“Hurry up,” she called. “We need to get the truck unloaded fast. I need to have it back where I found it in an hour.”
Quartz frowned, “When you get back, we are going to have a conversation about that last line.”
Jet smiled. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hurry up!”
Quartz smiled back at her sister, and the two of them hurried to unload the contents of the truck. Things that would make their life in this little hole much more livable.
Quartz lay back and flipped on the television, flipping through the channels looking for something to watch while her tablet went on a web crawl, trawling through the net on a search for news on them and their father. She looked at the pile of money in the half empty bag on the floor and tried to count how many crimes they were committing right now. At least five, she figured.
She wondered where Jet got that truck, not to mention the money. As she was mulling the possibilities over, the subject of her conjecture walked into the impromptu living room/kitchen that they had set up above their equally improvised bedroom.
“Thank you, by the way, for rigging that ramp,” Jet said as she walked into the room, referring to the ramp of old shelf parts that Quartz had made so that you could reach this floor without using the collapsed sections of the walkway.
“Not a problem, where’d the cash come from and how’d you get the truck?” Quartz responded, her tone casual, her attention seemingly more on the television then her sister.
Jet shrugged. “The cash? I knocked over a gang crack house during a drug deal and took the cash,” she
deadpanned.
Quartz stared at her for a moment, unsure of whether to be amused or outraged. Amusement won. She burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s good.” She turned to her sister and smiled. “And the truck?”
Jet smiled back at her sister. “’Borrowed’ from a rental yard for a few hours for a few hundred from the bag, no questions.” At Quartz sudden surge of concern, she continued, “And yes, I used a disposable disguise.”
Quartz shook her head. “I suppose secrecy was too much to hope for…”
Jet dropped onto the floor next to her sister with a pair of instant dinners. “Hey, nobody saw me, ‘cept for one girl.”
Quartz took her dinner from her sister and stabbed the fork into the macaroni and cheese. “Yeah, I know, but I give it a few days till they figure out we’re up here.” She took a bite and regarded her sister calmly. “Within a month, we’ll have to bail.”
Jet finished chewing what was in her mouth and swallowed. “Do you see better options?” she asked sharply.
Quartz shrugged. “Not particularly. That’s part of the problem. I can’t think of anything you did
particularly wrong, but I know that it could have been better.”
Jet shook her head. “Well, it’s done. It’s not like we’ve had a lot of practice at this.” She took another bite.
Quartz leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. “That’s the problem. All we’re doing is reacting. We’re never going to get out from under this if all we do is run.”
Jet sighed. “So we go to the Edgewater and pay a visit to Nora then?”
Quartz heaved herself sitting and stared at her food. “Yeah. I guess we have to. I wanted to avoid bringing more people in on this but…”
Jet sighed. “…But we can hardly keep ourselves from getting caught, much less help Mom and Sarah. So we go get help. What’s wrong with that? We’re not even in college yet, what’s wrong with looking for help with something like this.” She gestured in an aimless way that seemed to encompass the whole room, and included the entire mess of a situation they found themselves in.
Quartz shook her head. “Maybe its pride, but this was a family thing. I wanted to keep it that way.” At Jet’s look, she shook her head. “Irrational, I know, but still, true.”
Jet shook her head. “Finish up; it’s almost dark enough for us to fly over to the waterfront district.”
Quartz just nodded, and the two of them applied themselves to their food. Both of them were silent, but they could both feel the cold, underlying fear. They couldn’t keep this up forever. They needed to find a solution, and soon. Hopefully Nora and her friends would have some good ideas, because they were both out.
Two hours later, it was full dark, and the moon had risen in a startlingly clear sky. Quartz stared up at the sky, and slowly unfurled her wings. I trust my sister, she told herself, I do trust her. She closed her eyes and bounced a little on the balls of her feet, enjoying the feeling of her breasts bouncing as she did so. The irony of the moment was not lost on her. She looked at Jet and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
Jet looked around the alley they were in, and sighed. “Here we go.” There was a ripple around them, and then Jet nodded brusquely.
Quartz spread her wings, and leapt into the sky, pulling for altitude. She had located the hotel earlier, and once she had gotten to a decent altitude, she looked around for her landmarks and got her bearings. She headed out, knowing that Jet was right behind her.
The view of the city as they flew over the bay was spectacular, and Quartz was thrilled by the sight. She heard Jet glide up beside her and felt more then saw the grin on her sister’s face.
“Yeah, it’s impressive,” Jet commented softly, as they flew. There was a moment of silence that stretched out between them, before Jet broke it. “I missed you out here today, you know.”
Quartz sighed softly. “Yeah. I missed being out here. I know that I had a job to do back there, but it felt so much like busy work, I was getting stir crazy.”
Jet shrugged, and interesting motion to make while in mid flight. “So, we need to find something to occupy our time. I know that I’d go nuts if I have to sit around all day in that dump and couldn’t leave.”
Quartz laughed. “Heh. What, exactly? It’s not like I can actually DO anything.” She laughed again.
“Other then blow stuff up, of course.”
Jet frowned, sensing an undercurrent of bitterness in her sister. “Do you really think that that’s all
you’re good for, Q?” she asked quietly.
Quartz frowned, and slowed, forcing Jet to do the same. “What do you think I meant?” she answered, just as softly.
Jet sped up, till she was just beside her sister, and looked at her. “I think that you seem to be under the impression that you’re somehow second fiddle here.” Quartz started to speak, and Jet cut her off, “No, shut up and listen. I may have the powers that are useful right now, but you’re the one with all the brains.” Quartz again tried to say something, and again Jet spoke over her, “I know, I’m no idiot. That’s not the point. The point is that all my vaunted knowledge is in the most
useless things right now. I know twenty two ways to kill a man with my bare hands, and another forty with my feet. I know how to evaluate and authenticate Antique swords and weapons. I know a nearly limitless amount of trivia about anime and Japanese culture. And precisely none of that means a damn thing right now. You’re the one who figured out how to get us out of Salicia without
a trace. You’re the one who figured out how to hide in Seattle without us getting caught. You’re the one who made sure that Dad didn’t bankrupt us, and made sure that we had our piece. You’re the one who found out what really happened to Mom and Sara. What have I done? I do what you tell me to do. We’re a team. Alone, we’d both be done. Together, we’re unstoppable.”
Quartz listened to her sister’s rant, and felt a tear run down her perfect white cheek. She looked down, and saw three drips of white fall to the distant street below. She choked back a sob, and did a roll to let her at least pretend that Jet didn’t see her wipe her eyes. “Thanks,” was all she said, but the feeling of gratitude did not go un-discerned by her sister.
“No problem,” Jet quipped, pleased to see her sister shaken out of her funk. “Come on, you’re the one who knowswhich room Nora’s in. Hurry it up.”
Smiling, Quartz was only too happy to comply.
Malcolm was cleaning his guns,again. He had just finished watching the late local news, and he was having a minor panic attack. Or perhaps panic was the wrong word. He wasn’t really panicked, per se, but he wasn’t really sure what the word to describe his feelings at the moment would be. “What the hell were they thinking?”
Now, since he was alone in his room, with the door to the hotel locked, he was rather surprised when a voice from nowhere came from behind him.
“What was who thinking?”
It was rough, a very masculine drawl, but in a higher, feminine register. He spun towards it, drawing the sidearm he had holstered under his left arm, and looked for the source of the voice. He seemed to be alone in the room. Warily, he looked about, suspecting deception.
Again from right over his shoulder, the same voice came, “Looking for someone?”
This time, he recognized it. “Carmichael…” he growled, as he holstered his weapon.
There was a distant giggle from the direction of the balcony, and suddenly the Carmichael twins materialized in a swirl of black fog. The white one knocked politely on the glass of the door, and they smiled at him, feigning innocence
Malcolm walked over to the door and slid it open, and gestured for the twins to join him in the suite. He raised an eyebrow at them, “Were you followed?”
Jet laughed. “Only if they can fly and see in the non-visible spectrum.”
Malcolm just stared at her. “So if there was a spotter with a thermal scope on a roof, then whoever it was now knows exactly where you are,” he said, with deadly earnest.
The mirth in the twins suddenly vanished. “Yes,” Quartz responded. “If there was anyone watching the hotel with any sort of imaging gear they had even odds of spotting us.” She cocked a barely visible eyebrow at him in an expression that inquired without words if he considered it likely.
Malcolm answered her concerns by stepping back and picking up the phone on the desk without his eyes leaving the twins, who were leaning on the wall just inside the room. He dialed without looking and when whoever he called picked up, all he said was, “Yeah, it’s me. Those guests you were expecting are over here. You may want to drop by.” There was a pause. “Yeah, that would probably be wise.” He hung up the phone, and sat down on the bed.
“Make yourselves comfortable, please,” he motioned for them to take the two chairs in the bedroom.
The twins seated themselves and a long moment of uncomfortable silence stretched out before them. Quartz was the first to interrupt the awkward pause. “So, Malcolm, have we done something to upset you?” Malcolm’s eyes hadn’t left the twins, and he had kept a posture of alert readiness that implied impending violence ever since they had arrived.
When that question was aired, he took stock of that readiness, and then carefully answered them. “The last time I actually saw you, you had just killed five of my friends between you.” They moved to respond, and he waved a hand at them, interrupting them. “I know, I know, it wasn’t on purpose, and you more then had cause. I know that. That, combined with what I learned about your situation, and I’m rather firmly on your side. My gut just doesn't seem to trust you. Sorry about that.”
Jet looked nonplussed by that, but Quartz just shrugged. “Understandable, really. Just don’t shoot me again, eh? It stings like mad.”
That got a laugh out of Malcolm. He looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could do more then open his mouth, there was a knock on the door, and a look crossed his face. Without a word, he got up and walked out into the main room of the suite. Jet shared a smirk with her sister. When he returned, he was with two ladies who the twins thought looked just fine.
One was older, most likely in her early thirties, with a shapely body that Quartz noted was not quite as curvy as hers, and then wondered where the hell that thought came from. She was certainly a MORF, given her green hair and eyebrows, especially on a thirty year old woman. She was dressed in a conservative pantsuit, and was rolling a large case behind her.
The other woman was young; it looked like in her early twenties, not much older then the twins themselves, and carried herself with a poise and motion that screamed of sex. She seemed to be straight out of a porno flick, from her curvy body that gave Quartz’s Barbie doll body a run for its money in the curves department, to her too-tight belly shirt and daisy dukes. She was wheeling a similar case to the green haired woman, and her blond hair fell over the right side of her face, partially screening the caduceus tattoo on her cheek.
“Girls,” Malcolm said as they entered the bedroom, “Let me introduce you to Lisa,” he gestured to the blond, “and Agent Davies,” he gestured to the green haired woman.
Jet got up and wrapped Davies in a hug. “Nora, it’s good to finally meet you in the flesh, so to speak.”
Davies let out a rush of breath. “Woof girl, watch it, you’ll break my ribs.” She grinned at the young woman. “You must be Jet, then?”
Quartz, who had hung back a bit, smiled. “Yes, and I’m Quartz,” She looked at Lisa, “and you must be that bio-elemental that wanted to see us. I take it that I have you to thank for Sergeant Stark here not needing a sling?”
Lisa rolled the case up against the wall, and smiled at Quartz, incidentally thrusting her breasts out at her. “Yup, that’d be me. I can tell already, this is going to be one of the good ones.”
Malcolm looked around, and then seemed to come to a decision. “Well, ladies, I think we’ll only be able to do an exam on one of these fine young women at once, so why don’t one of you two go and take a shower, and we’ll take the other off into the main room and do our exam.”
Jet and Quartz traded looks, and then, without any other communication, Jet went off towards the bathroom. She called back over her shoulder, “Oh, thank you god. I don’t think I’ve gotten clean in like three days.”
Quartz raised an eyebrow at her sister, and then shrugged. She started towards the door. “So, what’s the procedure here, then?” she asked Lisa.
Lisa looked at her, and seemed to come to a conclusion. She turned a half lidded stare on Quartz and drawled, “Why don’t we adjourn to the other room…”
Quartz turned her head just slightly so that she could see the youthful bio-elemental, and a slow smile
pulled one corner of her mouth up. “Sounds fun,” she said, slowly. “But business before, hmm, pleasure.” She made a deliberate effort to sway and strut as she walked past the other two dumbfounded people in the room.
As she past, she heard Malcolm whisper to Lisa, “I think you met your match, Li,” and slowly smiled.
Quickly, Lisa caught up with her, and put a hand on her shoulder. She froze at the touch, suddenly sobering, and the arousal that had rendered her half dazed vanishing in an instant. Lisa whispered in her ear, “You’re right, later. But now, business, and if I don’t do this, we’ll never be able to focus.”
Suddenly calm, she sat on the couch, while Lisa sat in the armchair across from her and stared at her
intently. Malcolm and Davies busied themselves with unpacking several pieces of diagnostic equipment from the cases, while Lisa stared intently at Quartz. Quartz stared back, and then asked, with a restrained calm, “What did you just do to me?”
Lisa shrugged. “I suppressed your sex drive. It’s strictly temporary, it’ll only last about an hour, and then it’ll come back strong as ever. I do it to myself whenever I need to focus.”
Quartz nodded. “And you did that, why?”
Lisa laughed. “I thought it was obvious. If we kept that up, we were going to wind up playing tonsil hockey, not figuring out what MORFS did to you. If it’s any consolation, I had to do it to myself too.”
Quartz grinned. “Strangely enough, that makes me feel good.”
Lisa smiled. “Well, my initial scans are done. You’re an interesting case, young lady.”
“Young lady?” Quartz smiled. “You don’t look that much older than me.”
Lisa smiled back. “I know. It’s a blessing of my power. I’m a sufficiently powerful bio-elemental that I prevent myself from aging. It’s a perk. I’m actually Malcolm’s age.”
Quartz nodded, feeling suddenly depressed for some reason. “I see.”
Lisa cocked her head. “What was that about…? Oh, no, no.” She shook her head. “We slept together once in high school, but that was it. I’m a lot like you. Lesbian with Bisexual tendencies.”
Quartz looked up, shocked. “I thought that Nora said that telepaths couldn’t get into our heads…”
Lisa laughed at the stunned expression on Quartz’s face. “I’m not a telepath. Just a bio-elemental with a lot of experience and a doctorate in human neurobiology.”
Malcolm and Davies had finished taking out the equipment and sat down, Malcolm on the other armchair, Davies next to Quartz. Agent Davies took Quartz hand and started to massage it, slowly. The human contact was enormously reassuring, to Quartz, who glanced at her, and smiled softly.
Lisa was continuing. “I think that you might benefit from hearing my credentials. My full name is Doctor Lisa Braynt. I have a General Practitioners License, and Degrees in Neurobiology, Genetics, and Physiology. I don’t read your mind. I perceive the chemical changes in your biology and interpret them. It’s not nearly as fast or as effective as true telepathy or empathy, but it does serve.” Lisa shrugged, as if her accomplishments were nothing to be concerned about. “I’m also a board certified Plastic Surgeon in California, but that’s neither here nor there. My talents as an elemental were what made most of that alphabet soup after my name possible, not any real genius on my part. You’re far more interesting.
“From what I can tell, you’re one of the most extremely low probability MORFS cases I’ve ever even heard of. First, let’s get into the purely physical aspects of your change, eh.” She smiled, and waited for a reaction from the stunned girl. When Quartz nodded, she continued.
“As you’ve most likely noticed, you are now fully and genetically female. Also, all of your body tissues are the same opaque white color, including your blood. It’s very unique. Your eyes, I would theorize, and this is only a theory, work rather differently now. Have you noticed any difference in your night vision?”
Quartz stopped to think about it, and then nodded. “Yes, now that you mention it. I’ve never had any problem seeing, even at night.” Quartz was rather stunned by the transformation of what she had initially seen as a rather flirty beach bunny into such an intellectual giant.
Lisa, the intellectual giant, nodded sagely. “That’s what I thought. I think that your entire eye is a
photon detector, behind a thin film to protect it from debris and such. Now I can’t tell exactly how it works. I’ve never really studied optometry, other then changing an eye color and iris shape, so I really am out of my depth here.” She shrugged. “Not that it matters much. We’ll run some vision tests, define parameters, and leave the specifics for a more leisurely time, eh?” She shared
a smile with Quartz and Malcolm that Davies somehow missed out on.
“So,” she continued, “lets move on to the rest of the body, hmm? You have quite the extraordinary skeletal and muscular system. Your bone and muscle density are quite a bit above normal, as is your tendon and ligament strength. Your skin elasticity and tensile strength is well above normal as well. Practical translation, you’re a lot faster, stronger, and far more flexible then a normal person.” She raised an eyebrow. “That’s before any extra-normal abilities you may have acquired.”
When Quartz moved to speak, Lisa raised a perfectly manicured hand. “I’m not done. You’ve got a few other purely biological tricks up your sleeve. Your metabolism is accelerated, your cellular replication is flawless, and your repair functions are far more thorough then any other I’ve seen not being assisted by, well, me.” She paused, waiting for the implications of that to sink in.
Quartz sat there and stared at the doctor. “Ok, so, I, what, regenerate?” she asked incredulously.
Lisa shook her head. “No, or no faster then any normal human.” A brief pause. “Let me rephrase that. Not much faster, at any rate. No, what you do is heal perfectly. No scars, no lingering handicap or injury. If you break a bone, your body isn’t going to just put the pieces back together and leave off. It’s going to fix that bone as if it was never broken. If you survive an injury, if some trauma fails to kill you, you will, eventually, recover to exactly the state you are in now.”
She paused for a moment, and then let the real shocker drop. “And that includes aging.” The other three just stared at her, speechless.
Davies worked her mouth for a bit, unable to find words. “You mean…
“I’m never going to die.” Quartz’s voice cut through the near silence like a knife. The expression on her face was completely blank.
Lisa shook her head. “I didn’t say that. You can most certainly still die. You may even still age. I don’t know. What I do know, with certainty, is that you will live a very long time, sans outside intervention. It is more then possible for something to kill you.”
Quartz shook her head. “Not with what I can do.”
Lisa shrugged. “I can see at least three ways to do it right now. Hell, if I wanted to, I could kill you myself.”
Quartz raised an eyebrow. “You think yourself that formidable?”
Lisa shrugged. “No. But there’s nothing stopping me from giving you a fatal stroke, heart attack, or aneurism, right here. It’s all a matter of perception. If it’s any consolation, I’m in the same boat. Talk about it with your sister, or me if you want. But later. Lets finish these tests, and then you go get cleaned up, alright?”
Quartz still looked shocked. Lisa snapped her fingers. “Oh, one more thing. You’ll never have to shave again. Anywhere. You’ve got no hair follicles below your eyes.”
Quartz laughed. “Wonderful. I’ll be a perfect Barbie doll forever. Just what I always wanted.”
Lisa shrugged. “I wouldn’t think so. Then again, I never wanted to be an immortal lesbian bimbo either, but I turned out fine.” Malcolm started to say something, and Lisa cut him off. “Don’t, Mal. I know what I am. I’ve made my peace with it.” She turned to look at Quartz. “Now you have to do the same. Not right now though. You can put it aside, deal with it when you have the leisure.”
Quartz nodded after a moment. “Right.” She forced all the issues that this shocking pronouncement had raised into a little mental box and shut the lid, for now. She looked up at Lisa. “Now, what about those tests.”
Almost an hour later, the tests were done and they were exhaustive. Quartz had lifted weights, many weights, both with and without using what Lisa called her “kinetic assist”. She stared at cards with color wheels and patterns of colored dots. The most interesting part was the demonstration of her energy blasts. That got entertaining.
In any event, by the time that Jet emerged from the bedroom, clean and dressed in a different top and presumably fresh underwear, the four of them were back sitting down, discussing the results. Quartz looked up when her sister arrived, and smiled. “Ok, it’s your turn to have your mind blown, Jet. I need to wash up.” Quickly, before any of them could try to stop her, she left the room and headed into the bathroom.
Behind her, she heard her sister comment, “What was that about…” Before she could hear the response, she shut the door.
She staggered over to the shower, and slumped against the wall. Slowly, she turned on the water, and pulled on the hot water at full blast.
Slowly shucking off her clothing, and piling it on the counter by the sink, she stepped under the scalding hot water without a sound. She stood there, under the hot water, barely feeling the heat of it, and considered what she had learned about herself. She was ageless. That was the best way to put it. She was going to watch Diane, Brian, and all her other friends grow old and die, and in that time she might age a year. If she ever found someone she loved, man or woman, they would only
be together for a fraction of her life, and then she would be alone again. Always, she would be alone.
Immortality is a lonely thing, she realized. That’s a fundamental fact that you only really notice when it’s staring you in the face. And now she had to.
And another thought occurred to her. What if Jet wasn’t as physically identical as she seemed. What if she would have to watch her SISTER die, while she stayed ageless and eternal? What would she do?
*Don’t worry about it,* came the mental voice of Agent Davies, *Lisa just finished scanning your sister, and it looks like she’s just as ageless as you.* The mental voice fell silent.
Quartz sagged against the wall in nearly palpable relief. That was at least one worry off of her mind. So she wouldn’t be alone. She thought about it for a moment more, and then shook her head. While it was good to know, it really didn’t matter, when it came down to cases. The only thing she could do was learn to live with it. Well, or kill herself, which just didn’t seem all that palatable of an option.
So, then she would do nothing. She would live her life as if she didn’t know. She would most likely be happier that way. She sighed and leaned against the wall of the shower. She had a plan, at least, even if it was a non-plan. She could move forward with her life. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have enough things going on to distract her, anyway. She smiled as she stood there under the scalding spray, sensation and a certain warmth flooding through some very particular parts of her anatomy. She definitely had some distractions.
Quartz walked back into the main room of the suite clean and dressed in new clothes, and feeling very relaxed. As she walked over to sit next to her sister, Malcolm raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “So, did you leave the rest of the hotel any hot water?”
Quartz looked puzzled, and the brilliant reply of, “Uh…” was the best she could manage.
There was a pregnant moment of silence, and then the other four burst into laughter. Quartz looked around, a slightly petulant expression on her face. “What?” she asked, crossly.
Jet cocked her head to one side, and quizzically asked her sister, “Did you even turn the cold water on?”
Quartz blushed invisibly. “It didn’t seem that hot.”
That set off another round of laughter. Agent Davies draped an arm around Quartz conspiratorially, and
whispered just loud enough for the others to hear, “Dear, anyone else here would have boiled their skin off.”
Quartz digested that for a moment, and then smirked. “I guess I enjoy a good steam cleaning, then, ‘cause that was definitely refreshing.”
Lisa smiled slyly. “Was it the water, or something else?” she whispered as she leaned over towards the sisters.
Quartz froze for a moment, mouth agape at the implications that comment sent careening through her brain. Then the absurdity of the comment struck her, and she burst out laughing. The five of them shared a laugh at the absurdity of the situation, and when they had all settled down, began a serious discussion of their situation.
Malcolm looked the twins over, and then sighed. “All right,” he said reluctantly, “I might as well lead with this, then.” His gaze suddenly sharpened, and focused on Jet. “What the hell was that stunt with the damn gang this afternoon?”
Jet blushed, not like anyone could tell but her and Quartz, well perhaps Lisa. “What? None of them saw me.”
Malcolm continued staring at her. “What about the girl?”
Jet raised an eyebrow. “She ID’d me?”
Malcolm shrugged. “Not as such, no. She did give a description of a ‘demon woman’ who came and brought judgment to her brother, at least according to the news. They do have a decent description of you, and the hit could only have been done by someone with your abilities.”
Jet shrugged. “And?”
Malcolm nearly blew his top at her casual indifference. “And? And? And you just told anyone who hadn’t figured it out that you were up here!”
Quartz shook her head. “Not quite. She told anyone who knows what her powers are and hadn’t figured it out that she was here. Not that many people do, yet.” Malcolm shrugged, reluctantly.
Jet spoke up. “Besides, what was I going to do, kill the poor girl? She had gotten her gender flipped, and then her brother goes and makes her a whore. I couldn’t just leave her there.” She almost glared at Malcolm, as if daring her to tell her that she made the wrong choice.
Malcolm shrugged. “Ok, I get what you did. What I don’t get is why?”
Jet and Quartz responded in stereo. “Ready cash.”
Davies looked confused. “But the financials… You cleared out all your accounts after you woke up. You’ve got over half a billion I think.”
Jet looked at Quartz, who nodded. “About that. Problem is, it’s all in numbered accounts in offshore shelters. I can’t get at it, and with our current situation, walking into a local branch to get an account with a debit card to use it could be rather problematic.” She shrugged, knowing that there was nothing that they could do about it now.
Lisa leaned back. “Well, explains it. You needed liquid cash, and there aren’t many places to get that. So.” She leaned forward. “Let’s take a look at your problems, and see if we can’t divine a solution, eh?”
When the other four nodded, she continued. “So, let me lay it out as I see it. You’re on the run; you’re wanted criminals, for the rather amusing charge of kidnapping and murder of, of all people, yourselves. Your family is AWOL, or in the case of your father, actively opposing you validating your identity.” At Davies irritated sound, she revised that last statement. “Ok, most likely but untraceably, at the moment, actively opposing you validating your identity.” Davies sniffed, but
looked mollified.
Malcolm leaned in and added, “And don’t forget, our new acquaintance.”
Lisa nodded. “Ah, yes, the hairy one. I had almost forgotten.”
Jet raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. Quartz mirrored the expression.
Lisa laughed. “Do you two do that on purpose? No, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. It looks like you’ve been followed up here. But not by anything normal. Malcolm found hair on his bike when he pulled it out of the baggage car it rode in. It looked like wolf hair, as far as I could tell, but not quite.” She shrugged. “So keep your eyes open.”
Jet shrugged, while Quartz looked concerned. “Any idea who it might be,” Quartz asked.
Lisa leaned back. “Maybe,” she drawled. “I’m not certain of the particulars, but if the read I got off of that hair was what I think it was, then the people chasing you are a group that’s been snatching every odd MORFS survivor that can be grabbed without being missed. This is probably one of their success stories.”
Jet’s eyebrows rose until they looked likely to vanish into her hair. “You mean MORFS experimentation. Weapons development.”
Lisa nodded grimly. “Exceedingly likely. I’ve been looking into the disappearances, and they’re too orderly, yet the victims are too random. The only commonality is that all the victims were changed physically in some fashion that was not human. The more inhuman, the better. That and they’ve all been individuals whose disappearance wouldn’t raise much fuss. You two would be a prime catch.”
Quartz shrugged. “Let them come. They’ll find we aren’t so easy to catch. Between the two of us there isn’t much we can’t handle.”
Malcolm and Lisa shared a look, and then Malcolm shrugged and continued. “So, let’s figure out a plan to deal with this then, shall we?”
The five of them huddled together, plotting and planning, for an hour at least. In the end, the plan they decided on was a simple one. The twins would try to hide in Seattle for at least two weeks. That would likely throw the searchers off the track. Agent Davies professional opinion was that once the bureau got that description, they would throw a lot of manpower up here for about a week, and then they would slack it off. So by hiding for two weeks, they would miss the manhunt, and slip behind their chasers, so to speak.
In the mean time, they would be anything but idle. Malcolm and the twins would be first finding a nice
secluded spot, and then Malcolm would be putting the twins through a rather intensive survival regimen, designed to get them as skilled as possible in controlling and using their various gifts. They would likely need the practice. Lisa would spend the time bumming lab space from an old colleague that had moved up here, and trying to match that hair sample to its owner. She had her suspicions, but she refused to elaborate on them without confirmation. Agent Davies would be playing the obsessive investigator. She would be calling her fellow agents, playing for info, and trying to find ways to get some traction on figuring out how the DNA in the security records got switched, and how deep the influence to railroad the twins went.
Later, when it was time to leave, first Davies would head back to San Francisco. She needed to start trying to find the hole that ‘whoever’ had used to alter the security files, and she could do that best from there. Lisa and Malcolm would head to Chicago by air. They wanted to be there a few days before the twins arrived, and would try to find a decent location for the twins to hole up while in Chi-town. The Twins themselves would come in by train. Just not by freight train. The new High Speed National Line ran directly from here to Chicago, and they could book a private suite with the money they had. It would just take some creative disguise work on their part.
Malcolm watched as the twins took flight off his balcony, and then the air shimmered around them, and they vanished. He turned and walked inside and looked at the two women he was with. He raised an eyebrow at them. “So,” he asked, “What do you think?”
Lisa leaned against the doorframe, her voluptuous form making interesting jiggling motions as she breathed. “I can see why you like them. They have a refreshing idealism about them. I like how they think. Did you notice it?”
Malcolm grinned. “Yeah. Reminds me of us.”
Davies leaned back on the bed, her athletic body relaxed for the first time in either of the other’s presence. “I like their sense of irony. Did you notice how they solved their cash problem?”
Malcolm smiled wolfishly. “Yeah. They need to rob someone for cash, so they head straight to the gangs. Stealing from the thugs and scum.”
Lisa matched his grin. “I think someone is borrowing heavily from the Tao of Peter Parker.”
Davies smiled. “There are worse philosophy’s to use to guide the use of power.”
Lisa nodded. “So, they really are the Carmichael twins?”
Davies nodded. “I think they forgot I was a telepath when we were going over their history. Their reactions were in line with what I would expect of the real twins. It’s not conclusive, but it’s the best anyone is ever going to manage. That mental static thing they have going is annoyingly impressive.”
Malcolm shrugged. “Irritating, but unavoidable.”
Lisa shoved herself upright, and sighed. “It’s late, and I’m going to be up at Oh God Early tomorrow, so I’ll catch you two later. Mal, it’s all right if I leave the gear here overnight?”
Malcolm waved at her that it was all right, and she left with a sway in her hips that left Malcolm in a most uncomfortable predicament.
Davies laughed. “It’s an act you know. She enjoys the attention, I think.”
Malcolm lowered himself down onto the bed next to her. “Oh, I know. You know it doesn’t matter? A man sees that body, moving that way, and certain parts of the anatomy leap to respond.”
Davies looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and smiled slightly. “And you respond just as readily?”
Malcolm smiled. “As I am indeed a man, yes, yes I do.”
Davies smiled, and rolled over and kissed him, on the mouth. When they came up for air, she gasped, “Then we should do something about that, then.”
The two of them shared a very interesting night.
Wolf sat on the roof of the butchers building he had just acquainted himself with, and took a gnaw off of the leg of lamb he had liberated. The raw meat wasn’t his favorite, but it was perfectly palatable. He had gotten used to it, over the last year. He leaned back and thought of his prey. Perhaps he would be able to kill them, rather then capture them. It would be refreshing to deny the cadaverous fool his subjects, and a mercy to the unfortunate target. He would have to be very careful in how he staged the encounter. That meant he would need to be careful and deliberate in his stalking. And that would take time.
And that didn’t disturb him at all.
He took another bite of his lamb, and followed it with a swallow out of a two liter of cola. He was in no rush. The outside world was refreshing, and he was going to savor it while he had it.
He leaned back, and stared at the moon, and smiled.
The twins secreted themselves back to their lair in silence, and stripped off their clothing, hanging the coats on an appropriately shaped piece of scrap. The dirty clothing went in a bin made of a section of upended shelving. They pulled their nightgowns on, and Quartz thumped down on the small twin mattress. Jet looked at her, and moved to lie down on the bare metal, until Quartz pulled her onto the mattress with her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.
Jet grimaced. “You managed all this. You made this place into a real home. Something that we can live in in reasonable comfort. I figure that you should get the mattress till we find a spare.”
Quartz smiled at her sister. “It’s refreshing to know that I’m not the only one with self esteem issues.” She pulled her sister close, and lay down.
Jet struggled a bit, but couldn’t budge, and eventually gave up. The two of them slowly drifted off to sleep, taking comfort in the simple presence and closeness of their sister.
They had a plan, a direction, and the doubts and anxieties of the day somehow seemed to diminish in the light of that plan. They drifted off to sleep with the knowledge that tomorrow Malcolm would be arriving, and they would begin to learn what they needed to know to survive. That they had allies moving to help them. That the world WASN’T out to get them. For the first time in three days, they fell asleep with light hearts.
Tomorrow, they took the offensive.
END CHAPTER FIVE
THE TALE OF JET & QUARTZ
By: Darian Deamos
The Twins celebrate their bithday on the run, and the gang scatters, heading towards the location of their quarry. But someone is stalking the Twins, and with thier protectors off prepareing the way, they are vulerable...
Chapter Six: Puzzle Box
“Ten, Two!
“Four, One!
“Six, Four!
“One, One!”
The count rang in her ears, and Quartz moved with speed and vicious strength, striking at the numbered metal plates that ringed her, each blow bringing fourth a series of ringing chimes. Sometimes they matched the first call of the count, and sometimes they didn’t. Each failure brought a surge of shame flooding through her, and she channeled that into making her blows more precise, her strength more controlled.
Finally, after what felt like hours, but was most likely only a minute or two, Malcolm fell silent, and she sagged with exhaustion. It wasn’t any exertion of strength that had exhausted her; it was the strain of not using her full strength that wearied her. Power was of no issue; the ability to control power was her aim in these exercises, and she felt that she was failing miserably.
“God damn it,” she muttered to herself, feeling furious at the errors she had heard herself make during the exercise.
She felt Malcolm walk up next to her and pause just out of reach. “Give it time. You’ve only been at this a week, and we’ve only been working together for ten days. Given that, you’ve made amazing progress.”
Quartz growled at him, “Yeah, I’m making great progress. I have what, an eighty percent error rate on this?”
She was facing away from him, so she didn’t actually see his shrug, but it made itself known in the conversation anyway. “Forty five, actually, and always within one chime.”
Quartz snorted, still irritated, but mollified. She really was making progress, then. She walked out of the rough circle of targets and watched her sister run through one of her billion and a half katas. She really was a pleasure to watch. A ceramic clicking sound behind her drew her attention, and she turned to face Malcolm. “Target practice?”
Malcolm nodded. “We’ll break for lunch after, and then head back.”
Quartz grinned as they headed off towards the shore of the wooded island. “Seeing Agent Davies off?”
Malcolm gave her a slight smile, and nodded. “She’s heading back. Her vacation’s up, and she needs to be back in San Fran to accomplish anything on her end of things.”
Quartz gave the Special Forces soldier a sly look, but left it at that. Moments later the two of them reached the shore, and the small mountain of clay pigeons stacked there. Malcolm picked up a handful and looked over at Quartz. “Ready?” he asked.
Quartz raised her hand, and a glowing ball of light formed around her fist. She narrowed her eyes, and focused out over the sound. “Whenever,” she replied.
Malcolm started slow, throwing only five the first toss. Quartz waited till they hit their apex, and had separated as much as they were going to, and then five wire thin lines of light blazed out, and each pigeon was blasted to bits. She didn’t even flinch, and Malcolm threw out the next batch.
For the next twenty minutes this continued, with Malcolm varying the number and pattern of the targets at random. Sometimes he would throw two handfuls of pigeons, one shortly after another, to provide two sets of targets. And occasionally he would toss a blue pigeon that Quartz was not to shoot. It was a fiendishly hard shooting pattern, and he was fairly confident that no marksman with a conventional weapon could have managed it.
But Quartz was no mere conventional weapon. She didn’t miss a single target, and never hit any of the non-targets. As it was, when the pile of targets was gone, Quartz was feeling much better, and Malcolm was grinning like a fool. Without a word, the two of them walked back to the clearing in the center of the island, and sat at the picnic table that they had set up, as they heard the sound of a motorboat approaching. Soundlessly, they looked at Jet.
The ebony young woman cocked her head, narrowing her eyes, and then blinked. “It’s Lisa and Nora with food. Hope you guy’s like KFC,” she smirked as she sat down. Her training was different. She was trying to refine her precognitive abilities. They only ran about a minute ahead, but as they had learned these last ten days, they showed her ALL the possibilities for the next minute or so. That made predicting what was going to happen less a matter of power, and more a matter of skill. Jet had to wade through millions of possible futures to determine what was most likely to happen. In most cases, it was easier to just ignore it, and just let things happen.
Still, it was useful for things like knowing who was at the door before they rang the bell, and once an attack was committed to, she saw it, but she was hardly the golden man. Still, it was less then a minute later when Lisa walked out of the tree line with a pair of giant KFC buckets, and a moment later Agent Davies followed with two large bags bearing the logo of the self-same establishment.
Smiles and greetings all around, and the five of them settled in for lunch. Quartz snagged a fried chicken eighth and asked politely waited until the others had seized their own bounties of crispy fried goodness before beginning her interrogation. “So, how’d the sleuthing go?” She tried not to sound too anxious, but it was a challenge, and one she just barely lost.
Lisa chuckled at the rather uncharacteristic loss of the young white woman’s detached calm. “Quite well, but its bad news on my end I’m afraid, darling,” she all but purred after she swallowed. “I’ve confirmed the identity of your pursuer, and I was correct in my analysis earlier, much though I wish I wasn’t.” Her tone fell from winsome to wistful. “Are any of you familiar with the name Jack Daniels?”
Assuming that she didn’t mean the whisky, and rather a very unfortunately named person, Malcolm and Agent Davies shook their head. Jet looked like someone had just stabbed her, though, and Quartz let out a totally unmanly screech. “WHO!?” she exclaimed, loudly enough to startle a nearby bird into flight, and glared at Lisa.
Lisa bowed her head, and then cocked her head and looked at Quartz. “You knew him, then?”
Jet spoke up. “In a manner of speaking. Quartz was sorta an online pen pall of his. I traded jabs with him on one of the message boards over a few fighters once or twice. Why does it matter? He’s dead.”
Quartz sank back down onto the bench, and grabbed another piece of chicken, growling darkly. Lisa just cocked an eyebrow at Jet and asked calmly, “If so, then what is a post MORFS hair from him doing in the baggage car with Malcolm’s bike on the ride up here?”
Jet looked flummoxed. “That… That’s… That’s not possible. He’s dead. Hothead held an online memorial. I was on for it. He died of MORFS complications at a clinic in New York. I know where he’s BURIED damn it!” She slammed her fist into the table hard enough to make the plates rattle.
Lisa frowned mightily, an odd expression on her pretty face. “I know. I’ve been investigating his death myself. The clinic he was at had a doctor, a MORFS survivor who was a gender swap. Came out looking really nice, but that’s it, no powers, no real upgrades, just a straight swap, boobs for her dick.” She smirked. “She seemed to think it was a bad trade, though I have no idea why. She had an unusually high number of MORFS related deaths, so an inquiry was launched into the standard of care after she let the oldest son, a certified genius, of the two most famous American game designers in the last twenty years die of depletion.”
At the puzzled looks from around the table, she clarified. “It’s why the clinic program got railroaded through congress over people like your father. In some cases, if the body tries to change too quickly and doesn’t get the right nutrients, or enough of them, it cannibalizes itself. It’s like starvation, only much faster. Neither pleasant nor difficult to prevent.” She snarled, “And there is NO reason for it to happen under any sort of care. You mostly see it in the homeless or the children of fanatics who refuse to get their children care for one reason or another.
“Apparently, this woman had been passing off a number of death certificates due to depletion as a result of poor funding. After the Walker death, an investigation was launched. It found that the woman was a Pure, of a sort. She was much like your father, even belonged to a few of the same political groups. Believed that there was nothing wrong with MORFS itself, per se, but rather with hybrids or those with unusual anatomical changes. She apparently took her gender change as a challenge, and was researching MORFS, attempting to find some sort of way to reverse its effects, and was apparently diverting funds from the clinic to fuel her obsession.” She shook her head. “When it all came out into the open, it was a huge scandal in the medical profession, and New York. The good doctor was found dangling from a rope in her apartment a few days later, just before being subpoenaed by the Queens District Attorney’s office.”
Jet looked at her. “So, what does this have to do with Black Label being our stalker?”
Quartz spoke up, her voce quavering slightly with suppressed rage, “Think it through, Jet. She declared him dead from depletion, and supplied a body for the press. Then he turns up here, over a year later, being used like a hunting dog.” She paused to let that sink in. “She SOLD him, and then listed him as dead. She probably did it a lot, and this time she didn’t recognize that she had someone who had once made the papers. Most of her,” she paused, and then spat out, “merchandise,” was likely orphans or homeless kids. Nobody would notice if a bunch of them died from something like this.”
Lisa nodded. “What’s more, about half a dozen of the staff on her floor of the clinic vanished right after her suicide. And I really don’t buy the suicide. She left a letter that basically claimed that she couldn’t bear the suffering of being in a body warped by MORFS any longer. That’s bull. Her research was brilliant, and from her notes, she obviously believed that she was getting somewhere. Even if she was convicted, and lost her license, her work would have been snapped up by one of the pharmacorps, which it was, and pursued. She lived over twenty years using that work as a bulwark against the confusion caused by her mental state.” She shook her head. “And I doubt she was Gender Dysphoric either. She knew about the condition, and had gotten counseling about it. I think that she was just pissed off at loosing her prospects as an athlete. She was supposedly a big deal back in her younger days on the football field.” She arched an eyebrow at the twins at that.
They looked at each other and shared a look indecipherable to outsiders. “Well, now that we’ve figured that piece of hellishly bad news,” Jet snarled, “how about we figure out what we’re going to do about it.”
Malcolm shrugged. “Not much to do,” he replied while munching on his chicken, seemingly unperturbed.
Agent Davies looked shocked. “What do you mean? There has to be something. We’ve got PROOF of at least part of this thing here. We have to do something!”
Malcolm raised an eyebrow, and then pointed at her with his half eaten drumstick. “Yup, you’re right, we’ve got proof. And if we show anybody this proof, their gonna ask where we got it, and then HOW we got it, and they why we drew the conclusions we did, and then we get to go to jail for about half a dozen felonies that we’ve committed on this trip.” He sighed. “We can’t do squat.
“Yet.”
Agent Davies sighed, and frowned slightly. “Maybe…” she muttered, “no, but, huh…” she trailed off.
Everyone at the table stopped eating and stared at her while she crunched her way through a chicken thigh. Finally, she noticed the attention. “What?” she asked the assembled stares.
Malcolm sighed. “Dear, you’ve obviously had a thought. You may as well share.” Malcolm glanced at Jet. “Or the obsidian one may decide to simply split your skull and take it from your brain with her bare hands.”
Agent Davies raised an eyebrow at Jet who snarled theatrically and hefted the katana on the table. Raising her hands in mock panic, she explained. “I’ve been going through the good Senator’s muck files, and I’ve come across something interesting. Have you two ever heard of a man named Linus Caverhall?”
Jet shrugged in silent expression of her lack of recognition. Quartz however, seemed to latch onto some fragment of distant memory. “Huh, Caverhall? I think I recognize it. Tall guy, stupidly thin, sunken eyes and cheeks?”
Davies nodded. “That matches the few photo’s that were in the files.” She frowned. “That man is remarkably hard to track down. Even your father couldn’t get much on him. Talk about black holes, that man is a PIT. Thing is, what I CAN find about him is fucking scary.”
Everyone at the table stopped and stared at the FBI agent. They had known her for about two weeks now, and she simply didn’t curse. She shot a stare around the table. “What? Do you know what he does? He’s a doctor. He’s got eight Ph.D.’s in everything from Biochemistry to Zoology. The thing is, that’s just about it. His current employment, his residence, his everything, all classified D.O.D. Everything but his religious affiliations. He’s a Deacon in the Church of the Divine Image.”
Davies stopped and let that little piece of information circulate through the brains of everybody present. Jet seemed to sum up the thoughts of everyone present, save Malcolm, with the simple and expedient statement of, “Well, crap.”
Malcolm looked around. “What am I missing?”
Jet and Quartz shared a look, and then Quartz seemed to be delegated as spokesperson. “Well, our father isn’t QUITE a member, but they’re one of his larger donors. We’ve had a few gatherings of the nuts in the house from time to time. They’re a fairly normal Christian church; as such things go, except for one small detail. They take that line in genesis about how Adam was made ‘in the image of God’ to mean that the basic human form is what gives you a soul, and that having animalistic features means you DON’T have one. Fucking wankers, the lot of ‘em.”
Davies spoke up. “And this guy is one of their Deacons, and is heading a D.O.D. Black Box on MORFS, according to your father.”
Malcolm scowled. “Right, well, if we’re looking for someone capable of this kind of atrocity, then it looks like we’ve hit our own little version of the perfect storm. Brilliant, driven, and fanatically religious, and in such a way that he honestly believes that his victims don’t have souls anymore.” He thought for a minute. “Hey, Li, what about the doc from the clinic, or better yet her staff?”
Lisa frowned, and then nodded. “That is not a bad avenue to pursue. If there is a connection there, then we might actually be on to something.”
Davies nodded. “I’ll leave that end of things to you, then. I’ve got my own end of things to work on.” She paused, and interjected, “Oh, did I tell you? I’ve gotten a transfer.”
Lisa looked at her in surprise. “No! Isn’t that a bad thing?”
Davies smirked. “Well, normally, it would be, and don’t any of you start gossiping about this, but I got a call from the director of the Internal Affairs department. It’s funny, really. They spotted the order that got me up here on leave, and it set of every red flag they have. I mean, really, telling a professional investigator that her job isn’t to investigate a suspicious circumstance. Really now.”
Malcolm shrugged. “So, what’s the deal?”
Davies leaned forward and smiled. “I get my own team, hand picked by The Director Himself, no less, to investigate what REALLY happened in that house, what influences are being brought to bear to influence the conventional investigation, and the files that were uncovered in the initial investigation. It seems that there have been several attempts to bury that whole line of inquiry.”
Quartz grinned like she just found a presidential pardon in her chicken. Jet pumped a fist into the air. “Boo Yah! Finally, a point for the good guys!” She spiked her gnawed bone into the empty bucket. “What are you waiting around here for? Get out there and prove we are who we say we are, why don’t you,” she taunted the agent, grinning ear to ear.
“I’ll get on that,” she grinned back, “you just remember that you’re going to have to make this work from your end too, you know.”
Quartz smiled. “We know. It’s just nice to see something go our way for a change, finally.”
Malcolm stood up and grunted. “Well, then we’d best be getting a move on. Can I trust the two of you to mind yourselves for a bit?”
Jet leered at the Special Forces soldier. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be good, I promise…”
Malcolm shook his head at the young woman, and put his arms around the other two departing women, “Well then ladies, shall we?”
Lisa and Davies started giggling madly as the three of them walked away, and Jet and Quartz busied themselves with cleaning up their picnic lunch. “Well,” Jet opined, “back to the salt mines?”
Quartz shrugged. “Might as well get in as much practice as we can,” she opined. She held out her fist to her sister. “Looking up.”
Jet rapped knuckles with her sister. “Looking up.”
They got back to practicing.
Malcolm stood on the platform with agent Davies and hugged her tightly. “I’ll miss you, Nora.”
The departing FBI agent hugged the big man back. “I’ll call you when I get in. Give me a ring when you get to Chicago.”
Malcolm sighed, and stroked her green hair. “I’ll see you around?”
Agent Davies smirked. “You bet your butt you will. But it’s time for us to get to work. That means that I have to get out of here, so that you aren’t distracted. It’s time to go to work, Mal.”
Malcolm released her, and stepped back. He nodded, “That it is.” She smiled, and boarded the train. She stared at him from the window of her compartment, and as the train pulled away, she snapped him a parting salute. He returned the salute, grinning, and watched until the train was out of sight. Then he bowed his head, and nodded. “Time to go to work. Damn straight.”
He spun on his heel and strode away briskly, his manner all business and professional violence.
The next morning, his mood had mellowed somewhat. The day began with a meeting at the twins. The four of them were seated at the table in the twin’s makeshift home. Malcolm took a break in devouring his Patented Breakfast Sandwichâ„¢ to comment on the surroundings. “It still surprises me what you managed to accomplish here.”
Jet shrugged, and tossed a balled up wrapper into the trash across the room. “Eh, not really a big deal. Most of the makings for this thing were already here. I just did some impromptu shopping, and there we go.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “I’m actually impressed that you knew what you would need, given your background.”
Quartz laughed. “You mean since we were spoiled rich kids, we shouldn’t know how to put together something livable?”
“Well,” Lisa laughed, “yes, actually. It’s a skill one wouldn’t expect.”
Jet laughed. “We never particularly wanted that little condo that father made our wing into. We were going to Duke for more then just the wholesome religious atmosphere.” She snorted at that last.
Malcolm snorted. “Wholesome religious atmosphere my ass. I went to West Point, and let me tell you, if you want religion, find a foxhole.”
Quartz saluted with her coffee. “Amen. Or a locker room.”
Lisa smiled. “I take it you like a good, wholesome religious atmosphere?”
“God yes,” Jet said, “pardon the pun, but that was one of the things I liked about Benedict. He may have lost half the faithful over it, but the Decree of 2010 was the best thing that man ever did.”
“Pissed of father something fierce, though,” Quartz mused. “It’s why we were baptized protestant. Mom never did approve of that. Why’d you bring it up?”
Lisa smiled. “I’ve been in touch with an old friend of mine from high school, and he’s agreed to take you in while you’re in Chicago.”
Malcolm smiled. “Ah, Doug agreed?”
Lisa nodded. “I just told him you were persecuted MORFS survivors who were being railroaded back home by an influential father, and you needed to get out of town, if you’re concerned.”
Malcolm snorted. “Not exactly a lie, anyway.”
Lisa jabbed back, “He knows I’m omitting things. He trusts me.”
Quartz chimed in, “So what makes him competent to hide us, then?”
Lisa and Malcolm both smirked. “Because,” Lisa began, “his full title is Monsignor Douglas Rosenfield of Her Lady of Angels O.F.M.”
Quartz just stared at her, and then Jet squeaked, “He runs a freaking cathedral?”
Lisa smiled. “And is a Franciscan Monk, to boot. He played football with Mal, back in high school, and managed to luck out in the MORFS department. He got an eye/hair color change, end of story. Most mild case I’ve ever heard of. Then again, he still looks and sounds like he’s in his early twenties despite being my age, so take that for what you will.”
Quartz smiled slightly. “What the hell. If you can’t trust a priest, who the fuck can you trust, eh?”
Jet shrugged. “Not much we can do about it anyways at this point.” She smiled eerily at the two older members of the group. “So, what’s the plan for getting us there?”
Malcolm shrugged. “Well, I figured that you’d just take a train.” When the twins shot him an un-amused look he shrugged. “It worked last time, right. Look, there’s no way you can make it through airport security, so flying into O’Hare is out. I really don’t think you want to try to drive it, much less walk, so rail it is.”
Quartz rolled her eyes, a gesture more of the head and neck then her actual eyes at this point, given her unique ocular apparatus. “Well, I’ll grant you that it’s probably the only option at this point, but can we travel in slightly more comfort this time?”
Lisa nodded. “That’s the plan. If the dark one here can hold an illusion over two people at once, we can set up a chartered car on an Amtrak liner headed into Chicago. That’ll give you privacy, and comfort.”
Jet smiled. “I like that. I really really like that.” She cocked her head to the side, and blinked slowly. “I think I can manage it. Only one way to find out, I guess.”
Malcolm shrugged. “So we go take a walk, and I guess I go as somebody else today.” He smirked at his partner in crime, all four of them laughed.
When the mirth subsided somewhat, Jet inquired of her sister and Lisa, “So, while me `n Mal are out strolling around, what are you two going to be up to?”
Quartz shrugged, but there was a certain air of expectation about her that was most interesting. Lisa simply smiled, and nodded at the tablet in the corner. “I think we’ll try to get the train situation worked out, how about that.”
Malcolm stood, and rolled his shoulders under the shirt he wore. “Sounds good. Well, come on girlie, we’ve got work to do.” So saying, he strode towards the door, and Jet scrambled to follow him.
When they had gone, Quartz looked at Lisa, and shrugged. She stood, and slowly stretched. “Well,” she drawled, “we should probably get to work ourselves, then, eh?” Lazily, she wandered over and picked up her tablet.
Lisa smiled slowly, and stood herself, and dumped the empty wrappers, bags, and other detritus from breakfast into the makeshift trash bin. “How about we adjourn to a more comfortable setting first, though,” she replied, with a sly look at her chalk white companion.
Quartz smiled slightly, and without a word left the room and headed down to the twins more private room. The one with the bed. It was quite some time later till they got around to doing anything with the tablet, though.
Jet closed the door behind her, with both herself and Malcolm wrapped in an illusory disguise. She shot Malcolm a look as they walked down the street towards the bus stop. “If that bed smells like sex when I get in there tonight, I’m going to kill you, Mal.”
Malcolm laughed, a deep, full, belly laugh. “We’re leaving tomorrow, kid. Let’em have some time to themselves.”
There was nothing that Jet could say to that, so she shrugged, and the two of them walked in silence for a few more minutes. Then Jet smiled, and glanced over at Malcolm. “Well, they’re definitely making some good use of that time.”
Malcolm raised an eyebrow, and Jet made a point of having the disguise follow suit. In response to his unspoken question, she responded, “Empathic link, remember. She’s either having sex with Lisa, or in the bathroom giving herself the hottest hand job I’ve ever heard of.”
Malcolm laughed again. “Good for them. You’re all right with this?”
Jet shrugged. “The sex, yeah, you go girl,” she pumped her arm up and down. “The fact that my sister is falling in love with your friend there,” she shrugged, “that’s harder.”
Malcolm nodded. “How so?” he asked, politely trying to draw the self contained young woman into a discussion.
She shrugged again, an uncomfortable gesture. “On one hand, I’m thrilled that my sister is falling in love with a beautiful person, who seems to love her just as much. Even if their relationship is just a bit hinky.” She smiled slightly. “On the other, I’m rather jealous.”
Malcolm sighed. “Why not you?”
“Yup.” Jet sighed. “You know, like, how does she get this lucky. Is there anyone out there that I’ll feel that way about? What if I do find someone, and they aren’t immortal like me?”
Malcolm looked around a bit, and not seeing anyone, he nodded, coming to some internal decision. “Look, that last one, don’t concern yourself with. This isn’t something that anyone wants getting out, but Li can do more then her own youth bit. She can do other people too. Only with that, it’s a physical reset more then anything else. It’s not something that she wants becoming common knowledge, for obvious reasons.”
Jet nodded. “Well, that’s certainly helpful. I suppose that looking at it long term, if I’m around long enough, I’ll find someone sooner or later, eh?”
Malcolm nodded. “Yup. Sooner or later, you’ll find someone to spend your life with. It’s a perk of agelessness.”
Jet looked up at the sky. Then she turned, and smiled at Malcolm. “Thanks Mal. Now, since we both know that I can do this, what’s the real point of this trip.”
“Other then giving your sister and Li a chance to be alone together for a few hours?”
Jet shot him a look, and just then, the bus pulled up to the stop. As they waited for the door to open, Malcolm got in the last word. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” And then the door opened, and the ritual of paying the toll and seating themselves prevented any reply on the part of Jet. She sat sulked, while Malcolm smiled this content little smile, and the bus carried them into the heart of Seattle.
As Wolf watched the two figures, who he assumed were Jet and Malcolm, walk away, he leaned back and smiled a little. So the targets watchers, that ever so dangerous soldier and the damned Bio-Elemental, were leaving tomorrow, and the twins were staying put for another two days. That was good.
When the moaning started in the headset, he turned it off and put it aside. He strolled over to the bed and flopped down. The white one would be at it all day with her lover, and the black one was obviously out on the town with the soldier. It would be hours till they got back, and he could go over the tapes later. He needed sleep now, so that he could get into position for later, and he really didn’t need to listen to a pair of lesbians going at it. It reminded him of how alone he was. He would strike tomorrow, at any rate; hopefully the targets would provide him with a good opportunity. He hoped that the target would be strong enough to fight him off, though. He could use a turn of good luck.
Quartz hugged Lisa as the sun set over the city, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ll see you in Chicago, right?”
“I’ll be waiting. You know the place?” she whispered back into her lover’s ear.
Quartz smiled tightly. “Her Lady of Angels, how could I forget?” She paused for a moment, and then continued, “I’d come to see you off, but I can’t, can I?”
“Not really. Relax, it’s only for a few days, and I think that today was memorable enough to keep us both sated for a while, eh?”
They both laughed for a bit, and then they separated, slowly and reluctantly. Quartz’s hand lingered on Lisa’s for a long moment, and she sighed. “Four days, right?”
Lisa smiled, and caressed her lover’s hand. “Four days. I’ll see you then.” She quickly backed up, sliding her hand out of Quartz’s, and slipped out the door. Quartz leaned back and slumped against the wall, as the woman who had become a large part of her life climbed on the back of Malcolm’s bike, and the two of them drove off.
Once they were away from the twins’ hideout, Malcolm slowed down a bit, and asked over his shoulder, “How serious is this one, for you?”
Lisa sighed, and leaned into his back. “Quite. I may have actually fallen for this one. How ironic. Me, the lesbian succubus-nymph, smitten by a living statue. How Pygmalion.”
Malcolm let out a chuckle. “I’m fairly sure that your living statue is just as smitten as you are.”
Lisa smiled, slightly, at that. “Then this little separation is for the best then.”
“How so?”
“Well, right now, our relationship is driven primarily by our libidos, both of which are rather high. By being apart, we can let that part of ourselves cool off, and we’ll both find out if this thing goes deeper then just mind-consuming lust.”
Malcolm laughed. “I’d have thought you’d be used to that kind of lust by now. It’s been what, fifteen, sixteen years since you MORFed?”
Lisa punched him, lightly. “We’ll both be thirty five in August, which makes it twenty to the day. You know that. Gods, getting MORFS on my birthday.”
Malcolm shrugged. “Yeah, not the best birthday present I’ve ever heard of, eh?”
Lisa smiled under her helmet. “Oh, I don’t know. I rather like it. It’s certainly fun enough,” she said with a lewd undertone. “I know I bitched about it at the time, but looking back, MORFS is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Malcolm sighed. “Even if it did break us up?”
Lisa smiled. “Hey, it worked out in the end. And besides, I didn’t hear you complaining when we tested our compatibility junior year.”
Malcolm laughed again. “No seventeen year old boy is EVER going to complain about having wild sex with a professional nymphomaniac, ever. And no man worth his balls is ever going to regret plowing YOUR field, you minx you.”
Lisa laughed. “Why thank you for that honest and homely complement, Mal. I’m flattered.” She changed the subject with a sudden interrogative. “So? What about you and Nora?”
Malcolm chuckled. “We’ll see. We’re certainly compatible. Long term remains to be seen.”
“You know, for all our intensity in high school, we never really had that quiet peace that you and her have.” Lisa leaned back into Malcolm and sighed.
“I know,” Malcolm sighed back at the feel of her pressing against him. “It’s taken me a while, but I think that something slow, relaxed, in a relationship is really what I needed all along.” He smiled, “And it would have done nothing but piss you off.” Lisa giggled into his back. “As you said, it all worked out in the end.”
Lisa smiled. “Yes, it did. Now we just need to keep it from falling apart.”
Back in the warehouse, Quartz sighed, and levered herself up. Her sister poked her head in, and inquired, “So, all the sighing and longing looks over with?”
Quartz smiled at the gentle mocking humor in her sister’s voice. “Yup, at least till we get to Chicago. Then you get to endure the hugging and kissing and general sappy reunion.”
Jet smiled, and walked her sister back towards their bedroom. “God I hope so. Seeing you two together is a pleasure.”
“Even if it does make you jealous?”
“Even if. At least one of us has someone. I’ll find someone eventually. One of the perks of immortality, as Malcolm pointed out.”
“Well, thank you for that. I really do care for her, and I didn’t want to hurt you…”
“I know,” Jet laughed. “Empathic link, remember? I just hope I do have to suffer through your rendition of ‘Sappy reunion in Lesbian Major’, I really do.”
Quartz suddenly turned serious. “A vision?”
Jet laughed. “Oh god no. I would have told you. More of a hunch. It feels like for these last two weeks we’ve been lazing along, having a bit of a rest as we drift down the river. And now I’m hearing rapids. Things are going to pick up speed again.”
Quartz frowned. “So, what, we’ve got another disaster incoming?”
Jet laughed. “Oh gods no, at least I don’t think so. More like events are going to start picking up again, only now, instead of being driven along in front of them, we’re meeting them head on, and we’re in control.” She slapped her sister on the shoulder, and walked inside the bedroom. “Come on, we’ve got a picnic out on the island tomorrow, and we need to get some rest. Get in here already.”
Quartz shook her head, and smiled. Jet was right, she really needed to relax and get some rest. So what if events started moving again, she liked it when things were happening. Only this time, they were ready, and they would be the ones doing the happening, not the other way around. She shook her head one more time, and walked in to her bedroom to get some sleep.
That night the twins slept holding each other, and had dreams of days to come, where they lived in peace, and all was well. In a nearby warehouse, with line of sight to the one they slumbered in, a disturbed Wolf sat in thought. They had given him the perfect opportunity, in the picnic, and his programming wouldn’t let him pass it up. He had hoped that they wouldn’t expose themselves, but they had, and now he had to act.
He curled up on his pile of cardboard that he used as a bed, and whimpered to himself. He didn’t want to do this, but the collar left him no choice. Tomorrow, against his will, and with a heart heavy with regret, Jack Daniels would do everything in his power to capture two innocent girls, and haul them off to a life of pain, torture, and slavery. A tear rolled it’s way down his muzzle under his fur as he prayed to any God that would listen for forgiveness for what he was about to do.
Slowly, fitfully, he lapsed into a sleep that was blissfully dreamless.
The next morning dawned crisp and clear, a perfectly beautiful day in early July, and the absolutely perfect day for a picnic. The twins took off from the front of their building without a word, cloaked in invisibility by Jet, and Quartz took pains to stay as close as possible to her sister. They each carried a small bag, with a bathing suit bought on Jet’s outing yesterday and a fresh pair of underwear. Jet also carried one of her katana. She hardly ever went anywhere without one, if she could get away with it. Quartz was beginning to think that it was like a security blanket for her sister.
They landed in a small clearing screened on all sides from view from the water, and slowly laid there things aside and stretched. There were already blankets and lounge chairs here, a gift laid out a few days ago by Malcolm and the gang specifically for today. The two stripped down, laying the now customary flying outfits and coats aside, and pulled out their swimsuits. Jet had kept them in the packaging until now, and had packed the bags, so this was Quartz’s first time seeing them. She was shocked.
“What the hell is this?” she finally managed to sputter.
Jet looked over, the mirth coming off of her in waves. “It’s a bikini.”
“It’s two tissues, a napkin and some string, is what it is,” Quartz retorted. The swimsuit in question really was rather revealing. The bottom was modest enough, if rather tight, but the top was ridiculous. It was just two triangles of fabric, meant to go over the nipples, with some string to tie behind the neck and around the back. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination and everything on display. And as always, it was black.
“What, it’s not like anyone but me will see you, anyways. Besides, you’ll look hot,” was the only reply from Jet.
Quartz sighed, but slowly and reluctantly donned the garment. “And this is why you kept these things in the bags and didn’t let me see them before today.” It was a statement, not a question.
Jed shrugged. “You’d over react, like you did, and besides, you’re the one who gave Birdie a free show back home.”
Quartz finished tying the minimal covering on herself, and adjusted everything so it felt comfortable. “Well, happy birthday, you.”
Jet, who had finished donning her white but otherwise identical swimsuit, slowly lowered herself down onto one of the lounge chairs, and sighed. “And a happy Independence Day to you, as well.”
Quartz reached into the cooler she had hefted over, drew out a beer, and tossed it to her sister. Taking one out herself, she saluted her sister with the bottle, and lay down on the other lounge. The two of them relaxed, and caught some sun. They had a breakfast of fruit and bagels, and wiled away the morning, taking their ease.
In the mean time, a pair of wolfish eyes watched from the shadow of the trees, and a dark bulk shifted in shadow, waiting.
The morning passed without incident, and noon arrived without fanfare or herald. The twins had planned to cook up some burgers on an old charcoal grill, but when they went to look for it, they found that their supply of fuel had been exhausted by the week’s earlier activities, and never refilled.
Jet looked down into the ash filled bowl of the barbeque, and then into the charcoal bag, and shook it. A few bits of loose dust made a hollow rattling. “You would think, being as how I can fucking see the fucking future, I would have fucking spotted this.”
Quartz chuckled. “This isn’t a total disaster. I think I remember a few more bags in the boat on the trip back. Malcolm must have just forgotten to bring them over. Let me go get ‘em.”
Jet sighed. “Right. You know, given that this is our birthday, I should just hope that this is the worst thing that goes wrong today.” She looked at the grill, and shrugged. “I guess I’ll clean this out, and have it ready to go for when you get back,” she said as her sister turned to go.
Quartz’s only response was to raise a hand and wave, as she vanished into the trees. Jet looked after her for a moment, and then sighed, and hauled the grill to the lounge that she had spent the morning napping on. Setting it down, she walked over to the garbage pail that they had left about, and dragged that over as well. With a sigh of resignation, she tipped the grill over into the trash can, and started to shake it out.
Now, one might think that, given her demeanor and casual attitude, she would have been surprised when the seven foot wolf man leapt from the edge of the woods, almost ten yards away, and with nearly silent grace crossed the distance to her position in three great bounds. Wolf certainly thought she would be. But she had seen it coming well in advance, and was simply waiting.
Moments before his outstretched claws would have closed around her neck, she slowed time. Moving quickly, so as to not exert herself unnecessarily, she rolled out from under his grasp, seizing her katana as she did so, and with a single upwards motion, unsheathed the blade and sliced through his outstretched arm, connecting at the shoulder. The razor sharp blade sheared skin, muscle and bone with contemptuous ease, and a spray of blood drenched the poor helpless lounge chair.
She dropped the time dilation as her blade connected, and took a step back. Wolf’s reaction to his seemingly unaware prey suddenly blurring out of his grasp and in the same breath having his arm lopped off was rather predictable. He screamed. His next response did startle Jet more then somewhat, though. He spun, seized his severed arm, and roughly slapped in against the bleeding stump.
The two of them stood there, staring at each other, separated my only a few feet of air, and a blood drenched lounge. Wolf’s breath came in ragged gasps, as he fought off pain, and he clutched the arm to the stump. They stood there staring at each other for a span of ten heartbeats. And then the real shock came, at least for Jet. The fingers of the severed right arm twitched, and he slowly released the arm, and straightened up. He spread his hand, flexing the fingers, almost as if he was testing to make sure everything worked, and then stood and flexed. He rolled his head and shoulders, and seemed to settle.
Jet looked on shocked as the evidence suggested that this monster had just reattached his own severed arm. Quickly recovering her senses, she smiled and jibed, “Neat trick. What did you miss when I said that I could see the fucking future though? The see, or the future?”
Hearing human speech from a seven and a half foot tall wolf man is an odd thing, especially when that same voice is deep, rumbly, and has the sort of sound that implies that the owner of said voice would be just as happy to eat you as chat with you. It’s even weirder when that same evil movie villain voice cracks wise back at you, such as when Wolf responded to Jet’s taunting jibe with a wry, “The part where it meant that you could move that fast.”
He lunged at her again, and she spun out of the way, bringing her sword cleanly through his ribs, and skipped back a few steps as he tumbled forward. He turned the pain filled sprawl into a forward roll, and cleanly came to his feet and turned to face her. “You know, you can’t beat me, Jack,” she remarked as she faced him down over the blade.
Wolf looked at her, startled, and for a moment paused. “You know my name...,” he growled, and then started as the collar prodded him into attacking again.
Again, Jet smoothly evaded the lunge, and again Wolf was left with a bloody gash through his chest that healed nearly instantly. He snarled, and then began to circle. “How, if I may ask, do you think you know who I am?”
Jet kept her guard up, and followed him with her blade. “I used to chat with you online, till you vanished last year.” She shrugged without loosing her guard. “My sister was more involved then I was. Remember Crystallis?”
That actually stopped him for a moment, and he cursed softly under his breath. “Kill me,” he snarled. Then he leapt at her.
She sidestepped and put a slice between his fourth and fifth ribs as he passed. This time he didn’t stop when he landed. The wound had already healed, and he simply spun and attacked again.
They danced in this manner for several minutes. He would attack. She would flow aside and administer a lethal blow. He would heal before he even stumbled, and turn and attack again. Over and over they continued this, until Jet, even with her trained skill, fighting conservatively, was beginning to tire. Wolf had noticed this.
“Stop fucking around and KILL ME!” he screamed at her as he leapt at her again.
Jet slipped aside and laid his throat open nearly to the spine. He stumbled that time, but a moment later, he recovered, and turned to her, momentarily silent as his vocal cords re-attached themselves.
“I’m trying here, Jack,” she gasped, “but you’re just a little hard to hurt.”
He swarmed at her, low, and she was forced to leap away, unable to strike without giving him an opportunity to get a hand on her. When she landed, he snarled, “Then I guess you’re going to find yourself in the cell next to me, then.” He paused as she looked slightly puzzled, and then continued, “You’re getting tired.”
She evaded his next rush, and realized that he was right. Even fighting at her most conservative, she was tiring out. While she could warp time to keep out of his reach, when her blade was in him he moved at the same time frame as she did. It limited her options, and against an opponent who seemingly didn’t get injured or exhausted, she could not win. Eventually, she would exhaust her reserves, and then he would be on her. There was only one outcome.
She had lost.
But that assumed that she was fighting alone. She wasn’t. It should only be a matter of a few moments, and then her sister would get back with the charcoal, see the fight, and then it would be over. Quartz could just hold him down. It was as simple as that.
She began to smile slightly, and a witty retort began to form on her lips, when a crashing sounded through the forest. Her incipient smile inverted itself rather promptly, and she found her hope harried by concern.
Wolf sighed audibly, and lunged again. Jet didn’t even bother trying to counter, she simply evaded. Counterblows would do no good, and she needed to conserve energy. Wolf growled at this change in her strategy and shouted. “What do you think that crashing was? I put a deadfall up for your sister back there, and she isn’t coming to help you!”
Jet dodged again, and laughed. “A deadfall? Is that all. I’m sorry Jack, but this is going to hurt you.” She laughed again. “But then, you did ask for it.”
There was an even louder crash, and then a loud and clear voice rang out over the island.
“Who the fuck do you think you are DEALING WITH!?!” Quartz’s voice rang out, clarion clear, as she raced into the clearing. She was holding most of a tree by one end, apparently the thing that had fallen on her, and with astonishing ease, swung it around.
While wolf stopped to stare at the astoundingly beautiful white woman in the black string bikini, Jet swiftly stepped back. This was a very wise move, as Quartz swung her tree like a gigantic baseball bat. With Wolf as the ball.
The tree struck with a bone shattering crack, and the blow picked wolf up, bent him double around the tree, and sent him sailing into the air. As he flew into the air, Quartz raised her hand from the perfect batters pose she was in, and an orb of angry light formed around it.
“See you later, dog breath!” she called, and blasted him. The beam of light that flew out was the largest that Jet had seen her sister use, and when it hit Wolf, the explosion was enormous. The fireball roared out, and the shockwave nearly flattened Jet. When the smoke cleared, there was no trace of Wolf.
Jet slowly walked over to her sister, and slowly, calmly, asked, “Why, exactly, did you do that?”
Quartz snarled at her sister. “Because that fucker dropped a goddamn TREE on me.” She gestured with the offending piece of flora in her hand. “He’s lucky that’s all I did.”
Jet sighed and looked up. “Thank god that you hit him in the chest. He’ll probably live.”
Quartz looked puzzled. “Uh, what? I’ve hit an airship with a blast weaker than that and it went all ‘blewey. What do you mean he probably survived?”
Jet shook her head. “I’ll explain on the way home. Let’s get changed and get the fuck out of here. That little fireworks display you just put on is going to be noticed. Let’s just hope we’re out of here before the fire service comes to check it out.”
Quartz shook her head, and looked chagrinned. “Right. Um, sorry about that. I think I got carried away, there.”
Jet shrugged, her own adrenalin high fading. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain later. It was probably the best thing you could have done for him, if you did kill him. Let’s go”
They two of them quickly finished changing back into their clothes, and vacated the island with all haste. As they left, they saw a small boat speeding towards the island. The boat was marked with Seattle fire department logos, and the twins looked at each other, and flew a little faster.
As the twins retreated back to the safety of their lair, the fire boat wasn’t the only thing in the water around that island. On the far side, caught in a current that would drag him out of the bay, a large furred body floated. There was a large hole in the upper torso, and burn and scorch marks all over.
As it floated away, the hole was slowly closing, and the body twitched slightly, a small motion, almost random, only not the result of some random impact or current. Slowly, inexorably, the body of Wolf, once known as Jack Daniels, floated away.
Many miles away, a thin man dressed in plain, nondescript clothing was loosing his temper. It had failed. Wolf had failed. This was impossible. Nothing could defeat Wolf. But he was dead. The monitor on his heart had stopped, and all transitions were cut off, save for the GPS locator on the collar. All it showed was that the animal’s body was washing away in the tide.
This was insufferable. Impossible. Unless…
Unless the Wolf had retained more free will then he thought. He could have just done something that would freeze him, deliberately, and wait for the target to behead him. That would kill him. But self termination? Just to spite the man who had trained him, shown him his rightful state, his place in the world now that his soul had been devoured by the syndrome? He wouldn’t have thought it possible. He still wasn’t sure.
But before that, he had business to attend to. He could recover the corpse of the failed weapon later. He had two new subjects to bring in. Hopefully ones that were more resilient than usual. They were going to be filling a large hole.
He picked up a nearby phone. “Yes, do you have a location?”
“Good, you found his surveillance location?”
“You have his records?”
“When can you move?”
“I need this sooner, they may move.”
“All right. Tomorrow night. Do not underestimate the target. Use overwhelming force. This target has overwhelmed light recon units without effort previously.”
“Fine. Better dead then in a competitor’s hands. But alive if you can manage it.”
He hung up, and frowned. This was a bad turn of events. He picked up the phone again. Arrangements needed to be made…
When the twins arrived at the warehouse, they slipped inside, and slumped into the makeshift chairs they had assembled. The adrenalin that had fueled them during the fight and subsequent escape had run out, and they were crashing hard.
Quartz looked up at her sister, and shrugged. “Ok, what the hell was that?”
Jet sighed, and looked at her sister sadly. “Black Label.”
“Oh, crap. I just killed Jack?”
Jet shook her head. “I doubt it. I chopped his arm off, and he just put it back on. I nearly beheaded him, and all it did was inconvenience him for a moment.” She sighed. “I doubt you killed him.”
Quartz leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. “Well, that’s good. So, now what?’
“I guess we get packing, and get ready to scram.”
“One more day.”
“Yup.”
“I hope Jack’s all right…”
“Yeah.”
The two of them sat like that, just staring at the steel beams of the roof, for a long time. Then seemingly of one mind, they got up and silently began to pack. They managed to sort and pack a great deal of their things, before the sun set, and while they did so, Jet filled Quartz in on all her observations of Jack. The white woman seemed lost in thought for a long time, and then, when the light had failed, the two of them decided to go to sleep. That night, it was Quartz who needed to be held, as the fear of what she may have in anger done ran through her mind.
The shore of the Puget Sound, north of Seattle, was a forested and mostly wild place. There were large swaths of the area protected as either state or federal parkland. Many of these parks contained beaches, allocated either for bathing or boating. Some however, were part of nature preserves, area’s set aside as wildlife habitats.
It was on one such beach that a pack of Dire Wolves were lairing in a rocky outcropping. The dire wolf was an odd creation of MORFS. It was a persistent mutation, much like the Eagox, only this mutation wasn’t a melding of two species, it was an enhancement of one. The North American wolf was already a fearsome predator. Make it the size of a horse, with the intellect of a chimpanzee or dolphin, and the ability to change the coloration of its pelt to better blend into its surroundings and mute sound around it, and you have a terrifying predator indeed.
This pack had decided to lair on this beach because it contained a large, rocky outcropping that allowed the half a dozen members of the pack to lair out of the weather. It was a new pack, its members having just broken away from a larger pack that ranged further inland to the north, and they had decided to claim this area as the heart of their new territory. It was far too close to the old pack for their comfort, but they had nowhere else to go. They were nervous, and their scout was roaming the beach when he found it.
It was a body. It was small, but it smelled like a wolf. It smelled like Pack, like and Alpha. The scout sniffed it, his curiosity peaked. He liked this small wolf, and he felt that it was important to protect him. He cocked his head, and sniffed at it again. Then, making up his mind, he bent his head, and scooped the body into his mouth. Turning, he headed back to his pack. They needed to see this.
Wolf moaned softly as he swam back to consciousness, pain shooting through his body as he moved slightly. He heard a voice at his ear, “Is it hurt?” The voice was soft, and had the tone of a very small child.
Another voice whispered into his other ear, “Many scars…” Again, it seemed like it was a small child speaking. Wolf couldn’t place why, exactly, that it seemed that way. Perhaps it was the sing song cadence. Perhaps it was the slightly breathy tone in the voice. Perhaps it was something else.
A third voice chimed in. “Far from home. Far from pack. Collared.”
The second voice came back. “He stirs…”
Wolf pulled himself upright, and blinked several times, and the world slowly swam into focus. He was on a beach, under some rocks. He shook his head, and a large black shape pressed into his frame of vision. The first voice came back into his awareness. “He wakes…”
His vision cleared, and the head of the biggest wolf he had ever seen swam into focus. “Huh,” he muttered to himself, “I lived. What a pain.”
The third voice seemed puzzled, “You hurt?” A second massive wolf head leaned over him, and cocked itself sideways, seeming puzzled.
A third head poked it in the side. “He hurt,” the second voice said. The new head looked down at him. “You lead?”
Slowly, Wolf forced himself to sit up. As he did so, he heard the sound of large things moving away from him. “What?” he asked, puzzled. “Who are you?”
The first voice came back. “We Water Rock Pack. We are good wolves.” As it said this, the largest wolf that Wolf had ever seen stepped in front of him, and crouched. Lying flat on the floor, its head came up to his waist.
He leaned over to it, and slowly reached out to touch it. “Dire wolves…” he murmured, still in shock.
The second voice spoke up, and he turned to see two more wolves lying flat beside him. “You lead?”
“It’s you,” Wolf muttered. “I’m hearing the wolves…” He looked around, and saw another three Dire Wolves trying to hide behind the edge of the rock formation he and the wolves were under. He turned to the first wolf and asked it, “How did I get here?”
The first voice came back. “CleverSeeker was looking at Water. He find.” The large wolf pointed his nose at the smaller of the two wolves off to the side. Wolf turned to address the indicated wolf.
Before he could speak, the wolf seemed to perk up; its ear’s going from flat to erect, and its head coming off the floor. “I find. I bored, so I go look at water. I find. You smell nice. Like you help. I bring back. You be Alpha?” As he listened to this, Wolf realized something. He wasn’t actually ‘hearing’ this. It was showing up in his head, half as images, and half as words. He was just translating it into a spoken language because that was the closest thing he could get to this kind of communication. Then he noticed that the other two were looking at the smaller one, almost like they wanted to attack him. Not so much with anger, as if the smaller one had said something that they wished he hadn’t…
He turned to the first one. Making an effort, he thought at it. *You are the Alpha of this pack?*
*Yes* came back the reply, in the first ‘voice’.
*Why do you need my help?* he asked the wolf.
*We leave old Pack, come here. Old Pack have good Place. Much Prey. Moose. Bear. Roc. This Place not so good. Not so much Prey. Men. Men to south, east. Not get too close, or men come with Guns, hurt Pack.*
Wolf looked around. The wolves looked lean, but not starving. *Are you starving? Is there not enough food?*
The second voice chimed in. *No, enough food for us, now.*
Wolf looked puzzled for a moment, and then looked at the second wolf again, and reflected on the voice. *Enough now. But not enough if you have pups.* He had realized something. That second vice was female.
The first voice came back. *Yes. You show us new Place. Where food. Where we raise pups.* The wolf looked incredibly sad. *You be Alpha.*
Wolf looked around, and thought. These wolves were here, and there was enough food for them. But not for long. There was only enough for a small pack, and they wanted to grow. They were asking him to take them somewhere where they could hunt, and the pack could grow. A jolt shot through him. The collar wanted him to get going. To hunt down his prey. He steeled himself to ride through the reminder, and then sighed. *I will take you to a new Place. But first, I must do something. I must find,* he showed them a picture of Quartz, *and free myself from this collar. Then I will show you to a new Place. Is this good?*
The two larger wolves looked at each other, and seemed to sigh. *Yes,* the second voice said, *this good. You Alpha now. You find Quartz, free self. We help. Then you show us New Place.* She seemed resigned. Wolf resolved to determine what was wrong. But first, he had introductions to make.
It was later, as the pack followed Wolf through the woods, that he thought things over. There were six wolves in the pack, all of then enormous, all of them ferocious, and all of them loyal to him. There was CleverSeeker, who liked to wander around, and had the curiosity of a fox. There was ProudFang, the old Alpha, and the largest wolf in the pack, who also had a keen head for the hunt, and knew the tactics of his pack well. There was MoonEye, the female, who was the peacemaker of the pack, and knew all the other wolves well, and kept the peace. There was MooseTracker, A lean wolf with a white star on his muzzle, between his eyes, who was the best tracker. And there was RiverChaser and TreeClimber, who were, in there own words, good wolves. It was a lot to take in.
*So, MoonEye, tell me. Why are you nervous?*
*I not scared. I am a good wolf* she replied, a nervous tremble in her voice.
Wolf thought about it for a second. Then he remembered about the dynamics of wolf packs that he had learned back in school. It seemed like so long ago. *You think that I will make you my mate.*
She hung her head. *You are Alpha. I am a good wolf.*
He shook his head. *You are mated to ProudFang.*
She seemed to get even more morose, if such a thing was possible. *Yes. He is my Lifemate. You are Alpha. I am a good wolf.*
Wolf thought for a moment. *Then I will not take you as a mate.*
MoonEye suddenly stopped, and then after a moment jumped forward and looked at him. *Some thing Wrong me? Me not good Mate?*
Wolf laughed. *I’m sure you are a wonderful mate, MoonEye. But you are ProudFang’s mate, not mine. I will not intrude. You will bear his pups.* He smiled. *I will find my own Lifemate, and she will bear me fine pups one day.*
MoonEye looked like he had just made her the happiest wolf in the forest, and on reflection, that’s probably what he had done. He smiled at her, and reached up to rub her behind the ear. She leaned into it, and made a rumbling noise deep in her chest. He laughed, and asked her *Do you know where the path of the,* he showed her an image of a freight train, *is?*
She cocked her head and thought. *I do not. RiverChaser does.*
He nodded. *Then send him to me, for that is where we go. You go and spend time with ProudFang. Tell him the good news.*
He smiled as she bounded off, and watched as she nuzzled with the big wolf. It seemed so, domestic. He turned as the lean wolf prowled forward, and nodded his head at Wolf.
*The path of Great Metal Snake this way, Alpha.* He turned to look at where Wolf was staring. *You are a good Alpha.*
Wolf smiled at the wolf. *I try.* He nodded. *Let’s go.* He turned to go, and the pack followed him.
Wolf looked down at the tracks, and then looked at the rising sun, and thanked his luck that he had made a habit of thoroughness. He had planed for missing his target, if not this badly, and knew that there would be a freight train coming through here shortly. This particular train was carrying goods from the port in Seattle, off to Chicago for distribution throughout the rest of the country. He could take it all the way through without disturbance, and beat the twins to the city by two days. That would give him time to get the pack hidden, and take up observation of the church. He could see a plan forming, and knew that he would have worked it out by the time he got to Chicago.
He turned to the pack, who were finishing up the remains of the moose that had been foolish enough to wander too close to hungry Dire Wolves. He had already cut himself the tenderloins and a few steaks, and had let the pack have the rest. That would keep him, and the pack, for a few days on the train. CleverSeeker looked up from his meal, and wagged his tail. *We go?*
Wolf smiled. *We go. We will jump on the Great Metal Snake as it goes past, and then you will follow me inside. The Snake is hollow, like an old log, and we will hide inside as it carries us to our destination.* He smiled at the thought and imagery he used. Talking to the wolves was a great deal like talking to a small child. It helped if he used simple concepts and analogies to things they were familiar with. He heard the sound of the train in the distance, and waved for the pack to come.
They all lined up beside him, his head barely reaching their fore shoulder. As the train neared, he tensed, and then, when the engine drew in front of him, he leapt, and beside him, the pack did the same. He landed on top of a car in the middle of the train, and heard heavy thumps behind him as the pack landed. He let out a held breath when he heard the sixth one. They had all made it. He reached down, and unlocked a compartment door. *MoonEye, Proudfang. I think you deserve some privacy.* The two of them took the hint, and scrambled inside. It was a tight fit, but they managed. Moving quickly, Wolf found two more empty compartments, and placed TreeClimber and RiverChaser in one, and he and CleverSeeker took the other.
Once they were inside, and the door was shut, CleverSeeker turned to him, and gave a wolf grin. *That Fun. What next?* The innocent excitement in the young wolf’s ‘voice’ was infectious, and Wolf smiled at the youngest member of his pack.
“Ask me when we get to the city, my friend. It promises to be more fun, though,” he said out loud, and then settled back to rest, while the train sped him forward, towards his goal. He hoped that Crystallis and her sister would figure out what was going on. How ironic. The first time he was sent to hunt, he wound up hunting one of the few people he considered a friend. And it was completely by accident. But the knowledge that there was someone out there who knew who he was, and was trying to help gave him something he had never had before. For the first time since he had been brought to the clinic back in Brooklyn, he fell asleep with a light heart.
He had hope.
Quartz stirred from her restless sleep, waking from images of a torn and bloody Jack, begging her for help as her power tore him apart. She shuddered as she woke, and felt her sister’s arms around her. “Oh, God. What did I do?”
Jet murmured in her ear. “What you had to.”
“I could have helped him.”
“No, you couldn’t. We didn’t have time to figure it out, then.”
“You think he’s still alive?” Quartz was slightly astonished.
“You didn’t fight him. You didn’t see him reattach his arm that way. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Quartz smiled grimly. “You’re right. I didn’t fight him. I just blew him away.”
Jet sat up, and dragged her sister with her. “Yes, you did, damn it. You blew him away! Think about it. You couldn’t have disintegrated him, this isn’t the movies. You probably blew him out into the sound, and he’s probably recovered and swum ashore by now. He’ll be fine. I opened his goddamned throat all the way to the spine, and it just healed back up. Stop worrying.”
Quartz took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. No way he’s dead.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself, but the conviction was there, if shaky. “So, how did he find us, anyways? He drop any hints?”
Jet shrugged. “Not really. I think he had us under surveillance. Remember that news report last week, about the police precinct that had all its surveillance gear stolen? I think he used that to survail us.”
Quartz smiled. “You like that word.”
“Survail, survail survail.” Jet smiled. “You’re right I do. But that’s neither here nor there. If he’s been listening to us in here, then he probably heard that conversation two days ago when we planed our travel arraignments. He likely knows exactly where we’re going.”
“So,” Quartz asked, “the question becomes, do we change our travel arrangements, or not?”
Jet shrugged. “Can we, at this point?”
Quartz frowned. “Well… no, not really. Guess we’re stuck, then. Which is a pain, but I guess we’ll just have to risk it.”
Jet nodded. “Then it’s time to get everything put away. That’s going to be an all day job.”
Quartz shrugged. “Eh, something to do. I’ll pack up the gear. You gonna go do laundry?”
Jet nodded. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way back. We’ve still got one set of Hot Pockets for your lunch. Don’t forget to eat.”
Quartz mimed a blow at her sister. “I won’t, mom, now get gone. I’ll see you tonight.”
Laughing, Jet did just that, taking the duffle bag of clothing with her. After seeing her off, Quartz turned her attention to the rest of the warehouse. “All right,” she said to herself, “time to get to work.”
In a small hotel outside of the city proper, a group of men was sitting around a table in a rented room. They were looking at a surveillance photograph taken from a hidden camera mounted across the street form the twin’s hideout. The photo showed the twins clearly through the half open door, just moments before Jet winked out, and closed the door. The leader nodded, and smiled. “We have confirmation. We’ll move tonight. Use of lethal force has been authorized. We shoot to kill.”
One of the men leaning against the wall grinned. “All right. Let’s bag us some freaks.” The rest of the group chuckled, and began to prep their gear.
Jet returned home, as promised, with clean laundry, and dinner. Two steaming bags of Boston Market. “Hey, sis. I’m back. I got us some bee em, you ready?”
Quartz stuck her head out of the door to the ‘bedroom’ and called back, “Sure, just get the clothes in here so I can pack ‘em, and we’ll be good.”
A few minutes, and a vacuum run later, the clothing was packed away, and the twins were sitting at a small folding table they were leaving behind, eating their dinner. “So,” Quartz remarked, “our last meal in Seattle.”
Jet nodded. “If you don’t count breakfast tomorrow, yup.” She chuckled. “Some birthday this’s been. We’ve found an old friend, who tried to kill us, and now we’re eating take out. Somehow, it just doesn't compare.”
Quartz laughed. “What, you want your full catering, with a staff chef and a maid?”
Jet laughed as well. “Well… It was nice to have all those people around, to help with things.”
Quartz smiled. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’m hoping that once this is all cleared up, we can hire a few of the better members of the staff away from father.”
“It would be nice.”
“So, other then the staff, what’s the one thing you miss most about life before.”
Jet munched on her food. “The one thing I missed most, eh? Huh… Football. Playing with the team, the feeling that I’m exerting myself to the fullest, and striving for victory with my comrades. I miss that.”
Quartz nodded. “For me, it’s the people. It’s knowing that I’m somebody to those around me. I like knowing that there are people out there who are my friends. People I’d risk for. And who’d risk for me.”
Jet nodded. “Well, we’ve got some of that now.”
Quartz frowned. “Well, Lisa sure. But I’m not so sure about Mal and Nora. Both of them have their own agenda, I think.”
Jet just ‘hurm’ed at that, and the tow of them finished their meal in relative silence. When they were done, Jet got up to clean the plates, and Quartz to put the table away. Just as she turned to head towards the ‘bedroom’, Jet froze, and screamed at her sister. “Quartz, MOVE!” Then she slammed her time compression all the way up, and leapt out of the way. She didn’t get out of the way a second too soon.
Jet’s scream warned Quartz, with just enough time to hunch down, and furl her wings around herself. Then the automatic weapons opened up. It came from every direction. There must have been a dozen or two men, in body armor, with military grade weapons, pouring fire into her position. She knelt there and took it, the stinging as countless military caliber rounds slammed into her back and wings. She sat there and endured, and got ready for her counter attack. When the bullets stopped, she was ready, and then she made sure they regretted attacking her.
Jet rolled back into the cover of the doorway, and relaxed her time compression. The withering hail of fire targeted on her sister chopped the table to bits, and blasted into both Quartz and the concrete around her. It kicked up a cloud of dust, and completely obscured the crouching form of her sister. The assault continued for interminable seconds that seemed to stretch out into hours. Then the bullets stopped, and the calls of “I’m out” and “Reloading” came. And then Quartz struck.
She stood, her wings blowing out behind her, clearing the air around her. Her hands were outstretched, and two orbs that glowed like the sun surmounted them. She cried out, a wordless scream of outrage over so feeble an attack, expressing her contempt of those that would think that they could defeat her with such weakness. And then she released her strike. From each globe shot dozens of lances, webbing out into spray of power that stuck at every point within the warehouse above the first story. The lances of power crashed into the walls and ceiling with thunderous noise, and into the mercenaries that had attacked them with cries of pain and surprise.
It was over in that moment. With that one attack, Quartz had disabled the entire force sent against them. Quickly, the twins made sure of their attackers, moving among the bodies on the second floor, and binding and disabling the mercenaries with brutal efficiency. They left the building moments later, each carrying two duffels, the mercenaries piled in a groaning heap on the floor, in the center of a ring of bullet damage.
As they walked out onto the street, they looked at each other, and then Quartz held up the phone she had lifted off of one of the mercenaries while moving the disabled men. She dialed 911.
“Help, Help, I heard gunfire and then a great big BANG from the warehouse…” Jet added some sound effects for good measure, catching her off guard. She glared at her sister and then continued. “Send somebody over, quick. Oh, god I gotta get out of here…” She trailed off, and then dropped the phone, leaving the rather frantic emergency operator calling out from the abandoned phone as the twins walked away.
Once they were out of the range of the mike on the phone, Jet asked, “Why call the cops? A forensic sweep will prove we were there.”
Quartz nodded. “Sure. But it’ll take a few days, and we’ll be long gone by then. I’m more concerned about those jerks recovering and deciding to make a chase out of it.”
Jet shrugged, and unfurled her wings. “Shall we away, then?”
Quartz nodded and did likewise. “May as well.” Silently, and cloaked in illusion, the two of them departed.
Detective Lenny Logan looked at the mess that was the crime scene and sighed. “Why can’t I get the simple ones…” he muttered to himself.
The EMT who walked up to him answered the rhetorical comment with a cheeky, “Because then life would be boring.”
Lenny sighed. “I like boring. So, what was the word on the casualties?”
The EMT shrugged. “No fatalities. Darnedest thing, though. All the bums had a ton of bruises, and some first degree burns. A few second degree, nothing too serious. Most of ‘em had head trauma from being knocked around like a prizefighter’s punching bad, though.”
Lenny sighed. “Great, thanks. None of them decided to explain what happened here?”
The EMT shook his head. “Nope.”
Lenny shook his head dejectedly. “Right, get back out there. Somebody’s gonna have a heart attack, and you won’t be there to save them if I keep you. Scram”
The EMT scrammed. Lenny looked around again, and sighed. When the Crime Scene boys finished their work, the explanation was definitely going to be worth listening to.
Linus Caverhall sat in his dark office, listening to the suddenly timid voice of his spotter in Seattle telling him that the backup acquisition/termination team had been captured. Apparently after being blown up. He politely thanked the man in a voice that showed no emotion or inflection, and hung up the phone.
He stared at the monitors, all of them blinking red with “ERROR” messages, save for one. The GPS locator on the collar still worked, but it showed Wolf on a freight train to Chicago. It was possible that he had learned of the targets next destination and was moving to make a second attempt. That was part of the programming. It was a shame that he could no longer access the more detailed feedback provided by the collar. But still. Wolf had been tracking the target for two weeks. It was likely that he had learned a great deal. If only he could be recalled and debriefed, Linus could plan a foolproof acquisition. He steepled his fingers, and began the tedious process of going over the footage of the battle with the targets one more time.
He was at the point where the white target had used a moderately sized tree trunk as a bat to swat Wolf, when his phone rang. There were very few people who had this number. Cautiously, he answered the phone. When he heard who it was, he paled even further, if such a thing was possible.
“Hello, Sir. How are you this evening?”
“No, Sir, unfortunately, they proved far more powerful then expected. They evaded capture, and eliminated the assets sent against them.”
“No, Sir, that won’t be necessary, I’m reviewing the footage now. I’ll have a new tactic tailored to them in a few days. I’m confident of my eventual success.”
“Of course, Senator. These things won’t have the chance to ruin your image. I’ll take care of it.”
“Good bye, Mike”
The well dressed young woman in the personally tailored silk suit and the white leather coat walked up to the ticket counter, and nodded imperiously at the attendant. She demanded her tickets, for her and her silent companion, and presented her identification to satisfy the clerk. She briskly walked over to the departure area, and moving through the crowd, entered the area marked ‘charter’. Once inside, she presented her ticket information again, and then had her companion present the four large duffel bags to the guards for inspection. Finding that all four contained a large amount of loosely packed clothing, the guards waved the two past, and they got on their chartered car.
Once inside the air conditioned and private area, Jet dropped her illusions, and the two of them sagged heavily into the plush armchair available. “Thank God that’s done,” Jet moaned.
Quartz shrugged. “I expect we’ll have a few more intrusions by well meaning conductors and such.”
Jet sighed. “Crap. Ah well. At least we’re on our way.”
Quartz nodded. “Yup. Chicago, here we come.”
Jet stared at the end of the car, her eyes seeming to bore through it, “We’re coming, Mom, Sarah.” Quartz just nodded in agreement as the car began to move
They were on their way.