A Whateley Academy Story

Call the Thunder

By Joe Gunnarson and the Whateley Crew

Chapter 1:  Let’s Play a Game

Sunday, December 10th, 2006

Reverend Darren Englund entered the main control room of Arena 77 with trepidation.  Not since a couple nights after Halloween had he talked to, or attempted to make peace with the Whateley Gun Range Crew and the Group Crisis Simulation Team.  That instance had been a disaster and a half.  The result had been a near-miss with the Heavy Weapons Range Instructor, Erik Mahren, and only the timely intervention of Gunny Bardue and Staff Sergeant Wilson had interrupted a sudden, unexpected rendezvous with a magazine full of .45 caliber bullets that probably would have ripped him open, toughened body or not.  He had been torn between rage at the outburst, and guilt.  The attack on the demon had brought unintended consequences in the death of one of the Range instructors, Mahren’s fiancée.

Carson had not been pleased.

It was a bit of nervousness that he brought with him that was the bleeding edge between paranoia and self-preservation.  Gunny Bardue wanted to talk to him, something he’d refused to do since Cat McQuiston died and Mahren went self-destructive in the personality.  Now Mahren was gone and no one would tell him what had happened to the range safety lunatic of Whateley Academy.  Every night he imagined the cold burning rage he’d seen in the man’s eyes, and almost imagined a set of crosshairs caressing his image whenever he found himself alone in the quiet since the semi maniacal range instructor’s disappearance.  It was not a pleasant feeling to say the least.  Sobering was a better word, and when he’d cooled from the rush of righteous outrage at the demon’s impertinence he’d realized that his actions had made him a very cold-blooded enemy.

Carson had not been sympathetic, to say the least.

Now Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue had called him to Arena 77 to discuss the disposition of said range hand, whom he had been forbidden on pain of immediate termination to approach and vice-versa.  This was what brought him to the Arena to talk to the “ boss” of the range crews.  Or he was when Smythe wasn’t feeling the need to assert his official and unofficial authority amongst the gun monkeys.  He bitterly reflected on the fact that the range crews had been some of his most staunch supporters, and on more than one occasion backup, whenever the threats of monsters, demons and things best left buried in the history of Dunwich cropped up.  Now he couldn’t even get the lot of them to give him more than a dirty look or a dismissive snort.

The sixty-four year old black man named Oscar Bardue was settled into a chair at the control console for the Arena holographic emitters and ANTS bots when Englund walked in behind him.  The old Marine glanced over his shoulder and nodded to Englund neutrally and gestured to the chair next to him.  Bardue was simply plugging away at the computer program, setting in the variables for the upcoming exercise.  Englund waited patiently as the fit old man in the golf shirt and khaki slacks finished what he was doing.

“Reverend.”  Bardue said by way of greeting.

“Good evening Gunny,” Englund replied cautiously, “To what do I owe the meeting?”

“Bear with me for a minute while I get my daughter set up for her run.” Bardue turned and looked over the Arena area.  “All right Caitlin, prep time’s up.  The mission’s your standard shoot 'n scoot.  Could be norms, could be mutants, could be Dragonslayers.  Watch your ass and play it by the numbers.  You have been targeted for attack and the objective is survival by any means necessary.  This is a timed exercise to end when you are either terminated by enemy forces or the timer runs out, indicating an opening you can use to escape.”

Englund spoke when Bardue began powering up; looking over the holographic battleground seeking the person Bardue had been speaking to with the Arena P.A. system.  There wasn’t anyone visible in the odd collection of trees, scattered wooden and concrete buildings and rocks.  The ANTS robots powered up and immediately their holographic emitters kicked in, causing the skeletal robots to be sheathed in the image of an infantryman in full combat garb.  Each one carried weapons, some light, and some heavy.  “I wasn’t aware you had a daughter, Gunny.”

“God-Daughter actually.  She’s in my custody after her Parents had some unfortunate occurrences.”

“Mutant child?”

“She’s about as mutant as they come.”  Gunny punched in the codes and began to get the seeming soldiers moving in patrol formations.  Englund knew from experience that the ones visible were just the beginning.  More ANTS waited in the wings for deployment, and the fallen ones would retask for new missions if the combatants moved out of view.

“So why meet like this?  I know you’re busy.”  Englund was actuially curious.

“About eight or nine years go a young-blooded Lance Corporal wrote a tactical essay on the use of mutants in the military and the difficulties in combating them.  That paper was classified Eyes-Only for four years before it was released to the general public.  I’m sure you are familiar with it.  ’mutant Shock and the Modern Infantryman' I believe it was called.”

Englund nodded.  “I remember.  It was very tongue-in-cheek, but very informative.  I remember the Author’s name was given only as Jeckel.  It detailed the use of mutants, and the means of combating them by baseline forces.  I remember it because it took some of the more wild theories such as super-soldier programs and special military equipment like hand lasers and odd items like that and pitched them out the window.  Mostly due to cost evaluation and poor resource use.”

Bardue nodded.  “One of the core, underlying precepts of the paper though was the advent of ‘Mutant Shock.’  Rather akin to Tank Shock because to baseline troops at large, Mutants are terrifying.  Able to shrug off withering gunfire, some capable of burning tanks to slag, or tear them apart with bare hands.  Others are capable of blasting every neuron in all the brains of an entire platoon at a time, or twisting their minds to the mutant’s whim.  This is something we can’t teach the kids here.  We can’t teach them to fear because in their minds, they are to be feared on the battlefield, and by and large they are correct.”

“I know, I’ve read it, and I’ve seen first-hand what can come of baselines finding themselves at the mercy of one of us.  It’s the primary reason why the MCO continues to exist and be a thorn in all of our lives.” Englund was thoughtful, wondering where this conversation was going.  He also noticed that the ANTS patrols were doing their thing, and there was no sign of the mutant girl that Bardue claimed as his adoptive daughter.

“About a month and a half ago the kids got a taste of how bad things might get.  No I’m not here to lecture you, nor point fingers.  There’s been enough of that going around to last the next century.”  Bardue watched the arena closely while he spoke.  Englund breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.  Bardue hadn’t called him to offer ultimatums.

The arena erupted into chaos all at once, and Englund almost missed it.  Four patrolling soldiers were torn apart by an explosion that erupted in the middle of their patrol route.  A split-second later he saw the girl in street clothing burning with eldritch flame as she moved burst into and tear the ten-man formation to shreds before darting back into the cover of the brush, which seemed to be alternately burning, freezing or warping everything it touched, like reality was coming uncorked around her.  Englund took a second to process the series of strikes and knife-slashes from an odd obsidian blade the girl was carrying.  He couldn’t make out details, but she was tall, athletic and well-developed, and her hair was long, black and reflective.  He idly looked to check the difficulty setting, an eight of ten.  Most of the students and all but one or two of the staff would have been hard-pressed against ten opponents at the level eight setting.

“Impressive.” Englund breathed.

“This ain’t shit.  But back to the original comments while I cut loose the next batch of ANTS.  A month ago, one of the unknown co-authors of that very tongue-in-cheek paper went missing here at Whateley Academy.  You and I knew him.  Erik Mahren never was the most stable sonofabitch in the world I will admit, but he got hit hard Halloween.  No one, not him, not you, and not even God, very likely could have predicted that sniper.  One shot to kill his fiancée, probably one of the most powerful manifestors and avatars I have ever seen, and he lost it.  He lost it to the point where Carson had to hold him down to keep him from continuing a suicidal rampage, and he only got worse.”

Englund didn’t respond, letting Bardue talk, watching as the new girl exploded from yet another batch of cover to engage another two of squads of ANTS in a running firefight that wound up with six of them down.  The girl was wielding a four-foot-long belt-fed gun for this one, letting rip and emptying the belt and running like a bat out of hell as the ANTS gave chase, trying to shoot the girl who zigged and zagged from cover to cover like an old pro.  She ran them straight into a building and went inside and shimmied up to the roof while the ANTS did a full tactical breach of the building, pouring inside.  Once they were almost all in she started stomping on something on the rooftop, and the rooms began exploding as claymore mines sent ball bearing caroming off everything within.  The girl was vicious, brutal, and she was leading the ANTS around by their noses.

“From there you know some things, you don’t know others.  You know me and Wilson stopped him from gunning your ass down from behind when you came to the range to talk.  You know Carson’s reaction to the whole thing was to tell you both you’d be terminated immediately if either approaches the other.  What you probably don’t know is just how bad Mahren was getting when I finally kicked him to powers testing to see if we couldn’t rekindle a fire under his ass.”

“How bad did he actually get?” Englund was curious, as none of the range crew ever let it show when someone managed to get to them.  Thus far Mahren was the exception.

“He doesn’t think I know about the drinking, or the nightmares, not all of which were born of Halloween.  Mahren was riding the short bus to a complete breakdown, and of all the range crew, he’s the youngest, most decorated, and quite bluntly the most combat-experienced in the ways that count.  Not a goddamned one of us want to see what he’s capable of pulling if he completely loses his cool.  I know what you’re thinking, Wilson’s a Mutant, and he’s more than capable of keeping Mahren under control.  Not a chance.  Wilson goes buggy trying to puzzle out what’s running through that man’s mind.  He is dangerous, unpredictable, and has a lot of nasty favors and strings he can pull to make someone miserable.”

“So what can I do about this?  The man disappeared, Gunny, and I’ve been wondering if I’m being lined up for a sniper shot.”

“No.  I can tell you you’re not.  Jesus, that girl’s evil.”

“I missed it.  What happened?”

“She took out the last of the standard opponents.  Hit the menu and run the Dragonslayer simulation.  Let’s kick the girl up a notch.”

Englund looked at Bardue a bit mystified.  The Dragonslayers had been the bogeyman of the mutant community the world over for a span of about three years running.  The rumors were rampant about who exactly the psychos were that were rumored to have tracked, attacked and killed somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen powerful mutants using military weapons and tactics between 1997 and 2000, and that was just the list for which there was some evidence of their activity.  Rumors from soldiers and a bootleg military video that circulated illegally gave life to the myth of the super-soldiers, or the MCO hit squad, or the Humans First! extermination team, or Army or Marine team tasked to murder mutants depending on which rumor being heard at the time.  In the intervening six years, the stories and rumors died somewhat, but occasionally a spectacular military-style killing of a mutant would occur to re-ignite speculation and rumor all over again.  Needless to say the Whateley Dragonslayer simulation was one of the most brutal and grueling simulation anyone could get stuck with solo.

“Just do it.” Bardue’s tone brooked no argument.  “Unless I miss my guess she can handle it.”

“Where’s the Menu for this one again?  It’s been almost two years since I’ve touched it.”

Bardue looked over at the console.  “Red-threat scenarios, next to that folder marked ‘Scorched Earth.’”

Englund nodded and threw the simulation program in, to see seven ANTS dart out of the chute away from where the girl was holed up and hiding.

“I’m not telling you all of this to make you afraid that Mahren’s some kind of all-powerful bogeyman coming for your blood, Reverend.  Far from it.  He’s not the bogeyman, but he is dangerous as hell if we let him loose simply because he is unpredictable.  He proved that Halloween Night and on several occasions backing up security, or you on one of your monster hunts.  When I tell you that I don’t know what Mahren has done since he left my command in the corps, and the only thing I’m for sure on is he’s done some work for M-SOC, or Mutant Special Operations Command in the Corps, it’s to enlighten you as to the next part of our dilemma, and how you are going to help me solve it.”

“I’m listening.”  Bardue had Englund’s undivided attention.

“When I sent Erik to powers testing he turned up as a mutant, but the markers were all wrong.  Heavy metals in the blood, including raw cobalt, which is toxic as shit I might add.  Not a single genetic marker matching any mutant trait, no psychic talent except a knack for picking all the wrong answers in the card test.  All in all he should have been dead if his blood work is any indication.  Now he destroyed a powerful magic item that got the magic monkeys into a tizzy, but it’s the side bits that on later analysis that are telling.  Mahren apparently has some kind of spirit clinging to him that’s been feeding him... something.  His knack for odd gear’s too omnidirectional to be natural.  He wasn’t told about the spirit, which seems to have dug in like a tick on a vein, and Mahren’s got no signs of any avatar traits whatsoever.”

“You’re talking about a possession.” Englund looked thoughtful again.

“Yes and no.  It turned Mahren into a mana sink according to the docs and the mages, and kept him alive to reach critical mass.  Which he did reach, I must add.  Erik Mahren literally exploded into a mystic fireball out on the hazard powers testing area.  He survived, but his body was reforged into something else.  He’s a mystic lightning rod, which brings me to Caitlin down there.”

Englund turned abruptly to see the girl get swarmed by four of the Ants, ducking and diving to get out of their line of fire, like she knew what was coming.  The ANTS ran one-by-one and two-by-two in a confusing non-pattern that from outside was obviously a distraction while three others sporting heavy weapons slipped into position.  Against most mutants the tactic would be confusing, overwhelming and in a word, devastating as it would set the mutant up for a shot by the rocket and machinegun-wielding heavy ANTS.  She turned the tables by grabbing an ANT that got too close and tearing it’s weapon and arm away from it’s body, lining up and firing directly into the heavy ANTS.  The launcher grenade killed two of them and she used the rifle to kill the other five on the run.

“That’s...  She knew.  She knew what they were doing.” Englund was amazed, as he’d seen a few mutant kids and one or two staff defeat this simulation, but they’d always done it by overpowering force and stealth.  Caitlin had done it through foreknowledge and skill.  “ That’s Mahren.  That’s not a little girl, that’s where Mahren’s been hiding.”

Bardue turned to him and nodded as he released more standard ANTS.  “ And now you know.  She goes by Caitlin Bardue now, and she’s got a slew of problems to go with the new package, the least of which is the change in balance and center of gravity that have been driving her insane.  Normally she’d be dropped in one of the cottages, but the cottage is getting crowded and she’s dangerously uncontrolled.”

“Why in the cottages?  Why’s she still here?”

“Fair question.  That spirit, that parasite thing that changed her is still with her, and insinuated to the point where separating them would probably kill her.  She still doesn’t know about it, and I know what her reaction would be to it.  I’d rather not have her die.  But what it’s done is turn her into a mystic super-slave, ripe for the picking by any mage, demon or weird fucking critter that can recognize her particular ’mutation.'  She’s here because if we leave her in the cold we may as well be cutting her throat ourselves.  Whateley does not abandon its own, no matter how deserving.”

“You want me to protect her?”

“No.  That task falls to other hands.  What I want you to do, Englund is to stay the hell away from her.  Don’t talk to her, don’t approach her.  She’s got a lot on her mind and I’m going to do my level fucking best to drown her in problem after problem, dilemma after dilemma, task after task.  She thrives under adversity, but I want her occupied.  I don’t want her dwelling on Halloween, or who may or may not have caused it.  So as far as you are concerned, she does not exist.  As far as she is concerned, you do not exist as much as myself, the range crews and Carson can manage.  So this means she will be ground into the dirt as hard as any student, she will get no special dispensations.  Combat finals starts tomorrow, and most children with life-altering circumstances or trauma are excused.  She won’t be.”

“That will be hard on her, especially with everything.” Englund gave Bardue a pleading look.  “ I don’t want to cause her any more grief.  If I see anyone targeting her about this... slave...” Englund spit out the word with extreme distaste, “ thing I will pass word to yourself or Carson.  Like you said.  Whateley protects it’s own.”

“And the rest?”

“I’ll stay clear of her.  I won’t put my nose into her business.”

Bardue smiled for the first time since Englund arrived.  “ Thank you Reverend.  I appreciate that.  It’ll let me concentrate on keeping her attention locked to where it needs to be and not on you.  If we get a hint that she starts getting a wild hair in your direction, you will be the first to know.  Make no mistake.  You cost me two of my crew, but I’ve had about as much blood spilled on this school’s grounds as I can stomach.  So you can relax, the specter of a mad marine with a gun has passed, but stay sharp.  Even Fubar can’t say for sure what she’ll do next.”

“She’s about done.  I think I’ll get out of here.  I can’t make what happened to her right, but I can try not to make it worse.” Englund turned and left.

“You better motherfucker,” Bardue said to an empty room, “ I’m going to far too much trouble to protect your ass, even if we do need you around.”

Monday, December 11th, 2006

“All right, ladies and gentlemen, I suppose you are all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.” Staff Sergeant Ryan Wilson snickered as the combat instructors came to order, less one or two bodies that were known to have screwed with the results of an official, graded match in combat finals before.  The tall exemplar, Ex-Army Ranger was hardly the picture of Military precision in a shredded old workout T-Shirt and blue jeans that had seen better days.

“Shut yer hole and sit doun Wilson, 'ye pesky bugger,” Sergeant-Major Sean Burlington-Smythe of the British SAS (retired) said from his seat around the table.

“You got it Sergeant-Major.” Wilson sat down at the table and grinned at the other combat instructors, some of whom rolled their eyes at him, others chuckled.

Lillian Dennon, the aging brick instructor smirked at Wilson.  “ We’re here because like every year we wait until the last possible moment to get together and discuss the Combat Finals and figure out who we’re dropping into the Crash.”

“Quite so,” interjected Ito, the short Japanese man who was in charge of organizing the Combat Finals this year.  “ While I would prefer that we have the Crash mapped out long before we start the festivities I recognize that none of us have particularly much time at the end of semester and assigning the Crash at the beginning would be pointless.  Never mind the necessity of balancing out certain...  problematic students for whom random opponent assignments would place themselves or their opponents in unnecessary danger.”

“So which of the Grunts and Capes are we looking at throwing to the lions this year?” Chester Fitzgibbon, the local Shao-Lin Dragon style Kung Fu instructor asked.  It was a fair question, showing the preference for the Crash contestants as being relatively solid.

“We aren’t.” Gunny Bardue stood up.  “ Time for a shakeup folks.  We’ve been lazy for the last few years and have been tapping the same two teams for the crisis matches in the Crash.  So now we’ve been stuck with a situation where only the Grunts and the Capes are preparing properly for the kind of havoc and confusion that goes with the Crash runs.  Normally we’d have Erik and Cat here to go over the info with us since I’ve been having Erik program the scenarios and Cat’s a good one to hit for information on the kids, but due to circumstances neither can be here.”

Most of the instructors traded dark looks at the mention of the losses of the two instructors.  Cat McQuiston, also known as Backdraft had been a Lieutenant with LAPD before she joined Whateley Academy.  She had been murdered by a sniper during the abortive Syndicate assault on the school.  Erik Mahren’s disappearance and circumstances were a tightly held secret between the combat instructors and certain specific parties in the magic department and the administration.  Not all of them were aware of the circumstances of Poe Cottage’s odd arrangements, but all of the instructors at the table were aware of Erik’s massive shift in status.  None outside this circle, or Carson, Delarose, Hartford, Circe and Earth Mother were fully aware of that particular situation, and they intended to keep it that way.

“Since Erik and Cat can’t be here Wilson is Erik’s designated replacement and Smythe’s here because he can’t delegate his responsibility anymore.” Bardue continued on.  “ Ito-Sama I’d like to return the floor to you so we can get the teams that are going to be hit hashed out, and who the matchups will be.”

Ito nodded to Bardue and looked to the assembled instructors.  “ Since everyone is expecting the Grunts and the Capes to be a part of the difficult scenarios I propose we pick two of the freshman teams and tap their members for the demonstrations.”

A knock at the door sounded, prompting Harry Junzo, the advanced Aikido instructor and Telepath/Empath teacher to stand, walk to the door and open it.  He smiled and bowed with genuine courtesy as Susannah Hagarty entered the room.

Amanda Tolman, Ito’s assistant instructor grinned.  “ Welcome to the meeting Ms. Hagarty!  I’m sure you know the usual suspects.  Added to that we have Sergeant-Major Sean Burlington-Smythe, formerly of the Royal SAS...” She pointed to the fiery-haired Scotsman, “ and Staff Sergeant Ryan Wilson, formerly of the US Army Rangers.  Both of them form the rest of our combat range crew and the sponsors of the Grunts team.”

“Pleased to meet you gentlemen.” Hagarty nodded and sat down in an empty seat between Junzo and Genevieve Beaumont, the petite Karate and Kempo instructor.

“Good.  Now that we are all here, I believe explanations are in order.  If you would explain to Ms. Hagarty about the Crash Scenarios, Staff Sergeant?” Ito cracked an evil little smirk as he put the Range Crew’s self-appointed slacker on the spot.

“You are an evil, evil old man, Ito,” Wilson grumbled as he stood.

“Yes, however, you volunteered to join these proceedings after avoiding them like the plague for eight years.  So take your medicine like a good boy.”

“Evil old man.” Wilson looked at Hagarty and dropped the pretense of the slacker bum he let on for public consumption and straightened, unconsciously shifting to parade rest as he spoke, hands locked behind him at his waist.  “All right.  I’m a bit new to this as Ito said.  Normally me compadre, Corporal Mahren would be playing the show here.  But he’s out, so I got nominated.”

Hagarty nodded and watched as the tall exemplar continued.

“The Crash, by my limited understanding, is a series of events snaked into the combat finals in order to prove a point, or teach a lesson.  The most common lesson being 'you are not invulnerable' the second most common being the need to improvise in any situation.  We deliberately pick out two or three teams each year for the Crash and hand select the ones who we are really testing and their opponents.  Normally we’d be tapping the Grunts and the Capes, or our Military aspirants and the future hero crowd in case you weren’t already aware, but this year we’re looking for a shakeup.” The professional demeanor dropped for an instant as he smirked.  “ Our esteemed leaders have been making us wait with baited breath to see who our victims will be this year.”

Hagarty nodded.  “ So we are looking at a high-threat and difficulty level in these proceedings.”

“Correct.” Ito nodded and motioned Wilson to take a seat, flashing a look of mock-annoyance as the Ranger lounged back in his chair, beach-bum demeanor fully reassumed.  “ In fact I called you here because after much deliberation between myself, Gunny Bardue, Mrs. Dennon and Mr. Junzo, one of the two teams will be the infamous Team Kimba, including your student, Nikki Reilly, or Fey as the codename goes.”

Hagarty nodded as Ito addressed Bardue.  “ And have you determined which of the heavy simulator teams might fit our needs?”

The old black man smirked and nodded.  “ The team I’m looking at, with your approval is Outcast Corner, or the Outcasts for short.  Their lineup is Jericho, a Devisor/Gadgeteer with no other real powers of note and a knack for mayhem.  As a side note, he’s blind.  The second is Diamondback, a heavy GSD kid from Whitman.  Exemplar, basic magey type, real low key, and from the reports very shy and very fast reflexes.” He continued as Ito nodded.  “ Last on the official team roster is Razorback who is also severely GSD, our former star Ultraviolent Speedster who used to be our resident King of Detention.  The three have been running the Active track on the Sims for a bit over a month now, and they’ve got a knack for unconventional tactics as well as a driving need to thumb their noses at the established social order.”

Ito nodded.  “ I see no reason not to include them.  This is the group that has adopted Caitlin Bardue then?”

“That’s the one.  I have her listed as a tentative auxiliary for the Outcasts pending her choices in the future.  I’m also going to drop her into the Crash.  Got to come up with her opponents for the scenario.”

Fitzgibbon looked up.  “ Why don’t we begin with Team Kimba?  Who is their team leader?”

“If anyone can figure that out for sure I would be most grateful for the information.” Ito nodded.  “ However, Hank Declan, or Lancer seems to be their tactics man.”

“Ok, let’s start with him then.” Beaumont punched up a file on her computer.  “Hank Declan, one of the Poe kids, obviously.  We have discussed him before.  Basic superman package, intelligent and has a good head on his shoulders.  He’s also making some innovative leaps in the use of the TK field he has according to the notes someone added to the file.”

Lillian Dennon spoke up.  “ Those would be my notes actually.  I’ve been following the boy’s progress for some time and he shows promise.  He would certainly be a fine example in the upcoming exercise, although I would recommend using him as part of the challenge rather than be the one tested.”

Ito nodded.  “ I concur.  Let us leave Lancer aside for now and move on.  Next would be Toni Chandler, or Chaka.  She is one of the core members of Team Kimba, and we have already discussed how she is problematic to teach.”

Wilson raised his hand.  “ Problematic?  How’s that?”

Gunny Bardue answered.  “ Chaka’s some kind of martial arts wizard, manipulates energy so she can pull some straight anime style stunts.  Finding sparring partners who can whup her is a bitch and a half.”

Wilson nodded and flipped through some pages on a clipboard, then took out a pen and wrote something down.  He stood and walked over to Ito and handed him the clipboard.  “ Disaster Zone scenario anyone?  With an added twist.  She likes anime, then let’s give her something anime to play with.”

Ito looked at the clipboard and began to nod approvingly.  “ And here we were thinking you would not have much to contribute.  You seem to have a knack for sadistic scenarios.”

“Hey, what can I say?  It’s me.  The names for the other combatants in that run are on the back page.” Wilson sat back down.

“Very good, this is most acceptable.”

“So which other 'o these kids will we be tossin' tae the lions?”

“For Tennyo we have no choice.” Ito pushed a button on a remote control beside him and a picture of Tennyo appeared on a wall screen.  “ Her powers are at such a level that we cannot safely throw her in a match with another student and hope they survive.”

There were a string of nods around the table and Kasai Tetsuko, the kempo teacher spoke.  “ Perhaps she should take part in our final scenario.  The Mob assault.”

“That was my thought.  Carson’s also, and she’s said we are to place Tennyo in the Mob assault scenario.” Ito turned to the other teachers.  “ Any objection to this?”

No voices were raised, no objections uttered.

“Now, Jade, Ayla and shroud of Team Kimba are either odd enough, or not powerful enough that I could be justified in throwing them into a crash scenario.  Jade is, on her own, more clever than she lets on and is a constant source of low-grade mayhem.  Shroud is odd enough that none of the crash scenarios would significantly threaten her, as she is, according to sources, already dead.” Ito let a slight smirk as he talked.  It was matched by most of the instructors; Wilson was oddly enough one of them.

“What you smirking at Wilson?” Bardue groused.

“Jade.  I have been coaching that little girl on her pistolwork for a little while now.  Wasn’t expecting her to shoot Little Princess Walcutt, but I can’t fault her aim.”

“Indeed.” Ito turned.  “ And I hesitate to give Ayla, or Phase as she is called the added attention of a particularly challenging scenario as it may bring even more attention to her than we have already seen.  This leaves Fey and Bladedancer, whom I have lumped into the Kimbas due to the fact she spends so much time among them.”

“What about that Sara girl?” Mrs. Dennon asked.  “ The one Englund has such a fit over all the time.  Isn’t she a Kimba?”

“Nope.  I have the team rosters right here...” Bardue flipped through a stack of papers.  “ ...and Miss Waite is listed in a separate team, one of the usual hodgepodges, but I’ve been tapping her for some side work keeping the Grunts and other power teams on their toes.”

Ito smirked.  “ We will have to deal with the question of Miss Waite in a moment anyway.”

Fitzgibbon looked annoyed.  “ Bladedancer shouldn’t be in the crash.  She’s not even a mutant and the only reason she’s here is that bloody sword.”

The other instructors rolled their collective eyes and nodded.  Fitzgibbon was a good teacher but he still hadn’t forgiven or forgotten his pasting at the hands of Guan-Yu.

“On the contrary, sir.” Ito smiled wickedly.  “ That is precisely why we will use her in the Crash.  Most mutant children are so secure in their own superiority they don’t take into account an exceptional baseline factor.  I believe Chou Lee will enlighten them otherwise.”

“So who’ll be the cocky bugger we throw 'er at Ito?” Smythe looked curious.

“You have summed up the criteria aptly if ineloquently.” Smythe just grinned at the little Japanese man in response.

“Right then, les' see if we can round us up a wee bugger for the fall.  Who do we hae on the 'needs tae be taken down a peg' list?”

Wilson looked up.  “ One candidate would be a kid named Bardue, Oscar C.  Apparently the guy couldn’t find his ass with both...”

“Shut up Wilson before I take your skinny Exemplar ass out back behind the woodshed.” The old black man shook his head at the other range instructor.

“Yes Grandpa.” Wilson’s voice had a ’subdued and contrite redneck' inflection to it.

“Nex.”

Everyone turned to Tolman.  “ Hey, don’t look at me like that!  But my gut tells me Nex.”

“I’m sorry, but isn’t Nex a junior?  The one who allegedly attacked Fey by ambush?” Hagarty looked concerned.

Ito smiled.  “ That’s the beauty of the Crash.  Anything goes.  Besides, I don’t think there’s a person in this room who wouldn’t mind watching Nex get pounded into the ground by one of the mere baselines he holds in so much contempt.”

“Think she can do it, hoss?” Wilson leaned forward, suddenly serious.  “ Nex gets a wild hair and that girl could be spending the rest of her life in a wheelchair.  Even though we can’t prove it me'n Mahren figured he’s been responsible for over fifteen crippling attacks on baseline humans, and two near-misses against baseline teachers.  The hits fit his M.O. but we haven’t been able to find evidence on the little prick.”

“Why do you think the attacks fit his M.O.?” Hagarty asked.

“We think he’s the little shit that knifed Mahren just shy and high of a kidney about two years ago.  No blade, or really measurable blade type, ergo psiknife or a TK knifehand.  Whoever it was tried to steal one of the Aegis loaders that Mahren had just packed away in the high-security area.  He couldn’t break the system and he almost got his ass shot off by Erik.  Nex was REAL careful not to let anyone see bare skin on his left leg for a while.”

Ito nodded.  “ Suspicions aside, myself and I imagine Mrs. Wong would imagine the girl capable of defeating Nex if she’s been paying attention to her training.”

“This brings us to Fey.” Hagarty smiled.  “ I expect anyone expecting the pretty princess to be helpless will be in for a rather rude shock.  Over the past couple months she has shown vast improvements to her ability to handle her own in hand-to-hand.  While I’d not match her against an exemplar just yet in hand-to-hand she shows promise.”

“And her magic abilities?” Ito looked at her expectantly.

“Now I wish you had asked Wallace to come, but give me a moment.” Hagarty leaned back in her chair and considered how to answer.  “ I believe I will have to go with the words of a young man not too many days ago.  'If she’s not careful she’ll wind up blowing a hole in the world.'  I’m sorry, but my evaluation is better for martial arts.  Magics are really not where I am knowledgeable.”

“Your instincts?” Ito pressed.

“Based on what I’ve seen her do I’d say she’s fully capable of vaporizing a tank or making a skyscraper explode, all at once or level-by-level.”

Wilson let out a low whistle.  “ Now THAT’s a dilemma.  Mages start getting really foul to deal with at the WIZ-four-mark.  I’m assuming she’s higher?”

“From what I understand, yes, easily.”

The instructors started talking and Wilson held a hand up.  “ Hang on folks.  I might have something here.  Cat McQuiston said something about nukes and cockroaches...  You can kill anything with a nuke except a cockroach.  The only sure way to kill one is to stomp on it.”

“How does that help?” Ms. Beaumont asked.

Smythe was the first to catch on, and he started chuckling evilly.  “ Mule.  Good thinkin' laddie.”

Ito looked at Wilson, mildly confused.  “ Are we missing something here?  Mule is an exceptional student but I hardly think a TK brick is the answer.”

Wilson grinned.  “ No, you’re not missing, it was figured out just after we got the kid into the Grunts.  We all know about the little fact that his TK field is far more heavy-handed defensively than it is offensively even for a TK brick, but what’s not obvious is interlaced with the PK is heavy-ass psychic and mystic shielding.  Or it’s the same thing if you listen to Fubar talk.  He’s a damned cockroach, can’t just nuke him.  You have to step on him.”

“How effective are those shields Wilson?” Tolman gave him with a strange look.

“Not as effective as Jimmy Trauger’s Psychic null.  Trying to break Mule’s shields only gives the almighty Fuub a slightly less intense migraine than trying to read JT’s brain.”

“In other words,” Bardue smirked, “ if we throw him in with Fey she’s going to need to find a rather large boot to stomp him with.”

“Very well.  Your cockroach scenario will be used.” Ito looked up.  “ I suggest we take fifteen minutes for a slight break before discussing what to do with the Outcasts.”

There wasn’t much conversation as the instructors stood up to stretch, get some air or use the bathroom.  It only took a few minutes for everyone to filter back to the room, and the whole ordeal was getting time-critical.  Breakfast would be served in two scant hours, and then Ito would have to join Carson for the proceedings.

“All right, before we move on we should probably address Sara Waite since someone brought her up.” Tolman looked up as she continued.  “ She’s one of our local problem children and I doubt we want to give her a whole lot of time and attention in the arena.  Too many folks gunning for her.”

“We could always throw her and Caitlin at each other.  I’d be curious to see who kicks who’s ass.” Wilson’s comment was idle and offhand and he wasn’t expecting Bardue’s response.

“Absolutely not!”  The old Marine snapped off rapidly.  “ We will not be deliberately tossing Caitlin into any situations where she has to play confrontations with mages, avatars of old gods or Class-X entities until after she’s gotten her powers and her confidence under control.  Is that clear?”

It was abrupt, it was unexpected by anyone, and it got the point across in no uncertain terms.  All of the instructors were intelligent enough to hear the sharp note of fear that went into his voice when he’d cut Wilson off, which meant there was more to that little story than he intended to tell.

“Well, since we be talkin' boot tae Outcasts anyway, why no' throw Jericho at Sara?” Sergeant-Major Smythe suggested mildly.  “ I don’t think the demon-girl would have problems beatin' our wee blind laddie.”

Ito nodded.  “ While Jericho shows promise I don’t believe he could do much to prolong a match with Miss Waite.”

Wilson and Bardue, as well as Kasai all sat there like beached fish with their jaws gaping and trying to comprehend what was just said.  Finally it was Wilson who engaged his brain and mouth at the same time.  He even got the words right too.

“I think that would be a flawed premise for putting any of the Outcasts into a fight Ito, sir.” Wilson looked at Bardue, who nodded.  “ I gotta say, I respect your opinion, totally, but I’ve seen the Outcasts in all-out rumbles as a team and as individuals and you won’t find an easy fight in any one of them, including Jericho.”

“Go on.” Ito gave Wilson a patient look.

“Look Jericho alone doesn’t look or seem like much, and more often than not he gets pasted by his opponents, but when was the last time anyone got a quick takedown on him?  He digs in like a tick and doesn’t let go.  Even the Grunts and the Capes have a hard time with him.  He’s underdeveloped, sure, he’s blind.  Ok, but he’s also canny, intelligent and stubborn as an ox.  I’ve seen him stalemate guys like Breaker or who are on the same level mystically as Hekate for orders of minutes, using nothing but minor Devisor stunts that everyone’s seen, most of them Johnny-one-shots and he’s always got a new stunt to pull.”

Kasai nodded.  “ I concur.  Jericho may be limited physically, but he has more tricks than a Swiss army knife and the will to use them.”

Wilson nodded.  “ Now don’t get me wrong, given what I’ve seen I don’t think he’ll win, but I think he’ll be able to drag it out so that your idea of denying Sara the spotlight gets flushed.”

Ito nodded.  “ Your point is clear and taken, however I think Jericho will be the one to place against Miss Waite in the Combat Finals.”

“I got fifteen minutes duration on this one,” Wilson said as he held up a fifty, “ any takers?”

“I believe you are correct but unduly optimistic,” Kasai replied.  “Thirteen minutes.”

“You’re on.”

Ito moved on smoothly, ignoring Wilson’s betting and bluster as simply as he had ignored Mahren’s before him.  “ Next on the Outcast blotter is Jericho’s confirmed partner in crime, Razorback.  This is not a crash test in the traditional sense.  This is simply to determine who to throw him at that will survive the encounter if Razorback rages, which is worthy of a Crash in and of itself.”

Junzo looked up.  “ Well there’s always Jimmy Trauger.  The two of them are friends, they both heal at a phenomenal rate, and they’re both Ultraviolents.”

Ito considered carefully.  “ I see that fight going nowhere and quickly.”

Junzo smiled.  “ Give 'em a time limit and see if they cope.  Fifteen minutes should be enough for those two to have a chance to gross out the crowd with some truly visceral combat.”

Ito nodded.  “ And it neatly bypasses the need to discuss Mister Trauger.  Two birds, one stone.  Very well.  On another note, make this one a Crash test, as it will illustrate what happens when the unstoppable maw meats the inedible object.”

Wilson groaned.  Damn, Ito, I had no idea you were capable of being such a painful wiseass.”

Ito shrugged.  “ Not everything I do revolves around Martial Arts, you know.”

“Diamondback’s the next one.” Gunny Bardue smirked.  “ Let’s give her the unwanted allies scenario.  Program the fight for an attack by Deathlist or something.  Worst case scenario.”

“Who do we give as her unwanted ally?” Wilson grinned.

Ito spoke without pausing.  “ Hekate will do.”

I said it before, and I’ll say it again.  Frequently.  You are an evil, evil old man.” Wilson’s voice echoed the opinions of everyone in the room.  “By the way, Gunny, I got the perfect scenario for our queen of the Alphas.”

Ito looked over.  “ How difficult?”

Wilson smiled.  “ Dragonslayer simulation, max difficulty.  The one Erik wrote.”

Ito smiled.  “ And here I was thinking you’d be a less than apt contributor, Staff Sergeant.  I will expect you at all further crash meetings, as well as accepting my invitation to join us for tea to discuss the students' progress in the future.”

Wilson had been had and he knew it.  He’d just failed to weasel out of additional responsibilities at the school that Erik and Cat had snaked around, and now he was stuck for it.  “ I look forward to it, sir.”

“Good.  Now this brings us to our virtual unknown here, Caitlin, your 'adopted daughter' gunny.”

“Make sure to throw another cockroach here.” Wilson sat up.  “ Nobody here knows what she can do.”

Suzannah Hagarty looked up from some notes she was taking, looking rather surprised.  “How do you know someone and teach them yet have no idea what they can do?”

Ito looked at Hagarty.  “ Since Caitlin, and I know you are familiar with her previous incarnation as you helped Westmont bring her back after the explosion on the hazard range, arrived at Whateley six years ago she has been rather closemouthed about her experiences and what she is capable of.  She taught heavy weapons superbly, but no one here has seen her cut loose and go all out save for a few odd sensor images from Halloween.”

Hagarty looked thunderstruck.  “ Wait, you mean you had a teacher you knew virtually nothing about?”

Wilson shook his head.  “ No, we know a lot, like Carson didn’t like having Caitlin on-campus for the first two years.  He... She used to spar with me, and she concentrated solely on how long she could survive without taking a solid hit, not beating me.”

Bardue spoke up, “ And Wilson’s an exemplar six.  We know she’s better at taking on mutants than she is baselines.  We’ve had one or two incidents with the kids over the years, and he... she beat them, but I still have him cold in hand-to-hand and fencing, and I’m a sixty year old man.”

Wilson piped back in.  “ And now she’s gone straight to Exemplar 4 level with a tentative max of 1200 pounds, but the test results are a bit skewed by her accidentally destroying the weights, and a magic aura she has ZERO control over.”

Ms. Dennon added her two cents.  “ Add to this she will NOT go all out against the students that are her erstwhile classmates, and she has at least one known psychological issue that she was being medicated for before leaves us with no way to accurately gauge what we’re dealing with, baseline or otherwise.  Except to mention that she uses that godawful Military hodgepodge of Karate, boxing, judo and jujitsu.”

Hagarty nodded.  “ Well in our sparring match this... student showed a high degree of competence with her chosen fighting style.  She has adapted certain aspects of Greco-Roman High School Wrestling and some rugby-type maneuvers.  How many years of experience would you say she has with hand-to-hand?”

Bardue shrugged, “ I worked with her for a year and a half, and she sucked at Hand-to-Hand in a way that was sad.  So assuming a sudden shift in her ability I’d say no more than two years of practical application and then six years as an instructor here at Whateley.”

Ito nodded as Hagarty frowned.  “ Now you see our dilemma here.” He turned to the others.  “ I propose we use Lancer as one of her opponents for the Crash Scenario Gunny Bardue has suggested.  I will tap Hippolyta for the other opponent.  Her scenario should finally give us a fairly solid idea what the girl is capable of should she choose to push herself.  The choice of her opponents should allow her to do so without fear for their safety.”

Bardue nodded.  “ All right, now for our other problem children.  We need to decide if the following need their opponents chosen, or left in the random pool due to problems.  First up is Bloodwolf...”

“The jury is back, the verdict is in.  Watching paint peel is in fact unexciting as all get out.” Caitlin indulged in a bit of talking to herself.  Unfortunately with nothing else to do for hours on end except maybe destroy a computer by accident...  There weren’t too many other options.

Caitlin Bardue found herself in the odd position of being flopped out on her bed, on her back, from side-to-side with her head dangling off the edge, staring at the wards and runes scattered all over the room at odd angles.  Her dark hair was pooling in a metallic mass on the floor below her head, and the thought of brushing out that particular mop did not exactly bring a girlish giggle to her thoughts.  Cleaning the melted plastic out of her hair had been a real bitch, and she’d had to move to a metal brush she’d made out of some sheet metal with a file in a really bored moment.  Neither did the prospect of another day of school at Whateley Academy fill her with joy.

Oh sure, the school was cool enough, and interesting enough that she’d have loved to have come when she was younger.  That was the key word though, younger.  Despite her appearance to the contrary, the metal-haired, steel-disc-eyed artificer of Whateley Academy was almost thirty years old, and a far cry from the burgeoning fountain of social drama that most girls were in their teen years.  Never mind the prospect of going back to high school after a truly nightmarish stint in the military, six years as a teacher at said high school, and an involuntary, likely irreversible sex change did not exactly appeal.

Then there was the energy corona, her own, personal mystical lightshow that snapped and blazed whenever she moved.  It also frequently hurt like a motherfucker and the only time it ever left off was when she sat completely still, or was safely ensconced in the double-ward barrier in her room and on her clothing in the utility sheds.  Unfortunately, sitting still for long periods drove her absolutely buggy.  She felt at peace when she was up, moving and doing things, but she only got a respite from pain when she wasn’t.

The alarm clock began shrieking its message of wakeup from its place by the three computers set up in a line on the desk.  All three were virtually untouched because she didn’t want to risk annihilating them so no escaping into the world of GEO for her.  Fortunately the piercing wail of the alarm announced an ungodly morning hour that the security goons wouldn’t be questioning her as to why she was still awake at all hours of the night.  The whole not being able to sleep more than an hour at a time really sucked.

“All right, all right, shaddup!” She wandered over and slapped the snooze button, momentarily forgetting she was a lot stronger and shattered the plastic contraption on the desk.  “ Oh fucking brilliant.  What’ll you do next, kill someone’s puppy?”

Four AM was hardly a human hour to be awake unless you were a complete nutcase, a marine or a teacher at the Academy.  Unfortunately, Caitlin was all three, or was until mid-November when her life took a severe turn for the weird.  Now she was just a nutcase.  She even had the documentation to prove it, courtesy of Uncle Sam.

The storage sheds that were her erstwhile dorm room were not exactly what one would call homey, but it suited her, except for the rampant storm of glyphs and sigils that took up every square inch of wall space in order to suppress the magic corona effect that erupted whenever she moved faster than your average garden slug.  The heavy wards on her clothing picked up most of the slack, nearly completely suppressing it to the point where she could function normally.  Nearly being the word because any kind of strong emotions, especially rage and frustration brought the corona back full-bore.  When she was walking about in her clothing it was a nonstop thing, and when she started getting freaked it erupted into a nightmare storm of energy that pretty much did whatever the hell it felt like to the surrounding landscape.  She didn’t even want to think about what would happen were she to get caught in the open without either form of protection.  There had been a few near-misses in the short weeks since she began hanging out with the Outcast crew on a regular basis in the form of anxiety attacks when she thought about her situation too hard, or started dwelling on Halloween.

As she stepped out of her room and began the long, circular walk around Whateley, she refused to think of it as a patrol, the corona ripped back to life.  Filling her existence with the joys of odd lights, weird effects, spooky sounds and the occasional searing pains, the energy was a stark reminder that she was awake and alive.  Whether that was a good thing she preferred to leave to the philosophers.  Her situation would likely have been a lot more tolerable had Carson been a few seconds later in peeling her out of the cockpit of the Syndicate assault ship while screaming, foaming at the mouth and blowing shit up.

She killed that line of thought as soon as it started.  Dwelling on the past wasn’t healthy in her case, her own past or the nightmare flashes and memories of lives past being torn apart and turned into a horror.  Sometimes she found herself wishing for a clean slate of memory to match the new appearance, but the thought of losing the memories of the people she loved and had loved at one time or another was somehow even more painful even if they were dead or wanted nothing more to do with her.

“All right, what to do, what to do...” She began walking at a fair clip, watching the ground while she thought, a habit she’d picked up as a kid when she tried to figure things out.  “ Take a walk, and then finish up at the armory.  Maybe clean up all my old Corps shit for when they get a new instructor.”

Her time in the Marines was neither a time of joy, nor a source of sea stories to tell over a beer except with the few men still alive who had been there with her, fighting like madmen to stay alive against the storm of combat that raged around them nearly continuously it seemed while the rest of the nation carried on, blissfully unaware of the nightmares lived in their name.  The few peaceful memories from that time were marred by the many funerals attended, the constant suspicious eyes of her commanding officers, and the haunted stares of those few with her who knew that their time on the earth would likely be measured in breaths once the shooting inevitably started.  Felicis Fossor, “Lucky Fools,” had been the motto of a few good men who tried to live the Corps motto of Semper Fidelis, “ Always Faithful.”

It seemed that every time she looked for happy memories she wound up sliding back to that time six years ago that she had been approached by Gunny Bardue, who had been her platoon sergeant at one time, with an offer that would pay the bills and maybe help her find some measure of peace if not redemption.  Teaching at Whateley Academy had been the most rewarding time in her life, and had gone a long way in healing old wounds.  She had made friends, and taught children the grim methods of surviving in a world with assholes like her.  Most of them were alive still, even if they weren’t on the side of light and right, but it worked well for her.  Besides, if she’d never come to Whateley she’d have never met Cat, and she wouldn’t trade those happy memories for anything, even some way of numbing the emotional pain.

 She began feeling better as she began her circle of the campus, and thought about the day before.  Ito’s little speech about combat finals had thoroughly failed to pique her interest or awe as it had so many other students.  She’d heard it a dozen times before, hell she’d given it before, but while she was trying to doze off through it Razorback had kept elbowing her so she wouldn’t miss “ the big event.” The Outcasts had been pulling some medical evaluations and doing the legwork to get Cait added to their team roster during most of their classes, so had to attend the “ make-up” briefing.  The oversized lizardman was nothing short of gleeful at the prospect of a good row at the end of the semester.  She could forgive him, however, since he wasn’t exactly privy to that information.  The long and short of it was she doubted that Carson would allow her into the arena with a student under those circumstances, plus she qualified as a person with a major, life-altering exemption to the whole combat finals gig.  Exploding and waking up with boobs isn’t something one writes off as just another thing, no matter how hard she tried.

That almost set off another string of melancholy thought when she saw something shiny.  She looked and grinned as she realized it was a watch face reflecting the dim lighting, not thirty yards away, attached to a guy carrying an attaché case who was looking at her and trying not to look nervous about the fact that he’d been spotted.  Caitlin would love to think herself a mature, semi-functional human, but her time at Whateley had given her a true love for fucking with the recruiters who thought they were slick enough to get onto campus unseen, catch a particular student, or set of students alone and pitch them the recruiting spiel.  CIA, FBI, NSA, it didn’t really matter.  She just loved to embarrass the stupid bastards.  It was like crack for her.  Once had never, ever been enough.

Her worries forgotten, Caitlin waved to the man and flashed a smile then continued on while her quarry relaxed.  Of course no student would question the presence of an adult in a suit on-campus.  Kids aren’t that jaded.  Pity for him that she wasn’t just another kid.  Plus it was the added bonus that they seemed to think coming early was a good idea to avoid pricks like her.  She’d gotten really good at catching them right under the noses of the students and security over the last six years.

Caitlin darted into the cottage the man was waiting by, and had a look-see.  Poe.  She hadn’t realized she’d gone so far off her beaten path.  Of the teachers she was one of the few fully appraised of the situation at Poe, mostly because she guessed and asked Bardue and Carson why they’d quarantined the gay and lesbian crowd away from everyone else.  The answers made sense even if they were a bit off the Politically Correct, and somewhat shortsighted in her opinion.

One broom handle and a roll of duct tape later and she was out of the cottage with none the wiser, and began giggling to herself maniacally as she began planning this poor schlep’s fate on the fly.

“I gotcha now you stupid jackass.”

The window being open was bad, but Nikki’s tossing, turning and making weird noises was too much at this ungodly hour.  Chaka hadn’t exactly been a light sleeper before her mutation kicked in, but one sound outside of “ normal” and she was up and alert like nobody’s business.  The sound was suspiciously akin to a woman giggling to herself in a way that could only be described as disturbed.  It took her a moment to realize that her elfin roomie’s oddball noises weren’t, in fact, the source of the maniacal giggling.  There was a god.  Unfortunately God had a sense of humor in that Fey’s voice cracked up in a maniacal mirror of the giggling she had heard before.  It just didn’t sound the same.

“I gotcha now you stupid jackass.” The mumbled words were clear and creepy enough from the little redhead, but the flash of bright light outside the window and muffled yelp of fear from below were just TOO much!

“Nikki wake up.” The statement was obviously too quiet and Nikki was notorious for being a slow learner when the need to wake up came around.

Chaka hopped off the bunk, leaned over the Elfin Princess, cupped her hands around her mouth, and did an impression of a bullhorn.  “ You in the red hair! Pull over and produce your license to create havoc, and a photo ID!”

Nikki jerked upright with a freaked expression on her face and a yelp, breathing hard and looking wildly around for the danger.  Seeing only her semi-maniacal roommate, she started, then predictably reacted as any young, tired, silver-blooded Sidhe noble who had just been woken up halfway into the night would.  She whined.

“Come on, Chaka, it’s four in the freaking morning!”

“Yeah, and you’re doing weirdness to people in your dreams again!  Put some clothes on.  We need to go make sure you didn’t hurt anyone.” Chaka seemed mildly annoyed.

“Huh?” Yes the young redhead was not so quick on the uptake in the early A.M. hours.

“Look Nikki, I know you and Unga-Dunga like to commune with the Force or whatever it is you do when you sleep, but I distinctly heard you say 'I Gotcha now you stupid jackass', then I saw a flash of freaky blue light, and some dude yelped.  I think you might’ve hit one of the security monkeys.”

“Oh shit.” Nikki was out of bed and scrambling to get her clothes on in a flash, suddenly wide awake and moving.  It was probably one of the few times she moved with motivation and purpose before breakfast in the morning.

“Yep, that about sums it up!” Chaka hopped up and blitzed into her clothes, finishing before the elfin redhead was even halfway done.  “ Look on the bright side!  If you make the ultraviolent list because of this, they’ll probably give you a purple armband, accessorizing don’tcha know?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh you have no idea.”

The two girls were met in the hall by Hank in the common room, unexpectedly.  He came thumping down the hall with an irritated look in his eye.  The boy actually looked somewhat mature with the scowl on his face, the green workout T-shirt and camouflage pants with boots.  He saw the two girls and his expression softened a bit.

“You two hear the weirdness outside?”

“Yep!  And we figure it’s either Nikki magicking people in her sleep, or we get to go round two with some ninjas!” Chaka’s grin was enthusiastic as she bounced out the door.

“We do?”

Nikki shook her head, shrugged her shoulders and the two followed their hyperactive teammate out the door.  They found the spot where the flash occurred and Nikki stopped cold.  The Ley lines here weren’t travelling in a completely normal pattern on the East side of Poe Cottage.  Hank and Chaka moved outward, looking for signs of the poor schlep that Nikki had supposedly zapped in her dreams.

Upon closer inspection the lines were twisted, knotted and warped in odd patterns.  She’d seen this over the past two or so weeks around campus off and on.  Lines knotted in a twist and power hanging, half-spent in the aether.  Each time she laid eyes on the phenomena she’d gotten a creeping feeling of recognition, like she’d seen this before.  It felt like a disruption in the natural flows more than a deliberate and controlled spellcasting.  Even in her worst moments she never knotted the flows, bent them, caused them to redirect, but never to knot up.  Earth Mother and Circe had dismissed the phenomena whenever she asked about it, but still that odd feeling of familiarity was there.

Careful child, this area is charged, but with what I’m not certain.

“Do you have any idea what caused this?  It feels familiar.” Nikki had gotten used to Aunghadhail’s omnipresent participation in her thoughts over the last month, and speaking to the shade of the ancient Sidhe queen hardly felt unusual anymore, even if it WAS extremely aggravating at times.

It does.  It’s like an echo, one I’m not sure even I can recall.  This feels old, and powerful, and I’ll hazard that whatever is causing it is not exactly in control at the moment.  This kind of knotting is usually only caused by someone completely bereft of control, some form of mystical disaster, or a monumental fool.

“Not one of those possibilities is very comforting.” Nikki followed the lines to a spot on the wall where the concrete looked like it had melted and run like wax, leaving a semi-opaque, glassy substance around what looked like a large, but feminine handprint embedded in the concrete.  Whoever had made that had hands almost as big as Hippolyta’s.

Be cautious, child.  I can still sense whatever did this in the area.  Leave the tangles for now.  They will revert to normal of their own accord in the next day or so.  The damage is not severe.

Nikki didn’t get the chance to agree or argue when Hank let out a sharp whistle, pointing at the snow nearby.  The two girls joined him, and they looked at the ground.  Both Nikki and Toni blinked for a moment to process what they were seeing, but there it was.  A patch of ground that looked like it had been torn up in some kind of struggle, and what looked literally like liquid glass rippling in the snow-divot-patches.

“Ok, now this is weird even for you Nikki.  What’d you do, eat after midnight again?” Chaka looked over; noting the drag marks on the ground, indicating someone or something had dragged a struggling captive away from the cottage into the woods.

“I didn’t do it.” Fey shook her head.  “ I never jacked up the magic inherent in an area like whatever did this.  It’s like someone took all the Ley lines and decided to play cat’s cradle with them at random.”

“Never mind when you zap someone, your hobgoblins don’t wear women’s sneakers and drag people into the brush.” Hank turned and began slowly following the path of the drag marks, keeping a sharp eye out for anything, interposing his body between the two girls even as he waved Toni to the flank to cover both him and Fey.  The Kimbas had learned some hard lessons over the past months about fighting.  One of the foremost items on the team’s agenda was keeping enemies off the elfin redhead long enough to bring her considerable mystical power to bear.  Once Fey started slinging the magics in earnest, things tended to fold over and go crunch, and when combined with Tennyo’s raw firepower, Hank’s near-invulnerability, Chaka’s insane martial arts, Phase’s wiliness and Jade’s knack for sheer mayhem things tended to get very rude, very quickly for the opposition.  God forbid Sara or Chou decided to tag along and help.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Hank.” Fey slid into a watchful rearguard as Hank crept forward.

Chaka had disappeared on the sides and was far from being the kooky, bouncy, hyper girl she normally was.  She actually paid attention when Hank started making moves like he expected trouble.  While he wasn’t exactly the leader, he had the best head for applied tactics in their group and, unlike them, had received a crash course in fighting actual military when he had first manifested his mutation.

As it turned out, the caution wasn’t so necessary, but what they found left them standing with their mouths wide open in shock.

A man was hanging from a tree branch, damn near mummified in duct tape. As they watched in stunned disbelief, one shoe abruptly fell off as he violently gyrated in mid-air trying attempting to wiggle free as the tape writhed unnaturally around him.

Muffled yelps of distress could be faintly discerned from the man as the empty briefcase bounced slightly upwards and snapped at the man’s socked foot. A small swarm of yellow Post-It Notes circled the man much like moths would circle a naked lamp bulb on a hot summer night.   Pamphlets and brochures were affixed as if someone had decided to ’tar and Feather’ the poor man with the contents of his violent briefcase.

Hank noted absently that someone had used a horde of smaller stick tabs that read, ‘signature’ and ‘confidential’ across the mans lower jaw in such a manner to give him a red and green paper beard. The more disturbing part of the man’s discomfiture was the message written in bright green friendly letters upon his forehead saying: I DRINK PEE.

Suddenly it seemed very unlikely that Nikki had anything to do with this one, as her weird magics and hobgoblins tended to not carry green Sharpies on their persons.

Chaka looked over the man for a second and she got a suddenly gleeful expression on her face.  She walked right up to the man and plucked one of the CIA recruiting pamphlets off him.  “ Hey, Sullivan. Is that a new brochure?” She leaned up against the CIA recruiter and idly flipped through the recruiting materiel while Nikki and Hank began snickering at the recruiter’s predicament.

Sullivan looked at them plantitively as Toni stuck the pamphlets back onto him.  “Keep up the good work, Sully.” The teenaged martial-artist began walking towards Poe. 

“Hey Chaka!” Hank hollered at her as she began meandering away, “ Don’t these CIA recruiter bastards come in packs?”

“Oh yeah, all the time.  Apparently it’s all the rage to have three or four grown men get their butts whupped all at once by kids.  Why do you ask?”

Nikki was standing over what Hank was staring at.  “ Because it looks like they tried to fight whatever got your buddy Sullivan here.  Looks like three others.  It looks like they got hauled off too.”

“Wow.  That IS interesting.  This calls for hot cocoa.” Chaka turned and walked away, leaving her two friends chuckling to themselves and shaking their heads as they followed.

Hank looked over at Fey and smirked.  “ I’ll tell Delarose to pick up a package out here once we get inside.” He began dialing on a cell phone as they reached the cottage.

“Mmmm....Carob...” Chaka said, doggedly trying to convince herself of her words.

No one was left to hear Sullivan whimper plantitively for someone to let him free until Security arrived six minutes later.

“Chief, Everhart just found another CIA recruiter duct-taped to the main flagpole.  Someone ran his shirt and pants up like a couple flags.” Lieutenant Simeon Trout of Whateley Security’s Third Platoon said easily.

“Isn’t she supposed to be off-duty?” Delarose asked mildly.

“Yeah but she called in about an hour ago.  Apparently she was up doing a morning run and found our first contestant after the Kimba kids called the one they found in.  She wants out to make sure the chumps aren’t here to talk to her again.”

“Fair enough, how many got jumped?”

Trout smirked.  “ We’ve found four in embarrassing positions around campus, there’s the one the kids reported earlier, another guy was found handcuffed and dangling from one of the building flagpoles with what can only be described as an Atomic Wedgie, the third is being treated for second-degree burns and frostbite in the infirmary.  He’s babbling about flashing lights and reality falling apart wherever “ it” touched something.  The fourth is currently being extracted from the flagpole I just mentioned.”

“Shit, that sounds like a familiar M.O.” Delarose thought for a moment.  “Alright, punch up the sensors.  Track down Caitlin Bardue for me, she’ll be joining the Security Auxiliaries this week, and I’d like to get her in here before Combat Finals start to get her kitted out.”

Trout leaned over the control console and began running a sweep.  “ Ok, checking known hangouts for her...  Not in the shed, not at Whitman or Twain, and none of the external campus sensors are picking her up.  Think she left campus?”

“Nope, check the sensors in the Range Four bunker.” Delarose leaned back and sipped his coffee while Trout checked the sensors.

“Nada, nada.  Hey, I got movement inside the back cage of the armory in there, with all that shit that fucker Mahren kept on personal lockdown.  Security lockout’s been overridden on-site.  How the hell did they get in there?  Is Mahren back?”

“No, no danger of Mahren coming back.  That’s Gunny B’s god-daughter, and Mahren transferred control and ownership of all his personal gear to her, hence she has the codes and access.  Plus if the rumblings I’m hearing from Hartford are correct, the little prodigy has all the licenses, and certifications to operate that range and even teach the classes if she was on the payroll.  Carson and Hartford are getting her set up as the manager for the range, tracking all the goodies for the ATF and Federal Marshals.”

“Not that I ain’t glad that asshole isn’t coming back, but I don’t get it.  Why are we letting a student have full access to the armory there when none of the security teams so much as have the main bunker access codes?  I still think that prick should have been subject to security oversight.”

Delarose looked at Trout with an irritated look, and then went back to watching the monitors.  “ She will have oversight.  I have those codes, Bardue and Wilson have the codes to the main bunker, and Everhart’ll have the cage access along with Bunker access once the girl gives them up.  Everhart will be responsible for monitoring Miss Bardue’s activities on-range for the foreseeable future.  Besides, Everhart’s the only one here who’ll get a quick idea how to handle the girl.  You, and your platoon do not have the licenses, nor clearances to touch ninety percent of the hardware kept in that bunker.  This is an old argument, and it will not be discussed further, am I clear?”

“Crystal, sir.” Trout went back to the com.  “ Hey Everhart, since you’re up and about anyway, we need you to go to the range four bunker and pick up a kid for Delarose.  She’s in the back cage with all the locked-out hardware.  Delarose wants you to get the access codes for the bunker and the back cage.  You get to monitor our new little range manager while we hunt for a new heavy instructor who we can legally hire.”

“Understood, ETA five minutes.”  Samantha Everhart’s voice came back over the comm channel crystal clear, and Trout let the freaky SEAL-bitch do her job.  He couldn’t screw with Delarose’s little princess, at least not with the old man standing over his shoulder.

Caitlin sat inside the back cage of the armory with all the hatches sealed and locked.  Sure enough every time she got in here the facility was in lockdown, a testament to certain parties' attempts to get into the bunker and to her collection of toys she kept sequestered away that included her personal stash of weapons, a full set of the Range REACT armor for the whole range crew and some little tidbits best left out of the public eye, be it for safety reasons or because some types of weapons and armor carried a bit too much notoriety to be seen in public.  The most egregious and obvious of the dangerous examples were the AEGIS Loaders.

The Ammunition Expedient Generation and Insertion System was an evolution of a devise pioneered by the notorious mastermind known as Gizmatic.  While the Devisor who had conquered his own small island nation in the Caribbean had graduated well before Erik Mahren had arrived on-scene at Whateley Academy, both Caitlin and Wilson still referred to the egomaniac as “ the one that got away.” The devise itself was small, and complex, resembling nothing so much as an odd ammo drum for a machinegun.  The original model had been buggy, dangerous to use and rife with flaws, as could be expected from a second-year student, but in the intervening years improving upon the system had been a pet project of the Whateley devisors who frequented the range.  The latest incarnation was a development by a freshman called Slapdash the year before.  Now Slapdash was in the Grunts team, and the devise was capable of feeding a machinegun a seemingly unlimited supply of ammunition until it eventually misfired and blew the bolt out of the top of the gun after prolonged use.

While this seemed on the surface to be a fairly inane development, the fact that the bullets weren’t completely stable resulted in them disappearing as the projectiles, casings and even the powder expended disintegrated, leaving no evidence besides bullet holes in whatever it was used to attack.  Due to the potential forensic nightmare, and a high potential for abuse and liability, Whateley kept the loaders locked down in Mahren’s secured section of the range four armory.

Caitlin was in a fairly good mood.  The recruiters hadn’t been able to put up much of a fight, but then they hadn’t been able to handle her before her change either.  She loved screwing with people who weren’t supposed to be on campus, and even as a semi-normal baseline bastard she had done her level best to make them pay in embarrassment and pride for every inch of ground they gained with the student body.  It was one of her passions, spooking the spooks.  They had hated her before and she saw no reason to end a fun string of harassment simply because her circumstances had changed.

Unfortunately, rather than the hours-long sneak and snatch runs she had done as a man, her heightened physical abilities had rendered the whole thing an exercise of about fifteen minutes.  It was almost anticlimactic.  The bruises were half the fun.  She did kind of feel sorry for the guy who’d accidentally gotten cooked and frozen a bit by her corona.  She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, just make them piss their pants and suffer the embarrassment of explaining to Delarose what had happened to them.

As a result, she found herself in the Range four bunker continuing a project she’d started about a week ago, marking glyphs and wards into every piece of gear in the armory.  It was painfully easy once she’d put her mind to it, and required very little conscious thought on her part, an outgrowth of her oddball artificer powers she’d been stuck with.  It did, however, mean that she wouldn’t accidentally destroy any of the expensive hardware stored at the Whateley ranges.  Wilson was still steaming over the destruction of three M-16’s on range one while he was on watch.  And it seemed her building odd things here and there, or modifying them were the only times when her wigged-out mystic aura didn’t interfere with whatever she was doing.

She had just put the finishing touches on the heavy Range REACT suit she’d worn as Erik Mahren in the past, both warding it against her aura and re-sizing it to fit her body.  She’d lost about seventy pounds of weight when she’d undergone her catastrophic change from human male to female artificer, and her body was a lot more lithe and slender, with less bulk muscle as a result.  So she’d been forced to adjust the armor for her new size, the fact that she sported breasts, and the fact that her hips and waist traced a more hourglass figure than the old, straight, hard lines she was used to.  It had taken some doing, but she’d managed to make the whole setup work, and the unpowered, heavy-plated armor was a lot easier to move around in than she remembered due to the raw physical strength her new form packed.

She tested the armor again, going through her full range of motion in the bulky rig.  It did constrict movement some, but it wouldn’t interfere with what she needed to do if she had to wear it again, namely cut loose with heavy firepower in the most violent and unsubtle manner imaginable.  The nine back hard points for spare rocket tubes were empty, as was the locking harness for the rocket launcher on her right hip. six spare barrels for a machinegun were strapped to her leg, and she began pulling her hair up so she could get the helmet on when a beep informed her that someone had opened the main blast door to the external part of the bunker from outside.

“Let’s see who’s knocking at my chamber door.” Caitlin flipped on the internal camera that only fed into the back cage and saw the petite blonde girl carrying a manila envelope heading straight for the back cage.  “ Hello what have we here?  You, my dear do not work here.  How’d you get my bunker code?”

She watched, amused at the internal control panel as the internal cage light flickered amber, then red almost faster than her eyes could track.  She wasn’t expecting THAT.  The monitors showed that the security lockout was being slowly overridden, even though the external controls had just had all power cut down to zero to deny access.  That couldn’t be good.  She settled the helmet on her head and adjusted the straps, then picked up her personal baby, a heavily modified M-240 Golf machinegun that had been tweaked to near-unrecognizability and locked an AEGIS to the carrier, then ran the feed to the tray and racked a round.  Whoever it was knocking at her chamber door was NOT getting at the plethora of her personal gear or the dangerous bits without some severe problems, compounded by the fact that she wasn’t just another human norm with some solid experience.

A quick look at the external monitor showed the cute blonde in jeans and a T-shirt standing outside, looking frustrated and annoyed.  Caitlin patched the com feed of the helmet to the external speakers in the main bunker and began speaking.

Samantha Everhart looked at the manila envelope Delarose had suddenly called her back to retrieve on the way to the bunker, mildly annoyed.  The recruiters were an amusing bit to an early morning.  She’d found the first one dangling from the horizontal flagpole above the entrance to Shuster Hall when she’d gone out for her morning run.  When she called it in she’d been told about the Kimba find and began hunting for any others, just in case they were prowling for her... again.  And now things were going into another day at work.  Hopefully this would be the last of the B.S. tonight.  Today was supposed to be her day off.

“Hive, what do we have on this Caitlin Bardue?” To the average outsider, it would appear that the seemingly teenage girl was talking to herself.

Checking records.  Caitlin Bardue, age sixteen, freshman.  No cottage listed.  Alternate housing in the northern storage sheds due to hazards to teachers and students.  Exemplar 4, Wiz and Devisor class, levels unknown, Esper 2.  File displaying now.

Sam scanned the file quickly, and noted the hazard warning on the student concerning an uncontrollable magic aura and a need to ensure that the wards on her clothing remained intact.  Two psych warnings gave notice that the girl was a high probable for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and a chemical imbalance in the brain leading to Intermittent Explosive Disorder, or something very like it.  Beyond that, there was actually a pathetically thin amount of information on this particular student.

“Not much to go on is there?”

Was that one of those rhetorical questions you mentioned?

“Yeah.” She punched in the external code to open the large, vault door and was gratified to see the large, circular door slide back and roll out of her path.  Delarose had given her that access when she had arrived, though she had never had a reason to use it.  Being a flag rank SEAL officer did bring SOME trust in the security/military professional world after all.  It also carried about the same amount of distrust.

The inside of the bunker was well-lit and she could see the front cage that dominated the majority of the space, with only a small section where the kids could requisition the firearms through a barred window.  Inside the cage was rack upon rack of firearms of every possible variety, including not a few that were still technically under development.

Getting through the cage area was simplicity in itself.  She simply let Hive take care of all the access codes and operate the security checkpoints.  The locker was well-maintained and it looked like the guns were clean.  The secondary security and range control console was in standby mode as it should be.

The bright red, curly-haired wig hanging off one of the machineguns did seem out of place though.

The back cage was misnamed.  Vault would have been a better word.  The blast door was solid Titanium-laced steel, presumably with a wheel-spoke locking arrangement.  There was a simple key pad and intercom setup.  “ Hive, go ahead and open it up.  I don’t feel like waiting on the little princess to get her shit together.” A split-second later the keypad went dark, and the indicator lights went out.

Hive cannot access the armory network through the keypad system.  Security lockout engaged as soon as a bypass was attempted.  Attempting to re-route power through the system.

“Wonderful.  How long is this going to take?”

Multiple interconnected and redundant systems.  High probability that this security system was built by a Devisor.  Hive is attempting to map the system to determine the best course of action, if any.  Estimate time to access eight minutes, thirty-three seconds.

Devisors were a pain in Sam’s ass on campus as their wonky science was a shoe-in for confusing Hive, as technically their little toys should not work, especially by Hive’s exacting and literal standards.

A countdown timer appeared in her vision and Sam sighed.  She wished Delarose had just given her the damned codes, so she wouldn’t have to wait on this girl to decide to get around to coming out.

“Attention.  You have just attempted to illegally enter a federally-monitored armory unit.” The female voice crackled out on the intercom.  “ You have thirty seconds to identify yourself or I will consider you hostile.”

Sam rolled her eyes, annoyed.  It was too early in the morning for this shit, and she hadn’t even had her morning cup of coffee.  “ Samantha Everhart with Whateley Security.  Delarose told me to come get Caitlin Bardue.”

“Wait one while I verify.”

Over the security net hive patched the call into her hearing.  It was surprisingly on the Range REACT secure channel.

“This is Range 4 Armory calling SecOne.  I have a blonde chickadee attempting entry into the back cage who claims she’s with you guys.  No uniform in sight, please advise.”

Delarose’s voice responded promptly, &“She’s there on my order Caitlin.  Let her in, and give her the cage access.  Only Samantha Everhart is authorized to have those codes besides myself.”

“Will do SecOne.  Hija...Range four armory out.”

Three seconds later Hive had withdrawn and the vault door unlocked and swung outward.  Sam saw a figure in heavy-plated tactical armor covered in black symbols and glyphs.  The name plate on the armor had been removed, and the figure looked like some kind of Space Marine in what was obviously some form of heavily-modified Land Warrior armor.  The person’s face was hidden under the helmet and a very large machinegun that she recognized was cradled in her arms.

“Caitlin Bardue I presume?” Sam asked as she stepped forward cautiously.

“That’s me.  Hang on a second while I pop the armor off and break down the banger.  I’ll come with you once I get the shit stowed.” The armored figure snapped and hissed as she moved, crazy energies ripping across her armored form.

Sam nodded quietly and watched as the young woman, there was no other way to describe her, rapidly shucked the armor and stowed it in a storage rack with the machinegun and loader.  The back cage was tricked out with the latest and greatest in security systems, and she got a rundown from hive just how much of a nightmare it would be to override and unlock it without the codes.  Approximately nine minutes, an eternity of work for the nanites who could crack most security algorithms inside a few seconds.

“So what’s with the security system?  I’ve never seen one that could lock me out.”

Caitlin looked over, pulling out the improvised clip she’d put her hair up with and let it fall freely behind her.  “ Devisors put up the system three years ago.  The damned thing’s so stupid-full of redundancies that people have gotten locked in here without any way out for hours.  Any attempt to bypass any of the control nodes results in total power lockdown before the locks move even a millimeter.”

“Paranoid much?”

“Have to be.  There’s plasma weapons in these storage racks back here, and not a few little goodies that’d make the NSA shit kittens.  Last time I accidentally locked myself in I had to disassemble half of it, unlock it, reassemble it and reset it.  Thirty hours of work because of a glitch.  Delarose was pissed.  So we rigged an override control in Kane Hall to unlock and reset the fucker.”

The main desk and file cabinets had a computer which was turned off, and there were two photos, the first one was of a blonde man with steely eyes and a short, blonde with a pixie like haircut.  The second was a group photo of seven men standing alongside one another in civilian attire outside the front gate of Camp Pendleton.  Every one of them looked like marines on liberty.  The photos drew a shock of recognition from Sam, and not exactly in a happy way.  She knew five of the men in the photos, one of whom was hugging the blonde in the other photo.  She idly went over and picked up the group shot and stared at it.

“I’m done, and I know you’re with Security, but would you mind not fondling the pictures?” Caitlin’s clothing under the armor consisted of a white tank top, fingerless gloves, and tight jeans.  Sneakers finished the ensemble best described as “ Wiccan from Hell.”

“I recognize these guys.  Know them from back west.  Buncha unruly sons of bitches.”

Caitlin nodded and pointed at the man standing to the far right.  “ Erik Mahren.  He used to be the heavy weapons teacher here until he hit a burnout spike and went GSD on us.”

Sam looked up, somewhat surprised.  “ Mahren was a mutant?” Another odd bit was the way she talked easily, like she didn’t care one whit that Security wanted her, and her use of terminology was almost like some of the teachers.  Maybe she was reading too much into it and she was just dealing with one of the many genius level exemplars on campus.

Caitlin looked at the photos.  “ Yeah.  He was a bit more than shocked by the whole thing, to say the least.  By the way, the top drawer has the instructions for setting up access codes for the range.  Read 'em, memorize 'em and put the paper back.  You have to do it from Delarose’s desk at Kane Hall.”

Caitlin stood easily, racking her brain for any memory of where she might have seen this chick somewhere.  It didn’t add up.  She wasn’t any of the Marines from the base.  She’d have been about twelve when she, as Mahren, had left the Corps.  There was no memory of anyone’s children ever being brought around her or her team, and she’d have remembered anyone looking like her if she’d known them personally.  Maybe she was one of Prison Bitch’s myriad girlfriends.  Who knew?

“Ok, I’m ready.  Let’s head on out.”

Sam followed Caitlin out, noting very carefully how the girl meticulously locked down everything, as well as the girl’s obviously odd features.  It was how she moved that didn’t add up though.  Upon reflection Sam realized that both of their respective body language and habits were very similar.  Caitlin moved like she had a purpose in life, and was charging forward to meet it.  She also scanned the area every few feet unconsciously, and didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter.

It wasn’t till the pair were at Kane Hall that Caitlin’s curiosity got the better of her.  “ So where did you meet Uncle Mahren?  He never mentioned anything about you.”

“Uncle Mahren?”

“Yeah, I kind of latched onto him as a kid when he was still in Dad’s Unit with Gunny Bardue.”

“Long story, I’m not technically allowed to talk about most of it, but he struck me as the kind of guy who didn’t put much stock in rank when he was actually doing what he did.” Sam pointed Caitlin through security towards Delarose’s desk, a place she’d been millions of times, usually to threaten Trout and members of third platoon with bodily harm for “ borrowing” gear from an armory.

Caitlin frowned a bit.  Odder and odder, the questions got more questions.  The mere fact that she knew enough about her past that she wouldn’t talk about it was worrying.

“Oh yeah, Caitlin, Delarose said you needed this.” Sam handed over the manila folder to the girl, who looked at it curiously, then took it gingerly, like she was afraid she’d destroy it.

“Thanks, I’ll look through it when I’m sure I won’t fry it.”

They rounded the corner and saw Delarose looking at the security console over Lieutenant Trout’s shoulder.  He nodded to them as they entered the room, and Caitlin did a double-take as she saw something that connected in her brain finally on the Warning Board that she had failed to notice before.

“Razorback’s an Ultraviolent?” The girl looked mildly startled at seeing the picture of the spined velociraptor kid on the ultraviolent board in the number four slot behind Bloodwolf, Maggot and Killstench.

Delarose shook his head mildly.  “ You’d have known that if you’d paid attention to half the security memos that didn’t pertain to the range, Miss Bardue.”

“Why isn’t he carrying an armband or tracker then?”

“He’s on probation.  We haven’t had a serious outbreak from him in the past semester, so he’s getting his chance to escape the board.”

Hive helpfully displayed the full dossier on Razorback rapidly in Sam’s vision.  “Hey chief, what’s class-three rager mean?  I know what a rager is but I’ve never heard classifications before.”

Hive immediately called up and displayed the information on ragers.  Class-1’s were the ones who had short-duration temper blowouts, usually just enough to swing a couple times or break something.  Class-2’s were the ones who once they got going, kept going until they were taken down, restrained or they wore themselves out.  Class 3 ragers were the nightmares, people who not only went on long, tearing, violent outbursts, but who actually became more deadly when they were raging.

“Razor’s a class THREE?”  Caitlin seemed a bit more than alarmed.

Delarose sighed.  “ We’ll talk about it later Caitlin.  Time to pop you out of that neat little bubble you’ve been living in.  So I need to talk to Samantha here about the security arrangements, and she will be your oversight on the ranges for the future.”

Delarose jerked his head in the direction of Trout and patted his sidearm at Caitlin, whose eyes immediately tracked over and locked on the Ivory-handled automatic pistol he wore strapped to his hip.  “ Oh hell no.” she hissed fiercely.

“Samantha, come to my office please.  Caitlin, take care of whatever issues you have with the range counts then wait for us in the ready room.”

Samantha watched confused as the metal-haired, steel-eyed exemplar gave Delarose a vicious grin and popped her knuckles.  “ The counts will be fixed shortly Chief.”

When the two entered the Chief’s office Delarose left the door open a crack and sat down.

“Chief what the hell was that...” Samantha began as he held up a finger to wait.

A loud SLAM! reverberated through the hallway and Sam clearly heard Caitlin let loose on a screaming tear.

“All right you jakey-ass gomer motherfucker, let’s chat!”  The words were shrieked then punctuated with another loud thump and the sound of a pistol being cocked.

Sam was up and moving for the door when Delarose stopped her with a word.  “Sit.”

“But she’s.” The sound went abruptly silent in the control area for a moment.

“Boys I suggest sitting back down, your platoon leader here and I are going to have a chat, aren’t we you rabid cockbite?”

“Everhart this is an old song that has to be sung every now and again.  If she doesn’t do it, then Wilson, Bardue or Smythe will do it, and I don’t feel like having that particular incident occurring.  So sit down, and let the dominance challenge play itself out here.”

“I’ve seen a lot of shit from you, asshole, but stealing from a dead woman is low even for you!” The girl’s voice was interrupted by trout’s voice saying something unintelligible before she yelled again.  Sam could say one thing, the girl could PROJECT.  “Shut your fucking cockholster!”

“Chief, is it healthy to let a student make threats and scream at your security teams?”

“No, but in this case, it’s been a long time coming and Caitlin there is in charge of tracking all of the various firearms in the Whateley ranges, so if they come up missing, she can be held legally accountable.  She’s correcting the issue.”

The voice was a lot lower, but still clearly audible.  “Now, the serial number on this pretty little handgun you have tells me it belongs to Cat McQuiston, who died on Halloween.  This gun went missing the day her father came here to collect her personal effects, along with thirteen other weapons from the Range Two cage.  Now I’m going to assume that you were merely recovering the weapon to return it to its proper place and owner.  Am I right?  Nod your head if I’m right.” There was a pregnant pause for a minute. 

“Good, now in the spirit of this happy recovery, I imagine that by the time I get done with Delarose here you and your boys will have recovered all of my missing toys, including Wilson’s KXT Sniper rifle, and have them back in Range Two where they belong aren’t you?  Good boy.  I’d hate to see your platoon have a dinner date with the Fort Leavenworth prison hospital, wouldn’t you?” The rant was ended and they heard angry footsteps pass the hallway, and a hissing ZAP! caused the door to slam shut.

Delarose chuckled and checked the door for damage.  “ Girl’s still got it.  I imagine that answers a lot of questions about biology affecting personality.”

“Chief, what the hell was the point of all that?” Sam was confused and mildly annoyed.  “ And if that was the sound of a normal student I’ll eat my own goddamned head!”

“What that was about, is a rampant problem we have here at Whateley stemming from our 'neutral grounds' status.  As you’re aware, all of the Security teams here draw extra pay from outside in return for information.  Trout and Third Platoon draw most of their pay from sources like the Syndicate and other illegal groups.  We can’t prove it of course, but it’s more or less fact.” He sat back down at his desk.

“So why was that better than having the other range instructors do the talking?”

Delarose sighed.  “ Partly the neutral grounds thing, partly the fact that if Bardue, Smythe or Wilson did the screaming it would be with federal agents on-hand to arrest the lot of them, and I’d have to hire a completely new platoon, most likely from the same types that those jackholes hail from.”

“So it’d just get you a new crew, very likely one that’s even worse?”

“More or less.  The reason Whateley Ranges didn’t suffer their predations was the fact that Bardue and Smythe used Erik Mahren as their hatchetman.  He was a good guy, but he had no problem using the unholy specter of fear to keep the lot of them in line.  Since he basically exploded and we haven’t had a range manager besides Bardue in the interim we’ve had a few items come up missing.  Caitlin seems to be following old patterns, and I’d imagine that Trout’s going to come to be more afraid of her than him.”

“Mahren, you know Chief, I saw a picture of him, along with seven buddies of his from back in the Corps.  He didn’t happen to have a tattoo of a knight spearing a dragon with Hijacker written underneath it did he?”

“You knew him then.”

Sam nodded.  “ Yeah I knew him and his team.  Buncha loose cannon sonsabitches with very little of what one would call discipline or espirit de corps.”

Delarose nodded.  “ He’d been recovering here as a teacher for the past six years.  He and his fiancée both gave their all to defend the school on Halloween, but she died.  The pistol Trout was carrying had been hers.  Erik went self-destructive; Bardue tried to help, and then had a burnout episode on the Hazard area.  Now he’s no longer here.”

“But now you have Caitlin, who happens to have all the necessary paperwork to handle these ranges somehow.”  The pieces clicked together in Sam’s head rapidly.  “You know she dropped her drawers.  She talks like a teacher, and she almost said Hijacker on the radio.”

“I know.  I need to talk to her about shit like that.  Just do me a favor, and don’t out her even to the platoons.  There is some funky-ass shit going on with her mutation, and I got a bad feeling our little lady there is in for a rough ride.  But for now, do me a favor and make sure that Trout’s weapons recoveries are successful, will you?  I’d hate for that girl to actually get mad enough to press charges, or do something permanent to him.”

A Whateley Academy Story

Call The Thunder

By Joe Gunnarson and the Whateley Crew

Chapter 2: Wake-up Call

Monday, December 11th, 2006

The Crystal Hall was packed, with most of the students crammed into the cafeteria, vying for breakfast and time in the excited rush to get fed. Most of them were jonesing for the good seats in Arena 99 and didn't want to be caught in the nosebleed section when the fun began. Only a few tables sported students taking their sweet time, mostly because their seats were reserved, they thought the Combat Finals was just another potential ego-train, or they figured that there would be mayhem aplenty to be witnessed, so were in no hurry to fight the crush for the good seats.

The Alphas were at their accustomed table talking, unconcerned by the frenetic movements of the lesser students. Sara's small cluster of friends had settled into a small corner, deliberately moving at a more relaxed pace in comparison to their peers. The Wild Pack just sat, shaking their heads while the Capes were relaxed and S.T.A.R. League Junior settled in to watch the aftermath and help the Security forces on Campus keep things from heating up too much during the inevitable row that was in-progress. Most of the Junior and Senior power teams treated everything like business as usual, while the froshes and sophomores jostled, shoved and bolted in and out of the Crystal hall like their asses were on fire.

In one of the less-frequented spots used by the Crystal Hall, five of the most heavily GSD students who were still able to move about on their own without assistance or special gear wolfed down plates of food at their normal, ferocious pace. Well, Jericho's wardrobe was usually considered severe GSD all on its own. Razorback, Diamondback, Jericho, Phobos and Deimos sat at their table, joking, making wisecracks and generally being a bunch of loons, as they were wont to do. Neither Jericho nor Diamondback questioned the presence of their three ultraviolent friends, and all in all the company was always welcome.

Jericho was grinning while he talked. “So Jobe being the arrogant little bugger decides that he is wants in on the action! I swear to god these two could give lessons in the Mad Scientist community for hokey attitudes. So while I'm telling Belphegor that no, I wasn't going to let him use my table-scanner to work the bugs out of his latest creation of abominable genetics Jobe makes like he's all sly and walks by, pocketing Belfy's blood samples from the scanner that I'm ensuring isn't working and replacing them with something else.”

“Oh dear God, please tell me they're not still snarking on and on about that perfect girlfriend shit.” Phobos, one of the 'Fury twins' put her lower left arm to her face and sighed.

The Fury twins were card-carrying members of the small, but odd group of Whateley girls who fell into the category of beautiful, but creepy. Except for hair color they were identical twins with Phobos having bright, flame-red hair and Deimos having hair so black it almost had blue highlights. Both of them had three pale green eyes apiece, fangs, four arms with pretty little clawed hands, a pair of whiplike reptilian tails, small horns coming from their foreheads and digitigrate legs ending in hooves. The fun part was the aura they both had that left bystanders with a feeling of creeping unease, or outright fear that spiked straight to absolute terror when they were adrenaline rushing or just plain mad. Anyone they hung out with on a regular basis was invariably very hard to spook, or just had a hefty amount of willpower. Even then they were uncomfortable to be around for long stretches.

“Oh yeah, perfect girlfriend this, Dhrow that, both accusing each other of stealing their research.” Jericho's grin started eating his face. “Well of course Nephandus and his stupid-ass prettyboy attitude has to go defend his Bad Seed buddy and brings over this weird cyborged-out golem thing. To make a long story short, threats flew, the screaming started, Neph made an ass on himself with his speech about how he was the nemesis of all that was pure and then Belph started claiming he was the true genius. It devolved from there and all right in front of my shop space in the main bay. So I did what any aspiring weird science fanatic does. Sat back, moved my tools and took a sip of my coffee.”

“So what happened?” Deimos liked Jericho's stories from the Devisor Lab, even if they didn't have a punchline.

“Well, a scuffle started, when Bephegor realized that Jobe had snaked his DNA samples, and Nephandus started cackling, and calling him a fool. So things are getting really heated when Belphegor threw a wrench, missed Nephandus and knocked my coffee out of my hand and spilled most of it on the shop floor.”

Razorback and Diamondback, Jericho's reptilian teammates turned and looked at him curiously. If there's one thing that anyone could call truly neurotic about their team Devisor, it was his obsession with coffee, his personal Black Death and inspiration. Even back home in Texas screwing with Joe Turner's coffee mug was akin to a death warrant, because he'd start the pranks, and wouldn't stop until he got bored. Even the bullies left the fat kid's thermos alone, although these days Jericho was looking less chubby around the cheeks and belly. Hard work and trying to keep up with a trio of exemplars will tend to do that to someone.

“So now, I'm thinking to myself, 'self, these asshats just spilled my Java all over my workshop floor.' So now not only am I gonna have to be the poor ass that has to go get the mop, but I have no coffee. And the coffeemaker was all the way at the opposite end of the Lab. This was a true dilemma for me.”

“Oh dear god, here it comes.” Diamondback was grinning. Razorback had already begun chuckling.

Jericho leaned back in his seat, idly playing with his coffee mug and noted that it was almost empty. He downed the last of it and smiled. “So I do what any self-respecting Devisor does when his plans are thwarted. I unleashed my Arachnid bots on the lot of them because I still have them hooked into the teleporter marix that they keep fired up to move heavy shit around. So now, Nephandus and Belphegor are being swarmed by doberman-sized metal spiders, and Jobe is laughing his merry little ass off at them. But I haven't forgotten him, oh no. I very calmly went back to my locker, and pulled out a nice bit of work that I'd stolen from him earlier this semester. He borrowed my surgical tools without asking, so turnabout's fair play. I of course am completely innocent of all wrongdoing, merrily setting up Belphegor's auto-injector with something I chose at random from his mutation rack at Jobe's work console, since I can't read. I swear these twits couldn't have given me better cover.”

“So finally the teachers get to the scene and they're trying to get my little technological terrors under control when Neph, who's screaming like a little girl while they try to maim him, gets the bright idea to blow a magically amped EMP grenade in the middle of the cluster. And people wonder why I tempest-harden everything. Oh man, you could hear screaming clear across the bay, hell Megadeath threw his wrench across the damned Workshop and started 'dricking himself. He was pissed. It all devolved from there. Meanwhile I wiped a bit of the little concoction from Jobe onto Belphegor's thermos of whatever the hell he drinks that I had conveniently wandered over by, tapping my cane the whole way. Then, I went and poured a bit of Belpho's 'Eye-enhancement' serum into Nephandus' tea, another acquisition from earlier that he wanted to test on me. I kept it and told him it just gave me gas.”

-Oh you are a rotten fucker Jericho. I approve, and I ask you to remind me never to piss you off. - Razorback was signing away, and enjoying the tale as it went off.

“So finally, Mr. Bumsfeld and Ms. Merenis get things under control when my spiders 'conveniently' lost power and switched off. I, of course, simply use my cane to hunt for my portable control unit that had been seemingly stomped on by Neph's Golem-thing, which is at this point twitching and crying out like a wounded moose from the EMP shock. We have a near-riot forming around the little escapade as the other Devisors realize that these three idiots were the source of the EMP burst, and I still don't have coffee. Well, Bunny, being the little sweetie she is, helped me clean up the coffee mess around my station and refills my mug for me. That girl is forever on my list of friends” Jericho grinned evilly. “Whether she wants to be or not.”

“Poor, poor little Poesie. She knows not what she has done.” Diamondback said solemnly, then started cackling maniacally.

“Now, after things calm down, Belph and Neph are trying to calm down, drinking their non-coffee beverages like the heretics that they are when Jobe yelps like Old Yeller while holding his hand. Yup. He found Belphegor's present. Belphegor drinks a few more sips and then turns green and starts throwing up all over the place, and drops a load in his pants as Jobe's little concoction makes him lose all control over his digestive tract. Nephandus starts screaming and clutching his eyes, screaming about going blind, which he was since they were turning into something resembling a bad butt joke, and Jobe's arm starts flopping around like a boned fish with the fingers fusing together. Looks like I found Belpho's Kraken formula he was going on and on about. Oops.”

The Outcasts and the Fury twins started chuckling to themselves as Jericho summed up. “It took those three morons a WEEK to get that shit out of their systems and reverse the changes. The entire time they were furiously plotting revenge, and from what I understand, they are all planning their vendetta to go off during Combat Finals, with a little encouragement from Yours Truly of course. So now we enter Combat finals with Round Two in the offing and I have me some serious Egos to annihilate. I mean, how the hell do you miss the blind guy in dreadlocks, a kilt and a purple wifebeater get up, walk away, and come back a few minutes later after you tear up his work space?”

Phobos and Deimos were smiling beatifically. The pair of them hated Jobe and Nephandus with a passion bordering on holy. Apparently Jobe had been the cause of their extra arms and claws, as well as the hooves when he'd made a perfectly reasonable-sounding offer to help them overcome their conjoinment issues when they got angry and to get rid of their paired tails and extra eyes so they could fit in better. The current odds were as soon as Jobe stepped off campus during graduation they were gonna tear him limb from limb. Wishful thinking kept them from going nuts.

Belphegor was another “helpful” rat-bastard who'd originally tested his Kraken Formula on a girl called Grabby, who was now scaled like diamondback, but with cream and pinkish scales. Her legs were gone, replaced with eight thick octopus tentacles that were strong enough to keep her upright and mobile, and her arms had been replaced with yet another pair of tentacles, all delicately scaled. Grabby had been looking for a way to correct a cerebral palsy problem she was rapidly succumbing to. It worked, but the cure was almost as bad as the disease, as she was now one of the freaks of Whateley.

Nephandus... Well what could be said about Nephandus that didn't involve him being an arrogant, pigheaded prettyboy with far too much money and far too few attacks of conscience. He, like Jobe and Belphegor, tried to be the brooding, and impressive evil genius warlock with style. Unfortunately he WAS a genius, but he couldn't get the brooding down, and he lacked in anything resembling style save his rich kid wardrobe. Nephandus was the brutalized butt of many of Jericho's pranks, up to and including Jericho sneaking into the lab, breaking into Nephandus' storage units, then altering many of the little toys with which Neph tried desperately to win the love, affection and the minds of a few of the girls at school, even the annoyingly hot Fey.

The chatter went on for a few minutes when Deimos growled above her tray, which was almost screaming for mercy as she tore into the assorted foods with a gusto that would have made a rabid pack of wolves proud. Phobos looked over and grimaced.

“Heads up guys, Pretty at three o'clock, coming our way like she wants something.” the tricloptian redhead mumbled.

Everyone snaked a glance over and the three Outcasts started chuckling.

“Chill ladies, that’s just Caitlin,” Diamondback smiled. “She got here while you two were at that funeral your family pulled you for. Trust me, she's cool.”

“If you say so.” Phobos and Deimos did the particular creepy twin trick of saying the exact same thing, at the exact same time, in the same tone.

Razor gave out a barking screech and pumped a fist in the air at the chrome-haired girl burning with insane energies, and she visibly smiled. “Hey Razor, how's it hanging?”

-Down, a little to the left and hard to carry.- Being mute never stopped Razor from being a smartass since he knew sign language.

Jericho and Diamond both started snickering while Phobos and Deimos watched Caitlin with leery eyes.

“That one's a storm,” Deimos muttered. “I can feel her from here. Cheerful on the surface, cold-blooded fury and frustration in the middle. And fear, but not from us.” Her sister nodded slowly. “None of it's directed at us.”

“That's normal for her.” Diamondback nodded toward the newcomer.

“Yeah, and that aura she's porting's weird. She rips up reality just by being in it.” Jericho's expression went from thoughtful to gleeful as Cait got to the table. “It's just fucking cool to watch.”

Caitlin dropped her tray unceremoniously, as usual, next to Razorback and slid in next to the dinosaur-like rager. “Can someone translate what he said?” She jerked her thumb at him.

“Razor says hi.” Jericho grinned wider.

-No I didn't you prankaholic nerdboy. I said my balls were lopsided. Get it straight.-

“And he's jealous that you can wear that halter so well. Something about getting himself fitted for panties and a dress.” Razor hit Jericho between the eyes with an egg in response.

Diamondback smirked. “The boys are giggling themselves stupid over Jericho's antics in the labs. So while they get their 'it's all about me' time, this is Phobos and Deimos. They're the infamous Fury twins I told ya about.”

“I thought you had a fear thing going on.” Caitlin looked at the two, shrugged, then proceeded to start ripping her plate apart. Really the only thing that separated the two semi-normal outcasts from their more feral or animalistic friends in eating habits was their penchant for using utensils.

“And I thought your aura made reality... go... Haywire?” Phobos wasn't really able to inject the snark as a jagged bolt of green energy arced along her hand and caused the fork to animate in Caitlin's hands. The manic piece of metal immediately tried to escape her hand by stabbing it's tines at her eyes after throwing a piece of sausage at her.

Caitlin gave Phobos a blank look. “Oh how I just love being me.” she deadpanned. She slammed the fork to the table and drew her obsidian-bladed harvester and cut the thing in half, whereupon it sparked, and went back to normal, albeit with the tines curled up in a way that was akin to a dead insect's legs.

Phobos and Deimos exchanged looks. Each knew the other was confused, as the obviously exemplar “pretty” had more or less given them a cursory glance then went about her business. Usually there were creeped out, disgusted or pitying looks. The pity was always the worst to take. She also let that fear generated by their aura slip into the sea of negative emotions that were bottled up and contained deep within her, as though pain, fear, frustration and rage had been with her for so long that they had become a part of her as much as those odd, metal, runed eyes. They looked at the Outcasts and got the impression that this was business as usual.

Caitlin's return impressions were much different, and more insightful as they were less based on power that she didn't have and quite a bit of foreknowledge. The two girls wore matching halters and shorts, obviously modified for their unusual frames. They both were slouched with a wary, challenging expression, so she guessed that their self-esteem was in the crapper but they would be nasty to anyone who pushed it in their faces. The bright red ultraviolent armbands on their lower-left arms near the second shoulder told Cait that provoking them would be like poking a bear with a flaming stick. Not conducive to health and long life.

Ultraviolents came in five flavors recognized by the administration, and by mutant experts worldwide, although they were called other things by the psychology majors of the world. There were your 'flip out and attack whatever pissed you off and anyone nearby' types, which Razorback, Phobos and Deimos were. The Whateley designation for them was a bright red armband with a very visible UV printed in black letters. For the ragers and sickos who loved to hurt people, or loved to fight there was a black armband with red letters. The kids who were just dangerous by virtue of the nature of mutation, there was a dark green armband with red letters. The poor schleps that were always just getting sucked into fights wound up with a white band lettered in black. The really dangerous ones, for whom there was a “Thou shalt not provoke” edict, the armband was blue. Shapeshifters screwed up the curve, so guys like Jimmy Trauger always were required to wear a name tag in lieu of the armband.

“So what's got you so cheerful this morning?” Deimos asked Caitlin cautiously. Unlike many of the Ultras, neither Phobos, nor Deimos liked the fact that they could be rapidly overwhelmed by whatever emotions were being felt by the people around them and mirror them, then have them amplified in their own minds. This effect had led to some very embarassing situations as it didn't just work on rage, fear and negative emotions. There had been a few lucky Twain and Melville boys on campus after one of the sisters or the other wound up getting too close to people making out when no one was watching them. Most of the boys involves remembered a very wild, but eerily frightening experience. Fortunately said boys had thus far shown the common sense not to brag about it or comment on the twins' virtue.

Both of the twins wanted Caitlin's dark side to stay bottled up in the background static.

“I started my first job officially today on campus, being Smythe's admin bitch on the ranges, and I managed to recover thirteen missing guns.” Caitlin smirked. “Plus I'm officially on the security auxiliary. So now they aren't going to hassle me when I want to get out and walk around at night. Ugh, I give up.” The nascent Artificer pushed her tray away when all of the food suddenly turned into bluish ice shaped like food.

Jericho looked over, having finished his food and smirked. “You going to eat that?”

“Nope, it's all yours buddy.” Caitlin handed the tray over to Jericho with a sweet smile.

Diamondback had to stifle a smirk as Jericho picked up a piece of food and crunched down on the ice. He yelped and spit the offending cold shards out... onto Razorback.

A loud, and indignant shriek erupted as Razor glared at Jericho and the dreadlocked Devisor sputtered. “Agh! You coulda warned me!”

Caitlin leaned back and smiled at Jericho. “Tunnel incident.”

Jericho started turning a bit red. “Uh. Right. So can we call it even?”

“Ohhhh no, boyo. You'll be paying for that one for months.”

“Are we missing something here?” Diamondback asked, confused.

-Nerd Wonder here decided that playing a bit of a prank on the newbie was a grand idea. So he set up a nitrogen cooler meant to drop the temperature by about forty degrees in the Thorny sub-level where we do our guitar shtick, which you are going to sing for tonight, by the way. Unfortunately, he accidentally cracked one of the cooling lines for the sub-basement and Cait got a liquid nitrogen bath and all her clothes broke and fell off. Then things got REALLY weird. We both had to run like hell because she about exploded, the walls started writhing, fire and lightning went everywhere, and we had a general panic until Circe sent me to the utility sheds for a spare set of clothing for her.- Razorback shot a look at Jericho, who was really trying to look invisible. He loved being the prank king of Twain, but he was invariably mortified when the pranks went too far.

“Put it this way Diamond, I'm almost immune to the cold and when that crap hit me I felt hypothermic.” Caitlin shot Jericho a mock-angry look. “I hadn't gotten like that since I lived in Alaska.”

“Jericho? Remember what I said about pranks backfiring? You're gonna feel this one for years.” Diamondback had a smug expression on her face.

“I know, I know ok? Jeez! I'm sorry! I said it before, I'll say it a thousand more times if I have to!”

“You're lucky no one saw me naked. I'd have really been pissed.” Caitlin said archly.

“See you naked? Yeah right, sorry Cait, I was too busy running for cover, and I heard something screaming and snarling in there and it wasn't you.”

“Trust me, you don't want to know. By the way, bud. I'd avoid the maintenance crew for a bit. They called Stan and Morrie in to clean up the mess, and they weren't able to get their other crewmates in so they had to fix that shit by themselves.” Cait looked a bit smug.

“Oh no. Oh god. No wonder the toilets back up whenever I use them since then.” Jericho shook his head. “I offered to help fix the damage!”

“Doomed.” The intoned word by the twins had the finality of the grave buried within. Then they cracked grins.

“Oh I wish I had a camera!” Diamondback smiled serenely as she cherished the look on Jericho's face. After a second, she abruptly looked at Razorback. “What do you mean I'm singing tonight?”

The arena was packed to the gills with teachers and students. Razorback led the other five through the throng, weaving and ducking the masses until he found what he was looking for. Sue, Lucille, Rhianna and Anna of the Underdogs had somehow managed to tie up six extra seats. Caitlin chuckled as she saw the “Reserved for Ultraviolents” signs on the loose chairs. The four girls weren't even mildly put off by any of the Outcasts, getting up and giving big hugs to the mottled black and yellow-brown velociraptor-thing that was Razorback. Diamondback got similar treatment, and the girls just shook Jericho's hand, which he missed several times trying to “find” playing up the blind man act for all it was worth. Not for the first time Caitlin wondered why he'd told her about his oddball senses allowing him to perceive everything around him when he played up the whole blind man act so much.

Caitlin actually knew Anna and Sue from the ranges. The two of them had been taking pistol courses from Cat before Halloween. She'd wound up picking up the slack for about two weeks before her life had taken a sharp left from reality. Both were actually a fair hand with a nine-millimeter pistol, and she had wished more than once that she had been better with pistolwork so she could teach them better. Wilson had taken over that duty in the interim and he, Bardue and Smythe were all running ragged trying to keep the three gun ranges open, as well as the combat simulators below the main arena complex of Arena 99. From what Caitlin had seen, they were doing it by the skin of their teeth and running the student assistants ragged. She would have volunteered to help program the Arena scenarios, but the likelihood of her accidentally destroying the sensitive equipment was a bit too much to risk.

The first few matches were over already, given the Outcast proclivity towards taking it slow and easy. Besides, they hadn't missed much with Peeper and Greasy giving a running commentary on the fights in progress on WARS, although the comments about the hot bodies in skimpy clothing were annoying.

Caitlin found herself wedged into a seat between Diamondback and Deimos, uncomfortably aware that she felt out of place, and trying not to move too much for fear of hurting one or the other. While she knew that hurting an exemplar was pretty damned hard in the long run, and accidentally transforming them was largely a non-issue, it could still hurt like hell. And if her wards went out she'd have a problem of epic proportions, as Jericho and Razor found out by accident.

“So how's this shit work?” Diamondback asked, leaning towards Razor.

Caitlin pointed to the overhead screens. “That's going to be where detail stuff will display along with MID info. Each of the sim programs is pretty much generic. You remember when Carson said, 'in most cases, students are being paired up at random'? What that meant was that sometimes, it’s not even close to random. And not everyone's going to eat the stupid spindle scenario down there.” Caitlin looked up at the display. “We're actually on fight five. We should see the next one soon.”

“How do you know all this?” Phobos asked.

“My adopted father is programming the scenarios. He told me how it works, and what the rules were gonna be, but didn't give me anything more specific.”

“Fun fun.” Jericho looked around. “So what are the rules this year since we missed the opening announcements?”

Lucille forcibly grinned in the face of the Fury Twins’ fear aura. “You'll love it. It's called the Doomsday Device scenario. See the spindle down there with all the glowy lights on it? That's the objective.” The cute underdog put in the wanted info excitedly, much to Caitlin's seeming relief. “You have to use the keypad and voice software to answer questions to activate the spindle. Takes about 30 seconds to do if you're quick. You succeed you win and your opponent flat loses. The whole thing's rigged so that you can't snake around the win/loss criteria.”

“Oh fun. So what's my motivation here?” Deimos looked at her sideways.

“Well, Combat Finals are thirty percent of your semester grade. And we'll be marked up or down on how well we perform, not on whether we win or not. A passing grade means we get an option for a new class or something. I forget what it was though. Big thing is to throw everything you got because you can win and still get an F on this one.”

“Oh greeeeeeat. Makes me wanna perform there.”

“Hey guys! It’s starting again!” Anna smirked and looked at the display.

The picture displayed was of a Native American with a nervous smile. She was pretty, and had a white streak of hair along the right side of her head in the MID photo. Thankfully, only the arena-bound spectators could see that Photo. She'd found out just why Whateley's infamous Arena 99 had a “Masks required” rule three days ago from A.D. and she was thankful that the viewing public wouldn't be treated to her unmasked face on the Mutant Deathmatch broadcasts that were undoubtedly running on Pay-Per-View. The MID card info read:

A ragged cheer came from the section of the arena where the Poesies seemed to be largely clustered as the MID card went up.

Diamondback started giggling at Heyoka's “techniques.” “Hey if I'd known we could be smartass about it I'd have done something like that for the MID card!”

Caitlin smirked “Yeah well, you'll have to change it when you graduate anyway. They're a lot more forgiving on student types, part of the agreement between Carson and the MCO to keep 'em off Whateley's case.”

“Wonderful. Oh well. Not like I need to worry about that for another four years.”

“So who is it, and who's the opposition?” Jericho asked, genuinely irritated that he couldn't read the screens.

“First one up is Heyoka. Have any of you figured out if he's a boy? I have a real hard time telling.” Sue said mildly,” and they're about to... There it is. Oh god it's Alvin!”

Most of the Underdogs, and all three of the original Outcasts groaned when they saw the lineup. Caitlin, Phobos and Deimos leaned forward to watch, curious.

Heyoka bit her lip slightly and slipped into the crowd like just another normal bystander, albeit with a headscarf mask that covered the top of her head, and had holes for her eyes, mingling and doing everything to not draw attention to herself. She wasn't exactly easy to pick out as she wound her way towards the spindle cautiously. One baseball cap later and even the headscarf was subdued somewhat. The brightly-colored orange windbreaker was just the kind of touristy kitsch that one would expect to see in a crowded street. The pants were generic, not so baggy that it stood out, not so tight that it highlighted the shape of her frame.

She wasn't looking forward to dealing with Alvin Cuthbert, the self-styled Captain Canada!, or Cerebrex officially, who was a supreme annoyance and all around pain in the ass to anyone with even a modicum of something resembling common sense. Alvin's long-winded diatribes on the greatness of Canada were painful, and annoying beyond all reason. He couldn't use Captain Canada! as his codename officially, due to rules laid down about that kind of thing, so he was stuck with the supervillain-esque moniker of Cerebrex.

She grumbled to herself, not wanting to have to deal with the so-called finals which would put her at an inordinate disadvantage against a large chunk of the student body since she couldn’t count on spiritual help for a win. This left her with what she had learned in Survival class, the great joy of joys where you learned important combat techniques such as running like hell, dialing 911 and hiding from dangerous people. The actual class final had been bad enough when Mr. Anderson had brought in a small group of the most terrifying students on campus to play aggressor while his students tried like mad to escape their attention. The great big, mottled, black and orange, spined velociraptor had been her aggressor for the test, which she had passed, barely. She'd wound up playing up the other student's seeming inability to work around basic things like doors and locks, only to find out later that he'd been playing dumb.

She glanced to the sky occasionally and kept an ear out as the spindle came into view. Alvin was already there, in his atrocious red and white costume with a giant red maple leaf emblazoned on the chest. A diamond-shaped shield completed the image of this comic-book rip-off as he began punching in his codes for the spindle to register him as the winner.

A quick look to the left and right revealed what she wanted. A crowded street, lots of people and cars, plenty of cover. A nearby policeman stood, idly watching traffic and she smiled, wandering over to the cop. “Excuse me, officer? That guy over there by the spire thing's acting all wigged out and said something about that device and the power grids around here. Something about an overload.”

Heyoka noted the name tag: Officer Catspaw. Someone had a sick sense of humor.

“Holy shit, Gunny!” Wilson started chortling, “did she just do what I think she did?”

Gunny Bardue looked up from the control console and smiled. “Well that's a first. Give it to her, full response. Let's see how Captain Canada! deals with law enforcement climbing up his ass.”

“I'm on it.” Wilson turned and began inputting commands and speaking to the audio pickups.

Ito smiled mildly and sat back to watch the chaos unfold.

The Kimbas were cheering when Chaka spotted Heyoka slipping through the crowd. They watched as the girl snuck her way to the spindle, and then started talking to the cop. All of a sudden Fey burst out laughing like a maniac when she realized what Heyoka was up to. The laugh was contagious as the girls and Hank rapidly put two and two together, got the appropriate number, and watched the fun begin to unfold while the other students around them snarked about a “boring match.”

Jamie “Heyoka” Carson didn't wait to watch the police officer go do his thing. Instead she went bolting around to the crowded areas of bystanders and began saying things like: “Holy shit, that cop's going after a mutant alone!” and “Someone call the cops! I think that guy at the spire's arming a weapon!” The crowd began turning and people saw the cop, weapon drawn facing the obvious, costumed mutant at the ready.

“Sir, please step away from the terminal.” The cop waited for a moment while Cerebrex in his ridiculous Canadian best continued to plug away at the machine, oblivious to the law officer. “SIR! You in the stupid Canada suit! Turn around now and step away from the terminal, now!”

The stunned look on Whateley's own erstwhile Captain Canada! when he turned to face the cop was priceless. “Officer, is there a problem?”

“I have a report about you acting suspicious here, now step away from the terminal and remain motionless until we get this sorted out.” The cop kept his distance, warily.

“Officer I assure you, there is nothing untoward going on here, I'm merely disarming this machine so my nefarious enemy cannot use it to his whims.”

“God, trust this jackass to be all corny and comic-booky.” Heyoka muttered to herself as she readied her next little 'Surprise' to spice up the show. “Why do I always have to deal with the goofy ones?”

In retrospect it was probably for the best that Alvin was a pretentious little git. It gave her room to maneuver, since the boy was just not that bright. Unfortunately she knew from experience that a brick like himcould pulp her in a fistfight. She looked around at the crowd which was unconsciously moving in to get a better view, and then the whispers began.

Heyoka blended in with the crowd well, appearing as a young girl that was fairly nondescript, a side-effect of her slow recovery from channeling a spirit that had definitely been on the female side. This was a good thing as her normally gender-ambiguous appearance might draw a bit too much attention.

The argument had continued while she got ready and she could clearly hear Captain Canada!, Cerebrex, she corrected herself, pontificating. “Fear not, ladies and gentlemen, I will ensure that my villainous opponent cannot take advantage of this fair city, for I am Captain Ca...”

Cerebrex pointing to the crowd, while striking a heroic pose was too tempting, as she snapped off a couple inches of fuse from the little toy in her hand, and lit it, rolling it out into the open behind Officer Catspaw.

BANG! The gadgeteer flashbang went off right behind the cop, who happened to be pointing his gun at her Canadian patriot opponent. The gun went off and Captain Canada! barely had enough time and warning to bring up his shield a few inches. It was just enough to deflect the bullet into the crowd watching nearby. Screaming began, and the crowd panicked while the cop began screaming into his radio while trying to shoot at the costumed maniac in front of him. The caped loony had used a power on the crowd and then deflected the cop's bullet into bystanders, by all appearances. A man was screaming on the ground, bleeding, and Heyoka's stomach lurched as she realized what would have happened in a real crowd.

Unfortunately Cerebrex was a Package-Deal-Psychic, and had kicked in his TK, using it and his shield to deflect the bullets away from his body. Also unfortunately, he'd had enough time to build up the emotional intensity to use his powers fully as the crowd surged.

Heyoka's distraction at the wounded bystander cost her. She found herself thrown to the ground and scrambling as the throng stampeded, and forced herself to get back into the game. Some went running from Cerebrex, some attacked him, some stood in shock or screaming. In short it was utter chaos. Perfect. Mr. Anderson always said that confusion was a weapon. Use it to your advantage.

She scrambled into a crouch and looked, then dove into a group of people that were oddly running towards the spindle and got in with them, trying desperately to look panicked like the crowd. She glanced over and grinned, noting that Captain Numbskull was desperately trying to defend himself from the crowd while trying to calm them down.

“People, please calm down! I am not your enemy!” He sounded almost desperate as Heyoka did her civic duty and fired a Tazer she'd picked up a few weeks before into the back of this obviously dangerous lunatic. He jerked spasmodically and fell to the ground, as he hadn't been shielding his backside and the crowd surged at him like a wave of enraged dogs. Really all that was missing was the torches and pitchforks.

She reached the spindle and began the process of getting her information plugged in by wiping Cerebrex's answers and plugging in her student number. The mixture of voice-activated answers and typed responses was slow, and painful. She stumbled a few times, when she realized the crowd had parted, or been thrown clear of Mister Psi-brick and she was exposed. Her opponent had also noticed the flashing lights as the spindle ran through the processes of challenging her mind.

“And my nemesis shows her face, finally.” Cerebrex stood proudly as heyoka scanned the area and found her next target for mayhem. “You cannot stand against Captain Canada! protector of the Canadia... Where you think you're going?”

Heyoka was already running like a lunatic for a street crowded with fleeing pedestrians and vehicles when her opponent, foolishly forgetting about the spindle, took to the air to chase her. Fortunately for her, her target was well within reach and clear of bystanders, as the crowd was running away from the flying idiot. Bonus!

She lit another firecracker on the run, one with a long fuse and started counting. At one second she reached the car, at three seconds she had the gas cap off as her erstwhile opponent rushed in at her. At five seconds, the firecracker went down the pipe, having been drawn from the supplies of a gadgeteer who thought standard firecrackers were a waste of money, and the laws hadn't gotten around to banning his particular brand of pyrotechnics. He also had a fondness for coated fuses that kept the burn contained and unnoticed until it was too late, which kept the tank from blowing prematurely. At seven seconds, Cerebrex was flying low, directly at her as she ran like hell.

At nine seconds the firecracker went off, exploding and igniting the fumes in the gas tank, causing pressure to tear the vehicle apart and hit Cerebrex with a blast of heat and a spray of burning gasoline. People screamed, sirens blared, and confusion reigned supreme as she ducked into another crowd, ditching the jacket and hastily rummaging for a purple sweater and long, red wig. Thirty seconds later she was another pedestrian wearing cool weather clothing and some stylish sunglasses, wandering back to the original scene, while Cerebrex, the man with delusions of being a national superhero under the name Captain Canada!, flew overhead, searching for the dark-haired native that had managed to make him look like a complete jackass.

She found the spindle, untouched, and simply walked up and began inputting her final codes while her angered opponent circled. He didn't see her until it was far, far too late. He dove at the flashing thing in time to hear the gong and the announcement: “Victory to Heyoka.”

Heyoka stood, smirked and shucked the wig and glasses. With a wave she yelled “The world is mine!” and bolted for the exit with a maniacal supervillain laugh.

“Dammit, there's another trail of this stuff!” Fey gave a disgusted look at the knotted and twisted lines in the entrance of the arena proper at lunch time. “I really want to find out who's doing this!”

“Oh calm down Nikki, it's not like you don't deal with weird shit like this every day.” Toni smirked as the two walked towards the Crystal hall.

“Magic lines don't just 'twist' Toni. Something screwy has to happen for this to get all snarled!”

“It's Whateley! It's probably normal here! Look around for a few minutes I bet you find about twenty oddball twists in the stuff.”

“I have.” Fey shook her head to clear the cobwebs. “Ever since about mid-November I've been finding this stuff around the school, and it's been getting more tangled and more widespread. And it's all over the place! I mean yeah it goes back to normal after a day or so but the next morning everything's all knotted again!”

“So? Untwist it! You're miss all-powerful Sidhe!”

“I wish. Do you have any idea how bad these knots screw my magic up?” She grumped as she continued. “It's like you when your Chi gets whacked out. I see weird shit and the hobgoblins come in hordes!”

“You? See weird stuff? Oh my gawd! Call the press!” Chaka laughed. “Look I know that it's got you worked up, but if you can't find the source, what's the point griping? Besides! We gotta go talk to Jamie and say congrats! I mean he, she... Nevermind, thumped Captain Numbtard pretty hard and won! We gotta at least go give her the Kudos he deserves.”

“You know, I'll never figure out how you can slide the pronouns around like that.”

“Easy, I reject my English Teacher's reality and substitute my own.”

Fey rolled her eyes. “Ok, miss Mythbuster, you win. Let's go give Jamie her props. I'll mention this to Sir Wallace later, and see what he thinks.”

“Now you're talking! Let's get some food!”

Fey chuckled to herself, as she trailed a bit behind her ever-bouncy roomie, knowing full-well that Chaka was neither dismissing her issue, nor ignoring it. The two just didn't always share the same sets of priorities and Chaka always said she worried more than she needed to. It had been mildly maddening at first, but Chaka never had an air of malice or annoyance at these discussions, unless the ever present Unga-Dunga decided to pop in and add her two cents. Even the old Sidhe queen had given up trying to chide the upbeat martial-artist about her illusory lack of attention-span.

The Crystal Hall wasn't exactly packed, as the combat finals were still raging. The vast majority of the students, excited by the newness of it all, had grabbed their food to go and run straight back to the Arena. As a result, the traditional Kimba table wasn't surrounded by gawkers and other noisy kids stuffing their faces. In fact very few teams were wholly in attendance. The Wild Pack was all there at their table, as were the Alphas, of course. Fey let her nose wrinkle a bit when she saw the Don and Hekate holding lunch buffet court, per usual. She very clearly remembered Sebastiano's subtle attempts to shatter their team with his mental tricks. Unfortunately for him, the arrogant bastard screwed up, and got caught using powers on unwilling students. Word on the street was that he'd pulled toilet detail down in Hawthorne the whole week.

Dredz and Lily were chatting, or arguing over to the side. One could never really tell with those two.

A tap on her shoulder alerted her to the friendly presence behind her. She turned and saw Razorback standing about two feet away. The giant-sized, spined, dinosaur thing towered over her petite frame, looking absolutely ferocious. She knew better, even though it was true enough.

-How are you doing? Melt any more demons this week?-

Nikki grinned. One of the things that she loved about the spiny ultraviolent was his absolute fearlessness when it came to talking to people. -Hey Razor,- she signed in return,-no demons, but Eloise and Ben were asking about you and Jericho. You two made a real impression.-

Razor let out a slight chirp. -Well I'm glad things have settled a bit. Me'n the blind one are gonna be gone over Christmas. Much as we'd love to stick and play border watch, we gotta take care of the families as well. We're taking Diamond and Cait with us. Cait doesn't know yet.-

Nikki aloofly disregarded the always-incredulous stares by nearby students who were shocked that she was so friendly with the Detention King of Whateley Academy. Even though he'd stayed out of trouble for this semester, his record for consecutive detentions during his freshman year was still unrivalled on-campus. She noted that he didn't even spare a glance for the gawkers.

-I understand fully. I have to spend some time with Mom and Dad too. I'm just not for sure what the plans are. But for now, the weres know what they've got to do. They'll survive well enough without you two for a bit.-

Razor nodded, bobbing his head up and down, rather like a bird. -Me'n Jericho are going to go talk to Ben and Eloise one more time before we shuttle our asses to OZ. We have to take the Overwatch prisoner transport plane, since I can't fly regular and Cait might blow up the plane by accident.-

-Cait?- The word was unfamiliar, but she recognized it as one of the special shorthand signs he used for names. -New friend?-

-Yeah, you'll see her around. She's kinda hard to miss. Dunno if I’d bring her in on the weres thing though. I got protection somehow, and Jericho's blind, so the weirdness doesn't hit him so bad. I don't want to put her or Diamond at risk of what happened to those poor State Trooper bastards. Dunno if they can take it, mentally.-

Nikki nodded. -Probably for the best. We've already got enough necks on the line. And you and Jericho have more than done what we would have asked. Thanks.-

-No problem, but for now... FOOD!- Without waiting for a response, Razorback darted off to the chow line and began gleefully piled the meat on the tray.

Nikki chuckled to herself as she watched the unlikely friend she'd found fighting two of the “Voodoo-Weres,” as Jericho called them in the Grove. That particular slice of nightmare had been dicey, but he'd made an impression on both her and Ben, which was saying something.

She tracked him back to his table and saw Jericho, of course, and Diamondback. The Fury twins were mildly surprising to see, as well as the small group of Underdogs. She chuckled and turned to join her friends after seeing Jericho saying something, and watching a tall girl with long, metallic black hair start banging her head on the table like she was trying to hammer out something bad. Knowing Jericho, it was.

She turned back to her friends, the Kimbas, Sara's “pack” and an odd one or two others who were busy congratulating Poe's first glorious victor. She reached the table in time to hear Heyoka griping. “So because I decided to make a joke after I won, and stood in the open Mr. Anderson graded my final at a B-, and even then, only because Cerebrex's hero complex probably would have resulted in him not killing me if he caught me!”

“Bad, bad, bad, BAD!” Caitlin punctuated each word by thumping her head on the table. “That's it. No more drugs for that man!” She pointed at the offending white-eyed, dreadlocked black boy across from Razorback.

Jericho grinned. “Whaaaat! It's not like I pulled out the full Pun arsenal.”

Phobos and Deimos looked pained, and the Underdogs were groaning in mock-agony. Diamondback seemed completely unaffected.

“What?” the snake-girl pretended to be oblivious. “You all knew when you started hanging out with Joe that he'd suck all the Pun out of your lives.”

That set off a new round of groans as Jericho and Diamond exchanged a high-five. When the two childhood friends decided to be in cahoots, the results were painful to observe.

At this table, once they got used to Caitlin, the near-total use of Codenames had evaporated like the wind as the Outcasts opened ranks to allow a new friend in.

Caitlin looked up and grinned as Razorback plopped into his accustomed spot next to her, and he eyed her suspiciously. -The sparky thing is looking at me again!- He hovered protectively over his tray, as he'd found out that Cait was an accomplished and skilled food-thief over the past two weeks.

“Hey Jack. Nice ham slices there.” The metal-eyed girl gave him a grin that was purely evil as she used his real name.

-Back off, Sparky. These are MY ham slices!-

Jericho and Diamondback, AKA Joe Turner and Sandra Carter, sat back and grinned as they watched the spectacle unfold. Everyone knew that alone among all of the gathered bodies, Caitlin was the only one who couldn't even do the very basics of signing well. She was learning the basics, slowly, but she could only understand one word in five, such as and, the, or and taquito. Everyone was mystified by her taquito obsession until she'd pulled a Gir during lunch during one of the impromptu food wars.

“What? Help myself you say? Ok!” Her hand darted forward and Razor snapped at it, trying to defend his prize from the evil food-thief when he missed Diamond swiping a piece of chicken from him. The shriek of protest was half-hearted and only made everyone grin.

Phobos and Deimos were smiling despite themselves, having decided that the 'pretty' was going to have to prove herself before they trusted her. Even so, her complete lack of... anything regarding their odd appearances had shaken them up quite a bit, and it's hard to pull a fast one on an empath.

Lucille caught on first and snatched one of Diamond's hard-boiled eggs. “Razor, catch!”

The egg vanished into the lizardlike maw, and Caitlin used the distraction to swipe the prized slices of ham. A pregnant pause ensued when Jack Carlyle realized that the metal-haired girl was gnawing on his ham slice!

-Of course you realize, this means WAR!-

The chaos erupted, and rapidly devolved as even the Underdogs and Jericho were sucked into the burgeoning war for food-territory, all while trying to devour what's on the plate so the enemy could not take advantage of it. Phobos and Deimos turned out to be enthusiastic players with a grossly unfair advantage in their extra arms. They could assault and defend at the same time! The random chaos caused by Caitlin's aura made it all the more amusing!

When all as said and done, the whole table had devolved into laughing, and even the two twins seemed to have relaxed. The two of them and Diamond also relished the temporary reprieve from Caitlin's darker side as the unpleasant emotional background static in her faded in the face of simple fun.

Caitlin looked up at the clock, and sighed. “Hey guys, I got to get going. I have an appointment with Carson and Hartford.”

Jericho promptly whipped out a kazoo and began playing the funeral march as she stood. “Gee, thanks for the vote of no-confidence, Joe.”

“Anytime Cait. Anytime.”

“Ass.” She looked to the rest. “All right folks, see you all at the arena in an hour or two.”

Surprisingly, even Adrienne and Janine, the girls with all the 'extras,' actually smiled and waved as Caitlin wandered off, hissing and sparking like a dynamo.

-Hey Jericho, we need to go see Eloise and Ben before we get outta here.-

Jericho nodded as the rest of the table looked on, mildly confused. “We'll do it tonight instead of hitting the guitars.” Diamondback pumped a fist happily as that meant she was off the hook for singing that night.

Everyone else sat thunderstruck when Razor nodded in agreement. Those two never missed a chance to practice their music.

Caitlin wandered into Shuster Hall, looking around. For a school admin building there was surprisingly little activity, probably related to the fracas in the Arena. It was the same every semester. Fortunately her target never changed her routine, even during the Combat Finals.

The package Sam had given her that morning had been from Hartford, complete with new I.D.’s and new documentation confirming all of her old certifications and licenses that would allow her to continue as the official Range Oversight Manager, instead of as the Heavy Weapons Instructor. That had been the final piece confirming that Amelia Hartford knew what had happened, or at least where Whateley's erstwhile heavy instructor was at if not the full details. The cagy old bitch never missed a trick when it came to the staff.

The personal note, however, had been a complete surprise. Like most instructors on-campus, Erik Mahren had always referred to her as Hartass when students weren't in earshot. Hell, he'd even had more reason to than most, but that damned letter made the visit a necessity for Caitlin.

Mindful of her own strength, she stopped just away from Hartford's desk and knocked on the wall, to get the woman's attention. Hartford looked up at her, and her eyes narrowed, slightly as they always did when confronted by a student she didn't know or like. Then recognition set in.

“I got your package. I came to say thanks.” Caitlin's attitude towards Hartford had softened somewhat from the borderline rage she'd been carrying for the woman for the past two weeks after she'd read the note.

Hartford nodded and looked around before standing up. “Walk with me.” The simple command held all of the imperious superiority of the Alphas, or at least the Alphas Caitlin had come to know and loathe over the last three or so years, but she followed without comment. The area was invariably bugged to shit by any number of students, and it wouldn't do to give the listeners, or the recorders, the wrong ideas.

The conference room was never used for anything important that the students were aware of, an illusion carefully fostered by the administration to discourage listeners. After all, every student knew that all of the really interesting stuff happened at Hartford's desk, or in Carson's office. Without a word, both did a sweep of the room, just in case, before they settled in to talk.

“Thanks for the note,” Caitlin began shakily. Some things were just hard to say. “I didn't know that Cat's family had come up to get her belongings early. I'm sorry I thought you were trying to screw with me on the memorial service.”

Hardford's severe demeanor softened a bit, not much, though for once her voice didn't carry the oh-I'm-so-superior attitude. “She was my friend. Just because I didn't approve of her relationship with you didn't mean I was willing to use her death as a way to hurt you.”

“Yeah, I know. I haven't exactly been rational about things over the past month.”

“Anyone who expected you to be rational would be in for a rude shock, but of late it's understandable.” She settled back and looked around. “And regardless of my personal opinions, you did hold that range together better than that slacker Jimenez ever did. Six years, and the only incidents were student fights, one attempted break-in that you thwarted and were injured during, and two fatal burnouts, none of which can be laid at your feet.”

“Yeah, well, doesn't mean you deserved the badmouthing for it. For that I'm sorry, but only for the last month of it.” Caitlin smirked.

“And people wondered why I said you were a complete dog.” Hartford held up a pen, from the desk, seemingly examining it for flaws. “We may have had our differences, and our arguments, but we kept things more or less civil for Cat's benefit. I'd like to keep it that way in her memory, not taint it with a feud with you over something that you should have been able to attend by all rights. I was trying to hold off until Smythe thought you'd be able to take it better, but her parents coming to collect their baby girl's effects and your unexpected burnout pushed my hand.”

Caitlin nodded. “I found Cat's pistol, the one she got when she left the LAPD, the one that went missing. Turns out Trout claimed it on the sly. I got it back to the cage.”

“Ah, good.” Hartford actually smiled. Upon reflection, Cait thought that she should do it more often. “I do believe Trout should be discouraged from this sort of thing in the future. I believe I will have to speak to Chief Delarose about certain security issues that only Third Platoon is properly equipped to handle.”

Caitlin almost winced as she realized that certain statements from Hartford's mouth carried the finality of a Death Warrant for the recipient. That was one of those statements. “Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.” Lieutenant Trout had long been on Caitlin's shitlist, and if Hartford wanted to play with the bastard, well who was she to deny the older woman her simple fun?

Hartford looked at Caitlin. “I pulled together as complete an I.D. as I could for you, given the parameters Gunny Bardue and Headmistress Carson laid out. Sorry, but your previous grades in school leave much to be desired.”

“Sounds about right. My teachers always were saying I never applied myself.”

“And so far as this goes, when you leave this room, you are a student. From that moment forward, there will be no talks, no explanations, and no playing nice. You will be treated just as any other child here would be. I know it will be a bitter pill, but if you are going to succeed at this charade you will have to accept it. For the record I do not want to know the details of why this charade is necessary. And as soon as you walk out those doors I will pretend that Erik Mahren had a GSD blowout so severe that he was sent to ARC Black for permanent containment due to concerns for the safety of everyone around him.”

Caitlin nodded slowly, not interrupting. She knew what would be said, but knew that it had to be said.

“You, are a sixteen year old girl who was held back in first grade due to learning problems and flunked her freshman year in High School. As a result, you are not on my radar. The Alphas will not become aware of your new status, and I am going to try very hard to forget that this happened. So you, like every other wise student, are going to be very dilligent about keeping your secrets from me.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me until this whole nightmare is fully over. Just do me a favor, and keep an eye out. The whole Halloween thing, combined with a few... other incidents absolutely reek of something foul, and I doubt it's fully played out yet. For now, as of tonight, by the time Combat Finals are finished you are to move into the Mage Suite in Hawthorne. Not my decision, as I would have left you where you are, but Carson wants you somewhere you will have Louis' eyes on you.”

Caitlin nodded again. “I will. I may not be a teacher anymore, but no one fucks with this school on my watch. And I figured I'd be inside the Thorny Den sooner or later.”

“Good, now get out of here. I have work to do.”

Caitlin nodded and walked to the door and stopped when Hartford addressed her one last time.

“And Caitlin. I think Cat would have approved of your choice of name.”

Caitlin smiled sadly in thanks and left.

“Oh my god, that was the perfect end to a crazy day!” Jericho watched through his laptop's wireless connection as Nephandus was dragged out of the arena, whimpering. He'd tapped his computer into the Arena wireless and watched the fight through the cameras surrounding the action. A thin cord ran from the laptop to the back of his skull, allowing him to interface with the machine.

Caitlin walked up to the group and looked at Jericho. “What's he chortling about?”

Phobos looked over and smirked. “One of the Kimbazoids went three-on-one in a fight with earthquakes and a tornado! Oh wow, you totally missed it!”

Diamondback smirked. “You know, the Poesies may be a buncha useless fluff, but at least that Chaka girl knows how to fight! I give her a nine-point-nine.” She was unaware of Jericho and Razorback exchanging an odd look at that statement.

“So what happened?” Caitlin was actually curious.

“Sorry Cait, you really had to have been there. It can't be explained. I mean, wow!” Deimos was impressed, and that usually took some doing.

“Oh come on! I been stuck moving all my shit to Hawthorne and you guys won't even tell me what happened?” Caitlin mock-pouted. “That's cold.”

Jericho smirked and stood up. Razorback joined him. “Okay, ladies, me'n Barney here,” The blind boy accepted the reflexive backhand with good humor, “have an appointment to keep. We'll talk to you all later.”

The two boys moved quickly back to Twain, leaving Caitlin to beg for the details of Chaka's battle-royale. Once they arrived they were all business. They needed to go talk to the weres, and to get there and possibly be back with anything resembling swiftness they were going to have to go through the Grove. Jericho hated the place, as he felt out of sorts and unwelcome for the most part. That had been slowly changing, but the place was still unnerving.

It wasn't the Grove that prompted Jericho to load the shock-rifle and set it to maximum output and set his Personal Protective Field. Nor was it the reason he loaded a backpack with a laptop and a set of medical scanners, as well as a full EMT kit. It wasn't the reason he loaded up every trick and cheap nasty he had ever built for dropping bricks, or was setting up the emergency freight teleporter in the Devisor shop to his Simulator attack-bots and his newly-completed Rafe armor. He strapped an armband with what looked like five epi-pens in sleeves, the kind used for bee-stings among the allergic, and tightened it down so it wouldn't come loose.

Razorback's load wasn't nearly so heavy. His sim armor wasn't perfect, but it was a lot better than just running with his scales as protection. His armored hide was fully capable of withstanding most kinds of physical punishment. That being said, the black, laminated metal plates with the blood-red, runic script worked better, and the helmet was form-fitting with some protection for the eyes. Re-growing those was a bitch, and it hurt like hell. The last thing that Razorback strapped to himself was a professional cricket bat. Jericho knew better than to ask what that thing's purpose was.

The boys slipped out of the dorms at dusk, and went off-campus, heading to the Grove, that nasty little slice of beautiful woodland that was severely off-limits. Razor's path in was vastly different from the one Fey usually led them through, and far less inviting. Fortunately the crazy lizard-kid knew where he was going. The trip was uneventful, and Razorback and Jericho entered the slice of landscape Jericho had cheerfully dubbed “Weretown” about an hour and a half after they left the school. Creepy as it was, to Jericho, the Grove made for a handy shortcut.

The sentries the weres inevitably kept out were in attendance, though none moved to intercept the boys. Jericho could see the wolfen and feline forms in the trees, light and camouflage useless against his texture-based senses. Razorback could smell each one, hear them breathing, and feel their heartbeats. Surrounded and seemingly alone the two boys walked into the den of the monsters that normal folks feared. This suited them fine, in their own special way; the normal people often considered them monsters.

Eloise was there, waiting when they got to the meeting area that had been set up in the interim. Ben stood off to the side and grinned wide as Razorback signed his greeting to the huge man.

“Off the beaten track, boys?” Eloise's grin was unconsciously predatory, and she moved with the ferine grace of a hunting cat.

“Oh you know us, just out for a walk, communing with nature, thumbing my nose at the Grove because we felt like a walkabout while armed to the teeth.” Jericho's return smile was less than predatory, but full of honest, fun-loving wiseass.

“Well in any case, welcome back.” Eloise walked up and clasped each boy's, young men she corrected herself mentally, hand. “So what honestly brings the two of you out here?”

Jericho slid the rifle he'd been carrying onto his shoulder after setting it on safe, a welcome loss of strain on his arms and shrugged. “We popped out because we probably aren't going to get a chance to say bye for the holidays. The 'rents are dragging us all to Oz for the holiday season, so we won't be around again 'till January.”

Eloise snorted. “Ah. Well, that'll be good for you two. Give you a chance to stay out of trouble for two weeks.”

Razorback wandered over to Ben and began signing at the man, who smiled, clasped hands with him and then the two began a silent conversation slightly away.

“Yeah, fat chance of that. We have this knack for either causing, or finding it.”

“That you do. By the way, we do appreciate you volunteering to help us. You've both already done more than we expected, or would have asked.”

Jericho smirked. “Hey, thank Razor. If it weren't for that great scaly numbskull I'd still be bored off my ass in Twain.”

Jericho dodged the flying branch and semi-outraged shriek at the numbskull comment.

“Don't mind him, it's that time of the minute.”

Eloise chuckled and shook her head. “You two are classic, you know that?”

“Yeah, we are. Like a Delorean, really cool until you realize it's a Delorean.”

“Well, you're the second set of guests to arrive today, and we're cooking dinner. Care to join us?”

Razorback's enthusiastic shriek was immediate and Jericho grinned. “Say no to free food? Perish the thought! However... I do request that the burgers be well done this time. I prefer my food to be docile and edible, not trying to attack me in order to flee.”

“All right, smartass, let's head to the house.”

-Wimp.- Razor signed at him.

Jericho's response was simple and elegant, saluting his roomie with a single finger.

She stalked back into the Hawthorne common room, chewing on her lip and trying to puzzle out how to keep occupied and her mind off the problems in her life when she felt a familiar presence behind her. He always did have the courtesy to warn her when he popped up, even though she hadn't really talked to him since a week after Cat had died. She turned to face the pleasant-seeming man behind her, knowing better than to believe the Illusion he presented.

“Hey there Louis, trouble sleeping?” She gave a genuine smile at seeing her friend standing there in his astral form.

Fubar grinned. “I'm surprised any of the psychics on campus are getting any sleep with you stalking around in the mood you've been in for the past couple weeks there Erik, or I guess it's Caitlin now, isn't it?”

“Been a lot to adjust to.”

“I can understand that, although I doubt pacing back and forth across campus is going to improve your mood much.”

Caitlin smirked a bit. “You got any better suggestions?”

“Well there are always those chess games we used to play during downtime between classes.”

“You're on. I'll be down in a minute.”

Caitlin wandered up to her room, thankful for the sort reprieve from the hissing and snapping corona of energy when she breached the wards in her room and hunted around amidst all her loose stuff, hunting for the chessboard. She found it and began hiking down to the basement, where Fubar's pool lay sequestered from the rest of Hawthorne.

Fubar was below the water, as always, and she dodged the occasional ball of snot that he was prone to hocking up. She hit the stairs and went down into the viewing room and took a moment to reflect on the fact that all in all she got off easy. Fubar was probably the most fucked up guy in the world, but he still managed to put on a cheerful face for everyone around him. She wished she could keep the same upbeat attitude that he did.

“That takes years of practice you know. Took me a while to get to the point where I could cope with this sanely.” Fubar was the only psychic in the world she gave any leeway with her thoughts, and he returned the favor by being her counselor in the past. He was the reason she and Cat McQuiston had been together. Fubar had helped Erik knuckle down and get the courage to ask the fiery little instructor out the first time.

“I know. It just makes me feel like a shithead wandering around feeling sorry for myself knowing how easy I got off by comparison to some folks.” Caitlin grimaced.

“Everyone's got their issues, and you seem to have gotten hit with the hammer several times in quick succession. It's normal, besides, all this happened too soon after Halloween and Cat.”

Caitlin frowned a bit. “Yeah. Here soon I need to say my good byes.”

“Wait till you're ready for that.”

Caitlin pulled out a folding table and a chair, setting up the chessboard and butting the table against the viewing glass as she had done so many times in the past. She sat down and faced off while Fubar's massive form coasted closer, eyes looking out. He really did look like Cthulu's illegitimate love-child. “Cthulu plushie” was the name she used when she wanted to really rib him. He never bothered using his astral body for her comfort while they played. She wasn't bothered by his form anymore, having driven herself hard to get over her prejudices during her first year at Whateley. All in all it had helped her be a better teacher.

“So what are you planning to do once you get through this hurdle you're trying not to think about?” The voice settled soothingly in her mind.

“Going to continue going to classes. I've got to relearn how to interact with everyone and get some power control, and on top of that, learn how to be a girl.” Caitlin smirked as she made the first move. “Stupidly enough it's the whole being a girl thing that's been causing me the least of my troubles, although sitting to pee is getting annoying.”

Fubar chuckled. “Been pulling your usual trick of just ignoring the problem and getting used to the idea instead?”

“Lord give me the strength to change the things I can, the patience to accept the things I can't and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“Or in your case, if I can't fix it, fuck it?”

“More or less. Why stress over shit you can't change? Fix what you can and learn to live with the rest, or improvise.” Caitlin wished it didn't feel like empty bravado when she said that.

Fubar and Caitlin had shifted turns in chess several times during the conversation. She wasn't really paying attention to the game so much as talking to Fubar, which somewhat compensated for his telepathic talent he couldn't fully shut off. He was smarter than she was, but he couldn't read her plans for the game.

“Well, Caitlin, if it makes you feel better your mind really hasn't changed any. For better or worse either way, you're still the stubborn, smarter-than-average repressed Jarhead grunt you always were.”

“Small favors bud.” She looked him in his eerily human eyes, past the facial tentacles. “But I kind of wish I'd gotten the Exemplar intelligence boost. Might have made my life easier in some ways.”

“Maybe. But you never know. Maybe you have other compensations that are just as good.”

Caitlin grimaced as she moved her bishop on a direct path to block Fubar's queen. “Yeah, if I ever get the binding tattoos to work.”

Fubar's queen took the Bishop and Caitlin looked at the board. She was toast in three turns. Oh well.

“You don't sound too hopeful on that score.”

Caitlin frowned. “I still have to figure out the last piece and even then if I do it myself, I might still wind up a mindless, drooling zombie.”

“You willing to take that risk?”

“Damned right I am. I can't even touch my friends without risking them dying. Hell I touch myself and it feels like someone flayed one of my nerves and is rubbing a salt lick on it.” Caitlin moved a rook, not really paying attention to what she'd done.

“There's a pleasant image.”

Fubar caught Caitlin in check-mate and the two reset the board, his pieces sliding back into their places without being touched, eerily. She turned the board and her friend slid a pawn forward.

“Just a heads-up Erik. You're not exactly the same. Everything's different about you and I don't mean your gender bender.”

“I already figured that out Foob. Hell I bleed some kind of red steel and every time I see it my instincts tell me I should be doing something with it.”

“Fun. But you're going to be a hard one for people to handle. Your personality alone makes it difficult for anyone to keep you under any semblance of control. Add to that you just about reek of some kind of power, and you're probably in for an interesting time.”

“Great, having a Chinese moment there Foob?”

“Maybe. Although I think if your life wasn't interesting or nightmarishly difficult in some way you'd waste away and die.” His mental contact held an edge of humor to it.

“A fact only made worse by the fact that I have a metric crapton of memories involving being a slave to other people and things I can't really describe as people.” Caitlin and Fubar began a fast-paced game of chess where each took perhaps a second before seemingly randomly moving their pieces. Caitlin was, but Fubar wasn't.

“I can feel the bare edges of that. I'm not sure I want to have to feel those fully. It's unpleasant to say the least.”

“Heh. Should feel it from this side.” Caitlin stuck her tongue out at him.

“Thank you, but no. I pride myself in not being as crazy as you when you're feeling normal.”

“It's good to talk to you again Louis. I hadn't realized how much I missed just being able to talk to someone.”

“It's good to talk to you too again, finally. But if I may? I'd really suggest that you start learning to shield on top of that weird land mine defense you figured out for dealing with psychics. Some of the things you have floating close to the surface could really damage someone.”

“Wouldn't want a kid to learn the consequences of doing things they aught not to, eh Louis?”

Caitlin grinned and began playing in earnest, burning the time away with her friend until she felt the combined might of Louis' fatigue and hunger just before the arrival of his last meal for the day. She said good-bye, trying to be upbeat for his benefit and scampered up to the showers to get herself cleaned up for the evening

Du Meng Kuang, AKA “Breaker” to the rest of the student body, walked up to Poe about two hours before lights out. He idly nodded to Hippolyta, who glowered at him fiercely as he walked up to the door of the cottage, bedecked in his usual attire of digital camouflage and combat boots. The Chinese-American exemplar rolled his eyes as Whateley's biggest bull-dyke man-hater moved to intercept him before he could go in.

“Evening, Hippolyta.” He watched her warily. The last thing he wanted was a fight on the doorsteps of another cottage, so he kept his tone light and friendly.

“What do you want?” Hippolyta's tone was rough and hostile, as could be expected towards any non-Poe student with a Y-chromosome.

“I'm here to talk to one of the Kimbas, not invade. So if you would be so kind I'd like to ask Mrs. Horton's permission to borrow them for about an hour.”

“Which one?”

“While it's not any of your business, I'm looking for Lancer.” Breaker gave Hippolyta a steady look. He knew better than to let her intimidate him. He'd been a Sophomore when she was a frosh, and he was well aware of Hippy's propensity towards bullying the male gender.

“And if I don't let you in?”

Breaker grinned. “If you don't let me in, then tomorrow I'll come back again. Only this time I'll bring Sergeant-Major Smythe and Bomber. You do remember Bomber don't you?”

Hippolyta gave him a foul expression and stood aside. “If you cause any trouble...”

“Hippolyta if I cause any trouble it'll be by accident. Or in self defense, either way. I'm expecting this meeting to go peacefully, or should I have brought my field kit?”

Hippolyta just growled as Breaker stepped into the cottage and made a beeline straight for the house mother's den. She didn't quite let him out of her sight the entire time he was there, at least keeping the cocky male in earshot the entire time. Normally she'd have just sent someone like him packing save for two things. First, he was a senior, and there was a certain amount of deference to the senior class expected in the school. Second, screwing with a Grunt without provocation was a good way to have his entire team out gunning for a piece of you.

Breaker walked up to the door and knocked firmly, but gently. The wooden door wasn't up to the kind of strength output he was capable of. After a moment, Mrs. Horton opened the door and smiled.

“Breaker! I haven't seen you here since Cass graduated!” She honestly welcomed the Chinese exemplar's presence. He always avoided causing trouble with her students, mindful of the mental issues other people had.

“Hello Mrs. Horton.” He smiled, “I'm just here to get permission to talk to, and maybe borrow one of your Kimba kids.”

“They haven't caused more trouble have they?”

“Not unless you count Lancer catching my eye as a possible recruit.”

“Yep. Trouble. Just do me a favor, no trying to coerce the boy into the service.”

Breaker nodded. “Not a problem, ma'am. I ain't the Marine recruiter, and that's his job. I'm more or less fishing to see if Lancer's got what it takes mentally for the team. Been keeping an eye on him, and he seems to be the solid type.”

“Solid would be a good description of the boy. Although I doubt he'll want to leave the girls.”

Breaker let a loopy grin widen across his face. “If he did want to leave that pack of exemplar hotties I'd be worried about his mental state.” Even though he'd spent time in Poe with Cass, his girlfriend who lived there during her stay at Whateley, he was blissfully unaware of the state of affairs in the cottage. It was willful ignorance at its finest. He didn't want to see Poe for what it really was, so he didn't.

“Very well. You may have Lancer so long as he is returned by curfew.”

“Yes ma'am. I'll make sure he's back in time.”

“Then go do your thing. Last I saw he was in the common-room with the girls.”

Breaker nodded and wandered over to the Poe common-room, and stood in the doorway, watching the kids in there. He noted that an entire corner of the common-room was marked by a spider-web of hammocks, ropes and other things with the notorious Team Kimba all in attendance. Hank was leaning against the wall, deep in thought while the girls were looking annoyed about something. Sometimes silence is the best thing to gauge the opposition, although in this case he wanted to make sure he didn't accidentally antagonize a bunch of froshes by accident. He considered himself better than that.

“It's not like we started it.” Fey said irritably. “Whatever they're up to, it's not good and they've already tried to kill me twice.”

“It's not like we're optionless here, Nikki.” Hank considered carefully. “These Voodoo-wolf things aren't exactly students and they seem dangerous as hell, so we might actually be able to get Stormwolf and the Wild Pack to help out too.”

Chaka rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, then we have to deal with Mister Sanctimonious watching us to make sure we toe the line. He isn’t going to like how Fey and Sara do business. God only knows if he sees how Jericho and Razorback fight he's likely to have a coronary, and Bunker and Mule, while they are bloody good at what they do, aren't enough backup against these things.”

So... This was actually what had been occupying the moments when Bunker and Mule seemingly drifted into oblivion every few days. He'd almost been hoping that Bunker's wild stories had been the product of an over-active imagination. Breaker's eyes narrowed a bit as he waited, but no more information was forthcoming, as the elfin redhead named Fey was staring at him rather harshly. The other Kimbas eyes followed, and Breaker found himself under scrutiny more quickly than he would have liked. Girl must be an empath or something.

He walked forward easily. “So, you lot are why my two junior Grunts keep disappearing every couple days to run 'land navigation practice' huh? And someone's tried to kill you twice.” He nodded to Fey. “Care to share what's on your minds?”

“Not really. It's kind of a family thing.” Chaka looked in askance at Fey's response but the redhead shrugged.

“Oh, in this case I'm afraid I must insist.” Breaker looked to each of the Kimbas in turn. “But for now, I'll let you get back to it. I just came to borrow Lancer tonight if he is willing. I would appreciate it if one of you explained later why Bunker and Mule go hopping off into the woods every couple nights, and occasionally come back bloody I would much appreciate it. I'd rather not have to interrogate them.”

Hank stepped forward. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

“Nothing bad, I just want to talk. I've been watching you for a couple months now and would like to speak to you to get to know you a bit better. I probably won't keep you out too long as this...” His eyes scanned the Kimbas, “Seems to have some level of urgency.”

Hank nodded. “Ok, where do you want to talk?”

“Range Four is usually private enough at this hour. So let's take a walk.”

Hank shrugged apologetically to the girls and wandered outside. Breaker turned to the girls. “Oh, ladies? If no one comes forward with what the hell is going on in the next two nights to either myself, or Deadeye, I'm afraid you will no longer be able to count on Bunker and Mule being able to get away to assist you. From your tone, whatever you're doing sounds dangerous and I will not have you putting my teammates at risk without the rest of us knowing what they're getting into.” He looked at each stunned and mildly angered expression, and then added, “Oh and by the way, Chaka? Nice going in the Combat Finals this afternoon. Three on one in a crash scenario? Giving you a B was robbery.”

He turned and left as all of the Kimbas' eyes widened at the young man's blunt, up-front ultimatum, and by the time anyone thought to argue he was gone.

“You know, that little ultimatum's just going to piss them off.” Hank said mildly as they left the cottage.

“I'm aware. Just as I'm aware of what is going on with the weres that Whateley's leasing the property from, as well as those 'Voodoo-wolf' things.”

Hank started. “Mule told you about it?”

“No, Bunker did. She was fishing for information and wanting to know how to get authorized to have more rocket ammunition released to her for 'extracurricular target practice.' And Mule's got one of Jericho's biometric scanner gadgets bolted to his 240 that has some very specialized filters in it. She told me and Deadeye what was up and we've been waiting for you to get up off your asses and ask the rest of us to help. Hell, Bomber's practically rabid over the thought of some hard kills that he's not going to get arrested for.”

“So why the asshole act?”

“The hardest thing for someone to do is to ask for help. Usually they sit and chew on the problem for an eternity until it's almost too late to go back. While myself and Deadeye are interested in helping out with this nasty shit, neither of us are interested in subordinating our team to a pack of froshes. We're also not interested in trying to take over a conflict involving said froshes whose tactics wouldn't mesh well with ours, or a were community that's notorious for having an independent streak a mile wide. Besides, if we keep the weres intact, Whateley prospers onward, without a major upheaval on the land rights issue.”

“So if you want to help, why not come out and say it?”

“First step is for you lot to pull your heads out of your butts and realize not all of the teams fall under the classic hero/villain stereotype. If you do a bit of digging there are at least three teams who would be willing to help you skin some demon-wolves, no questions asked, and be brutal and destructive enough to make it stick. You're not going to want to necessarily look at just 'the good guys' here, Declan. You need to start looking at options you haven't considered. But for now, that's enough proselytizing out of me.”

“So if you're not here to talk about the wolves, what are you here for?”

Breaker smiled as they continued wandering out into the woods, into the main cannon range area. The sound of a screaming, high-velocity machinegun sounded off through the trees. “Back in September, me and Deadeye got emails from one Colonel Roger Declan, asking us to keep an eye out for his son, give him a spot and see how he does.”

“Dad asked you all to yank me into the Grunts?”

“Yeah, he did. But that isn’t how we do business. Just like the military we're all-volunteer. You either come to us as Bunker did this year, or we watch and see who might have what it takes before approaching them. Your dad asked us to grab you, so while I have a lot of respect for Army Colonels in general, I decided to watch and see how you did rather than drag you in screaming, thinking that you had to do it to make Dad happy and possibly embarrass the shit out of yourself in the process.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“It's a compliment, Lancer. If I thought for a minute that you couldn't hack the job we wouldn't be having this conversation. So far among your team, you've shown the highest aptitude tactically, as well as a knack for not being a whirling dervish of chaos once you get rolling. We don't look for power and pretty like the Alphas; we look for skill, ability, talent and a style that will actually mesh with a team that relies on coordination and tactics over raw brute force. Hell, I'll be honest, even kids like the Outcasts I'd pick over most of the pretty ones here at the school. They may be a pack of sneaky, underhanded and violent bastards, but they're not hamstrung by their own delusions of grandeur.”

“Ok. I can buy that, but I already have a team. I can't just leave them in the lurch.”

“Don't worry about that. There's already a precedent for that kind of thing. Hell, Slapdash ran with the A-Team you know, the pack of hokey armchair military tacticians, for most of the year last year while he was running with us. We just ask that if you do run with us, you keep our team's secrets and weak points in the team. Besides, try to split you up from the hottie brigade? We're not remotely THAT stupid.”

Hank nodded. “I'll consider it, but it'd be the same with the Kimbas too. I'm not diming out my friends to another team, even if I'm on that team.”

Breaker smiled as they entered the heavy weapons range. The other five Grunts stood at attention in full combat gear, and sporting a mix of light and heavy weaponry. Slapdash's power harness was distinctive, being about seven feet tall, and sporting a 20-mm, tri-barrelled autocannon, and what looked like a multipack rocket launcher on the other arm hard point.

“Well, Declan, I'm glad you feel that way, because nobody likes a buddy-fucker, even when they're the ones benefitting from the fucking. Now for your enjoyment, we'll show you what we can do. So, I have one last question for you before we begin. Are any of the Kimba girls single?”

Dinner was short, and Razorback was fed again and happy, the small group of mutants and weres wandered through the woods near the Weretown community. Jericho was keeping an eye on things while Eloise and Ben talked to Sara Waite, who'd come along looking to talk to Eloise about the Voodoo-wolves. Carl, Sara's errant werewolf “mate,” whom was annoying, obnoxious and a general pain in the ass was tagging along ostensibly to provide “security.” This was his word for harassing Razorback to the point where the lizard-kid was stalking in a foul mood, growling unconsciously, with the red nictitating membranes half-slid across his eyes. The rigidly erect spines on his body gave testament to the fact that he was seriously debating injuring Carl, possibly eating him, if the posture and sign language were any indication.

“Relax Razor, come over here for a minute while Sara and the weres talk. We'll do a bit of recon for a few.” Jericho said mildly. Normally Razorback would blow off the kind of mockery and taunting Carl was laying on pretty thick, but he was verging on a full-out frenzy. Not a good thing.

-I can take that shit from ignorant pinky bipeds but I'll be DAMNED if I'll take it from people who KNOW.- Razor's signing was jerky, agitated, but he came over and started walking. His growling became louder as Carl started following.

“Hey Carl, stay here and keep an eye on Eloise and Sara, just in case.”

“Shit, they don't need me to...” He was interrupted as Jericho took the safety off his shock rifle and aimed at the were's torso. Carl had seen what crazy devisor-tech weapons could do and halted.

Jericho smiled in a way that could only be described as evil. “Actually, I insist. Wait here and we'll give you a milk-bone later when we get back.”

Carl's eyes narrowed and Jericho's face grew hard. “Me and my boy gonna talk about private shit. You're disinvited. So stay here and wait or we're gonna make you sit, Carl.”

“CARL! Sit down on that stump, shut your damned mouth and quit antagonizing our guests!” Eloise's voice was like a whipcrack, and the young werewolf unconsciously winced and did what he was told.

Jericho smiled at Eloise, and snapped to attention, bringing his shock-rifle straight in front of him, rifle-saluting the were leader. He almost pulled it off except for the dark blue EMT uniform he was wearing didn't look military enough, and he wandered off, chuckling to himself at Carl's disgusted look.

Once they were away, Jericho looked at his buddy who STILL wasn't calming down. “Heya Razor, you ok? You seem like you're on edge man, moreso than usual.”

-I'm getting rapidly sick of that little shitweasel mouthing off at me like I'm a dumb animal.- Razor's signing was jerky and rough.

“I know man, but this is oddball even for you. I mean c'mon. You don't even get this riled when those New Olympian pricks make snide comments about leash laws with you.”

-I don't know. I'm pissed, I feel off, like something's not right, and it's been like this all week.-

“Yeah. I noticed. You’ve been stalking back and forth like a tiger in a cage every night for the last week. Come on Razor, you're better than this. You can't tell me it's just Carl that's pissing you off this bad.”

Razorback just shrugged. He was acting like what happened whenever he was forced to use a vodor to talk. It was like watching someone try to do a fire walk over broken glass instead of smoldering ashes.

“Let's take us a few minutes alright man? We'll get you calmed, then we'll head back and say good-bye to Eloise and company. Then it's smooth sailing all the way to Oz and seeing your folks again.”

Razor nodded, and sat down on a tree stump, elbows on his upper knees, the onse that didn't bend backward, and started taking deep breaths while Jericho sat and watched his friend worriedly.

“So what do you think about Caitlin, man? I know she seems cool, and I been thinking about asking her to join us in the sim team, as well as hanging out with us.”

Razorback looked up. -Do it. She's an odd duck, and she's the first exemplar pretty I've met that would rather hang out with us than the other, more popular crowds. Plus she's cool, funny and she doesn't look at me, Sandra or you with fear, revulsion, or even a hint of pity. She takes us as we are, no questions. Plus she stood toe to toe with Bloodwolf's Ultraviolent crew without going down, so I'm betting she'd make a good addition in the sims, too.-

“I was hoping you'd say that, bro. I talked to Sandra about it last night, and she just asked why we hadn't done it before now.”

-Because you're a paranoid, overprotective nerdboy, that's why.- Razor looked Jericho in the eyes. -I know you're covering me and Sandra, man, and I figure you dress like a wonky retard as much to draw attention from us as it amuses you. You're that guy who draws fire from his friends because he knows he can take it. But you've been neglecting yourself in the process. Like that starvation diet bullshit we made you stop.-

“Yeah, and I thank you for making me see the error of my ways. And you're right about my dress code, to a point. It really solidified when Hartass about puked when she saw the look though.”

-And you didn't get her expression on camera? What's wrong with you?-

“I'm crazy, not stupid, Jack.”

-Ok I'll give you that.-

“Somehow I doubt I'll be running interference for Cait.”

-Oh yes you will. I don’t know about you, but the girl's posture and personality are violent. No offense to Cait, but she's got a bit too many openly belligerent and combative cues to be able to stay out of trouble.-

“You noticed that too, huh?”

-Yeah. She's really cool, but I have a feeling that girl has her secrets, and she has no intention of sharing.-

“Hey, everyone has some of those. Just so long as those secrets don't bite us in the ass, yeah?”

-Yeah. It'll be a bitch if she learns ASL. Diamond likes to talk about our gender wonk problems that way. Might have to can it during lunch periods.-

“Yeah. I really dearly wish people weren't so fucking touchy about that shit. It's fucking retarded.”

-All right, I still feel off, but I think I can face the fucktard.-

“Fair enough. Let's roll bro.”

-But if that retard starts again I'm gonna make him pay dearly for his asshole behavior.-

“Just don't kill him.”

-Wasn't planning to.-

The two boys wandered back into the clearing and Jericho grinned. “So you see, Razor, on the seventh day when I rested...”

“Oh no. Jericho's finally given into delusions of godhead,” Sara smirked as the two boys walked up to the small group. Carl took the opportunity to stand up and wander over, idly swinging a stick back and forth. Razor just eyeballed him with an expression Jericho had come to know and recognize as a prelude to severely screwing with someone.

“It's only a delusion until I brainwash my own cult.”

Eloise shook her head and Ben chuckled

Jericho, sometimes I wonder about you,” the big bear of a man said with good humor. “Although I gotta say, your sense of humor's been good for us.”

Eloise nodded. “You boys planning to head back to Whateley tonight or you need bunk space?”

“Probably best if we head back to campus tonight.” Jericho jerked his head at Carl, who was waving the stick at Razorback. The velociraptor looking kid seemed almost hypnotized by the mobile piece of wood. Jericho groaned inwardly. Razorback's vision was not motion-oriented, contrary to the current activity, or some silly dinosaur movies. “This is gonna be bad.” He muttered to himself.

“You want the stick, boy?” Carl waved the stick at Razorback, who was hopping back and forth, following the stick like an enthused dog. When Carl whipped the stick off into the darkness, and yelled, “Go get it boy!” Razorback tore off into the woods at full speed, barely a blur to anyone's vision.

“Stupid fucking lizard.” Carl said cheerfully.

“Carl, if we trained you better, could you be more of a fucking asshole?” Ben snarled at the pup that stood there with an unapologetic look on his face.

Eloise looked about ready to start yelling when a distant crash sounded, followed by the sound of tearing metal, another crash, more tearing metal, and several metallic crunches.

Sara looked off into the woods. “I think Razorback found the stick.”

Sure enough a rapidly-moving speedster lizard skidded to a halt in front of Carl, spraying him with a small shower of dirt and leaves. In his mouth he held a truck axle, dragging one wheel along the ground. The other wheel spun slowly in the air with a tic tic tic tic tic noise. Razor dropped it on Carl's feet, ignoring the yelp of pain and wagging his tail on all fours. The look was predatory, and to Jericho's lack of eyes, and Sara's perceptions, his posture promised further pain.

Eloise looked at Carl, annoyed. “First it's you getting mixed up with demon-girl, then you aggravate Merry, and now you can't leave the giant clawed, spined mutant kid who tears the demons apart like a wolf in a chicken hatchery alone? When will you learn?”

Jericho sighed, as Carl's jaw worked up and down like a beached fish. “You just had to encourage him, didn't you?”

Carl didn't hear him, he was instead staring at the expensive hubcaps on the wheel that he, himself had bought with his own ready cash a few months back. “My truck! You wrecked my truck you dirty, stinking scaled...” The stream of invective continued for several minutes while Razorback happily bathed in Carl's frustrations. The poor idiot was too stunned to even get angry.

“Don't worry, Carl, walking is good for you.” Sara snickered as she wandered over to stand by Jericho.

Eloise and Ben were trying desperately not to burst out laughing at Carl's stupidity, and Razor's puppylike revenge.

-Consider yourself lucky. Next time I'm fetching your femur.-

Carl fixed Razorback with a look of pure disgust and hate. “What did the stupid lizard just say to me?”

Jericho gave a pleasant smile and said, “He said, and I quote.... Arf, arf arf, arfarfarf, arf.”

Ben and Eloise actually started snickering.

“He just bet me a million dollars that you won't have the guts to throw the stick again.” Sara pretended to examine her claws as she talked. “I've seen his investment portfolio too. You're on Razorback.”

“Is that right?” Carl picked up another stick and lobbed it into the woods again, showing his typical lack of common sense.

Jericho just sighed again, and Eloise looked at Carl like she was debating killing him herself.

“Hope you like the money, honey.” Carl smirked at Sara.

“Here we go again.” Jericho turned to Sara, pretending not to watch.

Eloise started moving forward, irritation writ plain on her face, with Ben flanking, face like a thunder cloud. They never got close.

Razorback let out an oddly quizzical chirp, then whipped the cricket bat off his back and attacked, showing just how fast a speedster going full-throttle could hit someone, repeatedly. Carl found his knees slammed out from under him, his torso and spine struck about four times apiece as Razorback whipped the bat around him, then ended up slammed to the ground by a shot to the face. Razor backed up as Carl whimpered and howled in pain, trying to stand, then ripped forward and proceeded to beat the ever-living shit out of the cocky werewolf with the bat in the span of a human breath.

Sara sighed as Jericho watched the spectacle with an immense amount of satisfaction. “Testosterone, the curse of modern man.”

Jericho smirked, “Are you sure about a bet for money, Sara? I thought he said that he was betting your boy here wouldn't be able to stand for the next ten minutes when he got done with him.”

“Well, he did mention something about femurs...” she stopped when the sound of claws tearing flesh sounded out and Carl screamed over a loud, wet, cracking noise. “Oh, there it is.”

Jericho went pale, as he could “see” the whole thing clearly through his odd, all around vision. He counted his blessings that he couldn't make out colors, or he might have puked. Razorback was really on edge. Ben and Eloise had stopped cold, their eyes wide and stunned at the scene of their resident moron getting something a long time in coming.

“I so did not need to see that.” Jericho's voice was a bit weak.

Thankfully, Sara was there to distract him from the little horror scene playing out nearby, snuggling up to him. “He's a Were, it'll grow back. Besides, all this violence is so... stimulating.”

Jericho unconsciously put an arm around the beautiful girl pressed against him, momentarily tuning out Razorback's revenge. “If this is a dream, then my alarm clock had better not go off again.”

“Yes, that was annoying...” Sara mumbled just quietly enough that he couldn't hear.

“Sorry, Sara, I couldn't make that out.”

“I said, that'll teach him to try and give a dog a bone.”

“More like the dog got boned there.”

Razorback was waving the offending bone above the whining, pained werewolf in near-exact mimicry of the asshole's previous behavior.

Jericho shuddered. “That's just disturbing.” He palmed a shrieker grenade, just in case Razorback snapped and went even MORE overboard. The sonic emitter would flatten his buddy faster than anything under the sun if need be.

“Some people just have it coming.” Sara looked into his blank, white eyes as she spoke.

“You know, we never tried that particular method.” Eloise looked thoughtful as Razorback continued waving the bone tauntingly over the whimpering were, then whipped it into the woods and watched disgustedly as Carl let out a cry and began dragging himself after it.

-Asshole.-

Razorback stalked away from Carl and began pacing, agitated again, like he wasn't sure whether to leave and calm down, or go rip Carl's head off and put the son of a bitch out of his misery.

“Suddenly my appreciation for Razor's restraint at school just skyrocketed.” Jericho watched his friend, more than a bit horrified, even if the punishment was appropriate. Sara simply nodded in response.

Eloise nodded towards Razorback. “Can we formally adopt him? I mean all the way?”

Ben shook his head. “No dear, there are pack laws against doing that to family.”

“Pity.”

“We're going to have to print color-coded t-shirts. Something that says 'MINE! HANDS OFF!” Sara chuckled mildly.

“I think that might be the meanest thing Jack has ever done to someone.” Jericho watched his friend carefully. Jack was still furious, and he was moving like he was stalking something.

Ben growled, “I think Carl might learn to not piss people off so quickly. Besides, he's been antagonizing our friend there since they met.”

Sara looked in askance at Ben. “You think having a dinosaur rip out his femur while his friends watch without lifting a finger will sink in?”

Ben nodded. “Just might. All right, I need to go see to dipshit. We might need him over the next couple days, and we can't afford to have him laid up for a month re-growing that bone.”

Sara sighed and nodded. “You're probably right; kicking him while he's down might be counterproductive.”

Ben nodded and stalked into the woods after the errant pup.

Jericho looked to Eloise. “Sorry, Ma'am. I don’t know what's gotten into Razor, he's been a lot pissier of late.” Eloise's return shrug was an elegant reply in its simplicity.

Sara walked up to Razorback and wiped some of the blood off his face. “Feel better?” She licked her fingers and smirked.

-Not really. Something's not right, and human blood tastes like shit.-

“That's what I've heard. I guess I just like new things.”

-No offense, but I need some time to calm down. I'm still fighting the urge to kill that dickwipe.-

“And how long have you felt this irritable?”

-About a week now.-

“If you were a girl I'd ask about PMS. Jericho, honey, how many sensors are you carrying at this moment?”

Jericho started rummaging through his pack. “Enough to sink the Bismarck from field emissions alone, why?”

“Be a dear and give Razor the once over while he takes a seat and a few nice, deep, cleansing breaths... maybe a drink of water.”

Jericho nodded and brought out one of his biometrics scanner, and ran the triage protocols, running the devise across Razorback for a few moments, then ran a cable to the back of his head to read the data.

“Heartbeat's up, breathing's up, blood pressure's up, but other than that all normal for Razor after he's gotten riled.”

“What about noises, high pitched sound higher than the human ear?”

“He'd be in frenzy right now if that was a problem.”

“I’m just being thorough, dear. Besides, we're in a village full of weres, someone else would have heard it anyway. Ok, Razor, did you just wake up one morning feeling out of sorts?”

Jericho considered carefully as he spoke. “I've only seen him like this right before...” He paused and drew the shock-rifle, dumping the safety and spinning it back up to maximum power. “Right before those fucking voodoo-wolves show up.”

“Bonus.” Sara grinned.

“He's been getting like this at school, at night. I think the voodoo-wolves have decided that you and Fey are a bit too much of a pain in the ass Sara. They seem to have tracked you home.”

“God, I hope so.” Sara's expression was predatory. “Question, though. How come we're not swamped with voodoo-wolves right now?”

“Easy. You infect a city, you get nuked. Wait, you meant right now, didn't you?”

Sara nodded.

The sounds of snarling and screaming erupted near the houses, and whatever was bugging Razorback snapped into full clarity as the spined nightmare released his distinctive, ululating hunting call and burst into full-speed, tearing off towards the homes of the weres.

Jericho pulled out an odd piece of headgear, and strapped it over his ear, as he began running. He jacked it into his skull-jack and poured on the speed, which was surprisingly swift for a pudgy kid. All the running coached by Razorback had been helping him.

“That's why!” he yelled as Sara easily paced him.

“Methinks there's a slight flaw in our working hypothesis.” The demon-girl was speaking easily while Jericho was huffing under his load.

“And that flaw is?” He was having trouble talking as his breathing quickened.

“If they want me, there's much easier ways. And I've never seen a voodoo-wolf with orichalcum claws.”

“And iron for Fey, I know!” The statement came out quick while the blind boy tried to regulate his breathing. “So what the *huff* fuck... *wheeze* are they looking for?”

“Ok, what are the other commonalities to their appearances? Razor, you, the outcasts...”

Jericho was beyond talking by the time they got halfway to Weretown. “Cant... talkandrun.. At... the same time!”

“Humans.”

“Go.”

“What?”

Jericho took a deep breath. “Go! I'll catch up!”

Sara looked concerned but saw the hard set of the boy's jaw and nodded, flickering and seeming to vanish as she poured on the speed.

Jericho caught his second wind as he entered the Weretown perimeter, running straight for the worst sounds of fighting, homing in on the sounds of animal whines and checking motionless forms. The Triage monitor plugged into his head immediately began overlaying his grayscale vision with colored brackets marking each living being, green for Razorback and Sara, Yellow for the weres, and red for the voodoo-wolves, regardless of actual species.

He spotted a pair of Voodoo-Wolves dragging what looked like three unconscious weres away from the combat and laid in, dropping to a knee and firing his shock-rifle at the one closest to him. It would injure the unconscious weres, but better broken bones than being left to the tender mercies of the enemy. The air distortion fired from the rifle hit the voodoo-wolf, a great bear-like creature mixed with something... other, something foul. He couldn't make out the full form, as his odd vision left the monster hazy and indistinct, which was probably what kept him from suffering the same kind of mental trauma that those poor cop bastards had dealt with.

The distortion exploded in a shockwave, blasting the voodoos and their captives apart in a great burst, flinging all of them like rag dolls. Jericho hit a trigger on his EMT vest and ripping pops announced the teleportation of his simulator bots. The simple, arachnid, robotic killers had been fitted with biometric scanners and programmed to seek out voodoo-wolves as preferred targets autonomously and kill them.

Two of the leaper bots bounded forward and tackled the voodoos, tearing at them with bladed legs as the monsters tried to get past the robots and recover their captives. Jericho ignored the voodoos and started dragging the unconscious weres together and set his PPF for proximity activation. It was just in time as a great cougar-thing leaped at him, and hit the force-field the PPF interposed between it and him. An Arc-Spider let rip with an electron burst, man-made lightning that tore through the corrupted werecougar's body, flash-frying several organs. Two more spiders added to the thunder, and the voodoo-wolf burned, twitching as Jericho's Triage monitor marked foreign objects in several of the bleeding wounds of his patients.

A pair of needle-nose pliers did the job quickly, pulling black, pulsing claw-fragments from the wounds until the monitor gave the all-clear. The spider-bots were busy chasing down, shredding or simply blasting at the voodoos that got too close to him and his charges as Jericho thanked whatever gods were watching that the patients weren't awake for the next part.

A metal spike heated to red as Jericho activated the Devise and ran it through the wounds of the unconscious weres. Heat slowed and killed the toxins, and he saw the gunk disintegrate as the brand cauterized the wounds. It wasn't a cure, but it would buy time that the weres might desperately need. He almost hit his panic button that would send an emergency signal to Poe, twice, but the bots burned down the voodoos, claws unable to penetrate the armored little monstrosities, or his PPF shield. For the millionth time Jericho thanked the heavens that he was always over-prepared. If he hadn't, he'd be dead already.

As he finished patching up the unconscious weres as much as he could, he drew a metal spike out of his pack, and drove it into the ground, then began running to the next combat hotspot, blasting two more Voodoo-Weres with his shock rifle as the spike caused a black bubble of energy to surround his wards, encasing them in a force-bubble permeable only by oxygen.

He and his spider-bots reached the next crowd of fighting as Jericho began the process anew, trying to calm a screaming were while he pulled out the claw shards, then cauterizing wounds after administering a type of fast-acting morphine he'd concocted and tested thoroughly.

Somewhere nearby, he heard Razorback's feral shriek of victory, then another...

Jericho sat away from the weres after the battle ended. It wasn't exactly safe to be human near a pack of battle-wired werecritters after a fight. He didn't feel calm and collected afterwards, the way the superheroes always seemed to be. His hands were shaking as they gripped the Shock-rifle, trying to sort out what had happened. The sims were one thing, but real combat was different, no matter how much the sims did to make it real. This... This wasn't a video game, and he found himself thanking God on high for letting him see the end alive. The shakes would go, he'd had them before, but he knew from the last time he'd seen a fight with the fiery Fey, that there would be nightmares to follow, and he'd have to cope with it, even as he'd begun to learn to deal with a real life-or-death situation.

Razorback was already asleep, having gorged on the contents of Ben's meat-cooler after his extended berserk fit. Usually when Razor flipped he was indiscriminate, but against these things, he was like a guided missile, and each time he fought them he was getting more effective. Word was he'd fought and killed three of the damned things at once tonight before moving on to savage more. It was a bit terrifying to contemplate, like Jack was made to kill these things.

He noted Sara walking up, covered in cobalt ash, interrupting his brooding thoughts.

“They don't do that voodoo so well,” the demon-girl said as she sat next to him, seeming not to notice the blood and other things covering parts of his clothing.

Jericho nodded slowly. “Yeah, fortunately, Eloise says the healers can patch the rest of the wounded up now those claw-bits are out of everyone, so no emergency oh-shit calls to bring Fey out.”

Sara nodded and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Whoops, looks like I made a clean spot. Guess I'll have to do the whole thing.”

Jericho smiled wanly and turned his head, not quite looking at her. “Tempting, but I really need a shower right now.” She noticed for the first time, the stressed fatigue in his features, and the shaking hands. “And some sleep.”

“It's called a joke, we have them on Saturn.”

“With you it's hard to tell. Maybe I'll catch on quicker in the morning after I've drank all of Elois' coffee.” He stood, shifting his rifle in his hands like he was afraid to let it down. “I bet it's that Folgers crap too. So hard to find good Java these days.”

“Mental note: never joke with people after a fight. Gotcha.”

“Hey, I'm counting my blessings. No fatalities, I'm in one piece and I didn't have to use Burnout in a Can to keep the goddamned poison from doing to me what it did to those State troopers.”

Sara nodded and tried to wipe the blue dust off her clothing, mostly successfully. “Burnout in a Can? Something fun from the Devisor shop?”

Jericho nodded. “It's a piece of nasty I concocted after I used Jobe's lab to have a look-see at the venom shit I collected. That bastard didn't believe me when I said it was dangerous as fuck all. Then he took one look at it and set the lab's burn protocols himself. We destroyed the shit after. All of it. Even Jobe didn't want to touch the stuff.”

Sara nodded. “Smart of him, although I can't say bringing that stuff to Whateley was a bright idea.”

“Had to test a theory. Heat slows it down. Turns out Burnout will kill the shit in a mutant. So I came up with this.” Jericho removed an epi-pen from the harness on his left arm full of amber fluid. “This is pure devisor, so I'll only trust it with me. If I get caught by those assholes and live, it'll give me about an hour to get help before it causes full burnout and kills the toxins. Unfortunately it also leaves me with the dilemma of needing to get medical attention, so I'm not eager to test it.”

“I can see why.” She handed it back and watched him replace the pen into the harness. “Why would you put yourself through that?”

“Better dead than turning out like those things.” Jericho spat on the ground. “Damned Voodoo-Wolves. Remind me to borrow some of Tinkertrain's plasma grenades in case I meet this 'bastard' motherfucker you all are talking about.”

Sara bit back a smartass comment, recognizing Jericho wasn't up for it, which for him was extremely odd.

He continued onward, actually saying something that got Sara's attention. “This Bastard's got to be a mutant, or had to start as one. This corrupted were shit's supposed to be impossible, right? That means we're probably looking at a mutant whose physiology allowed the jump, then got infected.”

Sara nodded. “That might be. Makes sense, after all, Ebola didn't go airborne until after a mutant got exposed and died. Of course it's also possible the bastard has a mutant that allowed the jump in his employ.”

Jericho nodded, took a few steps and stumbled. Sara was up and kept him from falling as battle-fatigue took its toll on the boy. “Looks like that's my cue. All right. I'm going to grab some shut-eye as well. I'll talk to you tomorrow before we kick it back to Twain. We don’t know when Razor's final is.”

“That's ok. Where'd the big goofball end up? I'll go check on him.”

“He's passed out in Ben's kitchen. He almost always has to gorge after he flips out.”

“Will he be ok like that? Should I move him into a bed or something?” Sara gave a worried look.

Jericho shook his head. “He's done this before. He passes out on the floor in the dorm fairly regularly, or in the common room. No one with any sense screws with him.”

“Ok, I'll leave him be. Goodnight, Jericho, sweet dreams.”

“Joe.”

“Joe?”

“Name's Joseph Turner. You can call me Joe.”

“Ok Joe, sleep well.”

“You too Sara.”

Sara was left, watching Joe stumble towards Ben's cabin. The devisor kid's fatigue, and loss of humor capacity after the battle only reminded her of the differences between her and the people she called friends.

A Whateley Academy Story

Call The Thunder

By Joe Gunnarson and the Whateley Crew

Chapter 3:  All’s Fair in Fun and Chaos

 

Tuesday, December 12th, 2006

Caitlin walked softly across the lawn, stalking her prey before sunrise.  The two NSA recruiters were oblivious to the slow-moving form creeping up behind them.  She knew these two well over the past three years.  Sometimes she got them, sometimes they slipped past her.  Unfortunately they were being lazy.  They must have heard that Mahren, the bastard that he was, was no longer at Whateley to terrorize them.  This was true; however Erik’s legacy lived on in her new form, grinning like a maniac as she slipped behind Hawthorne to intercept them.  From their idle chatter they were here to talk to Compiler if they could isolate her, something about the nanites she’d used to make herself into an Exemplar.  The thought was highly amusing, as Babs’ little devises almost invariably had something go horribly wrong, hence her incarceration at Hawthorne Correctional.

Caitlin heard a snap behind her and froze.  She must’ve missed their backup, so she slowly creeped sideways at an angle away from her targets, watching behind her, and wincing as tiny flashes flickered along her body.  Each flicker of energy had the potential to give her position to the enemy, so she had to be very careful.  The thought of turning these two losers over to Delarose wasn’t that satisfying, and she technically wasn’t on-duty with the Security Auxiliaries, yet.  Sucked to be them, it was humiliation time.

She almost lost her cool when she turned back to look at the two and found a petite blonde girl in a security uniform and a ghilly suit less than four inches away, staring her in the eyes.  The young woman’s face held an amused expression and she slowly shook her head at Caitlin, waving a finger back and forth, slowly.  Caitlin glared at Whateley’s prettiest security officer and nodded.  Delarose never let her have any fun when he could help it.

Sam slowly nodded her head and pointed at her eyes with two fingers, then pointed to a small tree with good brush cover about twenty yards from the two. Caitlin followed and nodded.  It was the spot she’d intended to ambush the two recruiters originally.  Sam nodded and handed Caitlin a pair of cuffs and pumped her fist once, then slid into the bushes away from the metal-haired girl.

Caitlin just chuckled silently and slid over, continuing her creep to her chosen spot.  Five minutes later she realized that she couldn’t see Sam anywhere.  She focused on the currents and noted the two men barely caused a ripple in the flows.  Hawthorne, just beyond appeared to be a hurricane of energy, whipping and sliding in mad patterns and vortices.  The feel of the currents sliding across her skin increased as she concentrated, then froze, perfectly still.  She couldn’t see Sam visually, or in the currents.  That meant Sam was either Miss Slick Shit, or she was shielded.  All mutants interacted with the flows, just as baseline humans did, though the flavor of that interaction was distinct and unique to the mutant in question.  She just hadn’t figured out how to differentiate between them by their signatures that way, or how to spot them from the normal background static without looking directly at them.

Sam revealed her position by pointing her rifle-mounted flashlight at the two men who for a moment sat stunned like a pair of deer in an oncoming headlight.  “Whateley Security!  Place your hands on your heads and get on your knees!”

Caitlin watched the two men raise their hands slowly.  She saw the one slightly further from Sam slide something out of his sleeve and click a button.  It took her all of two seconds to get behind him and snatch the object, shoving him roughly into the dirt as his partner hit the ground with his hands on his head.  She had the handcuffs on the offender’s wrists as the flash-strobe went off, making her dizzy and filling her vision with spots.  The sudden panic of shock caused her aura to erupt, sending streaks of yellowish lightning into the plants nearby, and the two men.

The cooperative one screamed as the bush he was next to uprooted itself and proceeded to wrap him in tentacle-like branches with leaves acting like little suction-cups.  The man with the strobe-pen started giggling uncontrollably as Sam came in close, cuffing the other and dragging the two away from the suddenly lively underbrush.  Caitlin found her leg wrapped in a tree root that was snaking its way up past her knee when her vision and confusion cleared enough that she could see again.  Sam didn’t even seem to have been affected by any of it.

Sam looked mildly amused as she read the men their Miranda rights and Caitlin stood up.  The root kept crawling up her leg until she kicked, snapping it off from the tree.  A few moments later the brush settled down, somewhat, then went quiescent as she blinked away the last of the stars in her vision.  The one agent was still giggling madly, but slowing down somewhat.

“Having fun?”  Sam gave her a somewhat stern, and disappointed look.

Caitlin shook her head a bit.  “Well I was until somebody interrupted my progress practicing my creep.”

“Ahhh, so that’s what you call it?  I’d call it akin to a child trying to sneak up on a dog while sneezing.”

“Hey, if I don’t practice, I’ll never learn now will I?  Want me to check these two for more fun goodies?”

“Already have.  Lucky for them, that strobe thing’s all they got.”

Caitlin sighed.  So much for my early-morning mayhem.  “So we take these idiots to Delarose?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to young lady?”  One of the agents, whom now that Caitlin was paying attention, was Blonde with dark roots as opposed to his normal coloration.

“Shut up, Masterson, if I want your opinion I’ll give it to you.”

Sam raised an eye.  “Masterson, huh?  You know these two?”

Caitlin about answered, but then shook her head.  “Nah, I memorized the pictures of the recruiters with frequent offender miles here.  The brown-haired guy here’s new though.  We haven’t got his photo yet.”

Sam nodded sagely.  “Well it’s a good thing we found you boys.  Of late we’ve had a student decide to play a little rough.  She seems to think zip-tying recruiters to the flagpole after running their skivvies up as the flag is fun stuff.”

Caitlin inwardly groaned.  She was not looking forward to another of Delarose’s talks about assaulting federal officials, even if they were trespassing and breaking the accords.

“Well, now that you have them in custody, officer Everhart was it?  I’ll just mosey on back to my cottage until breakfast.”

Sam shook her head.  “You wish.  You come with me too.  Since you’re up at this ungodly hour we may as well put you to work.  Might keep you out of trouble.”

Caitlin got a sour look, but nodded in agreement.  “So how’d you manage to sneak up on me like that?”

“Please.  I’m the master of the creep.  Maybe someday I’ll teach you how to do it right.”

“Wonderful, I’m being stalked by Delarose’s personal ninja.  Lead the way, officer.  I’d volunteer to drag one, but I don’t want to risk injuring someone who’s already in custody.”

Sam smiled.  “Love to.  All right you two up and move.  If you give me any trouble I’ll let my girl here duct-tape your heads inside a toilet bowl and leave you there.”

Caitlin grinned evilly.  “Oh no, by all means, please.  Make trouble.”

“I hate this school.”  Masterson’s voice was barely audible.

Sam smiled sweetly.  “It’s not so fond of you, either.”

Jericho walked around the homes of Weretown, sipping from a large mug of coffee he’d scrounged up.  He hadn’t gotten much sleep, but he’d gotten enough to get by through the day.  Most of the residents of the area were out cleaning up the mess from the night before or trying to pretend all was well enough to go to work.  Eloise was out and about with Ben, checking to make sure that everyone was still accounted for.  The voodoo-wolves had been trying to drag off several of the community residents.  They hadn’t been there to kill, but to capture.

He wandered for a bit when he spotted Sara sitting on the roof of Elois’ cabin.  God only knew why she and Ben had separate homes, given that both of them loved each other dearly.  Either it was just the nature of the beast, or something was holding them back.  Who knows?  Perhaps he was reading too much into it and they were family.

Four minutes after that bit of reflection, one emptied mug and a lot of grunting and cursing later, he pulled himself up and sat down next to the demon-girl.  He let his feet hang off the roof rather like hers were and pretended to watch the sun rise.

“Penny for your thoughts?”  Jericho didn’t really know how to talk to the girl, as they’d only spoken briefly, and in cursory fashion.  Most of the others were extremely antsy around her.  Jericho was cautious, but he wasn’t going to live in fear of what she might do to him.  Were he of that mind he’d never have made friends with Jack, who was still sleeping off his rage and meal in Ben’s kitchen.

Sara turned and gave him a halfhearted smile.  “They’re not worth a penny.  Sleep well?”

“Yeah, once the shaking stopped, but yeah I did.”

“I’m sorry if last night I was a little...”  Sara paused, trying to think of the proper words.  She wasn’t accustomed to being flustered or unable to find the right words.

Jericho simply turned towards her and raised an eyebrow.

“You know, I can’t think of the word in English?  Unfazed seems a bit cold.”

“Analytical, perhaps?”

“Maybe inappropriately flippant.”  Sara looked a mite chagrined as she said it.

“You?  Flippant?  NAAAAAAAW!”  Jericho smirked as she realized that even when he was dog-tired and just waking up, the boy sitting next to her couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be an ass.  “However, I do believe the word you’re looking for is blasé.”

“Yes, that’s it.  Blasé.”  She shrugged.  “It’s the little things that hit you, you know?  Not being...  Human.”

“I wouldn’t know, I just turned into a tech-geek.  We all have our ways of coping.  You blow it off; I scream profanity and make sarcastic remarks.  Our ways work for us.  At least you’re not so much of a worry-wart.”

Sara shook her head.  “That’s the point; it’s not that I’m blowing it off. I just don’t have that... reaction. I don’t get tired. I don’t get the shakes being covered in ash. And I don’t notice the lack until I turn around and talk to someone going through it.”

Jericho stopped for a moment, then began speaking cautiously.  “I think I understand.  Gimmie a minute to gather my thoughts.”

“Gather away, I’ve had all night.”

Jericho began speaking slowly, then slowly picked up the pace.  “All right, so it’s not a normal reaction.  It’s a bit unnerving, I’ll admit, but I have seen similar things.  Razor’s flip-out urges about top the list for the things that bug me since I know he can’t shut it off.  Then you’ve got Diamondback, who reacts to things in a manner akin to a snake as often as not, which is a profound change from before she became what she is.  She doesn’t notice it, but the cues are all there even if it’s subtle.”

He continued, albeit somewhat unsurely, like the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place bit by bit.  “And then Caitlin, whom I’ve just gotten to know, moves, acts and talks like she’s ready for a fight, or expecting to get jumped.  All the time, even on those rare occasions that she’s totally relaxed, it’s like she’s primed to kill something.  I don’t think most people even notice these things except Razor’s temper, and I’m not sure it is a temper problem.  I don’t know if those comparisons make any sense to you.”

Sara actually gave him a smile.  “So you’re saying we’ve all got our quirks?”

“Yeah.  We all do.  It may not always be the human reaction, but tell me, how many people do you actually know who show all of the standard-issue ‘human’ reactions to things?”

“None, but don’t worry, I’m not down about it.  How long has Caitlin been part of your group?  I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“Oh, ‘bout two weeks now, give or take.  She’s kind of hard to miss, tall, exemplar, ancestry impossible to trace by looking at her, metal hair and these freaky-ass, runed metal eyes.  She’s a bit cagey around the magicky types I’ve noticed.  And reality starts coming uncorked when she touches shit.  That flashy aura’s a bit fucked up.”

Sara looked suddenly thoughtful.  “Two weeks...  and Razor’s been on edge for one?”

“About that, but it’s not constant either, it comes and goes.”

“Do you all dorm nearby?”

Jericho shook his head.  “No.  Me’n Razor are both in Twain, Diamond’s in Whitman, and Cait just moved into Hawthorne yesterday.  They had her bunking out in the utility sheds because of that aura.  It’s apparently a nightmare to contain.  She has to wear wards sewn into her clothing to keep from going nuclear.”

Sara nodded. “I just can’t help thinking that the Outcasts are connected to this in a way you know nothing about.  Razor’s reaction hints at a spiritual connection to these things somehow.  As if he’s a soldier in a war he can’t remember.”

“Yeah, it’s weird.  Plus he rips through them like he’s been doing it his whole life.  And then there’s the grove.  That place doesn’t like me.  Don’t ask me how I know, but I do.  It sounds crazy but it’s the feel I get.  It’s like I’m distinctly unwelcome.  Razor though...  Just the opposite.  He goes in and it’s like he’s walking through the front door after work.”

Jericho continued, slowly nodding to himself as though he was getting the thoughts straight.  “He just...  Relaxes.”

Sara turned directly towards him.  “Did you say The Grove?”

Jericho looked over and nodded.  “Yeah, big, spooky wooded area, frequent cause for injury among idiots.  It’s how we get here on foot so fast.”

“So that’s how Fey got you involved.”

“No, Razor got me involved.  I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”

“Exactly.”

“I thought Nikki filled you in on how all that occurred.”

“Nikki was a bit overly focused on the Voodoo-wolves.  She missed a few details that she probably figured were obvious, but then she’s not always in the human mindset herself.”

Jericho quirked an eyebrow while nodding about Nikki’s tendency towards bizarre thought patterns, puzzling through the steps.  “How he got involved, he says he was running around in there, like he does on occasion, and he caught a hint of these fuckers creeping around there.  Turns out they were setting up an ambush for the elfy one.”  He paused and considered.  “These Voodoo-Wolves make me ill when I think of what they’re about, but Razor...  He does not like them.  On a level I can’t even understand.  Suggest hunting them and he’s chomping at the bit to go.”

Jericho looked directly at Sara, for once.  “Come to think of it, he had to fight the urge to assault, kill and eat you in music class too, but he got over it.  That was back in what, late September, early October?”

“You think it was coincidence that Razor just happened to be walking out at night when Fey was attacked?”

“Maybe.  Maybe not.  She’d just gone out to talk to the weres.  And Razor does the whole disappear into the woods thing about once or twice a month.”

“Add up what we know. One, Razor can sense these things and knows how to kill them. Two, the Grove, a place of magic not known for it’s kindness to strangers, welcomes him with open arms. Three, he suddenly comes upon the Queen of the West right when she needs a knight to protect her. I’d say it’s pretty conclusive, Razor’s one of the fae.”  Sara semi-smirked at her own reasoning.

Jericho shook his head.  “Doesn’t wash.  I’ve done research into the fae since I got dragged into this clusterfuck.  No allergy to iron, no weird mystic prohibitions, and he doesn’t kowtow to Fey, which he should if he’s one of them since she’s theoretically some kind of noble or something.  The weres, on the other hand, act as though she was their natural-born leader, ordained by God and all that.”

“The exact nature of the Fae is greatly clouded by history. Once, they Elder Races and their Gods were as diverse and life on this planet is now. Historians just lump them all together and call them ‘Fae’.  If Razor’s not of the Fae but welcome, he’s certainly some sort of ally.  That much, I’m pretty sure of.”

“Eh.  Not so sure there.  Razor...   Fey, and these weres, scream ‘magic’ at me.  Razor doesn’t.  If any word were to apply to him it’d be Primal.  But I’ll keep looking.  You could be right.”  Jericho didn’t look happy with the line of thought, but he was considering it carefully.

“Be careful what you read. Books about that era in Earth’s history are scarce and dangerous.”

“I haven’t exactly been poking at the restricted section of the library just yet.  But I did look at all the old legends, and none of them have anything that matches my boy there, not even by a close margin.  The dragon legends are closer, but still.  Nothing seems to add up.”

“Except for the dinosaurs,” Sara said with a wry smile.

Jericho nodded.  “Yeah.  Who knows?  Razor just might have picked up a genetic throwback set of genes for all I know.  Maybe the dinosaurs hunted shit like what we’re fighting today.  It’d make a kind of sense, considering the buggers don’t exactly leave much evidence of their passing once they start rotting”“

“Or maybe someone created the dinosaurs for that purpose.”

“Yeah, now we’re delving into ‘Is there a God?’ territory.”

“I know of at least one, myself.”

Jericho shrugged, mildly.  “The Jury’s still out on that one in my book.  I’m not sure I accept any of the classical depictions, descriptions or whatever about God.”

“I guess that depends on your definition of a God or one God.”

“I’ll stick to agnosticism.  It’s a bit cleaner here.  More clutter, but cleaner.”

Sara tilted her head.  “Then I can only suggest that you don’t worry too much about Razor’s origin. The things you might discover in the process don’t fit well into the agnostic’s world view.”

“Agnosticism is another word for ‘haven’t made up my mind yet.”

Sara looked at him seriously.  “I know, but like it or not it’s still a philosophy of life just as much as Christianity.  An agnostic needs convincing over something that can never be quantified.  If I were to show you a miracle, would you recognize it for what it was and admit you’re wrong?  If I made the sky rain blood, would you believe it to be the work of a Goddess or the power of a mutant?”

Jericho shrugged again.  “Maybe The origins of things don’t matter so much to me as the here and now.  I don’t know.  And honestly?  I couldn’t tell you for sure what I’d think till it happens.  Maybe God is a concept that can only be fully understood by one who worships, or is being worshipped.”

Sara smiled, “Of course.  I’m sorry if I sounded rude, I was only speaking hypothetically.”

“Eh, it happens.  Gotta understand, I’m used to it.  I had a pontificating fuck of a preacher I had to listen to every Sunday back home.  He was just less friendly about it than you are, hence why he’s a fucker.”

“Don’t get me started on religion; we’ll be here all day.”

“Yeah, believe me, It’s not a topic around me or Diamond either.  Once we get going...”  Jericho’s voice trailed off as he watched a certain spined, black-mottled, Mini-Saurus Rex come stalking around sniffing the air, and generally looking reassuringly normal.  “Ahh, shit.  Razor’s up.  We need to get back to Whateley before the arena opens for business.  We still don’t know when Razor’s up on the block.  I got my notice for Friday, but not what time.”

Sara hopped to her feet.  “I’m on Friday too.”

Jericho chuckled to himself.  “Well, when the time comes I wish you luck.”

“Ditto.”

Jericho stood up and stopped just before he reached the safe spot to climb down.  “You know, Sara.  Some days I think that each of us worships our creator ultimately by being whom, and what we are, living life as we are meant to with no fear, and no regrets.”

Sara looked thoughtful.  “So how do you know who or what you’re meant to be?”

Jericho shrugged.  “That’s the bitch about free will.  You have to make your choices and live with the consequences.  Maybe that’s the whole point of the exercise, becoming what, and who you choose to be, a reflection of the whole.”  He chuckled.  “Maybe I’m not as Agnostic as I thought.”

Sara smiled.  “Well, it gives me something to think about.”

“See you around campus, Sara.”

Jericho slid down off the roof and started collecting his gear while Razorback nattered at him, wordlessly in that oddly birdlike voice of his, hissing, barking and chirping at the blind boy until he was situated.  Then the pair turned and began making a beeline towards the Grove again.  She tracked them and noted that when they reached the edge of the Grove, Razor walked right in, while Jericho paused, nervously, like he was praying for a sign that he wouldn’t have to go that way.  After a moment, he followed his friend.

Sara smirked to herself.  “Hell, Joe, you’ve given me a lot to think about.  Thanks.”

Caitlin exited Kane Hall after helping Sam book the two recruiter fools, and completing her share of the paperwork.  Having been taken by the strobe-flasher was embarrassing, to say the least.  Having gotten snuck up on by the petite blonde walking from Kane Hall with her was just... aggravating.  Even on her worst day she should never have been able to get that close.  Hell, Deadeye never could and he was a chameleon!

“Problem, Miss Bardue?”  Sam semi-smirked at her as they began a patrol route that would keep both of them occupied until the Crystal Hall opened for breakfast.  Delarose had decided that perhaps Caitlin’s maniacal energies could be put to better use than terrorizing the recruiters, so she got to follow Sam and learn the basics of Security patrols.  Unfortunately, this was yet another thing Caitlin was grossly familiar with.

“Just irritated.  That asshole never should have gotten me with the strobe, and no offense, but you should not have been able to get that close to me without me spotting you.”  Her voice carried quite a bit more rancor than she’d intended.

“Don’t sweat it too much.  I’ve been doing this since before you were out of grade school.”

“My ass, you can’t be older than eighteen.”

Sam smirked as they passed the route back up to Range Four.  “Appearances can be deceiving, can’t they, Corporal?”

Caitlin stopped dead in her tracks and just stared at Sam.

Sam stopped as well and looked at Caitlin evenly.  “Look, you’re not the only one who’s had something like this happen to you.  Granted, it’s rare, and almost invariably painful, but unfortunately you need to recognize a few things you’ve been blind to and screwing up.”

“Who are you?  How do you know me?  And much do you know about me?”

“I know enough that I can’t talk about most of it in an unsecured area without Delarose being legally obligated to arrest me and turn me over to N.I.S.”

Caitlin glowered, more at the situation than at Sam.  “Fine.  Let’s get to the bunker, so you can check your codes.  The cage is bug-proof, for the most part.”

Sam nodded.  “I do have to ask you about the cage security system.  I’ve shouldn’t have been locked out like that.”

“Powers over electronic machinery?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough.  The whole system’s pure Devisor, and based off electrophysics and design parameters that don’t really mesh well with reality.  We kept it because I was actually able to make the thing operate without malfunctioning most of the time.  To this day I still can’t understand the logic behind how it operates, but it’s something about a trinary system, with a fuzzy logic circuit.  It’s actually about as intelligent as a newborn kitten, so it follows its instincts.”

Sam pondered as Hive began extrapolating the nightmare that that setup might envision.  “So it’s an AI?”

“Yes and no.  It’s more of a reactive computer.  It is weird, and I’ve had to disassemble the whole goddamned thing and rebuild it three times now.  I’d normally get it replaced, but thus far the damned thing has locked out every single unauthorized break-in attempt.  It’s a system that’s a pain in the ass, but it works.”

The conversation continued as Caitlin allowed Sam to open the locks on the bunker and back cage, testing her newfound access.

“Good Lord, this system’s a giant cluster.”  Sam was somewhat distracted while Hive tried to run a full analysis and continually came to the conclusion that the whole setup should not, under any circumstances, work.

Caitlin nodded.  “It’s like a Devisor fusion reactor.  It works, but not on any principle recognized by science, or even sanity.  Hence why you can’t just replicate it and use it like you could if, say, a gadgeteer was doing the work.  Hell, even the gadgeteers can’t make heads or tails of most devisor crap.”

Sam nodded and re-sealed the cage behind them manually.  “This school is going to take some getting used to.  Every time I think I have a handle on it, something new crops up to throw my perceptions.”

“That’s what happens.  Every time you think you’ve seen it all, someone hits you with something born on the far side of Flemdar.  This school’s not for those with severe problems coping with changes.”

“As you have found out.”

Caitlin got a dark look.  “Yeah, so I’m assuming Delarose clued you in?”

“Sort of.  Most of the clues, you gave me.  You really suck at hiding who you are to anyone with the right frame of reference.”

“Wonderful.  So you know me, you know my buddies, which means you’re probably clued into some of the knee-deep shit we were usually slogging through in the Corps.”

Sam nodded.  “Hence why I say you suck at hiding things.”

“Wonderful.  Then there’s you.  You don’t look familiar, you don’t act like any of the mixed bag of hood-rats and god’s honest girlfriends who hung out around the M-SOC barracks, but you do know entirely too much.  How?”

Sam nodded and leaned against the energy weapon racks and started talking.  “Well, like you, I’m a lot older than I look.  Unlike you I never worked for Colonel MacPhearson.”

“God, you had to mention that fucking bitch.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d at least show some respect for rank.”

“Fuck no.”  Caitlin got a bit heated.  “That bitch did everything she could to make our lives hell.  Bad recruits, delays on processing leave blocks, denials of same.  She made sure that each of us was processed out of the Corps with a re-enlistment code that ensured we would never wear any uniform in the states again, and convinced the med-board to refuse all seven of us anything resembling medical disability pay, even though Prison Bitch started developing a degenerative nerve problem from an energy blast he survived, and Me, Worm, Heckel and Jeckel all left with some severe fucking mental problems, all of which require continuous medication.  Fuck her.  Fuck her rank.  The only respect I’ll give her is for the fact that she’s damned good in a fight.  That’s it.”

Sam wasn’t expecting that.  Her opinions aside, she was staring at one of the few people who could even match a quarter of her decorations.  She knew, as Hive drew up Erik Mahren’s old military record, that he was the recipient of two Navy Crosses, three Silver stars, four Bronze Stars, and a host of other awards, including two purple hearts.  All of them classified, except for the fact that she’d been the one to recommend the medals for the team on at least three occasions, even if they were a pack of unruly psychos who’s presence in an operating theater virtually guaranteed a severe SNAFU for any other operations in the area.

Caitlin closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to yell at you.  It’s not your fault.  I just don’t like talking about anything I did after I left Gunny Bardue’s company.”

“Feel better?”

“No.  I still have nightmares and flashbacks from that time period, and the medication stopped working on me about a week ago, something about a severe change in physiological makeup.  Basically the docs saying they don’t know what the fuck is up.  Hell, I can’t even use beer to drown the nightmares out anymore.  Not for lack of trying.”

Sam nodded.  “Why did MacPhearson hate you so much?”

“Because we were the only seven ‘baseline’ riflemen who could hang with the mutants there, partially.  Partially because she convinced herself, and good portions of her command that we were a buncha Humans First! militants in uniform.”  Caitlin looked up.  “Hell, getting the job here was a fight and a half.  MacPhearson had some choice words with Carson about me after she found out I was under consideration for a job.  Basically took all my bad traits and magnified them, trying to convince Carson that I’d be a danger and a liability to the students and staff.”

“You told Carson your side didn’t you?”

“Had to.  By the time I’d gotten to that point, it was really a choice between shooting myself because, unlike my buddies, I couldn’t hold down any kind of job that would pay enough to keep me fed, housed and medicated, or taking the Syndicate up on an employment offer to train Sabretooths.  I think I’d rather starve to death than do the latter.  Dropping the truth to Carson, and Gunny Bardue backing me up all the way were the only reasons I got hired, and even then she watched me like a hawk for two years.”

Sam frowned.  On one hand, she could understand why Caitlin had leaked the classified information on what she’d done to Carson, but she’d violated a host of laws and regulations in doing so.

Caitlin recognized the look on Sam’s face.  “Yeah, I violated security.  Fortunately for you, there’s nothing you have to do about it.  Erik Mahren’s dead, or as good as.  He’s been officially dumped into the deepest hole in ARC forever, and my prospects aren’t very good either.  Odds are I’m fucked within the next two or three years.  My life-expectancy isn’t what one would call high right now.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.  But I can’t really say I had much choice at that point.  I was on the verge of robbing a bank, letting it go bad, and getting caught so I could have three hots and a cot for the rest of my life.”

Sam winced.  She’d heard of things like that, but never had to face someone who’d been forced into that point.  “And you managed to hold onto the job here?”

“Yeah, turns out I was good at it.  I had my rocky bits at first, as apparently it’s not kosher to shoot flyers that hover for too long with rock salt to illustrate tactical stupidity.”

“Ok that sounds more like the you I knew.”

“Speaking of which, spill.  How the hell do you know me?  I’m pretty sure I’d recognize a hot blonde in a security uniform.”

Sam smirked.  “I’m Rear Admiral Samantha Everhart, formerly of the U.S. Navy SEALs.”

Caitlin looked at her skeptically.  “Sorry, but the only SEAL I ever heard with that name was a crusty old fart of a captain who...”  Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Hah.  I wish.  This body is a replica of my daughter’s before she died in a car wreck.”

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.”

 ”Listen, Cait, I can see it in you.  I saw it in the service when we worked together and it’s still there.  You’re carrying a chip around on your shoulder the size of Rhode Island and you provoke people to knock it off.”

“Yeah, and?”

“You’re not that cocky son of a bitch anymore.  You’re a 14 year old girl.  It’s breaking up your camo.”

Caitlin looked exasperated.  “Sixteen, and I don’t know how to act like a sixteen-year-old-girl, hell I don’t even know how to act like a sixteen-year-old guy!”

“A little louder please, I don’t think Fubar heard you in the Hawthorne.”  Sam sighed.  “Okay, left field time.  Have you checked out your body privately?”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow.  “Kinda private, don’t you think?”

“Well, after quite a few years of marriage I know that women are emotional creatures and it is a form of release.  Who knows it might help.”

Caitlin shook her head in the negative.  “No.  I haven’t been able to bring myself to anything resembling that in about a month and a half.”

“You might want to.  It is something to be experienced.”

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s too soon ok?  I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Sam looked at her skeptically.  “You’ve been female for how long now?”

“Two weeks, give or take.  Maybe three.  I haven’t been paying much attention to that.”

Sam shook her head.  “Well, maybe it was three weeks before it happened to me...  Then there was that girl...  Not that my history matters, you need to find a vent other than picking on recruiters.  You keep making it hard on them they may start showing up armed with more than a flash-bang, and if they do, it will put the neutrality of the school in jeopardy.”

“Been doing that for years, just for a way to unwind, and being female’s the least of my problems.  If it were that simple I’d be fucking thrilled.”

“It took me changing into my daughter to wake up to my problems and that took a long time.”

“It’s too soon, ok...  Wait.  How long have you been working here?”  Caitlin’s exasperated melted to thoughtful after a moment.

“Since the week of Thanksgiving.”  Sam got curious for a moment, but continued, “even then I wasn’t officially on the clock.”

“That explains it.  I was still cooped up in the sheds when you got here.  You familiar with what happened on Halloween?”

Sam shook her head slightly.  “Other than some deep stuff happened I’ve not looked too closely at the files, I’ve had other things on my plate.”

Cait sighed and started talking.  “I was on duty that night with my Fiancée, Cat McQuiston.  Me and her went off the clock and decided to be out here when the school got hit and we got the distress call.”

Hive helpfully brought up the Whateley personnel file on Cat McQuiston, and Sam read quickly.  She simultaneously wanted to sympathize and slap the shit out of the moping girl as she read on.  Sympathy because she knew what it was like to lose loved ones and have the pain still be raw.  Slapping the shit out of the girl was pretty high on the list because Sam knew exactly who she was dealing with, even if not everyone on Whateley was aware of it.  A split-second later, she went for the second option without waiting for the rest of the story.

Caitlin reeled and hit a gun rack as Sam’s backhand rocked her back.  Sam just started yelling.  “You think you’re the only one who’s lost?  You lost one!  I lost hundreds.  Men, women, children!  You are such a whiner.”  Sam steeled herself for the windup, as if she was right, this might hurt.  If she was wrong, Caitlin might just fold up and break.  “Every serviceman under my command who went out and died under my orders was my responsiblity.  Every soldier I trained to be a sniper who ended up dying.  My responsibility!  You have problems.  Get a grip, You got it easy.  If you ever had to send a man on a mission that you knew he’d not be coming back from and you couldn’t help it. Then I might believe it.  Till then Tie a knot in and stop whining ‘my pussy hurts!”

She was right.  Caitlin’s return right hook and left cross missed Sam by about a centimeter each time as the ex-SEAL got some distance from the suddenly angry “teenager.”  Weirdest thing was the oddball runed eyes were glowing, not the whole things, but the runes were rapidly reddening, and filling in like they were containers for molten metal with an angry orange glow.

“Like Hell!”  Caitlin could scream like a banshee, Sam noted idly, watching the reaction.  “You think you’re the one who had the big fucking burden?  Fifty-two Marines, most of them barely out of fucking High School broken and dead, bleeding out because we weren’t able to train him the right way!  Men, women and children caught in grazing fire because we had to bag the target or fucking die!  Don’t you dare fucking lecture me about losses!  You commanded it, I got to fucking live it!”

“Yeah, yeah I read the reports Princess, boo-hoo.  I was there for a few of those, remember?”  Sam smiled inside slightly.  So there was still a fire burning in there after all.  It was time to stoke the flames.  “Panama, one shot ricochet and I personally killed 150 inocent men, women and children.  Because I missed.  They had done nothing other than build their village too close to a drug dealer.”

Caitlin snapped back instantly, “Samin villiage.  One shot, 134 kills when the target fucking exploded!”  She wasn’t aware of the subtle shifts as the old memories she’d been blocking out of her mind had been slipping in, mingling with old memories, and making details fuzzy.  She wouldn’t realize till much later that the Samin villiage died eight-hundred years prior.

Sam blinked at that.  She’d never even heard of a Samin Villiage.  Maybe, sounded somehow familiar.  This wasn’t working, and she’d forgotten that Caitlin as Mahren had, in her own special way, ridden into and out of hell more times than most people ever would.  Not nearly as many times as Sam had, but scars were scars.  She needed a way through to the damned fool, not a going-nowhere screaming match. 

She stalked forward, and hit Caitlin again.  A scuffle broke out, and both wound up slamming each other into gun racks a few times while Caitlin screamed at her in a language Hive couldn’t even guess at the origin of.  A few shocks, some hypothermia and one insane handgun turning into something resembling modern art from Caitlin’s aura later, and Sam held her immobilized against the cage door.  As strong and brutal as she could be, Caitlin still kind of sucked in hand-to-hand compared to the real pros.

“Listen!”  Sam hissed in her ear.  “There was one mission I got roped into I didn’t act as a sniper.  I entered a villa and snapped a little girls neck in her own bedroom.  I found that I liked the killing!  If I hadn’t had the Navy and my family to remind me of the shame of what I had just done, I’d have kept going.  If you keep going like this, you’re going to prove her right.  You’re going to prove MacPhearson right!  You’re going to become the creature MacPhearson says you, and your buddies are because you can’t get yourself under control!  You can’t even hold it together enough to speak English!”

Caitlin stopped moving.  She barely breathed as the words sank in.  She stopped resisting and let Sam slip away, slumped against the wall she had been pinned against.

Sam let the final nail slam home.  “What would Cat think?”

Caitlin started shivering, trying to get her breathing under control as her thoughts coalesced.  Cat dying, her blacking out on Halloween and waking up in an infirmary room, bandaged up and shaking off the sedatives.  She could just picture Cat’s disapproving stare in her mind’s eye, almost as if she was still there.

Sam looked at the silent girl against the wall.  “Take the day, off from security.  I’ll sign you out.”  She turned and walked out of the room, tracking her path back to Kane hall, leaving Caitlin alone with her thoughts, yet again.

Sam knocked on Delarose’s door and waited when she arrived.  After a few seconds she heard the muffled “Enter.” and went inside, shutting the door behind her.  Delarose looked up at her face, which had a large shiner developing and healing rapidly.  “I take it you and Caitlin are done on patrol?”

“Yeah.  I’ll be signing her out.  I hope to Christ I got through to her, because she’s about on the verge.”

“Wonderful.  So I take it she’ll be sporting matching bruises then?”

Sam shook her head.  “No, she’ll have a few more than that.  But we might want to keep an eye on her.  I’m not sure if the wake-up call I threw into her face will take or if she’ll snap.”

Delarose leaned back in his chair.  “What’s your gut tell you?”

“My gut tells me she’s going to get mad.”

Hank was the first one up of the Kimbas, and Toni found him checking the schedule again for his name in the Combat Finals on the common-room board.  Unlike most of the other residents of Poe, he shared one thing in common with Fey, Chou, Tennyo in that none of them seemed to be scheduled for Combat Finals.  Chaka’s had seemed like a last-minute thing, and that little run had been insane!

“Morning Hank!”  Unlike her elfin roommate, Chaka was a morning person.  Hell, she was also an afternoon and evening person.  It seemed that very little could break through her cheerful and happy-go-lucky attitude.

“Morning Toni.”  Hank yawned.  “I still can’t believe you actually used an atomic wedgie as a martial-arts maneuver.”

“Hey!  Nephandus had it coming!”

“Yeah, but that high-pitched whine he let out when you did it was kind of disturbing.”

Toni grinned.  ”Music to my ears.”

Hank chuckled.  “Looks like they still forgot me, Fey, Chou and Tennyo.”

“I doubt that.  You four are impossible to forget, no matter how hard I try!”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem, Lancer my good buddy.  After all, if I didn’t pick on ya, who would?”

Hank smirked.  “Well the Grunts are making a good go of it.”

“What, those military wannabes punks giving you shit?”

Hank looked thoughtful.  “Actually, they wanted to recruit me for their sim team.”

Chaka raised an eyebrow.  ““Ohhh, no.  There will be none of that!  You’re ours and those loony gun-monkeys ain’t getting you before we even have a chance to run the sims ourselves!”

“What are you two going on about?”  Tennyo, by contrast to Chaka, was not a morning person.  She was followed closely by the ever-maniacal Jade, who was still in the middle of a yawn.

“Those Gomer-wannabe Grunts are trying to poach our boy here!”

“What?”  Tennyo got a dark look.  “After Breaker came in here like that last night and he wants to run off with Hank?  Oh hell no.”

An angry argument started and Fey walked into the room, bleary-eyed and tired to the suddenly inflammatory conversation.  Ayla and Chou were right behind her.  “Hey, what’s going on?  Who is trying to brainwash Hank?”

“Those ridunkulous Grunt punks are trying to hijack Hank!”  Chaka was half-amused, half outraged as she spoke.

The conversation started again, and Hank finally had to stop it.  “Hey, hey hey!”  The other Kimbas looked at him as he held his hands up for calm.  “Chill.  I dunno if I’m going to take ‘em up on it, but they don’t expect me to quit the Kimbas.  Hell, Breaker said I’d be insane if I did.”

“Yeah, sure, after all I’d want an intelligence source on up-and-coming competition, too.”  Alya had a knack for coming up with Worst-Case scenarios.

“Would you calm down?”  Hank shook his head.  “Look.  They don’t want me to leave the Kimbas, hell Mule, Breaker and Deadeye are wondering if any of you are ‘available’ as they put it.  I told them no.”  He held up a hand to forestall the inevitable protests.  “And for the record, last night Breaker indicated that if I did give info between teams, it’d be a buddy fucker maneuver, and the other five subtly indicated that it’d be best not to share info between teams about Sim tactics.”

“Subtly?  Subtly?”  Chou actually laughed.  “I’ve seen the Grunts’ idea of subtle!  These guys think throwing a rock at your head is a subtle indicator that they don’t like you.  And the stories people tell about the pranks in Melville?  Yeah.  Damn.”

Hank chuckled and nodded.  “Ok, so yeah, they’re about as subtle as a runaway Mack truck.  Thing is, my Dad actually sent a letter requesting they grab me when I got here.  Breaker and Deadeye being who they are, decided keeping an eye out for how I was doing would probably be for the best.  They like what they see.”

Nikki was thoughtful, “Mule and Bunker have been helpful as well.  They’ve been doing some patrols around Weretown for the last week and have apparently ferreted out a few more of the Voodoo-wolves.”  Nikki sighed and shook her head.  “Remind me to hex Jericho.  His irreverent manner of referring to things seems to rub off a little too easily.”

Jade smirked.  “Nah, just take him in hand-to-hand.  I beat him most of the time in Aikido.”

Everyone smirked.  It was a well-known fact that Jericho was still somewhat sub-par in the fisticuffs department, and lacked any real equalizing powers native to his form.  However, that being said, one had to watch out for the gadgets and insanity that he always seemed to have squirreled away for a rainy day.

Hank looked at Fey.  “Yeah the Outcasts are entertaining, and Jericho and Razorback are good against those Voodoo-things.  Good, but we need more backup if we’re gonna win this.  I would strongly suggest you go speak to Breaker or Deadeye about what the deal is.”

“Why, so they can take control of the fight for the greater glory of their stupidity?”  Chaka didn’t think much of the so-called simulator champs.

Hank turned to look at her.  “No, they’re twitching at the trigger to start shooting the Voodoo-bastards.  All right, here’s what happened last night...”

Creepy walked into the impromptu early-morning gaming session with the Astral Squad with a sour look on his face.  A.D. and Louis were both there, Louis making one of his rare appearances as the Game Master at their accustomed spot in the Library.  Weaver noted with some annoyance that the source of his irritation sat a few tables away, reading one of the mystic texts and taking notes as though all was well in the world.

“You look like you just chewed on something sour,” Heyoka remarked lightly as Creepy sat down.

“Yeah, well I’m getting tired of playing babysitter to our astral nightmare looking for a place to happen over there.”  He jerked his head at Diamondback.  “Come January she’s going to be loose, no way of getting around it.  It’s already taking two or three sessions a day with the bindings to keep her locked and she’s still not fully stabilized.”

Fubar nodded mildly.  He looked ridiculous in a flowing robe and a blue cone-hat with white stars on it.  He took Gamer Nerd to the extreme when he joined in.  “And add to this she’s actually been harassed by some of the more piddly spirits around Campus of late and we have some issues.  She’s getting too strong to keep locked down.”

A.D. nodded.  “Any advice on how to handle this one?”

Fubar nodded.  “Bind her one last time right before she goes to Australia for Christmas break.  After that it’s all in her hands.  She might get enough of a reprieve to enjoy the holiday right before she comes uncorked.”

Heyoka looked over at the snake-girl musingly.  “Yeah, hey on a similar note, has anyone had a good look at that girl she hangs out with of late, the one with the flashy lightshow aura?”

Valkyrie nodded.  “Yeah, I have.  It’s fucking unnerving.”  She paused while all of the astral kids nodded.  “Her spirit looks like some guy shackled and chained, screaming and cursing like a storm.  I’ve poked, but DAMN.  Whatever’s up with her, it’s tearing up the astral landscape around her something fierce.  Most of the loose spirits run like hell out of her path and she shredded two rune-wards just by walking through them.”

A.D. sighed.  “Yeah, I’ve noticed as well, and there hasn’t been a thing I’ve been able to do with her.  She doesn’t perceive us, and it’s like a reverse-avatar.  A possession or something’s going on.  Me’n Artefact tried to break the spirit loose and eject it, but it’s got her tight.”

Fubar glowered.  “Much as I dislike saying it, she’s off-limits.  No interfering with her, no dirty looks, and no more attempting to exorcize her.  If you succeed it’ll kill her outright.  She’s a fighter, and she might actually beat it.  Heyoka does your Guardian have anything to say about her?”

Jamie considered carefully, weighing the fact that talking about Thunderbird was something s/he didn’t like doing against the odd reactions T-Bird gave at the absolute astral havoc the girl created in her wake.  “I can’t get much out of him.  About the best way I can put it is whenever I ask, or try to do something it’s all guilty looks and shame on his part, like he had something to do with it.  Other’n that he keeps saying that what she wants most is in her power and all she needs to do is look to her past and she’ll find it or something.”

Fubar grew thoughtful.  “All right.  Ladies and gents, I need to run my happy self over to talk to Circe and Chulkris.  It looks like our game is going to have to wait.  Have fun at Combat Finals.”  He paused, and looked at his charges.  “Valk, good work on your final by the way.  I expect that you’ll do better next time, and sometimes losing can teach you a lot more than winning.  Heyoka, nice work.  Mr. Anderson may not have approved, but your victory speech brought a tear to me eye.”

Jamie grinned.  “Hey, Next time I plan to release the robot zombies while I cackle maniacally.”

“You do that.”

Breakfast was a fast affair, and Diamondback looked on as her friends began trickling in.  The Fury twins hadn’t shown up, something about intercepting Belphegor and giving him a present for Jobe.  Whatever it was couldn’t be good.  Jericho and Razorback showed up late, and she idly wondered if they’d been up running early.  Jericho had that “just exercised” look to him as he ripped his plate apart with a gusto rivaling her and Razor.

“So.  How did it go?”  She talked as the boys ate.

“How’d what go?”  Jericho was playing dumb, oh joy of joys.

“This big seekrit skwirrel bullshit you two have been about for the last week or so.  And don’t feed me any shit this time because you both smell like blood.  Again, I can taste it on you.”

“That’s just creepy when you do that, you know.”  Jericho sighed as he recognized Diamond’s ‘You will answer me’ posture, punctuated by the crossed arms and glare.  “Fine.  We been helping the Weres that Whateley leases the property from.  They’ve been under siege by some asstick they call ‘The Bastard’ that’s been pulling some straight demonic shit and turning them into real monsters, not just what all the paranoids say they are.”

“And you never asked for my help, why?”

Razorback signed, -Because of what happened to a pair of state troopers who got caught in the crossfire.  They went bugnuts crazy just from looking at the damned things, and the poisons turned them into something straight from a Lovecraft novel.  I’m protected somehow, probably has to do with me being a rager, and Jericho’s blind, so he’s not exactly susceptible.-

“So it’s just you two?”

Jericho sighed.  “No.  We’ve been working with Fey and a few of the Kimbas.  A good bunch of them have protection from it, and Fey seems to know a lot more about the damned things.  Add Mule, Bunker and Sara Waite and you have a party of mayhem looking for a place to happen.  So far we’ve managed to keep the casualties down.”

“Mule and Bunker?  Ok I’m aware that Mule’s probably the most heavily mystically and psychically shielded guy out there but Bunker’s able to fight them without going weirder?  And yet you still didn’t ask me?”

Both boys looked at each other and then at Diamond before they both nodded.

“Ah, and you guys didn’t want my mind damaged, so sweet.  Wake up for a minute and please remember that dear, sweet Bunker of the pageboy-blonde locks and foulness of mouth is a Package-Deal-Psychic.”  She looked at the two boys’ confusion and cursed the teachers of Devisors and Speedsters for not getting them to understand other types of power.  “You twits, she’s shielding!  It’s one of the first things mages and Psychics, and empaths have to learn to protect themselves!  It’s one of the few things outside of healing and illusions that I can do with anything resembling speed and skill.  Hel-lo!  You never wondered why me and Bunker never seem to go anywhere in our fights if one of us doesn’t pull a Johnny-one-shot in the opener?”

Jericho blinked, and blinked again, comprehension dawning as Razorback promptly started banging his head on the table, furious at himself because he knew better!

“Sandra, Jack, I’ll be back in one second.  Bear with me.”  Jericho hopped up and started wandering towards his targets, tapping away with his blind-man’s cane.

All conversation at the Team Kimba table ceased when a horror composed of dreadlocks, plaid golf pants complete with a kilt in Whateley school colors (also plaid) and a T-shirt reading “The man” with an arrow pointing straight up, and “the legend” with an arrow pointing straight down, and tie-dyed over the rest of it plopped unceremoniously next to Jade, who took one look at Jericho’s wardrobe and started giggling.  Tennyo stopped, mid-chewing and smirked.

Chaka looked over and her face screwed up in horror.  “Oh...My...God!  Who dresses you in the morning, the fashion disaster fairy?”

“Nah, she had the day off.  I had to make do on my own.”

“We have so got to get you to Boston and get you some real clothing.”

“What, and ruin my ensemble?”  He turned to Jade.  “I hear you have a line on Hello Kitty gear.  Find me a good mix in my size and I will pay you well.  No skirts.”  He thought or a minute and the horrific ramifications ran through his mind at speeds calculated as ludicrous.  “Ok, maybe one or two.”

Jade grinned evilly, and whispered loudly and conspiratorially.  “Ok, but I can’t give out my sources.  Everyone else is looking to kill my supplier.”

“Gotcha.  I’ll make sure security’s occupied elsewhere so they can’t interfere with the shipment.”

The rest of the Kimbas sat staring with mute horror as the full implications to the nutty devisor’s wardrobe sank in fully.

Jericho looked up and grinned.  “Ok, side business, completed.  I’m actually here to speak to you, Miss Reilly.”  He couldn’t see her so clearly as everyone else but he dearly wished for a camera to capture forever the look of stupefied horror in her features.  Unfortunately Fey, rather like the others, was suffering the full horror of the mental image of Jericho decked out in Hello Kitty splendor.

“Hello!  Earth to Elfy!  Wakey wakey!”

“I think she’s in shock, dude.”  Hank was eyeballing Jericho’s attire like it might eat him.

“I guess I’m just too sexy for words.  However...”  Jericho grimaced as he used his ‘whack the elf back to reality’ tactic.  “We went to visit Weretown last night.  We had voodoos in the bushes.  They tried to run off with some of the local yokels.”

“What?”  That got her attention, and that of all the other Kimbas, too.

“I said...  Weretown.  Voodoos.  Attack.  No Casualties.”

“Why didn’t anyone call me?”  Nikki’s eyes were wide and looked a bit more than upset.

“Didn’t have the time.  It was all over in less than ten and no one was in the clear to get the message out.  Don’t worry, no serious injuries, nothing me and the Were healers couldn’t handle.”

Nikki breathed a sigh of relief.  “Thanks for the information Jericho.”

“No problem.  However, the reason I’m here is I need someone who can teach Diamondback how to shield against the insanity that the voodoos bring.”

“I can do that.”

Jericho nodded.  “Soon, please.  Just bear in mind that Diamond’s really damned smart and don’t try to dumb things down for her and you’ll get along fine.”

Nikki nodded.

Jericho stood up and smirked.  “Just do me a favor.  Don’t screw with her.  I don’t want to have to see her crying again.”  He left without waiting for a reply.

“Geez, unfriendly much?”  Chaka snorted when the blind boy left. 

Nikki shook her head.  “No, just overprotective.  He doesn’t trust many people.”

Jade rolled her eyes.  “We’re the pretties and his best friends are GSD.  Heavy GSD.  There tends to be a pattern of getting burned by the pretty people that seems to run with their type.”

“More Faction Three wisdom?”  Chaka asked.

“Actually, Faction Three’s the wrong crowd to get info on that crew.”  Jade shrugged.  “They apparently want little to do with Faction Three, less to do with Thuban, and seem content to ignore your standard social rules.  From what little I hear they tend to either go it by themselves or hang with some of the less actively destructive Ultraviolents and Thornies.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah, that’s a good description.”

Caitlin walked towards the Crystal Hall after she burned out most of the temper eruption that followed Little Miss Security Hellion’s ever-so-fun speech.  There was surely a special place in Hell reserved for people like Samantha Everhart.  Caitlin’s face had a bruise big and black enough to indicate that she’d been railed hard on her right cheek, and her jaw hurt.  She felt like her forehead had been banged against a concrete floor, which it had, and like her arm had almost been dislocated.  This was minor, as she’d been hurt worse having fun.

The commentary, however, had been painful and unwelcome.  Hell, Caitlin hadn’t even had a chance to finish explaining how she felt before the bitch had absolutely ripped her up one side and down the other with no respect for her, or Cat.  Never mind she’d acted all high and mighty about everything, treating her like a pissed-off child who’d gotten her toys taken away.  However, this wasn’t the thing that brought Caitlin’s temper well past pissed and into white-hot fury.  What truly, utterly and unequivocally made her rage inside was simple.

The bitch was right.

She’d spent the last month and a half wallowing in self-pity, running on autopilot and not doing anything to move forward.  The realization in itself was far more galling than Sam’s very professional, infantry-style ass-chewing, complete with bruises.  The fact that she’d let her life go to shit while letting herself go back to her old habits of just soaking the pain while doing nothing about it was nothing short of enraging to her.  She was better than that!  She hadn’t taken shit from life or person since she bounced out of her hometown in Alaska and joined the military.

The results of the pure, frustrated rage that had overtaken her had been the total destruction of two punching bags and three practice ANTS in one of the arena 77 warm-up rooms, and about an hour of screaming bloody murder.  Now she wandered into the Crystal Hall after her towering, cathartic, screaming rage had cooled off to a burning desire to hunt down the wayward security officer and eviscerate her.  In other words she was once again safe to approach by most people.

As she entered many people gave her a wide berth, as the burning runes in her eyes gave testament to the fact that she was not happy, and the energy corona that flickered and zapped while she moved was nearly continuous, motion or not.  The few insects surviving the winter in the Crystal hall found themselves attracted to the light, and found their end seconds thereafter as the energy arced to consume them.  Caitlin kept her distance from the other students as she forced herself to calm down, and the empaths in the house stopped giving her such wide-eyed looks.

Once she sat down at the accustomed seat she started collecting her thoughts.  Three things occupied her mind, the first being Cat’s death.  She needed to snake some time to go visit the gravesite and say her good-byes, something she’d been putting off over and over.  Accepting the fact that she was gone might let her move on.  The second was the Artificer dilemma.  Screw this tiptoeing through the tulips bullshit, it was time to face this instead of hide from it and she was going to find a solution, no matter what she had to ransack to get it.  The third was finding dear, sweet little Miss Everhart and thanking her for the wakeup call.

Caitlin kept the option of using a baseball bat spiked with jagged, razor-edged obsidian shards for said thanking open as an option.

The Outcasts were gone, presumably to watch the arena fight.  This suited Caitlin just fine.  She needed to collect her thoughts, eat some food, and make plans.

“No, dude!  I’m telling you that girl over there is an Artificer!  She fits the description, the profile, the needing to be locked in wards and everything!”  Nephandus spoke to his reluctant cohort Techno-Devil as the two stared across the gulf.  “My father made me memorize the signs so I could recognize and capture one of them if I ever found one.  She’s the Third, the female Artificer that wasn’t destroyed!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Jay-Arm.  Big artificer.”  Techno-Devil was unimpressed.  “So she can make magic items.  So can we.  Whoop-de-fucking-doo.”

Nephandus sighed, and leaned over.  “Look, we don’t build strictly magic items, and you know it.  We just happen to be Devisors who know enough about magic to mesh the two powers.  She can build magic items with the raw power to raise armies, level cities, or just enhance our own work!”

Nephandus was bubbling over with excitement, and Techno-Devil sighed.  “All right Techno-Dweeb, yes, I called you Techno-Dweeb.  First, how are we supposed to capture her?  Second, how the hell do we control her?  Third, she hangs out with Jericho and Razorback, both of whom would feel no mercy in their hearts for either of us on general principle, much less if we screw with their friend.  Fourth, how would we keep little miss hot shit over there from eviscerating you when you put the moves on her?  I mean she’s nice eye-candy but I don’t think she’ll just melt before your charm.”

The overly excited bad joke of Devisor shop considered carefully.  “Remember that hypnosis spell that I put into that focus crystal for Fey?”

“Oh come on Neph!  That thing failed miserably!”

“How was I supposed to know she wouldn’t be affected by a simple glamour?”

“Because she’s actually one of the funky-ass Sidhe elves that dad frequently reminds me and Jadis not to screw with?”

“Ok fine, that’s beside the point.  This Artificer isn’t a Sidhe, hell she isn’t even human.  All the books say she’s a bloody construct, and a docile one to boot.  She’s just stone and magic, without much in the way of free will.  Hell, we could probably just order her to follow us and she’d likely do it.  A little subtle hypnosis can’t hurt.”

Techno nodded.  “Ok, this is starting to sound like something doable.  So how do we beat the Razorback/Jericho angle?  I’m not so much worried about Jericho.  He’s no Slapdash or Mega-Death in the battle-construction department.  But I am worried about Razorback.  That stinking rager’s about as mindlessly destructive as they come, and I don’t want to have to deal with him.”

Nephandus rolled his eyes.  “It’s Razorback.  Duh.  A little sonic lovetap and he’s out of commission.  Besides, chickadee over there doesn’t live near those two, so we can probably just tag her alone on her way to Hawthorne.  After that we disappear while I apply some tattoo magic and we have a nice, obedient servant bound to my will, rather like Cav and Sky to the Don.”

“You will, huh?  What do I get out of this?”

Nephandus smiled.  “Access to probably the best mystic forge-wright in the world.  Add to this Artificers know how to transmute materials, including core magic materials like Mithril and Orichalcum.  I think a couple pounds of each might do wonders for your inventions.”

Techno-Devil turned and looked at Nephandus with a look of pure greed in his eyes.  “All right, Neph, you got yourself a deal.  Let’s do this tonight, before anyone catches wind of it.”

“Agreed.  The faster, the better.  Meet me near the Thorny Freakshow House tonight after the arena stuff is over.  We’ll get set up there.”

“And how do we deal with Fubar?”

Nephandus grinned and pulled out a simple amulet.  “Easy money.  Simple charms that will make him overlook us in the static.”

Techno-Devil nodded and the two boys watched the Artificer girl with some subtlety, staying in the Crystal hall with visions of riches and power dancing in their heads.

Cloaked by invisibility a rather plain-looking girl stood above the two scheming boys as they planned their little kidnapping.  The stupid things her baby brother would agree to...

Jadis, the She-Beast remained cloaked and quiet as the boys detailed their plot, and brainstormed options.  Idly she wondered if the two twits could pull it off.  She needed intel before she decided to interfere in what was surely another of her brother and Neph’s hair-brained schemes.

A Whateley Academy Story

Call The Thunder

By Joe Gunnarson and the Whateley Crew

Chapter 4:  The Beatings will Continue Until Morale Improves!

 

Tuesday, December 12th, 2006

Ito looked at the massed audience of students gathered in Arena 99 for the excitement.  He smiled evilly as Punch, Lancer’s normal sparring partner knocked Jobe’s lights out.  It was a red-letter day for the pudgy brick girl as she managed to walk away from a victory with quite probably the most arrogant, revolting and despicable student in school.  Jobe, the notorious Bio-Devisor had underestimated the girl, and had to be wheeled out after she’d shrugged off the effects of the toxic goodies he’d arranged for the bout.  She’d barely been left standing and able to fight, or even use the spindle to confirm her victory, but she pulled it off by the skin of her teeth.

As she was helped out of the arena, Ito spoke into the pickup he had clipped to his suit.  “Ladies and gentlemen.  It is time to explain the purpose of last night’s battle between Chaka, Silo, Nephandus and Bravo.  Please remain in your seats and maintain silence while Gunny Bardue of the Crisis Simulation Team explains that and several upcoming matches over the week.”

Gunny Bardue stepped into view wearing the traditional garb of a Marine Corps Drill Instructor.  The sixty-plus year old African-American put forth the reality of what intimidation should be.  “All right kids, listen up!  For those of you who were here for the battle royale last night we have a special treat for you all.”  His strong voice almost didn’t need the amplifier pickups to be heard, as he knew how to project. 

“In the real world, the battles you think you’ll be fighting are not necessarily going to be the ones you will find yourself involved in.  This is why we have the Crash, a set of exercises geared to illustrate the difficulties we face in the world outside of Whateley Academy.  Each year, two or three teams are chosen, and certain members hand-selected to illustrate something we, the staff, believe you all need to consider in the future.  In the Crash, anything goes.  Multiple opponents, odd situation, complete changes in the rules of the game and opponents who are NOT your fellow students are all part of this event.  This means should we deem it necessary, we will place a lone Freshman against a small pack of Seniors, or a SWAT Team, or if we’re feeling particularly froggy, one of your instructors.”

Bardue paused.  “Now, in the interest of moving things along allow me to address the teams.  From each team we have hand-selected some of the members to participate in the Crash, and their opponents.  This is not a team versus team thing, but a series of extremely difficult tests.  To the junior members of the Capes, the Wild Pack and the Grunts, you have been the standard set for the Crash for the past four years.  You will not be participating as our primary subjects in the Crash events this year.”  Bardue paused again as the murmuring started.  “And now I give you the two teams from which we have hand-selected our Crash subjects.  TEAM KIMBA!  OUTCAST CORNER!  Welcome to the Crash!”

Bardue grinned evilly as both of the freshman teams looked like deer in headlights, including Caitlin, whom he saw freeze as she was walking down the aisle to her new friends.  The students were standing, craning their heads for a look at the two teams who would be suffering the wrath of the Combat Finals, trying to guess which ones would be dropped into the hotseat.

“You’re a rotten old bastard Bardue!!!”  He couldn’t see the person yelling, but he could guess, as it sounded male.  And blind.  He gave his most patently evil grin.

“Your hatred only feeds my power.”  He turned and nodded to Ito and got the nod from the Japanese man.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, for our second Crash event, in the spirit of the martial arts victory of Chaka in our Disaster Zone Scenario, I give you our one independent Crash subject.  BLADEDANCER!  Get to the Arena!  NEX!  Get down here!  Let’s see what you got.”

Bardue grinned in a way that would later be described as demonic in a way even Sara Waite would have been hard-pressed to mimic.  “Watch the screens.  We’re going to have a night-fight.”

The monitors that allowed close-up views of the arena shifted, then seemed to glow as a thermographic image of the battlefield was displayed, showing all the various points of heat in the arena.

 

 

The Kimbas sat, mouths agape at Bardue’s pronouncement, looking at each other with shock while Chaka grinned ferally.  Chou stood shakily, a little pale.  Jade wasn’t present at the moment, having gone to collect some of her things in preparation to go visit that mad doctor she had been introduced to by Thuban.

Hank gulped.  “I think I know why some of us haven’t been told when our combat finals are.”

Chou looked to her friends, and Chaka grinned at her.  “You get him, girl.  Nex won’t know what hit him.”

“Give him a swift one to the cujones for me,” Nikki added with some venom.  She hadn’t forgiven, or forgotten the ambush Nex had sprung on her.

Tennyo growled before she spoke.  “You got this Chou.  Show this ninja-punk wannabe what a real martial-artist can do.

“Trust in the Tao, Chou.  Nothing happens without a reason.”  Destiny’s wave spoke as she moved around the arena to the entrance of the battle area.

“I know, but why Nex?  I’ve never gone up against someone like him.”

“It does not matter.  Trust in yourself and use the resources you have been given and he cannot defeat you.”

The conversation broke as Chou found herself blocked by a tall, Amazon-like girl with steel-irised, rune-scripted eyes and metallic black hair that ran straight down her back to below her ribs.  The girl was standing in the aisle, and recoiled from her slightly, as though she recognized her.  The girl’s eyes flicked to the blade once and widened.  Something like fear tore through the girl’s features before she composed herself and nodded.  Chou reached for the Tao, maybe to learn something about why the girl recoiled and found nothing.

Destiny’s wave was oddly silent, and Chou saw, or rather felt, nothing from the girl save a wound, like she should be there but was not, a vortex of chaos, unpredictable and unreadable, like her destiny was unformed or missing, torn from her or dead.  It was unnerving as all get out.  Even demons had a presence in the web-pattern.  Then she remembered, the feeling of someone torn from the web as though screaming and fighting a while back and leaving a shadow-presence that wasn’t really there.  Well she seemed to have found the source.

She snapped back to reality as the girl spoke again.  The feral and hostile look on her face was unmistakable, but it wasn’t directed at her.  The odd girl pointed at her opponent, taking his leisurely time and spoke.  “Kick his ass, and I’ll send you and your buddies pizzas.  Nex is an overconfident braggart with a touch of Diedricks.  Get him mad and screaming and you own him.”  The voice the girl had was eerily familiar, and Chou turned her head to make sure it was, in fact, the girl and not Destiny’s Wave being cute by mimicking an American accent or not clipping her voice to the soft tones of a traditional Chinese woman.

Chou watched as the girl walked away towards Jericho and his pack of unruly GSD friends, as well as a surprising number of kids wearing the Ultraviolent protected armbands, also known as the Underdogs, or the Born Losers Club to the student body at large.  She was rubbing a spot above her right kidney as she walked away.

“DW?”

“Not now, Chou, we’ll talk about this later.  Now is not the time to discuss this, nor to act.”

Chou sighed and moved into the arena, drawing Destiny’s Wave and drawing her cloak around her.  She slid on a simple red and gold mask with a yin-yang symbol between the eyes and darted into the shadows as the lights seemed to dim, and the Arena cityscape took on the aspect of night.

 

 

Caitlin was unnerved by the girl with the sword.  She’d never seen Chou Lee up close but her appearance and face triggered memories and flashes that she hadn’t been aware of.  Flashes of past lives were becoming as much a part of her as the new body.  Most of the memories she could do without, as they dealt with her times under the thumbs of various mages and monsters as she slaved for them to create magic items that no mortal had any right holding.  Sometimes the flashes were of happy, contented lives, or from childhoods that weren’t hers.

This memory was of death, specifically, hers.  She’d seen that face, and blade before.  The memory was as poignant and painful as the one of Nex stabbing her above the kidney from behind.  The death didn’t bother her.  Quite frankly she felt each of the ends she’d faced in her past incarnations to be mercy of the highest order.  She also recognized the girl and blade that killed her in the mountains of China, God only knew how many years before.  The currents didn’t react to either one, flowing through them like they were merely more current flowing through reality.    

It was only the thought that this girl could end her should someone capture and bind her again that had kept her from panicking and running in terror.  She didn’t want to die, and would fight tooth and nail to prevent it, but it was reassuring to see someone who had struck her from the life of hell before and might do so again.  Mercy in any form, even death.

Caitlin sat down next to Sandra and looked up at the two MID cards.  They could not have been more different.

Code Name:	BLADEDANCER
Ratings::	Baseline Human, Tai-Chi,  Chinese Martial Arts
Techniques:	Chinese Sage-Blade, Weapons of Opportunity, Sweeping Strike, Shadowed blade, Stalker-strike
Weak vs.:	Normal human vulnerabilities.  No powers of note.
Backup/Team affiliation:	Independant/Team Kimba

 

Code Name:	Nex
Ratings::	ESP-3, PSI-3, TK-4
Techniques:	Cloak, Psiknife, Vortex, Eyebreaker, Doppleganger
Weak vs.:	Diedrick’s Disorder
Backup/Team affiliation:	Masterminds

 

 

Upon reflection, a night fight scenario suited her just fine.    Chou re-buttoned her Chinese-style cloak around her tightly and shivered slightly.  From all indications, if she was the only independent Crash subject, and Toni’s battle-royale with two maniacs and the world’s biggest joke of a mage, the rule of the Crash was anything goes.  That could be the only possible reason for her facing a junior, who was supposed to be facing other upper-classmen next week.

She huddled in a shadow under a supermarket, letting the power of the cloak slide over her, making her appear as nothing more than another shadow in the dark, nearly impossible to see.  She scanned her surroundings and took stock.  The storefronts and offices of one of Chicago’s many business districts made for an odd battlefield.  There were no bystanders other than the occasional drunk leaning against a store door, or the occasional human body wrapped in a blanket to simulate the night life, or lack thereof, of a darkened city street.  A lone police cruiser drifted down the road to the soft hum of a modern engine.

Chou got up and began moving from shadow to shadow, the cloak blurring her image and breaking up her outline.  While there was no way one could miss the rapidly flitting shadow moving from point to point the brief moments of immobility were enough to render her all but invisible to the naked human eye.  Surprisingly she reached the spindle completely unopposed.

 

 

Ayla spotted Nex in the thermographic imagers first.  He had circled around Chou with a leisurely lack of effort and was simply walking in the open behind her, following her trail.  His psychic invisibility trick couldn’t fool the mechanical sensors dotting the arena floor, or the cameras angled for the best view.  His posture was nothing short of contemptuous for the ridiculous baseline girl he was trailing, and he treated it like a leisurely stroll in a park during daylight.

“I really hope she smears him.”  Nikki growled fiercely.

“Well she’s not in a position to do much about him.  He’s right behind her and she doesn’t SEE him.”  Tennyo looked worried.  “I thought she was some kind of super-mystic.”

Nikki shook her head as Ayla spoke.  “Chou’s still getting used to the whole Tao thing.  I mean come on.  Mystic she may be and a helluva handful to boot, but we all know Nex can get the drop on mystics.”

Nikki thought back to the battle with the Voodoo-Wolves a few nights back.  “If she’s looking the right way, she’ll get him.  But I don’t know if she’s looking.”

Toni snorted.  “Even if she doesn’t spot him first, he’d have to cripple her on the first shot to put her down.  Once that girl gets rolling she gives me a rough time in sparring matches.”

“That’s just it,” the ethereal redhead said quietly, “He will probably do just that.”

Tennyo rolled her eyes.  “Oh come on, Nikki.  Quit being such a pessimist.  Chou’s going to turn him inside-out.”

Toni smiled.  “You’ve said it yourself, roomie, Nex is an overblown hackwit coward.  Give him solid resistance and he caves.  You worry too much.  We’ve seen what she can do, and Nex ain’t nearly as bad as some things.”

Nikki nodded as Chou activated the spindle, sending furtive glances as the strobing lights on the device announced that Bladedancer was beginning to fulfill the victory conditions.  “Maybe you’re right.  I worry a lot sometimes, but she’s a friend.”

“Friends don’t let friends get mopey, so quit over-thinking this bit and let’s just cheer our friends on.”  Toni looked down at the Arena floor.  “Besides, I don’t think Nex CAN win this one.”

“Oh?  And why is that, oh mighty mistress of hyper?”

“Because I said so.”

“Care to place money on that justification?”

Toni just grinned.

 

 

The conversation at the Outcast section was dead.  Four Outcasts, two Fury twins and a small army of Underdogs were watching with rapt fascination.  Even Razorback and Jericho were nearly praying that Bladedancer would really, really fuck Nex up.  The fact that he was a junior didn’t even enter into it.  The fact that the guy was a complete dick did.

Only Razorback noticed that Caitlin was leaning forward, watching the arena and not the screens, her posture was verging on violent, and her breath came in short spurts that sounded like soft growls to his ears.  The runes in her eyes, directed away from the others, were burning with an eerie, molten glow, as though the metal of her irises had superheated.

Diamondback, Phobos and Deimos watched on with eager, even violent expressions, so caught up in the moment and fascination that they didn’t realize that the storm of fury, hate, and rage they were feeling towards Nex wasn’t born of their hearts, but of the troubled girl sitting just a few seats away.

 

 

Nex watched patiently as the girl plugged in the last question, her finger hovering over the enter key as she took a look around and yet again failed to see him.  He was mildly amused by his own plan.  Let her finish, let her revel in her victory, and then snatch it away as she relaxed.  He’d plotted the strike perfectly, not a lethal one but she would never walk again, thus removing an unwanted baseline blemish on his school for the truly gifted.  He could afford a little more patience.

Chou’s finger struck the enter key and the spindle went dark, inert.  He noted Chou’s gasp as a single line of text displayed on the monitor.  He moved in closer and took a look, and puzzled over it for a minute before comprehension dawned.  Then the sword started talking.

 

 

‘SHOULDN’T YOU BE KICKING NEX’S ASS RIGHT NOW?’  Chou read and re-read the message on the screen with disbelief.  Then the reality sank in.

“I spy, with my lack of eyes...”  Destiny’s Wave was almost sing-song, like a child playing a game, “an IDIOT!  MOVE!”

Chou threw herself aside as Nex erupted beside her, hand swinging in a wide arc as a knife-blade of psychokinetic energy flashed into existence.  The strike passed through the spot where her spine had been seconds before.  Unfortunately it caught her rib, gashing her open as she darted away.  The suddenly visible junior tore through the spaces she chose to occupy like a mad tornado, not giving her any time to mount a defense or do much more than draw Destiny’s Wave.

Nex pressed his advantage mercilessly, eerily silent save for the obscene hum of the energy surrounding his hands as the knifehand strikes whipped through the air scant millimeters from her skin, sometimes drawing blood, sometimes not.  Chou was barely able to avoid the rapid-fire series of attacks by the skin of her teeth, finally drawing DW across to parry one of the knifehands.

The psychic energy leading the blades shattered and fizzled as Nex gashed his hand on the white-jade-blade.  With a hiss he threw himself back and vanished from her eyes.  She took the opportunity to reach for the Tao clumsily and began running.

She found herself following an odd track not entirely of her choosing as she pelted through alleyways, offices and vaulted over dumpsters and climbed fire escapes in a chaotically random non-pattern that took gross advantage of moving shadows that would cover her passage.  When she felt it was safe she stopped and hunkered down, invisible against the background.

She reached into a pocket and pulled out a thin strip of paper and crudely drew the Chinese pictogram for “Protection,” and looked for a way to affix it to her head.  She finally settled for licking the back of it and sticking the thing to her forehead.  The protective spell wasn’t very powerful, but it should allow her to buy enough time to catch her breath while Nex scoured the arena with his mind, seeking his prey.

“Licking the paper to stick it to something seems somewhat barbaric.”  Destiny’s wave was no louder than a whisper.

“Yeah?  Blame it on my upbringing.”  Chou whispered, “If it’s stupid, but it works, it ain’t stupid.”

“Yes, I agree, but there is a question of style, Chou.”

“Survival first, style later.”  Chou looked around, looking for any sign of her assailant.  “I don’t suppose the Tao wants to help with this one?”

“I thought you’d never ask.  Yes Chou, but you’d know this had you looked yourself before entering into this conflict.  You must learn to do these things without me prompting you.  It is you who must wield me and act as the Handmaiden, not the other way around.”

“Yeah, I’ve done so well at that, letting myself get sucked into killing some poor guy who never deserved what he got.”

“Which is why I urge you to start looking for yourself.  If you don’t start doing that on your own, there will be more needless deaths, even if you did do the man and his family a favor.  Learn to trust again, but remember to confirm the facts before you go in.”

“Facts.  Something that’s in rather short supply for me right now.  I better start connecting before the spell fails.”

Even as she said it she opened herself to the Tao.  The web of destiny here was simple, all of the other threads were grossly unimportant, but hers and Nex’s were critical.  Suddenly she understood the reason why the combat instructors pitted her against the boy.

The instructors wanted her to smear Nex, to teach him some humility, to show him that baseline humans were not the pathetic pieces of uselessness that he thought of them.  They believed she could do it.  A few of the instructors, warriors of the modern battlefield more than teachers, didn’t want to see her simply win.  They dearly hoped she would stomp him into the ground and rub his nose in it.  They wanted her to humiliate him and cripple his confidence so that he would never casually maim and cripple another person without considering the consequences.  The Tao did not object.  Simple defeat or humiliation would accomplish the same thing for Nex’s destiny in the long run, and Chou had a grudge to settle on behalf of a friend.

The Handmaiden would grant their wish.

 

 

Rythax watched the proceedings with something akin to amusement.  It was rather like watching a tournament, only far more...  brutal.  All in all the ancient shadowcat found the whole concept rather engaging, once the initial distress from Molly, the darling girl who could call him away from his limbo had subsided some.  Her distress at seeing Chou ambushed after she should have won this little contest had been like an alarm siren in the ancient diplomat’s mind and he had erupted from his imprisonment in full splendor, scaring many of the students nearby and causing them to panic.  After the reality that Molly was in no danger he settled in to watch, reducing himself to the dainty size (to him) of a normal panther.

Idly he glanced over at Molly, who was distressed over the superficial injuries her paramour sported, yet eager as Chou began moving again.  The tiny girl’s hands were in fists, shaking slightly, while her heels bounced off the floor rapidly, and she could clearly be heard muttering “Get him, Chou.  Get him.  Get him.”

“My dear Lady, calm yourself.  I’m sure Chou Lee will be fine once she deals with this...  Assassin.”  Rythax spat out the word with distaste.  Combative though he could be when pressed, he preferred by far the play of words and intent that came with double entendre and diplomacy.

“Can’t I be worried?”  Molly’s tone hovered between upset and angry, although with humans, who could tell?

“Of course dear Lady, however, I can not quite figure out whether you are worried, or seeking vendetta.  Your voice and scent speak of both to me.”

“He’d better not hurt her any more or I’ll gouge his freaking eyes out!”

Rythax didn’t press, instead went back to half-watching the arena spectacle, half watching the Pack-Stalker, or at least what similar to one, that was doing more or less the same thing, watching the fight and eyeballing him in turn.  Rythax determined to enjoy the arena battle, and make sure the Stalker didn’t come near Molly.  The things were notoriously dangerous to ally and enemy alike.  It never occurred to Rythax that the other one might be doing the same, eyeballing him in case he came near the tight knot of students near it.

 

 

Wilson grinned in a manner akin to a shark as he watched Chou begin moving with a purpose again, this time directly towards Nex, circling behind the Junior in exactly the same jaunty fashion he’d trailed her.  “Yo Gunny B, Ito, check this out!  Looks like Tolman was right!”

“Well I’ll be an Army Ranger.”  Bardue grinned as Wilson gave the old man the finger.  “Looks like Nex is in for a fun one.”

“Twenty bucks says Bladedancer breaks him.”  Wilson held the bill under Bardue’s nose.

“You’re on.  If she wins, it’ll be worth it.”

Ito just smiled.

 

 

Chou couldn’t see him, but she knew he was walking ahead of her about fifteen paces away, carefully watching the surroundings, except behind him.  Apparently it never occurred to Nex that she might do exactly the same thing he did to her, walking jauntily behind her prey, while the ironic echoes of laughter echoed above from the stadium seats.  Time to up the ante.  She drew Destiny’s Wave and dove forward, and past Nex, slashing him lightly along the arm as she moved.  He let out a startled yelp as his concentration broke.

“What’s the matter Nex, Baselines a bit much for you to handle?”  Chou’s voice was mocking as she crouched in front of him, blade at an odd ready stance while the Tao guided her, and that strange girl’s words thundered through her head.  Get him mad and screaming and you own him.

 

“Nothing you can do matters here,” Nex’s words were startled, shaky.  He wasn’t used to being actually challenged by anything short of a TK brick or high regen.  “Once I’m done with you, the school will be back as it belongs, with no baseline trash to muddy the waters.”

Chou raised an eyebrow.  “You do realize the folks up above can hear everything you’re saying?”

“What do I care about them?  They all feel the same way.  There is no place here for baselines.  Teachers, or students it doesn’t matter.  You’ll be shipped out with the rest of the trash sooner or later.”

Looking up, the sword-wielding girl smiled.  She could clearly see the looks of disagreement on many of the students’ faces even in the darkness.  That odd girl was leaning over the precipice cracking her knuckles.  She could see Stormwolf looking down, face like a thundercloud.  The Grunts looked collectively like they were going to spit bullets.  And the most disturbing were the faces of Ito and Bardue, Ito with that serene expression on his face and Bardue with a grin that could have made the damned demon that hounded her scream in terror and flee for his life.

“I think our peers disagree.”

Nex’s first attacks were parried easily, though he seemed to not notice.  “What would you know about peers you baseline trash?  Why are you even here?”

Ok, that hurt, because she could see several of the students also nodding in agreement with Nex’s sentiment.  She idly made a few attacks of her own.  His skills were being suborned to anger, and he went from deadly to novice in seconds.  She danced back and shook her head.

“Why am I here?  Simple Nex, because they couldn’t find anyone else close enough to your power to make it challenging.  Everyone else would have kicked your ass sideways.  Alas, only the simple baseline girl was weak enough to give you a chance at winning.”  Chou’s eyes gleamed as she drove the last nail home.  “Fey was right.  You are a pathetic loser.”

Nex stood there shaking in a rage as the slight girl completed the insult by sheathing her blade and turning her back on him as unworthy of her time.  All thought ceased as he attacked, screaming, determined to gut the cocky little shit and bleed her out all over the arena floor.

It worked, but it wasn’t fun.  Chou darted away and down an alley, giggling despite herself.  She knew it would only piss him off more.  She could hear him clearly, snarling death threats as she vaulted off an alley wall, hit the other and bounced upward on the brick faces and into an open window.  He followed, scant inches behind her and she faced him, standing as though she’d just been to a party, rather than doing strenuous activity.  “Oh, you’re still here?”

Nex shrieked in an absolute rage and shot towards her, only to find himself redirected into a wall.  Again he charged, and again he faceplanted, this time with the floor.  As he stood up he actually focused and the psiknives formed around his hands, and she found herself staring at the ruins of his nose.  He slammed the psiknives together and the world seemed to slow for her as bright bolts of energy exploded in all directions towards her.  The energy shards were small, and fast, and she found herself not escaping, but dodging in such a way that none of them would hit anything vital, guided by the Tao to suffer minimum damage.  Unfortunately the Tao didn’t exactly filter out the fact that it hurt like hell.

Nex charged, and Chou found herself not caring so much about the fact that she was gashed and bleeding so much as blocking his attacks.  The psiknives flickered and faded, Nex was too enraged and out of control to focus properly, and she found herself instead battling him amidst a psychic storm as random objects in the nearly-empty room whipped about randomly like they were caught in a whirlwind. 

Each time she parried an attack it was almost gentle, a redirection of his blows, and she leeched a tiny portion of his chi away with each strike.  Thus it went for several minutes as he danced around her, attacking and being blocked as she refused to move.  Any motion done wrong and her leg would buckle; the muscles of her left thigh were injured by the energy shards. 

Nex was screaming incoherently, howling promises of pain, never realizing that with each strike, he expended more energy, and she took it from him, adding it to her own pool, until she felt ready to burst.

He never realized she’d moved until he felt her foot slam into his chest, driving him back, hard.  He hit the open window and fell, tumbling back in freefall, barely managing to twist so he didn’t snap his neck when he hit the concrete and stopped moving.  Chou smiled as the Tao left her, and she fell to her knees, the pain of the myriad cuts finally getting to her and waited for the medics to get to her.

 

 

There was much cheering in the arena.  Bardue passed the twenty to Wilson with a grin, and Ito nodded to himself approvingly.  Diamondback and the fury twins let out a feral shriek of victory, and Razorback and the Underdogs roared their approval.  The Kimbas were oddly silent, with knowing looks and wide grins pasted to their faces.  Even Stormwolf let the facade break and he chuckled as the instant replay of Nex getting defenestrated played on the screens, complete with amazed commentary from Peeper over the Arena P.A. and WARS station.

Molly was shrieking, half pleased, half enraged at the damage Nex had done to her girlfriend.  Rythax nodded in his smug, self-satisfied, feline way and nudged the girl.  “Come, let’s go make sure she’s well.  It will make both of you feel better.”

“Okay!”  Molly was happy to find an excuse to run to Chou’s side.  She never realized she was being herded away from someone.

Rythax and Razorback exchanged half-quizzical, half-warning looks at each other as the shadowcat and mottled raptor-kid interposed themselves between each other and their friends and charges.  Neither made any move towards the other, and the incident faded away in the wash of mad cheer that infected the arena.  So intent on each other were they that Rythax never noticed the odd, metallic-haired, sparking girl as she had left the company of her friends.

Off away from everyone else, Caitlin smiled as she reached the phone, the feeling of smug satisfaction actually overpowered the disappointment that she hadn’t been the one to smear Nex.  Having a baseline girl do it was so much more satisfying, however.  She picked up the phone, and began dialing.  “Hello, Wild Mike’s Pizza?  I have a Whateley delivery for ‘ya.  Yeah, no problem, the standard surcharge.  Poe cottage, I need a Team Special.  That’s right, give it the works.  I need it delivered at about six PM.  Recipient is Bladedancer.  That’s right.  Debit card number is...”

 

 

“Okay, why the hell am I here?”  Caitlin snarled.  She found herself in Doctor Polland’s office after Carson had personally hunted her down and told her in no uncertain terms to report to the Powers Testing labs.  The evil queen of Whateley had spoken.

Doctor Polland sighed.  He knew she was going to be a handful, he just wished that he could believe she’d be less of a handful than that Paige Donner girl that had come over from the weres.  Experience told him otherwise.  “We just need to do a rotine run Caitlin.  It came from on high yesterday.  Both Carson and your guardian want you fully tested out and ready.  You have an MID card interview tomorrow morning and we need to get your biometrics and powers locked in.”

“Why the hell do we have to do it during Combat Finals?  It’s not like it has to be done before January, I got here late!”

Polland sighed.  “Sorry, but it has to be done today.  Headmistress’ orders.”

Caitlin folded her arms across her chest and snarled to herself.

“All right, if you’re done, we’re actually set up to test you properly this time, hopefully without interference from your aural energies.”

“Wonderful.  Can we do this fast?”

“That depends on you.”

“I can’t believe I’m missing the Combat Finals for this shit.”

Polland just sighed.  Erik Mahren’s abrupt and total transformation had done nothing to curb the former Marine’s surly, Lab-Rat mentality or aggressive nature.

The Xavier test was a repeat of the first time she did it, and she began the intelligence/physical portion rapidly, as she’d done it dozens of times before.  Only the changing nature of the test made it a challenge, as she couldn’t just memorize the answers on the fly.  She also wound up skipping a lot of questions that were pertaining to advanced concepts that she had no basis of knowledge for, as usual.  It was looking to be a long day.

 

 

Chou entered the Crystal Hall to cheering, mostly from the underclassmen, and the few upperclassmen who weren’t concerned with decorum, or who actively despised Nex.  She was bandaged up, and had spent a while in the infirmary getting stitched and bandaged up.  She’d gotten to see Punch in the infirmary bed, working off the toxins Jobe had hit her with, veritably surrounded by flowers and get-well cards from students who held similar opinions of Jobe Wilkins.

She was treated to a hero’s welcome that would undoubtedly be forgotten in the wake of the next great victory by someone in the Finals, but it was nice to have everyone on her side for a change.  Sure, the Ninjas were giving her dirty looks but the smiles from the Kimba table more than made up for that.  Several painful slaps on the back later and she realized that Killstench of all people was carrying her tray for her.  She guessed even the Ultraviolents held Nex in some measure of contempt, or hatred.  She didn’t know if she wanted to find out why though.

Killstench parted ways with her after setting the tray down with a nervous sidelong glance at Jade and half-ran back to his buddies.  Jade watched with a mischievous smirk on her face.

“Oh thank god, I was afraid he’d try to talk to us or something.”  Tennyo watched the Ultraviolent boy leave with distaste.

“Maybe he realized that you don’t like him oneesan.”  Jade managed a completely innocent little smile as she said it.

Hank rolled his eyes.  “Suuuuuure he did.”

“What?  You act as if you disbelieve!”

“So how did the visit with the doc go?”  Nikki asked with morbid curiosity.

“Just more preliminary stuff.”  Jade looked disappointed.  “Nothing worth talking about...  yet.”

“It’s the ‘yet’ that has me worried.”  Toni changed the subject as she realized Chou was sitting down.  “Hey hey hey Bladedancer!  Nice work with Tweedledee the wonder dummy.”

Chou was subjected to half a dozen smiles, two hugs and three or four happy, yet painful pats on the back.  “Ow, guys go easy.  I have stitches there!”

“Oops.  Sorry.”  Hank looked chagrined.

“No worries.  Hey where’s Molly?”

Nikki looked over at Chou and smiled.  “She’ll be back.  She said something about bringing Rythax in.  Apparently he wanted to congratulate you as well.”

Chou rolled her eyes.  “Oh great, one of Rythax’s dissertations.  If she wasn’t so cute I’d be tempted to throttle her.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m so cute then.”  Molly plopped into the empty seat next to Chou and grinned.  “You nearly gave me a heart-attack.  Don’t do that again.”

Chou looked back and saw the shadowcat, who bore a wounded expression on his face, and smirked.  “Come on Rythax, I was joking.  Thank you for coming along.”

Rythax looked mollified and smoothly moved up so he was looking chou in the eye with those alien, feline orbs of his.  “Well fought warrior.  It has been some time since I’ve been privileged to see such skill.”  Chou’s look of surprise at the short praise didn’t seem lost on the cat, and Rythax’s eyes glittered with amusement at her confusion.

“Just when I thought I had you figured out, Rythax.”

“Why whatever could you mean, my Lady?  I am but a humble diplomat, ill suited to the winds and ways of deception.”  The shadowcat somehow managed to not look smug.

“Yes, just when you think you have a shadowcat figured out...”  Nikki’s voice held that ancient edge to it, and her eyes twinkled mischievously.

Rythax managed to do that odd bowing thing again.  “Ah, but I am remiss once again for not having greeted you properly, oh Queen of the West.”

Nikki managed to somehow stop just shy of shooting tea out through her nostril as he said it.  “Ya know, I’m really, really going to have to talk to my P.R. guy.  This queen thing’s really starting to grate.”  In a more quiet voice she muttered, “I’m so glad I remembered to put up the conversation barrier.”  She tried to ignore the Sidhe queen’s laughter in the back of her mind as she contemplated the reactions of the nearby students to that.

“So Chou, how did you do that whole Chi drain thing?”  Toni leaned forward, eager to learn a new trick.  “I mean I caught the bare edges of it.  Those cameras really put a damper on the whole thing, you know?”

“Sure, I’ll tell you, after you teach me how you did that tornado surfer thing.”  Chou smirked back at her martial artist buddy.

“What?  And give away the secrets of my most impressive, yet functionally useless tricks?”

“Useless?”  Nikki sputtered.

“Tell that to Silo,” Hank grinned.

Toni, of course, protested her innocence.  “It’s not my fault he was in the way!  How was I supposed to know that when I’d roundhoused him into the funnel that he’d STAY there?” 

“No Chi drain tricks for you.”  Chou gave Toni a twisted little smirk.

“Would you teach ME the Chi-drain tricks?”  Molly’s puppy dog look was so innocent and beautiful Chou nearly melted.

“Well, since you asked so nicely...”

“I see how it is.”  Toni pretended to grump at them.

Nikki simply smirked at her friends as they went back and forth, having managed to drain the offending leaf-based drink from the back of her nasal passages.  “So Rythax, what did you think of the school’s latest torture tool for the student body?”

“Torture tool?  Surely you cannot mean the tournament, my Queen.”  Rythax looked scandalized by the thought.

“If that’s what you wanna call it, then yeah, the Tournament.”

“Actually I find it rather fascinating, rather akin to the tourneys held by the Court of the West, only with less fanfare and more emphasis on raw martial prowess.”  The Shadowcat looked around at the half-empty Crystal Hall.  “The raw power held by some of these short-lived human children is staggering to say the least, and yet to have no fatalities during the proceedings thus far.  It seems a monument to the self-control and advancement of a race of people whom I never thought would be more than a footnote in history.  No offense intended, Ladies, Sir, but I find myself pleasantly surprised and grateful that my perceptions were awry.  Otherwise I might still be stuck in a pocket of space with nothing to do and none to talk to.”

Nikki and the other kids had an ironic chuckle at that, given their knowledge of human history.  Advancement and self-control rarely seemed to go hand-in-hand in the world.

“Did I say something amusing?”

Molly smiled and held a hand out, and Rythax suffered the indignity of having his ears scratched in public with stoic determination, and no small measure of pleasure that he would never allow anyone to see.  “Don’t worry about it.  You’ll understand as you learn more about humanity and our history.”

“I’m certain of that.  Ah, I thought it would bear mention that there is a Pack-Stalker here.  Or something very similar.”

Nikki raised an eyebrow.  “Explain please.”

“Ah yes, you would have a different name for them, yet I forget at the moment what that was.”  Rythax craned his head up and looked around the Hall until he spotted his target.  “Over there, the great, black mottled beast sitting with the dark boy with the strange hair and white eyes.”

The entire table looked over and Toni snorted.  “Oh man you must have been stuck alone for a long time if you see Jericho and you think his hair is the weirdest thing about him.”

“Would I have given offense?”

Chou shook her head.  “Naw, I doubt there’s anything you could say to Jericho that’d offend him Rythax.  He’s...  weird, and he revels in it.”

Rythax chuckled to himself.  “How droll, but his companion is the one who concerns me.”

“Razorback is no worry unless provoked, Rythax.”  The voice that emanated was not quite Nikki.  “That one doesn’t seem to be one of the ones you are thinking of.  He’s too big, too spiny, too broad in the chest and his arms are as long and developed as any human.  He doesn’t even acts as the old Grendelhadagh did.  He’s driven as much by thought as instinct, and he’s far more powerful than any of those that I ever saw.”

“Earth to Unga-Dunga,” Toni looked at her friend oddly.  “What in the world are you two babbling about?”

“We are talking about some of the Gaian court’s old warriors Toni.  Gaia’s warriors tended to follow a much more animalistic and feral bent.  The only real strictures she placed on them were those of instinct.  They were left to fend for themselves and destroy any pockets of the old enemy that they came across.  Some were great, some were small.  All were dangerous, and not just to that enemy.”

Chou shrugged.  “So basically you’re saying the dinosaurs were demon-hunters?”

Nikki or Aunghadhail, one couldn’t always tell which, shrugged and gave that maddening smirk that couldn’t really be taken as confirmation or denial, and then dug into her plate of green stuff.

Jade rolled her eyes dramatically.  “And you all say I’M weird.”

 

 

“Diamondback, would you come with me please?”  Mrs. Dennon caught Sandra just outside the powers testing area, bringing a tray piled with the usual eats Caitlin normally went after.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No young lady, you’re not in trouble.  Sensei Ito and Gunnery Sergeant Bardue would like to speak with you.”  The elderly woman’s stern face softened a bit as the serpentine girl relaxed, and then tensed up.

“I’m in the Crash next, aren’t I?”

“I see you’re a bit quicker on the draw than most students.  Yes, your match will be coming up shortly.”

“Crap.”  Sandra slouched a little.  “Can I at least give Caitlin her lunch and tell her what’s up?  I wanted to drop in and keep her company so she’d have someone to talk to instead of being driven insane as a lab rat.”

“Of course, but make it swift, girl.  We are on a timeline.”

Sandra nodded and slithered into the testing areas and asked around, eventually being directed to a room where Caitlin was in the middle of the notorious “dodge ball from hell” phase of her testing.  Mrs. Dennon walked discretely behind and stopped, watching through the armor-plastic window as the girl dodged bowling balls lobbed at her at random intervals.  She wasn’t sparking her corona, and Diamondback reflected that the wards that had been drawn into the walls might have had something to do with that.

It was always much cooler to watch the reflex test than be a part of it upon reflection.  Caitlin wasn’t bothering to stand still for the test, instead bolting ducking, rolling and diving in an insane non-pattern that showcased just how high and far an Exemplar 4 could actually jump, which was an impressive thing to watch.  Seeing her friend able to do things that she could no longer take for granted Sandra felt a tiny stab of jealousy, which she quashed rapidly before tapping on the window and pointing at the tray of food in her hand.

Caitlin spotted her and grinned, then turned back to the machine that was so diligently trying to kill her with the redneck projectile of choice and stopped.  The machine, of course, wasn’t interested in ending the exercise and spat yet another of the low-velocity resin balls at her.  Caitlin spun and caught the ball on either end and used her momentum to alter its trajectory back where it came from and whipped it, with her own prodigious strength, back at her assailant, with predictable results.  The crash and the toppling machinery were rather impressive.

Caitlin stepped out just as Doctor Polland rushed up.  “What happened?”

“I think I broke the test.”  Caitlin’s evil smirk punctuated the exasperated look on Polland’s face.

The good doctor simply shook his head and walked away swearing to himself.

“Miss Bardue, just how long have you been terrorizing Doctor Polland for?”  Mrs. Dennon’s look was stern, almost like an angry grandmother until one realized she could knock over a city transit bus by bodychecking it.

Caitlin somehow looked disgustingly unapologetic.  “About...”  She counted on her fingers...  “Three hours now.  Ever since about ten minutes after Bladedancer’s Crash run.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that the medical profession at large is not your enemy?”

“Once, but then the fever broke.”

Sandra had to stifle a snicker, and a sarcastic comment of her own.

“Fine, but I had better not hear of any more property damage to Whateley’s testing facilities.  If anything further is broken, I imagine detention will involve working for free to pay off the repair bill.”  Sandra had the distinct sensation that the aging Brick instructor was tired of saying this, and a definite feeling of familiarity between the two, like this was a very old song and dance.

“Ok.  No more broken stuff if I can avoid it.  Scout’s honor.”  Caitlin did the two-finger scout salute.

“Oh I know you were never a Scout, unless there’s a Psychopath Scout troupe somewhere.”

“There is!  Wanna see my T-Shirt?”

Dennon rolled her eyes.  “I’ll talk to you later Caitlin.  But for now, your friend brings food, and she has an appointment to keep.  I am really not looking forward to spring semester.”

Sandra looked at the teacher.  “Why, what happens in Spring Semester?”

“I get to have this hellion cluttering up my combat class.”  She pointed at the unrepentant girl who was eyeballing the food.  “I expect you back at Arena ‘99 in no later than twenty minutes Diamondback.”

“Crap, it’s going to take me ten minutes just to get there.”

Dennon looked down and remembered the girl’s snake tail.  “Thirty minutes then.  But any later and you forfeit.”

Sandra nodded as the Brick teacher left, and the two girls sat down.

“Ten minutes?  Come on Sandra, I know you can’t scoot around as fast as most people but you aren’t that slow.”  Caitlin grinned.

“True.”  The impish grin on Sandra’s face was made complete by the fangs.  “So what’s this about you terrorizing Doc P?

“I... Hate... Going... To... See... The... Docs.”

“You realize I can understand a multisyllabic vocabulary, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m feeling rather monosyllabic and caveman-ish right now.  If one more person asks me how something makes me feel I swear I’m going to scream.”

“How does that make you feel?”

Sandra quickly covered her ears as Caitlin let out a wild shriek that made her wonder if her friend had one of those voices that could shatter glass.  When it ended she went back to talking like nothing happened.

“Feel better?”

“Much.”

“What the hell was that?”  A much-beleaguered Doctor Polland rushed back into the area with a couple orderlies.

“Girl talk.  We’re bonding.”  Caitlin somehow managed to say it with a straight face.

Polland left with a few more choice epithets.

 

 

“Everhart, Get to Hawthorne, now.  Palmer, Matthews and Raczinsky will meet you there.  We got one of those blips for a split-second that match up the things the Wild Bunch have been shotgunning.  I need eyes on at the site; Jericho and Razorback are En Route.”  Delarose’s voice cracked over the com like a whip.

“Shit, roger that, Chief.  ETA three minutes.  The Monster Squad boys know what we’re up against?”  Sam started running even as she spoke, unslinging the assault rifle and charging it even as she moved.

“Affirmative.  The three of them will be there a few minutes after you.  They have more gear to load.”

“Got it.  I’ll try to get eyes-on as soon as I arrive.”

There were very few students out and about, thankfully, leaving her own breathing and the crunch of snow beneath her boots as the only sounds in Sam’s ears.  The white, frosted eaves of Hawthorne Cottage were silent in the December day, and in a moment of cliché, Sam reflected that it was too quiet.  That didn’t last long as a tearing sound coming through the snow and a cloud of white powder erupted from the direction of Twain as Razorback dug in with the claws on all fours, kicking up a cloud of snow as he braked his speed.  He came up on his hind legs, chirped oddly and started sniffing at the air before turning to look right at Sam.  Without a word he stalked right over to her and stood nearby, watching the area and waiting.  He hadn’t bothered changing out of his shredded rocker kid clothing, which clung to him like a second skin from the wet cold.

“Well hello again Razorback.”  Sam cradled the rifle under one arm, and noting that Hive clocked the dinosaurian boy at approximately 103 MPH as he approached.

Razorback nodded to Sam, chirped and started off, circling Twain at an easy lope, which put him at speeds well beyond what Sam herself was capable of.

“Hive access security sensors in the area and give me a rundown on what we got here.”

Processing.  Hive detects fifteen students, Mrs. Cantrell and FUBAR in the immediate area inside and around Hawthorne.

“Extend search outwards to one thousand yards in all directions.”

Processing.  Hive detects two students and one unknown life sign in the range specified.  One student is performing a circular sweep of the area while the other is heading directly towards our position.  Unknown life sign is not moving and is approximately three degrees east-north-east of Hawthorne Cottage.  Range is six hundred yards.

“Display overlay, and alert me when Jericho and the Monster Squad arrives.”

Affirmative.  Jericho is approximately five hundred yards away and approaching at seven miles per hour.

The map overlay helpfully appeared in her vision, out of her main view.  Three green blips marking her, Razorback and Jericho were outside while a small cluster of amber blips remained inside Hawthorne.  One dull red marker showed where her target was skulking in the trees a ways off.

As she waited for backup, she heard a slow, steady crump of snow as Jericho polished off the distance between Twain and Hawthorne, wearing a blue EMT uniform with heavy rucksack rather than his usual gouge-your-own-eyes-out regalia.  A metal harness was strapped with an assortment of power relays and odd devises and gadgets.  Cradled in his hands was a worrisome piece of hardware, a heavy gun with a two-inch wide barrel, which looked like some sort of pump-action rig.

“I’m here,” Jericho said between heavy breaths from the exertion of running through the snow, “Where’s the bad guys?”

“Nice timing.  Razorback seems to be doing a patrol sweep.”

“Is he acting crazy, like he’s going to randomly tear someone apart?”

“Not that I noticed, but then I don’t know him very well.”

Jericho nodded.  “Trust me, you’d know.”  He pressed a finger to the device wrapped around his right ear.  “Razorback, regroup with me at Hawthorne.  Let’s do this the right way.”

An answering shriek called out from somewhere behind Hawthorne moments before Razorback came tearing back around the building to meet up with them.  As he slowed to approach Jericho tossed the lizard kid a syringe of something, which was promptly injected into his shoulder.

“What was that?” Sam pointed at the now-empty syringe.

“That?  Just a core temperature stabilizer Razor needs during cold weather.  He’s cold-blooded.  Without that stuff this chill could kill him.”

“Oh.  So why were you asking about him being all crazed then?”

Razorback’s hands danced in the Sign language.  Jericho nodded as Hive translated the signs to words.

-I’m not smelling, or sensing anything out here.  I think we might have a sensor glitch.-

“Every time these Voodoo-Wolves have shown up, Razor goes on edge and ready to rampage even before we see them.  Once they get close enough we’ll know, because we’ll have about three seconds to react before he starts ripping.”

“I prefer a bit more disciplined response if we can muster it.” Sam didn’t like the idea of Razorback going loose cannon.

“So would I, but I’ve seen the results when he gets rolling.  If there are less than ten of them out there, and they come near him they’re dog chow.”

“And if there’s more of them?”

Jericho grinned as he hefted the huge monstrosity of a cannon.  “Then I just have to thin ‘em out a bit.”

Sam looked at the gun critically.  “What the hell is that thing?”

“Core Ejector, a Slapdash special.  I picked it up from him a couple weeks ago as a trade on some gear.  I was intending to trade it off for something more usable.  Now I’m glad I kept it.  It’s actually a lot lighter than it looks, and it only kicks like Mule.”

Sam nodded as she kicked in the radio frequency.  “Chief I have Jericho and Razorback here.  Where’s the Monster Squad?”

“Hold position, The buggy’s acting up.  Looks like someone went off-roading and didn’t bother to report some damage.”

“Typical.”  Jericho snorted as he ran a cord from the harness of his chest and plugged it into the back of his skull.  “Chief we have eyes on, request permission to...  MOTHER FUCKER!”

“What is it?”  Sam looked at the boy sharply.

“What is it Jericho?”  Delarose sounded calm, oddly.

Jericho brought the monstrosity of a firearm up to his shoulder.  “Chief check for damaged sensors.  There’s five of them out there, if not the Voodoos then something pinging on my bad shit-o-meter.”

“Can you handle it?”

“If it’s voodoos?  Easy.  Razorback can clean out that many of them in a couple minutes.”

“Get a visual and engage at your discretion.  Everhart, give ‘em fire support.  They’re our resident experts at the moment.”

“Check Chief.”  She turned to the boys.  “I have point, Jericho you’re in the middle.  Razorback covers our rears in case anything comes up behind us.”  Sam didn’t even bother commenting on the idea of a blind kid with a gun.  She was already well aware of the fact that Jericho was fully capable of perceiving the world around him from his file and the debriefings on the Voodoo-Wolves.

Both boys nodded as Sam began moving forward.  Jericho and Razorback exchanged odd looks.

As they entered the trees within a hundred yards five places erupted in a cloud of snow and fleeing forms as the five Voodoo-Wolves bolted from their positions away from the three patrollers.  Sam noted that the five were moving fast and would pass outside the Whateley sensor net in a matter of a few minutes.  She wasn’t able to get a good look at any of them, just blurs of motion blocked by trees.

“Okay, that was fucking weird.”  Jericho didn’t seem to watch much of anything as Razorback nodded.

-They were here, but I couldn’t sense or smell them.-

Sam looked at the two boys.  “Did they ever run away before?”

“Not from us.  A bunch ran away from Bunker and Mule when the two of ‘em started breaking them on Range 4, but no, I never seen ‘em just run without trying to fight.”

A quick search of the area turned up a set of abandoned binoculars and a camera.

Sam got on the radio once more.  “Chief we just had five hostiles break and run without engaging.  We’ve recovered a set of binocs and a camera.  And the boys are telling me these things have found a way to spoof Razorback’s senses.”

“Not good, do a patrol sweep, and then send the boys back.  I got Bunker and Chaka up on the blotter next for response, just in case.”

“Roger that, Everhart out.”  She looked at the camera.  “And while we’re at it, let’s see just what’s on this film, shall we?”

 

 

The two boys made it back to the arena just in time.  Diamondback’s call on their com system the Outcasts shared had alerted them to the fact that her Battle Royale would be taking place shortly.  Unfortunately Caitlin wouldn’t be there.  The Powers Lab rats had her for the foreseeable future.  Since Diamondback and Caitlin were indisposed, and the Underdogs and Fury twins were all at their campus jobs for the moment, Jericho and Razorback decided to invade the Kimba Zone by the simple expedient of jumping over the seats and moving down towards them, row by row after they entered the building. 

It would have been simple had the boys just used the aisle.  Unfortunately they took the opportunity to invade the spaces of as many teams as they possibly could.  They made it to the Kimbas to the sounds of outraged students yelling threats and invective at them.  All of the Poe kids looked over as the two boys made themselves known.  A quick glance showed that the Arena was still being reset after the last bout.

“Ya know I dunno what their problem is, Razor, I mean it’s not like I spilled all the popcorn.”  Jericho smirked as the Kimbazoids shook their heads.

-I think it was the bag of Hot Tamales you confiscated for the safety of the students around them.-

Toni rolled her eyes.  “You two are classic you know that?  Anyone else would have used the nice, non-obnoxious walkway.”

“Anyone except you, oh Martial-artist of the bounciness.  I do believe it was you who ran across several students’ heads in the rush to get to her Combat Final and whup some ass?” Jericho’s grin was infectious.

Toni tried to look innocent.  Needless to say, it failed to work on anyone.

-Where’s Tennyo?-

Nikki smiled.  “Hey Razorback, Tennyo’s back at Poe, helping Mrs. Horton with some labor work.  Hank too.”

“I thought I smelled a distinct lack of testosterone here,” Jericho began.  “I guess me and Razorback will have to make up for it.”

“How kind of you.”

-We aim to please.-

“Why do I get the feeling you two are out to drive the world nuts around you?”  Chou asked lightly.

“SHHH!”  Jericho put a finger to his lips.  “You want to reveal the master plan to everyone?”

“Well your wardrobe is a good start for that.”

“My wardrobe is scientifically calculated to be on the cutting edge of fashion!”

Nikki smirked.  “Cutting edge huh?  Watch your wrists girls, he’s dangerous.”

“Nobody understands me.”

-Hey Nerdboy!  Looks like one of the teachers is taking the stand!-

“Oh ok.”

The mixed knot of kids looked over and saw Wilson, in full Ranger battle dress step out to the podium.  Down below Diamondback and Hekate entered the arena side-by-side, looking wildly uncomfortable with each others’ presence.  Diamondback wore the flowing, Blood-red robe and deathmask she wore in the sims and Hekate sported a rich robe of purple with golden trim and an odd wingtipped mask that made them look like hero and villain.  With the roles reversed in the minds of the Outcasts and Kimbas.

“Welcome to the Final Crash test of the day, Ladies and Gentlemen.  For those of you who do not know me, I am Staff Sergeant Ryan Wilson.  I teach on the gun ranges here at Whateley with Gunny Bardue, who most of you know.”  There was no hint or trace of Wilson’s slacker bum demeanor as he spoke.  “In battles between Mutants, or even battlefield combat among baselines, you rapidly begin to realize that nothing is ever quite what it seems.  Sometimes allies become enemies, and even the bitterest opponents must sometimes be accommodated in order to win all.  For our Next Crash I give you Hekate and Diamondback.”

The MID cards helpfully displayed for the two girls in the monitors above.

Code Name:	HEKATE
Ratings::	Exemplar 3, WIZ 3, PSI 3
Techniques:	Fireball, Telepathic Sweep, Stunner, Shadow Step
Weak vs.:	Unknown
Backup/Team affiliation:	Alphas

 

Code Name:	DIAMONDBACK
Ratings::	Exemplar 4, Esper 2, Wiz 1, GSD (Severe)
Techniques:	Constrictor, Venomous bite, Venom-spitter, Distracting wave, Bogeyman, Doppleganger, Healing Hands
Weak vs.:	Unknown
Backup/Team affiliation:	Outcast Corner

“As always the objective is the spindle, but in order to do that, they must overcome a mutual adversary, and only one can win.  And now, I give you their opponents, the Dragonslayers.”  As Wilson stepped back, a list of seven simple Codenames, no MID’s flashed on the screen.

Jericho jerked and looked at the others’ worriedly.  “Please tell me he did not just say Dragonslayers.”

“Ya...  He did.”  Jericho wasn’t able to see the suddenly ashen expressions on the other kids’ faces when Nikki spoke.  For once, mercifully, neither he nor Jack had anything smartass to say.

The Bogeymen were coming to Whateley.

 

 

Deep within the bowels of Arena 99 seven specialized ANTS bots, highly modified from the originals with a better A.I. simulation than most of the static opponents and bystanders the children would face normally powered up, and moved to collect weapons and ammunition.  The skeletal robots flickered as the holographic imagers kicked in and soon Hook, Devil’s Envoy, Major Screwup, House Arrest, Hacker, Slacker and Slamjack walked in old-style city camoflage to the staging ground where their programming kicked in, and the robotic attackers bolted into cover, moving from building to building by alleyways, by sewer and skyline, out of view of the normal “people” milling about the constructed Chi-Town cityscape.

Each of the robots was heavily modified to be able to fully mimic the human range of motion, and all were rated to match a low-to-mid range exemplar three, considered the upper limits of human development.  Each one had its strengths, and weaknesses.  One was more agile than the others, one was a bit more hardened against damage, one was stronger, one was smarter, and two of them had linked senses so each could operate with the other’s data.  All in all, even though the forces arrayed represented mere baselines, even the seniors and most of the staff had to admit that facing Whateley Academy’s mock-up of the mutant world’s most hated conspiracy theory was among the most nightmarish scenarios to face alone, to be surpassed only by things like the Mob Assault scenario, or the scenarios involving opponents with the power and personality of such psychopathic greats like Deathlist.

 

 

“So what the hell are we up against?”  Diamondback muttered to herself crossly.

“How should I know?  It’s not like I planned this.”  Hekate’s aloof demeanor was unwelcome and unasked.

“That was a rhetorical question.  And I wasn’t asking you.”

“Then who were you asking?”

“Nunya.  Let’s just get this over with.  I don’t want to be anywhere near you anymore than the reverse is true.”  Diamondback’s voice held very real rancor as she read Hekate’s emotions.  There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to be an exercise in backstabbery.  Hekate was notorious for double-crossing people when they hadn’t come up with some kind of “favorable” arrangement beforehand.

“There’s something I can agree with, freak.”

Diamondback smiled behind the bone-white skull mask and tightened her shields as she felt Hekate’s mind probing at hers.  Oh no you don’t, bitch.  I’m not giving up my tricks that easily.

Sandra slithered to the side and pulled a satchel out and removed three candles and a deck of cards.  A quick check revealed that the enchantments she’d laid were strong on the tarot she had brought with her, not for divination, but as a focus.  She ignored Hekate as she withdrew the Queen of Wands and the Emperor from the deck and brushed away the weaves she’d placed before.  Unlike most students of magic who put spells into each card, or coin or whatever they chose as a focus, Sandra had placed spell elements into each one, forming an incomplete spell until she laid them in the proper order.

Sure, she could channel raw magic like some, like Hekate or Fey, but compared to any of the WIZ students she was pitifully slow, and the draw took way too long.  She couldn’t just rip the energy from her surroundings and fling it with abandon.  She had to work for it.  Fortunately she was so far ahead of her Freshman magic class that she could utilize more advanced concepts, some of which she had learned from She-Beast in exchange for a little grunt work a few weeks back.

“What are you doing?”

Sandra hissed as she set up the candles and began rapid-drawing the cards and setting them up in a classic world spread with the Queen of Wands, representing her, and the Empress, Representing Hekate went into the center.  She hissed out a poem she and her brother had made up during their tenure at a small coven of Wiccans before her change as she did so.  As she did so the words and cards wrapped around her will, forming the core of the one major spell she would cast during the combat final.

“Broken Mirrors, Shattered Dreams,

Never be the way it seems.

Call to Mother, hold me tight

Always fear the touch of night.

 

Deception reigns as shadows fall,

Hear me allies, heed my call.

My light rests now, my fear runs deep

So let my fear to thy hearts creep.

 

Break the boundary, Smash it down

We see the king wearing his crown.

We understand you wish us ill,

Our touch carries the Winter’s Chill.

 

Hungering to feel your dreams,

Hear us whisper, hear you scream.

It’s getting dark, sire you must see,

My mind grows numb.

 

We come for thee.”

“Oh... My god, what did you do?”  Hekate was flabbergasted as the power, raw and unfettered, erupted from the spread of cards, and infused her.  It was like being in the immediate vicinity of Fey tearing off one of her insanely powerful spells when they went right.

Diamondback spun and hissed at Hekate.  “Shut up and get ready to fight.”  The tone and inflections weren’t Diamond, and her mind had shifted subtly, as though someone other than the meek and shy snake-girl she loved to mock as though she was just out of earshot was in control now.  “The spell is powerful and it will protect us, but it won’t last long.  Now get ready!”

Hekate was shocked, and most certainly angry.  Not only was this upstart freak barking at her like she was a dog, but she’d managed to spin together the elements of a spell complex enough that she couldn’t simply look at it and follow the flows to determine exactly what it did.  As she began forming her defenses she studied it until she found the weak spot.

It was a simple mistake, one that could be expected of any first year student.  The cards at the center were bound, with Diamondback’s card on top, thus she was the primary beneficiary.  But she hadn’t locked the spell in fully.  The cards could be shifted without Diamondback knowing.  As the snake-girl began slithering towards the spindle warily, Hekate simply used her abilities to cause the cards to flip places and locked them into the spell, completing the circuit.  Now she would be the primary beneficiary of the spell as the landscape of the Chi-town business district darkened and took on an unhallowed feel, shadows moving unnaturally as the civilian pedestrians panicked and scattered in the wake of the two obvious mutants as they walked towards the center of the arena.

 

 

“What the fuck did that bitch just do?”   Jericho’s voice was enraged as he used his laptop to hijack the arena cameras and watched the switch through his brainjack uplink.

Razorback shrieked his disapproval as he watched the cityscape below darken and shift to match the dark horror-swept nightmarescape the Outcasts loved to use to unnerve their opponents in the sims.

Nikki’s eyes narrowed.  “Diamondback just did a very complex spell.  I can’t tell what it is without getting closer, but Hekate just altered it somehow, linking it to herself rather than your friend.”

“Oh HELL NO!”  Jericho snarled like a maniac.  He was halfway out of his seat when Razorback pushed him down and signed at him.

“He’s right,” Nikki said as the blind boy snarled back.  “What goes in the sims, stays in the sims, Jericho.  All we can do is watch and hope Diamondback can overcome this on her own.”

Toni looked critically at Diamondback.  “You know, I sure as hell wouldn’t turn my back on Hekate.”

Razor chirped once and signed.

Jericho nodded.  “Fine, you’re right.  Sandra’s not going to be that easy to drag down.  Dammit!  First the Dragonslayers shit and now this!”

“Hey man it sucks rocks, but what can ya do?”  Toni shrugged.  “I admit, the thought of your heavy GSD friend knocking the stuffing out of the Queen of Shit down there appeals to me on multiple levels, but it doesn’t look like it’s in the cards right now.”

“Hey!  Shut up!  I spotted the Dragonslayer guys.”  Chou waved at them as she spoke.  “They’re flanking and...  Oh, there are seven of them.  Anyone know what these bastards are capable of?”

“I dunno, I heard they’re a pack of H1’s,” Chou said.

Jericho shook his head.  “No, well maybe Humanity First! but I looked at these guys when I started showing up Devisor.  I had nightmares about guys in black jumpsuits bum rushing me and shooting me.   All the reports are contradictory, and by all indications they shouldn’t exist.”

“That’s because they don’t exist, Frosh.”  Beltane walked down and settled in.  “What you’re looking at is Whateley’s simulator scenario of the Dragonslayers.  I assume that this is where the rumors came from.”

“They’re just sims?  I thought there weren’t any holoprojectors in the arena.”  Jericho looked a bit relieved, as did the other girls, save Razorback, who looked amused.  “You bastard, you knew they aren’t real?”

Razorback nodded gleefully.

“Oh man, we’ve been had by a lizard!”  Toni said, amused.

Belle nodded.  “So it seems.  But those are robots, not people.  But that doesn’t change the fact that Hekate and your friend are in for a rough time of it.  I think there are maybe three students on campus that can beat that scenario.  Stormwolf is not one of them.”

“Oh wow.”  Chou said.  “Think we’ll see that scenario?”

“Maybe,” Belle smirked, “That all depends on how cocky you lot are, and how good you get.”

 

 

Hekate rode the wave of power suffusing her as Diamondback jerked aside too fast for her eyes to track, avoiding a bullet whipping through the space her chest had just occupied.  The Snake-girl clicked two bracelets together and drew them along one another and whipped her arms apart, causing a wave of brilliant green energy to rip forward and shear the truck the man in urban digital cammies was behind in half.  Hekate added to the mix, firing a force blast at the man that threw him aside like a rag doll.  The man hit the wall and bounced, then jumped up and bolted, running away and down an alleyway.

Diamondback moved to pursue, but Hekate had recognized the uniform and face.  She’d need Diamondback alive and healthy to win, even with her newfound power.  “Don’t chase!  That’s Hook!  He’s leading into an ambush!  Follow me!”

“How do you know that?”

“We’re up against the Dragonslayer simulation!  That’s Hook, as in ‘worm on a...’ he’s their bait man!”  Hekate didn’t waste any more time on the fleeing human, instead diving into an alley of her own.  Thankfully Diamondback did the smart thing and followed.

“How do you know about them?”

“I had to do this simulation earlier this year, they never do teams for this, its individual grade, and it’s brutal as hell.  I don’t have time to explain so stay with me and follow my lead!”

“How did you win?”

“I didn’t, they took me down in four minutes.  Now MOVE!”

The two girls flung themselves aside as the thunder of gunfire erupted behind them and bullets began shredding the landscape.  A loud CLACK! sounded as something round and metallic hit the concrete nearby.  Both girls threw up hasty mystic barriers as the grenade exploded almost in their faces.  Then the tracers began raining from above as two machineguns belched bullets and noise from rooftops across the street at them.  They were barely away and around the corner when the rocket exploded and shredded the cover they had been behind scant seconds before.  Some of the shrapnel had penetrated, and the girls sported small, bloody gashes as they fled.  Four fast-moving humans bombed out of the alleyway behind them and opened fire at them with insane coordination, forcing them to dive behind more cover in the face of the aggressive assault.

 

 

Caitlin was backed into a corner behind the exam table, with her harvester in hand.  “No fucking way I’m getting on that goddamned table!”

Doc Polland held up his hands disarmingly and tried to speak in a calm and level tone.  “Caitlin we have to do the exam.  We need to make sure everything’s...”

“FUCK NO!”  Caitlin hadn’t realized just how much the idea of sitting down and having a doctor examine her “down below” would shake her up.  She thought she’d been getting used to being female, but the sight of the table and the speculum and other tools had brought on the full realization of just how real this whole situation really was.  That knowledge had brought with it a full-blown panic attack, as she’d always thought of a physical as “Turn your head and cough.”  This was far more invasive and the thought of someone prodding inside of her made her absolutely ill.  She felt in no way ready to face this final reality check that would pronounce her change loud and in stereo to God and Creation.

Polland tried to appear disarming, as he faced off with a girl who probably would kill both him and the two orderlies if they pushed her too hard.  Her aura was flashing and sparking like a dynamo in her agitation, even in the double-layer of wards on her clothing and the temporary runes on the walls which were glowing an angry red color.

She hadn’t been much better as a man, and certain aspects of the medical world had set her off like a nuke even before the change, and he was rapidly recognizing that glazed look of fear in her eyes that mirrored her old life.  Corporal Mahren had been arguably one of the most stoic, bull-headed and fearless men Polland had ever known, but even men like that had their fears.  Apparently he’d just hit one that Caitlin wasn’t even aware of herself.

Security officers pounded down the hall in full battle dress with Sam Everhart in the lead.  The call had come from Medical when Caitlin had gone off the deep end.  She met one of the nurses in the hallway, and the young man pointed.  “She’s gone bugshit.  I dunno what’s up, but Doc P. brought her into the exam room and she had an absolute shit fit!”

Sam peeked through the door and sighed.  “Not her again.”  The comment was carried away as the Security mugs moved into position on either side of the door.

“Why didn’t you tranq her?”  Sam looked at the nurse with an exasperated eye.

“I did.  Used the tranq gun, because she was hysterical.”  The nurse just shook his head.  “Didn’t even faze her.  She yanked the dart and threw it at me.”

“Doc Polland, would you please come out here?  Bring your men with you.”  Sam shouted.

After a few tense moments Doc Polland and the orderlies slid warily out of the room, and the door slammed as Caitlin darted forward and kicked it shut with a thunderous SLAM!  The doorframe buckled and cracked a bit with the force.

“Just what the hell is going on here, doc?”

“Everything was going just fine with this girl’s powers testing until we got to the physical exam.  I wasn’t expecting her to react so strongly to the idea.”  Polland looked tired.

“Let me guess, she flipped when you told her she had to do the physical.”

“Flipped is a bit of an understatement.  Closer to a psychotic episode.”

“Shit.  Doc, who dealt with her medical business before?”

“No one.  She’s...”  He stopped as Sam held up a finger to forestall him, and then turned to the nurse and orderlies.

“You three.  Out.”  Her voice held the note of command.  She turned to the Third Platoon security team that had accompanied her.  “Back to Kane.  This can be handled without you.”

“But the Lieutenant said...”

“The Lieutenant’s not here.  Get lost or I’m going in there and telling that girl you still haven’t found the Uzi and MP-5 that went missing.  That’ll calm her down about the physical right quick, and I’ll let her have it out with you.”

“Uh, right.  We’ll get to that.”

“You do that.”

When the Security boys and medical staff had cleared out, Sam turned to Doc Polland.  “All right Doc, don’t screw with me.  I know who she is, and who she WAS, better than you do in fact.  Now I ask again.  Who was her primary doctor before she changed?”

Doctor Polland sighed.  “Ophelia, Doctor Tenant.  She was the only person who could get Mahren to sit still long enough to get things done without him going psycho.  Or if McQuiston was still here she’d probably stay calm.”

Sam rolled her eyes.  “Ye well, McQuiston’s a bit busy taking a dirt nap, so that would leave Ophelia, now wouldn’t it?”

Polland nodded.  “Problem is she’s not here.  Today’s her off-day, and she’s not one I like to call in randomly, she and Raul don’t get much time to themselves, and she does far too much here already.”

“Is she apprised of Caitlin’s situation?”

“No.  Ophelia’s not party to that bit of knowledge.  She just knows that Caitlin is a troubled girl with massive control issues.”

Sam took a deep breath.  “Ok doc, lemme break it down to you, shotgun style.  That girl in there’s worked for me before, and I know her.  She does not react well to medical types and she’s been caught and...  Interrogated vigorously in the past, get my meaning?”  Doctor Polland nodded, somewhat shocked.  “She doesn’t trust doctors and she hates psychologists.  Now if you have one doc who’s got her trust I suggest that you get them in here to deal with her, because you’re looking at a full-blown phobia here, one that’s gotten her into a lot of trouble before.  Let’s minimize this as much as we can and get on with it.  So call Ophelia, fill her in, and get her here!”

Polland nodded and walked away as Sam sighed and looked at the door.  It was going to be one of those days.  She steeled herself for the screaming and opened the door, jerking it out of the mauled doorjamb and pushing it aside.  She met the steely-eyed gaze of Caitlin, not the upset, and touchy girl from before, but the hard-eyed gaze of an angry face from memory.  She shut the door gingerly, pulled up a chair and sat down, rubbing her temples.

“Caitlin I thought we’d gone over this.  You need to calm down.”

“I know.”  Caitlin snarled.

“I hate to break it to you girl, but you and me are both looking at this for the rest of our lives.”

“I know!”  The retort was loud and angry, with real heat.

“Then why the hell are you fighting it?”

Caitlin just stood there, glowering for a moment, then sat down with an unladylike grunt. 

“Well?”  Sam asked.

“Well what?”

“Don’t pull this shit with me.”  Sam looked her dead in the eye.  The girl locked her gaze and held it angrily.  “Why are you fighting it?  A few hours ago you said being female was the least of your worries, that if it was your only problem you’d be thrilled.  What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know!  I thought I had a handle on this, but then I came here for testing then they dragged me in here.... and it was like...”  Caitlin shuddered and shoved the wheeled cart with the exam tools away from her, causing it to bang off the wall.  “The thought of someone prodding at me there just made me want to shoot myself, or them.  I wasn’t sure which.”

“Ever thought of shooting yourself before?”

“Dozens of times, but I keep losing the thought after a few seconds because I can’t make sense of the idea of suicide.  It doesn’t click up here so well.”  Caitlin pointed at her head.  “Not that I think that’s a bad thing.  I don’t think I want to understand it.”

Sam snorted.  “Well at least I don’t have to put you on watch.  But seriously, Caitlin, you need to calm down.  Ignoring the problem isn’t going to make it simply disappear in a puff of smoke.”

“I don’t know what the hell else to do about it.  I can’t undo it, can’t change back.  Hell I can’t even sort out my damned memories.”

“So what, you’re just going to gut it out and not think about it?”  Sam looked disbelievingly as Caitlin let out a sullen nod.  “Jesus this isn’t a twenty mile hike that you can just push through.  It’s not a fight you can just fall back to training and experience to beat, Caitlin.”

Caitlin just slumped.  “What should I do about it, Everhart?  Over the last month and a half my life’s been blown straight to hell with a depth charge.  Granted it wasn’t much of a life, but I finally had something good going on here at Whateley.”

“What was that?”

Caitlin let a twisted, rueful smirk enter her features.  “Teaching kids to survive against assholes like me.  I had a job; I had a place where I wasn’t on the blotter or on the firing line.  I had Cat, who I was ready to spend the rest of my life with.  Now I feel like I’m back on the pointy edge of the spoon.”

“Ok, we’ll talk about this later, but for now we’ve got Doctor Tenant on her way, you think you can hold it together for her?”

“Maybe.  I think so.  I’m not sure.”

“We’re about to find out.”

 

 

Hekate swore furiously as the explosions continued to erupt around the two of them.  Apparently some smartass had decided that giving the seven loony Dragonslayer combat wombats artillery to play with was a good idea.  The eruptions continued to thunder around them as they hunkered down in a crater.  The seven madmen were moving and sporadically pouring fire into their position.  Several holes had been blown into the pavement, exposing the sewers below.

She leaned up and took a quick glance, only to jerk it back down as bullets tore up dirt and asphalt around her.  She hated this.  It was like reliving a bad dream.  Last time she’d gone up against the Dragonslayer scenario she’d been confident at her ability to simply crush the baselines arrayed against her.  They’d shredded her in far less than the four minutes she’d claimed to Diamondback.

“Diamondback there’s a bad guy with a radio!  He’s probably the one calling for the artillery!  We need to take him down but I’m pinned!”

The skull-masked snake-girl nodded and darted up for a look before ducking down again, too quick for the soldiers to react.  She began hissing out something under her breath again and Hekate felt her drawing in power and channeling it to those bracelets she’d apparently stacked for attacks and drew them together, and sliding them along each other to channel as she snapped upright and released the energy.  Hekate risked a look and saw the emerald wave shear out across the blasted cityscape and tear the man in two, along with his radio.

Hekate reared up and drew in that lovely wash of power from her stolen spell and sent a fireball shrieking down the devastated city street as the air seemed to shimmer and darken.  Shadows erupted into motion, seeming to charge as Diamondback’s spell entered its final stage, and the city itself seemed to raise itself to strike at the attackers.  Gunfire erupted as she slammed a barrier in front of her, drawing in a suddenly exhilarating level of power as she charged, drunk with raw power.  The earth split and tried to draw in the attackers, the shadows clung to them, dragging at their heels and slowing them down.

They still came.  Grenades flew, tearing her barrier to shreds, and she narrowly dodged a rocket fired from a storefront.  With a snarl she channeled lightning and sent the bolt shrieking into the building where it bounced and arced and played merry hell with the person inside.  The scream was gratifying as the second Dragonslayer died.

Diamondback smiled as she watched Hekate tear back, for once throwing the Dragonslayers into disarray.  As she prepared to move and do her part she smiled and drew one last tarot card and kissed it before setting the Fool down and binding it to the spell she’d wrought.  She moved with purpose, sliding into the sewer, exposed by one of the blasts.

 

 

Nikki was trying desperately to see the sudden turnaround that her friends were crowing about.  Sure, she’d seen the two Dragonslayers go down, but where were the fires?  Where were the rents tearing themselves into the ground, the shadows and darkness?  All she saw was a blasted landscape that clearly spelled out just how hard it was to take down some mutants as Hekate and Diamondback desperately tried to fend off the Dragonslayer assault.

The Dragonslayers were horrifically aggressive, going well beyond the reactions of any normal baseline humans she’d ever met.  Most wouldn’t have stood before Hekate confidently, much less Diamondback, who looked like a monster.  And the attack patterns were disturbingly effective.  Neither she, nor Aunghadhail had ever seen anything like the furious assault placed before her.  She doubted very much that she could have stood under that barrage, knowing as little of what they were about as she did.

Razorback was practically vibrating with excitement.  He’s silently but vehemently described in detail what he’d do to any real Dragonslayers who came after him.  It wasn’t pretty, but it mimicked the attitude of most of the kids nearby.  Nikki silently promised herself that if she ever met the real thing alone, she’d run.  Screw trying to fight the insane, it was pointless and likely to get one killed.  And everything she saw pointed to one thing.  These Dragonslayers in the Sims were stark, raving mad.

The other Kimbas and Outcasts watched with rapt fascination as Diamondback erupted from a manhole and started laying into the two Dragonslayers that hadn’t expected her.  The humans, even as capable as they were, could not cope with an enraged, exemplar-snake-thing up close and personal as she threw one negligently into a wall.  As he tried to crawl away she fired a series of punches at his compatriot in a rapid-fire blur that was impossible to follow.  The result wasn’t pretty.  The man seemed to explode in a shower of blood and broken bits.

Another Dragonslayer was coping with what looked like two Earthen Elementals that tore themselves from the surrounding buildings and wreckage.  One Elemental went down as a rocket hit it and blew it to so much rock and sand.  The remaining two Dragonslayers were pinning Hekate down, darting back and forth seemingly randomly, while firing on the run.  The Alpha girl was wildly whipping lightning bolts, fire and fury at the two men as they avoided her onslaught, sometimes narrowly.

Nikki saw none of this.  She saw shadows and dust.  The two men that had been attacked by Diamondback she simply saw fall over.  The one fending off the elementals simply fired the rocket launcher into empty space, to detonate on the protective shield that separated the arena from the spectators.  And she saw Hekate...  She smiled, and then began tracking back to the point where Diamondback had cast the spell and her jaw dropped a bit at the sheer complexity and utter genius of it.  She smiled wide and leaned back into her chair, considering.

“Jericho, remind me never to piss Diamondback off.”

“Huh?”

 

 

Hekate was getting angry.  The two lunatics that had been bouncing bullets off of her hasty barriers and dodging her own attacks were like a pair of lunatic pinballs bouncing from place to place.  Diamondback’s spell seemed unreal, the amount of power it had charged, the chaos and sheer insanity it provoked.  That it had been done by a mere freshman was simply unacceptable and galling.  That it had been done by one of those unsightly freaks from Whitman made it even less so.  Once she was done, she fully intended to find a way to rip the secrets of the casting from the girl by any means necessary.

One of the harassers fell victim to the random reality warping that accompanied the rest of the chaos.  His boot got caught in a small fissure and the asphalt seized it and sealed around the foot.  Hekate wasted no time with him, flinging a small, red ball of energy that struck him in the chest, burning through him and causing him to vanish in a burst of red light and glittering motes of loose matter until the disintegration spell consumed even that.  She smiled to herself and began to turn when she felt the impact of a bullet in her shoulder before she heard it.  The body armor woven under her flowing costume stopped it, but she felt her collarbone crack in a searing burst of agony.  She dropped to her knees and saw her vision waver and reality lurched.

Without warning she was exhausted, the surge of energy gone without a trace, leaving her bone-deep weary and mentally drained.  The shadows vanished, the elemental rippled and faded.  The rents and warps in stone and earth smoothed out and faded as the Dragonslayers looked around, confused for a moment.  The ones Diamond had torn apart up close jerked and stood abruptly, unhurt as the massive illusion the snake-girl had woven faded.  An illusion of Diamondback slithering up behind one of the Dragonslayers flickered and faded away, but not before it looked at Hekate and presented the one-finger salute.

She’d been tricked.  That damned serpent-girl had tricked her!  All this time, that feeling of power had caused her to burn her own energy at an insane rate, and left her wounded, exhausted, and incapable of focusing for a single spell, much less her own psychic ability.  She was barely able to hold herself up as the four Dragonslayers walked up.  SlamJack upholstered a pistol and leveled it with her face as the gong sounded, signaling that the spindle had been successfully used.  The four Dragonslayers froze in place, unmoving statues, and she simply stared at their troubled, but determined expressions until someone arrived to assist her off the Arena floor.

Diamondback smiled from her place by the spindle and slithered away towards the exit.  All in all it was a good day when you could count on your enemies to betray you properly.

A Whateley Academy Story

Call the Thunder

By Joe Gunnarson and the rest of the Academy Crew

Chapter 5:  Idiots 'R Us

 

Monday, December 12th, 2006

"Doctor Bellows, it's Polland.  I'm going over some of Caitlin Bardue's test results and was wondering if you could drop by to talk."  Polland looked over at the blessedly quiet room that Ophelia had entered with her usual serene expression, save for a hardness of the eyes that bespoke a promise of death for a certain repeat problem patient of hers.  "Yes, here in the next few minutes would be ideal thanks.  I want to get this over with as quickly as possible.  This girl is a nightmare to deal with.  Yes, she's as bellicose as ever, even with...  Get down here.  I just saw some scanner logs.  We have to redo her scans ASAP."

Polland clicked off the telephone and looked at the computer screen.  Besides the obvious physical exam, which seemed to be actually going right, none of Caitlin's scan tests or tissue samples had been readily tested.  The scans all appeared as though someone had placed a lead sheet between her body and the offending piece of medical equipment.  The tissue samples taken had all arced with odd green energy and exploded within moments of being separated from her body, causing all manner of minor havoc in the testing area.

It was bad enough that she was uncooperative and deliberately obstructive, but now it seemed her very body was as well.

He pulled up the scanner file again and sighed.  The MRI had gotten no penetration into the girl's body, or the dye used to track everything had failed to take, one of the two.  Her Xavier test scores were well within line with what Mahren had shown before his unexpected blitz to the fairer sex.  At a 136 IQ once certain psychological issues were taken into account, Caitlin Bardue's intelligence was respectable, if hardly phenomenal for the Academy student body.  Unlike most exemplars, she had not seemed to receive any of the usual mental abilities with her transformation.  Her physical capabilities had shot through the roof, and were stable well within the mid-high exemplar-four norm.  Her endurance and raw stamina were not, however.

As he went back over the raw physical data, the changes were pronounced.  Once the docs had found ways to make the areas stable for her insane aura, they now had an accurate read on her physical capabilities.  Her bench press weight had gone from her old human bench press weight of roughly 250 lbs. to approximately 1511 lbs. or about three quarters of a ton - once the sudden random destruction factor was eliminated from the testing.  Her reflexes had undergone the smallest boost, somewhere between Olympic athlete and greased lightning.  Even though she was fast, she was still in line with other exemplar fours, and she had started as a man who had been the baseline equivalent of an exemplar two in strength and a three in reflexes and endurance.

The girl's endurance and stamina were off the charts.  She'd admitted to not really having slept for any significant amount of time since the change, with one notable bout of wakefulness that lasted just under ninety-six hours, and only one hour of sleep, which she'd forced.  Her strength was almost akin to a hydraulic press.  Once she hit her max she just stopped and wasn't able to budge the bar, period, but as long as it was even a gram under said limit she was able to continue pressing it without any sign of fatigue or strain.  She had shown that she was capable of running exactly 31.08 miles an hour and held that pace steady for thirty minutes without even breathing hard.  Increasing the speed even slightly had resulted in her stumbling and being thrown from the treadmill, twice.

Doctor Polland was not interested in a third time after she had kicked the machine onto its side in a spitting rage.  Caitlin's incredibly short temper with the medical profession hadn't been in evidence when she'd first changed, but then she was also somewhat in shock.  He sighed and wished to return to that blissful time when she was too mentally drained to fight back.  It wasn't like the medical staff at the Academy could come up with a realistic detention or punishment for a nearly thirty-year-old woman, trying to learn how to be female by being drop-kicked into the student body.  The fact that she was PART of the student body told him there was more going on here than Carson was telling, and she was being protected from something.

All in all she was a bundle of contradictions.  Her blood rapidly solidified into a blood-red metal that was definitively active mystically according to all the tests, and the tissue samples had hardened to a marble-like substance before detonating spectacularly in what some of the more mystically aware staff had dubbed 'mini mana storms.'  Add to that her hair was definitely composed of black, metal filaments and her irises visibly and measurably heated when she got pissed.  The glowing runic sigils in her irises were spectacular and a bit scary to see when she got angry.

Caitlin looked female, but didn't have any of the hormonal markers in her blood of such, what little they were able to analyze.  She also reported that the drugs she had been taking to deal with certain issues, most notably Post-Traumatic Stress, weren't having any noticeable effect.  The antipsychotics she had been taking were similarly deadened, making the fact that she had a particular variant of intermittent explosive disorder a nagging worry, for her and for him.  He'd called Bellows to discuss that very fact.  Figuring out whether or not Caitlin would be prone to another episode like she'd had on Halloween when she'd forgotten to refill her prescription would be a priority.

When Bellows arrived, he nodded to the other man and the two wandered over to the coffee pot.  It was pretty much a given that this was going to be a long session.  "So dealing with Caitlin has been something less than joyful?"

Polland sighed, "You don't know the half of it.  I swear that Amazonian nightmare is the focal point for all of the hatred for the medical community in the world."

Dr. Bellows snorted.  "Oh if you think she's bad now, you should try to get her into a counseling session.  I chalk up her post-change cooperative streak to pure mental shock, both from the change, and from losing Backdraft."

"God, I miss Cat some days.  Like right now.  She was the only person who could make that walking ball of rage in there stay calm."

"Don't we both.  But for now, what do you have for me?  You don't normally call me down here unless you've got a weird one."

Polland nodded and handed a sheet over.  "Caitlin in there's Zener card results.  Out of five passes with the cards, she's hit zero correct answers.  I did it before with her as Mahren right before the blowout, and he'd gotten a zero as well.  I can write off one null result as a low-probability event given how many we do in a year, but five in a row?"

"I see."  Bellows pondered for a moment.  "Could be part of that mage/psychic theory you've been working on.  Caitlin's heavily mage-oriented, and some mages do tend to zero out on that test unless they're also psychic or strongly empathic."

"Doesn't wash.  Mahren wasn't heavily magic-oriented, and he still drew a null on that test.  I even pulled up records of the few times we were able to get that lunatic to sit still for any kind of test, and he's always zeroed out.  We never ran more than one pass with him, but I always assumed he was being his usual bull-headed, contrary self.  This reminds me, we need to do a detailed purge of all our records pertaining to Mahren.  I missed a few when Carson sent the order down."

"That could actually be a possibility here.  What about that weird spirit-thing, the parasite?"

"Oh.  THAT."  Polland leaned back and dug through a file that seemed as thick as his arm.  "We have no clue what the bloody thing is, and even Lodgeman's stumped.  He's never seen anything like it.  We just know that it's a possessor of some sort, it's probably the cause of Caitlin's change, ultimately, and it's trying to integrate itself with her totally.  We can't get rid of it without killing her."

"Wonderful.  How likely is it that's the cause of her lovely little result with the cards?"  Bellows leaned against a counter and sipped at the coffee.

"Pretty likely, although Louis mentioned that she's got a real haywire shielding technique, memory association thing.  Since she wasn't able to shield traditionally she sort of trained herself to have a defense.  Poke the wrong memory and you get to relive the sensation of getting shot, or something equally unpleasant."

Bellows sighed and shook his head.  "It would take a guy like Mahren to figure out how to turn his brain into a minefield for psychics."

"Yeah, and that's about the tip of the iceberg.  If these scans are any indication, Caitlin might have the 6^th worst case of internal GSD I have ever seen."

"How so?"

Polland leaned back and steepled his fingers.  "I'm not finding any signs of organic life.  Once Ophelia finishes the physical, I'm trucking the girl out to ARC for the deep scanner.  She's pretty much showing all the indicators that her entire body is mineral-based.  But I DO want to confirm it before I jump to conclusions."

"Getting her to go along with that might be a trick."

"Maybe I can con one of the devisors here to run a scan."

Bellows nodded.  "Have you given any thought to having her examined by one of the mages?  Grimes is pretty slick at that kind of thing."

"Grimes and Mahren never got along.  It might just aggravate Caitlin even more."

Bellows got a predatory grin on his face.  "And what could be a better payback for all the misery that girl has put us through over the years than locking the two of them in a room together?"

Polland considered for a moment.  "I'll make the call."

Diamondback grinned as Razor and Jericho nearly tackled her with glee.  Her smug, self-assured look was a far cry from the normally shy and subdued posture she held in public.  The Grunts genuflecting and intoning "We're not worthy" over and over couldn't have helped deflate her ego much either.

"So how did the shakedown with Ito and Bardue go?"  Jericho grinned as he asked.

"I got an A," she intoned in a singsong voice and did short, undulating dance that drew several sets of nearby eyes to her...  interesting figure.

"Nice!"  Jericho grinned and Razorback immediately did his traditional slamdance/air guitar victory dance.

"And I'm sure I have my first eternal enemy in Hekate, even though I doubt she'd be dumb enough to do anything about it."

"Yeah, after that whole deal with Folder, I imagine most fools are a bit reluctant to get too pissy about sim runs or arena fights."

The mood was broken somewhat as Bunker spotted her MMID card on the displays and bolted down towards the entrance to the arena cackling madly.  Her team dispersed to go watch.

Diamondback took a deep breath and realized that besides the lunatic grins of her compatriots, there were wide smiles from a pack of girls she'd never expected to associate with on anything but an adversarial basis, as Team Kimba - or at least the ones who were there - walked up to meet the three of them.  The emotions ranged from smug satisfaction to crazed glee.

Chaka was the one to approach first, and grinned wide.  "Oh man you should have seen that bitch's face!  That expression was priceless when she realized you tricked her!"

Diamondback was a bit taken aback at the response from the Kimba girls, she wasn't expecting the lot of them to blow off her appearance and cluster around her and her friends with grins on their faces.  Well there was that Generator kid, who was putting on a brave front while casting nervous glances at both her and Razorback, but she could hardly blame the small child for being antsy around a pair of kids who looked monstrous, more so than most of the Faction Three kids.  If Sandra had seen herself as a child she'd have panicked and run for the hills.

Fey was the odd one of the lot, concealing odd feelings of fascination with her even as she smiled.  She'd been like that on Halloween as well when she was all decked out like a Gorgon.  Diamond was lost in the upbeat emotional current when Jericho jarred her a little.

"Hey Diamond, you're zoning out again."  The blind boy gave her a concerned look.

Sandra shook her head and looked at the Kimbas, “Sorry, I'm a bit zonked right now."

Fey, that maddeningly gorgeous redhead shook her head.  "Hey no worries.  After that little performance with Hekate I'd say you were a bit entitled to zoning out on occasion.  Nice job, by the way.  Couldn't have handled that dirty bitch better myself."

"Thanks."  Diamondback nodded to Bladedancer, "And I got to say, that beating of Nex?  Good work."

Chou smirked and nodded, trying not to move too quickly and rip her bandages.  "Thanks.  Let us just hope the trend continues and we all do as well."

The rest of the Kimbas clustered in to give their words of congratulations as the three Outcasts marveled at the friends they'd seemed to be making of late.

Phobos and Deimos, the notorious Fury Twins, were on their way back to the arena and noted Lancer, one of the Kimbas, was trudging along through the snow in about the same general direction.  The two girls gave him a bit of a wide berth even though he nodded and gave a bit of a wave before continuing along.  The two of them watched the rather cute boy as he walked with a purpose towards the Arena.  They didn't know what to make of these Kimbas, but the rumors from Hawthorne were that the lot of them were GSD friendly.  That didn't necessarily make them any more eager to wander up and say hi.  Too many times burned by even friendly-seeming kids among the pretties had loaded them with more than their share of social caution.

Even so they still followed, morbidly curious as to why he was moving with such haste, when it wasn't to get away from them.  Neither would admit it, but Lancer's dancer physique and smoky eyes drew their attention every time he went past them.  The fact that his emotions were a bit less hard-edged than most of the guys on campus made him doubly intriguing.  The two GSD girls followed along, trying not to be too obvious that they were, a task made nearly impossible by the sheer lack of people to use as cover.

The twins stopped and sighed as a fairly pretty black-haired girl in a Security Auxiliary uniform met him and the two shared a hug, then kissed lightly before going into the Arena together.

"It's just not fair.  We never get to have the cute ones."  Deimos pouted.

Phobos shrugged mildly.  "Yeah well, what can you do?  It's not like we're going to DO anything.  When was the last time one of us dug up the guts to talk to a boy without being emotionally overloaded first?"

"Bah.  I really hate the truth sometimes.  Fuck.  Well, we could always go bug the Underdogs when they get off work."

"Nah, they mean well but we scare the shit out of the lot of 'em."

"That fear aura.  Why couldn't we have gotten something else?  I really hate trying to make friends when they're shitting their pants being near us."

Phobos nodded.  "I'm getting tired of being alone around here.  Sorry sis, but we run out of things to talk to, and I don't fancy trying to buddy up with Pucelle."

Deimos groaned.  "Uh God, don't remind me of her, please!  It's bad enough that I have to live with her!  If I have to hear one more speech about the plight of the downtrodden GSD types again I'm gonna rip her arms off."

"You said that last week."

"Shut up."

"And the week before."

"Grrr...  If you weren't my sister I'd clock you one.  Hard."

"You love me."

"Prove it."

"Well, maybe it's time we took up Diamondback on that standing offer to just hang out with the Outcasts."  Phobos looked up at the light snowfall coming down from the sky and sighed.  "At least they don't go into a near panic whenever we're around.  And they can stop us when we start getting too heated."

"I dunno, they can be pretty violently angry some days.  You've seen Jericho mad, and he's probably the most gleefully happy of the three.  Then there's that new girl who's just a walking rage bomb looking for a place to go off."

"Well what do you want to do, hang out with Thuban's Faction Three?  I hate to break it to you, sis, but they don't react to us any better than the Dickinson bitches do."

"Yeah, I know.  I know Diamond and her friends barely register that fear thing we have going, and they don't care what we look like, but think about it.  Being around them isn't really safe for us, physically or emotionally."

"You know what, Janine, fuck being safe.  I'm tired of being alone, with no friends to hang out with on a regular basis.  I'd rather risk a Fury event than keep on trying to gut things out like this.  What else we going to do, sulk around and stare at Lancer's ass and wish we were Little Miss Wallflower for the rest of our time here?"

"No, you're right.  I'm just scared, Adrienne."

Phobos nodded and laid one of her four arms on her twin's shoulder.  "Yeah, me too.  But we gotta start trusting people sometime."

"I know.  Otherwise we might as well just lie down and die."

"I dunno about you, sis, but I have no intention of lying down and doing anything.  Well, maybe if he's cute enough."

Deimos smirked.  "Ok sis, you win.  Let's give it a shot.  At least that way we can at least say we tried if things don't work."

"That's the spirit.  Now let's go inside.  I'm freezing my tails off out here."

Hank parted ways with Lily as they began moving to their respective seats with their teams.  He really really liked Lily, and she made him happy.  He wasn't exactly sure if it was love, but she made him feel good.  He snorted as he contemplated her codename.  Even though she wasn't exemplar hot, she wasn't just a wallflower to him.  He watched her wander back to her other friends , then turned and bumped straight into a spitting mad Andrea Elsner.

Bunker bounced off him, and let out a low-grade bout of swearing under her breath.  The short blonde girl in digital cammies glared at him and then simply darted past him on her way out of the arena.  It was a far cry from the enthusiasm and gleeful mayhem he'd seen from her the night before.  He turned back to go towards his seat and saw Deadeye, the grunts' leader shaking his head and smirking.

"Hey Declan, how goes things?"  The octopus-eyed sniper/team leader asked.

"Fine.  What the hell crawled up Bunker's ass?  She looks about ready to chew up a lead bar and spit bullets."

Deadeye shook his head and smirked.  "She just finished out her combat final.  She's somewhat less than pleased with the results."

"Why, she lose that bad?"

Deadeye snorted.  "You kidding?  She won in a minute and thirteen seconds.  They stuck her up against that girl from Dickinson who's power is to turn into glass.  It was like watching George Foreman threatening to beat the crap out of a cripple."

"So easy fight, and that's got her mad?"

"Shit yeah, Bunker was itching for a challenge, you know balls to the wall proving she's just as tough as the rest of us?  All she had to do was point her sidearm at the girl and punch in the codes.  Glass girl wasn't gonna risk getting shot for the spindle, so she skedaddled.  Bunk didn't even have to use her powers."

That was interesting.  Hank hadn't known about that angle for the Grunts' personalities.

"So you all hoping for a good fight then?"

"Hope so.  Next week when us upper-classmen do our thing I'm hoping to get Stormwolf or Breaker actually.  I mean if you're gonna throw down, might as well be against someone who can give you a real run for it, right?"  He gave a smirk that told Hank he wasn’t telling the whole story there.

"Guess so.  Well, with my team in the Crash this semester I'm pretty sure mine'll be a rough run."

"Enjoy it when it comes, Declan.  Because if you win in the Crash, and you're up against a rough sitch, it's worth that much more in the long run.  Besides, you don't learn anything from an easy win anyway, ya?"

Hank nodded, then looked Deadeye in his eerie eyes.  "Ok.  I like that.  I'm in, but I'm NOT leaving my friends."

"Would've questioned your sanity if you did."  Deadeye nodded.  "All right, here's the deal.  Sooner or later both our teams are going to wind up playing tag with each other in the simulators.  I don't want to hear about Team Kimba's soft spots that can be hit, and I don't want them hearing about ours.  Whichever side you choose to play on, you give it your all.  If I think for a split-second you aren't you're out.  I don't care if I have to meet you on opposite sides of the line for the Kimbas.  What goes in the sims, stays there, but I expect to see you pushing yourself in all cases.  You read?"

"Loud and clear.  When will the Kimbas expect to see sim time?  We haven't had any team sims yet."

"That's because you're all Froshes.  If you had a Soph or above you'd be hitting the sims from about week three on, because the Froshes start semester two.  All the rest of us have to play in the sandbox from the get-go.  So that means you're looking at a lot of teams like the Masterminds, the Wild Pack, the Capes, and Outcast Corner who've been playing with the big kids the whole time."

"I thought the Outcasts were Freshmen."

Deadeye nodded.  "They are, except for Razorback.  He's a Sophomore and he's teamed with them, so they got the drop early.  They just picked up a fourth member on the roster.  Watch out for 'em in the sims.  They’re an absolute nightmare to root out and drag down."

Hank smiled.  "Fair enough.  Nikki's been working with them for the past couple weeks with their new gig in Security."

Deadeye nodded.  "Speaking of which, the clock is ticking."

"Nikki's gonna come talk to you tonight.  Much as she despises dragging yet more people into this, Bunker and Mule savaged those Voodoo motherfuckers by themselves.  And they need all the help they can get."

"You're not in on this?"

"Nope.  Not psychologically safe.  Unless you can shield or are immune to magic, just looking at one of those things will make you crazy.  Or worse.  Like in the old Lovecraft stories."

Deadeye nodded, looking thoughtful.  "Thanks for the tip.  I'll be talking to Fubar about that, and see what we can cook up.  Last thing I need is for Bomber to go crazier."

"What is his problem anyway?  Besides being a dick," Hank asked.

"Bomber is a card-carrying sociopath.  Don't provoke him, and don't give him ammo.  He's just as good at getting under people's skins and breaking down their self-esteem as he is at blowing shit up."

"Thanks for the warning."

"It takes all types man.  Better that he's on our side taking orders than somewhere else where we can't keep an eye on him."

Hank nodded and by mutual, silent assent, both boys carried on their merry way.

"There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"  Ophelia led a twitching Caitlin Bardue from the infirmary suite where she'd performed the examination.  Caitlin's only reply was something that resembled a growl as she walked purposefully past Doctor Bellows and Polland and straight into the men's bathroom.

"So.  How did it go?"  Polland asked cheerfully, gratified by the subdued and somewhat unnerved expression the girl bore.  He couldn't help but smile as Caitlin loudly started heaving from the restroom.

"Oh, it went pretty well.  She'll be fine.  I don't think the reality of her situation had quite hit up until now."  Ophelia's expression was bemused and annoyed all at once.

"So how did you manage to keep her calm?"  Bellows questioned.  "I didn't hear any crying, screaming, or any loud thumps."

Ophelia rolled her eyes at the two men.  "You just have to know how to handle her, and I'll thank you to inform me the next time one of my regular patients has something like this happen.  I don't like getting emergency calls about something that is easy to deal with."

"You call that easy?  We tried reasoning with her, it doesn't WORK!"  Polland's smile evaporated.

"Good lord, you two are forgetting that no matter how she's changed, Caitlin, I guess it is now, is a MARINE."  She shook her head.  "You don't try to reason with them, or plead and cajole once they've gotten their wild hair up and running.  You tell them to grow up, quit acting like a damned baby and do as they're told!  It's not advanced physics!"

"Easy for you to say.  Mahren was notorious for being a bit loose in the screws up here."  Bellows tapped his head.  "Add to that she's still uncooperative, won't tell anyone anything about what's eating at her, and will not sit through a full counseling session.  And getting her to talk about her past, be it her family, or her time in the Marines is sort of akin to trying to teach a rock to do dog tricks.  Never mind her anger management issues."

"Okay.  Have you tried a psychic counselor?"  Ophelia asked.

Polland shook his head.  "Nada.  The only psychic Mahren wouldn't pound for getting into his head is Louis, and even he recommends severely respecting Caitlin's mental space."

Bellows nodded.  "More to the point Mahren wouldn't even enter a room with a psychic shrink.  It was always he'd walk in, figure it out, then leave."

Caitlin chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, gave the three doctors a distasteful look then started heading into the next testing area, praying to get this nightmare over with.

"Caitlin why won't you see a counselor or get a telepath to help you?"  Ophelia's exasperation must have been showing, as Caitlin turned and gave Dr. Tenent a weary look.

"None of you are cleared for that information."  The girl turned and walked out of the examination area.

"See?  Uncooperative."  Bellows sighed and rubbed his head.  "Every time someone broaches the topic she always gives a variation on that same smartass answer."

"Bellows, you've been at this too long.  You try to analyze some things too much."

"Why do you say that Ophelia?"

"That wasn't a smartass comment."  Dr. Tenent looked thoughtful.  "She was dead serious when she said that."

"How can you tell?"

"Because that's the same expression and tone of voice Mahren always had after the investigations into the two burnouts he's had on Range Four whenever someone asked him about it.  He'd told the story a thousand times, and didn't want to talk about it again because he thought he'd failed somehow."

Bellows looked thoughtful.  "There's more to this than you're saying, isn't there?"

Ophelia nodded.  "Erik had two gunshot wounds that had healed up, and a thin scar line from his left shoulder to his pectoral, and a series of small burn scars all over his body."  She noted the look on the doctors' faces.  "BEFORE he started dating McQuiston, you twits."

"Did he ever tell you how he got them?"

"No.  And at the time I thought he was being a smartass, too.  But since then I've gotten to know Erik well enough that if he doesn't want to tell you something he just won't tell you, or will ignore the question entirely.  But if he can't tell you he won't make up bullshit excuses to avoid the telling."

Polland nodded thoughtfully.  "What the hell could that girl be sitting on that's so damned painful that she won't tell anyone about it?"

Ophelia shook her head.  "Not won't, can't.  That was her way of saying sorry, I can't tell you that.  Period.  You guys are mistaking blunt honesty for subtlety."

Jadis Diabolik watched the girl her brother and Nephandus had been talking about before.  She certainly didn't seem like much, other than your standard-issue exemplar with a weird taste in glyphed and runed clothing.  The invisibility spell didn't seem to be tripping any of the wards that were visibly drawn on the walls, temporary affairs meant to be washed away later.  But wherever the girl went, especially after she got done with whatever she was doing with Ophelia, the runes and glyphs glowed an angry red color.  All in all it made Jadis wonder if she hadn't been wasting the last five minutes infiltrating the infirmary to get information for nothing.

The docs were boring.  They'd been discussing another teacher, the one who'd gone missing, or died, so she'd tuned them out and went to studying the wards that were stenciled in.  Jadis really had no interest in the range four instructor, Mahren, beyond the warm fuzzy feeling she got when she considered he'd given her brother, Malachai, detention four times in a row for breaking minor safety rules testing some of his hardware.  Malachai had more or less done a dance of joy when he'd found out Mahren wasn't coming back.  So had a lot of students, for that matter.

Now the runes...  THOSE were interesting, and they all seemed geared towards a specific end, specifically power suppression, and seemed very specifically set.  Since they glowed whenever the girl walked by, she was guessing they were attuned to her.  When she'd come out of the bathroom, Jadis had followed her straight over to a punching bag, where the girl was currently pounding on the bag with an abandon bordering on a complete loss of cool.  She was also growling to herself and swearing.  So much for Nephandus' little delusion about the girl being docile.  Strike one.

With a bit of watching whatever the runes were, it was meant to suppress something the girl was doing, probably something she had no control over.  They were powerful runes.  Strike two for Nephandus.  You didn't go through elaborate measures like this unless the person you were dealing with was dangerous.

When Jadis opened her senses two things about the girl stood out in stark contrast.  The first was the fact that the wards on her clothing filled the same function as the ones on the infirmary walls.  And whatever power she was bleeding, it was magic, and it was barely keeping that power contained, even with both ward sets supporting each other.  And strike three, Jean-Armand.  You are NOT getting my brother killed because you underestimated someone.

As Jadis came to that inevitable conclusion, the girl started drawing in energy, fast and hard, then released it, screaming in a flood of rage at the bag.  The emerald-green energy arced, jolted and hit the punching bag, causing it to burn, freeze, and explode and seemingly implode all at once into a cloud of sawdust, ash and ice.  Some of the particles floated around the girl like tiny orbiting planets, as Jadis heard peoples' feet pounding down the hallway towards them.

The girl was standing there, stunned, as if she hadn't expected THAT to happen.

Jadis' mind was made up as the girl looked at her hands, stepped back, and threw another violent storm of pure chaos at the remains of the punching bag.  An evil grin spread along her metal hair-framed face.  I am DEFINITELY not letting my brother get himself killed trying to catch this chicka.

Caitlin stared, stunned at the absolute havoc her rage had wrought as Doctors Bellows, Tenent and Polland bolted into the area with a wild look in their eyes.  The motes, burning bits and ice shards were swirling around Caitlin's body like a demented snowstorm as she summed up her feelings simply and aptly.  "Woah."

"What happened?"  Polland asked.

Caitlin started swatting away the orbital bits and shook herself off, trying to process what had just happened.  "I'm not sure."

"Wonderful, time for more tests."

"I hate you."

"We know Caitlin, we know, now come on.  We've got a lot to do and my dinner with Raul is getting cold."  Ophelia led the girl back into the scanning rooms for more work.

"So damn, must be a pain in the ass moving through all the snow and the cold."  Chaka was eyeing Diamondback up and down, with neither a trace of fear or disgust, merely curiosity.

Diamond sighed.  "It can be.  I can usually get from class to class just fine, but too long outside in this and you'll find me curled up on a heat vent trying to get warm."   Her GSD wasn't something she really liked discussing or even thinking about for the most part, but she couldn't feel anything more than honest curiosity from the girls who were considered known troublemakers by most of the staff and student body.

Chaka simply nodded an looked around.  "So what's up, we gonna stand around here and wait'll the finals or over, or should we go get some food and go do something?"

Nikki shrugged.  "Got anything in mind?"

Jericho shrugged.  "Hey me'n Razor gotta go get set up down at Hawthorne.  We gots to practice, for a bit.  Any chance you lot can go practice that shieldy thing, Fey?"

Diamondback looked in askance at her friend.

He just grinned.  "Hey, the elfy one knows what you're shielding against.  I figure she's the best one for it to teach."

Nikki smiled, but gave Sandra her space.  "If you're up for it, now's as good a time as any.  We can hit Poe and settle in and finish up before the crowd comes in."

Sandra looked over at Jericho and Razor.  "I'll catch up with you guys later.  I'll try to intercept Cait and drag her along, too."

-Sounds like a plan.  Get to it, we could use you dealing with these voodoo-fuckers.-  Razorback signed, then led Jericho out of the arena and off to Twain to pick up their gear.

"So what are those two goofballs off to?"  Chaka asked, looking at the milling crowd, who were intently watching yet another in a string of combats that the girls were getting tired of seeing for the day.

"Probably to set up their guitars for some serious music.  You'd never know it from looking at 'em but they're probably the biggest metalheads on campus."  Diamondback smirked.

Chaka's eyes went wide.  "What, no gangsta rap?  No lyrics about bros and ho's and bling?"

Diamondback rolled her eyes.  "Please, I'd have killed him YEARS ago."

Nikki chuckled and Chaka grinned.  The martial artist had a sunny tone to her voice as she spoke.  "Oh damn, I think we're all gonna get along juuuust fine."

Sandra found the two girls' enthusiasm infectious.  The other Kimbas had wandered off.  Jade had some kind of appointment, Chou needed to get her bandages changed, and the others had already meandered off to the Crystal hall for food.

Diamond noted the flag outside the Arena was green with a mix of trepidation and relief.  Relief in that it would be faster just to go to the Crystal hall over the snow.  Trepidation in that she'd have to spend more than a few minutes slithering through the snow, and she didn't have any real excuse to bow out and squirrel her way into the tunnels for her own peace of mind.

"Relax, Diamondback."  The alien, redheaded elf smirked.  "I can feel you getting nervous.  Just go with the flow."

"You sound like Jericho."  Sandra snorted.

"Speaking of that boy, how is it he's blind, but he can shoot a gun without missing everything or hitting his friends” Chaka looked at Diamondback curiously.  "I mean I can tell he's got something going, but I can't figure it out!"

Sandra smirked lightly, grateful for a topic that didn't involve her mutation.  "Good, that's how he likes it.  Joe's a bit iffy on the whole combat thing to begin with and he's not exactly what one would call scary in a fight unless he can prepare for it.  He likes to make sure that people always have to keep guessing and off-balance so he can get away with whatever he's up to.  And this isn't a new thing, he's done that since he could walk and talk."

"So is that an 'I'm not going to tell you' statement?"

"As politely as I can, yes.  Sorry, I and my friends keep each others' secrets.  If he decides to clue you in, I'll talk about it, but we like to keep our privacy.  Unlike Razor who's pretty much public about the fact that sonics bone him.  He would rather get dumped out than maim random people in a rage."

Chaka nodded.  "I didn't know about the sonics thing.  And is he really that bad?"

Diamondback nodded.  "Yeah, he's talked a tiny bit to me about the voodoos.  Don't point that doom shout of yours at him if you want him to stay rational or conscious.  When he's fighting those things he stays crazed but, I dunno, focused?"

Nikki nodded.  "He's always been just this side of wild with the Voodoo Wolves, but he's never attacked anyone else that we've seen."

"Good.  That's a good swap from normal.  He gets hurt bad enough and he loses it.  I've seen what he does in the sims when he loses it.  Anything that moves dies, ally, enemy, anything.  We've had more than one innocent bystander event in the city sims.  Doesn't happen often, but it DOES happen."

Chaka nodded.  "So why's he so prone to snapping?  I mean so far he's been a really laid back kinda guy."

Diamond shrugged.  "He picked up a weird exemplar gene that makes him almost look like a velociraptor, but he's not.  They had a paleobiology guy come check him out.  Razor's similar, but not the same as any of the raptor types.  So far as anyone can tell the spines are unique to him, and he doesn't have a dewclaw on his main toes.  Not that he needs it.  When he gets going he can shred steel.  The big problem is that his brain has the hindbrain, the part that governs aggression and instinct, overdeveloped."

Chaka winced, but Fey seemed lost in thought.  "Damn, Seems like everyone has their problems around here."

Diamondback simply nodded as the three began moving out into the snow and ice.  "So what about you guys?  I mean what's the big story of the infamous Team Kimba?"

"Just a buncha troublemakers who seem to get along."  Fey smirked slightly.  "We met on the first day and got lucky in that we all seem to get along."

Chaka smiled.  "Weeeellll... It's not as simple as the roomie here suggests, but that's the gist.  Add to that the fact that when the popular kids want to play their game of social Monopoly, we're all playing Connect-Four and driving them all nuts.  Alas, like most of the Poe crowd, we don't feel this oppressive urge to adhere to social convention."

"Which is a bad analogy for something you dunno how to explain, and are reaching into your ass for the explanation."  Diamondback smirked as Toni made a face.

"Empath?"

"Yup."

"Cheater."

The snake girl wiggled sinuously in place then gave a graceful bow before continuing to slither towards their objective.

"Nice."  Fey smirked.  "So where do you fit into the 'ol Outcast triangle?  I mean you hear stories about Razor from the upper classmen and you can't help but hear about Jericho at one point or another.  But hardly anyone has ever mentioned you."

Sandra smiled, letting the smile widen into an evil grin that showed off her fangs.  "Razor has reputation as his shield, Jericho has confusion.  I have anonymity as my best weapon."  The smile fell away.  "That and not too many people want to associate with someone who looks like a snake.  And the ones that DO have a thing for naga-esque bodies..."

The two girls nodded as Diamond gave a light shudder.  Fey spoke first.  "I can see where that might be creepy rather than comforting for you.  Especially being an empath."

"Hooo-boy.  I dunno how you do it girl, but I gotta say, I was expecting you Outcasts to be the future Columbine kids from the stories."  Chaka grinned.  "However it is you lot keep on trucking without being constantly pissed off at the world or jealous of more normal-looking people, keep it up.  And spread it around to the Thornies.  I swear those kids need a boost sometime."

"Who said I wasn't jealous?  It's just a waste of effort to hate someone for being lucky."  Diamond watched as Thuban wandered past with his small entourage of kids who had latched onto him with his Faction Three scheme.  "Some people just need to have something to rail against I guess.  I'll settle for a cold soda, some spicy jerky and a good book."

"I like you.  Don't ever change or we'll be forced to destroy you."  Chaka grinned.

"Speaking of people who need a fucking clue..."  Diamondback's voice took on a slight Texas twang and she hissed to herself.  "Detour.  Go that way.  Now!"

The sudden diversion of direction caught the Kimbas off-guard.  And they actually struggled to keep up without slipping on the ice as their erstwhile companion ducked behind Kane hall.

"Woah woah woah, McScaly, what's with the sudden shift of plans?"  Chaka looked on curiously as Diamondback peeked around the corner.

"Pucelle.  I'm in a good mood, and if I have to listen to her talk, I'll bite her.  And that'll kill the mood."

Nikki covered a wide smile.  "Not a fan I take it?"  Truth be told, neither was she or any of her friends, having had to put up with Pucelle’s hypocritical “hate the pretties” rants already.  It was worse when one realized that Pucelle was, in fact a stunning example of said ‘pretties.’

"I can take a lot of things.  I can cope with people being afraid of me, I can deal with their disgust.  I can deal with people thinking it's funny to throw food at me and then running cause they know I can't keep up."  Both of the Kimba girls exchanged dark looks at that statement as Diamond kept talking.  "But what I can't freaking stand is pity, especially not pity wrapped in bullshit friendship and sympathy."

"Yeah one of our friends said that's why the Faction Three kids don't hang out with her."  Chaka smirked.  "Personally I think it's because they can't stand to smell the garlic and habanero farts, but that's just me."

"You wouldn't happen to have anyone with the last name of Turner in your family tree would you?"  Diamondback looked at Chaka.

"Not that I know of, why?"

"Just checking, because for a moment there I had this image of you and Jericho being related."

"Oh god I hope not!  I mean what if his fashion sense is genetic?  Would it be curable?"

Nikki started snickering.

"No, I'm afraid that condition is terminal.  But so long as you don't have a massive urge towards pranks, sarcasm, and a joy for mayhem when provoked I doubt you and Joe would be related."

Toni stopped and gave Diamondback a horrified look as Fey started giggling.  "No no no, there is no possible way!  I don't have anyone in my family who dresses that badly!"  Toni stopped and considered.  "Ok besides Grandma, but she's old!”

"Oh I wouldn't worry then, you're probably just cousins and I'm pretty sure the trait's recessive.  Your children might have it though."

Toni grimaced and glared at Nikki, who was openly laughing by this point.  "Thanks for the support roomie."

Nikki wiped her eyes.  "Sorry, I just had this image of you in a neon-pink shirt wearing a green tutu going to the prom run through my head!  I couldn't stop it!"

Chaka mock-glared as Diamondback started snickering.  "Oh I see how it is.  It's a martial-artist thing isn't it?  You're prejudiced against Kung-Fu!"

"But you aren't learning Kung-Fu!"  Nikki protested.

"See there it is again!  You’re prejudiced against martial artists."

Diamondback shrugged, "Well they do kind of remind me of ninjas, and I'm more the pirate type myself..."

"Oh god.  I'm doomed."  The elfin redhead was chortling, not bothering to hide her mirth anymore.

Chaka turned to Nikki.  "You’re doomed?  How?  I'm the one in danger of developing Jericho's wardrobe here!"

Nikki smirked.  "I'm gonna die laughing.  I wanna see what happens when we stick you and the Outcasts in a one-liner competition, with the rest of us giving the cues."

"No."  Diamondback replied archly.  "The world is not prepared to face that kind of thing.  Too much of a good thing will kill you too."

"Your senses of humor are a good thing?"

"They are if you wanna stay sane in this crazy world.  Speaking of crazy if we spend much more time out here I'm gonna coil up around a boiler for a few hours.  I'm starting to feel the chill.  Can we eat now?"

"You're the one who had us hide behind Security Central," Chaka pointed out.

"Oh yeah...  Details, details, empty stomach, let's go before I eat someone."

Nikki rolled her eyes.  "Yeesh, Only at Whateley."

Jericho and Razorback grinned as they began hauling their guitar equipment across campus.  Yellow flag days...  they were created for guys like them to freak the norms, and by God they intended to get the most mileage out of their appearances in screams of terror.  Sadly for Jericho, his wardrobe had caused more screaming, consternation and horror than Razorback’s appearance all year.  At this rate the friendly bet they’d made with a jar full of money would fall to the velociraptor boy named Jack.  Fortunately Delarose hadn’t caught on yet.

Jericho grinned as the two blithely walked past Emerson, much to the irritation of some of the less forgiving boys on campus.  Among the prettyboy dorm, Jericho was the weird, blind nerd-freak who they often openly called a fag due to his manner of dress.  And speaking of dresses, Jericho’s kilt was an odd shade of puke green mixed with lime green in a plaid color that hurt the eyes.  The dark purple Moiré patterned shirt was nausea inducing.  Even Razorback couldn’t look at those weirdly reflective patterns without his stomach lurching.

-Dude, why did you have to pick that shirt out?  You know how painful it is to look at.-

“I thought I grabbed the gold silk one.  It was supposed to be the third one over in the hangar.”  Jericho turned his head toward his buddy.

-Joe you grabbed the purple Moiré thing that made me barf when we met.-

“Shit, bro, I’m sorry.  I’ll try to get it changed tonight when we get a moment.”  Jericho sounded irritated, and he was.  He just happened to have picked out a piece of clothing that was actually designed to make other people sick which was something he usually reserved for dealing with jerks, not tormenting his own buddies.

“What’cha doing near Emerson, faggot?” 

Jericho swore under his breath as Counterpoint, one of the few students deeply unafraid of Razorback’s violence level stepped out from behind a tree.  The boy was about their age, and he stepped with all the cocky arrogance of someone who thought of himself as a god amongst mortals.  The hoplite sword, a Greek-style weapon the bastard carried constantly, was strapped to his hip and sheathed.

“Chris, I thought you were looking out for a worthy fight, not hunting for a cripple to pick on.”  Jericho did not want to play tag with the lunatic, and Razorback wasn’t feeling particularly gleeful about it either.  Counterpoint was a nightmare in a pitched fight, and Jericho hadn’t exactly packed the bag of tricks he usually reserved for fights with exemplars and other bricks.

A Freshman like them, Counterpoint wore his black hair in a ponytail pulled back away from his blood-red eyes.  He was hawkish, and would be attractive were it not for his psychotic demeanor and penchant for terrorizing anyone he could.  He wasn’t much taller than Jericho, and Razorback, even in his normal stoop, had to look down to meet his eyes.

“It’s been a slow day, and you just happen to walk by my domain with the reputed worst Ultraviolent to fight, and I just gotta wonder if he’s as tough as everyone says he is.”  He gave Razorback a decidedly leering look.

The feral, raptor-like detention king let out a low growl and crouched, spines snapping rigid and upright as the deadly warning rumbled in his chest.  He dropped down so he was resting on all fours, in a deceptively submissive posture.  From that position, with his hind legs coiled underneath him, Jack could leap an easy thirty feet faster than most people, even exemplars, could react.

“Chris, can we not do this right now?”  Jericho looked nervously around at the few people milling about Emerson without moving his eyes from Counterpoint.  He could see Imperious and Stygian watching with amused expressions.  Counterpoint he was pretty sure they could take.  All three of the New Olympian boys were a different story entirely.  There was no telling whether or not imperious would watch them smear his boy while he watched, without interfering.  The other Emerson assbats milling around were of a similar stripe save Stalwart, and Paul Cambridge wasn’t a fan of Jericho’s raptor-like companion, so it was unlikely they could get backup.  Depending on the day, that was a very good thing, as Paul was known for hurting himself more than his opponents.

“Why pass up the opportunity, Jericho?  I could play with you two, or I could take it up with the two hotties, especially your little Galatea.”

“What the hell are you babbling about you psychopathic freak?”

“Oh, she hasn’t told you?  Little Galatea’s a very old soul.  I could have fun with her for hours, but I’d rather have her building what I need for me.  Maybe I’ll play my games with your little lamia instead.”

Jericho hit the trigger on his transporter, and a massive rifle/cannon flashed into existence.  He aimed it at the bully’s head.  Razorback moved into position at his side, hissing nastily at the kid threatening their friends.  “And if you touch the girls I’ll kill you, Chris.  I really don’t care if the MCO comes for me at that point.  You touch Diamondback, you die.”

“Oh please, blind man.  Everyone knows you don’t build weapons.”  He looked at the two-inch wide barrel contemptuously.

Jericho grinned.  “True.  That’s why I buy my firepower from Slapdash, asshole, and last I checked his guns have burned you down every time he’s run you in the Sims.”  Jericho clicked on the comm he’d gotten from the Kimbas by jerking his jaw to the left.  He’d modified it to be a bit less unobtrusive, as he got on the comm.  “Security this is Jericho, I got Counterpoint trying to provoke me and Razorback, and he’s going about it the right way, please send someone this way.  I don’t want to have a fight with this jackass in the snow by Emerson.”  The comm was sensitive enough that he was able to sub-vocalize and keep the psycho from hearing him.

Counterpoint’s cocky look faded slightly, only to return as Jericho noted that Imperious and Stygian were walking in their direction with amused looks on their faces.  Stalwart was approaching from a different angle.

“This is Everhart, Jericho,” the woman’s voice came from the transmitter, “Is this something you can avoid?”

“I’m dearly hoping, because two of his buddies are wandering up and I can’t outrun any of them.”

“Keep me posted Jericho.”

Stalwart arrived first.  “Jericho, pray tell why you are brandishing a weapon at this knave.”

“Hey bud, me’n Counterpoint were just having a nice, friendly chat while Razor bristles like a pissed-off porcupine.”  Jericho looked over at his reptilian buddy.  Razorback was absolutely still, not even shivering, the only sign he was alive was the growling, and the steam from his breath leaving his nostrils.

“That’s right Stalwart, we’re just having a chat... with weapons.”  Counterpoint gave the knightly newcomer a false grin.  “Wanna join the party?”

“Back off Chris,” Jericho lowered the heavy cannon he’d bartered off of Slapdash early in the year.  “Stalwart’s not going to start anything.  Are you Paul?”

The knightly sophomore scowled at Counterpoint and shook his head.  “Nay, I’ll not begin the battle, but to be sure, if one erupts I shall finish it.  I have thy back my friend.”

“Wonderful.”  Jericho managed to not inject the dripping irony and sarcasm in his voice.  He liked Paul, he really did, but the boy really needed to learn how to not get in over his head.  Come to think of it Jack and he could stand to learn that lesson themselves.

The other two boys from Counterpoint’s clique on campus, who arrogantly called themselves the “New Olympians”, sauntered up and joined their psychotic friend.  The six boys stared at each other in one of the wildest mismatches in history, with the two Outcasts and their erstwhile companion being grossly overmatched. 

Razorback’s growling dropped an octave and got louder.  He hated the New Olympians with a fiery passion that eclipsed even his personal hatred for the Alphas, and the devil-bitch leader Freya who had graduated in his freshman year.  Dicks like the Don and Aries were small-time bullies and pretty gutter-scum playing at nobility.  Imperious, Stygian and Counterpoint carried a noble air of abused power and authority.  These were the kids who knew they were destined to rule, and they barely noticed the lesser worms as they rolled toward what they wanted.  They were also among the most well-built and impressive-appearing students on campus.  These kids thought they were Gods, and Razorback despised them for their sheer arrogance

Imperious was the very definition of the word Exemplar.  At six-foot, one inch, and all solid muscle, Imperious towered arrogantly over Stalwart and Jericho.  His ghost-white hair reached his shoulders in a way that made Razorback immediately think “Sephiroth wannabe” and his eyes were a sky blue color that seemed to peer deeper than the skin.  Razorback actually noted the glamour the boys carried for the first time, a lock-on mimic for Fey’s own power, which she tried to suppress.  Imperious didn’t bother even trying, taking the awe as his due.  Jericho couldn’t see, so to his odd vision the young man was merely big and intimidating.

Stygian held the same air, and height of Imperious, but was more subdued.  His aura was more grim, forbidding, and his appearance matched it well.  His gaunt, shallow-skinned appearance was punctuated by the solid orbs of black that were his eyes.  His stringy, black hair was limp, and had been allowed to grow to between his shoulder blades.  Of all the New Olympians, Stygian actually was one of the few people who scared the hell out of Razorback, as much because of his attitude as for his powers.  His penchant for calling shades of the dead set the boy’s teeth on edge, and he’d been the direct cause of Jack’s most colossally violent outburst on record at Whateley the year before.  That had been a horrible episode, with four students uninvolved in the fight left in the infirmary, and Stygian himself damn near dead.  The worst part had been when the corpselike young man had almost seemed disappointed that Razorback hadn’t killed him.

Jericho tapped Razorack three times and dipped a hand into his pocket, palming a small sphere.  “Imperious.  Stygian.  Now I see why numbnuts here wasn’t beating the hell out of us.  What brings you to me?”

Predictably, Counterpoint rushed forward menacingly at the smartass comment as Razorback backed up in response to Jericho’s tapping.  The blind devisor’s hand whipped across and the small sphere exploded in the psycho boy’s face.  Razorback leapt forward and slammed a powerful two-legged kick into his chest, knocking Counterpoint off his feet and throwing him into a snowbank.  The boy twitched a few times as the drug released by the sphere knocked him out.  Jericho grinned evilly.  “Settle down Junior, adults are talking.”

Imperious scowled at Jericho, an expression the boy cheerfully ignored, and Stygian actually had to turn away to hide his amusement.  “That was uncalled for, blind one.”  His voice was highly annoyed as Jericho and his raptor-like companion dropped his main method of coercion with trickery.  “He will remember that and come for you later.”

“Actually he’s not going to remember the last three hours.  Me’n Jobe have an interesting little deal going on.  He makes the drugs I need for my gear, I keep his med tech fixed.  And you aren’t going to tell him.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Pray tell, Jericho...”  Stalwart gave Jericho a bemused look as the blind devisor shushed him.

“Because, you want something from me, otherwise you wouldn’t be coming in my direction to talk.  You wouldn’t want to be associated with a blind devisor with a horrific wardrobe.”

It was almost as though Imperious noticed the moiré pattern shirt for the first time.  He was able to contain the lurching of his stomach as the unnatural pattern rippled across his vision.  “Quite.  I wish for you to pass a message along to Galatea.”

“Ok that’s the second time you monkeys have mentioned a Galatea, and I don’t know anyone who goes by that name except for a busted up old Greek legend about some dude humping a statue.”  Jericho fixed Imperious with his blank, unreadable, white-eyed stare.

“The tall girl with the metal hair and eyes.  The one who spends much of her time avoiding anyone but you Outcasts and your hangers-on.”  Imperious looked more than a bit disgusted by the thought of hanging out with the mixed bag of freaks, weaklings and psychopaths the Outcasts kept contact with.  “I have business with her and you are going to instruct her to come to Emerson tonight to speak with me and my friends.”

Jericho gave Imperious a hostile look, and Razorback growled.  “I’ll tell her you want to talk, but I ain’t instructing her to do shit.  I’ll pass along the message, but if she says no, I’m not caring.”

“You will pass along the message as given or...”

“Or what?”  Jericho clicked the safety off the core ejector and let the safeties on the matter transmitter beacons fall away.  “I know you’re a badass, but if you take a step in our direction we’ll stomp a hole in your ass.”

Imperious’ face darkened like a thundercloud.  “You really don’t want to make me your enemy, Jericho.”  The implied threat was there.

“Imperious, I don’t care how powerful you and your ‘New Olympian’ group are.  You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.  Please, make a move now.  I may be a bumbling, blind Devisor, but Razorback’ll skin your boy and I got enough tricks to make you wish I’d never been born.  You screw with Diamondback and you’ll get the Fury Twins crawling down your throat.  And ‘Galatea’ as you so ineptly call her, went one-on-three with Bloodwolf’s crew and beat them down.  I think all of us will scrap your little Olympian Dream.  So please, keep threatening us motherfucker, and I’ll call up a hellstorm you haven’t fucking seen.”

Imperious seemed a bit taken aback.  He wasn’t expecting the open defiance.  He pushed forward again, though.  “Don’t anger me, Jericho.”

The blind Devisor simply stared at him.  “I will pass on the message.  If you screw with my girl, Imperious, I will call in every goddamned marker I have and squash you.”

“Who would back you and your little freak brigade?”

Jericho smiled as he went down the list.  “The Underdogs - keep smirking asshole - the Grunts, Team Kimba, Sara’s Pack, half of Twain Hall because they hate you, Thuban owes me, Caitlin has access to the Range four armory, the Fury Twins will back us, oh and you’re threatening two members of the Security Auxiliaries.”

Imperious scowled.  “Pass along the message, Jericho, as instructed.  You don’t want me as your enemy.”

“No?  You already earned me as yours, you sanctimonious prick.  So bring it the fuck on.  I haven’t busted up a good ‘fuck with the fat kid’ party in over a year, and I really miss making bullies look like a buncha dumbasses.”

Imperious raised a fist, and found the barrel of one of Slapdash’s special ordinance pieces pointed at his chest.  “Very well, Jericho, since that is the way you wish it to be, so be it.”

Imperious and Stygian left without further word, and Jericho and Razorback relaxed, slightly, noting Stalwart’s incredulous expression.  “Jericho you are a truly brave man to confront Imperious as such.  Few others dare to do so for fear of retribution.”

Jericho safed the Core Ejector and hit a stud on the inside of the weapon and released it to flash out of existence.  “Excuse me for a second.”  He walked over to a tree and promptly threw up.  Razorback was shaking uncontrollably and not from the cold, simply thankful that he hadn’t had to fight Stygian’s dead shades again and moved away from the other two boys to get his body under control again.

Paul Cambridge, perhaps the most foolishly fearless student on campus, realized for the first time watching the scene that both Jericho, his friend from the Devisor labs, and Razorback, whom Stalwart was still firmly convinced of being an evil beast that needed to be put down, had been afraid.  He didn’t have fear in his own heart for Imperious or Stygian and their bully-boy Counterpoint (who was still lying in the snow where Razorback had kicked him).  As he watched the pair even his own righteous sense of bravery didn’t blind him to the fact that Jericho and Razorback had stood down two of the most powerful upperclassmen in the school.

They had done it while being absolutely terrified of their opponents.

Half an hour after Elyzia Grimes, the magic department’s evocation teacher walked into the examination room with Caitlin, the girl had exited the locked and sealed room by the simple expedient of kicking the steel-reinforced frame out of the wall.  She fixed doctors Polland and Bellows with a look of pure rage before simply walking towards the exit, arcing bizarre energies into the protective wards.  The runes in her irises were molten as the storm around her rapidly convinced anyone who happened to be in her way to vacate the area, quickly.

Elyzia Grimes, AKA “Morticia” to the students, had just as severe and foul a reputation among the students studying things mystic as Mahren had amongst the students with classes on the firing ranges.  It was inevitable that their personalities and personal Martyr Complexes had driven them to impolitely dislike one another.  In very real ways both of the instructors had been far too much alike to get along in any way resembling civil conduct.  It appeared that Caitlin’s new situation hadn’t moderated the phenomenon at all, and Doctor Polland sighed as the willowy, brunette woman stalked up to him.

“All right Polland, fun is fun, but I want to know who that Golem belongs to.  Now.”  Her tone was angry and demanding.

“That’s not a Golem, Elyzia.  That is a sixteen year old girl, one with a colossally foul temper.”

The woman looked at him and rolled her eyes.  “No, she is not.  She looks human, feels human, and reacts like a sociopath.  But she isn’t human.  She’s a construct, one made from stone, steel, some form of crystal I haven’t seen and a hell of a lot of bloodsteel, more than I have ever seen gathered in one place, which means far too many people died in the process of her creation.”  She took a breath.  “Whoever is responsible for her creation will answer for a lot.”

Bellows looked over at his compatriot.  “I think we may have misjudged putting the two of them in the same room.”  He turned back to the outraged teacher.  “What exactly happened in there?”

“Not much to tell.  I figured out she wasn’t human or a mutant within a few minutes, while she sat there glowering at me.  After that it should have been a simple matter of determining who had built her, and what the spirit-thing empowering her was, but she refused to cooperate at any stage of the examination.  When I told her to sit down, behave and tell me who built her she clammed up and started sparking.  After a few minutes she started backtalking and making snide comments.  It escalated from there, and she went silent, turned, and kicked the door frame off the wall and left.  So my question stands.  Who built her?”  She glossed over the conversation, and the screaming match that followed.

“Oh my.”  Bellows turned the scenario over in his head again and again, reflecting on the fact that his little prank idea could very well have gotten him, Polland and Grimes torn to shreds.  He began to develop some serious respect for Caitlin’s self-control.  Mahren would have put people through walls, or tried to.  “Elyzia, she’s not a construct.  We have eyes-on who can vouch, reliably, that Caitlin started human.  She’s no constructed thing.”

“That’s impossible.  That wasn’t a human spirit running loose inside her, I could feel that much, just a tangled knot of half-formed emotion and experience.  If she was human she’d have had to have been a Hollow...” her eyes widened with sudden recognition, “...Man.”  Grimes looked back the way the enraged student had stormed away.  “It’s not possible.  She can’t be...”

“Yes, she can.”  Bellows leaned against a wall.  “We’re trying to help her, but after this my best bet would be the only way we get her back in here will be at gunpoint.”

“How long until she goes to Carson to rant?”

Polland looked at Grimes with a disbelieving look.  “Grimes, when was the last time that one ever went to tattle on anyone?  You know better.  She’s going to go someplace she can be alone and destroy everything in sight to vent her rage until she cools off.  That means either the Range Four gun line, or she’s going out into the woods, pick a spot, and kill anything alive within five hundred meters that isn’t human.”

“So what do we do about her?”

Bellows shook his head.  “We let her go, and tell security that she needs some serious alone time.  To the tune of making sure nobody disturbs her.”

“Shouldn’t we stop her and get her to her room?”

“No, we can’t force her to do anything.  Grimes, like it or not, even though Carson thinks it’s a good idea to hide her for whatever reason amongst the students, she’s a twenty-eight year old woman.  We can’t force her to do anything, even if she doesn’t have more than a falsified identity.  If we push her any more she might just walk away from the campus, or do worse to herself.  I think Polland and I might have pushed her too far this time.”

“You two...”  Grimes cocked her head as the pieces clicked into place.  Her expression hardened and she glared knives at both of the doctors in a rough approximation of the look Caitlin had shot them.  “We will discuss this later, at length.”

Bellows sighed.  “All right, I’m going to go find Hartford or Carson.  One of them might be able to run damage control here.  We seem to have made a slight error in judgment.”

Polland nodded and tried to swallow in a suddenly dry mouth.  He had no doubt that Carson would be having very pointed words with both of them soon.  “Alright.  Elyzia, can you tell me what you got specifically from examining her?”

Elyzia’s glaring, angry expression never changed.  “She’s not human anymore, not even alive, truly as you and I know it.  That entire body of hers is built as a giant, mobile mystic focus.  She looks human, acts human, and even her internal biology is, in cursory fashion, human.  But visual similarity is where that ends.  As a construct she is a nearly perfect replication of the human form.”

“Near-perfect?”

She nodded.  “She has a stone body, something similar to marble with odd, crystal properties.  Her main nerves are basically mithril threads running through her body, her bones are basically a denser form of the stone with threads of various metals lacing them, not enough to make them stronger, but to do what I think it’s set up for.  Her blood is bloodsteel and her brain and the rest of her nerves are literally formed of some kind of crystal.  Her eyes are adamant orbs set into her head with inset steel irises, marked with runes I can’t read.”

“That can’t be.  She shouldn’t even be able to move.”

Elyzia explained with far more patience than she felt.  “That’s why I thought she was a construct, Doctor.  She’s not moving out of any biological process.  Her body is literally tapping ambient mystic energies from everything around her to keep her both mobile and mostly human in appearance.  She has organ structures I’ve never seen before in addition to all the human type ones and mithril-crystal nerve clusters positioned at what most mystics would recognize as chakra points.  She is a giant mana battery, and she’s charging constantly, that violent corona she manifests is the overcharge escaping into the world.  The more emotional she gets, the more she draws, and the more she releases.  Were she to run naked and angry down a street she’d probably destroy anything she came across by accident.”

“Wonderful.  Carson’s not going to like this.”

“Polland, I don’t like this very much myself.  She’s dangerous, uncontrolled, and if I’m reading this correctly she’s the one who’s been throwing the mystic side and the Astral out of whack for the last few weeks.”

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

“You’re not a mage or a WIZ-Class mutant.”  Elyzia sighed.  “There are a few things that can cause such things.  She’s the only one I’ve ever seen mobile and sentient though.  Everyone I’ve ever met who was monumentally stupid enough to disrupt things like she has been doing by accident died because of it.”

Polland looked thoughtful.  “How far out can these disruptions you speak of be sensed?”

“Given the magnitude?  Probably all the way to Colorado.  It may not disrupt things that far out, but there will be... signs.”

“Wonderful, more good news.  Let me guess, the more her temper spikes the more noticeable these signs will become.”

Elyzia nodded.

“All right, one last thing, something I’ve been curious about for about four years now between you two.”

“I can’t promise I’ll answer that, but you may ask.”

“What’s a Hollow Man, and why did you always refer to Mahren as one?  I recall it pissed him off immensely.”

“I called Erik Mahren Hollow Man, because he is a Hollow Man.  As to what it is, I’m not sure I want to discuss the nuances of the soul and magic with someone who will merely try to couch my words in scientific claptrap that likely will have absolutely no bearing on the reality.”

“Given some of the things coming from the Kimbas and a certain blind devisor, you might be surprised what I’m open to listening to Elyzia.”  Polland shuddered.  “These last few days have been more than a little frightening and mind-bending without taking Caitlin into account.”

Elyzia Grimes shrugged.  “All right, Doctor, but for this you’re going to have to let go of everything you have ever thought you knew about God and the soul.”  She looked at Polland’s suddenly skeptical look.  “No, Doctor, I am not saying that God does not exist or that the Wiccans are right, or the Hindi or anyone else for that matter.  I have seen plenty of evidence that points to a higher power, more than would point away from one.  You must merely learn to accept that in matters spiritual, human perception muddies the details, and makes what would otherwise be crystal clear become rather fuzzy.”

“Meaning?”

Elyzia’s smirk was ironic.  “Free will is a bitch, and everything we see and know is filtered through our own perceptions.”

“I can buy that.”

“All right.  What it boils down to is somewhere in his past, Erik Mahren’s soul was damaged, effectively cored out from the inside.”  She took a deep breath.  “The human soul can’t be destroyed by anything, but it can be consumed or wounded in varying ways.  Whether this happened when he was younger or in a past life I couldn’t tell you.  Most Hollow Men are born that way, with souls that are empty and scarred over, effectively spiritual blank slates.  They don’t really react like normal people, are usually withdrawn, and tend to go along with anyone or anything that gives them direction.”

“That doesn’t seem to fit Mahren, Elyzia.”

“On the surface it wouldn’t, but the signs are there.  Unless Mahren was provoked, he would always go with the flow, but whenever he was provoked he always hit the problem with everything he had with no middle ground.  Unlike most Hollow Men who pass through their lives from one end to the other, Mahren at some point managed to ‘wake up’ from the spiritual and emotional haze.  Hollow Men have deadened emotions, nothing as strong as you or I would feel.  While not sociopathic or incapable, they tend to run with an emotional context more because they are supposed to, rather than because they really feel it.  A lover might show passion for her paramour more because she feels she should than from any real emotional attachment.  A mourner might cry at his brother’s funeral more because he knows he is supposed to than from the intensity of grief.  These people don’t function well on their own, they need people around them to help them figure out how to live, and learn to restrain themselves when they actually decide to move.”

Polland still looked skeptical, but he nodded and allowed her to continue.

“But the point is, they’re alive, but not really living.  Some recover, but it actually takes an emotional spark to wake them up enough to really feel.  Hollow Men are crippled because they are empty vessels that really give nothing and take nothing from around them.  They also have wild potential because when they wake up, whatever they take to, they do so with a mad intensity that is hard to follow by someone who doesn’t feel things the way they do.  But there is a danger.  Should this person fall back to their old habits and just let things pass and always go with the flow, they fall back to where they started, emotionally dead, no drive, nothing beyond survival from moment to moment.”

“So Mahren was just reacting to you because he thought he should feel hostile towards you?”

“Oh no.  Even before this, Erik Mahren was wide awake and raging.  Whatever woke him up got him pissed off and kept him going.  It would have to have been raw, raging emotion that woke him up to the actual world around him, Polland.  Far from being emotionally deadened, Mahren would have felt each emotion like a stabbing wound, both good and ill.  Fortunately, somewhere after waking up, he learned some measure of discipline and control, which is why he was always locked in the immediate, reactive and adaptive behaviors we have all come to see.  It’s also why we all knew Mahren as the iron-disciplined hardass the students all know and loathe.  But some things always made his control slip, and you get his pure, pissed-off moods or ecstatic highs that always gave anyone with empathic talent a headache to be around when his control did slip.”

“All right, for benefit of the discussion here, why in God’s name wouldn’t someone who had that kind of emotional backlash be hospitalized in a mental ward?”

“It’s a matter of degrees, Doctor.  Just because someone feels with an intensity that deep doesn’t mean they are nonfunctional.  Mahren channeled everything he had into whatever he was doing.  For him, life has always been an all-or-nothing game.  I barely knew the man and I saw it.  He drove himself harder than he ever drove any students, and the man almost never missed a trick on the fly.  When he put his mind to it he was the most aggressive and adaptive baseline I have ever seen in my life, and he gave himself to Cat McQuiston heart and soul.  He loved her so much it probably scared him.  The signs were all there, if one knows how to look.  And the fun part?  He never had a barometer to gauge himself, really, so to him that level of intensity felt normal.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Grimes smirked.  “You see, this is where things get fuzzy.  I don’t know all of this for sure.  I barely know the man, outside of the fact that I don’t like him, or I guess it would be her now.  I called him Hollow Man after he figured out what the term meant, and it royally pissed him off, because he thinks it means I see him as something less than human.  What it really boiled down to, was that it kept his emotions boiling and helped keep him awake, if only in tiny steps.  The fact that we never got along personally or professionally helped with that.  The only thing I know for sure is that he’s a Hollow Man.”

“Okay, so besides the emotional issues, what does being like that do to someone?”

“Among other things it makes them extremely undesirable to spirits or demons that would want to cut a deal with an otherwise normal person for the classic ‘Devil’s Deal but it also makes them wildly susceptible to things like mental coercion or possession by dangerous spirits.”

Polland looked up sharply.  “Possession.  You mean a Hollow Man would attract a spirit looking for a body.”

“Yes, it would allow the spirit to insinuate itself with little fuss.  Mahren, however, wouldn’t exactly be ideal in his awake state.  His will and emotions are too volatile for most spirits to want to risk getting too deep and caught.”

“What if he were to have ‘woken up’ after the spirit started sinking its hooks into him?”

“Then doctor, it will be a war to determine which one wins and gains ultimate control over him.”

“And the loser?”

Elyzia looked grim.  “The loser of that particular contest would face dissolution and absorption into the winner.  They would be consumed, and the winner would gain everything the loser had, be it power, knowledge, or something greater or simpler.”

“Shit.”  Polland looked back towards the door Caitlin had kicked in.  “Do you know any ways to help someone fight back and win over a spirit?”

“Yeah, go to church and pray to whatever Gods you believe in to lend strength to that girl, because at this point, it’s all in her hands.”

Diamondback hadn’t been inside any of the “Normal kids” cottages thus far in the year, so the second-floor Poe study room was nothing like she’d expected.  The spider web of ropes and silk hammocks draped all over what the Poe crazies called “Kimba Corner” surprised the hell out of her, and she felt a thin stab of jealousy at the sight.  They didn’t have anything like this in Whitman, although the oft-times depressed air on bad days didn’t lend itself to this sort of eclectic, devil-may-care setup.  Never mind Mrs. Savage would probably have a fit were someone to set up something like this in the common room of what Diamondback and her few female friends jokingly called “Freak House Femme”.  Needless to say they weren’t too popular among the pity-me parade in Whitman, though most of the girls, even the ones worse off, smirked and giggled when they said it out loud.

“How did you all get permission to get this kind of setup?”  Sandra’s voice was wistful as she looked at it.

Toni grinned.  “Mrs. Horton was cool with it, and Ayla had the hammocks, so we set up a little spot for ourselves to hang out, do homework, whatever.”

“Sweet.”  Sandra looked at the two girls in the empty common room and bizarrely felt at ease.  The vibes she was getting off them were as though all was normal, the same vibe she got off Joe, Jack and Caitlin.  As she dealt with the two forward, seemingly-open girls she felt more relaxed, something usually lacking when dealing with other people.  “Maybe if I can talk fast enough, I can con Mrs. Savage into letting us do something like this.  If not I bet me and the others can set something like this up in the Noise Farm.”

“Noise Farm?”  Nikki smirked at the Naga-like Diamondback.

“It’s what I call the tunnel room under Hawthorne that Razor and Jericho use for their impromptu jam and practice sessions on their guitars.”  She ignored the odd feelings of fascination that the elf girl was radiating as best she could, even as she did her level best to avoid staring back.  Just because she was a girl didn’t mean she had no appreciation for beauty, and Nichole Reilly had it in abundance.

Nikki smirked, feeling much as Diamondback did, with an added interest in Diamond’s unusual form.  It wasn’t an attraction thing so much as it was interesting.  She felt Aunghadhail’s curiosity, and wondered how much of her own feelings originated from that ancient spirit.  Every so often one of them would bleed over into the other.  But two things stood out about the odd girl before her.  The first was she could feel two separate emotion sets from her.  The second was that the blue and pink ley lines that usually denoted gender were there in equal number, equally strong.  It was a truly odd dichotomy, and it really piqued her interest.

“Those two are musicians?  Tell me they play better than Jericho dresses.”  Toni hopped into one of the hammocks and grinned over at Sandra.  “I mean come on, the Thornies have enough issues without having a noise pollution problem.”

Sandra grinned and tested one of the hammocks.  “Do you all mind?”  At the shaking of heads she slid onto one of the hammocks and coiled up as much as she could in it, about five feet of tail dangling off to trail on the floor.  She grinned, displaying the inch long fangs, which, unlike a snake’s, didn’t retract.  “Okay, I like this, we are definitely stealing this idea.  But no, they don’t play like Jericho dresses.  Those two metalheads are actually pretty good at what they do.”

“Small mercies,” Nikki said, wryly.  “I’d heard Jericho’s usual wardrobe was bad, but I think he went above and beyond the call of duty today.”

“And he will take every iota of disapproval with a smile on his face.”

Chaka looked over and hopped up to one of the higher hammocks.  “All right, so we’re here to learn ‘ya to shield from the Voodoo-Wolves, as Jericho named them.  Why does he get to name the bad guys, anyway?”

Nikki looked over as she settled into her own hammock.  “Because he was the first one to come up with a name for those rotting abominations?”

Sandra grinned as she semi-propped herself up.  “All right, so how does this work?  Jericho said that this stuff tends to warp minds.”

Nikki nodded.  “Yes, that would be putting things mildly.  Myself and Jack seem to have built-in protections, our friend Chou is backed by the Tao and Jericho...  Well, Jericho’s blind, but rather like Toni here, it’s hard to inflict madness upon the mad.”

“I am not mad!”  Chaka spoke with some heat, looking at her roommate.  “I’m delightfully demented.  Get it right.”

Sandra grinned evilly.  “Riiiiight.  Do I detect Jericho genetics somewhere in there?  That sounded an awful lot like he does.”

“We have already established that I’m not related to Jericho.”

Nikki giggled, “Sorry Toni, you have claimed thus, but you have yet to produce evidence that proves you right.”

“Who’s side are you on, anyway?”  Toni gave the elfin redhead a mock-outraged look.

“Whoever gets me laughing harder.  Usually it’s you.  Today it’s Diamondback.”

Sandra snickered at the two quarrelling friends.  “You two sound like Jericho and Razorback going back and forth.”

Toni looked over suspiciously.  “Which one of us sounds like which one?”

“Well,” Sandra began answering truthfully, “Nikki sounds an awful lot like Razorback, although his mercenary tendencies run more toward whoever is prettier, and Jericho just tries to drum up support whenever me and Caitlin tag-team him.”

“Whoever is prettier, huh?”  Toni grinned and marched down the hallway.  Moments later she came back with a rolled-up poster.  “I have the perfect gift for Jack then.”  She grinned as she unrolled the infamous poster, the one Peeper has been mass-marketing without her consent that had accrued quite a following, and though Nichole Reilly was loathe to admit it, some nice royalties.

“Toni!”  Fey’s outraged shriek echoed through the cottage.  “No giving out copies of that poster!”

The chocolate-skinned martial artist grinned evilly.  “Ahh, so worth it just for the outraged expressions.”

Sandra shrugged.  “Razor beat you to the punch there, Chaka.  He already has a copy of that one.”

Nikki actually looked crestfallen.  “He does?  But...  I actually like Razor!”

Toni’s gleeful and triumphant grin faded.  “Thus does another good ragging session die a painful and guilt-ridden death.”

Sandra rolled her eyes and shrugged.  “I wouldn’t worry about it, Fey.  There are two mitigating factors here.  One, Jack actually likes you enough to have told you his real name, thus eliminating you as just another poster girl...”

“And two?”  Nikki cocked her head curiously.

“None of us have the heart to tell him that said poster wasn’t exactly a consensual thing.”  She shrugged.  “You may have scared Peeper and Greasy into being more circumspect my dear, but when Razorback finds that little bit out, Peeper’s gonna have to go to the infirmary for the broken bones and to have the poster extracted from his ass.  Literally.”

Nikki blinked, and Toni grinned.  “Razorback’s unique isn’t he?”

Sandra nodded.  “Jack’s never quite what you think, even after you get to know him a while.  But he is a good listener.  Honestly Fey, if you ever wind up there and see it, he’ll probably chuck it if it made you uncomfortable.  Jack’s friends mean more to him than anything.”

The Sidhe girl nodded, somewhat bemused.  “So why doesn’t anyone have the heart to tell him about that one?”

Sandra shrugged.  “It’s Jack.  Everyone just assumes its best not to piss him off, but it’s more the fact that he doesn’t get a whole lot of people willing to actually sit down and talk to him.”

Nikki and Toni nodded.  The two girls had seen just how ferocious Jack could actually be, and the contrast of how gentle he was with his friends.  They both had to agree that it was best to have the berserker/raptor/speedster as a friend rather than as an enemy.

“Okay,” Diamondback spoke again, “explain this shielding thing, and what exactly we’re up against.”

Nikki sighed.  “I was hoping you’d forget about that.  Delarose is going to skin me alive for dragging another person into this.”

“I’m not exactly giving the boys much of a choice here.”  Diamondback shrugged diffidently.  “It’s either include me because I’m not leaving Jericho - who has been my best friend since diaper days - to pull something dangerous without help, or I go anyway.”

Toni grinned, “You know, I can’t imagine where someone would get a fool idea like that into their head.”

Nikki rolled her eyes at her roomie and looked at Diamond seriously.  “Okay, but before we start, I have a question.  It might affect how this works, so I need to know.  I’m getting two completely different emotional reads off you at the same time.  I thought I was hallucinating, but they’re separate.”

Sandra groaned.  “That would be something I don’t want the psychology freaks finding out about.  I don’t know what to call it.  It’s me, in both cases, it’s not really multiple personalities, but I dunno how to describe it, honestly.  It lets me multitask and hit problems from more than one angle when I’m figuring things out.  Jericho’s the only person I ever talked to about it, before we came to Whateley.”

Her whole demeanor seemed to shift, in a way that Toni was accustomed to with Nikki’s shift to Aunghadhail mode.  “All right, I can’t sit here while you all talk about me.”  The voice was a bit more hard-edged, and slightly deeper, but it was still Diamondback’s voice.  Anyone who wasn’t watching her closely would have missed it.

“Oh great, another spirit type?”  Toni rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, sure, spirit.  I can run with that.  Ah, great spirit of snake says you will achieve enlightenment by gnawing on your toes until they bleed.”

Toni grinned.  “And will I achieve existential bliss while I’m at it?”

“Sure, why not?  Go for it!”  Sandra turned to Nikki, “If you start spouting some mystic shit about spirits too I’m leaving.  I know you’re some kinda Fae type, but I get enough of that shit from Earth Mother.”

Nikki smirked, “Last I checked spirits weren’t high on my list of options here, but if you’re going for crazy, you’re in the right cottage.  And they keep telling me I’m Sidhe.”

“Right, don’t try to extract any promises I might not want kept.  Gotcha.”  Nikki quirked an eyebrow as Sandra seemed to change demeanors back to normal.  She shrugged mildly.  “I may be a Wiccan, but daft and uneducated I am not.”

The young Sidhe girl grinned.  “Good, that should make things easier.  Now listen closely, this is what we’re up against.”

Diamondback listened very closely as Nikki laid out the situation with the Voodoo Wolves, and thankfully let the whole “ancient oaths” aspect of the Sidhe girl’s involvement slide without comment.  Nikki found herself going into a bit more detail than she would have otherwise liked, but the few questions Sandra injected were thoughtful, pertinent and insightful.  When the tale ended, Sandra was silent, stewing.  When all was said and done Nikki could feel the serpentine girl suppressing a cold wash of fear.

Of all the reactions to the Voodoo-Wolves, Sandra and Jericho’s were the healthiest.  Both were afraid but controlled, where their friends were eager, or in the case of Jack, simply driven to the raw edge of berserker fury at the mere presence of the things.  Toni refused to think about the bleeding horrors they fought, and Chou blocked off her reactions behind a wall of determination.  All in all, fear was probably the reaction that would keep them alive.  It would keep them from making stupid, cocky mistakes.

“So you’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.”  Toni looked at Sandra with a smirk.  “Tales of the Voodoos got you a bit too nervous?”

Sandra rolled her eyes at Toni.  “I’d be lying if I didn’t think we were all way in over our heads on this one, although it’s not something anyone with a lick of common sense could let go.”

“Great!  Check it out, Nikki!  Another recruit!”

“The more, the merrier,” Nikki said without conviction.  “The chief is going to kill me.”

Diamondback grinned.  “Look on the bright side, Nikki.  At least the Chief knows that us Outcasts can finish what we start.”

“If you lot are anything like us, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Oh no worries about that, oh pointy-eared one.”  Sandra smiled at Nikki, the amusement reaching her reptilian-slitted, crystal-blue eyes.  “We’re far better at not getting caught than you guys.”

Caitlin saw Nephandus skulking in her direction long before he got near her on her way to Hawthorne.  She didn’t know Jean-Armand, per se.  She simply recognized him as one of the so-called “Bad Seeds” that included Jadis and Malachai Diabolik, or her personal unfavorite student, Jobe Wilkins.  The fact that he’d locked onto her and was following boded ill for her, and given her mood so soon after putting up with Sam Everhart and Elyzia Grimes it boded extremely ill for him if he tried to screw with her.

She brushed a lock of her nearly waist-length, reflective hair from her eyes and glanced back and saw the boy’s odd cyber-golem thing that followed him around like a lost, lovesick puppy,  Racking her brains for information was fruitless.  She knew Malachai, and had a good idea what he was capable of, but this kid...  Besides the fact that he was a typical white-blonde, blue-eyed pretty boy among the low exemplar crowd, she was drawing a blank.  Between this and her not knowing much about Razorback’s Ultraviolent status, Caitlin was swearing at herself internally for not paying attention to students who had not graced her range, or detention sessions.

It was little shit like this that was going to get her killed, or worse, tattoo-bonded all because she couldn’t be bothered to pay attention.

Her irritation manifested in sharp arcs of energy in lambent greens, bloody reds and glacial blues.  The snow around her seemed to almost flee her presence as the ground seemed to erupt madly with each step.  Worry building, she turned towards Hawthorne and the safety of her room.  He turned to follow, blithely unconcerned with her knowledge that he was following her.  He was one of the cocky ones.

She could run, or see what the devisor boy wanted.  Nah.  She continued on towards Hawthorne with a purpose.  If she got close enough, he’d undoubtedly give up and she wouldn’t have to severely hurt the boy.  If he pushed the issue, something she fervently hoped he would not, things could get ugly, and she wasn’t eager to put her self-control to the test unmedicated.

Upon reflection, she’d fallen to the most simple sins, that of pride and complacency.  Erik Mahren had been the king of his domain of Range Four and the miscellaneous classes he’d taught, comfortable in his role of teaching the kids to beat people like him in his bailiwick.  He’d taught and trained a few hundred mutant children in myriad large and small ways, and gained the respect of the Parkour Hooligans.  He’d gotten comfortable, and when things Caitlin should have at least had some basis for understanding happened she found herself floundering, with an incomplete picture.

Take for example the flash of green light at her feet as she stepped across the border of a ten-foot diameter containment circle, two perfect rings drawn in the concrete with symbols she didn’t recognize at first very carefully placed between the two.  Erik Mahren was a student of the martial, the physical, and he’d gained a solid understanding of how the various mutants worked, except for the mage types.  It was unreasoning prejudice, a common feeling of creeping unease felt by almost every line grunt when confronted with something he could never fully comprehend, yet had to fight.  It also left Caitlin absolutely clueless as to her predicament until the currents hiding behind her vision erupted into a storm around her, whipping about her like she was in the eye of a tornado, the edges lashing across her skin, eliciting multicolored arcs of energy to leap from her to the invisible barrier surrounding her, trapping her.

The storm of energy whipping the currents made it hard to concentrate, hard to think, hard to breathe.  It was like being weary, pained and euphoric all at once, and she had a hard time seeing past the vortex itself as though the world beyond were concealed by a heat shimmer or nothing more than a fevered illusion.  Even as her senses overloaded her body felt energized, charged all at once as the storm grew in intensity and then peaked.

The few seconds felt like hours, and when things finally settled only a thin whirlwind of current flowed around along both circle rings containing her.  Nephandus sauntered up, his golem-thing trailing a bit behind, cockily.  He had a grin that threatened to take his face as he stopped just outside the circle.

“Ahh, and my prey falls right into my...”  Nephandus was cut off mid-sentence by a blur of motion and flash of light, and he fell back on his hind end with little dignity.

Caitlin pre-empted the boy’s gloating rant by slamming her body forward at him.  The barrier in the circle flashed emerald green, nearly blinding in intensity as she unleashed superhuman strength against it, bolstered by her own wild mystic aura.  The barrier actually gave a bit before snapping back like a rubber band and throwing her to the center of the circle.

Nephandus had actually scrambled back a few feet before beginning to pick himself up off the ground.  When he saw the hard gaze watching him from inside the ward, he grinned triumphantly.  He came to his feet and sauntered over to the edge of the circle.  Had he been more aware of his captive he might not have stood so close.  The expression on her face was nothing short of murderous, the runes in her irises beginning to glow a dull orange as they heated.

“I knew that you could not stand against me.  Many try; all falter and fail sooner or later.”  Nephandus gave her a cocky grin that he considered winning.

Caitlin bit back the series of invective and threats of death and dismemberment.  Her response was actually somewhat restrained.  “Let me out of this circle or so help me your misery will live on in legend.”

“Really?”  Nephandus smirked.  “Perhaps you are unaware of who you are dealing with.”

“A trumped up Hogwarts wannabe who’s on the short list for evisceration?”

Nephandus got a briefly fearful expression before he realized that behind the protections of the containment circle, Caitlin was more or less powerless, and he rapidly recovered his confidence.  “I am Nephandus, bane of the light and the end of hope!  I am the seed of darkness that cannot be stopped.”

Nephandus was getting a solid rant rolling when he stopped abruptly with an irritated look.  “Where the hell are you, Mal?”

Caitlin rolled her eyes and began stalking the circle, studying the now-exposed lines and runes for weak points and imperfections she could use to breach the mystic containment.  Mal could only have been Malachai Diabolik, one of her erstwhile students who had earned frequent flyer miles on the detention express.

Nephandus reached up to his ear and tapped a devise.  “Mal, where are you?”  A moment of silence was punctuated with another “Mal?”

“What’s the matter, Blondie, backup get caught in traffic?”  Caitlin managed to inject a cheery note to her voice while snarling at the vortex of energy whipping about the nearly-perfect circle.  It had imperfections, but none solidly screwed up enough for her to exploit.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you.  Don’t bother trying to escape, that circle is perfect.”  Nephandus turned and began walking back towards Melville with his cybernetic Golem in tow.

Caitlin said nothing as she watched the boy walk away.  Sheer frustration prompted the renewed attack on the energy barrier as she slammed her fists and bolt after bolt of eldritch energy into the shield.  It didn’t help, but it made her feel better.

Adrienne and Janine walked into the Hawthorne section of the tunnels apprehensively, looking for the specific spot where they would probably find their Outcast buddies.  The Fury Twins were antsy and nervous, half-expecting rejection as they heard the telltale riff plays that signified Jericho and Razorback prepping and tuning their guitars.  The two of them turned the final corner and watched for a few moments as the boys finished setting their instruments, and Razorback immediately slammed out the opening riffs to “Enter Sandman.”

The twins looked around, seeking as the two boys ripped out the first minute of the song, playing only the instrumentals.  Diamondback wasn’t there, which was who they were looking for, and the only thing keeping the two of them there was that rare feeling of excited happiness that accompanied the two boys whenever they got a chance to play their music.  For the Fury Twins, and their empathic mirror trait, the good vibes coming off the Devisor and Rager playing the music was like a drug.  Moments of happiness for them were rare and treasured things, even if they only felt them vicariously for the most part.

“Hey you two, how’s it going?”  Jericho didn’t look up as he and Razorback made some final adjustments on the guitars.

Deimos smiled despite herself at the blind Devisor boy.  Jericho was a rare one, not exactly boyfriend materiel, but he was one of the rare kids who could shrug off the terror aura that the sisters seemed to exude constantly.  He also couldn’t care less whether his friends were among the beautiful people or wholly monstrous.

“Not bad Joe, we were just in the neighborhood and we, me and my sister, were wondering if it would be okay if we sat in on your jam session you guys do down here.”

Jericho finished adjusting the instruments and nodded to himself before standing.  Razorback simply began nodding in response to her question.

“Me compadre and I consider the two of you always welcome Janine.  Besides, you look out for Sandra when you can, and even if I didn’t like you, which I do, that’s enough to leave a spot open when you two feel like popping in.”

Razorback gave a chirp and signed something to the tune of –Plus they’re cute, so who cares?- when Joseph Turner absently swatted him.  “Bad Lizard, no cookie.”

Razorback started into his seal-like barking laughter and waved the pair over.  Razorback was always inappropriate in the humor department, and the two of them had learned to take his demented behavior with the same grain of salt as they did Jericho’s wardrobe.

-Jimmy will be down here with the usual suspects after dinner tonight.  Mind helping me set up Sandra’s Microphone?-

Phobos looked over at her sister.  “Sandra sings?  I thought you were joking about that.”

“And damn well if I do say so myself,” Jericho interjected.  “She just doesn’t know we’ll be making her sing for the Thornies tonight.  Girl needs to quit being so bloody insular.”

“I did not know that.”

-Sandra’s not exactly known for being a social butterfly, or a performer type.  But she did promise.-

“If by promise you mean was browbeaten by you...”

-Volunteered, conscripted, what’s the difference?-

Deimos just laughed.

Phobos looked thoughtful, then asked “Who all is invited to these little concerts you guys do?”

“Whoever wants to come, and can be civil with everyone, so don’t bring Aries, Counterpoint or any of the pricklings who hate on a GSD.”  Jericho thought about it for a second.  “That was a bad choice of words, given the present company.  Anyone who would point at you two, or Razorback and utter the word ‘freak’ is unwelcome at our jam sessions.”

“Okay, mind if I ask a friend along?”

“Who you got in mind?”

Phobos thought about it for a moment.  “Ayla from Poe.”

-The Goodkind kid?-

Phobos screwed up her face.  “Yeah that’s the one.  She’s been really nice to me, and she gets shit on by pretty much everyone we dislike anyway...”

Even Deimos looked doubtful, but Jericho nodded his head.

“Okay, Adrienne, we’ll give her a shot.  Just warn her what she’s walking into ok?  I know she’s doing me good with my medkits I was selling at the Science Fair, but if she pitches a fit, she’s out.”

“Yeah, I expected that.  I think she’ll behave.”

“Bring her along then, the more the merrier.”

Razorback nodded.  –I’ll behave too.  Maybe the Kimbazoids will pop down too, who knows?-

Deimos shrugged, then moved down to help Razorback set up the microphone amps, moving quickly with her four hands.  “We’ll see.  You go ahead sis, I’ll help the guys set up back here.”

“Alrighty.”  Phobos walked out of the area feeling somewhat happy, maybe today would be a good one.

“All right, now fill in the sections with that rubbery energy I showed you.”  Fey watched as Diamondback carefully yet rapidly solidified the shield meant to protect her mind from the warping reality infection that made the Voodoo Wolves what they were.  It wasn’t the same as a shield against standard telepathic or mystic onslaught, it was more delicate, and if created correctly, far more durable for its purpose.  Voodoo Wolves degraded the effectiveness of normal shields rapidly.  Bunker was getting by on pure, pissed-off stubbornness, but that could only go so far.

“How’s that?”  Sandra concentrated slightly before tying off the energy.  She looked over at Chaka, who was idly spinning her practice kukri on her fingertip like a helicopter blade.  How Chaka was able to get the oddly-curved blade to do that while appearing so bored out of her mind made her more than a bit curious.

“Not bad, Jericho wasn’t kidding when he said you picked up on things quickly.”  Fey gave her serpentine student one of her patented “melt-the-room” smiles.  “Practice that, and you should be able to hold it pretty much indefinitely.”

“Good.  Now at least I won’t have to worry about going bugnuts if those things pop up near me.  From what I gathered everyone in your little Wild Bunch is probably on top of this ‘Bastard’s’ shitlist.”

“Yeah, that is a good bet.”  Nikki grimaced slightly.  “I never thought when I came to Whateley I’d be getting hit with something like the Alphas, much less this level of insanity.

“Admit it, you thrive on the attention.”  Chaka grinned, looking over at her roommate.  “At least things never get boring around here.”

“Be careful, or your wardrobe might abruptly change to match your cousin’s.”

“I am not related to Jericho!” Chaka glared at Nikki.  “I have far too much fashion sense to be related to him.”

“So do Jericho’s parents, but there you go.”  Sandra gave a mischievous smile.  “Just think Chaka, all those lovely off-the-wall plaids, and the kilts...  Your future’s so garish I gotta wear shades!”

“You two are never, ever going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance in Hell.”  Nikki grinned evilly.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to.”  Diamondback giggled a little bit.

"Humpf!  For that, I'm not finishing that belly bootie that I was knitting for you!"

Sandra looked at Chaka snootily, and blew a forked-tongue raspberry at her.

"You know, there are places where that would make you VERY popular."  Toni gave a mock-leer as she said it.

“You’re just jealous that you’re not in my league of awesome sexiness.”  At the odd looks from the two Kimbas Diamondback started giggling again.  Nikki simply said nothing, going about her business of pretending not to be part of the conversation.

Toni just shook her head.  “Are you all this bad over at the Outcast table?”

Sandra buffed her nails on her blouse and smiled.  “Worse.  I’m on good behavior today, Jack’s not being given ammo here or we’d be seeing nonstop lewd comments and Cait’s not here to cuss like a sailor.”

"Hey, I'm from Baltimore. Most of the sailors that I've heard talk were downright prissy."

"Really?  All the sailors I know use 'fuck' to punctuate most of their sentences.  Cait just uses all the other words too, rather than getting caught up in one of them."

"You've obviously never heard a B-town boy talk. By comparison, what you said IS prissy."

"Eh, I'm from Texas, so I learned the traditional ways of cussing."

Chaka chuckled lightly, "Remember, if they UNDERSTAND what you're saying, then it's not good cussing. Hell, Rap is really just getting paid to cuss on tape."

Sandra grimaced, "Ugh, rap, no thanks, I'll stick to my Gothy music and heavy metal."

"You DO know that Goth music is just a conspiracy by the drug companies to increase the demand for anti-depression medication, don't you?"

"You have never heard of Nightwish, obviously."

"Just a diversionary technique. THEY want you hooked on Prozac."

Nikki looked up curiously.  “Cait, this mysterious friend I hear oft-mentioned and never seen?  Another personality hidden amongst your crew, perhaps passed from one to the other in times of distress?”

Chaka couldn’t resist and cut in herself, "It's a 'Man who never was' scam isn't it? You're making like there's another student, and you're secretly eating all her desserts, right?"

Sandra giggled again and composed herself for a rather serious, "Just because you two are unaware of your surroundings is no reason to go off and make baseless accusations!”

"I'm aware of my surroundings! Would I be wearing this T-shirt, if I wasn't in sunny Albuquerque?"

“Yeah, Chaka, about that shirt, Jericho wears that as part of his Tuesday best.”

"I can forensically prove that this was never owned by Jericho."

"No but it DOES indicate you two have similar clothing styles..."

Chaka harrumphed, "My proof? No one is vomiting onto the table. Quod Erat Demonstrandum. Or Zippidity Do-Dah. Whatever."

“I just thought you’d want to know, seeing how you two are related and stuff.”

"Be warned snake-girl! I know Mongoose kung fu!"

"That's fine, I skipped snake style kung fu and went straight to Jujitsu."

"Yeah, nothing like 'upgrading' to the nerfball of the martial arts."

"I like to think of it as lying through my teeth so you won't be expecting the awesome, hurricane-like power of my three months of Aikido."

"You mean that you didn't take the Savate course?"

Diamondback smirked and withdrew a tarot deck from her jacket, “Nah, not my style.  Pick a card.”  She grinned evilly, showing off her fangs.

"Nah, nah, I'm not buying that one! I know that trick! I pick a card, and three months later, I learn that you've run up $50,000 on my credit card! Get away from me, Lyndon LaRouche!"

"Hmmmm, perhaps I shouldn't have tipped my hand with Hekate until after I’d looted your booty."

Chaka looked thoughtful.  “Should'a been 'Get thee behind me, Lyndon LaRouche’.”

“Too late, you failed the invocation; there'll be no getting rid of me now.”

"Besides, I got too many people trying to loot my booty. Get in line, Scaly McSnakypants."

Sandra looked around the common room curiously, noting a helplessly giggling redhead trying to get her breathing back under control.  Why help when you can make things worse, after all?  “Is this line you speak of invisible?  Perhaps in spirit only?”

Chaka grinned as Nikki continued giggling.  "It's lined up around the building."

“But it’s all Peeper and Greasy and holographic clones of them”

“But it’s THERE!”

“Poor girl, you don’t know what you’re missing.”  Diamondback gave a theatrical sigh and followed up with a wicked smile.  “Ah well, looks like I’ll just have to loot someone else's booty then.”

"Yeah, right. Just tell Jericho that Aunt Mildred says that it's his mother's turn to bring the sweet tater pie to the family dinner this year."

Sandra got a shocked look on her face.  "Your family suicidal?  Jericho’s mother near a stove?  Are you MAD???"

"Please! Just 'cuz you melanin-deprived sorts can't take Soul Food is no reason to get down on God's Own People!"

"No Toni, Mama Turner's awesome, and I love her, but you don't ever let that woman into a kitchen, she screws up boiling WATER!  I shit you not!"

Toni grinned wider.  "Well then, there's your problem! You haven't been eating right! Obviously, several good meals of Mama Turner's Okra Surprise will fix you right up!"

"Oh hell no, last time I did that I turned green, see?”  Sandra held up a delicately scaled arm, colored emerald-green with black diamonds running along the back.

"And more will make you right!  "Either that, or you'll complete the transformation, eat the entire Sunnydale High graduating class, and become a God."

Sandra giggled despite herself, and actually considered.  “You know, that plan actually has some potential...”

“No... stop... please, I can’t... take any more.”  The giggling elf finally caught the ability to breathe again as the two mouths went silent for a few seconds.

“Should we let her catch her breath?”  Diamondback looked at the giggling redhead clinically.

“Probably, if she passes out and we have to wake her, it’ll be like trying to tiptoe around a PMSing elf.”

“HEY!”

Diamondback snickered as Fey went from giggly to indignant almost instantaneously.  “Feeling a mite mercurial today oh Sidhely one?”

“I’ll show you mercurial you dirty, rotten...”  The three girls broke down to giggling again.

Sharisha and Vanessa watched the three gigglers from the common-room door, and unfortunately Sharisha was a less than stunning example of tolerance.  Vanessa, or Vox to the campus at large, hoped her roommate wouldn’t start in today.  So far as that hope went she was doomed to be utterly disappointed as her roommate’s mouth engaged before her brain did upon seeing the GSD girl with the two Kimbas.

“Oh great, it’s bad enough that I gotta put up with a buncha boys pretending to be women in my cottage, but now I have to deal with ‘em inviting the freaks in, too?  What kinda bullshit is this?”  Sharisha glared at the two Kimbas and their “guest.”

Nikki and Chaka froze, absolutely silent and still as panic set in around their brains trying to process whether or not Sharisha had actually broken one of the cardinal rules of Poe Cottage.  Every time they flipped the statement around in their brains, they came to the same conclusion, and they were at a loss for how to respond.  Sharisha was a card-carrying bigot where the TG kids were concerned, and they were used to dealing with her, and snarling right back at her, but she’d said it in the open next to Diamondback.  Both girls had decided that Diamond was pretty cool, but she was a complete unknown, and no matter HOW cool someone seemed to be, you didn’t share with people not from Poe without risking blowing the cover for everyone there.

Sandra’s eyes popped out as Sharisha hit her two major psychological triggers, and she had a panic moment, withdrawing and leaving “Ryan,” the other half of her personality to pick up the slack.  Not truly another personality in the conventional psychological sense, Ryan was more akin to the second processor of a computer, handling tasks and sharing the load equally with “his” counterpart.  The first thing Sandra’s other realized was the sudden onslaught of panic and nervous look from both Toni and Nikki, like they were in shock that Sharisha would say something, specifically THAT, in front of an outsider.  The other thing she realized was that both statements applied equally to her.

Sandra slid out of the hammock she’d commandeered and slithered forward to the two girls who were standing in the doorway.  She immediately dismissed Vox, as the girl was giving the loudmouth an equally horrified look.  It didn’t take a freaking genius to guess that the two Kimbas were pretty much in the same boat she was given the comments and reactions.

“What do you want, freak?”  Sharisha’s attitude was evident, and she was used to the shy, lone Whitman girls who just got out of the way of the more normal-looking people on Campus.  She’d just never dealt with Diamondback before.

The slap sounded like a whipcrack, and Sharisha’s head actually hit the wall as Diamond used her insane reflexes to move her arm faster than her opponent could track.  “That’s for the freak comment.”

When Sharisha looked back up, she was somewhat stunned as Diamondback grabbed her and shoved her into the wall, again.  “And I’ll be seeing your fat, stupid ass in Arena ’77 for outing people!”

Chaka had recovered enough to begin bounding forward when Sandra turned and slithered back to the hammocks, sitting on a lower one and giving Sharisha the evil eye while the large, black girl stood there with a startled and semi-panicked look in her eye.  “Beat it, bitch or I’m gonna Chou-slap your stupid, bigoted ass!”

Nikki stood up as well, glaring at Sharisha, fury writ plainly on her face.  “I have about had it with you.  Get out of my sight or I will remove you!”

Sandra smiled evilly at Sharisha.  “I’d get going girly, I think your cottage-mates are about done with you.  And if you wanna play now, I’ve got one or two Get-out-of-Jail cards with Delarose I can use for beating you back into the hospital.  Or I could just tell the rest of Whitman that it’s open season.”

Sharisha simply turned, and walked away, followed by Vox, who gave an apologetic look before following.  She couldn’t even say anything to Diamondback, as Sharisha had violated a cardinal rule of the cottage, and the snake-girl had unknowingly taken her to task for it.

Nikki and Toni turned to Sandra curiously.  Sandra forestalled them from speaking about the incident.  “Look, I dunno the whole story behind what she said, but if you wanna talk, you aren’t going to catch shit from me, Jack or Joe.  For now, let’s just get back to the shielding and collect our thoughts, shall we?”

Nikki and Toni nodded slightly as the two Kimbas went back to the lesson.

Sometimes salvation comes bearing an odd face, or an unexpected ability.  In Caitlin’s case salvation seemed to come in the form of a precocious twelve-year-old student of the mystic arts named Clover.  The petite child’s blonde curls and innocent, crystal-blue eyes were topped by a black, conical ‘witch hat’.  The little girl was skipping towards Caitlin in one of her random “Looking for Kewl Stuff” adventures.  Fortunately Clover’s definition of cool was a lot simpler than that of the older kids’.

Clover stopped about six feet away from the circle perimeter.  “Hi!”

“Hey Clover.”  Caitlin’s mind turned over, trying to think of ways to get some help.

“How did you know my name?”

Telling the little girl the truth, that Caitlin was really “The big Meanie” who had once chased her, Abra and Pally with a bucket of water wanting to see who’d melt wasn’t exactly bright.  Nevermind as Mahren, she’d scared Clover into full-on probability mangler mode on too many occasions.  Then there was the fact that sharing would run counter to the whole point of playing at being a teenager to begin with...  “I know Miss Grimes.  I was wondering if you could do me a bit of a favor.”

“Grimsy says I’m not s’posed to let people in circles out of the circles.”

“Would it help if I said Nephandus trapped me in here?”

“NO!  Not letting out anything Jay-Arm the wonder-nerd trapped!  Not again!”

Caitlin sighed, so much for that option.  “Can you go grab something for me?”

“What?”

“My cell phone.  If you go grab it and I can get someone out here to help me I’ll give you fifty bucks.”  Caitlin was grasping at straws, and she knew that if it came down to it, she would use lethal force to keep Nephandus from binding her.

“Yer Kiddin,’ right?  You’re trapped in a binding circle, and you want a cell phone?”  The young girl’s baffled expression was like a splash of cold water for Caitlin’s frantically moving mind.

Despite herself, she started chuckling.  “Good God, since you put it that way, it does sound a bit daft, doesn’t it?”

“A little bit.  So how do I know you’re not really some kind of monster that looks like a person wanting out so you can eat me?”

“Do you know Gunny Bardue?”

“Well, YA!  He’s the old guy in charge of the crazy kids who play with guns!”

“Close enough.  Can you go find him?  He’ll be able to verify that I’m a student and not a demon, okay?”

Clover gave Caitlin a purely skeptical look until the tall, sparky, Amazonian girl reached into her pocket and produced a fifty dollar bill gingerly and set it on the ground at her feet.  A sudden surge caused it to go metallic and melt into a pile of thin slag.  Caitlin sighed and withdrew a second one, pretty much the remainder of her petty cash.

“How many demons do you know carry ready cash and ask for help from cranky old marines who know jack about the mystic arts?”

Clover blinked and nodded slowly.  It made sense, and the big girl was right.  Clover wasn’t really considering that Caitlin was counting on the idea that not too many mystic nasties dealt in dead presidents.  “Where did you say he was again?”

Outside Hawthorne Cottage, three voodoo wolves crept into the back area, near the basement windows.  Their mission was simple, snatch and dash on the artificer, and possibly infect a student or two.  They pried open one of the basement room windows, the one they had noted the artificer inside, usually.  The medallions protecting them from the senses of their enemies were intact as they slid into the room, finding it empty.

"Excuse me, what precisely do you three think you’re doing in here?”  The abrupt voice of the unassuming, balding man erupted between them, startling them into their unholy half-forms in a frenzy of attack, which passed through Fubar’s astral body with no effects.

“Temper, temper boys.  You don’t belong here.”  It was the only warning anyone had before a massive pulse of psychic energy erupted, and the first voodoo, a huge Kodiak bear-thing contracted, then imploded in a spray of black ichor.  When the mess cleared, the two remaining Voodoos stared at the walnut-sized compacted mass of flesh and bone, which was all that remained of their massive companion, in Louis’ hand.  “Sorry to say, I’m not letting you leave here alive.”

The two Voodoo-Wolves fled, straight into the arms of Sara Waite, whom he had alerted, and the new were-cougar girl who had moved in.  Louis didn’t exactly trust the demon-girl, but he trusted her a lot more than the proven threat the voodoos had manifested.  The yowling, screaming and inappropriate giggling gave testament to just how much he’d panicked the voodoo wolves.  They were fleeing so fast they failed to put up a real fight.

When the noise died down Louis stuck his head out into the hallway.  “Sara, would you do me a favor and clean up the mess, please?  I need to talk to Delarose.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

Caitlin saw the hyperactive form of Clover darting back toward her with a big ‘ol grin on her face.  Behind her, face like a storm cloud, was Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue, in his full “I was ready to get off campus and go golfing” glory.  Honestly, when she thought about it, Gunny’s golfing attire ranked only slightly below Jericho’s in the eye-throttling department.  Big, burly black men were never meant to wear that much plaid and khaki in conjunction.

God Gunny, I thought I’d burned that outfit a year ago.”  Caitlin gave an evil grin.

“Yes, and I took replacing it out of your paycheck.  Thanks for the quality upgrade by the way.”  Gunny Bardue’s angry demeanor softened a bit.   “The little bit here tells me you got yourself into a sticky one.”

“I’m not little!”

Caitlin just chuckled at Clover’s outburst.  “Yeah, Nephandus’ circle.  Little punk was waiting for me.  I’m inside it, which seems to be screwing with my ability to identify and bust out of it.”

“So how am I supposed to let you out?”  Bardue looked at the elaborate, glowing circle superimposed on the snow.

“How the hell should I know?  Break the circle?”

“No!  Don’t just break a circle!”  Clover gave a panicked look as Bardue reached a foot forward to scuff the mark.  “If you break the wrong kind of circle it’ll explode!”

Bardue froze in place, looking at the diminutive little girl who was rapidly backing away from the pair.  “All right, Clover.  You’re the magic student.  How do we break this without it blowing up in our faces?”

“Ummmm...”

Caitlin sighed.  “You don’t know, do you?”

“No?”  Clover almost cringed as Caitlin and Bardue gave each other knowing, annoyed glances.  “I’m not old enough to do the REAL magic stuff!  All my magic class is mostly learning how to gather and store essence!”

“You know, we probably should have thought of that before we asked the junior high kid.”  Gunny looked rather rueful.

“Yeah?  Since when did we ever pay much attention to how the mumbo-jumbo monkeys do business?”

“HEY!”

Bardue smirked at Clover’s outrage.  “Watch it Caitlin, you’re joining the ranks of mumbo and jumbo yourself from what I understand.”

“Gee, thanks for the support, DAD!”

“Watch your tone with me, young lady, you’re not too old to put across my knee.”  The elder black man jerked his head meaningfully at Clover, who looked a mite confused.

Caitlin bit back the scathing retort and all the swearing that was to accompany it when she caught his meaning.  She was supposed to be a student.  “All right,” she ground out, “I guess there’s no help for it.  Can you get Grimes or one of the other teachers from the magic department to come here and pop me out?”

“Wish I could Caitlin, but everyone else has gone home, and Westmont had to go take care of some business back in England.  It’s my duty night, so you’re lucky Goldilocks here found me.”

“HEY!”

“So what do I do?  Wait for Nephandus to get his act together and let me out his way?”

Gunny shook his head.  “If push comes to shove I’ll call Carson herself and have her pop the cage.  But for now I have another idea.  It’ll require another student, but I have a good feeling about her.  Besides, if I recall correctly from Westmont’s tales the girl owes you her ass.”

Caitlin wisely refrained from correcting Gunny that students on occasion owed Mahren their asses.

“Okay, you’re the boss.  I’m just gonna stand here and plan where I’m hiding the body tonight.”

“You are NOT to maim or kill Jean-Armand.”  Bardue’s statement left no room for argument, and even Clover caught the nearly silent “even if the useless little turd richly deserves it.”

Clover blinked.  “Can I have my fifty bucks now?”

“Once the circle’s down it’s yours kiddo.  I’m not exactly in a position to hand it over yet.”  Caitlin pointed at the bill in the snow at her feet.

Bardue popped open a cell phone and dialed.  After a brief moment he began talking.  “Mrs. Horton?  Yeah it’s Bardue...  No ma’am, none of your kids have gotten in trouble...  No, I haven’t been avoiding you.  Yeah, I’m still seeing Mrs. Cantrel...”  Bardue gave Caitlin a murderous glare when the shocked look crossed her face, mouthing “I know where you sleep” at his erstwhile adoptee.  “Yeah, actually I was wondering if I could borrow Miss Reilly.  Crap.  She’s gone?  Where?  Dammit.  I don’t have time to track her down.  Are any of her friends on Security Auxiliary duty there?  Yeah, I’m on the trails halfway between Poe and the Thorny Den, send her off.  Thanks.” 

“Cantrel?”  Caitlin gave Bardue a bemused look.

“Shut it you.  I got enough problems without you and the others making sarcastic comments.”

“Would I do that?”

Bardue’s glare only served to elicit a much-needed laugh from Caitlin’s throat as Clover pretended not to understand what the two were speaking of.  Just because she wasn’t old enough to be in high school didn’t mean she didn’t understand what was being said.  Fortunately her oft-ignored common sense gene kicked in and she kept her mouth shut, keeping the wide-eyed, innocent expression on while taking mental notes to tell Abra and Pally.

Chou was cold and irritated as she walked back towards Hawthorne Cottage.  Yet another misfire trying to spend time with Molly had occurred when Mrs. Horton had told her that she was to go meet Gunny Bardue.  Honestly she’d been having enough trouble with Fitzsimmons that she was leery about meeting any of the other combat instructors, and her guardians had showed a complete disdain on Parent’s day when during their walk they passed by the gun ranges.  She didn’t want to deal with them again if the old, crazy Range Instructor decided he wanted to lampoon her for his classes.

What she found wasn’t what she expected, Bardue dressed like he was on a golf course, little Clover, bedecked in her precious witch hat, or that odd, sparking girl with the runed eyes who’d told her how to beat Nex looking like she was in a barely-controlled fury.  As she approached, the old man grinned widely.

“You called for me Sir?”  Chou gave Gunny a respectful bow.

“Miss Lee, thank you for arriving so promptly.  We seem to have a problem, and we need someone with a bit more mystic sense and training than these two young ladies.”  Bardue indicated the circle.

Chou looked at the circle and the girl inside, and for once, simply tapped into the Tao immediately.

Good girl, you’re learning faster than I had hoped.  Destiny’s Wave slipped in her silent approval.

It was like the tapestry opened.  Gunny Bardue, the grizzled old teacher was an open book and she saw that he was as hard as he acted.  She also saw that he cared, and it was hard not to liken him to a bear protecting its cubs.  It was painfully clear to her that this one would cheerfully kill and die for the kids on campus.

Clover was in four places at once in the tapestry as Chou tracked the horrific mangling of fate and probability that flowed in her wake, and yet it seemed that it was a natural thing, for the Tao demanded order and chaos in equal measure, and the child absolutely exemplified chaos in an ordered place.  She wasn’t predestined to become good or evil, but both and neither, an oddity demanded by her unique place in the tapestry.  She simply was a necessary random element.

The odd girl she knew, but it still almost hurt to see and feel the gaping wound in the tapestry that leaked pure rage, grief and frustration, as well as pain.  It was contained in a binding that would cause the wound to heal, but the Tao rebelled against the healing, as it would result in an aberrant scar that was like a cancer upon the rest.  She couldn’t feel the girl in the Tao, merely the absence of where she SHOULD be, and why that primal force wanted her released rather than removed was beyond her.  Fortunately for Chou’s ailing conscience, she would rather not have to kill the girl.  The Tao’s will would be done.

While the girl watched her intently, with the runes of her eyes smoldering like hot coals, Chou stepped forward and drew Destiny’s Wave, finding the weakest point in the circle, and gently digging the blade a bare millimeter into the power flows and the lines on the ground.  She simply drew back, and the circle died, an event heralded by the odd girl whooping, and darting away from the area in which she had been trapped.

“I’d hug you, but I’m afraid of barbecuing you by accident.”  Caitlin gave her a look of genuine gratitude.  “You have just made my list of decent humans.”

Chou gave a slight smile.  “And what are most humans to you?”

“Oxygen thieves.  Mutants too, breathing my precious air…”  She said it so wryly, like an old running gag that it was very hard for Chou to feel offended, so she let it go with a smirk.

“So who did this to you?”

“Someone who’s gonna…”

“Caitlin…”  Gunny actually growled at his adoptee.

“…Wish I’d never been born when he comes back to claim his victory.”  She patently ignored the suspicious evil-eye that Bardue shot in her direction.

“No killing or maiming.”

“You said nothing about humiliating.”

“True.”

“Or injuring badly.”

“Don’t push yer luck.”

Caitlin abruptly looked up.  “Speak of the devil.”  She bolted off into the darkness with a manic speed that was surprising, leaving a trail of Technicolor energy and weird occurrences as she tackled Nephandus’ golem and literally beat it unmoving while the boy watched in shock, aghast that she somehow managed to escape his power.  The thing literally shrieked in agony every time her aura flared.

Sadly for him he wasn’t able to capitalize on her distraction when Chou, who was following closely, drop-kicked him.  Caitlin looked up as she did so.  “Aww, come on!  I wanted to at least pummel him a little!”  She looked down at the golem and delivered another bone-pulverizing punch to the things stone/cybernetic skull.  The sudden discharge of energy caused the whole thing to convulse as it seemed to go limp, dead, the spirit inside torn from its moorings and fleeing from the chaotic storm that was Caitlin in the Astral Plane.

“Should have gone after him first.”

“I overestimated the tactical threat this stupid golem presented.”

“Sucks to be you.”  Chou grinned.

“Ow, my face!  You kicked me in the face!”  For some reason neither Caitlin, nor Chou felt horrifically sympathetic.

“You’re lucky Gunny Bardue said I can’t knife you.”

Nephandus squeaked and scrambled away, only to have Caitlin grab his leg and drag him back.  He hastily grounded out the arc of energy that ripped down her arm towards his foot.

“Thought so,” Caitlin grunted as she began checking him for random bits and bytes that caused her odd current-vision to act up.  “Circe does the same thing.”

“Hey!  Those are mine!”  Nephandus went wide-eyed and tried to protest as Caitlin began removing every mystic focus, charm and devise on his person, dropping them into a small pile.  She simply shoved his hands away as he went into an absolute panic.

“Shut it Nephandus.  You are going to walk over to Gunny Bardue over there.  Now.  If you fail to be at his side swiftly, I am going to give in to my inner maniac and DISMEMBER YOU!”  Caitlin shrieked the last words into his face.

Chou looked on, half-amused, half-horrified as Jean-Armand very rapidly retreated to the irritated form of Gunny Bardue.  “Why exactly are we terrorizing the Bad Seed nitwit again?”

“Butthead there decided that I’d look good in mind-slave.  I wanted to disabuse him of the idea.”

“And you didn’t kill him anyway?  I’m impressed with your restraint.”

“Gunny there reminded me indirectly of a promise I made to Carson a while back.”

Chou looked curious.  “May I ask what this promise was?”

“I’d rather not go into it, but it more or less means I need to try to keep my temper very firmly in check, unless doing otherwise means I’m gonna die.”

“Are you a rager?”

Caitlin sighed.  “More or less.  I have a variation on intermittent explosive disorder, and mine’s violent.  Clue it in with a healthy dose of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and you can guess that my life can be interesting.”

“Ewwwww.”

“Yeah.”  Caitlin gathered Nephandus’ items, forced all of the odd energy she seemed to collect into her hands, and loosed it on the pile.  The results were.. spectacular, as they melted, froze, crystallized, shattered, then disintegrated with an unholy shriek while Nephandus wailed in protest.

“I gather some of that was valuable.”

Caitlin shrugged.  “He really shouldn’t have tried to play with me tonight.  I was already in a bad mood.”

“I noticed.”  Chou looked back at Gunny Bardue, who had Nephandus grasped by one shoulder and was speaking very quietly to the boy, whose face was going whiter than it already was.  “Think we should go back?”

“Give Gunny a sec to talk to Nephandus.  I need to calm down a bit.  When it comes right down to it, even on my best day I couldn’t hold a candle to the intimidation Gunny’s capable of during one of his quiet chats with someone.”

“Remind me not to anger him.”

Caitlin flashed a patently evil grin.  “No worries there.  You have to do something spectacularly stupid to get him going for real.”

“Does this particular incident count?”

“Oh yes.  This counts in a bigger way than he’s used to dealing with.”

Chou looked back at Nephandus critically, made sure no one else was close enough to overhear, then turned back to Caitlin.  “I think we should talk when all is said and done.” 

“Alright.  You’ve earned that much at the very least.  Thanks by the way.  I appreciate the help.”

Chou nodded.  “You’re welcome.  I’m just glad you seem more reasonable now than you did a few moments ago.”

Caitlin nodded.  “Yeah, sorry.  I have this knack for shaky first impressions, although I think I’m losing my touch.  No one I’ve met since I manifested has hated me on contact.”

“Give it time.  I have a feeling, given your reaction to Nephandus there, that there’s going to be a line at the door to kick your ass.”

Caitlin grinned, this time with actual amusement.  “Well at least I won’t get bored.”

“Want a few of my enemies?  I have the Alphas if you want them.”

“Would I actually have to touch any of them?”

“Maybe in hand-to-hand.”

Caitlin looked grossly unenthused.  She looked over at Gunny and Nephandus, and noted the expressions.  “Oops, there’s our cue.”

The two girls walked back towards Bardue and a very unhappy Nephandus and stopped about ten feet away as the old man gave Jean-Armand the death-glare he reserved for stupid people who are pushing the boundaries of “going to die.”  The Bad Seed mage flinched as the teacher began speaking.

“You have a choice now, boy.  You can answer to my daughter here for what you were going to do to her, or you can face Carson as soon as I call her back onto campus.”  Bardue’s growl could have made a mindless zombie scream in terror and flee for its existence.

“If he is smart he’ll face Carson,” Chou shrugged.

Caitlin just started chuckling evilly.  “Oh no, nothing I can do would hold a candle to Carson or Delarose in a full fury.”

Chou raised an eyebrow but said nothing.  She was trying to hear Nephandus’ mumbled response.

“I’m sorry, boyo, I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I’ll face your daughter.”

“Wise choice.  Stupid choice, but wiser than trying to talk past Carson.”  Gunny turned his back on the miserable mage.  “Let’s go Clover.  Nothing to see here.”

Clover looked torn, and was tightly clutching the fifty she’d retrieved from the snow in both hands.  She wanted to see Jay-Arm get pasted, but she knew better than to argue as she followed.

“Nice witch’s hat.”  Chou gave the smaller girl a nod.

Clover beamed at her as Bardue led her back in the direction of Dickinson.

As soon as Bardue was gone, Nephandus tried to run.  Unfortunately he wasn’t fast enough and he found himself rapidly unconscious in the snow with an angry amazon and a petite Chinese girl standing over him.  “You are SO lucky he said I can’t maim you.”

Caitlin looked over at Chou, “Did you have to knock him out so quick again?  It’s not nearly as fun stuffing an old sock in their mouths when they’re unconscious!” 

      “Then I guess I can call it mercy on my part.”  Chou couldn’t shake this nagging feeling of uneasy familiarity that had been building up between them since she cut the circle.  “Do I know you?” 

“I hope not, because I know you.”  The whole conversation was kind of creepy, considering that Caitlin’s voice sounded insanely similar to Destiny’s Wave on the occasions she deigned to speak out loud.

Chou cocked her head, curiously.  “You helped me with Nex, but there’s something else there, isn’t there?”

Caitlin sighed as she gave the unconscious form in the snow a sour look.  "Last time I saw your face it was with that blade in my chest.  Your eyes were different though.  You here to do it again?"

"Not that I am aware of.  Why, do I need to?"

"Hell, I don't even know why ya did it the first time."  Caitlin gave the girl an odd once-over, really taking in her features for the first time, while replaying memories of a past life in her mind.

“Well, as far as I know I wasn't the one who did it, so don't blame me.”

"At the time it was a mercy, so I ain't going to bitch.  Help me with this will ya?"  Caitlin wandered over and hoisted Nephandus’ stone and steel golem onto her shoulder while Chou looked in askance in Gunny’s direction, unsure if this was okay.  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill anything but numbnuts there’s ego.”

"I'm okay with that, besides I think you and I need to talk, and not just about getting trapped in circles.”

Caitlin nodded once, her eyes flickering over to the jade blade held by the smaller girl.  "Yeah, probably.  Name's Caitlin.  Thanks for the help."

“Chou, but then you knew that, didn’t you?”

"Yup.  But still, you done me a good turn so I'm more than inclined to be polite."

“I am okay with that.”  Chou looked down at Nephandus’ form on the ground.  “Well, let’s take out the garbage and see if we can’t figure this out.”

“Sounds like a plan.  You grab Blondie, I’ll carry rockass here.  I know where the duct tape is where we’re going.”

“Ah, well then lead on.”  Chou hoisted Nephandus uneasily, as the boy was somewhat bigger than she was. 

Chou watched Caitlin half-drag, half-carry the stone form of the golem through the snow in the direction of the Kirby building.  Every now and again the thing would jerk abruptly as Caitlin’s mad aura interacted with it.

“Nice work on the circle, by the way.  I need to figure out how to bust those from the inside sooner or later.”

“Well it…”  Chou huffed a bit, then repositioned Nephandus on her shoulders.  “…helps if you have a magic sword that can cut through anything.  Otherwise I don’t know if I could have popped you out.”

Caitlin nodded, pacing along beside the other girl.  “So where’d you pick that thing up?  Word on the street is you’re as baseline as a newborn babe otherwise.”

Chou shrugged.  “I got it at a gun show.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, I got it at a gun show in Knoxville.”

“I need to go to Knoxville, maybe they’ll sell me that M-1 Abrams I always wanted.”  She gave Chou a semi-sheepish look.  “I already have enough guns.”

“Okay.  I collect swords, but my collection is gone.”

“Sorry to hear it.  At least you got to keep one.”

“Yeah but I miss all the others.  I had all of the Lord of the Rings blades,” Chou groaned, missing her collection.

“So what brought you to Whateley?”

Chou smirked, “My feet.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow in response.  “That’s a first.  Care to elaborate?”

“I walked and rode a horse here from Knoxville.”

“Holy crap, you serious?”

“It took a while but it was safer than riding a plane or anything else.”

Caitlin gave Chou a long look as they approached the Ivy-covered Kirby building.  “That’s gotta be a helluva story.”

“I guess, but it’s actually pretty short.”

“Well if you ever feel like telling, I’ll be happy to listen.”  Caitlin stopped at the front door.  “Ahh, here we are.”

Caitlin shuffled around in a pocket and dragged a surprisingly large set of keys out.  She picked through the series of rune-protected keys to find the right one, then unlocked the door.

“After you.”  Chou held the door open after Caitlin got it unlocked.

“Ever been in here?”

Chou shook her head.  “No, all my mystic training has come from my mentor.”

“Well if you can sense the door and pop the lock, it'll be easier than me finding the spot and kicking it open again.  Grimes hates when I do that, and I want Nephy to be a surprise.”

“No problem.”  Chou concentrated for a moment, letting her connection to the Tao fill her, then found the invisible catch hidden behind a burn scar on the wall.  “Found it.”

“Good.  Let's get to this.  You can sniff the door.  If you can open it, the logic is you belong here so far as the students and staff are concerned.  The psychic kids go buggy trying to break in.”

Chou smirked, then focused her chi for a moment and the wall panel dropped back a bit and vanished, revealing a stairway.  “This is going to stink.”

“I’d haul him up, but you’re a safer bet.”  Caitlin began dragging the golem up the stairs.  “Once we get them into the bathroom I’ll go get the duct tape and the smelling salts.”

“Should I keep him unconscious ‘til we’re ready?”

Caitlin nodded, then stopped Chou.  “Not the guys’ room.  I wanna give the mages plenty of blackmail material, and finding him stuck in a toilet in the guys’ room is just par for the course.  This way, please.”  She stepped into the ladies’ room.

Chou looked on critically as Caitlin used a fingernail to unscrew the wall paneling on the first stall, revealing the toilet in its pristine condition.  “Are you sure you want to do face down in a toilet? I mean, we can get creative here if you want.”

“See, much as I'd love to maim Chumply here I actually promised myself I wouldn't leave him face-down with a steamer.  Besides, just in the toilet is NOT what I had in mind.”

“Oh?  What do you have in mind for him?”

“Ever see the old movie, ‘Men at Work’?”  Caitlin grinned evilly.  “Observe.”

As she watched the girl work, Chou reflected that Nephandus was in for a bad day as Caitlin duct-taped his hands around behind the bowl in the kneeling position.  She then proceeded to hunt down smelling salts and wake him before she taped his head loosely in the bowl.  The piteous whining had no effect on the girl who apparently had done this to people before.  She then proceeded to set up the inert form of the golem on top of Nephandus in the same position, like it was humping him.

Chou didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for Nephandus.  “Ah...  Lovely...  Very artistic.  Do you have any flowers?”

“I'd say yes, but Earth Mother's Garden... ehhhh, let's just say not worth the fallout.”

“Okay, but you could do some very pretty things with them, to add to the visual.”

“If you want to, feel free. I've done about as much to him as I'm willing to risk.”  Caitlin flicked her hand for emphasis, causing an angry red flare of energy to arc across her fingers.  “This isn't controllable, and it's potentially lethal.  Hence why you carried him.”

“Okay, that makes sense.  Is there any way to get that under control?”

“Yeah... But it's not exactly something I'm willing to enter into lightly.”

Chou shrugged again, “What is it?  How bad could it be?”

“What's the worst thing you can imagine happening to you personally?”

“Uhm...the entirety of the universe unraveling as the flow of the Tao is disrupted utterly.”

“Again, with the qualifying statement.”  Caitlin chuckled ruefully, “Worst thing that can happen to YOU, personally.”

“Oh...my soul being ripped out and consumed for eternity in a pool of liquid fire.”  Chou shuddered, remembering the Demon Lord of Fiery Immersion.

“Now imagine, rather than being dipped in liquid fire, becoming a prisoner in your own mind, with no thought, no will, that gets subsumed by another person eventually.”  Caitlin led Chou out of the room to Nephandus’ protests, carefully closing the door as she spoke.  “That’s why I won’t go into these things lightly.”

“And if you succeed?”

“I dunno, as far as I am aware, it’s never been done.”  Caitlin tapped her head lightly, “I have a crapton of lives worth of memories to draw from in here, and none of them are helpful.”

Chou focused, drawing on the Tao a bit to get a better read on the situation. The information was there for her.  “I can help you with that.” 

“Doubt it.  In my case, someone else ‘Helping’ except for one little thing at the end, is a big freaking boobytrap, ending with no more me, and a mindless automaton attached to them.”

“What if the person is able to help without being connected to things?” Chou asked, with certainty in her voice.

Caitlin shook her head, slightly.  “Then you couldn't make the final piece.  It HAS to be connected to something.  Trick is, finding ME in the static.  If I want to skip it, I need to find something that is wholly me.  But blood, hair, none of that'll work, because it's not my blood, eyes, or hair anymore.”

Chou frowned a bit as the girl’s words rang true in the tapestry, and the Tao seemed to pull back from the idea of directly interfering.  “It sounds like you need someone to make sure you are there, in the magical weave.”

“In the weave?”  Caitlin looked a bit confused.  “please bear in mind I’m kinda new to this mumbo-jumbo shit.”

Chou nodded, “Well, yes.  Everything is connected to everything else.  I'm not really connected, but that's a different thing than your not being connected.  What we need to do then, to fix this, is to find out where you are connected to things, especially to yourself, and get that linked into the spell.”

“Yeah, that’s actually the basic theory that was explained to me.  If it were easy someone would have already done it by now.”

“I guess the trick would be to get you into your weave again...  You feel.. oddly hollow, which is odd.  It is almost as if you are not even in yourself at all...”

“I’m not, this isn’t me.”  Caitlin gave a disgusted look at the walls.  “Let’s get the hell out of here.  Mage sanctums creep me out.”

“Sure.  So, this isn't you?  I totally understand.  This isn't me either.”

“Do tell.”  Caitlin let Chou re-lock the doorway again as the pair left the building.

“Uhm...that has to do with the sword and something I really am not supposed to talk about.  Suffice it to say that I didn't always look like this.”

“Sounds familiar.  I break something, I save a life, and some shit I'm not supposed to talk about later, and BAM!  Here I be, wishing I would wake up.”  Caitlin was surprised at just how bitter she actually sounded.

Chou sighed sadly.  “I wasn't able to save a life and here I am.”

“Can't save everyone. You can try, but sometimes shit happens. Usually when it hurts the worst.”  Caitlin said it quietly, remembering lost friends, and Cat.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I'll be honest with ya, normally I wouldn't be talking about this.  Hell, I'd have been happy continuing to duck you.  It's not something anyone has any right to ask, but if I fuck up, or if someone else gets me first, I don't want to be a damned meat puppet again.”

Chou got an odd look, then started speaking, prompted by her connection to the Tao.  “If they take you again, I will drop you, so you can move on to your next life. I swear it by the Tao.”

“Good enough for me.  I don't think Gunny Bardue could do it.”

“I will do it, if it needs to be.  But let’s keep that from happening.  If you need me to, I can guard your back.”

“We'll see.  If push comes to shove, my best defense, as Nephandus found out, I'm not as docile as the magey types are likely to believe.”

“That fighting is useful and can keep whatever from tying you to them.”  Chou felt her voice become her own again.

Caitlin chuckled darkly, “Much as I keep trying to avoid it, when it comes down to trying to stay alive, I'm not a nice person at all.”

“The Tao embraces good and evil, it just is. Bad things happen and being able to face things like that is a needed skill.”

“Good and evil are just names someone came up with to define what they thought was wrong.  Sometimes what one man calls evil is necessity to another.  What some claim is good does more damage than doing nothing.  Free will's a bitch, ain't it?”

Chou nodded as they walked aimlessly.  “That it is, and the universe itself has it.”

“Yeah, well, that's a philosophical question that I'll tackle after I take care of my more local and immediate problems.”

“True enough.  I wonder what can be done for you.”

Caitlin started considering, “Honestly everything I poke at, pokes back with the same answer.  To become what you wish to, you have to fundamentally understand who and what you are.  I thought I did, but the hits just keep on coming, and nothing's as cut-and-dried as I believed.”

Chou cocked her head for a second, as if listening to a distant sound. “Well then, Destiny's Wave says that you need to gaze at the mirror until you realize that this body is you now and that you fill this frame.”

“Who?”

“Destiny’s Wave, my sword.”  Chou smirked at the tall girl.  “She talks.”

“Pull the other one.”

“No really.”  Chou drew the blade out, and Caitlin looked skeptical until it started talking.

“Artificer, greetings.”

Caitlin’s mouth dropped open slightly.  “Why do I feel like I just died and went to Dungeons & Dragons?”

“Hey, it is not my fault.  The sword was like this when I bought it.”  Chou smirked.

“Okay, that’s kinda cool.  Creepy, but cool.”  Caitlin examined the jade blade, careful not to touch as she did so.

Destiny’s Wave sounded somewhat indignant, “Surely this is one of the least creepy things you have done.”

“Oh, compared to the last few weeks this seems downright mundane, and it scares me that I can say that with a straight face.”

The sword let out a light chuckle.  “You say that so well.”  She took a more serious tone, “I am, however, sorry for your previous death upon myself.”

Caitlin shrugged.  “Trust me.  Death’s a mercy compared to what the memories of that life were like.”

“Uh, what are you two talking about?”  Chou was confused.

“Like I said before last time I saw your face before being here at Whateley was with that sword sticking out of my chest.”

Destiny’s Wave took the opportunity to clarify, “Not yours, but another Handmaid.”

“Bear with me here, Chou. My memories are a bit jumbled. Sometimes have a hard time sorting out old lives from who I am now.”  Caitlin looked about the snow-covered campus.  “I think I screamed at Sam about something that happened in Norway back before the dark ages, and I really don’t understand everything.”

“Okay.”  Chou shrugged, “So.. what happened, besides the whole ‘I killed you’ thing, which I don't understand.”

“Let's run with what uh - Destiny's Wave? - said and run with another handmaid, whatever the hell that means.  I remember it like it was yesterday, same way I remember the first time I saw Jericho's wardrobe.  Kinda hard to sort out, but she was very similar to you.”

Chou gave a mischievous smirk, “Well, all us Chinese look alike.”

“No, same face, same build, eyes were different, and she moved like she wasn't an awkward teenager.”  Caitlin smiled apologetically, “Sorry, but you are a standard-issue awkward teenager.”

“Well, there is that…”

“Point is, I dunno why this handmaid came after me.”  Caitlin shrugged, herself as she talked.  “Hell the state I was in you could have explained at length and it would have mattered as much to me as if you told me the sky was going to be puce at high noon tomorrow.”

Destiny’s Wave spoke, adding a bit of clarification, “Her name was Chuan Lien-Hua and she was after you because you were arming an army of the dead with magical weapons.  She stopped you so she could stop the army of the dead.”

“Kay.  I'll take your word for it.  I haven't sorted out all of the memories, I don't think I could in a normal lifetime, and it fits with the kind of nasty shit I’ve been forced to do in the past.  The shit I remember at least.”

“So you were stopped by the Handmaid. That is a bit odd.”  Chou had a thoughtful look.

Caitlin clarified, “Artificer is synonymous with slave for those in the know.  One who'll never argue, nor question, no matter what nightmare you have it inflict on the natural world.”

“Okay...so a slave who makes magical items.  Right.  I think I understand better.  Uh...what do you know of the Tao?”

“Just the basics.  I skimmed the Tao-te-ching, I think I’m pronouncing it wrong, once way back in the day.  It wasn't exactly relevant to what I was up to at the time.”

“Okay...  The Tao is this current that embraces all things and nothing, it permeates everything and all things are part of it.  This current flows in balance and the Handmaid is empowered by the Tao to keep that balance.  Kind of like a lifeguard/ janitor kind of job.”

“It’s not quite like that...” Destiny’s Wave sounded indignant again, slightly miffed by the American irreverent streak.

Caitlin grinned.  “Hey, call it as you see it.”

Chou nodded, rolling her eyes.  “So, I am here to do whatever I have to in order to keep the balance be it creation, preservation or destruction.”

“Tall order for a teenager. I hope the dental plan was worth it.”

The Chinese girl grinned.  “I didn’t get dental.”

“You’re being screwed.  You should demand a raise.”

“Besides, when the Tao needs me, I get all the power of the Tao behind me. If the Tao doesn’t need me, I have no power just training.”  She smirked ruefully.  “Yeah, a raise…  If ONLY!”

“Meh, power this, magic that.  In the long run what counts is having a good head on your shoulders, the right training, and the drive to stick it to the wall when it needs to happen.”  Caitlin shook her head.  A few weeks prior, she’d have dismissed the whole Handmaid of the Tao thing as a delusional fantasy.  Come to think of it, she kept wishing the Artificer was a delusional fantasy.

“Well, I am working on that part, but the Tao has provided some nice training.”

Caitlin nodded.  “Welcome to Whateley, best training in the world.”  She winked, “Unless you’re training to deal with normal people, then it kinda falls apart.”

Chou griped, “From what I gathered I am supposed to be able to deal with anything, which is kind of intimidating.” 

Destiny’s Wave spoke next to reassure her wielder, “You can handle it. You are quite skilled and strong where it counts.”

“Deal with it as it comes.  You can't do much more, and stressing over shit only screws you in the long run.  I'm living proof.”  Caitlin mimed hypnosis.  “Don’t be like me, Chou, don’t be like meeeee.”

Chou grinned, finally relaxing into the conversation a bit.  “I'm starting to get that.  I had an easy life before all of this and I have been struggling to keep up.”

“Rough living makes a strong body, and a challenging puzzle strengthens the mind.  I'll settle for a pizza, a football game and a couple buddies.  Failing that, I have a gun... somewhere.”

“You don't talk like any girl I've ever known, you know that right?”

“So I've been told.. frequently...”  Caitlin tilted her head towards a chuckling voice only heard by her, “No, Fuub this is not an invitation to tell stories!”  Caitlin gave Chou a solemn look, “Friends don’t let friends spread blackmail material.”

“Fuub…  Is he here?”

“Nah, but the nosy bum likes to check in on me from time to time.”

Chou nodded, “Ah.. okay.  I have Immortals and the goddamned Monkey King checking in on me occasionally.”

“Rolled up newspaper.  Think about it.”

Chou grinned, “Toni uses one of those.  It's pretty funny.”

“I saw, last Wednesday or Thursday I think.”

“Really?  I don't remember you, but then again I was busy fighting.”

“I was the asshole with the Barrett blowing Demon-wolf-things to chunky tuna.  God I wish I’d had some aspirin that worked after that bit.”  Caitlin roughly pushed that memory from her head before it could start throbbing with another migraine.  “Don’t mind me when I tell you I think all of you are in over your heads.”

Chou gave a snort.  “Story of Team Kimba, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, well from what I heard, you lot need to learn the meaning of the word ‘subtle."  Caitlin gave a sardonic chuckle, “Oh the irony…”

“Subtle…  We can't do that, Chaka won't let us.”

“Don't feel bad.  I have Jericho and Razorback.  Subtle?  What's that?”

“Good point.  So, any idea on how to take care of the energy surges, besides really risky?”

“Best thing is what I got, with the wards and runic crap sewn into my clothing.  Knocks it back from fission reaction to ow, stop it, ow, stop it, ow, don't touch me.”

“I hope you can find a way to take care of this that doesn't end up with you being someone’s Muppet.”

“I already have most of the pieces.  Honestly most magey types define themselves by their power.”  Caitlin rolled her eyes, “Morons if you ask me.”

“Maybe you just need to find you own silence so you can hear that last bit.”

“Silence hasn't helped. I’m thinking about making some noise.”

“Do what you have to do, right?”

Caitlin nodded.  “Yeah, Heckel always did say I thrived on stress and chaos.”

“Heckel?”  Chou raised an eyebrow.

“Old buddy of mine.  Names have been changed to protect the guilty.”

“Ah, sort of like a codename?”

“Oh yeah, it is, mostly because him and his brother can't shut up, and they're terminal smartasses.”

“What was yours?”

“Asshole?”  Caitlin grinned.  “Usually whatever epithet came to mind.”

“Oh... you know... it doesn't sound like this really is part of your life now.  Was it some sort of past life?”

“Something I gave up.  The friends are still there, I'm not that person anymore...  I hope.”

“Okay...  So those people are still alive?”

Caitlin nodded again.

“So...  You had another life before this, so you were transformed into this?”

Caitlin shrugged, “Like I said, something I’ve been trying to move on from.”

Chou nodded.

“Alright, here’s how the puzzle works.  Give me an item, something mystic, whatever.  I handle it for a bit, and I can tell you what it is, how to make it work, how to build it, how to break it.  This one's not instinctive because it's unique to each person.  I pretty much have everything but that last piece to bridge the gap, something that defines me.”  Caitlin gave a wry look, “As you may have guessed, I’m not exactly your standard-issue mutant.”

“Tell me about it.  I am a baseline human who can take out stupid powerful mutants or what not, yeah that makes sense.”

“Baselines can always take out stupid powerful mutants. That's the trick. It's also what all the kids here seem to miss, too.”

“I've noticed.  It's kind of like those stories about those Dragonslayers.  Norms taking out super villains.  Kind of motivational in a weird way.” 

“Meh, that’s simply tales of the bogeyman that hold the base kernel of truth.  Don't fear the pros.  Fear the lucky idiot with a gun.  He may be an idiot, but he's still lucky, and he has a gun.  At least you can fight the pros.”

“Yeah.  I was scared in Boston when I fought those guys with guns.  Supervillains aren't as scary to me.”

“Exactly.  You can see what most mutants are gonna do, hell they telegraph their intent all over the place.  But a stray bullet?  Much harder to predict.”

Chou gave Caitlin an odd look.  “And it sounds like the voice of experience there with the ‘pros’."

“Like I said, I’ve had a checkered past.”

“I have a nothing past.”

“Be happy, Chou.  If doing stupid shit was an Olympic event I’d have won the gold, many many times, and I must stress stupid.”

“Yes…  But since then I have made up for lost time.”

“Just do like you did with Nex, after you got over the initial ‘Oh shit’ and pulled it together.”

“I'm still pulling it together.”

Caitlin nodded, “It’ll come, but enough fucking maudlin, no point in talking in circles till we depress ourselves.  Let's go find our friends, or pick a fight, or do anything but run around in circles hoping answers will fall from the sky.”

“You know, all this has made me hungry. Let's find some food.”  Chou looked over in the direction of the Crystal Hall.

“Fooooooood.”  Caitlin immediately started shambling towards the building while Chou smirked and followed.

Ayla wandered through the tunnels with some trepidation, both wishing she could find a way to bow out gracefully and determined to see the whole thing through.  The inhuman, four-armed redhead leading the way had a pleased smile on her face, and Ayla smiled despite the creeping unease she was feeling that had nothing whatsoever to do with Phobos’ fear-aura.  She’d learned to get along with, and even be friends with, the Fury Twin over the past few months, but she was still carting around all of the old Goodkind baggage.

The thought of walking into a room packed with the heavily GSD and the dangerous simply by virtue of existence gave her a bit of creeping dread that she mercilessly crushed every so often for the benefit of her empathically hypersensitive companion.  She had gotten to the point where she could cope fairly well with being surrounded by regular, look-like-everyone-else mutants, and Phobos looked human enough to be more tragic than terrifying, but all of her family’s worst horror stories invariably involved someone who looked wholly monstrous.

She was hearing odd, music-like sounds that were impossible to make out, baffled and muffled by the irregular construction of the tunnel system.  As the two girls came around a corner she was blasted with the thunder of a full-on bass guitar playing the opening riffs of a Metallica song, one usually accompanied by a bell tolling between each series of notes.  Oddly, for once, she couldn’t put a name to the song and the more she thought about it the more agitated she became.

She almost jumped when Phobos gently touched her shoulder.  “Relax.  You’re getting worked up Ayla.”  The girl looked at her with those three emerald-eyes in a pyramid pattern critically.  “You know we can do this again, later.”

Ayla shook her head a little too quickly as the music thundered down the tunnel, oddly lacking in any drums to keep the beat.  “No, I have to do this now.  I really do, or I might never get the guts to try again.”

“You sure?”  Phobos looked dubious.

Ayla took a few deep breaths and nodded slowly.  “Yeah, I need to do this, Adrienne.  If I don’t, then I’ll know I didn’t have the guts to give everyone the chance to show me who they are.”

Phobos smiled and nodded.  “Okay, on the upshot, if nothing else, you’ll get to hear some good music.  Jericho and Razorback can be a couple of asses sometimes but they do know how to play.”

“Which one’s Razorback?”

“You can’t miss him, big, mottled-black and looking like a spiny velociraptor from hell.”

Ayla blanched.  “No I mean which one is he playing?”  She didn’t think it was worth mentioning that she’d already seen the champion psychopath of Whateley from a distance before.  She was pretty good at picking him out and avoiding him entirely.

“Oh, he plays the lead guitar.  Trust me, when he gets going its insane.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Almost on cue the music stopped and Ayla heard a bit of hissing and snarling, like a wild animal loose, and a male voice cutting in.  “Dude, you’ve tuned your Fender three times now, if you haven’t got it perfect you never will.”  The responding animal noises came rapid-fire, tapering off and reminding Ayla of nothing so much as herself as Trevor Goodkind, imitating her Aunt Edna nattering on about some minor faux-pas at some party that no one else cared about.

Phobos grinned at Ayla’s bemused look as the notes were played bit by bit, slowly and carefully.  “Razor’s hypersensitive to sound.  He can hear an off-note that some computers would have trouble picking out.”

The two girls turned the last left and entered into the large chamber the two Outcast boys and Phobos’ sister, Deimos were occupying.  She noticed the massive form of Razorback tweaking the amplifier, then his strings on the guitar, playing a few notes, then repeating the process after she noticed the mind-warping horror of Jericho’s outfit of the day.  Had she seen the horrendous, purple-silk moiré pattern shirt he’d been wearing earlier she might have vomited.  Blindness was one thing, but that was no excuse for this absolute assault on the sanctity of good taste!

Deimos, for her part, was watching with bemused interest and noted that Ayla’s horror wasn’t for the two freaks occupying the room.  “You walk into a room with two people who don’t even really look human and its Jericho’s clothing that set you off.  I think Adrienne may be right about you.”

Ayla shook off her horrified daze as the other four-armed Fury Twin walked forward with the soft clipping sound of hooves on stone and held out her upper-right, clawed hand.  From head to hooves, with three emerald-green eyes, horns, fangs, four arms ending in sinisterly clawed hands, and a pair of whiplike tails lashing the air behind her, Deimos looked like a clone of her sister, were it not for the raven black hair that graced her head in sharp contrast to Phobos’ dark red.

Ayla took the hand gingerly and shook it as the other half of the Fury Twin terror team gave a slight smirk.  “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

Ayla Goodkind, scion of a house that reviled mutants as the monsters in the dark, gave a wan smile.  “I wasn’t so sure about myself either.”

“Have you met the guys?”

Ayla nodded, "Of course I know the anti-Christian Dior up there, and I know Phobos, but I have not yet met the rest of the room."

Jericho up close was quite different from the way Ayla had heard him described by the other students around class, or when he was wearing his usually more-baggy attire.  Far from a marshmallowy black boy of Belphegor-esque paunch, Jericho was best described as broad, with a layer of fat that covered a frame that could have been terrifying were he to become a professional weightlifter.  His face was pleasant to look at, for a guy, and his perpetually grinning face was topped by four-inch long dreadlocks and a pair of bone-white eyes with absolutely no features to them.  He simply waved at them before going back to helping his partner in crime tune the instruments.

“And that,” Phobos pointed at the mottled-black nightmare with the Fender Stratocaster, “is Razorback.  Say hi, Razor.”

The Fury twins were scary looking to Ayla’s mind’s eye, but Razorback was literally a monster.  He actually chirped at Ayla briefly before going back to lovingly tuning his guitar.  Ayla watched him with morbid fascination, realizing that even hunched over the way one expected a velociraptor to be, Razorback was nothing short of massive.  Mottled black, with brown and yellow patterns running along his body, he towered over the other kids here.  Ayla guessed he was slightly taller than Hippolyta in his naturally hunched posture.  The thought of what he’d be like if he were to raise himself upright and look down on someone made her shiver.  It was hard to appreciate just how BIG the notorious speedster actually was until one saw him up close.  The two rows of eight-inch spines running from his shoulders, tapering down to one row of smaller spines along the length of his tail made him look even fiercer.  She was surprised to note that his arms were proportioned like a human’s and about as thick as her own thigh, easily.

“Wow.”

“What?”  Jericho turned his white eyes towards Ayla.

Ayla half-pointed at Razorback.  “I didn’t realize he’s that big.”

Jericho nodded.  “Yeah.  No one really does until they’re either right under him, or he’s diving onto them in the sims.”

Ayla had the sudden thought that she’d probably crap herself if that happened.  Not that a Goodkind would say such a thing out loud.

Razorback waved his hands about, letting the sling hold the guitar up, and Jericho gave him an annoyed look before backhanding the big lug.  “You watch your fucking language.”

The big velociraptor-thing – boy, Ayla corrected herself - began an odd coughing sound that was almost like a seal barking.  She guessed it was laughing when Phobos and Deimos both stifled giggles.

“Why do I get the impression I’m the butt of a huge joke?”  Ayla didn’t ask anyone in particular.

“Because you are, it’s called life.”  Jericho grinned as he spoke.

Razorback simply stared at her with those crocodilian eyes before stalking forward toward her.  Ayla felt her heart leap into the back of her throat and try to squeeze into her nostrils as she instinctively went heavy.  She felt like a deer in headlights as she fought back the overriding panic as the boy’s massive, triangular head came within four inches and he sniffed twice.  A strange hiss/squealing noise that sounded utterly animal escaped his mouth as he backed up two steps and flashed his hands rapidly.

“Duh, Razorback, I told you that the rumors Aries were spreading were partially true before I invited her here.”  Phobos put all four fists on her hips and looked at him irritably.  “You really can be dense sometimes, you know that?”

Ayla croaked out, “Which rumors?”

“Razor says you smell both male and female.  He pretty much automatically discounts anything that comes out of Aries’ mouth just because it’s Aries.”

Jericho nodded.   “My boy here and Aries have a truly special relationship.  Aries bullies the Underdogs, and Razorback chases him up trees when he catches him at it.”

“Razor’s one of the Bully-Busters?”  Ayla looked slightly confused.  The bully-busters were a loose pack of students who liked to smash faces on bullies around campus when they stepped too far out of line for the students, but not far enough to face Delarose or the harsher teachers on campus.  Mule of the Grunts was probably the most well-known of the open Bully-Busters, with Jimmy Trauger holding second place whenever someone poked a Thorny.

Razorback gave everyone an odd look then gave a bit of a shriek before stalking over to his guitar case and putting on a necklace with a mirrored silver disc.  He clicked something on the disc and began signing again.  A monotone, robotic voice issued from the device.  -I can neither confirm, nor deny the existence of the Bully-Busters, nor can I recall any activities as such directed at Aries.  Even if he is an unusually tempting target.-

Ayla blinked.

-What, you never see a dinosaur talk before?-

“Ummmm, no?”

Jericho lobbed a water bottle at his buddy’s head.  Razor ducked and began barking and growling at Jericho, and the two began an impromptu wrestling match on the concrete.

Ayla stood, somewhat dumbstruck at the Dorky Devisor and the most notorious psycho acting like a pair of goofball BOYS.  “Are they always like this?”

Deimos gave her a look.  “This is actually pretty tame.  Those two have waaay too much fun messing with people’s perceptions.”

Jericho seemed to be having the worst of the wrestling match, but the pudgy boy was laughing like a maniac as he twisted Razor’s arm and grabbed his pinkie.  This seemed to be the signal for the play to end as the two stood up, Razor’s finger held gently between Jericho’s thumb and forefinger, his pinkie raised slightly...  Razorback shook his head like he was panicked and Jericho grinned evilly and nodded.

“Skidoosh”  Jericho dropped his pinkie and Razor let out a shriek that made the hair on Ayla’s neck stand up as he fell over.  The boys began laughing at Ayla’s weirded out expression.

“Do I even want to know?”

Jericho chuckled as Razorback stood back up.  “We found a script buried on the internet.  It’s awesome.  You’ll love it when it comes out.”

Ayla just got an odd, half-smile, half-shocked expression...  then just started laughing.  She didn’t know what else to do.

Sandra arrived in the Hawthorne tunnels before Caitlin, but not by a wide margin.  Caitlin had a small Asian girl in tow, and she grinned as she recognized Bladedancer.  She’d met the girl once before, in the tunnels, but it had more been in passing, and the rumors slipping out from her friends said she wasn’t too bad to deal with.

“Hello ladies, it’s simply MAHVELLOUS to see you!”  She slithered over to the two and gave a confident grin.

“Well, you’re in a good mood.”  Caitlin looked at her oddly.  “Who are you and what have you done with Diamondback?”

“Oh I am, found out a few things and slapped the shit out of Tempest.”

Chou did a doubletake.  “You slapped Sharisha around?”

“Yup.  She ran her mouth off about Fey and Chaka.  And she called me a freak, so I slapped her.”

Caitlin gave her a look.  “What are you not saying?”

“I’m going to be beating her ass in Arena ’77 here in a few days?”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a bigoted bitch?”

Chou gave Sandra a smirk.  “Good enough for me.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes.  “Whatever you two say.  Let’s go see the boys do their music thing, shall we?”

“You seem remarkably unconcerned for my safety.”  Sandra stuck her tongue out at Caitlin.

“You kicked Hekate’s ass, I am SO not worried about whether you can kick whoever you’re talking about into the ground, or tailslap her.  Whatever it is you do.”

“So what have you been up to, Cait?  Hardly seen you since I brought you food.”

Chou simply followed the two girls, studiously avoiding stepping on Diamondback’s tail.

“I was stuffing Nephandus’ head in a toilet.”

“You serious?  Jay-Arm?”

Chou snickered.  “Yes, she did.  I didn’t realize he whined like that.”

Sandra gave a short laugh.  “Only when he thinks you might punch him in the face.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow.  “How does that work?”

“Easy, Jean-Armand,” Sandra’s emphasis on his name was hardly complimentary, “is absolutely fearless when you start lobbing magic or psychics at him, likes to brag about how many Daemons he’s bound and forced into servitude.  However, he doesn’t exactly have much life experience dealing with football players, bullies and people who will mess up his prettyboy face when he grabs their asses.  Threaten him physically and he caves every time.”

“Good to know.”  Chou grinned.  “I’ll pass that along to Nikki.”

“Oh yeah, you two hang out a lot.”

“What’s that racket?” came a voice from Chou’s back. 

Sandra looked around.  “Cait, was that you?”

“Ummm, no.  That would be the sword.”

“Suuure it is...”

Chou smirked.  “She’s right, the sword can talk, and she sounds a lot like Caitlin here.”

“Yes I can talk, and I’ll ask again.  What is that racket?”  The sword’s voice rang out loud and clear to the three girls.

“Offhand I’d say a rendition of Seether’s Remedy.”  Caitlin shrugged.  “All in all not bad, either.”

“Certainly better than the usual cacophony I am subjected to, but still not exactly my taste.”  The sword’s voice held a fair measure of quietly suffering disdain.

“Ayla likes Brass Monkey,” Chou said by way of explanation.  Both of the other girls recoiled in horror.

“Brass…MONKEY?”  Sandra’s voice held an edge of panic to it.  “Oh my GAWD, someone actually LIKES that crap???”

“I’m with her on this one.”  Caitlin got a sour look.  “Brass Monkey’s the kinda thing one has nightmares about being subjected to in a police interrogation.  I think it’s actually listed as psychological warfare material.”  She also failed to mention that her old buddy Heckel absolutely adored the band.

“One type of music sounds like the other in these days to me, but how could something be used for torture be called music?”  Destiny’s Wave sounded confused.

“I think she’s being facetious and exaggerating.”  Chou smirked and shook her head.

Sandra  nodded.  “Not exaggerating by much though.  That level of discordant noise should be illegal.”

“I’ll stick to Nightwish and Metallica.  Brass Monkey sounds too much like a gorilla kicking itself in the nuts.”  Caitlin smirked as Chou rolled her eyes.  “Back to the cave of doom?”

“You’ve never been to the cave of doom.”  Sandra poked her friend in the chest, mindful of the odd, greenish arc that chased her finger.

“Details, details, no pokey the cranky bitch.”

“But Hekate’s not here!”  Chou’s comment stopped Sandra and Caitlin for a moment, then the two burst out laughing.

“Oh she’ll fit right in.”  Caitlin chortled as Sandra nodded, grinning.

When the three stepped into the large room with the two boys rocking out, they actually got dirty looks from the mixed bag of Thornies, Twain boys and Whitman girls until Diamondback came into view.

“Relax folks, they’re cool.”  The snake-girl’s simple statement seemed to mollify most, but there were a few hostile glares, which Caitlin pointedly ignored.  She was used to homicidal looks from the kids on the ranges.

Jericho and Razorback were grinning from the makeshift stage with their amps and pickups as the Outcast girls filed in.

“Ah, my ladies, welcome!  Sandra, please…”  Jericho got a patently evil grin as Caitlin and Chou settled in near Ayla, Phobos and Deimos, “…join us.”

Sandra smiled sweetly at Jericho as she slithered forward to the cheers and jeers of the GSD crowd while giving him the finger.  “I’ll get you for this.”

“Take a number and get in line.”

Razorback shrieked out his approval and handed a mic to Diamondback.  Then he immediately began tearing into a riff string with his guitar.  When the snake girl was just registering the fact that he was playing Jericho abruptly kicked in with his bass guitar and roared into the mic.

“What have you done now?”

The Twain crew howled their approval as two boys rammed out the riffs like they’d done it a hundred times, while Diamondback struggled to keep up with where they were.  Jericho knew Sandra, and he knew better than to leave her any room to over-think and get stage fright.  As the music played, even without a beat, she started swaying to the music, closing her eyes and pretending it was just the three of them once again.  Jericho proved that he could actually sing as he continued the male vocals of the song.

Diamondback started singing with her old friend.  Caitlin, Phobos and Deimos grinned as Sandra proved up to the task.  Apparently Jericho’s bragging that she had an incredible voice was right on the money.

Jericho turned back and howled again.

The outcasts were in full play mode, and Razorback began headbanging as Jericho tore out the chorus line.

Caitlin found herself moving to the music in her seat, while Phobos, Deimos and Ayla sat there, grinning.  Chou sat there, stunned, not having known what to expect, or how to react.  As they watched, Sandra began swaying and moving like she was in her dance class.  The effect was hypnotic, disturbing, and for the first time, a lot of the kids in the crowd began to realize that she was female, and she could move.

The kids in the room howled their approval all through the rest of the song, and Caitlin found herself caught up in the sudden, unexpected rush as Phobos and Deimos were, roaring at the top of her lungs with the rest of the kids.  Differences in age forgotten, the memory of the day’s misery fast fading, she joined wholeheartedly in the simple fun with the Outcasts of Whateley Academy, suddenly understanding, along with the two Poesies sitting nearby, just why Outcast Corner was the name of the team Jericho led.

“Well fuck me.”  Caitlin was impressed.  As used to kids using some kind of sonic shtick for their music as she was, seeing kids do it by talent alone was surprising, and refreshing.

Half a dozen “Okays!” rang out from around the room, and she couldn’t quite tell who they were, but the sheer absurdity had her laughing with her head in her arms, on the makeshift table.  Chou was chuckling to the side while Ayla looked like she was just now beginning to relax a bit. The roommates looked at each other and smiled.

Jericho set aside the guitar and wandered over with a shit-eating grin and many high-fives from his buddies, while Razor hung back to talk to Sandra, who was glaring bullets at Jericho’s back.

Caitlin, Chou, the Fury Twins, and Ayla all gave a clap as he arrived, although Ayla seemed a bit half-hearted.

“Thank you, my adoring throng, I bask in your ovation!”

The lot of them threw bits of paper and gravel at him, but lightly.  Jericho grinned and settled into a seat nearby, while the local kids from the various GSD dens settled into conversations with each other, and not a few went up to talk to Sandra about her performance.

Ayla looked thoughtful, and glanced at the irate snake-girl.  She spoke after a moment.  “You know, the singing was awesome, but that was kind of mean putting her on the spot like that.”

Phobos and Deimos exchanged smirks, as Jericho gave a thoughtful look.  “Okay, Ayla, you’re new on the scene so I shall humor you.”  He settled back, and Caitlin leaned forward, curious.

Jericho seemingly ignored Ayla’s skeptical look, looking forward, into blank space.  “Let me tell you the story of two Texas twins.  See, these two twins were my best buds, my partners in crime, me compadres.  The two of them lived for the prank, the joke, the vicious play of words, and yes, the occasional spitting and slugging match in the playground.  The two of them had everything a pair of kids could want, they were smart, relatively good looking, they had a sense of style, in fact it seemed their only flaw was their friendship with the fat black kid six blocks up the road.”

The blind Devisor continued on.  “In reality, while these twins absolutely loved to get in and do shit, to get their hands dirty, to make friends, the both of them had this problem with being atrociously shy and reserved.  Both of them had the gift for being social, but most of the time they just liked to tag along with their buddy, creating havoc and pranking and refining the ideas for mayhem he cooked up.  They were also whizzes at finding ways out of trouble, which served my fat ass well.”

“However, after a time, I realized that while they had all these things they wanted to do, they didn’t have that self-confidence to jump out and do it.  So rather than dragging them along behind me all the time, I’d sucker them, and then kick them in a direction that they wanted to go in but were leery of taking the steps.  When they wanted to take a look at the Wiccan thing, I almost had to throw them at the local coven group I knew of.  I had to spike their tempers so hard that they got their own at the student competition on the track.  Every time, I, or one of our other lunatic buddies, had to throw them to the dogs to prove to them that they were in fact as good at what they were doing as I, and Bruce, and Kaylan, and Willie, and Lord help me, even Cassidy told them they were.”

Jericho got a serious look.  “Don’t get me wrong, I am not claiming I carried their asses, far from it.  But unfortunately for Sandra, and her twin, the only way to get them to realize that they can carry their own is to startle them, then kick a boot into their ass so hard that their instincts kick in before their doubts can.”

“That seems a bit thin.”  Ayla was skeptical.

“Nope, he’s right.”  Deimos pointed a finger at the small cluster of kids talking to Sandra, congratulating her.  “That’s pure Diamondback.  She’s going to glare at Jericho a lot for the next few days, get her confidence, then thank him later.”

“How is that normal?”

Chou looked at Ayla seriously.  “There’s the difference between your upbringing and middle-class kids like us.  You have the whole ‘act like a Goodkind’ confidence thing.  Our parents just tried to guide us towards not making their mistakes in high school.”

“And sometimes it doesn’t work.”  Caitlin shrugged.  “It took me getting so hatefully mad at life that I should probably be in jail right now to get me to stop playing the wallflower from hell.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine, I’ll never understand what growing up rich feels like.”  The sparking Artificer gave a wicked grin.

“Touché.”  Ayla looked thoughtful.  “Why is nobody glaring at me for being a Goodkind here?”

“Because you’re not acting like the Goodkinds.”  Chou spoke quietly.  “I mean look, would any of the rest of your family be caught dead in here in a room packed with the freakish and nightmare-inducing?  Their words, not mine.  I’ve seen the press-conferences.”

“Yeah.  Is it okay if I admit that I’m trying not to panic still?”  She looked at Phobos.  “It’s not like I can hide it from you.”

“But you’re doing a very good job of suppressing it.”  The red-haired Fury twin pretended to buff her nails on her shirt.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Both of the twins got slow, crazed, shit-eating grins.  “Now where would you get an idea that I’d do something like that?”

Ayla narrowed her eyes slightly.  “I vill haff my revenge!”

“Looking forward to it, dearie.”

Caitlin chuckled.  “All right, I’m going to go inflate Diamondback’s ego some more.”

Jericho nodded.  “Agreed.  Let’s go.  You ladies play nice while we rub my best friend’s nose in her insecurities, and tell her not to leave them on the carpet anymore.”

“You, sir, are a bastard.”  Ayla smirked.

“And I ate a baby!”

Cait and Jericho arrived at the same time as Jimmy Trauger, Razorback’s so-called cannibal buddy.  Caitlin knew better, having had a long chat with Delarose over cards about some of the Ultraviolents on more than a few occasions, even if she wasn’t that awesome at paying attention to the whole picture.

Razorback set his guitar down, gave Jimmy a fist-thumping handshake, and grinned.

"Nice playing guys.  Always glad to see you around."  Jimmy turned to look at Sandra and grinned.  "Damn, Diamond, if I'd known you could sing like that we'd have hijacked you from Whitman and dragged you over here to Hawthorne."

Sandra grinned slightly, showing off her fangs.  "Well I still might wind up there, after all I do make a few of the staff nervous with the whole poison-spitting act."

"What's a little venom between friends?"  Apparently Jimmy T was in good mood.

"Hey Jimmy, trying to escape the cage?"  Caitlin grinned at her fellow Hawthorne inmate.

"You know Caitlin?"  Jericho asked.

"How can I not?  She visited the common room on movie night and couldn't figure out which language she was using.  I STILL want to know what the hell you were saying.

"HEY!  I haven't spoken anything but English for the last couple days!"

"I guess God DOES answer prayers!"  Jimmy grinned.

Razorback gave out a barking laugh, then began signing.

"Whaddya men you pray for a pony?"  Sandra grinned at him.  "The Crystal Hall has food whenever you want it."

Razorback signed again.  Even Jericho looked a bit disturbed.  "Dude, that's just... eww.  You eat them RAW???"

Razor nodded enthusiastically.

Caitlin chuckled.  "What, nothing wrong with going native.  Done it before.  Hell, I've eaten spiders, scorpions, bugs, dogs, cats, you name it."

"GROSS!"  Jericho and Sandra were unanimous in their opinions of that.  Jimmy T just laughed.

"At least you don't have a rep for cannibalism."  The shapeshifter kid said.

"Give me time."  Caitlin smirked.  "I have this feeling I'm gonna have a rep for being one of the most fucked up kids on campus."

"You're a Hawthorne inmate, you're already there."

"Good point."

"So got a question, Cait.  You ever going to pick a codename?"  Sandra looked thoughtful.

"I dunno.  I thought about it for three minutes, but everything I come up with sounds too pompous or obnoxious for words."  Caitlin began ticking off the list.  "Metalhead, Soulforge, PMS Assault, Bitch-on-wheels, Skullthumper, The Amazing Wiseass..."

"Ugh, you really are too much of a tomboy for your own good."  Sandra began thinking.

"OOH!  Picking codenames?  Can I help?"  Jimmy grinned maniacally.

Jericho grinned.  "I've always been fond of Amazon, hell, you're built like it."

Caitlin looked at Jericho.  "I'm not THAT big."

"Cait, you're almost as tall as Hippolyta, and that's saying something,"  Sandra cut back, "and you've got that warrior-princess look going on, too hot to handle, bench presses Volkswagens on her off-time."

Caitlin looked skeptical, but let that pass.  "So any other suggestions?"

"So what kinda power schtick you do?"  Jimmy asked thoughtfully.

"In theory, magic, and I can thump the shit out of things pretty handily."  Caitlin looked around quietly, lost in thought.  "What I know for sure could fill a thimble, and the staff is equally lost in the sauce."

"How about Mystique?"  Jimmy grinned.

"Jimmy have you lost your fucking mind?  I am NOT fighting Marvel in court!"

Jimmy chuckled.

Jericho leaned over.  "How about Arcane?  It kinda implies both magic and something beyond understanding."

Caitlin shook her head.  "Good idea Jericho, but that one's taken.  Arcane graduated from Whateley five years ago."

"Galatea?"  Sandra asked quietly.

Caitlin shuddered as memories of a time bearing deep purple tattoos flashed through her mind.  "Never mention Galatea around me again, please.  Those are not pleasant memories."

Four pairs of eyebrows raised at once, but no one seemed to want to pursue the line of questioning when Caitlin started spitting out curses in Greek.

Razorback let out a short, feral shriek, and waited, then he began signing again now that everyone was actually paying attention.  Sandra grinned.

"Eldritch."  She looked at Caitlin, "Razor says you should be called Eldritch.  Magical and poorly understood, but not beyond comprehension."

Caitlin stopped and looked at Razorback.  It really was not a bad idea.  Plus it seemed to fit better than any of the others.  She gave Razor a smile and nodded to him.  The six-foot-four spiked lizardman gave a satisfied chirp and began tuning the guitars again.

Jimmy grinned.  "Well freshthings, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I have places to go, people to eat...  err, see."

Razor gave Jimmy a short shriek and pumped his fist in the air while everyone else sort of laughed.  It wasn't as funny when you realize he actually tried it once.  Razor and Caitlin looked nonplussed, both had done worse to people.

A grinning farewell later, and Jimmy was off to parts unknown, to do havoc as only a shapeshifter could do.

Caitlin grinned as Jericho looked over, and pointed at a metal table.  "Hey Caitlin, gimme a beat for the next song.  We're playing Enter Sandman next, just need you to keep a steady pace."

"Kay."

Caitlin began tapping out a slow, steady beat which Razor immediately picked up and began playing Metallica’s song.  Slowly it all picked up and Sandra began singing.

A Whateley Academy Story

Call the Thunder

By Joe Gunnarson

Chapter 6:  There is no homework, only Zuul!

 

Tuesday, December 13, 2006

Lieutenant Simeon Trout jaunted across the quad, allowing his gaze to sweep across his domain, taking everything in.  He was still spitting mad about that bloody girl who came through his office like a hurricane and cowed three members of his squad with hardly any effort whatsoever.  His back still spasmed occasionally from whatever she’d done to him.  He turned into Schuster Hall in the early morning, hoping to catch Collins before his appointments began.

The latecomer students MID cards were being prepared, and he needed to get in with the mandatory data from Whateley to facilitate the MID registration.  Fortunately this process also allowed him to get some measure of revenge against that amazonian bitch of a teenager.

Agent Collins was a stereotypical MCO suit, expensive clothing, carefully tended hair, and of course, the mirrorshades.  The man had a perpetual scowl on his face that he wore every time he went into a field operation that warranted his personal attention.  The man disliked mutants since he started in the agency.  Trout had walked his first beat with the man under his original name.  Neither of them was particularly fond of mutants, but Trout had always had more an eye for the big score than the moral imperative.  Never mind the MCO paid better for information about up-and-coming threats than they paid their agents.

The agent’s scowl lessened a bit as he recognized his former partner.  “Ah, Lieutenant, I was wondering when someone would be bringing in the Materials package for this particular run.”

“I decided it’d be best if I brought in the stuff myself to avoid tampering.”

Collins nodded.  “So anything of note this time?”

“Short batch, only eight kids this time.  Only one with a B-warning due to biological alterations.  Boy’s probably going to be wheelchair-locked for the rest of his life.”

“Anything my agents need to be appraised of?”

Trout shook his head.  “Nah, kid’s fine unless you decide to pull off the respirator.  Then you might have some problems.  He’ll be here with a nurse to make sure his apparatus stays tight though.”

“Bad?”

“He’s one of those rare kids for whom I’d ask for a gentle hand, Collins.  Kid’s going to have trouble staying alive, much less causing trouble.”

“Alright, I’ll give him to Sanchez.  He’s a bit more sympathetic when it’s kids involved.”  The MCO agent looked Trout up and down.  “So if there’s nothing of interest, why are you looking like you’re about to put the hammer down on someone and gonna deeply enjoy it?”

Trout shrugged, forcing his expression under control.  “Number seven.  There’s a bit extra in there for you.  Girl’s likely to not be entirely forthcoming.”

“I take it you would rather her subjected to a bit more of a harsh Q&A session?”

“If you think you can handle the little hellion.”

Collins grinned, “I live for the hellions, buddy, you know that.  I’ll see to her myself.”

“Good to go.  Burn the extra after you’ve entered it.  No point in letting Carson see that there was extra baggage in the works.”

“And I’ll make sure you get the standard finders’ fee.  I’m assuming it’s accurate?”

“Culled straight from Delarose’s Director files, although it’s skimpy for what he packs into those files.”

“Don’t get caught doing that Trout.”

Lieutenant Simeon Trout sneered.  “Please, not even Buxton knows I found a way into those files.  Let me handle Delarose, you handle your end.”

* * *

Caitlin tried to ignore the knocking on the door to her room, desperately trying to find some moment of mental quiet.  Maybe if she could find a moment of internal peace, sleep would come.  The knocking continued, an annoyingly staccato sound, ramming against her eardrums in the perfect quiet of her room when she finally rolled out of bed for the eighth time that night.  She should have been tired, damn near dead to the world, as this was her fourth night in a row without sleep, but she was as alert and aware as she would have been at noon with a pot of coffee on a normal work day.

“It’s Six-thirty in the morning, somebody had better be dead!”  Shouting felt good, it helped her forget briefly that she should be going bugnuts crazy from sleep deprivation.

The door clicked and Elyzia Grimes’ face poked in.  The face got a panicked look and the woman began frantically waving and talking.  “Cait, it’s me, Jimmy-T.  I woke up like this, sorry, but I was told to come get you!”

The words came through, and jarred her to the realization that she was growling - loudly - and her corona had erupted in a hellish, yellow, arcing glow that illuminated the room.  She forced her temper back in the box she kept it in, and growled something as the surging energy subsided.

“Sorry, what?”

“Out!”  She managed not to yell, or shriek somehow, “I need to get dressed.”

“Right.  I’ll be right outside.”  The head popped back out into the hallway.

Caitlin swore under her breath as she began searching for her clothing, a task made more difficult by the suppression runes cut into the walls of her new room.  It caused the currents and energy to swirl around like a cyclone, partially obscuring what she was looking at.  Normally she could separate things out easily, but in here, where everything was contained, absorbed and shunted, vision required one to open the door at least once an hour to let the excess backwash out.  Jimmy had only partially cleared the room by cracking the door.

Once she was dressed, she opened the door, and felt and saw the cyclonic rush, causing her skin to spark wildly as she looked in the hallway for her unwanted interruption.  In Elyzia Grimes’ place was the thin, wiry form of Deadeye.

“Better Jimmy, not by much, but better.” 

The shapeshifter grinned in response.  “Not a fan of military madness?”

“I have enough madness in my life.”

“Ouch.  I would strongly suggest an alternative school then.  Whateley has nothing but madness, and it’s not getting any thinner.”

“Yay, I can look forward to chronic dementia in my old age.”

Jimmy grinned.  “That’s the spirit.”

“You’re fired.”

“So I was told to come get you for the MID session for you and the other Johnny-come-latelies.”

“Oh, perfect, just what I always wanted, a morning bull session from the Mutant Control Office, or the Mutant Commission Gestapo, whichever you prefer.”

“Ah, reasons to be unfond much?”

“Maybe someday I’ll tell you about it.”

Jimmy smirked.  “We’ll call it a date for later then.  But for now, we have been awakened at this repulsively early hour for the purpose of paying homage to the Law Gods.”

“I suppose this can’t be any worse than the medical examination.”

“If you’re lucky.”

“Aren’t you cheery this morning, Jimmy?  Lead on.”

The shifter kid shrugged, keeping his distance from the sparking and wildly flashing Exemplar, cringing at the occasional grunt of pain or swearword that she let slip as her unholy aura did something that either annoyed or hurt her.  He knew that she couldn’t stop it any more than Compiler could quit going haywire, but it did grate that there was nothing he could do to help.  Just like with all his Thornie buddies.

After a few minutes walking out into the cold, Jimmy looked at her.  “Aren’t you cold?  Most kids on campus can’t handle walking outside with just a t-shirt, jeans and some fingerless gloves.”

Caitlin shrugged.  “I picked up a lot of resistance to temperature when I manifested, plus I grew up in Alaska, so this wouldn’t bother me even before.  It’s what, Twenty-Two degrees?  Easy money here.”

Jimmy chuckled.  “Funny, Kodiak says the same thing.”

“Kodiak would be a tolerable human being if he didn’t gleefully hang out with the campus Douchebag brigade.”

“Agreed, but you gotta admit, there are worse people in the Alphas.”

“Like all of them?”

“Exactly.”  Jimmy grinned.

Caitlin rolled her eyes.  “I’d rather hang out with the other Outcasts.  At least they don’t try to pretend to be better than everyone else.”

Jimmy grinned slightly, “And I have to agree with you, even if Jericho’s a bit off-putting and Diamondback’s a bit too moody for my taste.”

Caitlin snorted.  “Usually it’s Razorback that I hear people bitching about.  Was he really that bad last year?”

Jimmy nodded.  “Worse, actually.  For the longest time I actually thought he was murderous.  When he first got here it was like watching a wild animal trapped in a small space, surrounded by food.  It wasn’t till a few people bothered to learn sign language that he stopped trying to habitually bite off limbs put too close in his direction.”

“So what changed?”

“He mauled someone he liked.  It didn’t help that Aries was provoking him the whole time.  Razor was antisocial, hostile, tended to growl at anyone who got close.  The only person he’d let near him is Spider over in Dickinson.”

“Spider?”  Caitlin ransacked her brains for a few moments, and brought the image of a dark-haired Australian girl with the lithe frame of an elf of fantasy novel fame.  “Oh you mean Koala?”

“Don’t let her hear you call her that.  She despises the fact that she got stuck with that codename.”  Jimmy chuckled.  “She doesn’t get on well with the other elfy types on campus.  Hell, the last time one of ‘em tried to claim she was a Baroness and that Spider needed to recognize her nobility, Spider had a full-on Diedricks’ moment, only with less screaming and more throwing of pulse charges and Electron-accelerator cannon shooting.”

“Heh.  That sounds like Koala.”  Caitlin grinned to herself.  She’d absolutely adored driving that girl batshit calling her by her codename… constantly… even when it was unnecessary.  “I’m guessing the Sidhe types got a hard lesson in the difference between Fae, and a human with pointy ears?”

“Ohhh yeah.”  Jimmy grinned.  “Razorback has the recording somewhere.  He brings it out when the dorm needs a morale boost.”

“I’m not surprised.  That sounds like something he’d do.”

“Oh yeah.  Razor’s a real character once you actually get to know him.  He spent most of last year in the last semester biting his tongue damn near off, literally, whenever his temper started spiking.  This year it’s like night and day.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“So what’s your story?”

Caitlin stopped for a second and considered.  “My story’s long, involved, and uncomfortable for me to talk about.  Needless to say I didn’t always look like this; in fact I was kind of a dog.”

“It’s an improvement, I’m sure.”  Jimmy turned toward Schuster Hall.  “I’m just glad your change to how you look now didn’t go to your head.”

“If I ever start acting like Majestic, or any other poncy little shit with a sense of entitlement, feel free to break out the long knives, it means I’m an imposter.”

“Will do.”

Caitlin grinned.  “Thanks Jimmy.”

“For what?”

The sparking, metallic-haired girl shrugged.  “Helping me forget stupid shit with a good laugh, even if it doesn’t last long.”

Jimmy grinned from ear-to-ear… literally.  “Always glad to lighten a dark mood.  Unfortunately we’re here, so you need to get your game-face on Caitlin.”

“Eldritch when we’re around the suck-suits please Jimmy.”

“Gotcha.”

Caitlin looked at the mixed bag of about seven students waiting in the woodworks to talk to the MCO.  None of them looked thrilled to be there, and she saw at least three frightened looks.  She sighed, suppressing feelings of hatred as she saw the three dark-suited agents of the Mutant Commission Office.  It wouldn’t help her cause to show outright hostility and anger.  Dollars to donuts, the agents present were unaware of the existence of Butcher’s Row.

That didn’t change the fact that one of the agents looked right at her and got a hard look.  Great.  He was expecting her, and he’d already decided she was a shithead, whether it be her appearance - which was just off-human enough to be disturbing to the unprepared - or the fact that she was bedecked from head to toe in mystic sigils.  In any case, whatever it was he didn’t like about her was more or less irrelevant.

“Miss Bardue, come with me please.”  The man’s demeanor was like a dog chomping at the bit to bite someone.  Caitlin’s face creased up with a pleasant smile that for once wasn’t forced.

If he wanted to fuck with her, she was going to fuck back.

Caitlin simply walked into the office he indicated and sat down in the chair, ignoring the fold-out biometric scanner sitting next to the chair.  She made herself comfortable and even remembered to fold one ankle over the other in a fashion Diamondback had told her was something more dignified than her usual Poor White Trash mode of seating that involved a controlled flop and sprawl that could occupy most of a common room couch.

The agent settled behind the card table he’d been allowed as a desk during his tenure at Whateley, shuffling through files, and finding one.  He made a big show of opening it and flipping through the paperwork.  Once he was done, he looked up at the girl who sat stock-still, unmoving, watching him… and was slightly unnerved.  She almost looked like a statue except for the slow breaths she was taking.

“Miss Bardue, my name is Agent Stephen Collins, and I will be conducting your interview today.  For the purposes of the MCO and TSA I am required to record this conversation.  Do you have any objections?”

“Well, yeah I do considering the contents of this interview are protected by international law and under the privacy act of 1974.”  Caitlin smirked.  She knew one thing about cops of any stripe, that if you gave them what they asked for without giving them more one could aggravate the shit out of a lot of them.  Not that she considered MCO goons to be cops…

Agent Collins’ eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her quietly.  “And how would you be under that impression?”

“My adopted father works here at Whateley with mutant kids every day.  How do you think I know that?”  Caitlin suppressed an internal grin.  This could be fun, even if under normal circumstances she despised people who tried to rules-lawyer their way out of things.

“Well, this interview isn’t protected by that law.”

“Well then if that be the case I’ll go get Dad right now and he can sit in on the interview.  Be right back.”

Caitlin started to get up while Collins glared bullets at her.  “Sit.  I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

Caitlin smiled sweetly.  “Good to hear.  Turn the recorder off.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You can or I’ll turn it off and get Delarose down here and you can discuss privacy laws pertaining to minors with him.”  Caitlin thought for a minute.  “Oh and Mrs. Carson.  I’m sure she’d be absolutely thrilled to hear your interpretation of the laws pertaining to MID interviews.”

Caitlin again suppressed a smile as Collins got a face like he was chewing on a turd.  The man reached over, visibly clicked off the recorder at the corner of the table and placed it inside a briefcase which he judiciously closed and locked.  She leaned forward and helpfully picked up a pen and used the end to click on the silence generator he was supposed to have active to prevent bugs, shotgun mikes, or even regular eavesdroppers from listening in.

“There we go.”  She gave the sour agent a smug look.  “I’m ready to continue, how about you?”  Hell, if she could keep him occupied for a sufficient amount of time, none of the other kids waiting would have to suffer this douchebag’s attention.

Collins took a moment and composed himself.  Caitlin locked his eyes and held them silently.  That’s right asshole, I play hardball.  You’re up to bat now, let’s see if you strike out.

“The file given me by the school here says you are a WIZ, a Devisor, an Exemplar and an Esper.  May I ask why the Wiz and Devisor ratings don’t have classification numbers?”

Caitlin nodded.  “I’m unclassed there because we can’t get a solid read on it due to this delightful little lightshow.  There’s been a lot of speculation, but until I can consciously focus even a little bit or direct it, not a damn thing can be done because the whole magic thing fluctuates from harmless, to obnoxious, to painful, and then up to very-likely-lethal, depending on how fast and hard I’m moving.  The Devisor slant seems interlocked, so no one’s really sure what the hell I can do.”

“So you have absolutely zero control over who it affects or how?”

“More or less.  It’s one of the many reasons I dislike getting physically approached.  I don’t want someone else being injured by accident.”

“What about by intent?”

“What about it?”

“Can you harm someone with it intentionally?”

“Can a spork actually be used as a deadly weapon?”  Caitlin’s return question was entirely facetious.  She’d seen Prison Bitch gouge out someone’s jugular vein with a spork once.

“Why are you being uncooperative?”

“I’ll be cooperative the instant you stop trying to shimmy around U.S. Law and quit asking me inane and pointless questions that would only be incriminating in the future if the MCO decides it doesn’t like me.”

“Young lady don’t you even dream you get to dictate how this interview will be conducted.”

“Fine, fuck you, I’ll have Dad pop the paperwork for a retiree dependant MMID.”

Collins stopped as Caitlin uttered the words he didn’t want to hear.  Military Mutant I.D. cards were a blank spot in the MCO records.  The only time the military ever shared that information with any outside agency was posthumously, or in the one case of a mutant soldier going on a six-state killing spree when his girlfriend cheated on him during a deployment.

Caitlin looked the man in the eye.  “I’m only cooperating as much as I am as a courtesy to the Headmistress’ desire to have this school not be listed as an enemy of the establishment.  However, if you do not conduct the rest of this interview in the regulation fashion as laid down by TSA guidelines and federal law, this interview is over, comprendé?”

Collins was angry.  This girl was not a typical, scared teenager afraid of scrutiny.  He much preferred the scared ones; they were far more easily guided into whatever he wanted them to say.  Trout had warned him that the girl was a handful, but he hadn’t warned him that she was actually smart and educated in mutant law enforcement procedure.

“Step through the scanner.”  Collins waved at the odd metal-detector looking thing.

Caitlin snorted and stepped through.  The scanner gave an odd buzzing noise she’d never heard on one of the things.

“Step through again.”  Collins leaned forward and pulled a control device out and began tweaking it.

Once again, Caitlin stepped though.  Once again the scanner gave that odd buzzing noise.

“Why are your biometrics not reading?  All I’m getting is a mana surge reading.”

“Couldn’t tell you even if I were so inclined.  None of the medical scanners here did us any good either.  The docs were mumbling something about heavy internal GSD.”  Caitlin declined to mention that according to the docs she was effectively made of some kind of rock, and Grimes had identified her as some sort of mystical golem construct.

“All right, no helping it.  Step through one more time.  I’m going to use the mana spike as your biometric pattern.”

“Great.  More stupid magic bullshit.”

Collins looked up quietly as she stepped through again.  He’d never actually heard a WIZ mutant express distaste for magic before.

“All right, let’s get back to business.  Have you come up with some sort of Codename?”

Caitlin nodded.  “Eldritch, and I did some research.  The last person to haul around that moniker died in ‘82.”

Collins nodded, restraining himself while he typed in the data.  “So why exactly did you pick that name?”

“I didn’t.  Razorback did.  I’m just running with it because it seems to fit.”

He cocked his head.  “Razorback?”

Caitlin smiled and said nothing.

“Names of parents?”  Collins looked up from the computer.

“Deceased, and I’m not feeding you the names of my blood relations, sorry.”

Collins bit back another comment.  He knew this girl would rip him up over demanding said information, which was marked as optional due to U.S. laws about that.  “Do you have a guardian’s name that I can use?”

“Since I have his permission, yes.  Gunnery Sergeant Oscar C. Bardue, USMC, retired.”

Collins entered the data, then looked up.  “Permanent address of record?”

Caitlin sighed.  She hated this part of her so-called cover.  “Whateley Academy.  I got nowhere else to go.”

“Any other oddball powers or abilities that need to be put on the MID?”

“Nope.”

Collins nodded and began typing data before going into his file sets and began copying information.  Caitlin surreptitiously craned her neck and looked at it, seeing what he was looking at.  What little she saw made her blood boil rather abruptly.  It took every ounce of self-control she’d developed since High School, the first time, to keep from going absolutely psychotic.

When Collins finished he printed out her card and handed it to her.  Where he’d gotten the photo…  She was going to have a chat with someone about that.  Government-issue I.D.’s were required to take photo on-site as the card was being made.  But what really burned her ass, beyond a lot of data that the MCO should not know was the little warning statement in fire-engine red lettering.

She set the card down and gave Collins the gimlet eye, the runes in her irises were already heating to molten as she pointed at the red letters.  “Take… that… off.”

“No.”

“The MCO is not allowed to issue DFA’s to U.S. Citizens, and doing so with a minor is a double-shot federal violation.”

“Take it to Court then.  It’s not my problem.”

“And where, did you get the idea that I had all of this training the card says I have?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

Caitlin’s dark mood twisted and warped into a sickeningly delicious feeling of vindication and she gave the MCO agent the first God’s-Honest smile she’d given him all day.  “Very well, you want to play?  We will play.  I’m going to burn down the house that Jack built.”

“Is that a threat young lady?”

“Hope you’ve got a good lawyer, fucktard.  You’re gonna be needing him in about three months.”

Collins snorted.  He’d won the round, and in every single case where a U.S. Citizen had fought the DFA warning in court it had gone nowhere and bogged down in proceedings.

Caitlin was grinning evilly as she stormed out.  She was thinking the same thing, only she knew for a fact that none of the DFA’s being fought were held by persons under the age of eighteen.  She had to restrain herself from practically skipping to Carson’s office to see the Wicked Bitch of Silicon.  If there was one thing Hartford and Caitlin as Mahren agreed upon, this little Death threat from the MCO was one of them.

* * *

Caitlin crackled her way into Schuster Hall and waltzed straight up to Amelia Hartford’s desk.  Sitting next to the desk was a girl with one arm and a prosthetic, a feline tail, and cat ears.  Caitlin mentally shrugged when she realized that Hartford wasn’t wearing her cool aura of distaste she normally affected for the GSD crowd.  It had happened before, and she knew Hartford could really care less what a kid looked like so long as the school-rat in question was in some way redeemable or interesting.

Hartford’s calm disappeared as she sneered at Caitlin.  “What do you want?”

“Not much ma’am, just a moment of your time before I talk to Carson and Delarose about something.”  Caitlin glanced at the catgirl, who seemed oddly entranced by something, and was staring, glassy-eyed into space.  “In private if possible.”

Hartford scowled, looked over at the catgirl, and nodded.  “Paige should be occupied for a while, so I have time to talk.”  She stood up and led Caitlin into the same conference room they had talked in just a short time ago.

“What is it Caitlin?  I believe I was rather clear about how you should expect to approach this office.”

“And I’m in full agreement, Amelia.”  Caitlin’s voice changed ever-so-slightly, rather like Mahren’s did when he’d needed to talk about something that needed done, all antagonism aside.  “They finally did it.”

“Did what?”

Caitlin carefully slid out the MID card and handed it to the most reviled woman on campus.  “There’s a bunch of shit on there the MCO should have no reference for, and they have officially given a DFA to a minor.”

Hartford scanned the card carefully, scowling.  The only way that anyone could have found a record of Caitlin’s combat and weapons expertise would have been from Delarose’s personal files that he’d culled and modified to account for the new student.  When her eyes reached the red lettering Caitlin imagined she could see Amelia’s blood pressure spike to lethal levels.

“What the bloody, fucking hell?  Has the MCO lost their goddamned minds?”  Hartford stared at the little piece of plastic incredulously.  “And what is this file reference?”

“That is a file tagged in Delarose’s records that he is only authorized to access in the event that Corporal Erik Andrew Mahren were to act in an aggressive fashion against Whateley Academy.  It’s tagged eyes-only, and the MCO should not even know about the filing number, much less what’s inside.”

“Can they access it?”

Caitlin snorted.  “Fuck no they can’t.  I’ll give Pearson one thing, she may be a cunt, but she’s dead-on about never sharing information with the MCO.  Delarose would have to, in person, ask for a military courier to deliver said file.”

Hartford nodded.  “I’ll decline my curiosity and forget I saw that.  But the Deadly-Force marker, on a minor?”

“I’ve seen them do worse, Hartford.”  Caitlin growled.  “But that’s neither here nor there.  The thing I was going to ask, is there anything you can do to fuck them?  Fifty bucks says I’m not the only student they’ve tipped a DFA to, and the whole thing skips the constitutional right to due process.  The MCO is explicitly forbidden from pulling this shit on any US citizen, overseas or not.”

“Yes, but all of the court cases being pursued are being bogged down by MCO lawyers and Goodkind money.”

Caitlin grinned.  “Yeah, but the courts have never had a case where the subject in question is not only a US citizen, but a minor with no criminal history.”

Hartford blinked.  “Oh my God.”

“Yup.  I’d prefer you use OTHER kids as your crusade point, but if the MCO neglected to do this to any other kids I’ll play the part of scared kid who’s been issued a death warrant by the man.”  Caitlin got a wild-eyed look.  “I can’t leave campus because the MCO guys can shoot me for jaywalking!” her voice sounded sufficiently panicked.

Hartford considered, and then got the most patently evil grin she’d ever displayed.  “Thank you Caitlin.  You’ve just given me the opportunity to pay back a lot of wrongs.  This will not stand, not with children.”

Caitlin nodded.  “Have a fucking party Hartford, bring booze and snacks.  While you’re having fun at the Jackboots’ expense, I’m gonna call out the dogs.”

Hartford looked at Caitlin.  “Just how many dogs do you have under your belt?”

Caitlin just smiled in a happy way that Hartford knew boded ill for anyone who crossed her path.

As the severe, blonde woman came back out, followed by the sparking Artificer, she nodded.  “Go right in, Carson will forgive us the interruption.”  Hartford blinked and caught herself.  “Caitlin wait don’t…”  It was too late.  She’d just sent Caitlin Bardue into a meeting with Carson and Reverend Englund, discussing the situation in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Oh shit.”

* * *

Caitlin restrained her impulses quite well when Darren Englund turned back to see who was coming in the door and locked eyes with the sparking girl.  Her eyes went molten at the sight of him, and a low, inhuman rumble began somewhere in her chest.  She did not, however, give in to her immediate impulse to reach forward and rip his face off.  Englund’s eyes went wide and his face went abruptly pale as he recognized the girl Gunny Bardue had warned him off.  He knows, was the first thought that slashed through Caitlin’s mind.  Another good reason to introduce him to God, personally.

Englund got up, and held his composure, somewhat.  “Mrs. Carson I believe we can continue this conversation over the phone.  I need to catch up with Charlie anyway before we lose our chance at bringing this ‘angel’ out of this situation alive.”

Carson nodded, never taking her eyes off the girl in the doorway.  The ex-superhero headmistress didn’t even allow herself to blink as Englund tried to wiggle his way around Caitlin.  “Caitlin, come here and sit down.”

The girl continued that odd growl as she slid just enough out of the way for Englund to retreat.  She didn’t turn back until he was gone and the door closed.  Carson was literally the only thing standing between the man and a gruesome death at Caitlin’s hands.  So long as she was still the headmistress, Englund was nominally safe.

Caitlin got a sour look and took a deep breath, closing her eyes, counting back from twenty.  When she finished she was still contemplating murder, but no longer directly fighting the urge to chase him out of Schuster hall and tear him to ribbons.  She turned to Carson, who was watching impassively.  Caitlin gingerly sat down, trying to keep the sparking terror at bay with slow motions.

“For a moment there I thought you were going to do something rash.”  Elizabeth Carson wasn’t the most sympathetic to the good Reverend’s plight, but she couldn’t afford him dead… yet.

Caitlin growled out slowly, “I’m saving it for the next time he so much as twitches in the direction of endangering another person at this school again.”  The tacit, unspoken understanding was that if Englund ever tried to pull anything like what happened on Halloween, Erik Mahren, and thusly Caitlin, had dibs on the preacher-man’s ass.

“Have you been taking your medications?”

Caitlin shook her head.  “They aren’t working.  Right now the only thing keeping me leveled off is Outcast Corner.  I gotta hand it to them; they know how to keep the bleeding edge of anger pushed back.”

“I’m happy to hear it, though I want your honest, professional opinion before we go further.”  Caitlin nodded and forced her anger back in the box she kept it in as Carson spoke.  “Do I need to have you issued an Ultraviolent armband?”

That hurt, even though she knew this time it was nothing personal.  Caitlin had spent the better part of five years proving to Carson that underneath the bullshit, she was a decent human being.  However, she also forced herself to acknowledge that Carson had a responsibility to protect the kids.  Regardless of her current predicament, Caitlin felt the same way in regards to herself.

The nod came grudgingly.  “Yeah I do, Carson.  I really think I’m going to need to have the warning out.  I’m not like the ragers here so much, but, like you know, I was diagnosed with PTSD and Intermittent Explosive Disorder, so I can’t promise that without the medication working I won’t go thermal on someone.”

Carson nodded.  “You do realize that I’m not asking you because I don’t trust you?”

Caitlin snorted.  “If I were wearing your pants right now I’d be doing the same thing, much as I hate to admit it.  I’d like to say I’d be fine, but I know me, when I go off I don’t just bull-rush the nearest person and start pounding.  I just start using everything I have, or can get a hold of, until someone stops me and pins my ass to the floor.”

“What are your limitations when you are having an episode?”

“Carson, you’re the one who saved my life on Halloween.  My worst-case thus far has been jacking an antigravity flyer and using it to kill a lot of syndicate personnel.  My ‘episode’ started long before that happened.”

“I’m sorry to bring up bad memories, Caitlin, but I have to know.”

Caitlin nodded.  “Yeah, well, I’m not going to get over it by sitting on it and bottling it up forever.  That’s done me so well in the past.”

“And you won’t talk to the Psychiatrists, or even Fubar about what’s eating at you?”

“Carson, I can’t talk to the shrinks about what’s been eating at me.  I pretty much told you what was eating at me back when I started here.  It all starts there, why you hired me.”

“Against my better judgment I might add.”  Carson smiled warmly.  “I’m very glad that I was wrong about you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”  Caitlin sighed.  “I violated clearances when I told you about my team, Carson.  You know that already.  Sam knows I did, I used to pull a bunch of my shit alongside the SEALs, and I got a lot of my orders from Everhart at the time.”

“That’s why you won’t talk to Bellows?”

“Bellows would need to get a clearance level that I don’t even have, to hear the shit I have to say.”  Caitlin smirked.  “You know it’s a sad day when bureaucracy decides you aren’t allowed to know that you exist.”

Carson chuckled despite herself.  “I have not told anyone what you told me, not even Frank Delarose.  I can, however, be here to talk if you need it Caitlin.  No one should have to shoulder things alone, and you can’t even get your old teammates to talk to regularly, especially not now.”

“Yeah, see, that might be a problem boss.”  Caitlin got another sour look.  “We promised each other we’d keep an eye out, and if one of us went silent, the others would start hunting for the missing man.  We cover each others’ asses.”

“Will this endanger anyone on campus?”

“Hard to say.”  Caitlin looked out the window.  “Sooner or later, one of ‘em will come looking for me or Cat.  I went silent and stopped talking after Halloween.  I don’t think they realize she’s gone yet.”

Carson blinked.  “Cat knew them?”  Carson had never heard Erik talk about any of his buddies, save peripherally, and even then only by their radio callsigns.

“Only as my unruly buddies, boss.  Cat didn’t ask too many questions about us.”

“How problematic will this be?”

“Depends on who gets curious.”  Caitlin looked back at the headmistress.  “If it’s Heckel or Jeckel, no worries, flat out.  Believe it or not, you know them.  They said they were in your English Class once upon a time, but I’ll leave it at that.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Worm might come, and the man has a deathwish.  He wants to die, bad, but he doesn’t have it in him to pull the trigger himself.”  Caitlin sighed.  “If someone challenges him hard, he’ll push back until the situation comes to a head and around here that would likely be fatal for him.  Heckel and Jeckel have identity issues, sometimes they lose track of who they are, where they actually are or what they’re doing.  We all got pretty fucked up, and all of us are in dire need of medication and counseling.”

Carson nodded.  “And the others?”

“Messenger was the most stable, but loud noises can set him off.  He had to drop artillery on our own heads a time or two.”  Caitlin sighed.  “The Ell-Tee doesn’t really have much of a clue, but he’ll probably be the most sane to talk to.  He went through the least amount of bullshit.”

“That’s six, you mentioned there were seven at one point.”

“Prison Bitch.”  Caitlin looked at Carson intently.  “Compress the third security platoon into one man and you know Bitch.  I don’t want him to be the one to get curious, because I don’t want him on campus near the kids.  He’s the one I flat told if he stepped onto campus grounds without an escort I’d kill him myself.”

“This does seem problematic on the surface.” Carson considered.  “However, these are the men who protected the Parkour Hooligans back in September, yes?”

Caitlin nodded.  “Yup.  They don’t hate mutants any more than I do.  They just hate the mutant assholes over at M-SOC as much as I do.  More in the case of Heckel and Jeckel.”

“Can you give me names and descriptions?”

Caitlin grimaced, unhappy.  “You know I can’t Carson.  In the off-chance they don’t come I can’t put my boys at risk any more than I can put the kids there.”

“Then we need to give them some kind of word, so that they don’t start hunting for you.  Do you think you can let me do that much?”

“I hate this.”

“I’m not fond either, but I would rather your friends not risk exposing themselves by seeking you out.  Thrasher’s been silent, but as you said several months ago, Caitlin:  We need to let the bogeyman die.”

Caitlin nodded.  “Phone please.  Just hit the speaker.”

Carson nodded and pushed the phone over and Caitlin gingerly picked up a pen and began tapping out the phone number that came to mind first.  The twin brothers had always been her closest friends in the Corps.  They deserved to hear it first.

The phone rang and a little girl picked up the reciever.  “Hello?”

“Miss, my name is Elizabeth Carson at Whateley Academy.  I’m calling in regards to Erik Mahren, may I speak to your father please?”

“Daddy there’s a lady on the line that wants to talk to Uncle Erik.  Is he here?”

Caitlin almost choked.

They could actually hear thundering footfalls and a man’s voice.  “Give it here, sweetie.  Hello?  This is Jeckel.”

“Mister… Jeckel, I am Elizabeth Carson.  I was recently given your name as a possible point of contact for Erik Mahren.”

“What’s up?  Is Erik okay?”

Caitlin screwed up her courage and caught Carson’s eye.  “Don’t lie to him” she mouthed silently.

“I’m afraid I am not the bearer of good tidings, sir.”  Carson sighed.  “I have been appraised that you are aware of the purpose of Whateley Academy, and Erik Mahren’s function here.”

“Yeah, what happened?  Erik’s gone silent.  Haven’t heard from him since Boston.”

“Sir I must regretfully inform you that on October 31^st, Whateley Academy was attacked by parties connected to the Syndicate.  Caitlin McQuiston was killed defending the Academy, which led Erik Mahren to have a near-lethal late manifestation of mutant traits later on.”

“Holy mother of fuck, Mrs. Carson, is my school still standing?  And is Erik going to be okay?”

“Yes the school is still standing.  No children were seriously injured or taken in the action, largely because of Erik, Cat and a few other notables among the Staff and student body.”

“Erik’s not going to make it is he?”

“The prognosis is not good.  Erik has been officially transferred over to ARC Black due to his manifestation of an explosive and uncontrollable WIZ trait.  It’s pretty much already destroyed who he is, and we aren’t expecting Erik to ever recover and neither is the ARC staff.”

Caitlin sighed sadly even as the weight was somewhat lifted.  She really was letting go, letting things rest, and it hurt.

“How long does he have?”

“Honestly sir, it’s impossible to communicate with Erik any longer.  We’re simply waiting for him to go peacefully.”

“And it’s Black Complex.  No visitors.  Was it that bad?”

“Could have been much worse had certain parties not intervened.  But no, there can be no visitors.  With Cat gone, perhaps it may be best to leave the man to rest in peace.”

“Fuck.  I’ll pass the word.  This is going to sound weird, but Erik had a medallion of Saint George with Corporal Chevrons cut on one side with Hijacker engraved on it.  If Mahren’s in Black, the body is done, but I’d like to ask you to find that pendant so we can lay it to rest with the others.  We’d like to do that much.”

Carson looked at Caitlin, and saw the recently-minted girl nod slightly.  She slid a gold-colored neck chain with a medallion of Saint George from a pocket and slid it across the desk.  One more bogeyman down.

“We have the pendant, sir.  I will arrange that it be delivered to a location of your choosing.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Carson.  I’ll just come by Whateley with my brother and pick it up at Schuster Hall.  We’ll be along in a few days, but we won’t be in your hair long.  It’s been a while since I saw Emerson Hall anyway.  Felicis Fossor.”  The line clicked dead.

“Felicis Fossor?”

Caitlin chuckled despite herself.  “It was our motto in the corps.”

“Lucky fools?”

“Always fear the lucky idiot with a gun, boss.  He may be an idiot, but he’s still lucky, and he has a gun.”

Carson gave Caitlin an odd look then started laughing despite herself.

Caitlin smiled slightly and straightened up.  “Look Carson, this walk down memory lane’s been cathartic, and it’s nice that I can talk to someone, but if I have to deal with any more of this shit today I’m going to get an androgynous haircut and go Emo on you.”

“Must you always be flip about your emotions?”

“Yeah, because if I don’t laugh at them even the good ones hurt.”  Caitlin pushed the extra crap out of her mind.  “But thank you for derailing me from my happy-go-kill-someone mood.  I betcha with what I just gave Hartford, there’s a few motherfuckers about to have a very, very bad day.”

“What did you do?”

“Retribution.  Someone sold my data sheet to the MCO.”

Carson blinked as Caitlin once again carefully passed over the MID card that had brought her here originally.  Carson nodded slowly, than began checking the card.  Her face became troubled as she read the listings of Caitlin’s combat training, and when she reached the bright red Death Warrant Caitlin saw the headmistress’ eyes go to slits as she hissed out a breath.  “Oh hell no.  Someone’s going to PAY for this one…”

The conversation went about the way Caitlin expected it to go.  Dog two unleashed upon the poor fuckers in the Mutant Comission Office.  Dogs three and four would be the FUN ones, even if normally Caitlin would rather have a root canal than deal with the fourth.

* * *

Caitlin grinned as she walked away from the security office.  Nothing helped a bad mood like spreading it around.  Security Chief Franklin Delarose had simply gone very silent and calm when he looked at the MID card.  Caitlin knew he was less worried about the DFA and more spitting fury over the contents of her MID information, information held in one place and one place alone: his personal files on the Academy students.

Delarose simply ran a cross-check, pulling up MID cards and comparing the data in the official files to the confidential ones.  Sure enough the ones tagged for Deadly Force Authorization, and often, true power classification, on said cards could only have come from his own files.  Eldritch, Razorback, Tennyo, Fey, Carmilla, Imperious, Counterpoint, Stormwolf, and about a dozen other kids were tagged with the Deadly Force classification.

Caitlin whistled a random tune as she thought of the fact that some poor fucker was very soon going to wish he were dead.  Delarose was not some laid back chump who flew a desk because it was the place to be to kick back and enjoy the perks.  The old bastard was relentless when he found something to dig his teeth into, and it was only a matter of time.  Caitlin would have been hard-pressed to not lay money on third platoon being the culprit.  Some distant, evil, vindictive portion of her mind dearly hoped Sergeant Buxton would be caught as the culprit, or Lieutenant Trout.

She ducked and weaved the student body, sparking and zapping her way to a place where the military recruiters invariably hid out during combat finals.  These guys she left nominally alone, only torturing one when she was feeling particularly obnoxious.  Their normal M.O. was to check up on the Grunts surreptitiously, rather than actively trying to poach students.  Uncle Sam was investing a lot in the Whateley JROTC program, and jealously watched over it just to ensure the money was being well spent.

Range Six wasn’t a range.  It was a small bunker set among the woods and hills near the Academy.  The chosen hang-out point of the Grunts, hardly anyone was aware of its existence.  Also, mostly unknown was the spider hole that the military had their watchdogs occupy on occasion, well off the beaten track.  The “recruiters” were invariably naval psych officers who would pop in to talk to the Grunts without the teachers around, to make sure that the kids’ heads were actually still on the military track.  Mutant kids were twitchy enough that the US Armed Services wanted to make sure that this was what the kids wanted, so that the normal behaviors among new recruits who were becoming disillusioned and looking for ways out could be avoided.

Caitlin popped open the spider hole and looked down at the startled young woman hiding in the little box compartment.  “BOO!”

The young woman wasn’t exactly poster-child materiel, but she wasn’t a dog either.  Caitlin looked at her quietly for a moment then spoke.  “I have a courier data transfer for M-SOC Naval and M-SOC PACMAR, do not ask me what the fuck it means, but get your fucking pen out and stand by to copy.”

The young officer blinked, still startled, then nodded.

Caitlin pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it carefully.  The paper was blank, but she wanted to make it look like she was an actual messenger.  “First message, M-SOC Naval, whoever is in command, Warning Alert, code Bravo-Seven-Hijacker.  Delta Sierra, SOC.  The MCO is issuing DFA’s to minor citizens of the USA, Whateley Academy students have been targeted, very likely others as well.  Butcher’s Row is starting again.”

“How do you know authentication codes?  How did you know how to find me?”

Caitlin grinned.  “Look lady, I don’t know what the hell this is all about, I’m just following instructions left in Erik Mahren’s last will and testament.”

“And the second message?”

Caitlin grinned again.  “This one’s fun, for one Colonel Pearson, from Erik Mahren.  Reads as follows:  I’m dead, bitch, take my name off the fucking blotter.  I’ll see your sorry ass in hell.”

The woman blinked.

“Write it down and have it delivered, woman, I don’t wanna have to repeat it.”

“That’s a bit… crude for a message to a colonel.”

Caitlin shrugged.  “The instructions from mister dead guy say to say it word for word, otherwise she won’t have a reason to believe its authenticity.”

“How did Mahren die?”

“Late-stage mutant manifestation resulting in terminal burnout.”  Caitlin shook her hand and her aura flashed azure, and the paper puffed out in a sparkling haze of snowflakes that fell on the woman.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go have me some breakfast, and then go pick up my courier check from the provost.”

Caitlin stood up and unceremoniously dropped the lid on the spider-hole.  She walked away, whistling.  Dog four, turned loose.  Even with all of the personal drama that she was trying to unfetter from her life, to maybe rebuild something resembling sanity, this was turning out to be a good day.

* * *

Majestic and Cytherea glowered darkly as the abomination they knew as Galatea waltzed right into the Crystal Hall dining area.  The metal-haired thing sidled up to the chow line, loaded up and proceeded to plop down next to the mixed bag of freaks and losers she called friends.  Imperious was watching intently, as though expecting something.

The two young women exchanged looks, and silently nodded to one another.  Come hell or high water, they were going to make sure that Imperious didn’t acquire this new toy he wanted.  No matter what it could mean for the New Olympians, the Artificers were harbingers of chaos and destruction when bound.  In one of the last times this particular one had showed up, a quarter of Athens, Greece had burned in the homicidal construct’s bid to destroy any competition for Pygmalion’s attention.  The wonders that flowed from Pygmalion’s workshop had devastated far too much, as greedy Senators and petty sorcerers took the opportunity to destroy their rivals in the ensuing mayhem.  And to cap the whole thing, the creature’s destruction had more or less obliterated the entire quarter of the city she had been frantically disassembling.

Even if it meant losing a chance to touch the higher planes, the Artificer had to remain unbound to anyone’s will, mortal or otherwise.  The risk of the raw potential of the thing falling into anyone’s hands and overwhelming the sense of the master was too great.  Contained within that exotic, yet so very mortal-appearing shell laid the seeds of too many catastrophes, where the world itself seemed to lash out to end the threat.

“I don’t think that batty devisor and his pet lizard took me very seriously yesterday.”  Imperious got a long-suffering look.

“It’s Jericho, what were you expecting?”  Stygian’s eternally-depressed nature shone through yet again as he deadpanned his comment.

“I would have thought him intelligent enough to not try and test me.”

Cytherea rolled her eyes.  “Imperious, you have no idea how stubborn that boy is.  Even the animal he rooms with assaults Alphas on his off-time, and they’re seen to be the top of the heap.”

“He resist your charms, Cytherea?”

“He’s blind.  Glamours and impressive auras don’t function without the visual component too, and you know it, so even your mighty lord presence is lost on the devisor.”

Majestic leaned forward.  “Perhaps a different track might be in order?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“The snake.”

Cytherea cackled wickedly.  “Oh that is perfect.  Diamondback’s too shy and unassuming.  If someone were to pressure her, the message would be passed along.  Just don’t do it near the Fury Twins.  She’ll crack if she can’t hide behind her brick friends.”

“Perhaps it might be time to approach Galatea directly.”  Imperious had an eager look to him that everyone recognized.  He was hungering for her body as much as he wanted her mystic crafting talents.  “I already have the binding ink prepared and ready.  Jericho and the speedster might not be particularly pliable, but the girl won’t be much problem.  She’ll likely be grateful for the assistance controlling her aura.”

Majestic watched him staring across the Crystal Hall with an angry, conniving eye.  She’d be damned before she let him sideline her for some pliable tart!  “Perhaps, but since when do you approach someone else like some common beggar?  You command, or she will come to you out of desperation or gratitude.  A word in the correct ear could very well provoke the response we seek.”  The response that I seek anyway.

“Then we need to ensure the right words reach the right ears, now don’t we?”

Stygian rolled his eyes.  “Of course, let’s be circumspect in collecting a hot little piece of ass.  Have fun with this one, I’m going back to my dorm room.”  The gaunt, broken boy got up and walked out the door, somehow managing not to look at anyone directly.

Imperious scowled at the departing ghost-caller and looked to Cytherea.  “Do put words in the right ears, my dear.  I’d hate for us to be interrupted by Carson or that bint Circe before we’re finished.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, dear one.  I know all the right things to say to the scaly little Miss Outcast.”  Cytherea stood and shared a wicked smirk with Majestic.  It was time to put a little bug in the ear of Whitman’s most vicious, though unpolished, little rumormonger.

* * *

Chief Franklin Delarose looked up at Samantha Everhart as she walked into the room and closed the door.  Delarose pulled a small device out of his pocket and clicked it on.  The young-appearing woman winced, painfully.  “Sorry Sam, but I need this conversation private.”

“Understood, Chief, just give me a second to filter that out.”  The woman seemed to almost meditate for a few moments, then let out a breath.  “Much better.”

“I have a rather serious problem, Miss Everhart.  Apparently someone has found a way to access my unconnected and encrypted files.  I have two people on this campus who I know are capable of doing this via their abilities, but Paige Donner has avoided this office like the plague and you already have the data due to Hive.  And given that I have every single new officer monitored for a period of time, I know that you are not the source of the information leak.”

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Delarose chuckled.  “Honestly Everhart, I’m wildly more concerned with someone who will do damage to my kids, and it seems I have missed just such a rat.  You are going to help me find them.”

Sam got a serious look.  “Is this about the MID cards?  Carson pulled me in about thirty minutes ago on that one, considering I promised to keep a watch out on Nikki Reilly for her dad.”

“Yes this is about the MID cards.  The data pulled from these cards that hit the MCO Deadly Force criteria came from my files.  More specifically, the files I keep separate in case of emergencies.  Caitlin’s MID is of particular interest, as it has a file referenced that I had the authorization codes to acquire from M-SOC MARPAC should my former Range 4 instructor ever show signs of going psychotic on the children.”

“What’s the file?”  Sam’s eyes narrowed.  “If it’s any of the files I think it is we could be in for a world of hurt, boss.”

Delarose pulled the reference and rotated the screen so Sam could see.

Sam blinked.  Her enhanced memory drew that document out right away.  She’d written a large portion of it.  “That file, if released, would get seven very private individuals, who want to be left alone, very messily dead.  Erik would have been one of them.”

“Do I need to know what is on that file?”

Sam considered, then shrugged.  “I’m going to have to make this one a judgement call on your part, Sir.  Just bear in mind, once that one’s out, it’s out and it has some nasty ramifications involved.  Do I think it’s likely to become relevant any time soon?  No, as a lot of the reports and files in that docket are written from a very biased and hostile slant towards the individuals in question.”

Delarose looked at her silently.

“Look sir, unless you are going to invoke that code authority to view the file, all I can tell you that yes, it pertains very much to Caitlin, yes she’s a nasty piece of work, and I served as Mahren’s commanding officer for a bit over two years on some seriously… problematic training.  However, the only reason I would recommend that you look for it is if the MCO were to get their claws on it you would already be informed and be able to take steps.”

Delarose nodded.  “Does anyone else know what is in that file?”

“Caitlin does.  Beyond that I know Carson’s very likely been told a sliver of what’s in there, just enough to risk having her turn him into a greasy paste when he interviewed for the job.”

“What happens if that docket gets released to the general public?”

“The analysts think we’d have another Mutant Riots problem like back in ‘72.  I’m not so sure about that, but there would be some backlash.”

“Would the MCO release the information?”

Sam shook her head.  “No, they’d be even more interested in suppressing it than Uncle Sam.  However, there’s that whole ‘seven messily dead men’ issue.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to invoke that authority.  There are too many problematic and stupid factors revolving around our former range hand.”

Sam nodded.  “It’s paper hardcopy only, no electronic file.  No electronic file is to be made, no copies cut, and no release of information to any parties save yourself and anyone you deem relevant.  Once you’re done reading it Delarose, I recommend you destroy it.  Don’t hang onto it long enough for your information leak to get ahold of it.”

“You act as though national security rides on it.”

“Not so much national security as the good reputation this country is fighting to keep, and because like I said.  It’s basically the death warrant for some good men.”

Delarose nodded.  “Moving along, what was on the camera?”

Sam opened up a sheaf of photos and spread them out along the table.  “Students, mostly around Hawthorne.  Some you would expect, some you wouldn’t.  The high-trouble ones in the batch are Eldritch, Razorback, Fey, Jimmy Trauger and of all people, Majestic.  They’re the only students with multiple photos from different angles.”

“Since when do the Voodoos start using digital cameras?”

Sam shrugged.  “Intel, most likely.  I can see Majestic, Razor and Fey being enough threat to warrant it, but Caitlin and Jimmy T don’t make any sense.”

“Caitlin’s got a lot of things going that make her the center of attention in certain circles.  Jimmy Trauger is a walking siege weapon.”  Delarose looked at the photos.  “Start keeping tabs on the kids in the pics and these five in particular.  I don’t want the voodoos recruiting off our student body.”

Sam nodded.  “What’s got my priority, the file theft or the Voodoo problem?”

Englund looked at Sam.  “The files.  Get Dodson on the horn and have him bring the monster squad out for shift work.  They can do rotations keeping an eye on the kids.”

“Okay Chief.  I’ll get on it.”  Sam mentally flipped through the list of possible suspects who could possibly have found a way to access the chief’s files, and then had the sheer balls to turn the data over to the MCO.  She decided to investigate Trout first, as she’d seen him on the receiving end of one of Caitlin’s shrieking tirades, unable to do anything about it.

* * *

“Bout time you got here, Sparky.  We all thought you might have fallen into a toilet and gotten yourself flushed.”  Diamondback grinned at Caitlin as she set her tray down.

“You know me, I had to get shit taken care of and take my glaucoma accelerant to buffer myself from Jericho’s clothing.”

The blind boy leaned back and grinned widely.  “Ah my fan club arrives.  Tell me how much you adore the kilt.”

Caitlin looked over at the devisor’s hideous ensemble.  “I’m just fucking happy you don’t go commando like Bannockburn.  There are just some things I don’t need to see while I eat.”

Phobos grinned evilly.  “Well Bannock is kinda cute…”

“And at least you know what you’re getting yourself into…” Deimos only egged on the horrible image that had many times scarred Caitlin’s retinas.

“TMI!  Good God, why do you do this to me?”

“Our petty revenge for the horny comment last night.”  The dark-haired twin looked pleased with herself.

“Jesus, make one joke and pay for it for the rest of your life.”

“Oh admit it, if we didn’t you wouldn’t respect us in the morning.”  When Phobos finished the comment, the Outcasts and friends began chuckling as Caitlin did her traditional thumping of the head on the cafeteria table a few times.

“You know, braining yourself won’t actually make the image go away Caitlin.”  Jericho smiled evilly.  “Besides, I know you fantasize about hunky guys in dresses.”

Caitlin groaned, face still planted on the table.  “There just isn’t nearly enough alcohol in the world for this shit.”

Razorback saved Caitlin’s mind from further damage by surreptitiously plopping into his seat and making some very birdlike chirps and whistling noises, banging his hands on the table in a fashion only a speedster could do.

Caitlin looked over at him.  “What’s that Lassie?  Jericho’s fashion sense is trapped in the well again?  Lead the way!”

The raptor kid chirped with amusement then started a rapid-fire series of hand-signs, of which Caitlin caught only the words “home” and “Christmas.”  Razorback was like a kid in a candy store, and about three times as hyper.

Caitlin looked over at Diamondback.  “Smee, translate.”

“In three days we’re gonna have a war!”  Jericho cackled maniacally as Diamond dutifully completed the joke.

“And me without my happy thoughts.”

“If that fails, we have some extra-heavy Prozac we can give you.”  Phobos grinned, almost hopefully.

“At discount prices, no less,” her sister continued.

Caitlin looked up and held a finger as Jana, in her centaur form, walked by to get back in the kitchen.  “Check please.”

The girl smirked and cantered off.

“What the big dope with the speech impediment was trying to say,” Diamondback explained, “is that our flight is confirmed, Joe’s family is going to be en route to Australia on Sunday so they can get used to the Darwin heat, and we’ll be riding in the Overwatch Defense C-130.”

“Wow.  That’s awesome, except for the C-130.  Those birds blow chunks.”  Caitlin gave the others a good grin.  “You all going?”

“They are,” Deimos pointed at Jericho, Diamond and Razor.  “Me’n sis here are going back to Montana for the holidays.  Grandma’s hosting a big family party.”

“Rock on.”

“What you doing Caitlin?”

She looked over at the snake-girl who was rapidly turning into her partner-in-crime and shrugged.  “I’ll probably just meander around here.  Holidays aren’t my big thing, honestly.”

“Christmas break and you’re going to stay at school?”  Jericho looked horrified.  “Dude, not cool.  What’s the Dad doing?”

Caitlin gave him a smirk as he referenced Gunny.  “He’s probably going to do his usual thing, decorate a small tree, watch TV and relax.”

Razorback signed, Deimos helpfully translated.  “You two need some serious help, you know that, right?”

“Nothing wrong with taking it easy while everyone’s stressing out.”

Everyone at the Outcast table stared at her like she’d grown a trout from her forehead.

“But...  What about Christmas loot?”  Diamondback was almost horrified at the thought of a Christmas with no presents, even if she only cared about the presents part.

“What was that Miss Wicca?  Do I detect a Christian urging in your voice?”

“No Sparky, you’re detecting cool-stuff greed in my voice.”  Diamondback grinned.  “Just because I don’t buy into the Bible doesn’t mean all the holidays are reasons to rage against reality.”

“Don’t start this discussion Caitlin.”  Jericho shook his head.  “Sandra here could find a legitimate reason for just about anything, including circular logic.”

“Spoilsport.”

Caitlin chuckled.  “Fine, fine.  I give.  No, I’ve never been huge on the whole...”  She jerked abruptly as a loud crack and a flash of light erupted from the central areas of the Crystal hall.  “Why the fuck is Imperious making lightning between his hands and staring at us?”

Jericho looked over at Razorback, and the two boys nodded, simultaneously standing, turning towards the New Olympians, and simultaneously doing the one-finger salute, arms crossed over in the full, traditional greeting.  Razorback shrieked, and Jericho yelled across the abruptly silent Crystal hall.

“Why don’t you come over here and lick my nuts you poncy shit?  The answer is NO!”

Imperious abruptly stood, then stopped as Diamond, Caitlin, Phobos and Deimos stood in response, chairs skidding away from too-strong bodies, resulting in an interesting staredown as the freak parade of Whateley Academy stood with each other.  Caitlin’s aura crackled wildly, and each of Phobos and Deimos’ four hands crackled in azure/ruby energy that ran the length of their forearms.

Jericho ignored the rest of the Crystal Hall as many students surreptitiously vacated the space between the Outcasts and the New Olympians.  “I don’t play games with this threat shit Jason, I play for keeps.  Fuck with one of us and you fuck with all of us, so if you’re really feeling froggy and wanna see what the monsters can do, JUMP!”  His Texas twang was in full-force today, and he scowled.

“You really have no idea what you’re getting yourself into Jericho.”  The response was slow, cool, as though it was just the two of them.

“If you think you can take us on here, now, in front of the school, then step.”  Jericho gave an internal snarl.  “Come on, oh he who would be a God.  Come on and play with the damned titans!”

Imperious and the other New Olympians literally dismissed the Outcasts as one and went back to their meal.  It was a clear message.  The New Olympians didn’t consider punishing them to be worth their time.  From the corners, Judicator, Knick-Knack, Prism and Feral watched, blinking, and as the Outcasts began taking their seats again, Feral and Prism favored the outcasts with a silent golf-clap, shielded from Imperious’ sight.

“I’m seriously debating just shooting that motherfucker with the Core-Ejector.”

“What the hell was that all about?”  Caitlin looked at Jericho.

“Don’t worry about it.  For now, no one walks about alone, alright?  If you see a New Olympian approach you be ready to beat them stupid.”  He looked very pointedly at Caitlin as he spoke.  She got the message loud and clear.

* * *

Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue stepped into the Crystal Hall just in time to see Jericho’s little tirade.  He stopped, and waited, watching to see how the scene would play out.  He was a baseline, and if the New Olympians and the Outcasts had decided to throw down in the middle of the Crystal Hall there would have been precious little he, or anyone else could to to rein in the absolute havoc that would have occurred.  He knew from experience that the Olympians were unholy powerful on their own, but the heavy-GSD nightmare crew of Outcast Corner boasted some very disturbingly destructive abilities themselves.

The most disturbing thought was the realization that save Jericho, Stygian and Cytherea, every single person in play was either a brick, or a speedster, and on the Outcast side, most of them were ragers of one stripe or another.  He caught himself stock-still and silent, not breathing, when Imperious sat down.  He knew Jericho well enough to know that the boy wouldn’t escalate on an opponent who wasn’t bothering to fight.  When the Outcasts took their seats, he moved again, weaving through the tables, setting his face in an inscrutable mask and saying a silent prayer of thanks that the situation had not exploded.

Caitlin saw him first and clearly mouthed the words “Oh fuck” as he walked to stand behind her.  She stared very intently at her food, shoulders tense, head somewhat down in a body language that was pure Erik Mahren in his not this shit again phase.  Her corona started crackling and sparking in its multi-hued light, and abruptly the table and tray of food near her was covered in a layer of hoarfrost that started melting and evaporating in the heat of the Crystal hall.

“Jericho, would you care to explain why you are threatening other students on-campus?”  Bardue managed to keep his voice level.  “Also, the lot of you please explain to me why you were acting like you were planning on starting World War Three in my Crystal Hall.”  He very carefully did not look at the Fury Twins, remembering full-well the terror aura the two of them possessed, and the creeping dread that was even now making its way up his spine.

All of the Outcasts were silent, trying to not have a blowout.  Razorback in particular was very carefully not looking at Bardue, instead forcing himself to eat more of his meat platter.  “Well since you all seem to have so much aggressive energy I’m sure none of you will mind reporting to Sergeant-Major Smythe tonight for Range clean-up.”

He didn’t get a response in the negative, although Diamondback, Phobos and Deimos rather abruptly scooted their chairs at least three feet away from Caitlin.  When the empaths shifted away from someone it wasn’t a good sign.  He tapped the stock-still girl on the shoulder once and simply said “You’re late.”

“What for?”

“You have a Combat Final to attend, Caitlin.”

There was a crunching sound as the fork she’d been holding turned into a crumpled mass in her right hand.  “I thought I was getting a waiver.”

“You thought wrong.  Get your shit together and be at Arena ‘99 in the next thirty minutes.”

Caitlin slowly nodded, and the Fury Twins, as well as Diamondback, started shaking, and got up to leave.  Bardue let them go.  If Caitlin was mad enough that they were reacting to her, then something was going on, or she was finally starting to crack.  Neither one was good.

“We’ll get her there, Gunny.”  Jericho nodded to the old man slowly.

“See to it Jericho.  I’ll be waiting with bated breath.”  He turned and left the Crystal Hall, thanking God that under all their confrontational, devil-may-care bullshit, the kids of Outcast Corner seemed to respect authority, even when they were pissed off at it.

Jericho looked at the leaving teacher.  “This is such bullshit.”

Caitlin shook her head, grinding out the words slowly.  “He saw us doing the act, Jericho.  He can only go on the evidence he has on hand.”

“And how would he react to Imperious’ sudden demand to speak to you away from everyone at Melville?”

“Same thing Carson would tell me to do in this particular case.”  Caitlin snarled internally as she realized she was actually contemplating deliberately harming a Whateley student.  “Defend myself by any and all means necessary.”

“That doesn’t sound like Carson.”

“I have a few issues we’re trying to keep quiet.”  Her voice never lost that scary, leveled-off, deceptively neutral tone.

“You’re not going to hurt anyone, are you Cait?”

“God, I fucking hope not.”  She looked at Jericho.  “God help me, I don’t want to, but if Imperious makes a play, I’ll have to.”

“Do good in this combat final then.  Maybe you’ll scare him off.”

Caitlin nodded again.  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”  She didn’t believe that would happen for a second.

“So what’s your plan for the Final?”

“I have no earthly idea.”  Her eyes were still burning as she got up and started walking to Hawthorne, well aware of the two boys trailing her just close enough to watch, far enough to give her space.

* * *

Lillian Dennon was an older woman, with dark hair with streaks of silver running down to the tips on her shoulders.  As the school Brick combat instructor, anyone who knew her was already aware of the fact that the fragile-looking woman’s body was the home of one of the most ferocious PK bricks in the United States.  Once upon a time she’d been known as Wildhammer, and her past was a bit more checkered than most.  Even in her fifties, everyone could see the fiery attitude of a girl who’d made it her personal mission in life to rip off dozens of wealthy companies on the late sixties.

Her tenure in Thunder Mountain Prison Complex had mellowed her out quite a bit.

She stepped up to the podium overseeing the arena and waited for the noise from the last Combat final to die down.  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” she began in her quiet Louisiana drawl, “it’s time for the next crash scenario.”

The arena spectators went silent, looking up to the woman, expectantly.  No matter who was part of it, the Crash scenarios were invariably some of the most interesting.  Mrs. Dennon carried herself with the poise and grace of one of the most potent Exemplars, even if she wasn’t one of them.

“Today, the scenario is Prisoner transport.  The spindle has been deactivated and will not be a part of the scenario.  The normal rules of engagement do not apply.  The prisoner transport is a two-on-one scenario, with the one being the prisoner being escorted to the police line.  The objective is to hold the prisoner at the location until the Wheeling Prisoner Transport arrives.”

A darkened portion of the arena lit up and the children could clearly see the heavily-armed ANTS bedecked in police SWAT uniforms guarding a drop point.

“The prisoner’s objective is to escape, by any means necessary.  She will not be bound by normal grading standards for collateral damage.  The escorting ‘heroes’ will be, however.  If in twenty minutes the prisoner is not in the pick-up site, the escorting supers will be presumed to have lost.”

The kids leaned forward as the defenders screen, unused since the spindle scenario was up lit up with the two MID’s of the escorting kids.

The Military Mutant ID was displayed in powder blue, a different setup than most.

 

* * *

“Oh Gawd!  They stuck Hippy and Hank on a TEAM together?”  Chaka was snarking as the lineup came across the screen.  “I smell Hartass’ hand here somewhere.”

Hank looked over at Chaka.  “Who knows?  Hippolyta and I kinda have an understanding.  Don’t get in each others’ way unless we wanna roll.”

Tennyo smirked.  “Methinks Poe could use a bit less of you two crazies ‘rolling’ around together.  I thought the foundation was going to fail last time.”

“Gee, and who was it that runs around with foam rubber swords trying to play whack-an-elf, bonking everyone willy-nilly?”

“I do not ‘bonk,” Fey said archly.  “I destroy my nemesis with the full power of the Sidhe.”

“And your destruction holds a mighty rubbery popping noise too.”  Toni just couldn’t resist.

“Hush you.”  She drew the Nerf weapon from nowhere and thwapped her grinning roomie.

Hank just grinned as he mimed the two girls trying desperately to catch and thump each other with bats by Nerf as though they were swords.  The attempt fell flat as Nikki was watching a girl walking towards the arena entrance, one looking mightily upset.  The rippling arcs of mystic energy that caromed along her body captivated and horrified the Sidhe girl.  She could see the ley lines twisting, bending, knotting and snapping away in horrible ways every time the girl moved.

“By the Gods.”  The voice wasn’t entirely Nikki.  “I KNOW her!”

Hank shrugged and tapped Nikki on the shoulder as he made his way to the arena entrance.  “Yeah, and apparently she’s the person me and Hippy are up against.  He pointed up at the screen on the Villain board, and they could clearly see the girl’s MID.”

“So that’s the mysterious Cait Jericho keeps making references to.”  Toni studied the girl and her MID now showing on the board.  “Talk about some jacked up Ki energy.  How is she walking?”

Code Name:	ELDRITCH
Ratings::	Exemplar - 4, Mage - <Unknown>, Devisor - <Unknown>, Esper - 2, Martial arts – Advanced Infantry Combat Expert, Martial Arts - Fencing, Sabre specialist, Rifle - Expert, Pistol - Sharpshooter, Submachine gun - Expert, Shotgun - Expert, Belt-Fed Weapons - Expert, Explosive Launch Weapons - Expert, Combat Demolitions Training, Vehicular combat training
	WARNING! Combat experienced.   Source of training, unknown Class 2 Rager Deadly Force Pre-AuthorizedSee also: Dx-211-23-DS-Foxtrot
Techniques:	Charged Magic Aura, Class 3 Firearms License, Weapons of Opportunity, Vehicular Assault, Explosives, Assault Weapons, SMAW, Grenades, Knives, Sniper, Sabre, Parkour Master Traceur
Weak vs.:	Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, Magic Aura Uncontrollable
Backup/Team affiliation:	Outcast Corner

“Holy crap, talk about a full dance card.”  Hank just blinked at the data.  “I better get going, they’ll be missing me soon.”

Nikki gave an odd look.  “Aunghadhail says this is probably going to be the easiest fight ever.  Apparently people like her are supposed to be very docile and obedient.”

Toni looked at her oddly.  “With that list of stuff on her?  What is she, the world’s crappiest super-soldier?”

“Don’t ask me, ask Aung.  All I know is there’s a lot of pissed off radiating off that girl.”

“That might explain the Rager warning.”

Nikki shook her head.  “I don’t get that either, and it looks like she’s the one who’s been screwing up the lines all over campus.”

“Hey look, the Outcasts are coming in.”

Contrary to the group’s normal cheery and demented demeanor, most of the GSD team looked as though someone had just kicked their collective puppy.  Molly and Chou came in shortly thereafter, looking like they’d just gotten done snogging before they sat down.

Nikki looked at Molly and smiled, “Molly dear, would you be a dear and call Rythax?  I think he needs to see this one.”

Molly shrugged and nodded as the black panther seemed to erupt from the air, plopping into a chair awkwardly and looking on with interest.  “Ah more tournament, how delightful.  May I ask what is so interesting that you wished me to come for?”

Nikki pointed at the Villain board.  “Tell me what you see.”

Rythax looked over and took in the exotic-cast face, pale skin, metallic hair and runed eyes on the villain board.  “Why is an Artificer participating in the tourney?”

“I don’t understand either but it looks like this is going to be the most one-sided fight ever.”

Chou looked at Nikki oddly and whipped out a twenty-dollar bill.  “Care to place a little wager on that easiest fight ever bit there, Nikki?”

Nikki foolishly took the bet with the helpful prompting of the ancient Faerie Queen in her head.  After all, Aunghadhail had never been wrong before about things of this nature.

* * *

Caitlin glared at Wilson and Bardue while the two of them put the restraint shackles on her arms and ankles.  She decided she might forgive them… someday.  For now she was settling for the silent treatment.

Hippolyta and Hank looked at each other, looked at Caitlin, looked back at each other again, noting the girl’s expression.  “So should we have a plan to keep her from escaping?”  Hank wasn’t exactly hopeful for blissful cooperation.

“Yeah, stay out of my way, traitor.”

Caitlin watched Wilson and Bardue who both looked over at Hank and Hippolyta.

“She’s all yours.”  Bardue waved at Caitlin.  “Your objective is to get her into the circle of cops and keep her there.  The spindle is the pickup point.  If she’s at the spindle in twenty minutes, you win.  If she’s not there, she wins.”

Hank and Hippy looked over at Caitlin from the exit.  “Let’s go.”

“You go on ahead.  I’ll stay here.”  She managed not to inject the anger into her voice.

Hank looked at the two instructors and Wilson just grinned.  “She’s your prisoner.  Transport her.”

Hippolyta looked at Caitlin, who stood stock-still, unhelpful.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.  You’re not going to make us carry you.”

Caitlin looked at Hippolyta with an evil smirk.  “I’m not seeing much incentive to help you now do I?”  She looked over at Bardue, gave him her best ‘I’m not cooperating’ look, and simply said “clock’s ticking.”

“Much as this reeks of bad idea, I’ll get her left arm, you get her right, ok Hippolyta?  That way if she rabbits one of us at least has a grip on her.”

Hippolyta scowled and gripped Caitlin’s right arm.  Lancer took her left.  The two of them hoisted her up, causing a cobalt-blue flash of energy to rip across the bare skin of her arm and hit Hippy’s hand.

The girl howled, as a layer of ice formed along her skin, and the limb went instantly numb, only to start healing and returning to normal almost instantly.

“Oops.  Watch the aura, I have no control over it.”  Caitlin simply cocked her head at Hippolyta oddly, otherwise standing stock-still.  “You could always leave me here, which would keep me from killing you by accident.”

Hippolyta looked Caitlin in the eye and gripped her arm again, lifting, and putting painful pressure on the arm.  “Sorry, girl, I don’t give up that easy.”

The two Poesies carried an unresisting Caitlin towards the center of the arena, carefully juggling their grip when they elicited the odd spark.  The crowd above, watching, was silent, then multiple boos came from the assembled crowd.  When they dropped Caitlin inside the circle of SWAT cops, Hippolyta looked at her disgustedly.  “You aren’t even going to resist?  You’re not even going to try to fight back?”

Caitlin cocked her head.  “Nope.”

“Now I know how Bunker felt.”  Hank scowled, having amped himself up seemingly for nothing as they plopped the odd girl down in the circle to wait for the timer to run down.  He’d actually been itching for a challenge, and the easy win did not sit well with him.

Hippolyta was pissed.  She looked around at the SWAT ANTs, for once at a loss for what to say.  “Why aren’t you even going to fight back?  Come on, this is your chance to show what you got!”

“I don’t have anything I need to prove.”

“So why?  Why are you just giving up?  Are you scared?  Is that it?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“What is wrong with you?”  Hippolyta got in Caitlin’s face.  “It’s bad enough that you don’t care about your grade here, but we get screwed too if you just stand there and let the timer run out.”

“Gunny’s problem, not mine.  I was supposed to have a waiver for this shit.”  Caitlin didn’t look away, didn’t raise her voice, but she made it clear that she was refusing to play this game.

Hippolyta just shoved her to the ground out of pure frustration.  Caitlin wasn’t set, so when her head hit the concrete with a sound like stone hitting stone, both her eyes and Lancer’s went wide.

“Christ Hippolyta, what did you do?”

* * *

“It would appear that our rabbit doesn’t want to run.”  Bardue cursed Loophole for tanking the simulator program enough that they had to use the arena live for even the kids with damn near one-shot lethal powers.  They’d be lucky if they got the system back up and running in time to cover the upperclassmen.

“Would you in her place?”  Ito looked on impassively.  “We’re not dealing with a normal student, and her precursor always cursed at you relentlessly whenever you threw him in with the students.”

Wilson nodded.  “You know he’s right.  I was the only guy she’d ever agree to run full-throttle on in the sims.  I asked her why once.  Something about not being able to do enough damage to me on her own.”

Bardue scowled.  “We might have to do another run for Lancer.  This isn’t even fair to him.”

Ito looked at the monitor banks.  “It seems Hippolyta has taken offense.  Caitlin might be injured.”

“Fuck.  Do we need an ambulance?”  Bardue came over.

“She is moving, however, I am more concerned with what happens with a girl that has serious explosive issues that cannot be medicated properly.”

Wilson turned and started walking out.  “I’m heading to the arena edge.  Ito, if Caitlin goes into her episodes, holler at me.”

“Why would we need to do that?”

Wilson turned and looked at Bardue.  “Because boss, Erik was able to run me around in circles for fifteen minutes in a simulator while shooting, stabbing and hitting me with fucking CARS on a regular basis.  That girl in there is about seven times stronger, a buttload faster, and she doesn’t get tired.”

“Go.”

* * *

Caitlin’s head was pounding.  She couldn’t hear.  She couldn’t breathe.  She couldn’t think.  When she opened her eyes and blinked, looking about all she saw was men in blue uniforms holding guns in her direction, and two nutbars in costumes who kept fading in and out of doubled vision.  Both of them were moving towards her, she was surrounded by guns.  She didn’t remember where she was.  She felt like she’d been too close to an artillery hit.

Artillery…  Danger, danger DANGER!  Mutants.  RUN!  RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!!!

Meaningless words pounded in the back of her head as seemingly ancient reflexes, a legacy of days where panic was the norm and the rule was kill or be killed, took over.  She didn’t even notice the chains of the shackles seeming to explode.

She didn’t think twice about spinning over and driving her heel under the big woman’s kneecap, jamming it upward as hard as she could.

She acted purely on reflex as she kipped to her feet, world seeming to go into slow motion as the blonde howled, slamming a fist into the woman’s abdomen, right between her hips, twisting the punch and grinding it in.

She wasn’t cognizant that she was attacking a student when she lurched over the woman’s head, driving her to the ground, jerking her arms around her head and twisting until she felt a crack and the body go limp.

She grabbed the other mutant hard by the throat and threw him into the crowd of blue-armored gunmonkeys, following him in hard to begin smashing bodies with a terrifying, speedy abandon available only to someone with superhuman strength and speed.

Lancer bolted skyward, startled by the lightning-fast change from docile and injured to murderous, fast and strong.  Hippolyta had gotten taken down in less time than it took for him to pick a fight with her.  If he hadn’t seen her heal broken bones in seconds before, he’d have thought that the girl, who was very busy tearing apart the SWAT guys for their mistake of being too close together and not having clear shots, had killed her.  As it stood, Hippolyta was standing back up, groggily; but she was standing as Hank jockeyed for a better angle of attack.

* * *

Nikki’s expression, despite the ragged, aggressive cheer from the Outcasts a few seat sets away, was somewhat horrified.  “If that’s docile I do not want to see aggressive!”

“Oh of course she’s docile!”  Chaka was at her sarcastic best, “she wouldn’t hurt a fly!  Now the people on the other hand, they might need to worry.”

“Docile?  Where the hell did you get the idea she was docile?”  Chou looked incredulously at her friends.  “Girl beat up Jay-Arm and duct-taped his head in a toilet last night!”

“But that is an Artificer!”  Rythax was worked up, almost like the ‘way things were’ had betrayed him by changing without asking permission.  “Artificers do not fight!  They never fight.”

“Did you pass along the memo to her?”  Toni grinned wickedly.  “Oh this is awesome in a disturbing way!  How often do you get to see Nikki and Rythax get a bug up it at the same time?”

“Right, and on that note, I think I need to go down and have a chat with this girl when she comes down.”  Nikki got up and began walking towards the arena entrance.

“Nikki, that might not be the best idea…”  Chou shrugged as the redhead wandered away.  The Tao said to not interfere.  Something about a date with a roach.

* * *

Hank watched in fascination as he sought a way to enter the fray without doing more damage than good… and came up empty.  The metallic-haired girl was destroying the SWAT guys, at this point turning their own MP-5’s on them.  Men, ANTs, he corrected himself, fell rapidly as the girl turned and stood, checking for threats.  The one she saw made her eyes go wide for a second, as none of the blue-uniformed “officers” were still standing.

Hippolyta pulled herself standing and glared at the girl, whose expression didn’t change from the twisted mask of anger she wore at the realization that her opponent had gotten back up.  Hank watched as Caitlin raised the weapon fast, slamming home a fresh magazine as he dropped all pretense of subtlety and hit the ground hard in front of Hippolyta, blocking the Exemplar as Caitlin let rip on full-auto, holding the weapon out one-handed like a pistol.

The bullets hit his PK field, and simply stopped, falling to the ground harmlessly, intact, in front of him.  Contrary to the movies the bullets didn’t pancake against the psychokinetic energy, rather coming to a standstill about an inch from his chest and falling.  Thirty bullets stopped in rapid order, the adrenaline pounding Hank so hard he could almost count the rapid-fire cracks of each bullet going off in the chamber.

Biting back the urge to flinch back with each percussive shot took every ounce of self-control Hank had.  PK brick he might have been, but standing in front of someone shooting with intent to kill went against every instinct he had.  It just wasn’t a bright maneuver.

The girl stared at him with a blank expression on her face and bolted, dropping the weapon and hauling ass straight into traffic, running straight over the top of a sporty two-seater and dropping right in the open top before grabbing the driver and throwing her bodily from the moving vehicle.  Hank lurched forward, flying hard and catching the screaming woman before she could hit pavement.

When he turned, Hippy was up and chasing after the hijacked vehicle on foot.

“Goddammit Hip, we need a plan.”  Hank threw himself forward in a powered flight after setting the woman down, arcing around a building corner to chase the two girls.

* * *

Caitlin wasn’t home at the moment, her thoughts and emotions gone, subsumed by the explosively violent side of herself that she tried to keep bottled up.  Pure panic and pissed-off fury exploded from inside the emotional bottle she kept tightly locked up inside her mind, erupting with a rush that to her was perfectly normal in the intensity.  Unfortunately for every single empath and telepath with poor mental shields in the arena, it wasn’t normal, and the level of emotion they were used to dealing with seemed like the eye of the storm compared to what the fighting girl was giving off.

A pedestrian bounced off the hood of the car, and she fought to keep the car on the road as she accelerated toward what seemed to be a giant wall where there should, by all logic, have been more streets and buildings.  She was barreling towards a hard, curved, dead-end at over fifty miles an hour.

She pulled the parking brake while hitting the gas and turning the wheel, sending the car into a fishtail reversal that would have made Hollywood stunt-drivers proud.  The car came to a stop as she reapplied the brake, and scanned the area.  She saw the blonde running full-tilt in her direction, the flyer not too far behind.

Caitlin slammed the car into gear after revving the engine, tires squealing and blackening concrete as she aimed the bumper for the blonde apparition that should have died when she twisted its neck.  She wasn’t seeing a human, anymore than she saw a person in a sniper scope’s reticule in Range 4 shooting Crazy Ivan pop-up dummies.  All she saw was a target to be destroyed.

* * *

“Hippolyta I’ll stop her you take her down!”  Hank’s shout was almost lost on the enraged junior as he crashed to the asphalt and threw his shoulder into the oncoming car.  Even exemplars didn’t take vehicular impacts well.  He could, although he questioned the wisdom as the PK field tried to stop the parts of the car that were hitting him directly without pushing along the rest of the bumper.  The results were predictably bad as metal crumpled and shredded with the front of the car folding inward like a pincer around him as the car abruptly, violently, stopped.  It actually hurt a little.

Hippie jumped onto the hood of the car and ripped Eldritch out of the seat bodily, seat belt and all as Hank began bending himself to force the metal away from his body.  He reflected that the girl really was as big as Hippolyta when she wasn’t hunched over and trying to look small.

He almost lost track of what he was doing as the two girls began a violent whirlwind of strikes, and grappling maneuvers with one another.  Hippolyta clearly had the advantage of raw power, but she’d learned her lesson the first time, playing hot potato with Eldritch’s body as the arcs of energy ripped along her skin and clothing.

Hippolyta slammed the girl to the remains of the hood of the car, pinning her by the neck even as the girl ripped an obsidian knife with a lethally sharp edge from somewhere hidden on her person.  Hank stopped trying to pry the metal from around himself and caught the girl’s arm, stopping the arc of the blade that looked sharp enough to slash open even an Exemplar with ease.

Hippolyta hauled back to crush the girl, as a hand reached up in her face and hellish ruby light erupted from the hand, arcing to the girl in front of her and causing Hippie to scream, letting go of her opponent while clutching her face.  The girl wiggled free and fired another eruption of energy, and emerald-and-yellow lightning bolt straight into Hank’s face.  Blessedly there was no pain, save the shrieking in his ears as for once, his PK field saved him from the raw magic, absorbing the energetic release and leaving Hank feeling like someone lit his skin on fire.

An Azure bolt and an odd, lavender-and-cobalt blast later, and he was still alive and breathing, though mildly panicked at the sight.  Normally, magic tore him apart.  Hank’s shock didn’t register on the girl’s face as she suddenly moved her trapped arm inward, twisted and pulled on the unresisting limb.

It was Hank’s turn to howl in agony as he got to experience his very first shoulder dislocation.  He couldn’t fight through the pain very well, and he was only dimly aware of the berserk girl reaching for the coup de grace when Hippolyta slammed into Caitlin, sending her sprawling across the road.  She followed up by grabbing a parked car and flipping it hard into a caroming bounce that almost took the sparky little psycho’s head off.  Unfortunately the girl darted out of the way and into an alley.

* * *

Nikki watched the screen footage with morbid fascination as she wound her way down into the bowels of the arena, looking for any of the range crew.  She’d never seen anyone really hurt Hank before, and to call the event shocking was a gross point of understatement.  She also couldn’t help but turn that maneuver over in her head until it clicked just how the girl had done it.

It was difficult to think straight through the haze of emotions from the crowd, and particularly from the girl in the arena.  As Nikki carefully re-erected her emotional shields she reflected that even Aunghadhail was commenting that she’d never experienced such painfully intense emotion from a human before.  And Aung’s one experience with an artificer told her that the girl should have been emotionally dead.

* * *

Hank howled again as Hippolyta reset his shoulder back into the socket.  The girl began peeling the car away from his body, having to put more effort into it than the PK boy did.

“I still think you’re a scumbag male.”

Hank shook his head slowly, still trying to clear the stars.  “That’s nice Hippy, we need to come up with a plan.”

“Much as I despise admitting it, you’re right.  The old ‘run down and smash’ standby just isn’t working.  This girl’s more flat-out brutal than some of the senior teams.”

Hank nodded.  “Now I know why she didn’t want to play.  You get a good look at her MID?”

Hippolyta nodded.  “Class two rager.  I have this funny feeling we need to get her there so she isn’t thinking.”

Hank shook his head as he painfully pushed the remains of the car off of himself.  “No, she’s already there Hippolyta.  The lights are on but nobody’s home.”

“That’s impossible.  She’s not acting like a normal rager.”

Hank shook his head again.  “That’s just it.  I’d hate to see what she’s capable of cooking up with intent.  She’s got heavy combat training.  She’s using it on autopilot, the girl’s just fighting by instinct.”

“How do you know that?”

“Call it a hunch.”  Hank breathed, breathing shallowly, flushed and warm.  “Alright, this is going to hurt a lot, but Hip we’re going to need to do the old hammer and anvil routine.  I’ll play blocker, you smash her hard.”

“Are you…”  Hippolyta saw Hank’s pale skin, unfocused eyes and his breathing and put a hand to his head.  “Lancer, you’re burning up.”

“Huh?”

Hippolyta reached forward and her hand stopped, energy tingling across her fingertips that felt absolutely bizarre.  “Let me through, Lancer.  I need to check something.”  Her fingertips gently pushed on his neck and she could clearly feel his pulse hammering like a mad dog.

“Fuck, we need to stop this.  Lancer you’re going through a burnout.”

“I feel fine.”

“Dammit you stupid man, this can kill you!”

Lancer stood to his full height, coming up to about Hippolyta’s chin.  “I’ll be fine Hippy.  It’s not so bad right now.  If it gets worse or you think I’m going to go wrong, I’ll stop and head to the infirmary.”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

Hank nodded.  “Yeah, but we still have a prisoner to detain before she wrecks the arena.”

“Fine, we’ll do it your way.  But let me do something first.”

* * *

Bardue picked up the receiver on the phone.  Hippolyta was using a public call box, something the kids were briefed on doing for emergencies in the sims and arenas.  “Bardue.  What’s the problem?”

“Lancer’s going through what looks like low-grade burnout.  He says he feels fine and wants to finish, but we need to have a medical group on standby.”

“On it.  If you so much as think he might get worse you pull the plug, got it?”

“I got it.  I was planning to anyway.”  Hippolyta’s voice was snarky.  She despised being told what to do by a man, even if he was an instructor.

Bardue hung up the phone.  “Ito.  Hit the button for Lifeline, Prism and Jericho.  Tell them I need a medical team on standby, high probable burnout, and get Tenant prepping the infirmary.  We’re going to have injuries here.  Dammit, why did Loophole have to fry the fucking simulators?”

“I do believe someone rather foolishly pushed her into a corner.”

Bardue gave the old Japanese man a dirty look, but did not press the issue.  When he looked back he scowled.  “Caitlin’s coming back around.  She’s going on the attack.”

* * *

Fey reached the arena entryway and saw the tall man in forest camouflage.  He was putting on an armor vest and helmet.  Wilson looked at her and grinned evilly.  “Perfect timing Fey, we were going to hunt you down next.”

Nikki looked up at the man, startled.  “I was just coming because I needed to speak to this Eldritch girl.”

Wilson snorted.  “Yeah well that’s gonna have to go on the back-burner.  Welcome to the Crash.”

Nikki blinked as the man opened the blast doors to the arena.  “What are you doing?”

Wilson looked back at her, no longer amused.  “I’m the insurance policy so Eldritch doesn’t get too out of hand.  She’s… there she goes.”

Nikki watched in horror as a figure moving faster, far faster, than even an Olympic athlete was capable bolted past the area, turning and heading back towards Hank and Hippolyta.  The Ley Lines twisting and knotting in her wake as she tore back into the area, coruscating with Technicolor energy as the corona seemed to build the longer and faster she moved.

“Careful child, that energy aura is more than capable of doing us serious harm.”

“What’s wrong with her?”  Nikki was curious.

“Lots of things, kid.  Some that there’s no helping, really.  You got any healer skills?”

Nikki nodded.

“Good, stay here then, because if I get the call to go in and stop her it means we’re dealing with injuries.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“Oh yes she can.”  Wilson grimaced.  “And the worst thing is, she never needed powers to be an absolute nightmare to pin down.”

Nikki chewed on that for a moment as Aunghadhail turned over the new information in their minds.  “Perhaps it would be wiser to watch and wait, child.  If this man is concerned, then we’re likely dealing with something I’ve not yet seen.”

“Now there’s a comforting thought.”

* * *

Hank took another blast of eldritch energy to the chest, absorbing it as he had before, as the girl popped up above the cityscape clutter, actually running along a wall for a short distance as she snapped off the shot.  She vaulted a car with one hand, blazing another bolt at Hippolyta, who wisely ducked the blast as it caromed into another parked car.

The vehicle changed, seeming to tear itself to shreds as it stood up, an apparition of steel, iron, plastic and upholstery.  The thing roared, then seemed to freeze in place as the magic that empowered the monstrosity sputtered and died, grounded out by the iron of the engine.

Hippolyta rushed forward to meet the charge, only to have the maniacal, raging girl bypass her as she bolted head-on for Hank.  He took to the sky as she tore through the spot he’d just been occupying, letting loose a shrieking bolt of pale blue fire that his PK field absorbed yet again.

Hippolyta had turned and was following hard on her heels, gaining ground when the girl ran forward, straight for a wall.  Just as the enraged amazons were going to hit the wall the coruscating berserker jumped and hit the wall feet-first, hard enough to force her into a crouch.  She jumped back towards Hippolyta, twisting unnaturally and taking the Exemplar-6 girl in the head with a foot coruscating with energy.  Hank felt the concussive impact from above as Hippolyta was blasted through four separate walls to come to a complete stop in an alleyway behind the building she had passed completely through.

He decided he needed to end this, taking to the sky as the girl chased him up a wall, leaping from windowsill to fire-escape to wall to rooftop as she chased him, ignoring obstacles like a crack-fiend spider-monkey.

She vaulted the distance between buildings easily, showing no sign of slowing down as she went.  Hank began to form a plan as he saw one of her powerful leaps.  She had no leverage in the air.  His head was buzzing like the hum of electricity as each blast she snapped at him was absorbed by his PK field.  He was beginning to see multicolored stars.

Hank led her across two more rooftops, then started slowing just enough that she could almost catch him.  As she made her final leap to cross the gap between rooftops, he stopped, rolled back and grabbed the girl by the leg.  She immediately jerked forward, scrambling for purchase in air, and fell right into his foot.  Hank kicked her, hard.  Then he kicked her struggling body again, and dropped her from thirty feet up.

The girl hit the concrete hard: stunned, injured and almost unmoving.  As he watched, incredulous, she stirred, pushed herself up to all fours, and began standing.

“Goddammit why won’t you stay down?”  Hank prepared to slam forward and train-wreck her when his chest erupted, spraying bolts, flares, and flames of energy back at the girl and the surrounding area.  All of the energy she’d thrown at him came back at her as she weakly tried to dodge the effect.  Luckily for her, she was missed by the majority of the seemingly apocalyptic storm that savaged the concrete and asphault.  Even through his surprise, Hank tried to aim the blasts of weird at her.

The Artificer had taken too much of a beating, and when the ground nearby her seemed to explode she was mercifully unconscious.

Hank picked up the unmoving form and checked her pulse.  Her heartbeat was very slow, but strong.  He carried her to where Hippolyta had landed, and found Hip stumbling toward the spot where she’d been kicked from.  “Hey Hippy, we got her.  Let’s get her to the pick-up.”

The blonde amazon nodded, then followed Hank towards the objective.  He gently lowered the unconscious girl - who was mercifully not sparking at the moment - to the ground and waited.

Three minutes later the gong sounded.  The winners, Lancer and Hippolyta, were announced over the school P.A. system.

As soon as the gong went off, Wilson and Prism came running up, Jericho lagging behind, as they loaded Caitlin onto a stretcher to take to the small arena infirmary.  Jericho stopped to give Hank the once-over, checking his vitals and transmitting them to Ophelia in the main school medical center.

“You okay Lancer?”  The blind, black boy was very careful to leave Hippolyta alone.

“After seeing your outfit dude?  I wish I was the one unconscious.”

Jericho grinned.  He touched an earbud idly.  “Yeah doc, I got him.  He seems to be doing okay, he’s a bit warm but the temperature is already fading out.”

Jericho “looked” at Hank without actually looking at him.  “Doc T says you’re gonna be fine.  Looks like a Level Zero burnout.  You got lucky.  The rest of the day you are to relax, drink lots of water, and at dinnertime you are not to leave the Crystal Hall until you’ve eaten twice your normal food intake.  Got it?”

Hank nodded.  “So I’m going to be ok?”

Jericho nodded.  “Just can the use of powers for a day or three, mano.  The more you use them over the next couple days, the more likely you are to cook up to a badder level of ‘oh fuck I’m gonna die.’”

Hank nodded.

Jericho turned.  “Now I gotta go back.  Whatever you all were doing it has the Fury Twins and Diamondback practically spitting violence.  I need to get back to keep them calm right now so we don’t have a Fury event upstairs.”

“Thanks man.”

Jericho nodded then jogged off, surprisingly swiftly for a boy who was still noticeably overweight.

* * *

“All right, Ito, hit the resets and put the games on hiatus so we can repair some of the damage.  We have to put Fey in the tank with Mule next.”  Bardue scowled at the controls.  Putting Caitlin in the Arena had not been his most brilliant moment.

Ito was listening to the audio pickups in the ready room.  “Bardue, you might appreciate this.”

He clicked on the speakers and Nichole Reilly’s horrified voice rang out for them to hear.  “But I can’t do a fight in there!  The Ley Lines are so tangled that I’ll hardly be able to do anything!”

Bardue grinned, feeling his old, sadistic self realigning.  “On second thought, screw the repairs.  Put her in the tank with the cockroach now.”

“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue.”

“What?  Like you wouldn’t do the same?”

Ito shrugged noncommittally.  “Just because one is evil does not mean one needs be flagrant about it.”

“Right, so you would have done exactly the same thing.”

“Yes.”

Bardue chuckled as he put on his drill instructor cover to announce the next Crash Final.

* * *

Nikki entered the arena and grimaced to herself.  Two things were on her mind that interfered with her potential performance at the moment.  One, a new kid with the code name Eldritch had just finished her combat not long before, and she was the one that had been twisting the lines all over the campus recently.  She grumbled to herself about that then sighed.  “Well, at least I know who’s doing it now.”

The second thing was that Aunghadhail was in a near frenzy after seeing this Eldritch.  The girl was something the ancient spirit called an Artificer, a supposedly very powerful fabricator of magical items.  One that was supposed to be docile in the extreme.  Nikki snorted to herself and muttered again.  “If that’s docile I don’t want to see belligerent!”

She looked up at the displays and saw her smiling face next to the MID display.  She wasn’t exactly pleased with the information listed.

 

* * *

In the stands the group from Poe cottage was cheering for Fey, while exhorting her to ‘Kick his ass GOOD!”

Oddly, the part of the section where the outcasts sat was as vocal in support of her as her team and cottage mates.  Notably, Razorback and Jericho.

Jericho almost chortled as he watched the scene below.  “Oh, Mule, I almost feel sorry for you today.  That girl has tricks she hasn’t shown anyone yet, I’m positive.”

Razorback nodded in agreement and signed.  Nikki is going to shock a LOT of people here whether she wins or loses.  There’s a lot more fight in her than most people realize, even with that ‘deadly force authorized’ on her MID card. 

“Deadly Force?”  Jericho questioned.  “I know I can’t read the things they put up on the boards, but I didn’t think they put that kind of thing in for these finals.”

They don’t, except in extreme cases when the mutant involved is considered a danger due to some mental issues, or is too damned powerful for words.  Mine’ll display the Deadly Force Authorized tag because I’m a rager.  Razor signed back with as smug an expression as his lizard-like face would allow.  She actually showed me her card the other day.  And she was pissed about it, too.  A word of advice here, make friends with her because you wouldn’t want her as an enemy.

“Don’t I know it.”  Jericho shuddered at memories of the nearby forest and what had happened there recently.  “I’ve seen her in full combat mode, you know.”

“What are you two talking about?”  One of the twins questioned.  “Mule is going to wipe up the floor with that pretty little -- fashion model.”

“Care to put some money on that?”  Jericho asked with an innocent smile.

Mule’s MID showed, but everyone who could see noted with interest that like the other Grunts’ MID’s, Mule’s was almost completely uninformative.

 

* * *

A warning horn blared, shaking her out of that reverie and back into the present.  Which looked as if was going to be interesting, to say the least.  She knew that her opponent, Mule, was a member of the Grunts, a bunch of kids obviously headed for careers in the military.  As such, he was likely very familiar with tactics, strategy, and (worse) carried weapons all the time, so those would be present in this contest.  Also, the guy could soak up a lot of damage. 

And the tangled up, knotted lines in the arena were guaranteed to be messing up her magical abilities big time. 

“Well, I’ll just have to figure out what works really fast.”  She sighed while moving away from her starting position.  One thing she could start doing right away was making it difficult as possible for Mule to find her for a while.  Following a little concentration and one false start, she took the lines around her and the surrounding air shimmered as it started bending light waves.  The effect didn’t exactly make her invisible, but did make her harder to see unless her opponent knew what to look for.

Casting about to catch emotional traces from Mule wasn’t working.  It seemed as if the guy had a nearly impenetrable shield over his emotions.  Not a good sign, since that left her completely in the dark as to where he might be and would allow absolutely no warning of a surprise attack. 

“Okay, so I do this the hard way.”  Nikki shook her head and began moving through the ‘people’  populating the area with all the stealth she was capable of.  Which wasn’t all that much in a concrete filled city setting like this one.  Finally she decided to risk levitating above some of the nearby buildings to see if she could spot him that way.

“Awk!”  That didn’t go too well.  The tangled lines of force fouled the magic just enough to make it feel as if some huge hand had grabbed her ankles and hoisted her thirty feet into the air.  Which left a cursing, squirming elf girl hanging upside down in midair trying to get herself upright.  But she did spot Mule in the distance, moving towards the center of the sim with the deliberate, watchful pace of a soldier working his way through sniper-infested enemy territory.

Unfortunately, Mule spotted her, too.  The sudden yank of the fouled levitation had left her light-bending shield behind on the ground.  Not one to pass on an opportunity, he raised a weapon and fired in her direction.  It was big, it was belt-fed, it was loud, and it sent swarms of bullets into the space she’d just been occupying at a rate that seemed impossible.

Still swearing in more than one language, Nikki dumped the levitation and took her chances on landing in something softer than concrete as the projectiles whined through the place she had recently occupied.  At least she managed to guide her literal nosedive into an open trash dumpster.  The landing jarred her, but the garbage did soften the emergency landing.  She emerged from the thing trailing old fruit and vegetable rinds, fast food containers, and one very confused rat.

“Go back to what you were doing,” Nikki advised the rat as she carefully brushed it off her shoulder and back into the dumpster.  “It’s probably safer in there, anyway.”

As she moved away from the alley where the dumpster rested, a sudden blast sent garbage, and one now pissed-off rat into the air to spatter the buildings, pavement, and pedestrians nearby.  Nikki winced as the rat stopped to squeak invective at her, then scurried into a nearby sewer.  “Well, maybe not so safe, after all.  But, living in a sewer or not, that kind of language was uncalled for!”

* * *

 

Peeper was repeating himself over, and over in the WARS announcer’s booth, saying the same thing only with different words.  The most frequently used term was “nubile”, and he kept making comments about Fey’s unusually voluptuous figure while Greasy kept the transmitter gear going, ensuring everyone listening in or in the arena was getting his boss’ every word.  They were unaware that Carson had left her office and was stalking toward the arena, her face like a thundercloud, and intent on hunting down the two for commentary that might, no, WOULD be considered explicit and inappropriate.

Fortunately, Carson’s rampage would not be the thing to stop the blatantly sexist and sexual commentary, as the small door leading into the booth crashed off its hinges and fell on the floor when Razorback’s bulk smashed into it feet first in a classic leaping pounce.  Peeper and Greasy screamed as the black-mottled velociraptor pounced on Greasy, dragging him into a corner and pulling out some duct-tape.

Jericho entered a second later, and fired his shock-rifle into Peeper on its lowest power setting, knocking the boy out of his chair, and taking the wind right out of him.  A few seconds later, the Twain boys had Peeper and Greasy huddling in a corner, with Greasy hog-tied and duct-taped.

“All right you two monkeys, you get to sit and shut up.  Don’t piss me off or I let Razorback eat you.”  Jericho talked loudly as he pulled on the headset and plugged his datajack in so he could abuse the cameras.  A little back-editing cut out the gratuitous cleavage shots and close-ups of Fey’s ass that really had no place in the recordings.  Especially after Caitlin had filled him in on the Mutant Deathmatch shows in Vegas and how they were broadcast from Arena 99.

Razorback joined him in the other chair, put on his own headset, and shrieked loudly.

“That’s right, mi compadre, WARS is back on the air with full coverage of the matches.  Sorry about the odd noises folks, but we had to sack the previous announcers.  So let’s get to it!  Fey seems to be pulling herself out of a dumpster and is moving yet again.  Razor, tell us a little about our combatants would you please?”

Razorback let out a series of animalistic chirps and barks, punctuated by an odd whistling noise.

“Right you are brother, now let’s see if we can’t get a close-up of the actual action...”

* * *

Nikki was moving again to make herself into a tougher target, especially while keeping to the cover offered by nearby vehicles, signs, and cul-de-sacs.  She caught sight of Mule headed warily for the spindle.  Gathering her power, she sent what should have been a wall of hardened air to not only keep him away from the thing, but that should have knocked him over.

What happened was… nothing.  Her magic seemed to vanish into his TK field so quickly she almost expected the thing to burp.  Surprised, but thinking fast like Haggarty had been teaching her all semester, Nikki gestured to a spot above Mule’s head and shouted.  “Damn!  This calls for Plan B!!!” 

Mule looked up and behind him.  Nikki took that opportunity to charge down a street running ninety degrees from where he stood.  “I can’t believe he actually fell for that one!”

Skidding to a stop at a rather strange six-way intersection that also offered an almost bewildering array of telephone and power poles, along with streetlights, road signs, and a complex arrangement of stop lights, she thought furiously.  Direct magic seemed to be absorbed into his field. But what about indirect stuff?  Like non-magical things propelled by magic?

Making judicious, if hasty, use of the lines around her, and stretching one in particular across the street, she carefully almost hid herself behind a nearby van and waited for the expected pursuit.

Mule had felt the power of the blast Fey had sent his way, even though his defenses soaked it up like a dry sponge dropped in water.  He’d seen enough of Nikki Reilly to have a healthy respect for her, but following that he was pretty sure that her magic couldn’t touch him.  At least not directly.  Indirectly, however was another thing, So when she shouted about a Plan B and gestured to a spot above his head, he’d quite naturally looked and started to dive out of the way.

By the time he realized she’d been bluffing, a matter of about a second or two, the girl was gone from sight.  Scanning the area carefully, and slowly moving forward, he shook his head and grumbled.  “I know she isn’t a speedster, but damn it, she’s quick.”

Halting at an intersection, he looked down all three options then made a quick check to his rear.  The second sweep of his eyes showed just a bit of flame-red hair showing from behind a van.  “Gotcha!”

As he advanced, Mule decided that distance weapons weren’t going to be all that much help, since they hadn’t worked either time he’d used them.  So it was clear that he’d have to close with the elusive elf girl and force her to fight close in.

Peering cautiously around the back of the van, Nikki spotted Mule moving quite quickly towards her and grinned.  Stepping out from behind her ‘cover’ she formed a small fireball and sent it arching in his direction.  It landed behind the guy, and his shields soaked up the damage that reached him, too.

Mule grinned at her, shook his head and charged forward.  Right into the line she had stretched across the street at knee level.

* * *

“Dang!”  Jericho shook his head.  “She missed him!”

No she didn’t.  Razorback signed while letting out what passed as a chuckle for him and gestured at the intersection Mule had just entered.  Watch.

“Uh-oh, folks, my scaly compatriot is right, seems she’s setting up a little surprise for...  OH!  That HAD to hurt!”

* * *

When Mule went through the invisible line Nikki had strung, his field swallowed that too.  With unpleasant results for him.  The girl had carefully cut every light pole, power pole, and street sign off at ground level, plus the cables holding the massive array of stoplights up, then held them in place with a very delicate web work of magic.  All tied to the line Mule broke as he passed through it.

Stoplights plummeted towards his head, while every pole at the intersection converged on the point he’d reached at that stage of his charge.  With predictable results.  Mule was buried in a mass of power, light and street-sign poles, while just to add more insult, the massive stoplights bounced right into the mess once they’d hit pavement.

“Take that!”  Nikki crowed, then her eyes widened as the mass of wood, metal, and whatever shifted, and Mule emerged without apparent damage.  “Uh-oh!”

Mule was slightly stunned, as much by the precision of the trap as anything else, and shook his head to clear it.  He caught sight of his opponent pelting down the street away from him and rapidly performing another ninety degree turn to get out of his line of sight. 

“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”  He muttered with a grin.  “That’s okay, you can’t outrun or dodge me forever.”

* * *

Peeper warily watched the pair that had taken over his so-carefully constructed and camouflaged announcer’s booth while Greasy simply sat on the floor and shook.  “Do something, Greasy, you useless coward!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  Jericho calmly told Peeper without so much as turning his face away from the surprisingly interesting combat final, as the usual announcer of WARS was aiming a slap at Greasy’s head.  Razorback added to that with a toothy grin that promised mayhem along with the boy’s amusement.  Peeper let out a sigh, and settled back against the wall.

* * *

Almost literally skidding to a stop, Nikki turned to watch the street she had just run down and swore as she spotted Mule moving down it, carefully checking for more booby traps like that one that had caught him last time.  With one notable exception, he caught them all.  Gathering her strength, and the lines she could reach, she directed the radio broadcast antennae she had gimmicked to fly apart and shower her opponent with shrapnel to go ahead and fall apart.

The fouled lines thwarted her again.  Instead of starting to fall, then exploding into a flurry of shrapnel a heavy artillery shell would have been proud of, the thing simply collapsed into itself.  But that wasn’t the worst of it.  The undirected magic formed itself into something altogether unplanned.  Hobgoblins.

“Uh oh,” was her reflexive response to that, as the magic coalesced into a mass of fluorescent yellow daisies that were each three feet in diameter with cute smiley faces in the center.

“Oh great!”  She grumped to herself and into the audio pickups so everyone could hear.  “Now I’ll be hearing ‘Flower Power’ jokes until I graduate!”

Without the least hesitation, the daisies giggled, gathered themselves into a swarm, and flowed towards Mule shouting in high pitched little voices.  “We LOVE you, Mule!”

“I could puke.”  Nikki sighed then shrugged with a chuckle.  “But I’ll do that later.”

Taking advantage of the distraction Mule was soon to be dealing with, she pelted down a convenient alley into another street, thinking furiously as she did.

Mule, for his part was attacked by a swarm of day-glo daisies chirping about how much they loved him and competing for the chance to touch him.  To say the least, he was momentarily overwhelmed by glowing yellow petals and smiley faces making kissie motions at his face.  His shields held off the indignity of being orally mauled by a bunch of oversized, giggling, day-glo daisies.  But the time that took allowed his opponent to disappear again.

One of the daisies managed to get through his temporarily overwhelmed shields to plant a very wet kiss combined with a lasciviously probing tongue on his mouth before it vanished in a puff of lavender smoke with a satisfied and triumphant sigh.

“I’m really going to hurt you for that one, girl.”  Mule muttered as the petals that had enveloped him in a hug that was more exploratory than he liked went up in smoke.  “I’ll never live this one down.”

* * *

“Hobgoblins to the rescue!” Toni chortled as Team Kimba watched the swarm of daisies cover Mule’s form.  “Go, Nikki!”

“One of those daisies managed to maul him a little.”  Ayla announced with a chuckle.  “And he looks like he’s really mad now.”

“Way to go, Nikki!”  Hank shouted.  “Keep him off balance!”

“Would you like having a three foot wide, day-glo daisy maul you like that?”  Chou questioned.

“Depends on the daisy.”  Hank answered with a grin.

The Arena announcer’s voice came over the intercom, proclaiming, “And ladies and gentlemen, the hippies had it right.  Flower Power does trump the marvels of the modern military!”

* * *

“Damn, my hobgoblins really are on my side.”  Nikki grinned to herself and started gathering the ley lines she could find in the air.  Working from memory, she replicated the sound of the gong that indicated one participant of the contest keying information into the spire.  “But this one is going to be good.”

“Now that I have his attention elsewhere.  I hope.”  At her direction, another spindle appeared, only this second one was fifty feet away from the original, and entirely a fabrication of her own will. 

“It wouldn’t do to confuse the poor boy with two spindles, though.”  She carefully worked the lines of air around the real one, weaving another light-bending shield that made the device as nearly invisible as she could manage.  A shimmer like heat makes on a distant highway faded as the screen stabilized, and with a satisfied nod, she began working another trick.

Three duplicate Nikki’s, correct in every detail, including her mussed hair, formed next to her, and she grimaced.  “I’ve handled bed hair, but dumpster hair?  Oh well, no time for that right now.”

“You know what to do.  Have fun, girls.”  She waved the simulacrums away with a nasty grin.  The three duplicates gleefully raced off in three different directions.

One went straight to the false spindle and began furiously keying things into the illusory keyboard.  The others charged off in opposite directions intent on mayhem, but with Nikki’s plan firmly implanted in what passed for their minds.

After the pair of ambushers had disappeared into the crowd, Nikki carefully hid herself from sight, leaving no tell-tale sign of where she was this time around.  “Now this should be interesting.”

* * *

Mule found himself both frustrated by his inability to close with his opponent as of yet, and enjoying the chase.  Admittedly, he hadn’t expected Nikki Reilly to be so resourceful, or quick to take advantage of opportunities like she had done so far.  But the challenge was more than making up for the frustration factor in it all.

As he was thinking of ways to minimize her mobility and inventiveness the sound of the spindle’s gong galvanized him into faster movement.  “Oh, it isn’t going to be that easy, dear girl, traps or not.”

Moving faster or not, he didn’t fail to examine his path towards the goal.  Managing to avoid several fairly clever traps that could have been painful had he triggered them, Mule reached the central area with the spire to see Fey working at the board attached to the thing. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” he muttered while firing a burst of low velocity rubber bullets at the girl and moving forward.  The rubber rounds, though hard, weren’t fatal.  Just painful - and distracting.  He’d decided that keeping her distracted was the only chance he currently had to catch up on the score with the surprisingly difficult opponent he’d drawn in this combat final.

The rubber bullets had no effect, seeming to pass right through their target.  Was it an elaborate shield, or was the girl and spindle a skillful illusion?  Rubber rounds spanged off the spindle, or so it seemed, but the ricochets weren’t having any adverse affects on the nearby pedestrians or traffic.

Also, the girl was so intent on what she was doing with the keyboard, that she seemed oblivious to his attack and approach.  Once he got within six feet of her, the girl and the spindle both went up in a puff of smoke that threatened to blind him with its density for a moment or two.

Once the smoke started to clear, he heard the rumble of a big diesel engine.  Turning towards the source of that sound he was surprised to see a gleefully and maniacally grinning Nikki behind the wheel of a city bus that was speeding in his direction.

Before he could get completely out of the way, the huge vehicle’s front fender caught him.

* * *

“Once again, Fey has suckered Mule into a trap!”  Jericho almost crowed over the mike as the bus quite literally rolled over the Grunt.  “Oh, now that one really had to be painful!”

Razorback added his own enthusiastic whistles, growls, and tweets to the commentary.

“Exactly right, Razor, my friend!”  Jericho responded.  “Whichever way it goes, this particular matchup has been a real surprise to everyone!  Mule is still going, or was, but Fey has given him everything he might want in a contest and more!”

* * *

The bus had been another unpleasant surprise, and had nearly overwhelmed his shields as it roared over him.  Mule held onto enough strength of will to grab at the undercarriage as it passed, allowing the vehicle to drag him along for a while.  It was a rough ride, but his recovering shield held any more damage at bay while he shook off the effects of the initial impact.

Mostly.

Finally letting go, he rolled off the street and took cover behind a mailbox so his still slightly stunned wits could gather themselves without any more disasters for at least a few minutes. 

Able to actually think clearly following the much needed respite, he considered the things Fey had done so far.  They all seemed dependent on deception and misdirection when they worked at all.  Which brought up an interesting point.  The girl seemed to be having more than a little trouble with her magic, and was even avoiding certain points in the sim.  Why?

The mailbox literally melted in front of him from a very concentrated fireball with an impressively limited range of damage.  He felt the heat through his shields, which absorbed the flame and blast.  But a vehicle next to him appeared unaffected.

“Hey, Gunslinger!” a musical voice called out, and Mule saw her standing less than a hundred feet away holding up an ammo belt strung with grenades while she was wearing a pleasant grin.  “How’d you like your bus trip?  Lose your baggage?”

Mule’s hand went automatically to his waist to find his own belt still comfortably there, but his bandolier was gone.  Swearing under his breath, he watched the ammo belt in her hands vanish only to be replaced by his missing bandolier.

“Is it real or is it memorex?”  She shouted with a lift of her eyebrows.  “Lost and found department is open from 8 AM to 8 PM daily except for holidays and weekends.  You can find out there!  Bye!”

Having said that, she turned and sped away with a whoop of joyful mirth, taking what looked to be his bandolier with her.  Along with his rifle launched grenades.

“This is getting annoying.”  He grumbled with a sigh.  “I’m going to be a LONG time living this final down, but you gotta admit, this girl might just keep all the Grunts busy for at least a while.”

* * *

“A fake spindle and a fake Fey!”  Jericho announced to the listening world with more than a little admiration in his voice.  “And a real bus that took Mule for an unexpected ride!”

Razorback chimed in with a series of chirps, yowls, and reptilian guffaws.

“Right again, my friend.”  Jericho responded with a chuckle.  “Most people who take the bus ride inside it, not underneath!”

“Uh oh!  Now she’s waving what looks like an ammo belt and actually taunting Mule!”  Jericho added in near disbelief.  “And she’s off and running again!”

Razorback added some grunts and growls.

“True again, Razor.  Good point there.  Just where did she put the real spindle?”

* * *

Nikki chuckled as her simulacrum, with the faked bandolier, first taunted Mule then darted in a completely wrong direction for the guy to really lay hands on her.  But she did have the real bandolier, though for the life of her she couldn’t quite figure out what to really do with the thing other than stash it somewhere that would be difficult to find until the sim was finished.

Stuffing the thing, loaded with ammunition and things looking suspiciously like grenades, into a convenient corner mail box and making sure nothing showed even with a careful examination, she waited as her opponent chased after the fake Nikki.  Once he had rounded the corner, she moved carefully, but quickly to where the spindle really was.

Only to have the area around her explode into a maelstrom of light and noise. 

* * *

Mule had discovered that the girl he was chasing wasn’t real by the simple expedient of throwing a brick at her.  It didn’t bounce off a shield, or knock her down as it impacted with her back.  Instead, it went right through her.  That was all it took for a little bell to go ‘ding!’ in his mind.  The spindle and Fey that had vanished when he got close, the disappearance of the real spindle, and the too-convenient taunting and uncharacteristically delayed running away the girl had been using so effectively.

Following that, it only took a quick reversal of direction and careful approach to the intersection he’d just left to spot the real (he hoped) girl creeping towards an objective that he still couldn’t see but rightly inferred to be the real spindle.

Taking long enough to gauge her direction of travel, and getting an idea of at least the way to reach the destination she was so intent on, he then took a string of flash-bangs, armed them, and threw them in her direction.  Two could play at the ‘keeping off balance’ game.  “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me!”

The flash bangs went off in a satisfying spread around her, and Mule moved forward.

* * *

“Oh!  Mule strikes back!”  Jericho shouted into the mic.  “Smart guy, he discovered the taunting Fey was a fake and circled back to find the real one, then bracket her with a lot of bright, noisy fireworks!”

* * *

The light and noise were more than simply distracting, but worse, the area she was currently in was a tangled mass of hopelessly knotted lines that she couldn’t possibly make use of.  Nikki shielded her eyes and just had to let her sensitive ears take the punishment for the few endless seconds the detonations were going.

Seeing bright spots in her vision despite having covered her eyes - even with her preternatural reflexes some of the blasts had happened before she was able to react and close them - Nikki worked her way out of the tangle of lines into a more useable area and set shields between herself and the direction the grenades had come from.  Then she crouched down behind the convenient cover of an SUV to let her reeling senses recover at least a bit.

“Make a note.”  She muttered.  “Extra sensitive eyes, ears and touch can be a bad thing at times.  Figure out how to filter sensory input to avoid this kind of thing in the future.”

She knew Aunghadhail would remember to remind her, and maybe even show her a way to do that, so went back to waiting for her now aching head to begin working properly.  She managed to use a small healing to get that done, but had lost ground in the contest and knew it.  She had to move, and quickly, or she would be overwhelmed right where she crouched.

“No way am I going to lose this match cowering like a mouse who has seen the cat.”  She told herself.  “It’s time to get moving and working a few more tricks.”

A quick check confirmed, with no little relief on her part, that the scimitar named Malachim’s Feather was still comfortably resting in its nearly invisible sheathe at her shoulder.  That blade, a gift from her martial arts sensei Susanna Haggerty, could cut through anything she’d yet run across.  Believing that Mule was a regenerator eased her worries about making use of the blade if it became necessary.  She’d just have to be careful not to take off his head if it got to close in fighting.  And try to use only the flat of the blade if possible.

* * *

Mule had judged the direction of her path perfectly.  The girl, after shaking off the effects of the flash bangs with distressing speed, felt at her left shoulder, then began to move.  Right into the ambush he’d set.

“You aren’t the only one who can do this.”  He whispered while waiting for her to enter the ‘kill’ zone.

His gleeful setup of the Claymore mines was hasty, and would be completely visible from the correct angles.  Now all he needed was to get her into range where she could SEE them.  He smirked evilly as he screwed on the barrel attachment to the machinegun that would make it impossible for her to pick out where he was firing from.  He grinned as he remembered the old Combat Range axiom of “If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.”

* * *

Nikki cursed wildly as the rubber bullets bounced almost silently off the ground nearby.  She could HEAR the gun, but it was so quiet she couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.  Really the only noise she could make out was the sound of the bolt of the gun slamming back and forth rapidly.  She dodged into an alleyway as the tearing-air sound went across in front of her and a window shattered.  She couldn’t take the time to draw in the ley lines or she’d be bracketed by the crazy Grunt.  Whatever she said about him, he was a damned good shot, and only her amped-up reflexes kept her from more than one or two stinging, painful bruises as the projectiles ripped by her in volumes that would rapidly knock her unconscious.  Her only hope was to outlast his ammunition supply, which had to be dwindling even with his carefully controlled bursts.

She broke out into the intersection where she’d trapped him with the power and telephone wires when she finally heard the distinct racking sound of a gun clicking empty.  “Gotcha now, grunt-man.”  She grinned as she looked up and saw Mule standing on top of a small apartment building.  She began drawing in the lines when she noticed him waving and grinning.  He held a small piece of metal with a red button on it, in his other hand. 

A cold feeling washed over her as she glanced around.  Her eyes easily picked out several green boxes marked with the ever-friendly warning “FRONT TOWARDS ENEMY.”  Her eyes went wide, and she grabbed the lines around her and pulled the energy into a barrier as they exploded in a wash of sound and flashes of light.  She felt each of the tiny ball-bearings ricochet off the hastily constructed shield, and then another round of explosions went off.

She was still alive when all was said and done, and breathed a sigh of relief.  She held the shield and looked around to see if any more mines were undetonated.  Then the sky fell on her.  She barely had time to draw Malachim’s Feather when Mule dropped right on top of her, his protections eating her mystic shield like a child in a box of chocolates.

* * *

Mule grinned ferally as she threw the shield up then blew the explosives.  He’d waited for her to see the danger, because nonlethal shot or no, the claymores could kick up a lethal spray of debris, and he wasn’t interested in an accidental death for another student.  The secondaries went off, and she held her shield, looking around wildly as he silently launched himself up and dropped straight into her shield, and passed through it.  She never saw it coming.  None of the mages did, even the ones who knew better by now.  His TK field completely absorbed and dispersed magic and psychic energies directed at him, and now he was in close.  All that remained was the beating.

* * *

“Daaaad!”  Troy Reilly hollered as he watched the Mutant Deathmatch broadcast on Pay-Per-View.  “Nikki’s on the T.V...  Again.”

* * *

Carson entered the arena, her face a thundercloud, heading for the spot that she knew Peeper had set up the announcer’s booth, with intent to tear the little monkey a new asshole verbally, when she heard the chirps, whistles and shrieks of Razorback, followed by another boy’s cheery voice.

“Oh DAMN!  Ladies and gents that had to hurt.  Fey may be feisty but I really can’t see having two hundred pounds of TK brick falling on you be happy.”

Carson listened bemused as the two boys’ commentary continued, describing the fight in an actual announcer capacity over the hijacked Arena Intercom.

“Razorback, now that Mule has Fey in close quarters what do you think her chances are for coming out of this on top?”

A series of clicks, whistles and an aggressive shriek fired over the com as Carson looked down at the two combatants and winced.  Apparently Fey had figured out a hole in the TK bricks’ defenses.

The boy’s voice echoed through the arena as Mule’s temper gave out.  “Oh my GOD!  Remind me never to piss him off!”

* * *

Nikki swung and swung again, slamming the adamant-edged blade against Mule’s chest with enough force to do some serious harm.  He parried her swings with his bare fists and slugged her twice in the jaw.  She backed off a bit and snarled, noting with foul humor that he let her, but always stayed right inside her reach.  She attacked again, Malachim’s feather skittering along the invisible barrier blocking his skin.

“No fair, I thought you were a regen.”

Mule grinned widely.  “Hey, what’s a little misdirection between friends?”

Nikki’s blade parried the punches and kicks he threw her way, barely.  He wasn’t nearly as strong as Hank, but he had skill in abundance, and he was keeping her too busy to cast any magicks.  TK field, had to be.  She went defensive and her mind tracked back to the previous fight.  Hank had gotten in close and grabbed that girl, only to have his arm...  That’s right, the joints are the weak point on a TK.

“You fading out?  Come on, girl, I heard you sucked in Hand-to-Hand but this is ridunkulous.”  Mule grinned as he landed two more strikes, and took two slashes across the face.

“I suck?  I’ll show you SUCK!!!”  Nikki flipped Malachim’s feather straight up, whipping end-over-end and his eyes followed.

By the time Mule realized what she’d done, she was wrapped around his leg and angling her foot upward.  He realized she was lined up for a very sensitive spot and winced even though he knew it wouldn’t penetrate his TK field.

The foot slammed upward and there was a sickening pop as she twisted his leg hard to the side with all her might, and his hip dislocated.  TK fields could take a ferocious impact but they didn’t impede his body’s own movement.  Even if it moved the wrong way.  The separate pulls of his body dislocated his leg at the hip.  He felt his leg rip in agony and a red haze went over his vision as Mule quit holding back.

Nikki found herself buried under the sudden onslaught of Brick as Mule began pummeling her in earnest.  Even with his bad leg, he had a grapple, which gave him the advantage.  He caught her in a colossal bear-hug, and began applying steady pressure to the point where Nikki thought her ribs were going to shatter, and she pulled one last, desperate ploy.

The scream that tore through was magically charged, and fuelled with desperation.  Every window exploded, and two ramshackle buildings vibrated and collapsed nearby as Nikki loosed the full nightmare power of a Banshee’s wail.  The field protecting the audience flared, sparked, and failed with a hiss as the students were exposed to the raw power.  Several dozen students passed out, even though by the time it got to them its power was mostly spent, sparing them from the worst.  A sudden ululating howl crackled over the speakers that everyone recognized, followed by a high-pitched sonic whine from the announcer’s booth.

For a moment everything was silent.  Mule, bleeding from both nose and ears, couldn’t hear anything and felt weak and pained.  Some of that raw power had bled through his shielding and hurt him as he slowly looked at his opponent.  Fey had passed out, turning slightly blue from lack of oxygen, and when he let her go, began breathing normally.  He tried to stand, and found that his leg wouldn’t support his own weight.  He picked up a stop sign that had the misfortune of being nearby and used it as a crutch then looked down and lifted Fey gently and threw her over her shoulder.  If she woke up while he was working the spindle he was screwed.

The crowd, the ones still conscious, cheered audibly as Mule dragged himself and his opponent to the spindle and began the sequence to have himself declared the victor.

Carson had to have help standing, as she’d had to shield the arena from the overpowering magics Fey had unleashed.  She noted that it was an Underdog that kept her steady as she threaded her way to see the combatants.  The Announcers could wait.

* * *

“So you won.”  Nikki gave Mule a direct and approving look once she had shaken her head and regained her composure.

“It was close.”  He admitted then grimaced as the injured hip gave way again.

“Sorry about that one.”  The elf girl - Sidhe, Mule corrected himself - winced.  “Here, I might be able to do something about that right now.”

Before Mule could demur or anything else, the girl smacked his hip with a strike that would have make Ito Sensei proud and the hip snapped back into place.  “Ahhhh!  Hey, that’s better, thanks.”

“It’ll be sore for a while, but you can walk normally now.”  Nikki answered then grinned as mischief flared in her violet eyes.  “You can lose the stop sign now unless you plan on using it to warn off idiots who try to fight you one on one.”

“You did good – uhh, Nikki? – or Fey.”  He answered with a grin of his own.  “I never expected you to be so…”

“Inventive?”  She helped.

“Damn tough to fight one on one.”  Mule finished with a look that held respect at the frail looking girl.  “You almost took me and I have combat experience, at least in the sims and in live exercises.”

“Me, too.”  She answered with a shrug.  “Though mine is thousands of years stale by now, it was in real, and bloody, combat situations.”

“So you really do have an ancient Queen of the Fairies riding you?”

“She rides me, warrior.”  Nikki’s voice took on a different tone and inflections, giving it an even more exotic accent than normal and her eyes had quite suddenly become both very ancient and very amused.  “The girl is the power, I am the experience.  Blending the two isn’t all that simple a matter and you have helped greatly in that.  My gratitude.”

“What was that?”  Mule questioned as the girl’s violet eyes returned to being those of a teenager. 

“Aunghadhail.”  Nikki’s expression was a cross between a smirk and grimace.  “She’s an ancient and once very powerful Queen of the Sidhe.  “Don’t let her bother you, she does things like that to people at times, but she likes you, for what that’s worth.”

“I suppose I should be glad about that.”  Mule answered.

Looking around at the devastation, the supposedly-unbreakable glass in shards all over the arena, and some still stunned members of the crowd, Nikki nodded.  “I think you should be.  Did I do that?”

“Yes.”  Mule slid down to sit beside her against the spindle.  “I think my ears are still bleeding.”

“Ouch.”  The girl winced then her eyes widened as she saw something else.  “Uh-oh.”

Carson didn’t give Mule the time to ask what the problem was as she imperiously stalked up to the pair.  “I do HOPE you two have an explanation for all this?”

“Which part, Ma’am?”  Nikki questioned a little weakly.

Carson held out one clenched fist, opened it and turned her hand upside down.  Bits of what appeared to be some kind of electronic emitter tinkled to the floor as she favored Nikki with a scathing look.  “Which part do you think?  That sound blast you let loose destroyed, totally destroyed over a million dollars worth of a supposedly indestructible forcefield specifically designed to protect observers from anything a mutant might come up with.  Not to mention that half the audience is still stunned by what you did.  Explain THAT, please.  And I don’t mean tomorrow, I mean right NOW, young lady!”

“I don’t know?”  Nikki responded at first then took on the expression of someone deeply in conversation.  With someone no one else could see.

“First comes the ‘Defend me’ thing, then the Banshee Wail – or in more modern terms, a last ditch defensive gambit all young Sidhe of Royal blood had implanted at birth.  The wail stuns everyone in the vicinity who aren’t expecting it, and destroys combat, or magically inclined items in the process.  It’s an involuntary reaction to being close to death, and Mule had me in a bear hug that was literally crushing my ribs into my lungs and other vital organs.  At least that’s what Aunghadhail says.”

“Is that your excuse for holding something like this back from the people here who really need to KNOW these things?”  Carson quietly questioned, but her expression was one those familiar with Lady Astarte equated with ‘trouble on the way’.

“I didn’t know it was there!”  Nikki shot back then blushed as she realized she’d just yelled at the Headmistress of a school that taught some of the most dangerous people on Earth how to handle themselves and their powers.  “It’s true, it just, kind of – came out!”

“Just came out.”  Carson repeated while closing her eyes briefly to work on quelling the headache that was threatening to start as she contemplated all the possible permutations of that phrase where this girl in particular was concerned.  “Another automatic defense reaction that you’re going to need to control, just what we need.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, you know.”  Nikki winced as some bruise or muscle strain let itself be known as she shifted position.  She winced again at the thunderclouds still swarming to get out from behind the Headmistress’ eyes.

“No, of course you didn’t.”  Carson let out a long sigh and looked the girl right in the eyes.  “Nevertheless, it’s back to powers testing for you after this, and maybe that will help you get more of a handle on some of these things ‘that just come out’ on you at times.”

“More powers testing.”  Nikki grimaced, but nodded her understanding.

“Either that or a lot of detention work – in jobs without pay because you’re going to be paying for the damages in the arena for a long, long time,” Carson affirmed.

“Powers testing it is, ma’am.”  Nikki let out a sigh of her own but it was clear she wouldn’t argue any longer about the decision.  “I’ll make an appointment.”

“I’ll make it for you, dear.”  Carson almost gently told her.  “That will get it through channels a lot faster.  Expect to hear from the labs sometime in the morning.  You’ll be excused from whatever classes that interrupts.  Just don’t miss that appointment or we go back to option two.  Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.  Very clearly,” Nikki affirmed.

“As for you, young man.”  Carson turned to Mule.  “WHAT were you thinking?  Taking a mutant with unknown abilities to the brink of dying?  You should know by now that always triggers something in people like that.”

“I wasn’t… thinking,” Mule admitted.  “Just reacting, and she was kicking my butt, so the only thing I could think of doing was get in close and hurt her enough to keep her from doing anything else I’d regret.  It wasn’t so much about winning by then, just keeping the damage down.”

“Well, that worked well, didn’t it?”  Carson took a deliberate look at the now unprotected stands before returning her gaze to the boy.

“Uhh, no?” Mule answered with a wince of his own.

“My point exactly,” Carson answered then gave him a wicked grin.  “I’d give you detention for that, but I’m sure Gunny Bardue can come up with something appropriate without my racking my brain to devise something that would fit the current need.”

Mule actually looked a little sick at that thought, and nodded without comment.

“Speaking of Bardue.”  Carson went on.  “He is waiting for you two, along with Wilson and Ito.  If I were I you, I’d limp, crawl, or drag myself up there soon to keep them from getting too impatient with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Both teenagers chorused and started getting up to do just that.

Carson watched the unlikely pair leaning on each other as they limped towards the evaluation rooms with a slight grin she had been very careful not to show either of them.  Truthfully, the devisors in more advanced classes had been chafing to install a new force field in the arena.  Now they’d have the opportunity, thanks to a deceptively fragile-appearing girl and a Grunt that the unobservant wouldn’t credit with more than tactical know how.

* * *

Caitlin woke up in the infirmary while the juniors and seniors scrambled around the arena, pulling the emitters on the force field generator, slapping in newer and better parts, while the freshmen and sophomores looked on, discouraged at not being allowed to help.  Mega-Death and Knick-Knack were heading up the effort, with several other devisors and gadgeteers checking the schematics as Caitlin walked out into the viewing area of the Arena.

She didn’t bother to stop and talk to Gunny Bardue, who was still in the process of gleefully chewing the asses of both Nikki and Mule for screwing around and playing when they should have been paying attention to the objective.  She didn’t bother going to the debrief, instead opting to head out to Schuster Hall.

Carson was in her office, having just returned from the arena to deliver an ass-chewing to a certain pair of student, when she looked up at Caitlin.  “Can I help you?”

“Just letting you know I’m going to talk to Delarose to get that UV band now.”

“Your combat final?”

Caitlin scowled.  “I don’t remember a fucking thing that happened from the moment Hippolyta pushed me till I woke up in the infirmary.  I snuck out while the doc was occupied.”

Carson nodded.  “Is it really that bad?”

“I don’t know for sure.  All I’ve ever seen was the aftermath.  I black out and hear stories of the psycho on a rampage.  Are Lancer and Hippolyta all right?”

“They are fine, although Lancer is recovering from a lovely dislocation, and Hippolyta’s shaky from being beaten within an inch of her regenerating brick life multiple times.”

Caitlin sighed.  “Well at least they had the common sense to pick two kids who could soak up the punishment, but I can’t keep doing this, Carson.  I know I’m technically a student, and I have to play in the sims, but no more live fire events.  Not with the kids.  I don’t want them at risk because I can’t keep a fucking lid on it.”

Carson nodded slowly.  “This is why you always had screaming matches with Bardue and Smythe over teacher versus student runs.”

Caitlin nodded.  “Just because I care about the school and want to keep the kids safe doesn’t mean I’m daft enough to believe I can always keep it together.  If I gotta do anymore one-offs against the kids, sims only.  That way I don’t go flaming nutbar and kill someone.  If we can’t do that, thanks, but I’m going to walk.  I’ll take the whole protection and shielding thing so long as it doesn’t mean my kids are endangered by it.”

Carson nodded again, slowly.  “So you’re willing to simply pick up and leave?”

Caitlin scowled.  “You know, the irony of this situation would be absolutely hilarious under other circumstances.  You used to be the one worried that I’d have a psychotic episode.”

“You know I don’t like this line of thinking.”

“There anything we can do?  I can’t exactly see myself an out here, boss.  My meds ain’t working, I’m not any closer to figuring out this whole Artificer pile of shit and I’m scared to hell of what I might do to someone if they spike me too hard.”

“I suppose the question is then, do you want to leave?”  The Headmistress looked very intently at the stressed-out young woman trying to run things over in her mind.  She wasn’t willing to abandon her people any more than Caitlin was willing to harm the kids.

Catlin seemed to deflate.  “No.  I don’t have anywhere else, and quite frankly the only three things that ever made me feel alive were fighting, teaching and Cat.  Teaching was the only time I ever felt good about what I was doing.  Fighting just reminded me that I didn’t want to die.  Cat’s the only person that ever made me feel like maybe it was worth keeping eyes forward and seeing the next challenge.”

“Whateley is our home Caitlin.  It’s an odd one to be sure, but it is our home.  You are among the few who I could honestly say that no matter what you do, there will always be a place for you here.  You have earned that much at the very least.  We’ll find a way to make this work, come Hell or high water.”  Carson carefully took the choked up Artificer’s hand.  “There’s always hope, even for someone who’s never felt they’ve walked in the light.”

“Thanks, boss.”  Caitlin looked up.  “I’m going to go talk to Delarose, then I’ll be wandering.”

“Don’t wander too far.  There have been some very ugly things wandering in the woods around Whateley of late.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a few.”  Caitlin shrugged, “burn off some of my rage.”

“I would hope not, Caitlin.”

* * *

Nikki Reilly walked along the trail, cursing furiously as she untangled yet another Ley Line knot along her path.  She’d spend most of her time since the Combat Final with Mule tracking down and un-screwing the tangles in the mystic lines around campus since the sporadic snarls that would completely disrupt or send awry her magic were becoming something she almost considered personally offensive.

Fortunately something, or someone, had been aiding her efforts around campus, likely as unintentionally as the tangle was created, but it was noticeable, especially around Dickinson where the snarls smoothed out, and the Ley Line energy simply flowed better than it did normally.  She wanted to know who was responsible for that as well, so she could convince them to come do their thing around Poe.

As she followed the path to another snarl she recognized the area.  Range Four had been the place Bunker and Mule got tangled up with the Voodoo Wolves.  She still could not believe the absolute havoc those two kids had unleashed when the monsters in the dark tried to eat them.  Even Aunghadhail had been shocked and impressed.  Most of the Wild Bunch that had tagged along had been more of a cluster of individuals seeking combat with the enemy.  The two Grunts had stuck together and played off each others’ strengths in a way that had absolutely decimated the corrupted weres even after their weapons had run dry of ammunition.

Nikki grasped the knot in her hands, delicately sliding her fingers in the tangle and flicking her hands around.  To anyone but an experienced mage she would have appeared to not have been as clumsy as she actually was with the process, reeling from the heady rush of undirected energy released by the contact.  Another Ley Line disruption fixed.

The Range Four sign was simple, carved in a wooden plank nailed to a tree, a low-tech marker in quite possibly the most high-tech school in existence.  Below it, another sign was crudely placed so as to read:

Range 4

WARNING!  Do not feed the Marine!

(He might eat your fingers)

Nikki chuckled at the sign as she untangled yet another knot before taking a moment to rest a bit.  She was still sore from the beating Mule had delivered at the very end.  She was pretty sure her bruises had bruises.  The fact that Mule hadn’t snapped her bones like twigs still amazed her.

When she reached the concrete platform that was the shorn-off top of the small hill the firing line was placed on, she looked at the odd, mixed bag of concrete firing positions side-by-side with dirt and holes dug into the ground at various points.  She could see clearly in the darkening light of the evening the mishmash of hulked cars, semi trucks and the occasional armored vehicle with varying levels of damage to them, as well as the control console outside the bunker that would allow the targets downrange to “shoot back.”

She felt the girl on the range long before she saw her, sitting up against a concrete backstop looking downrange.  The feelings were painful to deal with: sadness, loss, confusion, and above all, a sense of being very, very tired.  Nikki re-erected her shields before moving forward.  Anyone feeling that horrible would likely do something to hurt themselves.  She stopped for a brief moment when she actually saw who it was.

The girl with the black metal hair simply looked down at all the targets silently.  Contrary to what Nikki was feeling from her there were no tears, no choking sobs.  Her face was bruised horribly, but the young woman was simply staring as though she was simply trying to relax.  Cuts and scrapes along her arms seemed to be stopped closed with some kind of slick red metal, and her left shoulder bore a brand new blood-red Ultraviolent armband, the rager warning.  Her right hand held a chromed pistol with what looked like ivory handgrips that she occasionally looked at.

Mystically the girl was like a cyclone ripping at the Ley lines, drawing energy in and shunting it back out again.  But what really caught Nikki’s attention were the color of almost every single Ley Line connecting to this girl.  Deep, dark blue, like the night sky before everything went black.  She got the impression that the Ley lines were much older, more mature than the powder-blue things tracing about the boys on the campus.

“Are you going to shoot something or just look at that pretty pistol there?”  Nikki spoke softly as she moved over to sit down next to the odd girl.  Caitlin simply looked over at her.  Nikki felt an odd spike of fear well up, then get subsumed by that feeling of mental drain.

“Dunno, in any case I’d have to go get ammunition for it either way.”  Caitlin’s voice held none of the emotional intensity that Nikki was feeling, for all the world seeming like she was mildly mentally drained.

 “Probably just as well given the way I feel right now.”  She looked over at the metallic-haired girl.  “You really messed up my final you know.  The lines were so tangled that I couldn’t get my magic to do much of anything, much less what I planned.”

Caitlin shrugged.  She was too mentally tired to work herself up to the paranoia level about mages she’d been fostering of late.  “Dunno anything about that, Nikki.  Hell I don’t even know what the hell those lines are you’re talking about for sure.”

“Mule kicked my ass.”  Nikki got a sour look.  “He shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t get anything to really work right after your fight.”

“Don’t sell Mule short.  He may only be a sophomore, but he’s smarter and more competent than he ever lets on.  Plus you’re his favorite kind of meat in the grinder.  He’s been training to bust mages and psychics since he got here.”  Caitlin looked back downrange.

“I noticed.” Nikki chuckled. “I sure wouldn’t want to fight him for real without a LOT of preparation in advance, and using any kind of cheating I could get away with.”

Caitlin nodded slowly.  “So why you up here, Nikki? The ranges are a bit off the beaten track for you, and if you’re here to talk about a mithril needle and a jar of metallic ink, I’m not interested.  Ever.”

“Mithril needle?  Metallic ink?”  Nikki shuddered.  “Honestly when Aunghadhail figured out that you weren’t a mindless drone, she sort of closed down and spent a lot of time screaming and cursing in the back of my brain.  Let me tell you when she gets going, the languages she picks are… interesting.  She figured out what would happen when the ink hits skin.  She’s not happy at the moment.”

“Why would Unga-Bunga care?”  Caitlin leaned her head over and a small trace of energy lanced up her neck across her face.

“No way would I take someone’s will from them.  Aung is rather insistent on that as well, but I don’t know why.”

Caitlin turned her head to the sky and sighed, her tongue issuing words that hadn’t been heard by ears since before mankind walked fully upright.  “Your armor will take time my queen, and will not be complete until the seasons turn eighteen times.”  Caitlin didn’t bother looking back.  “You might not remember, but I do.  I know the name Aunghadhail, even if the memories are only coming back while we talk.”

“Oh gods!”  Nikki shuddered as the memories Aunghadhail was trying to hold back surged forward.  Images of an ancient forge, more massive and impressive than any ironworks of the modern day, dedicated to one purpose, flashed through her mind along with images of an artificer with black, runic tattoos of a type Aung was only vaguely familiar with.  It was the same artificer.  Along with the memories came a knowledge that never once had the thing at the forge ever shown an iota of independent thought or emotion from the day it was presented to the Sidhe.

Nikki shook her head.  “She didn’t know.  She thought the Artificer was a construct, nothing more than a tool.  She really didn’t know.”

“No one ever bothered to find out.  Even the ones who knew me before I’d changed in the past.”  Caitlin shook her head.  “Fuck, now I can’t even sort out which memories were mine and which ones belonged to the poor fuckers who came before.”

“Well I know,” Nikki was almost spitting at the thought, “and anyone trying to pull that will need to get through me first.”

“You’re powerful, Nikki, but there’s always ways around shit like that and you know it.  My big thing is trying to lay low enough to solve the little puzzle before someone puts me in a situation that for me is kill or die.”  Caitlin looked back at the handgun.  “I ain’t living through that again.  If someone comes for me with intent, I’ll freaking kill them.  I don’t care how goddamned powerful they think they are.”

“Good.”  The redheaded elf gave Caitlin a tired smile.  “If you’d let me I could put a connection to you.  Anyone who tried to subjugate you might get a rude shock there.  Besides, the thought of owning someone mind, body and soul like that?  Ew.  Kinda makes me feel icky contemplating it.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.  Dunno if I’m ready to form any kind of mystic connection to anyone like that.  For all I know this lovely little lightshow would find a way to travel the line and fry you.  I’m not exactly in control even in my cognizant state.”

“Then don’t worry about it.  Just bear in mind the offer is there.  Just trying to help out.”

“Thanks.”  Caitlin looked at the pistol in her hand and Nikki felt that sense of sadness and loss connected to the weapon, like it belonged to someone else.  “I just hope I can keep it all together, you know?”

“Believe it or not I know exactly what you mean.  There are some times when I’m pretty sure I’m going insane myself.”

Caitlin snorted.  “Technically, I am insane.  I just don’t have the voice of someone with delusions of grandeur stuck in my head.”  She looked over.  “I’m Caitlin by the way.”

“Good to meet you, although you already know who I am.”

“Yup.  Kinda hard to miss you.  Hagarty and Westmont still making you bleed from the ears?”

“Oh yeah, but it is paying off.  I never would have even been able to stand up to Mule if they hadn’t been teaching me.”

Caitlin smirked, and Nikki felt a sharp twinge of amusement.  “There’s the crux.  Mule’s a good kid.  He needs to quit trying to be everyone’s big brother, but I envy his worldview.”

“I should probably get to know him better, as friends you know?  He has helped me and my friends out a bit.”

“Go for it, Nikki.  Mule’s a good kid, just do me a favor and keep a leash on Aunghadhail with him and his team.  They’re like me.  No taking well to orders from someone who hasn’t earned the right, you know?”

“No worries there.”  Nikki gave a quirky, ingenious grin.  “I haven’t earned that right with anyone, really.”

Caitlin looked over at the redheaded child again, almost as though seeing her again for the first time.  “You just might be one of the good ones this school kicks out.  Just try not to lose that perspective for as long as you can.”

Nikki gave another quirky smile.  “I can’t afford to lose that.  I’ve seen enough royal pains in the ass turn up whenever a kid gets an advantage.  As long as I can see myself clearly, it’s not happening.  I just don’t go barking orders.  I don’t have the respect or the experience for that.”

Caitlin nodded.  “Give me a sec.  I need to put up Cat’s pistol so her Dad can come and collect it.”

“Okay, take your time.” Nikki gives Cait a sad smile. “You lost something precious and I’m not talking about your manhood here, didn’t you?”

“How the hell…”

“It’s the lines I was talking about.  You’re covered in blue ones, just not the baby blue ones that most of the kids here have on them.  You’re older than you look.”

Caitlin still looked a bit shocked, then a bit frustrated, then sighed.  “No, I lost her back on Halloween night.”

Nikki watched as the sparking young woman walked up to the range bunker and keyed the locks like she’d done it thousands of times before.  When her conversation partner disappeared inside, her mind wandered to a big, blonde teacher who very much gave off the same feel.  Emotions too strong, bottled-up rage, and a loss of a loved one on Halloween night.  Mahren never left, he’d been right here, hidden among the children of Whateley Academy to protect him from anyone who might try to use those tattoos to enslave him.

“I’m sorry.”  Nikki didn’t really know what to say.  “I can feel your grief.  That loss, it’s like a stabbing wound.  How do you live with that?”

“This is why I don’t like hanging around empaths.  I always give ‘em headaches.  Fix your shields.”  Caitlin said it with the brusque manner of someone who was used to saying that a thousand times over.

As Nikki reconstructed her shields again, stronger, she listened to Caitlin talk.  “Takes a Poesie to spot a gender screwball, but yes, if that were my biggest problem I’d be thrilled right now.”

“Hey, I’m here to listen.  Whatever you want to talk about.  I’d rather get to know you better than play potential owner, if that makes any sense.”

“Thank you for that. Guess it was bound to become obvious sooner or later. I’m just not so hot at playing the normal girl game for very long. Nor am I quite sure how to handle this Artificer bullshit.”

“I can understand that,” Nikki was rather rueful as she spoke, “I swear if I hear that ‘Queen to Come’ bullshit one more time I’m liable to hurt someone, badly.”

“You one of Horton’s Changelings she’s so protective of?”  Caitlin simply asked.

“Yes.”

“Figures.  Still Carson’s logic in isolating all of you escapes me.  Insulating the other kids from the fact that you all actually do exist just smacks of asking for a tragedy.  Last time one of the kids got outed, it was pretty bad.”

“Tell that to Ayla.”

“I think our resident Goodkind is familiar enough without me rubbing her face in it.”

“Two years ago, I was this kind of klutzy, clumsy, teenage boy.” Nikki admitted. “Now look at me. The girl of my dreams, only I’m HER.”

“You’ll bounce back though. Probably faster than I will.”

“I already am.” The redhead admitted. “Hormones you know, and I didn’t have adult experience to overcome when the ‘change’ hit me, either.”

“Let’s take a walk.  If I stay up here much longer I’m either going to start crying or kill something.”

“Is crying that bad?”

“Only when it’s not healthy.”

“Oh are you in for a treat.  PMS will take care of that.”

“Gee, thank you for reminding me of that lovely bundle of fun I am so not looking forward to.”

“Hey look on the bright side.  You aren’t likely to cause thunderstorms in the hallways.”

Caitlin snorted as the two of them started walking a large loop around the campus.  “With my luck it’ll be heralded by the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

Nikki giggled.  “Oh my, was that a sense of humor in there? Or was I hallucinating?”

“It likes to hide, and come out when kids are being bad.”

“I’m behaving.”

“I thank all the angels in heaven for that miracle.”

“Hey!”

The two walked around campus twice, before parting ways.  They never got around to speaking of anything important, but Caitlin’s mood was improving, slowly.  It wasn’t until close to midnight that the sounds of the campus fell off, and she found herself alone again with her thoughts.  It was exactly where she didn’t want to be, so Caitlin Bardue turned about the campus, went to her room, doubled and then tripled her warding clothing, then left the dorms.

As she moved, her feet began to pick up the pace, and as she finally broke into a full sprint she veered into the quad and began vaulting low obstacles like benches and tables, then began pacing herself for wall runs.  For the first time since Halloween, she hit that odd mental state her friends called flow.  By the time security responded, the madcap girl was bounding across benches, shimmying up fire-escapes and climbing the walls using the windows.  For once she was completely focused on something that wasn’t part of the odd bad dream that seemed to be her life, and she ran. 

Caitlin ran until the sun broke the horizon, then kept running until the students began trickling out of the cottages.  As she passed Melville her problems were long forgotten as the Parkour Hooligan in her woke up after a long sleep.  She slapped Breaker’s shoulder as he came out for breakfast, shouting “Tag!  You’re it, punk!” before bolting through the back trails around Poe.  Zenith was her next victim, and the three exemplars tore hell-bent-for-leather through the campus until the first bell sounded, and Combat Finals began again.

A Whateley Academy Story

Call the Thunder

By Joe Gunnarson

Chapter 7: Screw this melancholy crap!

 

December 14, 2006

Caitlin ran hard, bounding over the bench in the quad as she ran full-out for the Crystal Hall.  To her eyes the world was a blur, everything not seen with perfect clarity an obstacle as her vision focused entirely on things she could use.  The two Exemplars chasing in her wake were running harder than they ever had before, trying to keep up with a lesser exemplar who actually moved like she knew the campus, as though she was born bouncing off of it.

The Crystal Hall was the finish line, but Caitlin had other plans for the geodesic dome once Breaker and Zenith began to catch up on the flat-out sprint.  Both were faster than Caitlin until obstacles came into play.  The metal-haired girl hit the side of the dome at almost forty miles an hour, abusing reflexes and stamina never meant for a human frame as she bounced straight up the support struts, hardly losing speed as she jumped, climbed, and finally ran along the supports to stop at the top.  Mere seconds later, Breaker and Zenith caught her, breathing hard as Caitlin faced the dawn light.

The sun was just over the horizon, and the morning heat felt good to her mind, even if her skin didn’t register the change.  She waited for the two Parkour hooligans to catch their breath then grinned wide.  She’d been wrong when she told Carson that fighting and teaching were the only two things that made her feel alive.  This felt just as good, even if the burning fatigue of a run was absent.  The upshot was that she’d been able to run all night long, spooking the Security patrols.

“Where the hell did you learn to run like that?”  Zenith gave her an amused eye as Caitlin grinned.

“A little Worm taught me.”

Breaker barked out a laugh.  “You met Worm?  Holy shit.  I watched him and six of his buddies kick Lamplighter’s ass.”

Caitlin smirked, “Heard about that.  But I was told you two were the big dog Parkour Hooligans so I decided to come out and say ‘Hi, how ya doing?  Catch me if you can.’”

Zenith chuckled.  “Nice.  God that felt good.  Haven’t done that in a while.  Not since Halloween anyway.”

“Yeah.”  Breaker got a dark look.

Caitlin was in too good a mood to let the conversation go that way.  “Hey hey hey, no reminiscing on that shit you two.  I admit, I wasn’t here, so I don’t know.  Howevah.  This is just too good to get lost in crap moodville.”

“You have a point.”  Breaker looked over at Zenith.  “You think Slappy and Thrash are up by now?”

“You forgot Aquerna, Kuang.”  Zenith’s voice was chiding.

“Oh crap, you’re right.”  Breaker got a look.  “Tell you what, I’ll give my boy a kick in the pants and roust up Thrash.  You wake up the Dickinsonian and we met back here in ten, deal?”

“Deal.”  Zenith looked at Caitlin.  “Pick an empty table.  We’re going to introduce you to the Hooligans.”

“Sweet.”

Caitlin picked her way down the Crystal dome, ignoring the weird looks she got from the other students.  She wandered in and got her tray, checking the time.  It would be a bit before the other Outcasts rose from the dead to join the world.  The Intercom system for the school and Genevieve Beaumont’s voice rang out through the Hall. 

“Lifeline, please report to Arena ‘99 staging grounds.  Lifeline, your presence is requested at the Arena ‘99 staging ground.”

Caitlin looked over and saw the blonde girl jump up, looking annoyed and begin trudging towards the Holbrook Arena, which housed the track field that the Arena cityscape was built in, as well as the underground annexes of Arena ’77 and ’99.  Caitlin chuckled to herself as the girl glowered to herself.

“Vox, Please report to Arena ’99 staging grounds.  Vox, your presence is requested at the Arena ’99 staging ground.”

Caitlin chuckled as the kid in question did not materialize.  She wandered over, grabbed a tray of food and sat down.  She didn’t have to wait long before she heard Thrasher’s voice.

“Breakerman, I know you’re all diggin’ the early morning wakeup, but I swear to you unless she’s a hottie, no chickadee is worth waking up for before the crack of noon if you ain’t dating her,” Thrasher grumped mightily.  “I’m still debating removing the hottie qualifier from that one too.”

Caitlin looked over and saw Breaker dragging in the two other Melvillains that were part of the Hooligans.  Breaker pointed at Caitlin, and the two other boys blinked.

“You’re forgiven.”  Trust Slapdash to forget that Bunker had laid a claim to him.

“Ditto.”  Thrasher didn’t bother her, looking.  She knew the Bad Seed kid well enough to know that for all his talk, he was a perfect gentleman to the girls he showed any interest in, and more importantly, he understood and respected the power of the word no.

Zenith walked in empty-handed a few moments later, without Aquerna and her usual wide-eyed expression.  She sat down and said, “Aquerna had to get up and start in on a task she’s saddled herself with.  It’ll probably take her all day, but she needs to do it personally.  She’s just worried we’d drop her for not showing one time.  As if.”

As everyone got breakfast and settled in, Slapdash looked at Caitlin more carefully.  “Why are you wearing three layers of clothing?”

Caitlin snorted.  “So I don’t explode when I run.” She surreptitiously pulled off the fingerless glove on her right hand and snapped her fingers, causing an amber spark to flash as she moved.  “I have no control over that and it’s triggered by motion.”

“Ew.  You in Hawthorne?”  Thrasher looked somewhat sympathetic as Caitlin nodded.

“She blames Worm for her training in Parkour,” Zenith smirked.

“Worm and his buddies are scary motherfuckers,” Thrasher nodded sagely.  “Very cool to run with, but very scary.”

Caitlin didn’t press that line of commentary.  There were too many things that could trip up in that knot of shit to be safe, so she let the topic involving the Dragonslayers die.  She only dropped Worm’s name to establish her credentials as a Traceur, one of the Parkour experts.

“So yeah, word got to me that you all did the Parkour runs for a bit, so I scouted Breaker and Zenith, I got the names right?”  Caitlin despised lying to the kids, but they needed to snap back into the game as much as she did.  When Slapdash nodded she continued, “So like I was saying I scouted Breaker and Zenith here and hit ‘em for an impromptu run.  Thankfully the people espousing great relief that you were no longer fast-moving road hazards failed to catch on that I wanted to start in.”

Zenith leaned forward.  “How are you at teaching Parkour?  Anna thinks she needs a lot of training, and I can’t do it unless I can tap into someone else’s skillset.  And let’s face facts.  We’re not good role models for her.  Breaker is hard to follow.  I use my Database knack too much to be a training aid for anyone else.  Thrash and Slappy are too goofy to be good instructors.”

Caitlin almost snorted soda through her nose at Zenith as the others mock-glared at her.  “I might be able to manage something, yeah.  Just don’t try to get me to promise too much just yet.  The Magic Department is clawing at my time and sanity.”

Slapdash snorted, “Mages, all willy-nilly weirdness and very little solid reality.  At least I can build something that works.”

“Amen, brother.”  Breaker and Slapdash pounded fists.

“Don’t let your sweetie-girl hear you talking like that, Slappy.  Bunker will feed you your toes hearing stuff like that,” Thrasher grinned at the Grunt.

“Mages and Psychics are not the same thing.”

“So says the guy who is dating a psychic freshman,” Zenith smiled wickedly.

“Quiet you.”

Caitlin grinned, “So introductions?  I’m Caitlin, AKA Eldritch.”

Thrasher looked at her.  “Oh yeah you’re the chickadee who duct-taped Jay-Arm’s head in a toilet!  Nice work!”

Breaker gave Slapdash a look.  “Jay-Arm’s head in a toilet?  You stuck Nephandus’ head… in a toilet.”  His face screwed up with frustration.  “And you didn’t take pictures?”

“I kinda had my adoptive father breathing down my neck at the time.”

“Get this, Caitlin here’s foster Dad is ol’ man Bardue,” Thrasher chuckled.

Zenith smirked, “So long as you don’t wig out like you did yesterday no worries.”

Caitlin looked over.  “Fuck I forgot my UV band.”  She got a sour look.

“You’re an Ultraviolent?”  Slapdash gave her a wary look.

“I’m a class-two rager.  I don’t remember a damn thing about my combat final yesterday.”

Zenith gave her an odd grin and said to the others, “I wouldn’t worry too much.  She hangs out with the Outcast crowd.”

“Just what that pack of yahoos needs, another berserker.”  Breaker shrugged and held his hand out.  “Welcome to Whateley.”

Caitlin tapped his hand and bowed out of the shake.  “Sorry, I don’t shake hands until I am sure random mystic oogie-boogie isn’t going to jump off my arm and electrocute you.”

“Fun.”  Zenith looked over at the others.  “All right folks, I think our new friend here is a sign from the heavens.  It looks like Teach isn’t going to come back, so we have to make a decision.  Continue on, welcome a new victim, and get on with the runs; or we can say good night, it’s been fun, but it ain’t the same without Teach screaming imprecations of damnation.”

“Slappy would have been the one screaming.”

“Back off Thrasher, I’ve been taking my meds!”

“You wanna go?”

“Bring it you Bad Seed sissy.”

The two boys bolted from the Crystal Hall, leaving their trays and several stunned students behind as the pair hared off for their own impromptu footrace.

“I’d say that’s two votes to keep the movement going.”  Breaker watched, bemused.

“Teach did always say that which does not kill us only makes us wish for painkillers.  I’m in,” Zenith nodded at Breaker.  “And I know Aquerna’s going to want in.”

Breaker smirked, “Welcome to the Hooligans.  Your straitjacket will be issued shortly.  Our code is simple: move fast, move hard, and never ever look back.  We’re the ones who show people what we’re capable of, and we have a solemn duty laid down upon us by our mighty teacher to fulfill.”

“I’ll bite, what’s the duty?”  Caitlin had to stop herself from grinning maniacally.

“To drive everyone loitering around the campus completely insane trying to stop us from buzzing them at every opportunity.”  Zenith said it with a completely straight face.

“We’re not doing it right if the rest of the kids aren’t staring or cussing at us,” intoned Breaker solemnly.

“This is gonna be fun,” Caitlin grinned.

* * *

Caitlin got done with the hooligans, got changed, then headed right back to the Crystal hall to catch the Outcasts.  Jericho was walking toward the traditional table with his light tray full of nothing but a dejected look.  Caitlin walked over, confiscated the tray, and dumped the leafy, sparse contents.

“Hey!  That was my food!”

“No, that was a self-imposed torture regimen.  Get back in line.”  She handed him the tray.

“I’m trying to lose weight.”

“And I’m going to show you how to do so without doing the starve-gorge-guilt routine that goes nowhere.”  Caitlin walked the blind boy over to the line of food again, carefully selecting two chicken drumsticks, skinless of course.  She then proceeded to direct her devisor buddy to the eggs whereupon he was instructed to get one scoop of scrambled, two bananas, and then led him over to the dessert line.

Jericho was rather confused by the end.  “Okay I understand the chicken and stuff, but why are we over by the sweet stuff section?”

“Because, me compadre, I am going to tell you the most evil secret of all.”  Caitlin grinned as she stopped at the tray full of green Jell-o cubes.  “Ta-da!  Jell-o, the secret to not feeling starved at the end of a meal.”

Jericho blinked.  “How does that work?”

“Easy, bud.  Jello has crap for calories, so it isn’t much more than protein-jellied water with some sugar spooned in nutritionally.”  Caitlin took the opportunity to dump a fair pile of the jiggling goo on his tray.  “Howevah…  Jello fills you up, so even if you’re not getting the calories, your body isn’t in starvation mode.  So the calories get burned rather than getting stored for a rainy day.”

“This works?”

“This is how the military fills out the chow hall food so the recruits on the diet plans don’t realize they’re being fed three-digit calorie counts.”

“Yeah, but they’re exercising constantly.”

“And thus does the light shine down upon the blind one and illuminate him.”

Jericho scowled, “I think I liked you better when you were cranky.”

Caitlin grinned, “That’s the spirit.  You’ll thank me later, after the urge to kill me passes.”

Diamondback and Razorback were both in line, awaiting their respective allotments of dead thing as patiently as two carnivores are capable, which translated to “not very.”

The heaping trays of meat were somewhat less than normal, but Caitlin did note what had replaced them with interest.  Eggs were cheaper than sides of beef, after all.  “So I see they decided to put you two on the meat-lite diet.”

Diamondback studied Caitlin’s cheerful expression intently.  She turned to Jericho.  “Who is this interloper, and why doth she defile my morning by being perky?”

Jericho grumbled and then Razorback dropped his thermos he’d forgotten in the room on the table.  Jericho immediately picked it up and moved rapidly to the beverage dispensers, chanting the word “java” over and over again, rapidly.

Razorback signed.

Caitlin signed back.  She made it up as she went, which only made Razorback’s quizzical, then confused expression all the more priceless.  He made a whining-chirping noise at Diamondback and pointed at the sparky one with a wounded chirp.

“Caitlin, what did we tell you about signing in languages that don’t exist?”

“Makes sense to me.”

“Yes, but you’re also nuttier than an almond bar.  Speaka-de-eengleesh please,” Diamondback smirked as she coiled around her seat, settling in to eat.

“Whine whine whine whine whine,” Caitlin chuckled.  “Next thing you’re gonna tell me that me being cheerful hurts.”

“It kinda does dear.  Even when you’re happy you’re freaking intense about it.”

“Sorry.”

Diamondback looked at her.  “Don’t be, I like this a helluva lot better than your usual ‘restraint of rage’ situation.”

“Oh my God, the Rage bus is parked, and someone’s a bit too damn giddy for words.”  Deimos sounded amused and snarky at the same time as she and her sister sat at the table.  “How the hell do you wake up and be cheerful?”

“I don’t sleep anymore.”  Caitlin gave a weak smile.

“No sleep?”  Jericho looked aghast as he sat down and took a slug from his coffee thermos.  “That’s blasphemy!”

Razorback signed again.

“Razorback says that perkiness is outlawed by the Geneva Convention.”  Diamondback nodded sagely in Caitlin’s direction.

“All right all right no more bouncing at breakfast,” Caitlin smirked.  She was honestly feeling somewhat good this morning, which was a nice switch.

“Jimmy Trauger, please report to Holbrook Arena for Combat Final.  Jimmy Trauger, please report to Holbrook Arena.”

-I feel sorry for the poor schmuck who has to play with him.  Jimmy’s a nightmare in the combat sims.-  Razorback looked up at the speakers, shaking his head, glad it wasn’t him having to face his buddy.

“Razorback, please report to Holbrook Arena for Combat Final.  Razorback, please report to Holbrook arena.”

Everyone at the table went silent, staring at Razorback, who let out a long sigh in resignation and stood.

“Welcome to the Crash.”  Caitlin, Jericho and Diamondback got up as well, followed by the Fury Twins who took a moment to decimate their trays.

Jericho shook his head.  “I hope the construction crew’s hot stuff because this one’s gonna be bad unless Razor can beat Jimmy to the spindle, fast.”

* * *

Caitlin followed quietly as Jericho led the way up towards the Outcasts’ particular spot they’d chosen, for the first time realizing that Hank Declan, one of the Kimbas, and Chou Lee were both at the Kimba spot not more than a few seats away.  She really needed to start paying attention to what was going on around her again.  Eight months before she’d have been aware of her surroundings in a way that often left accusations of being an Esper at the very least in her wake, when it had all been training.

Chou saw them and she motioned to Hank and the two of them quietly walked over to the Outcasts as Razorback and Jimmy Trauger’s MID cards popped up on the screens.

“Shifter six?  What’s that mean?”  Chou looked at the ratings curiously.

Caitlin shrugged.  “Shifter Six means Jimmy can pretty much ignore the laws of reality when he goes form-picking.  A seven would mean he could shift into inorganic stuff, as well as being able to mimic organics.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”  Phobos looked on, interested.  “Although I’ve heard Jimmy can do some rude things with that.”

“Jimmy Trauger has, in the past, demonstrated the ability to mimic other physically based powers and some blaster effects.  There’s no telling what he could do.”

“Blaster effects?”  Jericho looked curious.

Caitlin looked over.  “He turned into some kind of draconic thing that secreted binary napalm in his mouth to pull a flamethrower effect.  We shall say that the Warhammer 40K crowd on campus has been expressly forbidden from handing him a Tyranid manual.”

“Hence the deadly force authorization?”  Chou looked thoughtful.  “I wouldn’t think that was legal.”

“It’s not,” Caitlin glowered at the screen. 

“So why doesn’t anyone fight the marker in court?”  Diamondback looked more curious than worried.

“They have been, for years,” Caitlin shrugged.  “The cases have all been bogged down in legal proceedings and red tape by the Department of Justice, an effort supported by the UN MCO administration and their butt-buddies over at Goodkind Industries.”

“I’m kinda glad Ayla isn’t around for this conversation.  She’d be arguing that some mutants are dangerous enough to need it.”

“Some are dangerous, and psychotic enough to warrant it,” Caitlin nodded towards Razorback below.  “I talked to him a bit about it, and he’s not fussed because he knows what happens when he goes off the hook.  Plus Razor’s not a US citizen, so the laws are a bit fuzzy.”

“Razorback has never shown any sign of all the horror stories we’ve heard.”  Chou spoke too soon as an inhuman shriek erupted from the arena.  They’d missed the opening moves, and when they looked down, Razorback was tearing at Jimmy’s face like he wanted it for a lapwarmer. 

Jimmy’s response was to melt into a giant blob of translucent bluish goo as the blood and bits of his insides seemed to flow and slither back towards him to be re-absorbed.

Chou went a little pale.  “EW!”

Jericho nodded to Chou and spoke quietly.  “Everyone thinks I’m insane to room with him, but Razorback’s a good person.  Even if you have to make sure you have a means on hand to put him down.”

Jimmy engulfed Razorback.  They could clearly see the massive, black-mottled form struggling inside his opponent’s most notorious shape, or shapeless as it were.  The blob form was what he’d used to try to eat G-Force the year before.

“There he goes.”  Deimos winced along with her sister and Diamondback as their friend lost it.    All three of them began to twitch slightly as their empathic talents immediately and clearly picked up on the ball of primal fury below in all-out slaughter mode.

The blob of Jimmy seemed to vibrate and shake as the form inside began thrashing wildly, then churning its insides until the black, spined raptor literally exploded out from inside the boy’s gooey form, ripping and tearing ineffectually at the flowing thing, healing acidic burns all over at a pace that reminded Chou of Sara when she got hurt.

“That has to hurt.  A lot,” Hank mused as they watched Razorback resort to ripping handfuls of Jimmy and flinging them about, scattering pieces of the amoeboid monster around the arena until it retreated down a sewer.  The beast that was Jack shrieked at the grate and began chasing pedestrians.  It was a lot like watching a Jurassic Park scene with the dinosaurs rampaging, except this was rather realistic by comparison.

“Is he doing that deliberately?”

Caitlin shook her head.  “No, he’s fighting purely on instinct.  Ragers vary but when the threat’s gone they move on to whatever victim is handy.  It’s kinda like I don’t remember anything I did to you or Hippolyta yesterday.”  She shifted a bit.  The pistol she’d confiscated from trout was jamming into her back uncomfortably.  She needed a holster, or to put it somewhere until it could be returned to Cat’s family.

Hank’s jaw dropped.  “I noticed.  At first I thought you were just psycho.  It was like fighting someone with a plan.”

Caitlin shook her head.  “No, rather like our rager buddy down there, if I go off I fight purely by rote and reflex.”

“Remind me not to fight you sane them, you dislocated my arm.”

“If I was sane at the time I would have just waited for the timer to run out.  I don’t like hurting people without a damn good reason.”

Chou looked over at Caitlin curiously.  “But you were going to gut Nephandus.”

“He was literally trying to turn me into a mind-slave.  Hell yes I was going to gut him!”

Jericho and the Outcasts snapped their eyes over.  “Nephandus did WHAT?”

Caitlin waved away his concern.  “I took care of it Jericho.  He’s not likely to try again for a while.”

Jericho nodded.  “I’m still going to have a talk with him about it.”

Chou stopped, and jerked, the Tao thrumming in her mind about something.  “Jericho, you know me and what I am about, so trust me when I say you must not interfere with Nephandus.  He has a role to play and you squashing him would merely remove the actions he needs to take from play, even if they are distasteful.”  That last part was almost a muttered growl.

Jericho looked like he was about to retort, then stopped.  “This time, yes.  Let me know when it’s clear because then all bets are off.”

“Agreed.”

“Holy shit, Jimmy turned into Godzilla!”

All the eyes snapped over to the combat final in progress as Jimmy had become a miniature version of the new Godzilla monster and was tromping after Razorback.  There was an inhuman shriek as a small, mottled black raptor-critter climbed straight up jimmy’s leg and was making a god-honest effort to kill the massive beast.

“Rack-of-shifter anyone?”  Impossibly, Jericho was eating popcorn as his buddy tore massive chunks from Jimmy’s hide.

“Ew.”  Chou did not find the spectacle so amusing.  “So what was that you were doing with all the bouncing around during your final?”

Caitlin shrugged.  “Well, I’m assuming you’re not talking about my exceptional powers of bouncing off car hoods so I’ll venture you’re talking about the Parkour running.”

Chou nodded.  “It was rather impress…”

Pretty much everyone stopped cold and went white as they saw a twisting and thrashing Jimmy T finally get hold of the comparatively miniature raptor in his mouth, and toss it up.  Razorback disappeared down Jimmy’s gullet.  The shifter paused, then began tromping towards the spindle, occasionally pausing for some unknown reason.  It became apparent that all was not well when the mini-godzilla abruptly shuddered, then fell on top of a couple buildings, crushing them in the process.

The Outcasts were all up, leaning over the edge of the arena as the giant lizard began shrieking in agony, shuddering and thrashing wildly as something was going catastrophically wrong.  Chou went pale as the dinosaurian Jimmy teetered, fell over again, and began bellowing in agony as the massive form began shrinking.  There was a ripping and tearing noise as Razorback tore his way out of Jimmy’s hide and scrambled up to the still-massive head, tearing the eyes out of the giant monster’s skull with his claws.

Chou was pale and on the verge of barfing as Jimmy lurched away from the seemingly tiny berserker, smashing his head blindly against the nearby buildings to dislodge the little nightmare.  Jimmy’s own massive claws raked at his head, seeking the smaller foe, and found him.  The raptor-like Outcast got thrown in a blind arc, bouncing off the newly re-installed protective overhead field, and crashing through a rooftop and the intervening four floors with enough force to reduce a normal person to Jell-O.

Jimmy rapidly reduced in size and the watching, quiet throng of students was treated to his rarely-seen natural form, a boy unremarkable save for the rivulets of blood and gore re-attaching itself to him and being re-absorbed as Jimmy consciously forced his wounds to close, and his eyes to grow back through the pain.  “Ow.”

An ululating shriek answered his simple statement as Razorback was already up and running, streaking in on all fours.  The black-mottled monster was still bleeding from wounds where bits of detritus had impaled him, slowly being forced out of his body as his regenerative powers rejected the foreign matter.  As each piece fell away the wound seemed to close like water flowing into a gap.

“Shit.”  Jimmy’s body pulsed and seemed to inflate as he grew to nearly twelve feet tall, almost as broad and covered in shiny black armor plates.  Massive claws replaced fingers as he swatted his crazed buddy to the ground hard.  Blood flew and guts trailed as Razorback flopped on the ground shrieking madly, seemingly mortally wounded.  The massive, armored thing that was Jimmy turned and began running towards the spindle, trying to put some distance between himself and his opponent.  This fight was going nowhere and getting there fast.

“Oh wow.  That’s…  Isn’t anyone going to DO anything?”  Chou was rather shocked that this was allowed to continue.  Caitlin was letting out a low whistle as Razorback screamed again and rolled to his feet, moving forward with a slow, jerky gait that became more fluid as his injuries healed.

The raptor-like Outcast charged and leapt, covering a thirty foot leap in a little over a second, driving Jimmy forward, face crashing to the concrete.  Razor began futilely tearing at the armored plates for a moment before Jimmy swatted him through a building, lurching back to his feet and pounding away at the distance, closer to the spindle.

Jericho looked back at the still-pale Bladedancer and shook his head.  “Right now it’s too dangerous for anyone risking getting between those two.  Razorback won’t stop, and Jimmy’s probably sufficiently freaked out that he’d kill anything that comes in reach.  The only two people likely to live through being down there are Jimmy and Razor.”

Chou blinked, somewhat disbelieving as she watched Razorback come shrieking out of the building he’d been whipped through, claws out and shrieking.  This time, blood flowed from both combatants as Jimmy’s massive arms tore into Razor’s hide, and the speedster’s reflexes allowed him the time to dig under the plates and along the joints to tear pieces from the vulnerable parts.  There was a lot of animal shrieking, roaring and crunching sounds as Jimmy finally lost his cool.

The eruption of violence in the arena was horrific to watch, and the few ANTs in the area died almost immediately as Jimmy’s form erupted with fanged mouths, lashing spines and razor-tipped tentacles dripping venom.  Razorback shrieked as the tentacles impaled him, the spines slashed him with little effect, and the mouths started chewing on him.  The Speedster in turn began tearing and biting with everything he had at a pace that was almost impossible to follow.  The two tore at each other, regrowing skin, muscles, teeth, limbs and eyes as they relentlessly assaulted one another.

Chou felt numb as she watched the nightmare below.  There was literally nothing that wasn’t a mutant, or the Tao, that could stand up to either of them when they got going.  The few ANTs that came near Razorback were torn open without warning or mercy, and as the two alternately ran, were thrown, or rolled tearing at each other through the rapidly deteriorating cityscape, it was rapidly apparent that both of them were simply deadly to be within a hundred yards of.  They didn’t even notice the destruction around them.  They were each too focused on their opponent, the one thing neither could seem to destroy.

As the seconds turned to minutes Chou’s horrified fascination turned introspective as she reached for the Tao, and watched the two combatants below.  She knew that each was too closely matched to the other for either to overpower his opponent.  Jimmy Trauger was a powerhouse, a walking weapon that could potentially be used as a siegebreaker in even a modern war.  Razorback was primed to kill things that defied the natural laws of the world.  Things like Jimmy.  But he had limits.  Neither one could, by himself, do enough damage to the other.  But Chou got the impression that were anyone else in the arena with either, there would have already been a clear victor.  And not all of the possibilities would have worked in the favor of the two rampaging boys.

It was the battle between thought and instinct, order and chaos, strength and speed.  The two boys were in balance.  Razorback was a hard combatant, all aggression and force, where JT took a softer, but equally devastating angle adapting and reacting to the situations to demolish a hard opponent. In many ways it was like watching two martial artists fight, using Aikido and Jujitsu in a very twisted way.

As she sensed things coming to a head, Jimmy Trauger’s massive form ceased moving.  The armored plates merged and flowed into one another, creating a seamless, solid shell, leaving nothing exposed.  It also rendered him immobile, and Razorback toppled him easily on his back, and spent a few minutes futilely tearing at the seemingly invulnerable form.  Jimmy’s gambit worked.

As Razorback slowly regained his senses, he slumped, drained, tired, starving from exertion, and wondering what happened as he considered the shattered cityscape around him.  When he felt the incessant scraping and pounding abate, Jimmy looked out of his shell and melted back to a more human form.

“This is going nowhere.”  Jimmy felt weak and was slumping as much as his opponent.  “And we have only a minute and a half left before we default.  How do you want to play this?”

Razorback chirped slightly and shrugged, then looked back at his friend, contemplating continuing the fight, and realized he was exhausted.  He held out a hand, palm up then slapped a fist to the palm three times.

Jimmy nodded.  As Chou, Caitlin, Diamondback, and all of the other students in the arena watched incredulously…

Jimmy Trauger and Razorback played Rock/Paper/Scissors to determine the victor.  When they finished three runs, Razorback simply turned, and lurched towards the exit, weakly following his stomach towards the Crystal Hall.  Jimmy turned, got to the spindle, and claimed his victory, immediately following Razorback to the same place, for the same reason.

Hank Declan shook his head, disbelieving.  “Tell me I did not just see them roshambo for victory.”

Chou let out a slight smile, still somewhat pale from watching the gorefest below.  “It worked, didn’t it?”

“What’s up with those three?”  Hank pointed at the trio of Phobos, Deimos and Diamondback.

Jericho piped finally, “Don’t bug them for a few minutes.  Those three are empaths, and they’ve been keying off Razorback since the fight started, and they’re heterodyning because they’re getting progressively more worked up.  Do not speak to them, do not touch them, and by god do not startle them.”

Chou looked sharply at Jericho.  “Are we in any danger?”

Jericho shook his head slowly.  “I don’t think so, but I’ve been watching the Fury Twins rather closely.  They’re mimetic ragers, so if they get too big a burst of emotion that they’re not prepped for, we could have a Fury event.”  He was palming a pair of flat devises in his hands, twirling the disks over his fingers.  “Diamondback being in this close proximity just heterodynes things more, so I need everyone to just stay calm as you please, and the three of them will come down off the rage rush Razorback was putting out.  Just be glad he wasn’t raging closer or we’d be in for the fight of our lives.”

Hank looked over.  “They aren’t that bad are they?”

Jericho nodded.  “When the twins go berserk, they conjoin into a reality shredding nightmare everyone calls Fury.  Anything can happen, the chair can turn to cheese, your bones might turn to Jell-O, gravity might invert.  Cap that off with the fact that independently either of them can generate an energy field around their claws that can pretty much rip through PK bricks and Density changers, and you have a problem.  Regeneration fails in the face of that energy field.”

Hank blinked.  “Through PK?”  He suddenly remembered the story about Phobos and Ayla’s arm.

“Hate to say it Lancer, but PK bricks are actually one of the easiest power sets to punk.”  Jericho looked over thoughtfully.  “Well, if you’re dealing with a PK that has the mental acuity of a bag of Whoppers.  You don’t have to worry so much.”

Caitlin snorted, “If he wasn’t smarter than most of them I doubt he would have won yesterday.”

“No hard feelings?”  Hank extended a hand.

“None whatsoever.”  Caitlin politely declined the handshake.  “I’m glad you did stop me.  Things would have gotten really ugly if someone had paired off Hippolyta with Powerhouse or someone with more glory hog impulse than thought.”

Hank nodded, “You broke Hippy’s neck.”

Caitlin winced, “She okay?”

Chou nodded, “None the worse for wear, save for wounded pride.  Hippolyta regenerates at about a six, on top of being an Exemplar.”

“Lucky her.”

Jericho nodded.  “Honestly I think the only people who heal faster than Hippy are Tennyo, Sara and Razor when he’s rampaging.”

“How does that work?”  Chou asked.  “I mean, he’s listed as a regen 4, but he was healing nearly instantly from things that would have slowed Sara down some.”

Hank nodded.  “A little deception on the MID.”

Caitlin shook her head, “Class Three rager.”

Hank looked at her funny.  “What?”

“Powers Theory class, second year, or mandatory learning for anyone rooming with a berserker.”  Jericho flipped the disks over in his hands more as the three girls were visibly starting to breathe normally.  “Rager Threes get more powerful the madder they get.  So Razor gets a bit faster and stronger when he goes apeshit, but not as much as most.  What really spikes is his regeneration, to the point where when he’s so mad all he sees is a red haze and his brain shuts down almost nothing can stop him.”

“You said almost,” Chou looked on curiously.

Caitlin spoke up, “Sonics.  They’re his bane.  Only reason we share that is because Razorback would rather get taken down than kill someone without intending to.”

“It’s also how you shut down a Fury Event.”  Jericho was still paying close attention to the trio of empaths.  “Or at least one way.  Most other methods would require lengthy hospitalizations.”

“We’re a bit berserker-heavy aren’t we?”  Caitlin smirked wryly.

“And a bit brick heavy.”  Jericho slowly put the disks back into the pouch he’d extracted them from.  “I think me’n Razorback are the only two who can’t deadlift half a ton or more.”

“So what’s a class-two speedster anyway?”  Hank was thoughtful and curious.

Caitlin shrugged.  “Speedster classes are more for law enforcement and military use.  It’s there to tell them how tight a cordon they need to deal with a particular speedster.  The faster they are, the higher the class.  If you got someone like Mach-5 who can crank out two hundred miles an hour or more, chasing him is more dangerous than trying to get him mid-crime.”

“How fast can you run?”  Chou asked.

“About thirty-eight,” Caitlin shrugged.  “Exemplars are still limited by the mechanics and physics of a human body, so the actual running speed between exemplars past three doesn’t really scale the way strength and stamina do.  Mostly it’s a factor of you can only run so fast and be so strong before it becomes a liability in a footrace.  Exemplar sixes and sevens have to train themselves to keep a lower pace because they’re strong enough to moonwalk-bounce every time their feet kiss ground.  Not a fun way to travel from what I understand.”

“That’s not something one would expect.”  Chou was thoughtful.  “Doesn’t his MID list him as a Speedster with Exemplar?”

“It’s all in how they achieve the effect.”  Jericho finally stopped watching the girls for signs of dangerous behavior.  “Most speedsters are Energizers and they do it one way, Warpers compress space to achieve the speed effect, Razorback does it on pure muscle power.  When he hits all four like that he can kiss over a hundred miles an hour for a couple minutes.”

“I’ve done a spider crawl, and it doesn’t add speed.”  Caitlin looked curious.  “In fact if you’re built to walk on two legs using your arms is more of a pain in the ass.”

“His whole body’s rigged like an animal, only he has dislocating joints in his hips and shoulders. His arms and legs pop out of one socket and into another when he’s on all fours.  He’s strong, but he’s built for speed over power.  Most of his strength comes from his sheer size and how he’s built.”

“How come his arms and legs don’t keep popping out of joint at random then?”

“The ball sockets are partitioned, so that when he relaxes the right muscles they come apart.  When the joint resockets, the muscles that hold them in place are the strongest ones in his body, hands down.”  Jericho shook his head.  “Mechanically it should not work, but the Exemplar effect does some weird shit on occasion.”

“Sounds painful.”  Hank was semi-watching the newest battle royale below.

“Apparently it doesn’t hurt him at all.”  Jericho leaned back.  “Although it makes him an utter nightmare to put in a joint lock.  He just twists around and comes back to eat your face.”

“Fun.”  Caitlin looked over.  “You three okay?”

Phobos, Deimos and Diamondback all nodded a bit, but the Fury twins still looked agitated.  “Razorback on a tear is a bit… intense.”  Deimos was the first one to speak.

“Speaking of which, where is he?”  Hank looked around for the mottle rager, not seeing him.

“He’s in the Crystal Hall with Jimmy by now, and they’re both in the process of gorging themselves stupid.”  Diamondback slithered over and settled into a seat as she spoke, her voice somewhat strained.

“How do you know that?”

“When Jimmy or Razorback cut loose they blow through calories faster than most Energizers or Warpers.  They’re both killing cows right now.”  Jericho stood up.  “Now, since the ladies are a mite over-stimulated, may I suggest we move along and check up on those two to make sure they didn’t seriously hurt themselves ripping on each other?”

Cait nodded, an action mirrored by the others as the lot of them left the Holbrook Arena and all of the emotional mayhem behind for a while.

* * *

Delarose’s expression was somewhat murderous as he continued to peruse the contents of the file he’d signed for.  The courier delivered the file as requested, he’d signed for it, and he’d begun to read.  The information was more than he’d bargained for, and certainly more than he’d ever wanted to know about the ex-range hand Erik Mahren.  He could have gone forever quite comfortably for the rest of his life without reading the contents of Dx-211-23-DS-Foxtrot.

Franklin Delarose put on his headset, muttering to himself as he keyed the channel.  “Everhart you awake yet?”

“I am now.  What is it, Chief?”  She sounded groggy as anyone should be in the mornings.

“I need to talk to you ASAP about this file I’m looking at.  While educational I fail to see what the bloody purpose of granting me access to this was.”

“I’m on my way.”

Six more minutes of perusing the thick file and giving the evil-eye to Buxton and Trout every time they so much as cracked his door still didn’t tell him how this was relevant to the original stated purpose of helping with information meant to curtail aggressive behavior on the part of Erik Mahren towards the children.  Instead it was more akin to reading an official, government horror novel.

Everhart stepped into the office, closing the door rather firmly on Lieutenant Trout without preamble.  “Beat it, Trout.  Me and the boss need to talk.”

“I see you’re learning how to deal with Third Platoon.”

Sam shrugged.  “I don’t like it, Chief, it feels wrong to simply shut down one of the platoon leaders.”

“Has to be done.  Third Platoon needs to be kept firmly in check so they don’t step too far outside the line.”

“You want me to be your hatchetman like Mahren?”

Delarose shook his head.  “That would hardly be an appropriate use for your skills, or your reputation and record.  We’re going to let Caitlin become the bane of Third’s existence.  She knows what needs to be done, how to do it, and if something a bit more official needs to happen, I’ll turn Smythe loose on them.”

“Why don’t you ever take a direct hand?”

“Because Sam, I only get involved directly in third’s fuckups when they actually step across that line.  Generally speaking, so long as they don’t see me twitch at them, they know they haven’t gone too far.  The staff can take care of their departments, and Third knows they get no protection when they cross the teachers and admin.  Hence why Mahren was always hell on wheels when he came in here.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not going to tell me why they’re afraid to cross you?”

“Because I’m not.  That threat is reserved for the idiots who think they can exploit my school.”  He looked down at the file.  “This thing is probably one of the most foul after-action reports I have ever seen in my life.  Regardless of the fact that I was not appraised of the nature of Erik Mahren’s unit before now, and the fact that it explains a good deal that he never talked about…”

Delarose looked Sam in the eye very carefully.  “This does not have anything to do with Erik being a danger to the kids, except to give me a good idea what nightmares the man lived with every night.”

Sam shrugged.  “It doesn’t have anything to do with that, quite frankly.”

“Then why would Colonel Pearson think that I would find this relevant?”

“Ask yourself Chief, if you needed to give someone a piece of official intel that you couldn’t, how would you go about it?”

Delarose considered.  “I’d make sure there was a relevant issue or threat pertaining to it that made the file Need to Know.”

Sam nodded.  “Erik was just an excuse, boss.  The real danger is in those sheets, not in the men carrying out the mission.  But the fact that Erik is sort of a wind-up destruction ball with a bad reputation for being murderous towards mutants in a mutant school?”

Delarose nodded slowly.  “I despise this roundabout bullshit.  It’s one of the reasons I retired when I did.  How likely is this information to be valid currently?”

Sam looked Delarose in the eyes.  “How many mutant kids disappear every month without a trace?”

“Too many.”

Sam nodded.  “I don’t think the threat is so flagrant as what’s in there anymore.  Let’s just say there were a few incidents with the fifth marines and two SEAL teams that rather pointedly got the message into circulation that this kind of thing would not be tolerated.”

Delarose got the message.  “So they’re probably being more subtle about it.  Dammit, this just confirms the nightmare everyone’s been speculating on.”  He handed the file to Sam.  “Officer Everhart, destroy that file immediately, no one is to see the contents, to include other security personnel.  I will brief Carson on what she needs to know later.  I agree with Hijacker’s after-action assessment.  This would cause issues on a scale we’re really not set up to deal with in the States.”

Sam nodded and took the file.  The paper seemed to dissolve and disintegrate as the nanite swarm surrounding the young-seeming woman began to disassemble the file at the molecular level.  After a few seconds, she was done, and nothing remained for someone to find.

Delarose nodded once.  “You are dismissed for now, Everhart.  I’ll holler at you when I get some more information on whoever has been pilfering my files.”

* * *

Jericho was confused as Caitlin left the Crystal Hall after a few minutes of watching Jimmy and Razorback eat.  “What’s with Caitlin?  I thought she’d stick around.”

Phobos shook her head quietly.  “Something got to her, bad.”

Diamondback wasn’t looking at the group as she watched a very smug Imperious stand from his meal.  Counterpoint and Stygian went with him.  “You fucking cocksucker.”

Deimos was eyeballing Stygian.  “Ghosts.  Stygian did his ghost schtick on her.”

“I’m gonna kill that sonofabitch,” Jericho was growling as he started after.

Diamondback caught him.  “Wait.  Let’s follow him, see where he goes.”

-He’s going after Caitlin is where he’s going.- Razorback signed.

“Then he has utterly-” Phobos began.

“-bitten off more than he can chew,” Deimos finished.

“They’re right, Joe.”  Diamondback looked at him.  “You know and I know Cait isn’t saying everything, she’s holding back, and he’s too stupid to realize this.”

“That’s fine.  We go anyway,” Jericho nodded.  “If he goes after Cait, and we think he’s going to win, we dogpile his ass.”

The Outcasts nodded, and a strong voice rang out next to them.  “If you’re going, we’re going.”  Hank and Chou stood with Jimmy Trauger.

Jericho grinned evilly.  “Titans, move out.”

* * *

Caitlin sat in her room breathing slowly, regaining her calm.  She couldn’t show it but watching Razor and Jimmy rip each other apart and then eat desperately afterwards had set off an atrocious case of the shakes.  It had reminded her of Killbot the one time she had seen that particular horror.  Killbot was one of the Dragonslayer misses.  Their coordination and firepower exploitation never could penetrate the monstrosity’s skin, and seeing it eat the three newbies they’d had at the time...  Watching Jimmy and Razor frantically ripping food apart had brought it all home.

It had been almost like she could hear the ghosts of the dead screaming in her ear as she watched the two eating.  She could almost hear Skid and Pyre begging for mercy, begging for help.  She could hear the new kibble, Tanner, who hadn’t even gotten a codename yet screaming imprecations.

She took another deep breath, fighting back the flashbacks she didn’t want to relive.  She’d managed to get away from the group without too much distress, but she knew Phobos, Deimos and Diamondback had all felt everything washing off of her.

Caitlin moved from her position, standing with her forehead against the wall, and looked around her.  The bed was calling and she almost let out a pained whimper as she contemplated the bliss of sleep that seemed denied her.  She wanted nothing more than to slip under the covers and succumb to mental oblivion for a while.  She had to settle for having regained most of her composure as she trudged out of the Hawthorne basement.

Sara Waite was coming down the hall, took one look at her expression and drew back slightly before her features softened in a nod of sympathy.  The two young women who didn’t know each other – or the fact that each could have been a ready ear for the other – passed in the Hawthorne halls with nary a word and only a nod of understanding.

* * *

Caitlin wasn’t even really picking a direction when she stopped cold, her shoes ankle-deep in snow.  She looked around, and realized she was too close to the Grunts’ club bunker.  She took a breath, and noticed that her breath didn’t fog in front of her as it should in the cold.

“I hate this.” She turned and saw three bodies walking cockily towards her.  Her eyes narrowed, and she recognized three of her least favorite children on campus.

It was a stark revelation that hit her mind.  This little farce Carson had her playing would fail miserably if they let it go on.  She couldn’t let go of the fact that there were three children coming to annoy her.  She knew there was more to Imperious than a seventeen-year old body could hide.  She also knew that for all his power and the experience he and his brothers tried to hide, when it came to the real world, they were children.  She marched forward to meet the ones who would imagine themselves her masters.  Caitlin Bardue wasn’t playing.  Erik Mahren was sick of the bullshit.

No more playing games.

“Get on your knees Galatea.”  Imperious simply spoke as she got close enough, and the raw force of his personality hit her like a jackhammer.  Her knees went out from under her as she dropped, head bowed slightly as part of her simply caved, while part of her screamed in the back of her mind.

“You have no idea how hard it was to figure out how to get you alone.”  Imperious slowly circled like a hunting hawk, his blonde hair and electric blue eyes seeming to transfix her.  The boy reached down and a finger tilted her chin up.

“You thought you were going to fight didn’t you?”  His voice penetrated her defenses like a hypnotic wave.  “You can’t.  The Artificer was created for one purpose, to serve those like me, and anyone who can influence the minds of others will find yours infinitely pliable.”

She wanted to talk, scream, cry as her very body and mind betrayed her, sitting compliant as the New Olympian leader stalked his prize.  This wasn’t supposed to happen, she was able to fight back Fey’s glamour and force of presence.  Upon realizing that thought it hit her.  Nicole Reilly hadn’t been trying to force her to obey.

“Now little Galatea, it’s time to make ready for your new place in life.”  Imperious, Stygian and Counterpoint were so intent on their prize that they failed to notice the quiet arrival of three Outcasts, two Fury Twins, Jimmy Trauger, a Kimba and Bladedancer all arraying themselves in a semicircle.  When he did, he smiled cruelly.  “Tell your friends to go away Galatea.  This is our little show.”

“Go on guys, I’ll handle this.”  Her voice was hollow, devoid of emotion as she spoke, not particularly loud.

Razorback shrieked violently in response.  Jericho tapped something under his clothes, and the same shock rifle she’d evaluated for Flashbang and Tinkertrain appeared in his hands.  Diamondback had settled defiantly on her coiled body, shuffling her tarot deck she’d used to decimate Hekate.  The Fury twins’ hands blazed an unholy red color, and they were the most visible focal point of rage, unable to fully contain the cold fury of their emotions.  Bladedancer, JT and Lancer stood less sure of violence, but wary.

Counterpoint grinned when the Outcasts and their attendant buddies rocked back as Imperious flashed the world with the force of his presence again.  Caitlin wanted them to leave, honestly wanted them to go as he spoke again

“This is none of your business.”  The New Olympian leader smirked as the three non-Outcasts or Fury Twins took an involuntary step back.  “This is between us and Galatea.”  He knew he had an angle.  Bladedancer was tapping something and finding nothing to aid her in return.  JT had fought the Olympians and lost horridly in the past.  Lancer was desperately trying to figure things out.

But the Monsters of the Outcasts had spent too long exposed to the overloading presence of Phobos and Deimos to give Imperious’ command much thought.  “Counterpoint, give them a reason to back off.  Titans my ass.”

Caitlin felt Counterpoint’s hand fall on her shoulder, his sword crossing her throat, lightly touching her neck and making the point.  The raging voice went silent as she contemplated the eyes of the kids who’d come to her aid.  Jericho was yelling something, she couldn’t tell what.  The only thing reverberating in her skull was that Counterpoint was touching her and she would not tolerate that.  A thousand things flashed through her mind, and she discarded them as fast as they came to her.  Years of skill honed by shocking violence told her what she could and couldn’t do to make him let go.  If she made one mistake, she was dead.  The only person she’d ever even heard of taking down Counterpoint in a straight fight was Liz Carson when the maniac had gone too far once.  He was one of the students she despised, and she made her displeasure known with neither warning, nor mercy.

Imperious stopped mid-threat as he heard a triple pop and a shriek of pain from Counterpoint.  He turned and saw the Artificer had impossibly dislocated his arm at the wrist, elbow and shoulder without warning.  Ares was unaccustomed to pain, so he wasn’t able to react in time to keep her from spinning him, grabbing his other arm, and kicking his ribs in perfect mimicry of her maneuver on Lancer.  Counterpoint’s other shoulder came out of joint before the Artificer slammed the boy into – and through – a nearby tree.

“Stygian, deal with her.”  Imperious directed his erstwhile “brother” as he turned to face the Outcasts and friends.  What he saw was no longer them ready to fight.  They were watching, with a determined, expectant air.  Something was hanging over them, something fragile, but he saw it.  One wrong move and whatever was keeping them from attacking would shatter.

“I would turn around asshole.  You’re about to be in for the fight of your life.”  Diamondback spoke as the three empaths of the group went cold.  He could feel them mirror the brutal calm that he was unaccustomed to from human children.  Even Jericho and Razorback were nearly vibrating with anticipation.

Chou was desperately trying to find the Tao, a frustrating experience for once.  Normally grasping the balance point of creation brought a stark clarity.  This time it brought uncertainty, as though it didn’t know where to go, the tapestry revolving around the gaping wound represented by the Artificer.  Until that wound was healed, there would be no certainty where she was concerned, if there ever could be.  Trying to follow the threads opened a maddening, painful plethora of possibility.

Imperious saw Chou’s hesitation and dismissed her as irrelevant, concentrating on the real mutants arrayed against him, glancing back and stopping.  Everyone was watching Caitlin facing Stygian.  His hand was up and he radiated power, they knew what he was doing, and morbid curiosity won out over all else as impossibly, the Artificer snapped to attention, stepping forward once, then twice.  She snapped a perfect salute, then stepped forward again, walking through a parade of specters from her past that only she could see.

Caitlin simply moved past the ghosts, some she recognized, some she didn’t.  She knew who they were, people who’d died by her hand or those of her unit.  She knew enough about Stygian to know that he could not control what she saw.  The maddened chattering voices of men and women from foreign lands were ignored, the languages were not part of her memory.  Stygian’s power had very little hold on one who was fully understanding and accepting of her own nature and failings.

She stepped forward once, twice, and saluted the officers of the men she couldn’t have saved.  They saluted back and stepped away.  She shouldered aside Ravager and Bingo, two of the first mutants to fall at the hands of the unit she’d been part of.  Stygian could not know that she’d reconciled each of these deaths a long time ago.  She saw them in her dreams, but she would not allow them to rule her life.  Coppertop and Blackjack stood aside.  Pittman and Psyker nodded and moved away with all of the fresh-faced dead of the Dragonslayers.  She’d done everything she could to prepare them to battle the impossible, and they’d still died.  The parade continued with each step.  Dead friends, dead squadmates, dead enemies.  These were no mere shades of what might have been, they were the ones she’d felt the vibration of a gun both trying to kill and trying to save, some poor ones who’d simply been caught in the chaos and crossfire.  They were mercifully silent.

The last face nearly broke her.  The open wound causing tears to fall as she just stood before the spectral image of the woman she couldn’t protect, burning bright even in death.  The apparition placed a hand on her cheek, and leaned in, the ghostly touch not registering.  “I’ll be patient and wait for you.  Keep going.” 

Caitlin couldn’t stop the wracking sob as she took the last step and put herself in front of Stygian, mustering her will.  “Go away Stygian.  I’m not going to end you, no matter how hard you try.”  Her voice was shaky, but she spit it out as she turned from the boy and faced Imperious and let the rage build.  “You, on the other hand...”

“You get back on your knees, Galatea.”  He slammed her with the force of his presence, and impossibly he watched her stop, make an expression of pure fury, and continue her actions.

“Fuck you, you over-privileged little punkass.”  She started stalking forward.  “...Time for hand to hand combat, basic course, asskicking edition.”  The pure, bloody-minded fury was building again in the back of Caitlin’s mind.  Every part of her mind screamed at her to kill.  She chose to force her thoughts into a different path.  She was not going to kill Imperious, she was going to break him.

Imperious had quite enough of this game, his hand crackling as he fired lightning into the chest of the angry woman coming at him, the witnesses forming a circle around the two.  She kept coming, the lightning bolt seemingly ignored by her near-ivory white skin even as it charred her clothing, causing the crackling corona surrounding her to erupt more wildly.

“Lesson one, know your opponent’s weaknesses.”  Caitlin stepped the last yard and slammed her fist at Imperious’ chest.  He managed to deflect the impact to his shoulder and rocked back.  It hurt worse than a shot from Kodiak.  Caitlin’s attack wasn’t stronger, but her attack had overtones of actual, serious hand to hand training and intent to cause massive bodily harm.

“Lesson two, don’t skimp out on Ito’s martial arts classes because you think you’re such a badass that you don’t need it.  Most real opponents aren’t impressed.  Training trumps power, you overconfident jackass.”

“Shut up.”  Imperious launched a haymaker at Eldritch’s face as her skin crackled with energy.  In his mind, even Kodiak or Hippolyta would have had a hard time stopping the speed and power of such a strike.  The woman in front of him slapped his hand aside and snapped an elbow forward, cracking his jaw with the force of a bus impact.  Her style wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t particularly inspired, but it was brutally simple in its intent to cause harm.

“Lesson three, blocking.  Your form sucks, you have no experience, and you fight like an amateur school bully.  You have no capacity to fight without your cronies.”  She grabbed his incoming leg and twisted hard, forcing him to spin, lest his leg break in two as she slapped her palm to his back, driving him facefirst into the snow.

Imperious was getting angry.  He was up and darting at her only to eat a blast of chaotic energy that ripped across his body, causing short-lived but painful alterations of his form seemingly at random.  Animal shapes of limbs intermixed with human deformity for a brief six seconds before his natural shape imposed itself and the pain stopped.

Caitlin looked at him contemptuously.  “Big bad New Olympian, stopped by a mere Exemplar four.  Here’s a newsflash as to why.”  Caitlin darted forward and kicked the Exemplar 5 Imperious’ legs out from under him, driving him to his knees as she grabbed his long white hair and ripped his head back.

“Your body as powerful as it is, is still recovering from puberty.  You’re off-balance, your reflexes are off, and you don’t know just how strong you actually are.”  She lifted her hand and drove it down once with each following word.  “I. DO. NOT. SUFFER. FROM. THIS. PROBLEM!”  She threw him to the ground, and backed up.  “Do we have any further lessons we wish to learn today?”

Imperious came to his knees, wobbling, pointing at the first thing he saw: Jericho’s form coalesced in his eyes.  “Touch me again, he fries.”  His fingers began to crackle with electricity.

The Outcasts were ready to surge forward as Caitlin whipped out a chromed .45 automatic with ivory handgrips from its place at her back.  The gun was cocked and pointed at Imperious’ head, and his eyes twitched with a look of sudden worry.  “Last lesson.  If you try to harm one of my friends, I will shoot you where you stand, and I will not stop until your ass goes into a casket.  Do you understand me, Jason?”

Imperious debated, then finally let his arm drop.  Caitlin stepped forward and kicked him rather ungently, facefirst into the snow.  She dropped her knee into the base of his spine and he howled in agony as he felt something cold and round pressed to where his neck joined his skull.

“Understand one thing Imperious.  I have...  No, you don’t need to know that.”  Her voice didn’t carry to the others, save Razorback, who took an involuntary step back as he processed the words coming out of his friend’s mouth.  “If you ever come at me to enslave me I won’t be shoving your face in a toilet like I did Nephandus.  I will kill you, and your spirit won’t be coming back from what I do to it.”  She jerked his head back and painfully arched his spine.  “Do you fucking understand me you fucking cockbite?  I’ll make you my personal exception to my rule of doing no harm on this campus.”  Imperious frantically tried to nod, then found his face slammed back into the ground, hard, felt his nose break.  “Class dismissed.”

Caitlin spun, and saw the air itself in front of her warp and twist, peeling away from the form of Circe.  The woman looked at her, “Don’t you have a riddle to solve?  I would suggest taking your friends with you.  They have important insight to the solution.  Lancer and Bladedancer can stay to with me to help clean up the mess here.”

Caitlin looked at the woman incredulously and then nodded, stepping with a relieved sigh towards the people who’d come to her defense.  As she was walking away she could clearly hear the old witch chewing Imperious out in ancient Greek, and the meaning was as clear as the new-fallen snow to her.

“I told you that you were biting off more than you could chew, you ignorant child.  If I hadn’t bespelled the Outcasts, you wouldn’t have achieved a lesson.  You, all of you would be dead, ripped apart by the monsters you think they are...  you blisteringly stupid boy...” 

Caitlin smiled as she walked away, catching herself up with her friends.  “Let’s go to the tunnels, I need to talk to you all.”

The Outcasts, Phobos and Deimos left the three New Olympians to the tender mercies of Circe, and to Hank Declan and Chou Lee, who were popping knuckles in anticipation of the cleanup.

* * *

An hour later Caitlin sat in the tunnels below Hawthorne, facing the kids she was rapidly beginning to consider friends and peers.  Jimmy Trauger was peripheral of course, he was more Razorback’s buddy than anyone else’s, but the Outcasts... the Fury twins...

They were digesting the story she’d just spun, when she’d finally been able to lay out in her own terms just what she was dealing with as the Artificer.  Her old life as Erik Mahren was irrelevant to them, and she had avoided the topic carefully, not because she didn’t feel she couldn’t trust the kids arrayed in front of her, but because it was something she didn’t want to have wedged between them, ruining their ability to feel they could talk to her in confidence.

Jericho was sitting against a wall, eyes closed as he considered the implications of what he’d been told.  To her eyes, Jericho, as goofy as he could be and ridiculous as he was, was probably the most mature of the bunch.  He reminded her of a few of her buddies in the past, but he had a capacity to keep things in perspective that could make him a great leader were he to exploit it.  He finally began thumbing the strings of his bass guitar and looked up.

“That’s some heavy shit.”  The blind boy took a breath as he collected his thoughts.  “I guess that lets you out as a mutant, that’s...  far too exacting circumstances and rules to be a genetic quirk.”

“She’s been tampered with...  You’ve been tampered with.”  Diamondback amended herself as she looked to Caitlin.  “I don’t even know where to begin looking here, Caitlin.  I don’t even think Circe has anything in her mind that could tell you this secret.”  She looked right at Caitlin, almost staring through her.

­-She’s keeping things to herself, but...- Razorback was signing away as he carefully chewed on the information, -...if she didn’t trust us she wouldn’t be telling us something like this.-

“Okay,” Sandra leaned forward.  “Razorback’s right, you’re not telling us everything about you, but I also think he’s right that you wouldn’t be telling any of us this if you didn’t trust us.  Even if Circe said you should.”

“I hate precogs.”  Caitlin put her palm to her forehead.  “Yeah I do trust you.  The stuff I’m not saying is... things I’m not comfortable sharing with anyone.  Some of it I don’t even want to think about in my own head.  Maybe someday, but...”

Phobos and Deimos nodded in creepy unison.  The redheaded one of the pair spoke first.  “If it’s what causes you to feel the way you do all the time...”

“...we’re pretty sure we all don’t want to know just yet,” Deimos finished for her sister.

“You two are creepy when you do that, you know,” Caitlin almost chuckled.  The two scariest girls in Whateley Academy had the whole eerie twin thing down pat.

“We know,” Deimos intoned.

“We’ve been practicing it for years,” Phobos intoned in return.

Caitlin laughed.  “So yeah, what it boils down to is I have to solve this puzzle before someone a bit smarter or luckier than Imperious or Nephandus comes for me.  What I am is old, and somewhat of an open secret among the mystic asshole community.  As far as a lot of them are concerned, the race is on to see who can corral me.”

“You’re a mystic devisor or gadgeteer who can be locked down and controlled reliably.”  Jericho looked irate.  “Jimmy, can you do me a favor and put eyes on the area and make sure we ain’t got no damn eavesdroppers?”  His Texas twang became more obvious as he got irritated.  “And shure ‘nuff we got Circe sticking her cryptic paws into it, confusing the issue.”

“And now you know why I hate precogs.”

Diamondback chuckled, “Try spending time in a class with Gypsy sometime.”

“So what are you gonna do about this?”  Jimmy T turned on his way to the door.  “I honestly dunno why Circe had me come along with you, I don’t have much to...”  The shapeshifter stopped and looked at a point on the wall.  He saw the little bug mike skitter along the door and settle on the wall.  “Sonofabitch, now I’m really starting to hate precogs.”  He reached out and grabbed the bug, then bolted out the door.  “C’mere prettyboy!  I told you what’d happen if I caught you near my cottage again!”  He was already shifting into something dark and scaly as he bolted out of the room and caught a glimpse of his quarry.

“I hate precogs.”

“Caitlin, you sound like a damn broken record.”  Diamondback coiled herself up and settled in for a long night, while Razorback pulled his beloved guitar from its case.  “In any case, let’s shelve this for a bit and come back to it, let things percolate.  We have a bit of time, and I don’t think Imperious is gonna have the guts to come at you again, but you have another problem.”

“Counterpoint.”  Jericho looked at Caitlin with concern while Razorback nodded frantically next to him, signing away.  “Congratulations Cait, you’re the first person to get the solid drop on him and kick his ass into a corner without using some underhanded shit like an incapacitating gadget.  Razorback says that’s happened once in the last two years.  He kept going till he kicked the shit out of Gloriana for her trouble.  And he beat her bad.”

Caitlin remembered that particular incident, and glowered for a few quiet moments.  “Fuck it, I’ll deal with Counterpoint as he comes.”  She took a breath.  “Unlike Gloriana, I’m not too goddamned proud to ask for help,” she muttered to herself.  When she looked up, Razorback had his head cocked quizzically at her.  He’d heard every muttered comment, she knew, and he’d probably heard her snarled speech to Imperious as well.

“So what do we do now?”  Deimos asked.

“Well for one, we make sure you have someone with you who can keep an eye out at all times,” Jericho pointed at Caitlin as he spoke.  “Don’t gimme that look, Sparky.  You got lucky that Imperious didn’t nab you tonight, and you know it.”

Caitlin forced the absolute irritation down and growled.  He was right, but she couldn’t live under watch and guard.  “I’d rather solve this problem and obviate the need for it.”

“Caitlin,” Diamondback slithered over and put a hand on Caitlin’s still shoulder, “I know you don’t like it but you need help.  If someone gets you, you’re going to be stuck playing supernatural zombie while some asshole fingerpaints the world with the ashes of your old life, if even half of what you can do is...”  She stopped as she saw Caitlin’s abruptly wide-eyed expression turn and look at her.  “What?”

Caitlin was staring at Diamondback as five words rattled around in her skull, reverberating off her memories.  Ashes of an old life.  She simply stared for a moment in the stunned silence, mouth moving like a beached fish until she found her voice.

“Diamondback, I hate precogs, but right now I could fucking kiss you.”

...To be concluded in ‘Ashes and Steel’.

And I’m staring down the barrel of a forty-five

Swimming through the ashes of another life.

No real reason to accept the way things have changed,

Staring down the barrel of a forty-five.

Shinedown, .45