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The night stretched endless over Eastern Washington's high desert, the emptiness between Yakima and the Tri-Cities a void of civilization. No cars broke the silence of Highway 24, no lights punctured the darkness save for stars scattered across the cloudless sky like salt on black velvet. Scrubland rolled away in all directions, sage and bunch grass barely visible in the starlight, their familiar desert scent carried on a wind that whispered through the empty spaces between them. The late summer air held onto the day's heat, radiating up from sun-baked earth and rock, though the temperature was falling as night deepened. Crickets chirped their lonely songs, and somewhere in the distance, a coyote's howl went unanswered. It was the kind of absolute silence that made the world feel uninhabited, untouched, as if humanity had never pressed its fingerprints into this corner of the Northwest. Then everything - the crickets, the wind, even the air itself - went still.

Thirteen lightning bolts pierced the cloudless night over Eastern Washington's empty scrubland, striking in perfect sequence to form a circle. No thunder followed. No storm preceded them. Just silent spears of light from a moonless sky, their electric fingers clawing at the earth below. As the final bolt's afterimage faded from the air, thirteen figures stood where empty ground had been moments before, arranged in an uneven circle like numbers on a broken clock. The acrid smell of ozone hung heavy in the air, mingling with an older scent - something foreign and electric, like metal left too long in the sun. Each figure shifted slightly, adjusting to familiar gravity, familiar air, a familiar world that somehow felt younger than the one they'd left behind. Around them, the scrubland stretched vast and empty, scattered sage and rocks the only witnesses to their impossible arrival. The stars above were bright and clear, unchanged from when they'd left, though to most of the gathered figures, they seemed dim compared to skies they'd grown accustomed to.

Movement rippled through the circle as one figure shifted forward, adjusting the strap of a worn backpack. Rochelle Newman - Rose to anyone who'd known her before - stood almost exactly as she had that morning a week ago: slight build, wavy brown hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, wire-rimmed glasses catching starlight. But there were differences, subtle yet profound. Her hands, once fidgeting and uncertain, now moved with deliberate precision. Where she had once hunched slightly, trying to disappear behind Tori's shadow, she now stood straight, her posture carrying the weight of earned confidence. Most telling was her gaze - the eyes behind those glasses no longer darted away from attention, but took in every detail of their surroundings with the focused intensity of someone who had learned to see beneath the surface of things. If you looked closely enough, you might catch the ghost of equations reflecting in her lenses, mathematical formulas that had no place in any earthly textbook.

Near Rose stood Kyle, still wearing the same casual clothes he'd favored as a delivery driver - worn jeans, comfortable boots, faded t-shirt with some old band logo. At first glance, he seemed the most unchanged of the group, still carrying himself with that easy-going slouch that had once deflected attention with practiced humor. But there was something different in the way he held himself now, a contained energy that thrummed just beneath the surface. His hands, shoved into his pockets in a gesture that should have seemed relaxed, were held too still. The air around him felt charged, as if the space itself recognized something dangerous trying to look harmless. His former quick grin had been replaced by something more measured, and his eyes - once quick to find the joke in any situation - now held the banked heat of someone who had learned to control fire by becoming it.

River stood apart from the others, her dreadlocks no longer adorned with the colorful beads and clips that had once marked her as a campus activist. Her bare feet pressed into the desert soil with deliberate intent, toes curling into the earth as if reading its secrets through touch alone. The designer eco-friendly clothing she'd once worn as a statement had been replaced by simple robes of undyed cloth, their rough texture a far cry from her former carefully curated appearance. Each breath she took seemed synchronized with the land itself, and the air around her held an unnatural stillness, as if the earth was listening to her presence. The passionate righteousness that had once filled her voice at climate protests had transformed into something older and more primal - not a student of nature, but something that had become part of it. When a slight breeze stirred the sage around them, the plants seemed to lean toward her, drawn by forces that had nothing to do with wind.

Derek stood near River, but no longer in her shadow. His gangly frame and hooked nose were the same, but everything else about his bearing had changed. Where he had once hunched and fidgeted, desperate for approval, he now stood with an unnatural stillness that commanded its own attention. The air around him moved wrong - breezes dying before they reached him, dust falling straight down rather than drifting. His robes, though similar to River's in their simplicity, carried an authority of their own, rippling occasionally without any wind to stir them. The desperate need to please that had once radiated from him had been replaced by absolute certainty. When he shifted his weight, the movement carried an echo of something vast and empty, like the hollow spaces between stars. He no longer watched River from the corner of his eye - instead, his gaze swept across the horizon as if the sky itself answered to him. In his presence, even the stars seemed to dim, as if recognizing a rival claim to their domain.

Hazel stood with the kind of perfect posture that spoke of internal reinforcement rather than years of her mothers' reminders. Her practical clothing - cargo pants, fitted jacket, steel-toed boots - looked almost military in its functionality, a far cry from the carefully cultivated aesthetic she'd once maintained at her coffee shop job. The left sleeve of her jacket hung naturally, concealing modifications that matched her original form so precisely that only the most observant might notice the difference. Her old hesitation had vanished, replaced by the confident efficiency of someone who had finally stopped performing expected roles and embraced actual capability. The half-shaved hairstyle she'd once worn as a statement of identity now served a practical purpose, revealing the neat row of neural interface ports at the base of her skull. Her eyes, still sharp with intelligence, now carried the enhanced focus of someone who could see spectrum beyond human normal, though she'd chosen to keep the modifications subtle - practical advantages rather than obvious changes.

Restless energy radiated from a figure at the edge of the group, his athletic frame now carrying a predator's coiled tension. Even standing still, something about his presence suggested barely contained motion, like a cheetah forced to move at human speed. His uniform spoke of military precision - black and gunmetal gray body armor, form-fitting but obviously armored, with sharp angular plates that emphasized function over aesthetics. Red piping traced the seams, and a silver techno styled skull emblem adorned the high collar, its empty eyes suggesting both authority and menace. Each piece of the outfit looked like it had been designed to enable swift, lethal movement while offering maximum protection. His former basketball player's grace had evolved into something more dangerous - each slight movement precisely controlled, as if the world itself moved too slowly for his comfort. Dark eyes scanned the horizon with inhuman speed, taking in details faster than normal reflexes should allow. When he shifted his weight, the ground seemed to compress slightly beneath his feet, his enhanced muscles betraying their power even in such a simple motion. The aristocratic confidence that had once defined him had been replaced by something more earned - the contained power of someone who had learned the hard way that true speed came with a price.

At the circle's northern point stood a figure whose stance spoke of hard-earned combat experience rather than natural authority. Gone was the casual outdoor guide who'd once joked about rafting safety. In his place stood someone who'd learned to survive through careful preparation and tactical thinking. Alexander's gear looked professional grade but practical - a mix of reinforced clothing and modular armor, each piece chosen for functionality. Weapon holsters and equipment pouches were arranged with practiced efficiency, nothing excessive but everything necessary within easy reach. A mesh of subdermal plating was barely visible at his neck, disappearing beneath his collar like a second skin. His face carried new lines of experience, but his eyes remained alert and calculating, taking in every detail of their surroundings with military precision. When he shifted position, the movement was deliberately controlled, each action economical and purpose-driven. His former guide's easy confidence had hardened into something more proven - the bearing of someone who'd learned that survival often depended on having the right tool for the right moment.

Near Alexander, a compact figure held herself with the kind of stillness that suggested coiled violence rather than peace. Isabella's former rafting guide attire - the moisture-wicking polo with the company logo and quick-dry shorts - had been replaced by close-fitting dark clothing that allowed for quick movement while concealing whatever lay beneath. Her practical braid remained, but now it seemed less about keeping hair out of her face during river rapids and more about preparation for combat. She stood with the balanced poise of a practiced fighter, though no obvious weapons were visible on her person. There was something both familiar and wrong about the way she held herself - like a predator mimicking human movements. When she shifted position, her hand unconsciously moved to her side, as if reaching for something that wasn't visibly there. The compassionate confidence that had once marked her as a healer still lingered in her eyes, but it was now tempered with something darker - the look of someone who had learned that sometimes healing required destruction first.

The figure to Isabella's left stood unnaturally still, as if movement might betray what lay beneath his carefully maintained facade. Nathan's attempt at normal clothing couldn't quite hide the way his skin occasionally rippled, hinting at the grafted tissues beneath. When he did move, it was with an unsettling fluidity - multiple acquired reflexes fighting for control of each gesture. Patches of hardened crystal gleamed briefly through his skin in the starlight, like diamonds embedded in flesh. His frame, once lanky and unremarkable, now suggested something pieced together from stronger materials. The analytical gaze of a computer science major remained, but now it held a predatory edge, as if constantly calculating the structural weaknesses in everything around him. When he shifted his weight, muscles moved in ways human anatomy never intended, a symphony of supernatural grafts working in barely concealed harmony.

Time itself seemed to bend around one figure in the circle, reality rippling subtly in his wake. Daniel's once-dark hair had turned pure silver, falling past his shoulders in stark contrast to the deep blue and bronze of his robes. A century of studying temporal magic had left its mark - his face bore the weathered dignity of age, yet his movements carried an unsettling fluidity, as if he were experiencing multiple moments simultaneously. The simple programmer's slouch had been replaced by perfect posture that somehow seemed to occupy slightly more or less space than it should. His eyes, once focused on computer screens, now held the depth of galaxies, occasionally shifting focus to things no one else could see. When he moved, it was with deliberate grace, though sometimes his gestures left afterimages in the air, like echoes of movements he hadn't made yet. At his belt hung an object that hurt to look at directly - a puzzle box that seemed simultaneously tiny and vast, its geometries suggesting dimensions beyond normal space.

Among the gathered figures, one stood with a grace that somehow bridged organic and artificial. Liv's movements were precise but not mechanical, each gesture carrying the same natural confidence she'd had before, just filtered through enhanced capabilities. Her appearance was flawless but distinctly her own, as if someone had taken her former sorority sister polish and elevated it rather than replaced it. When she shifted position, her motions flowed with practiced elegance, maintaining her original personality's flair while operating through synthetic means. Her eyes, though still the same shade of brown they'd been before, now held both human warmth and digital clarity, processing the world around her at impossible speeds while missing none of its emotional resonance. Even her breathing, though no longer biologically necessary, maintained the natural rhythm of her former self - not a programmed simulation but a preserved habit. The confident social butterfly who had once ruled campus parties was still there, just operating through different means, her quick wit and empathy now enhanced rather than replaced by digital processing.

At the edge of the circle, a tall figure held herself with the rigid posture of someone trying to take up less space despite her height. Where Tori had once commanded attention with platinum blonde confidence, she now seemed to shrink from it, despite standing over six feet tall. Her skin held a pale blue sheen that caught starlight like polished ice, and her once-bleached hair now fell in metallic waves that shifted between silver and gold with each slight movement. Ruby-colored eyes, too precisely faceted to be natural, darted between the others before focusing on the ground. When she moved, it was with a predator's grace she seemed desperate to hide, her enhanced frame and subdural armor visible beneath clothing chosen for concealment rather than style. The former sorority queen's poise remained, but transformed - no longer about drawing eyes, but avoiding them. Only her hands, with their barely visible retractable claws, betrayed her tension as they clenched and unclenched at her sides.

The final figure in the circle stood a full seven feet tall, her vulpine features impossible to hide or disguise. Zoe's transformation had taken her far beyond human appearance - her elongated digitigrade legs ending in paw-like feet, her ears swept back in a fox-like curve, silky fur catching starlight along her arms and neck. A tail, perfect for balance, swayed behind her with unconscious grace as she shifted position. Her bartender's casual confidence had evolved into something more primal, every movement suggesting both power and precise control. When she lifted her head to scent the air, the motion was purely predatory, nothing human remaining in the gesture. Her enhanced senses were evident in the way she tracked every movement around her, ears swiveling to catch the slightest sound, nose twitching at traces of scent too faint for others to detect. Only her eyes, though changed in shape, still held a spark of her former self - the sharp intelligence of someone who had learned to read people across a bar, now adapted to reading prey.

No words were exchanged as the circle broke apart. Alexander moved first, his tactical awareness evident in every step as he oriented west. Hazel fell in smoothly behind him, her movements showing the same military precision, technical enhancements allowing her to match his pace exactly. Daniel's steps seemed to blur slightly, as if he were walking through multiple moments at once, his robes flowing with impossible grace. Isabella moved like a warrior monk, each motion controlled and purposeful, her feet placing precisely as if following kata steps written in memory and blood. Kyle hung back slightly, his movements hesitant and withdrawn, shoulders hunched as if expecting judgment from the very air around him. Zoe brought up the rear, her digitigrade legs forcing an odd, rolling gait that somehow remained predator-graceful, her height and vulpine nature making her loping stride seem both efficient and alien.

The remaining seven watched this first group's departure, their own alignments already forming without conscious thought.

The college group oriented themselves southwest, their formation less structured but heavy with unspoken tensions. Rose took point without hesitation, her movements betraying none of her former timidity - instead showing the confident stride of someone accustomed to leading research teams through dangerous territories. DeShawn moved with barely contained frustration, his military training bleeding through despite his attempts to affect a casual swagger, enhanced speed making even his deliberate slouch seem unnaturally precise.

Nathan's gait suggested internal conflict, organic grace warring with grafted reflexes as crystalline muscles shifted visibly beneath his skin. Behind him, Tori tried to make her towering frame smaller, each long-legged stride a study in self-conscious grace as she hunched slightly, attempting to minimize her height and alien coloring. Liv moved with mathematical precision, each step perfectly measured, her artificial body maintaining flawless balance while somehow preserving her original personality's characteristic gestures.

They spread out in an unconscious pattern - close enough to suggest their shared past, but with careful spaces between them marking their transformations. The group moved like a broken constellation, each member caught in their own orbit but still bound together by invisible forces.

River and Derek turned south with synchronized grace, no longer leader and follower but two primal forces moving in concert. River's bare feet pressed into the desert soil with deliberate intent, each step carrying the weight of connection rather than command. Occasionally, the sage brush would shift slightly in her wake, responding to forces that had nothing to do with wind. Her dreadlocks and rough-spun robes moved with subtle purpose, suggesting power held in careful check.

Derek walked beside her, his presence equally restrained but fundamentally different. The air around him behaved strangely - breezes seemed to skip around him like water around a stone in a stream. His gaunt height was emphasized by robes that caught unfelt winds, their movement suggesting awareness of atmospheric layers far above. Each stride carried him forward with an efficiency that seemed to deny earth's usual hold.

Together they carved a path southward, their powers distinct but complementary - her steps sure and grounded, his almost floating. Their matching expressions held the absolute conviction of those who had transcended human concerns for elemental truths. They moved through the scrubland like weather systems given human form, their influence subtle but undeniable, leaving only faint traces of their passage in the desert night.

The night settled back into its familiar rhythms as the three groups disappeared into the darkness. Crickets tentatively resumed their songs, their chirping spreading outward like ripples in a pond as natural order reasserted itself. A coyote's howl finally found its answer in the distance. The circle where they had appeared remained pressed into the scrubland soil, thirteen sets of tracks leading away from its circumference, but already the desert wind was beginning its patient work of erasure. Above, stars wheeled through their ancient patterns, indifferent to what had transpired beneath them. The empty stretch of Eastern Washington returned to its accustomed solitude, as if eager to forget the impossible moment when reality had bent and thirteen lost souls had found their way home.

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"Remi! Did you grab your allowance for lunch?"

Remi paused at the front door, backpack half-slung over his shoulder. His mother, Melinda Halistaad, hurried from the kitchen, a few crumpled bills in hand. Despite the early hour, she was already dressed for her day at the office, though her usually pristine appearance was slightly disheveled from the morning rush.

"Mom, I've got money on my account," Remi said, noticing the slight tremor in her hands—too much coffee again, probably from another late night of work. "You don't need to—"

"Just take it," she insisted, pressing the money into his palm. "In case you want something extra. Those portions in the cafeteria are never enough for growing boys."

"Mom..." Remi gently pulled away from her fussing. "I'm fine. Besides, you'll be late for your meeting."

"I know, I know." She absently smoothed his collar. "But you barely touched your dinner last night. Are you sure everything's okay at school? You seem... I don't know. Different lately."

"Everything's fine," Remi said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Just tired from staying up late playing D&D with Andrew."

Her eyes widened. "Oh! The quarterly review—" She glanced at her watch and grimaced. "We'll talk more later, okay? But text me when you get to school."

"Promise," Remi called over his shoulder, already heading down the front steps. His mother's worried gaze followed him until he turned the corner, and he could picture her standing in the doorway, probably still fidgeting with her coffee mug.

The walk to school was quiet, fallen leaves crunching under his feet as he made his way down the familiar streets. The air had that crisp October feel, hinting at the winter to come. By the time he reached his locker, Andrew was already waiting, practically bouncing with excitement to share details from last week's D&D session. He'd been going on about it for days, analyzing every roll and decision like it was a professional sports replay.

"You're not going to believe what I just figured out," Andrew burst out before Remi could even open his locker. "Remember when my paladin used divine smite on that demon lord?"

"Only because you've mentioned it about fifty times," Remi said, working his combination lock.

"Yeah, but listen—if I'd used my action surge first, I could have—"

"Gotten two attacks instead of one," Remi finished with him, managing a small smile. "And with the critical hit chance doubled—"

"I could have taken him out in one round!" Andrew's eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "I mean, who expects the celestial unicorn to show up right when—"

A sudden force slammed into Remi's shoulder from behind, driving him hard against the metal lockers. The impact rattled the doors and knocked the breath from his lungs. Shawn Baker's laughter echoed down the hallway, joined by his friend James Prescott's quieter but equally malicious chuckle.

"Nice reflexes, Halistaad," Shawn called out. "Almost as good as your lacrosse tryout."

The morning crowd of students parted around them like water around rocks, carefully averting their eyes from the unfolding scene.

"You okay?" Andrew whispered, helping Remi steady himself.

"Watch where you're going, Halistaad," Shawn sneered, towering over Remi with the easy confidence of someone who had never faced consequences for his actions. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt... again."

James stepped forward, his lacrosse letterman jacket a sharp contrast to Remi's worn hoodie. A smirk played across his features. "Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of what happened at tryouts, would we?"

"You know what's funny, James?" Shawn said, his voice carrying down the hall. "He actually thought he had a shot at making the team. Like Coach Stevens would want some nobody screwing up our championship lineup."

The memory hit Remi like a physical blow. Three weeks ago, on the lacrosse field, running the drills until his lungs burned. He'd outperformed half the returning players, even managed to score past their senior goalkeeper.

"Nice shot, Halistaad!" Coach Stevens had called out, before adding with a smirk, "But let's see how you handle some real defense. Shawn, James – show him what varsity-level checking feels like."

Then came the "special drill" - Shawn and James taking turns as defenders, checking him with increasingly brutal force while Coach Stevens just watched, arms crossed, that same amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Keep your stick up, Halistaad!" Shawn had taunted between hits. "What's wrong? Too rough for you?"

The last hit had sent Remi sprawling, his stick clattering across the turf. He could still hear the laughter, still feel the wet grass against his face as he pushed himself up.

"Sorry, Halistaad," Coach Stevens had drawled, not sounding sorry at all. "But we need players who can take a hit. Maybe try chess club?"

"What's wrong, Remi?" Shawn's voice pulled him back to the present. "Still sore about it? Maybe if you weren't such a pussy—"

"Shut up." The words escaped before Remi could stop them, surprising even himself.

Shawn's eyebrows shot up, then lowered dangerously. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said shut up." Remi's heart hammered in his chest, but something in him had snapped. "We both know I made those shots. We both know why I didn't make the team."

"Remi," Andrew warned quietly. "Don't."

James stepped closer, his shoulder brushing Shawn's. "Careful, Halistaad. You're starting to sound like you're accusing someone of something."

"Why not?" The words kept coming, like a dam breaking. "Everyone saw it. Everyone knows your dad's golf buddies run this school. Must be nice, having everything handed to you—"

Shawn moved faster than Remi expected, grabbing a fistful of his hoodie and slamming him back against the lockers. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, his already bruised shoulder screaming in protest. Around them, the hallway had gone deadly quiet, other students stopping to watch but keeping their distance, like vultures circling a kill.

"Listen carefully, you little shit," Shawn's voice was barely above a whisper, but his eyes burned with rage. "My father earned everything he has. I earned my spot on that team. The only thing you've earned is this reality check about where you belong in the food chain."

Andrew, seeing the hurt and anger in his friend's eyes, stepped forward. His voice shook slightly, but he held his ground. "Let him go, Shawn. You've made your point."

"Back off, nerd," James warned, moving to intercept Andrew. "This isn't about you."

"Actually, it kind of is," Andrew's words tumbled out faster now, pitched higher with adrenaline. "It's about all of us who have to deal with entitled jerks like you. It's not Remi's fault that your dad's golf buddy is the coach."

Shawn's grip on Remi's hoodie tightened. "Watch your mouth, nerd. Or do you want to end up like your loser friend here?"

The tension stretched like a rubber band about to snap. Remi could feel Shawn's knuckles digging into his chest, could smell the mint gum on his breath. One wrong move, one wrong word, and this would escalate beyond the usual posturing into something much worse.

"Is there a problem here?" Mr. Phillips's voice cut through the tension like a knife. The chemistry teacher stood at the end of the hallway, his expression making it clear he knew exactly what kind of problem this was.

Shawn held Remi's gaze for one more second before releasing him with a casual shove. "No problem, sir," he said, his voice dripping with insincere politeness. "Just having a friendly chat with Halistaad here about sports."

"Well, chat time's over," Mr. Phillips said. "Get to class, all of you."

As they turned away, James leaned in close to Remi's ear. "This isn't over, Halistaad. You want to run your mouth? Fine. But remember - you'll never be good enough. Never."

The bell rang again, warning stragglers to hurry to class. Remi and Andrew walked in silence until they were well clear of the lockers, turning down the science wing where the crowds were thinner.

"You know they're going to make you pay for that," Andrew said finally, his voice low. "Shawn doesn't let stuff go."

Remi leaned against the wall, letting out a shaky breath. Now that the adrenaline was fading, his hands wouldn't stop trembling. "Yeah, well, maybe it's worth it. I'm tired of pretending they're not complete assholes."

"Did you really score on their goalkeeper?" Andrew asked, adjusting his backpack. "During tryouts?"

"Twice." Remi touched his shoulder gingerly. "Fat lot of good it did me."

"Man, that's messed up." Andrew glanced back the way they'd come. "You should report them or something. What they did during tryouts—that wasn't normal checking. That was assault."

Remi gave a bitter laugh. "Report them to who? Coach Stevens? The principal? Shawn's dad probably has them on speed dial." He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, not caring about being late to class. "You know what the worst part is? My mom keeps asking what's wrong, why I'm not eating, why I seem 'different.' But I can't tell her. She'd try to fix it, and that would just make everything worse."

Andrew sat down next to him, their shoulders touching. "Remember in D&D last week, when my paladin was surrounded by those demon cultists?"

"Really? You're bringing up D&D now?"

"Just... hear me out. Remember what you told me? About how sometimes the best move isn't fighting or running, but finding another way to change the game?"

Remi turned to look at his friend. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know exactly," Andrew admitted. "But there's got to be something. Some way to beat them at their own game, or maybe a different game entirely." He pulled his battered notebook from his backpack and flipped it open to reveal a rough sketch of Shawn being trampled by a celestial unicorn. "For now, though, we can at least imagine them getting what they deserve."

Despite everything, Remi felt a small smile tugging at his lips. "Did you seriously draw that during Benson's history lecture?"

"Hey, it was either this or actually pay attention to the Civil War unit." Andrew grinned, then grew serious again. "We'll figure something out, Remi. They can't win forever."

The final bell rang, marking them officially late for class. But for a moment longer, they sat there in the empty hallway, looking at Andrew's ridiculous drawing and letting themselves believe that maybe, just maybe, things could change.

The first two periods passed in a blur of nervous tension. Every time the bell rang, Remi found himself scanning the hallways, expecting Shawn or one of his cronies to appear. By the time third period arrived, his nerves were frayed.

When they finally made it to AP Calculus, slipping into their seats under Mrs. Caldwin's disapproving stare, Remi noticed Eddie Enfield watching him with predatory interest. The stocky athlete didn't share Shawn's fluid grace, but he made up for it with sheer muscle and a nasty streak that manifested in moments like these.

Third period usually dragged, but today it felt like time had stopped entirely. Mrs. Caldwin's voice droned on about derivatives, her dry explanations punctuated by the rhythmic squeak of her marker against the whiteboard. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, creating a soporific effect that made Remi's eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute.

He shifted in his seat, trying to stay alert, but the movement sent a dull throb through his shoulder where Shawn had checked him. The pain should have kept him awake, but instead it just added to his exhaustion. The numbers on the board began to blur together, Mrs. Caldwin's neat handwriting morphing into meaningless squiggles.

"...and so if we take the limit as x approaches infinity..."

Remi's head nodded forward, then jerked back up. He blinked hard, trying to focus on his notebook where he'd managed to scrawl half an equation before his notes devolved into unconscious scribbles. The bruise would fade, but the memory would linger, joining all the others that made up his daily life at school.

"Mr. Halistaad?" Mrs. Caldwin's voice cut through his fog. "Perhaps you'd like to solve this problem for the class?"

Remi straightened in his chair, his cheeks burning as several students turned to look at him. The equation on the board swam before his eyes, mocking him. From two rows over, Eddie Enfield's distinctive grunt-laugh broke the silence.

"I... uh..." He squinted at the board, trying to make sense of the symbols that seemed to dance and shift before him.

Mrs. Caldwin sighed, that particular sigh teachers reserve for students they've given up on. "Pay attention, Mr. Halistaad. This will be on the test." She turned back to the board, already moving on to the next example.

Remi slumped in his seat, his shoulder throbbing in time with his embarrassment. He could feel Eddie's eyes on him, probably mentally taking notes to report back to Shawn later. Even when the ringleader wasn't around, his influence spread through his network of toadies and hangers-on, each eager to prove their loyalty through someone else's humiliation.

By lunch period, the morning's confrontation had already become just another story in the school's gossip mill. Remi could feel the occasional glances from other students as he made his way through the cafeteria line, but he kept his eyes forward, focused on getting through another day. Another hour. Another minute.

Remi sat alone at his usual table in the far corner of the cafeteria, picking at the dubious mystery meat on his tray. The sound of Shawn's laughter carried across the room from the athletes' table, where the lacrosse team held court like medieval nobles. He tried to focus on his food, but his mother's words from that morning kept echoing in his head: "You seem... different lately."

The cafeteria doors swung open, and Tawnee from his chemistry class walked in with a group of friends. She caught his eye for a moment and gave a small wave before being swept along to another table. Remi managed a weak wave back, his face warming slightly. They'd been lab partners last semester, and she'd always been nice to him—one of the few people who seemed immune to the social hierarchy that ruled their school.

"Mind if I sit?" Andrew appeared with his brown paper lunch bag, not waiting for an answer before dropping into the seat across from Remi. He pulled out a slightly squashed sandwich and began unwrapping it with methodical precision. "So I've been thinking about what happened this morning."

"Can we not?" Remi pushed his tray away, his appetite completely gone now. "I'd rather just forget about it."

"No, listen," Andrew leaned forward, lowering his voice. "What if we—"

He was cut off by a commotion near the lunch line. Eddie Enfield had cornered a freshman, making a show of "accidentally" knocking the younger student's tray to the ground. The cafeteria monitors were conveniently looking the other way, as they always did when certain students were involved.

"Oops," Eddie's voice carried across the room. "Better watch where you're going, little man."

Remi's hands clenched into fists under the table. The freshman—he thought the kid's name might be Mark—scrambled to clean up the mess while Eddie stood over him, grinning. From the athletes' table, Shawn and James watched with obvious amusement.

"Don't," Andrew warned, seeing the look in Remi's eyes. "It's not worth it."

"It's never worth it, right?" Remi's voice came out bitter. "Just keep your head down, don't make waves, let them do whatever they want..."

"That's not what I meant." Andrew sighed, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "But getting yourself suspended isn't going to help anyone."

Before Remi could respond, the bell signaled the end of lunch period. Students began filing out of the cafeteria, carefully stepping around Mark, who was still trying to clean up his spilled lunch. As Remi walked past, he pulled a few dollars from his pocket—the money his mother had insisted he take that morning—and dropped them on the floor next to the younger student.

"For the lunch," he muttered, not making eye contact. He hurried away before Mark could respond, but not before catching the grateful look in the freshman's eyes.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, each hour dragging until finally the dismissal bell rang. Remi gathered his things quickly, hoping to avoid any further confrontations. But as he headed for his locker, he spotted Eddie Enfield waiting near the exit, clearly watching for someone. Their eyes met briefly, and Eddie's face split into a predatory grin.

Not today. Remi turned sharply, taking the long way around through the science wing. It would mean a detour on his walk home, but right now, that seemed like a small price to pay.

As he finally stepped out into the autumn afternoon, leaves crunching under his feet, Remi couldn't shake the feeling that something had to change. He couldn't keep living like this, walking on eggshells in his own school, dreading each day before it even began.

His phone buzzed—a text from his mom asking if he was on his way home. He typed out a quick "yes" before pocketing the phone again. She would want to talk when he got home, would ask about his day, would try to figure out what was wrong. And he would lie, like always, because the truth would only worry her more.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the sidewalk as Remi walked, his breath visible in the cooling air. The familiar route home felt longer than usual, each step carrying the weight of the day's events. He'd stood up to Shawn, finally said what everyone knew but no one dared to speak aloud. But what had it really changed?

Tomorrow would be worse. He knew that with a certainty that settled in his stomach like lead. Shawn and his friends would make sure of it. The small act of defiance that had felt so righteous in the moment now seemed foolish, dangerous.

And yet...

Remi paused at the corner where his street met the main road. In the distance, a train whistle echoed mournfully, and somewhere overhead, a crow called out with a harsh, defiant cry. The sound resonated with something deep inside him—a refusal to accept things as they were, a desperate need for change.

He just didn't know what that change would look like. Not yet.

But he would figure it out. He had to.

[End of Chapter 2]

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Remi stood outside the pool office, his hand hovering uncertainly over the door handle. The hallway smelled of chlorine and disappointment—the latter being a scent he'd become all too familiar with after the recent football and lacrosse tryouts. A small plaque beside the door read "Coach Sarah Ramirez - Aquatics Director," with a newer addition underneath: "Synchronized Swimming Program Director."

Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

"Come in!" called a voice from inside.

Coach Ramirez sat behind a desk cluttered with training schedules and competition regulations. She was younger than Remi expected, probably in her early thirties, with the lean build of a former competitive swimmer and bright, analytical eyes that seemed to evaluate everything they saw.

"Remi Halistaad?" She glanced at the paperwork in front of her. "I have to admit, you're not what I expected when I saw your application."

"Is that... bad?" Remi shifted uncomfortably.

"Not at all." She leaned back in her chair. "Just unexpected. Most boys your age wouldn't consider synchronized swimming. What brought you here?"

Remi considered lying, making up some story about a lifelong passion for aquatics. Instead, he opted for honesty. "I didn't make the other teams. Coach Baker said I wasn't... the right fit for football or lacrosse."

"Ah, Steven Baker." Something flickered across Coach Martinez's face—disapproval, maybe? "Well, his loss might be our gain. Do you have any swimming experience?"

"I've been swimming since I was little. Nothing competitive, but I'm comfortable in the water."

Coach Martinez nodded, making a note on her clipboard. "This program is something new for the school. We're the first co-ed synchronized swimming team at our school. A few other schools in the district have already started programs, but we're still going to face some... unique challenges." She fixed him with a steady gaze. "Are you prepared for that?"

"You mean the jokes?" Remi met her eyes. "I figured there would be some."

"More than some. This isn't going to be easy, Remi. Synchronized swimming requires incredible strength, flexibility, and coordination. Plus, you'll be working closely with your teammates in a way that's different from any other sport. We need people who can handle both the physical demands and the social pressure."

She stood up. "Go get changed and meet me at the pool. I want to see what you can do."

Remi headed to the locker room, changing into his plain black swim jammers. They weren't team regulation, but they'd have to do for now. After storing his belongings in a locker, he made his way to the natatorium.

Several students were already in the pool when he entered, the afternoon sun streaming through the high windows and dancing on the water's surface. The pool itself was Olympic-sized, with dedicated lanes for the regular swim team on one side and a deeper section where a few students were practicing basic floating formations. Tawnee was among them, executing a perfect back layout while another girl spotted her.

"Hit the showers first," Coach Ramirez instructed, pointing to the pre-pool rinse station. "It's mandatory before entering the pool."

After a quick rinse, Remi approached the pool's edge, water dripping from his hair.

"Alright," Coach Ramirez said, "show me your basic swimming form "Four lengths: freestyle, backstroke, breaststroke, and butterfly if you know it."

Remi slipped into the water, grateful he'd brought his swim gear just in case. The water was cool and welcoming as he began his laps. He wasn't the fastest swimmer, but his form was decent—years of summer swimming had at least taught him the basics.

After the laps, Coach Martinez had him demonstrate various treading water techniques, testing his endurance and stability. By the time she called him over to the pool's edge, his muscles were burning, but he felt surprisingly good.

"Not bad," she said, making more notes. "Your upper body strength needs work, and your leg extensions could be cleaner, but there's potential. Now, the important question: why should I put you on this team?"

Remi grabbed the pool's edge, treading water as he thought about his answer. "Honestly? Because I'll work harder than anyone else. I know I'm not the best athlete, but this feels... different. Like maybe I could be part of something new, something important."

Coach Martinez studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded. "Practice starts in fifteen minutes. The team's gathering for their first session today. Consider this your qualifying trial—I want to see how you mesh with the others."

Relief and anxiety flooded through Remi in equal measure. "Thank you, Coach."

"Don't thank me yet," she warned, though there was a hint of a smile on her face. "Get changed and be back here in ten minutes. Let's see if you can keep up."

As other students started to arrive, Remi caught a glimpse of Tawnee Williams, her presence both exciting and nerve-wracking. He'd shared classes with her before but had never really talked to her—she always seemed too intimidating, too focused, too... everything.

This was his chance to prove himself, to find his place. As he waited by the pool's edge in his plain black jammers, Remi tried to quiet the nervous energy in his stomach. Whatever happened next, at least it would be on his own terms.

The next two hours would be his chance to prove himself. As the rest of the team began filtering onto the pool deck, Coach Ramirez called everyone together.

"Alright, team! Circle up!" She waited as twelve students gathered around, all in various states of pre-pool preparation. Remi noticed two other guys among the predominantly female group - a stocky redhead and a taller boy with close-cropped dark hair. They both gave him encouraging nods.

"Before we start today's practice, I'd like to introduce a potential new member. This is Remi Halistaad, and he'll be trying out with us today." Coach Ramirez's smile widened slightly. "If he makes the cut, he'll be our third male team member - a milestone for our program."

The two guys exchanged a fist bump at this announcement, and several of the girls nodded approvingly. Tawnee offered a small, encouraging smile from across the circle. Remi felt some of his nervousness ease - clearly, they wanted this to work as much as he did.

"Now, everyone through the showers and into the pool. We're starting with a twenty-minute warm-up. Standard drills - rotations between freestyle, breast, and back. Focus on form over speed."

The warm-up alone was more intense than Remi expected. Coach Ramirez had them switching strokes every four laps, maintaining strict attention to technique. By the time they finished, his muscles were already feeling the strain.

"Good work," Coach Ramirez called out. "Now, pair up. We're working on basic support positions today."

Before Remi could look around awkwardly for a partner, Tawnee swam over to him. "Want to work together? I can show you the basics."

"Thanks," he managed, trying not to sound too relieved.

The next hour proved to be both fascinating and challenging. Tawnee demonstrated how to properly support a partner in various positions, explaining the importance of stable base positions and synchronized breathing. It was nothing like regular swimming - every movement had to be precisely controlled, and maintaining the right position while treading water was exhaustingly difficult.

"Keep your core tight," Tawnee instructed as Remi attempted to support her in a basic back layout. "You need to be solid as a rock or we'll both go under."

His arms trembled with the effort, but he managed to hold the position for the required count. When they switched roles, he gained a new appreciation for the trust required between partners. Floating on his back, depending on someone else to keep him stable, was more unnerving than he'd expected.

The final thirty minutes were devoted to learning a basic routine sequence. Coach Ramirez had them work in groups of four, practicing simple movements in unison. Remi found himself grouped with Tawnee and two other students - a tall girl named Sarah and a stocky boy called Marcus who, like Remi, was new to the sport.

"Remember," Coach Ramirez called out as they attempted to coordinate a simple floating pattern, "synchronization is key. You need to feel your teammates' movements, anticipate their timing. This isn't just about doing the moves - it's about doing them as one unit."

By the time practice ended, Remi was exhausted in ways he'd never experienced before. Every muscle ached, and he'd swallowed more pool water than he cared to admit. But there was also a sense of accomplishment. He'd made it through the full two hours, and while he certainly hadn't mastered anything, he hadn't completely failed either.

As they climbed out of the pool, Coach Ramirez pulled him aside. "Not bad for a first day, Halistaad. You've got a lot to learn, but I saw good things out there. Team suits are ordered through the athletics office. Get sized this week - you'll need it for Thursday's practice."

Remi's heart leapt. "You mean...?"

"Welcome to the team." She handed him a folder. "Here's the practice schedule and team regulations. Don't make me regret this decision."

Walking to the locker room, Remi caught Tawnee's eye. She gave him a thumbs up and a grin that seemed to say "told you so." His muscles might be screaming, but Remi couldn't keep the smile off his face. Maybe this wasn't where he'd expected to end up, but somehow, it felt right.

The hot shower helped ease some of the ache in his muscles, though Remi had a feeling he'd be feeling this practice for days to come. As he finished changing back into his jeans and t-shirt, the other two guys from the team approached him.

"Hey, welcome aboard," the redhead said, extending his hand. "I'm Dave, and this is Marcus. Gotta say, we're stoked to have another guy join the team."

"Thanks," Remi replied, shaking both their hands. "I wasn't sure what to expect, but that was... intense."

Marcus laughed. "Just wait until we start the actual routines. But hey, at least we can spot each other during practice now. Having just two guys made some of the partner work tricky."

"You heading out?" Dave asked, shouldering his backpack. "We usually grab smoothies at The Junction after practice. Sort of a team tradition. You should join us."

Before Remi could respond, they heard the girls calling from outside the locker room. "Hurry up in there! We're starving!"

"Coming!" Marcus called back, then turned to Remi. "Seriously, you should come. First smoothie's on me to celebrate getting our third guy."

The invitation felt genuine, and Remi found himself nodding. "Yeah, okay. Just let me text my mom so she knows I'll be late."

As they exited the locker room, they found most of the team waiting, including Tawnee, who was busy towel-drying her thick hair. She brightened when she saw Remi had joined them.

"Oh good, you're coming! You have to try their protein berry blast - it's perfect after practice."

The enthusiastic welcome from his new teammates felt surreal after the disappointment of his previous sports tryouts. As they headed toward The Junction, their voices echoing in the hallway, Remi felt something he hadn't expected - a sense of belonging. Sure, his muscles were screaming, and he had more chlorine in his system than he cared to think about, but he'd found his team.

And somehow, that made everything worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was quiet when Remi finally made it home, the setting sun casting long shadows through the front windows. His muscles protested every step up to the front door, but the post-practice smoothie and team hangout had been worth it. The porch light flickered on automatically as he dug for his keys, illuminating a small collection of Amazon packages stacked neatly by the door - probably more of Rachel's endless online shopping.

"Is that you, Remi?" His fourteen-year-old sister's voice carried down from upstairs before he'd even closed the door. A moment later, she appeared at the top of the stairs, still in her school clothes but with her long dark hair now pulled up in a messy bun. "Mom's been wondering where you were. You're late."

"I texted her," Remi said, dropping his swim bag by the stairs. The chlorine smell wafted up, making Rachel wrinkle her nose.

"Ugh, what died in your bag?" She descended the stairs, then paused halfway down, sniffing dramatically. "Wait, why do you smell like a pool?" Her eyes narrowed with sudden interest. "Did you actually join the swim team?"

"Synchronized swimming," Remi corrected, heading for the kitchen. He needed water - despite the smoothie, he felt dehydrated from all the pool time. The kitchen was warm and smelled like marinara sauce - his mom had obviously started dinner prep before heading to her evening yoga class.

Rachel followed, a gleeful expression spreading across her face. "Wait, seriously? Like, with the nose clips and the sparkly swimsuits?" She burst into giggles, nearly dropping her phone. "Oh my god, this is amazing. Did you have to wear a flower swim cap? Please tell me there are flower swim caps."

"That's competitive synchronized swimming, and no." Remi filled a large glass with water, then thought better of it and grabbed the whole Brita pitcher. "It's just the school team. Co-ed."

"There are other guys doing it?" Rachel hopped onto one of the kitchen stools, clearly settling in for a full interrogation. She propped her elbows on the granite countertop, resting her chin in her hands. "Or are you the only one dumb enough to sign up? Oh god, please tell me you're the only guy. That would be hilarious."

"There are three of us now, actually." Remi couldn't keep the pride out of his voice as he finished his first glass. "Coach says it's a milestone for the program."

Something in his tone made Rachel pause. She studied him for a moment, her teasing smile fading into something more genuine. "You actually like it, don't you? Like, for real?"

"Yeah," Remi admitted, starting on his second glass of water. He leaned against the counter, feeling the good kind of tired in his muscles. "It's... different. Hard, but in a good way. You should've seen some of the moves we were learning today."

"Huh." Rachel seemed to be processing this. She absently scrolled through her phone, but her attention was still on him. "Well, I still think it's hilarious, and I'm definitely telling all my friends." She grinned mischievously. "But I guess it's kind of cool too. In a totally weird way. At least it's not as boring as football."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Remi said dryly, but he was smiling.

"So who else is on the team?" Rachel's eyes lit up with fresh interest. "Any cute girls? There have to be cute girls in synchronized swimming."

Remi felt his face warm slightly, thinking of Tawnee. "It's not like that. We're just teammates."

"Oh my god, there is someone!" Rachel practically bounced in her seat. "Look at your face! Who is it? Do I know her? Is she in my grade?"

"Don't you have homework to do or something?"

"Nope. This is way more interesting." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Wait, isn't Tawnee Williams on the swim team? The one you've had a crush on since like forever?"

"I have not had a crush on her since forever," Remi protested, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Please, you practically walk into walls whenever she's around." Rachel's grin widened. "Oh my god, this is perfect. You joined synchronized swimming to get close to her, didn't you?"

"That's not... I didn't..." Remi fumbled for words.

"Does Dad know yet?" Rachel asked, abruptly changing topics in that way she had of using conversational whiplash to her advantage.

The question hung in the air. Remi set his glass down, suddenly very interested in refilling it. "Mom knows. She signed the permission form. Dad... I'll tell him when it comes up."

Rachel nodded, understanding perfectly. Their father's traditional views on sports - especially men's sports - were well known in the household. "Want me to be there when you do? I can run interference. You know, do that thing where I start talking about my period and he gets all uncomfortable and leaves the room."

"Maybe." Remi managed a small smile. Rachel might be a pain sometimes, but she had his back when it counted. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She hopped off the stool, stretching dramatically. "Seriously though, if you ever have to wear one of those sparkly suits, I want pictures. Like, so many pictures. I'm talking full photo shoot, maybe even video. For posterity."

"Get out of here," Remi laughed, tossing a dish towel at her.

Rachel dodged it easily, dancing toward the doorway. "Make me, water ballet boy! Oh! That's your new nickname. I'm telling everyone to call you that now."

"You're the worst," Remi called after her, but there was no heat in it.

"Love you too, big bro!" Her laughter echoed up the stairs, followed by the sound of her bedroom door closing and music starting to pulse through the ceiling.

Remi shook his head, finally allowing himself to sink into one of the kitchen chairs. His muscles were definitely going to hate him tomorrow, but somehow, it didn't matter. Rachel's teasing felt different from what he might face at school. There was acceptance buried in it, wrapped in the comfortable layers of sibling rivalry. Besides, he had a feeling his new teammates would have his back, just like Rachel did at home.

Now he just had to figure out how to tell his dad. But that was tomorrow's problem. For now, he had to figure out how to make it up the stairs to shower before dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remi slouched in his computer chair, the soft glow of the monitor illuminating his face in the darkened bedroom. He'd been browsing his favorite gaming forum for hours, deep in a heated discussion about the latest patch notes for Final Fantasy XIV. The debate over tank balance changes had consumed most of his evening, with Remi passionately defending the Dark Knight's new rotation against a barrage of complaints.

A half-eaten sandwich sat forgotten on a plate beside his keyboard as he scrolled through the responses. He was about to reply to another post about optimal raid compositions when a new thread in the off-topic section caught his eye. Someone had started a discussion about gender identity and personal expression in gaming avatars, and the responses were already becoming heated. What had begun as a simple question about character customization options had quickly evolved into something more profound.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he read the latest response, a deliberately provocative post claiming that identity was purely biological, fixed and immutable. The argument was familiar, but something about its dismissive tone made Remi's jaw clench.

"That's not how it works," he muttered, beginning to type. "Identity isn't just about biology. It's about who we are inside, how we understand ourselves." He paused, carefully choosing his next words. "When someone tells you who they are, the respectful thing to do is listen and accept that truth."

The response came quickly, dripping with sarcasm: "Oh, so I can just decide I'm whatever I want to be? A cat? A dragon? Where do you draw the line?"

Remi felt his face flush with frustration. These weren't new arguments—he'd seen them repeated countless times across different platforms, always presented as if they were clever gotchas rather than tired stereotypes. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay focused on the actual discussion rather than getting baited into an emotional response.

"It's not about 'deciding' to be something random," he wrote back. "It's about recognizing and accepting who you already are. Someone's identity isn't up for debate or public vote. It's deeply personal, and attacking people for being honest about themselves only causes harm."

The thread erupted with responses. Some supported his position, while others doubled down on biological determinism. One particularly aggressive user started spamming the thread with pseudoscientific claims and personal attacks.

A notification popped up—someone had sent him a private message. "Why do you care so much about this?" the message read. "Are you trans or something? Is that why you're getting so defensive?"

Remi's hands clenched into fists. "No," he typed back firmly. "I'm not trans. I just believe in treating people with basic respect and dignity. You don't have to be part of a group to stand up for what's right."

He minimized the private message window, returning to the main thread. The discussion had devolved further, with multiple users now questioning his motives and making increasingly personal insinuations. One comment in particular made his stomach turn: "Sounds like someone's in denial. Better figure yourself out before trying to tell others how to live."

"This isn't about me," Remi muttered through gritted teeth, even as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "This is about basic human decency. About recognizing that everyone deserves to be treated with respect, to be accepted for who they are without having to justify their existence to strangers on the internet."

But the trolls had found their angle of attack, shifting from the broader discussion to focus on Remi personally. Each new notification brought another pointed comment or leading question about his own identity.

"What are you trying to prove?"

"Why are you really defending this?"

"Just admit what this is really about."

Remi's chest felt tight, his breathing shallow. He knew he should step away from the computer, take a break and let the thread die down. But something kept him there, compelled him to keep engaging, to keep pushing back against the tide of hostility and ignorance.

"You don't know me," he wrote, his typing becoming more aggressive. "You don't know anything about me. This isn't about my identity—it's about standing up for what's right. About not letting bullies and bigots make other people feel worthless just because they don't fit into some narrow definition of 'normal.'"

The moment he hit send, he knew he'd revealed too much emotion, given the trolls exactly what they wanted. The responses were immediate and merciless, a flood of mock-sympathetic comments and armchair psychoanalysis.

"Touched a nerve, did we?"

"Sounds like someone's projecting."

"Classic case of denial right here."

Remi pushed back from his desk, his chair rolling across the carpet until it hit his bed. His heart was racing, face burning with a mixture of anger and something else—something he couldn't or wouldn't name. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to steady his breathing.

"This is stupid," he said aloud to his empty room. "They're just trying to get a reaction. Don't let them get to you."

But they had gotten to him, hadn't they? Not because their accusations were true—he knew who he was, regardless of what some random internet trolls might think. No, what really got to him was the fundamental unfairness of it all. The way they'd twisted his attempt to defend others into an attack on him personally. The way they'd tried to invalidate his arguments by questioning his motives rather than engaging with his actual points.

His computer chimed again—another private message. For a moment, he considered just shutting everything down, walking away and trying to forget the whole thing. But some stubborn part of him wouldn't let it go. He leaned forward and clicked the notification.

"Hey," the message read. "Just wanted to say thanks for speaking up in that thread. It means a lot when people who aren't directly affected still take the time to defend us. Don't let the trolls get you down."

Remi felt something in his chest loosen slightly. He took a deep breath, then typed back a simple "Thanks. That means a lot."

Turning back to the main thread, he saw that moderators had finally stepped in, deleting the most inflammatory comments and issuing warnings. The discussion was effectively over, but its effects lingered. Remi's hands were still shaking slightly as he closed his browser.

He stood up, stretching muscles that had grown tense from hours of sitting hunched over his keyboard. The digital clock on his nightstand showed 8:47 PM—still early enough to work off some of this nervous energy. His hands were still trembling slightly from the adrenaline of the online confrontation, his mind racing with unspoken arguments and rebuttals.

Remi's eyes fell on his carefully organized manga collection, particularly the latest volumes of "Record of Lodoss War" he'd been saving for a special occasion. With his muscles still aching from yesterday's intense synchro practice, a comfort reading session seemed perfect. He grabbed his favorite volume and headed downstairs. He needed a change of environment, somewhere away from the computer and its endless arguments. The familiar couch in the living room had always been his refuge when things got too intense, a place where he could lose himself in fantasy worlds far removed from real-world drama.

Setting up his favorite reading spot, Remi arranged the cushions just the way he liked them. His beat-up 3DS sat on the side table—he could switch to grinding levels in Monster Hunter later if the manga wasn't enough distraction.

Remi settled into his favorite corner of the couch, the familiar weight of the manga in his hands. The world of Lodoss had always been his escape—a place where heroes could be heroes regardless of their origins, where identity was something you forged through your actions rather than something others imposed upon you.

He was halfway through a favorite chapter when Rachel wandered in, probably drawn by the unusually quiet living room. She peered over his shoulder at the manga spread across his lap.

"That elf character looks cool," she said, pointing to Deedlit. "What's she doing?"

For a moment, Remi considered brushing her off, still raw from the evening's online conflicts. But maybe this was what he needed—a reminder that sometimes the simplest connections were the most important.

"Pull up a chair," he said, shifting to make room. "It's kind of a long story, but it's pretty awesome. See, there's this whole world called Lodoss..."

As he explained the story to Rachel, pointing out his favorite panels and describing the characters' adventures, Remi felt the last of his tension melting away. The digital arguments that had seemed so crucial just hours ago faded into perspective against the simple pleasure of sharing something he loved with his sister.

Later, as he headed up to bed, Remi felt more settled in his own skin than he had all evening. Maybe that's who he really was—someone who could stand up for what he believed in online, but who also knew when to step back and find comfort in the things and people that grounded him. Someone who could navigate both digital debates and real-world connections, finding balance between fighting for others and taking care of himself.

Tomorrow, he would probably log back on, maybe even return to that thread. Because the issues mattered, the people behind the screens mattered. But now he better understood the importance of balance—of knowing when to engage and when to retreat into the worlds of fantasy that had always given him strength.

For now, though, he was content. The evening had helped him find his center again, reminding him that identity wasn't just something debated in forums—it was something lived, something shared in quiet moments with family, something explored through stories both read and told. As he got ready for bed, some questions still lingered at the edges of his consciousness, waiting for another day to be explored, but they no longer seemed quite so urgent or overwhelming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The manga slipped from Remi's hands as he dozed off on the couch, the familiar weight of Record of Lodoss War settling across his chest like armor. The living room dissolved around him, reforming into the familiar corridors of his high school—but not quite as he knew it. Torches flickered in iron sconces along stone walls where lockers should have been, and the linoleum floors had transformed into worn flagstones polished by centuries of feet.

Remi found himself clad in gleaming plate armor, a shield emblazoned with a swimming dragon on his left arm and a longsword in his right hand. The weight felt natural, as if he'd trained with them for years. His synchro team swimsuit had become a tabard in the school colors, flowing over the armor with an impossible lightness.

The sound of shuffling feet and guttural voices echoed from around the corner. Remi pressed himself against the wall, his armor somehow silent despite its bulk. A patrol of goblins passed by—wearing letterman jackets over their leather armor. They carried crude weapons: baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire, lacrosse sticks sharpened into spears, and field hockey sticks weighted with chunks of metal.

"The Commander wants the entire school searched," one goblin growled, its voice uncomfortably familiar. "No one defies the authority of Lord Shawn."

Remi's grip tightened on his sword. Even in dreams, Shawn was throwing his weight around. But the Shawn in this world wasn't just another entitled jock—he was something far more dangerous.

Moving carefully despite his armor, Remi followed the patrol at a distance. The school's layout remained mostly familiar, but doorways had become arches, and classrooms had transformed into chambers filled with strange apparatus. The cafeteria had become a great hall, its tables now rough-hewn wood marked with decades of knife scars and spilled mead.

There, seated on a throne made from welded-together sports equipment, sat the Commander himself. Shawn had become a massive bugbear, his letterman jacket stretched over bristling fur and rippling muscles. His already impressive height had grown to nearly eight feet, and wickedly sharp claws drummed against the arm of his throne. A crown fashioned from twisted baseball bats and football helmets sat askew on his head.

At the base of the throne, bound in chains that clinked with each movement, sat Andrew. His wizard's robes had been replaced with what looked like a grotesque parody of a fantasy MMORPG costume—the kind of impractical "armor" that he always complained about in their gaming sessions. A length of chain connected to the Commander's throne kept him close, like some kind of trophy. A crude iron collar prevented him from casting spells, but his eyes still burned with defiance as he glared up at his captor. The scene struck Remi as absurdly similar to their last D&D session, where Andrew's character had been captured by a dragon—except this time, Andrew was living it.

The whole setup was clearly meant to humiliate, to turn Andrew's love of fantasy games and proper character builds into a joke. The Commander occasionally yanked on the chain, clearly enjoying his position of power over the captured spellcaster. It was exactly the kind of thing that would make Andrew furious—being forced into a role that made a mockery of everything he loved about proper game mechanics.

"Report!" the bugbear Commander bellowed, his voice still carrying traces of Shawn's usual arrogance, one massive paw resting possessively on Andrew's shoulder.

"The swimming pools have been drained, sir," a hobgoblin wearing a coach's whistle reported. "No one will be practicing their synchronized routines there anymore."

Andrew struggled against his bonds. "You can't just change the rules whenever you want, Shawn! This isn't how the game is played!"

The Commander yanked on the chain, silencing him. "The game is played however I say it's played. Your little rulebook can't help you now."

The Commander's laugh echoed through the hall. "Excellent. Let's see how they like being forced out of their element. Soon they'll learn that only the strong deserve a place in this school."

Remi felt his paladin's training surge through him—a righteous anger at the abuse of power, a desire to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. This wasn't just about pool access or team sports anymore. This was about standing up to tyranny itself.

He stepped out from behind a pillar, his armor catching the torchlight. "I challenge you, Commander."

The entire hall fell silent. Goblins and hobgoblins turned to stare, some reaching for weapons while others backed away from the confrontation. The bugbear Commander rose from his throne, his full height impressive even from across the room.

"Well, well," Shawn's voice rumbled through the bugbear's fanged maw. "If it isn't the little swimmer who thinks he can play at being a warrior. Do you really think you can stand against me alone?"

"He's not alone."

The voice came from behind Remi. He turned to see Tawnee from the swim team, but she'd been transformed as well. Clad in the shimmering robes of a water elementalist, she held a staff that seemed to flow like liquid crystal. Johnny emerged from the shadows, his rogue's garb making him nearly invisible in the darkness.

"I'll keep them busy," Johnny whispered, nodding toward Andrew. "You get him free. Without our wizard, we don't stand a chance."

The Commander's eyes narrowed. "Kill them all!"

The battle erupted in chaos. Goblins swarmed forward with their jury-rigged weapons while hobgoblin lieutenants barked orders. Remi's sword moved with a life of its own, parrying attacks and striking back with precision. Tawnee's magic turned the spilled drinks on the floor into whips of water that tripped and confused their enemies. Andrew's spells lit up the darkness while Johnny seemed to dance between shadows, appearing where least expected.

But the Commander hadn't moved from his throne. He watched the battle with calculating eyes, waiting for his moment. When Remi finally fought his way through to face him, the bugbear stood with deliberate slowness.

"You think this changes anything?" the Commander growled. "You think standing up to me here makes you strong?"

"This isn't about being strong," Remi answered, his voice carrying the divine authority of his paladin oath. "This is about being right."

The bugbear's claws extended as he dropped into a fighting stance. "Then let's see how far 'right' gets you against real power."

Their clash shook the great hall. While Johnny's diversions and Tawnee's water magic kept the goblin forces at bay, Remi fought his way toward the throne. Each step brought him closer to Andrew, who had managed to inch toward his spellbook despite his chains.

The Commander's raw strength met Remi's skilled defense, neither able to gain a clear advantage. Each blow from those massive claws threatened to shatter Remi's shield, while his own sword strikes searched for gaps in the bugbear's guard. But Remi had positioned himself carefully, slowly forcing the Commander away from his captive.

"Now!" Remi shouted, and Johnny appeared as if from nowhere, lockpicks flashing in his hands as he worked on Andrew's chains. The Commander roared in fury, but Remi held his ground, his shield becoming an immovable wall between the bugbear and his prisoner.

"You don't belong here," the Commander snarled between attacks. "This school has no place for people who won't accept the natural order."

"The natural order?" Remi deflected another strike. "Or just the order you want to impose?"

Their battle carried them across the hall, past overturned tables and scattered goblins. Remi could see his friends holding their own against the remaining forces, but everything would depend on this final confrontation.

The Commander launched a massive overhead blow, putting all his strength into a crushing attack. But this time, instead of blocking, Remi stepped inside the bugbear's guard. Behind him, he heard the clatter of falling chains and Andrew's triumphant cry as he reclaimed his spellbook.

"Remember rule number one!" Andrew called out, his hands already weaving patterns of magical energy. "Always protect your spellcaster!"

Remi's sword flashed up in a perfect arc, enhanced by all his training—both as a paladin and a swimmer—while Andrew's spell wrapped the blade in brilliant energy.

The crown flew from the Commander's head, clattering across the floor in pieces. The bugbear staggered, his form seeming to waver.

"This isn't over," he growled, but his voice had lost its supernatural resonance. Now he sounded just like Shawn again, all bluster and wounded pride.

"No," Remi agreed, leveling his sword. "But it's a start."

The dream began to fade around him, the stone walls dissolving back into familiar school corridors. The last thing Remi saw was his reflection in a passing window—the paladin's armor shimmering like light on water, the dragon on his shield seeming to move with a life of its own...

Remi jerked awake on the couch, the manga sliding onto his lap. His heart was still racing from the dream-battle, but he felt strangely energized. On the side table, his 3DS remained untouched—he hadn't needed Monster Hunter after all. His own dreams had provided all the adventure he needed.

Rachel stood in the doorway, watching him with a mixture of amusement and concern. "You were making sword noises in your sleep," she said.

Remi felt his face flush. "Was not."

"Were too. But they were pretty cool sword noises." She grinned and disappeared upstairs, leaving Remi to wonder just how much of his dream-battle he'd acted out on the couch.

He gathered up his manga, his mind still half in that transformed version of his school. Maybe that's what he needed—not just to stand up for what he believed in, but to see himself as someone capable of making a difference. Whether online, in the pool, or in his dreams, he was learning to be a defender of others.

Even if sometimes that meant making sword noises in his sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter,

Posting a BUNCH of these at once to catch this location up with Scribblehub where they're already uploaded!

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Remi stared at his reflection in the classroom window, barely registering Mrs. Caldwin's voice as she droned on about cellular mitosis. The autumn sun cast long shadows across the school grounds, and his thoughts drifted to the D&D session planned for the weekend. Johnny had been texting him ideas for their next campaign between classes, providing a welcome distraction from the growing knot in his stomach.

The bell's sharp ring jolted him back to reality. As his classmates hurriedly packed their bags, eager for lunch period, Remi took his time. He'd learned through bitter experience that timing was everything in high school. Too early to lunch meant dealing with the initial rush and its associated chaos; too late meant picking through whatever remained of the day's offerings.

"Don't forget your lab reports are due tomorrow!" Mrs. Caldwin called out to the already emptying classroom. Remi nodded absently, though he'd finished his report days ago. Academic work, at least, was something he could control.

Making his way through the gradually thinning crowds in the hallway, Remi arrived at the cafeteria at what should have been the perfect moment. The initial lunch rush had subsided, but there were still plenty of decent options available. The familiar weight of his backpack provided some comfort as he collected his tray and navigated between the crowded tables, searching for an empty spot.

His gaze caught on Liza, perched at her usual table surrounded by her cheer squad friends. She sat beside Shawn Baker, their school's celebrated athlete, her hand casually draped over his shoulder as she laughed at something he'd said. Remi quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to draw attention.

Too late.

The sound of a chair scraping against linoleum was his only warning. As he passed their table, Liza's arm shot out, perfectly timed to catch his tray. The collision sent his lunch sprawling across the floor, the cheap plastic tray clattering against the ground with a sound that seemed to echo through the suddenly quiet cafeteria.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" Liza's voice dripped with mock sincerity. "I didn't see you there!"

The laughter started slowly, rippling outward from their table until it seemed to fill the entire space. Remi stood frozen, staring at his scattered lunch, aware of every eye in the room fixed on him. His chest felt tight, each breath becoming increasingly difficult as the walls of the cafeteria seemed to close in.

"Better watch where you're going next time," Shawn added, his tone carrying an edge that made the threat clear.

Remi's face burned as he knelt to gather his fallen food, hands trembling slightly. The urge to disappear, to somehow make himself smaller, was overwhelming. Without looking up, he could feel Shawn's satisfied smirk, could picture the way the other boy would be lounging back in his chair, arm draped possessively around Liza's shoulders.

His vision blurred as he abandoned the scattered remains of his lunch, the cheap plastic tray forgotten on the floor. Each step away from the scene felt like moving through water, the cacophony of laughter seeming to follow him like a physical presence. His feet carried him instinctively toward the exit, muscle memory guiding him through the maze of tables and staring faces.

The hallway offered no respite—if anything, the sudden quiet made the echoes of humiliation louder in his head. The boys' bathroom near the science wing beckoned like a sanctuary. It was usually empty during lunch period, tucked away in a quieter corner of the school. Remi burst through the door, the familiar scent of industrial cleaner and damp paper towels greeting him as he stumbled to the nearest sink.

His reflection in the scratched mirror told its own story: flushed cheeks, eyes too bright, hair disheveled from his hasty retreat. The cold water felt shocking against his skin as he splashed his face, trying to wash away the burning shame that seemed to have settled into his very pores. His hands gripped the edges of the porcelain sink until his knuckles turned white, watching water droplets fall from his chin into the drain.

For a moment, the only sounds were his ragged breathing and the steady drip of the leaky faucet two sinks down. In that brief solitude, Remi felt his chest constrict with a sob he refused to let escape. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction. He couldn't.

The bathroom door creaked open behind him, the sound like a gunshot in the tiled space. Heavy footsteps—multiple sets—echoed off the walls. Before Remi could turn around, Shawn's voice cut through his momentary haven.

"Can't even clean up your own mess? That's pretty pathetic, Halistaad."

The words struck deeper than any physical blow, each syllable carefully chosen to maximize impact. Remi felt stripped of something essential—his dignity, his sense of self, perhaps both. The fluorescent lights suddenly seemed too bright, too harsh, exposing every vulnerability he'd tried to hide.

Remi caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror – James Prescott and Eddie Enfield flanking Shawn, spreading out to cut off any easy escape to the door. His heart hammered against his ribs as he straightened up, water still dripping from his chin.

"I asked you a question, Halistaad." Shawn's voice carried that familiar edge of casual cruelty. "What's wrong? Too good to clean up after yourself?"

"Just leave me alone," Remi managed, hating how his voice cracked on the last word.

James let out a sharp laugh. "Or what? You'll go crying to Ms. Thurnglad again?" He affected a mocking falsetto. "'Oh, the big mean boys are being so unfair to me!'"

"Probably already has his little complaint form filled out," Eddie added, moving closer. His stocky frame seemed to take up more space in the confined bathroom, making the walls feel like they were closing in.

Shawn stepped forward, forcing Remi to back up until he hit the cold tile wall. "You know what your problem is, Halistaad? You think you're better than everyone else. Walking around with your nose in those fantasy books, acting like you're too good for the rest of us."

"I don't—" Remi started to protest, but Shawn slammed his palm against the wall next to Remi's head, the sharp crack echoing off the tiles.

"You don't what?" Shawn leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You don't know your place? Because I think it's time someone taught you exactly where you belong."

Eddie's meaty hand grabbed Remi's shoulder, spinning him around to face the mirror. "Take a good look, loser. This is what pathetic looks like."

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving as Remi stared at his own reflection, flanked by his tormentors. His face was still wet from the sink, but now he could feel hot tears threatening to spill over. The shame of it, of being so weak, so helpless, burned worse than any physical pain they could inflict.

"Remember tryouts?" James stepped closer, a cruel smile playing at his lips. "The way you completely choked when Coach ran the drills? I've never seen anyone look so pathetic on the field." His voice dropped to a stage whisper. "Though watching you try to explain to your dad why you didn't make the cut—now that was entertainment."

The memory hit Remi like a physical blow. He could still see his father's disappointed face, still hear the lecture about "applying yourself" and "living up to your potential." James had been there for all of it, watching from the parking lot with that same smirk he wore now.

Something snapped inside Remi. Maybe it was the culmination of years of torment, maybe it was the way his reflection looked so small and scared, or maybe it was just blind panic. He drove his elbow back into Eddie's stomach, catching the larger boy by surprise. In the moment of confusion, he ducked under Shawn's arm and bolted for the door.

He ran until his lungs burned, until the school was far behind him and the residential streets of Boston's suburbs stretched out ahead. Only then did he slow to a walk, his breath coming in ragged gasps that had as much to do with held-back tears as physical exertion. The midday sun cast sharp shadows across neat lawns and cookie-cutter houses, a perfect suburban tableau that felt mockingly peaceful after what he'd just experienced.

Remi walked without direction, letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted. Past the local grocery store where his mother shopped, past the GameStop where he and Johnny spent too many afternoons browsing games they couldn't afford, past all the familiar landmarks of his daily life. Each step put more distance between him and the school, but the weight of humiliation followed like a shadow he couldn't shake.

His phone buzzed periodically in his pocket – probably Andrew checking on him, or maybe the school calling to report his absence. He ignored it. The thought of explaining where he was, of putting into words what had happened, made his throat close up. How could he tell anyone that he'd let them corner him again? That he'd run away like a coward?

The residential streets gradually gave way to more industrial areas. Train tracks cut through this part of town, a reminder of Boston's industrial past. The rhythmic click of his shoes against the sidewalk became almost hypnotic as his mind circled back to James's words, to his father's disappointment, to Liza's perfectly timed cruelty in the cafeteria.

A commuter train rumbled past in the distance, its horn echoing off the old brick buildings. Remi found himself drawn toward the sound, toward the massive metal bridges and empty lots that marked the edge of town. Here, at least, there was no one to see him, no one to judge his weakness or mock his failures.

The late autumn wind picked up, carrying the first hint of winter's bite. Remi pulled his light jacket closer, realizing for the first time that he'd left his backpack behind in his rush to escape. Another mistake to add to the day's growing list. His father would have plenty to say about that, about all of this, if he found out.

When had he started walking along the tracks? The gravel crunched under his feet as he picked his way between the rails, each step carrying him further from the familiar parts of town. The industrial buildings loomed around him like silent witnesses to his exile, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls a stark contrast to the manicured lawns he'd left behind.

He should go back. He knew he should go back. But the thought of returning, of facing everyone after running away, felt impossible. Better to keep walking, to lose himself in the rhythm of his steps and the quiet solitude of the abandoned rail yard. Better to be anywhere but where people could see him, could judge him, could remind him of everything he wasn't and could never be.

Another train whistle sounded in the distance, closer this time. Remi barely registered it, lost in his thoughts as the shadows lengthened around him.

He didn't stop until he was outside the school building entirely, gulping in the fresh air as if he'd been drowning. The late autumn wind felt sharp against his heated face, but he welcomed it. Anything was better than going back inside, than facing what waited for him there.

In that moment, standing alone in the school yard with his heart pounding and his hands still shaking, Remi made a decision. He couldn't—wouldn't—go back in. Not today. Maybe not ever.

He started walking, then running, letting his feet carry him away from the school, away from the humiliation, away from everything. Each step put more distance between him and that cafeteria scene, but the weight of it stayed with him, settling into his bones like a cold that wouldn't lift.

The world had never felt quite so vast and empty as it did in that moment, with nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing and the steady rhythm of his feet against the pavement to keep him company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Johnathon gripped his plastic fork so hard it threatened to snap. He stared at Remi's abandoned tray, at the scattered food that the janitor was now quietly cleaning up. Beside him, Andrew sat in uncharacteristic silence, his own lunch forgotten.

"We should have done something," Johnny muttered, his voice tight. He'd been in the middle of explaining the latest episode of an anime series to Andrew when it happened, his words dying mid-sentence as he watched Liza's perfectly timed "accident" unfold.

Andrew pushed his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit that surfaced whenever he felt helpless. "Like what? Take on Shawn and his whole crew? That's like a level one party trying to fight a red dragon." He paused, then added quietly, "We'd just make it worse for him."

They both knew he was right. The social hierarchy of the school was as rigid as any fantasy game's class system, and they were firmly at the bottom. Johnny's extensive knowledge of anime and Andrew's mastery of D&D rules meant nothing in the face of Shawn's athletic status and James's casual cruelty.

"Did you see where he went?" Johnny asked, finally setting down his fork before it could break. He'd been the one to grab Remi's backpack after his friend fled, knowing they'd have to return it to him eventually.

"Bathroom, probably," Andrew said, glancing toward the cafeteria exit. "But Shawn and his friends followed him." He swallowed hard, guilt written across his features. "Maybe we should tell someone? Ms. Thurnglad—"

"Won't do anything," Johnny cut him off. "Remember last time? She just gave Remi that whole speech about 'learning to handle social situations' and 'developing resilience.'" The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

They sat in uncomfortable silence as the cafeteria's regular buzz of conversation gradually returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. As if their best friend hadn't just been publicly humiliated and driven from the room.

"He's been acting different lately," Andrew said finally, poking at his cold mashed potatoes. "More... I don't know. Withdrawn? Ever since the team tryouts."

Johnny nodded slowly. "His dad's been rough on him about that. You should have heard him last game night, going on about 'living up to his potential' and 'manning up.'" He mimicked Remi's father's stern tone with surprising accuracy.

A commotion near the cafeteria doors drew their attention. Eddie burst in, his face red with exertion or anger – possibly both. He spoke quickly to Shawn's other friends, gesturing animatedly. Even from across the room, Johnny and Andrew could guess what it meant: Remi had gotten away from them.

"Should we try to find him?" Johnny asked, already knowing the answer. They'd played this scene out before.

"I'll keep his backpack," Andrew said, carefully lifting it from under the table. "We can drop it off at his house after school." He hesitated. "Maybe see if he made it home okay."

The weight of Remi's backpack felt wrong on Andrew's shoulder as he sat through his afternoon classes. He'd carried it alongside his own from classroom to classroom, earning curious glances from teachers who knew it wasn't his but didn't bother to ask. Each period, he found himself glancing at Remi's empty seat, half-expecting his friend to suddenly appear with some explanation about where he'd been.

By sixth period calculus, he'd checked his phone at least two dozen times. No messages from Remi. Johnny had texted twice: once to say he'd checked the library during study hall with no luck, and again to report that he'd overheard Shawn bragging about how Remi had "run away crying."

The final bell couldn't come soon enough. Andrew met Johnny at their usual spot by the bike racks, both of them scanning the crowd of departing students out of habit, knowing Remi wouldn't be among them.

"I texted Rachel," Johnny said, unlocking his bike. "Remi's sister," he added unnecessarily. "She hasn't heard from him either."

Andrew adjusted the two backpacks awkwardly. "I should take this to his house. His dad will flip if he doesn't have his homework tomorrow." He knew all too well how Michael Halistaad could get about academic responsibilities.

"Want me to come with?" Johnny offered, but Andrew could see him glancing at his watch. He had his shift at the comic shop in thirty minutes.

"Nah, I got it. Text me if you hear anything?"

The ride to Remi's house took longer than usual. Andrew pedaled his beat-up mountain bike slowly through the neighborhood, the two backpacks making him wobble slightly as he took the long route, checking all their usual hangout spots along the way. The GameStop where they spent too much time browsing games they couldn't afford. The park where they sometimes did their D&D sessions when the weather was nice. The comic shop where Johnny worked, even though he knew his friend wouldn't start his shift for another few minutes.

No sign of Remi anywhere.

Finally, he turned onto Remi's street. The Halistaad house looked exactly as it always did – neat lawn, trimmed hedges, and Rachel's pink bicycle propped against the garage door. Andrew hesitated at the end of the driveway, suddenly unsure. What would he say to Remi's parents? To Rachel?

Before he could decide, the front door opened and Rachel stepped out onto the porch. At fourteen, she looked more like her mother every day, though she carried herself with a confidence that seemed beyond her years. Her expression shifted from hope to disappointment when she saw Andrew standing alone.

"Still nothing?" she asked as Andrew walked his bike up the driveway.

He shook his head. "Brought his backpack." He lifted it slightly, like evidence. "Thought he might need it."

Rachel bit her lip, a gesture so similar to her brother's that it made Andrew's chest tight. "Dad's going to be home soon," she said quietly. "He's already called twice asking if Remi's back yet. Mom's trying to cover, saying he had a group project or something, but..." She trailed off, her usual self-assurance cracking slightly.

"Can I..." Andrew gestured vaguely toward the house. "Maybe check his room? In case he came back without anyone noticing?"

They both knew it was unlikely, but Rachel nodded and held the door open. The house felt different without Remi in it – quieter, somehow. Their last D&D session was still set up on the dining room table, character sheets and dice scattered across the surface. Mrs. Halistaad must have left it untouched, hoping her son would return to finish the game.

Remi's room was exactly as they'd left it yesterday, right down to the rulebook still open on his desk to the page about monster encounter tables. Andrew set the backpack down carefully next to the desk, then stood there awkwardly, not sure what else to do.

"He's never done this before," Rachel said from the doorway. Her voice was small, worried in a way Andrew had never heard from her. "Just... disappeared."

"He'll come back," Andrew said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "He always does."

Rachel's phone buzzed, making them both jump. She checked it, then paled slightly. "Dad's on his way home. He's... not happy."

Andrew nodded, taking the hint. "Text me? If you hear from him?"

"Yeah." Rachel followed him back downstairs. At the front door, she hesitated. "Andrew? You don't think he'd... do anything stupid, right?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken fears. Andrew thought about the look on Remi's face as he fled the cafeteria, about all the little changes in his friend's behavior lately that he'd noticed but hadn't really registered until now.

"He'll be okay," he said finally, not quite answering her question. "Remi's smarter than people give him credit for."

But as he rode home in the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, Andrew couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. He pulled out his phone to text Johnny, then stopped. What could he say that they didn't already know?

Instead, he found himself opening their D&D group chat, staring at Remi's last message from just yesterday: "Can't wait for Saturday's session! Things are finally going to turn around for my character!"

Andrew hoped his friend was right – about more than just the game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Chapter

Hello All! Another chapter up. Continuing to write!

Also, a quick note. Yes, the book will get to the Isekai! One thing that usually bugs me a little bit about so many Isekai genre is either how short a time they put into establishing the main character if they’re going to do so in the beginning pre-isekai. Especially in the case of them getting reborn. Either take some time or just have them appear reborn and tell their past in the story. The best ones of course (Such as Jobless Reincarnation and Rising of the Bookworm) do either of those. But seriously, so many have like the equivalent of a half chapter or two of character development and it is so cookie cutter. So, in this one I decided to make a full backstory. Because it shapes Remi. Especially later in the rebirth cycle.

I’m putting my Discord Channel back up on permanent invite:

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Join Me and some other people to talk shop, discuss artwork, stories, chatter, or just share fun videos or memes!

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TTFN Everyone.

Preamble: I had originally posted the wrong chapter here. I had put up Ch 06 of Terranauts here which will be coming! I have corrected this now. My bad guys.

Remi stood on his front porch, staring at the door like it was the entrance to a dragon's lair. The porch light cast harsh shadows across the welcome mat, and through the window, he could see movement in the living room. His phone, dead for hours now, felt like a lead weight in his pocket. The sun had long since set, and the autumn chill had settled deep into his bones during the long walk home.

His key made a soft scraping sound as he unlocked the door. The warmth of the house hit him first, followed by the absolute silence that fell the moment he stepped inside. The TV clicked off abruptly. In the sudden quiet, Remi could hear his father's heavy footsteps approaching from the living room.

Michael Halistaad filled the doorway between the living room and the entryway, his face set in hard lines that Remi knew all too well. Behind him, Remi caught a glimpse of his mother, Melinda, hovering anxiously, and Rachel perched on the stairs, trying to make herself invisible while still watching everything.

"Where have you been?" His father's voice was deceptively calm, the kind of calm that preceded storms.

Remi swallowed hard. "I—"

"Your phone?" Michael cut him off.

"Dead."

"Dead." His father repeated the word flatly. "Do you have any idea—" He stopped, visibly reining in his temper. "Do you know how many calls we've had to make? To the school? To your friends? To—"

"Michael," Melinda interrupted softly, stepping forward. "Let him explain."

"Explain?" Michael's voice rose slightly. "Explain why he walked out of school in the middle of the day? Explain why no one's heard from him for hours? Explain why Andrew had to bring his backpack home because he abandoned it at school?"

Remi's eyes darted to his backpack, sitting accusingly by the stairs where Andrew must have left it. He could picture his friend making that uncomfortable delivery, probably stammering through an explanation to his parents.

"I just..." Remi's voice felt small in the charged atmosphere. "I needed some time."

"Time?" His father's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Time for what? To worry your mother sick? To skip your classes? To throw away everything we've—"

"Michael, please." Melinda moved fully into the entryway now, positioning herself subtly between father and son. "He's home now. He's safe. That's what matters."

"What matters," Michael's voice carried that edge of disappointment that Remi had grown to dread, "is that our son seems determined to sabotage every opportunity he's given. First the football team—"

"I tried out," Remi protested weakly.

"You quit," his father corrected sharply. "Just like you quit the lacrosse team. Just like you quit everything that requires actual effort instead of hiding in those fantasy games of yours."

The words hit like physical blows. Remi wanted to explain about Shawn, about the coach's son getting preferential treatment, about the systematic humiliation he'd endured. But the words stuck in his throat.

"And now this," Michael continued, building momentum. "Walking out of school? Do you have any idea what that looks like? What people will think?"

"I don't care what people think!" The words burst out before Remi could stop them.

"Well, you should!" Michael's voice filled the entryway. "Because like it or not, people's perceptions matter. Your choices reflect on this family, on your future—"

"My future?" Something snapped inside Remi. "You mean your future. Your plans. Your idea of what I should be!"

"Remi," his mother warned softly, but he was past stopping.

"You want to know why I left? Because I'm tired! Tired of trying to be whatever version of me you think I should be. Tired of pretending everything's fine when it's not. Tired of—" His voice cracked traitorously.

"Oh, spare me the teenage dramatics," Michael cut in. "You think life is hard now? Wait until you're in the real world, where you can't just run away when things get difficult."

"I didn't run away," Remi protested, but even to his own ears, the words sounded weak.

"No? What would you call it then?" His father's voice dripped with sarcasm. "A strategic retreat? Is that what they call it in those games you waste your time with?"

From her perch on the stairs, Rachel made a small sound of protest. Melinda shot her a warning look, and she subsided, but her eyes remained fixed on the confrontation.

"Those games," Remi said through clenched teeth, "are the only place I can just be myself without—"

"Without what?" Michael challenged. "Without having to face reality? Without having to live up to any actual expectations?"

"Without having to fail at being whatever you want me to be!"

The words echoed in the sudden silence. Remi's chest heaved as if he'd been running, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His father stared at him, something unreadable flickering across his features.

"Go to your room." Michael's voice was quiet now, controlled. "We'll discuss your punishment in the morning. And give me your phone."

"But—"

"Now, Remi."

Melinda touched his arm gently as he passed, but Remi shrugged off the contact. He couldn't bear sympathy right now, couldn't handle the way she tried to mediate between his father's rigid expectations and his own failures to meet them.

Rachel scrambled out of his way as he climbed the stairs, but he caught her whispered "I'm glad you're okay" as he passed. He didn't respond. Couldn't respond. Everything felt raw, exposed, like he'd been flayed open and left bleeding in front of everyone.

His room was exactly as he'd left it that morning, his D&D materials still spread across his desk from the previous night's session planning. The familiar space should have felt comforting, but instead, it just emphasized how nothing had really changed. He was still here, still trapped, still failing to be whatever his father wanted him to be.

Dropping onto his bed, Remi stared at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of his parents arguing downstairs. His mother's soft voice contrasted with his father's sharper tones, though he couldn't make out the actual words.

His phone buzzed one final time before dying completely – probably Andrew or Johnny checking on him. He should feel guilty about worrying them, about making them cover for him, about everything. But all he felt was a profound emptiness, as if he'd left something essential behind during his long walk through the city.

Tomorrow would bring consequences – groundings, lectures, probably another visit to Ms. Thurnglad's office for one of her famous "coping strategies" talks. But for now, in the darkness of his room, Remi allowed himself to imagine another life, another world where he didn't have to constantly fall short of everyone's expectations.

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt the warm tears sliding down his temples into his hair. Angrily, he wiped them away. Crying wouldn't solve anything. It never did.

From downstairs, he heard his father's voice rise again: "He needs to learn that actions have consequences!"

Remi rolled onto his side, pulling his pillow over his head to block out the sound. But he couldn't block out the truth in his father's words, couldn't escape the reality that tomorrow would come, bringing with it all the problems he'd tried to run from today.

The worst part was, he wasn't even sure what he was running from anymore – Shawn and his cronies? His father's disappointment? His own inability to fit into any of the boxes the world tried to put him in?

Sleep, when it finally came, brought no answers. Only dreams of running, endlessly running, while voices called after him from the darkness.

The sound of his door banging open jolted Remi awake. He squinted against the sudden light from the hallway, making out his father's bulky silhouette in the doorway.

"Dad?" His voice was rough with sleep. "What—"

"Get up," Michael ordered, striding into the room and flicking on the overhead light. "Help me disconnect this."

Remi's stomach dropped as he realized his father was standing over his desktop computer—the one he'd saved up for months to build, the one that held all his game saves, his character sheets, his entire digital life.

"Dad, please—" Remi scrambled out of bed, but Michael was already yanking cables free with methodical efficiency.

"This isn't a discussion," Michael cut him off. "You want to live in reality? This is reality. Actions have consequences."

"But all my schoolwork is on there!" It wasn't entirely true—most of his assignments were backed up online—but Remi was desperate. "My essays, my—"

"Should have thought about that before you decided to walk out of school." Michael hefted the tower, his movements brusque and purposeful. "You can use the family computer in the living room for homework. Under supervision."

"That's not fair!" The words came out childish, petulant, but Remi couldn't help it. "You can't just—"

"Can't what?" Michael turned to face him fully, the computer tower tucked under one arm. "Can't parent my own son? Can't try to save you from wasting your life in fantasy worlds?" His voice hardened. "Watch me."

"Everything I care about is on that computer," Remi's voice cracked. "My friends—"

"Friends?" Michael's laugh was sharp. "You mean those people you play make-believe with online? That's not friendship, Remi. That's escapism. And it stops now."

Remi could only watch helplessly as his father carried his computer away. The door slammed behind him with a finality that seemed to echo through the house.

In the sudden silence, Remi sank back onto his bed. His desk looked wrong now, empty where his monitor had been, cables dangling uselessly like severed lifelines. Even his D&D materials seemed to mock him from their scattered positions across the surface.

From somewhere downstairs, he heard his mother's voice raised in protest, followed by his father's deeper tones: "He needs to learn there's more to life than games and fantasies."

Remi pulled his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible. The tears came again, but this time he didn't bother wiping them away. What was the point? His father had made his position clear—reality was whatever Michael Halistaad decided it should be, and Remi's own reality didn't factor into that equation at all.

Sleep, when it finally returned, brought dreams of dragons and distant worlds. But now even those felt tainted, marked by his father's disapproval, by the growing certainty that he would never be the son Michael Halistaad wanted him to be.

Morning came too soon, announcing itself with the harsh beep of Remi's alarm clock—no more waking up to his favorite gaming soundtrack now that his computer was gone. The silence felt wrong, oppressive, like the moment before a storm breaks.

He lay there for a moment, staring at the empty space on his desk where his monitor should be. The dangling cables caught the early morning light, casting strange shadows on the wall. His D&D materials still lay scattered across the surface—his father hadn't taken those, at least not yet.

A soft knock at his door made him tense, but it was only Rachel, already dressed for school in her favorite sundress and cardigan combination.

"Mom says breakfast is ready," she said, hovering in the doorway. Her eyes darted to the empty desk, then back to him. "Dad already left for work. Early meeting."

The knot in Remi's chest loosened slightly. At least he wouldn't have to face his father across the breakfast table.

"I'll be down in a minute," he managed.

"Hey." Rachel's voice stopped him as he turned toward his closet. "I, um... I saved all those character sheets you sent me last week. The ones for the new campaign? They're still in my email, so..."

Remi felt something catch in his throat. He hadn't even thought about those—he'd emailed them to Rachel when she'd shown interest in maybe joining their next session.

"Thanks," he whispered.

She shrugged, trying to look casual despite the concern in her eyes. "Whatever. I still think D&D is weird, but..." She trailed off, then added quickly, "Mom made French toast. The good kind, with the cinnamon."

The kitchen smelled like warmth and childhood memories when Remi finally made his way downstairs. His mother stood at the stove, adding another piece of French toast to an already impressive stack. She wore her usual work outfit—crisp blouse and pencil skirt—but her movements were more careful than usual, as if she was operating in a space filled with invisible tripwires.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said, her voice carrying that particular tone she used when trying to maintain normalcy in decidedly abnormal situations. "I thought you might be hungry, since..." She didn't finish the sentence, but they all knew he hadn't eaten dinner the night before.

"Thanks, Mom." Remi slid into his usual seat, noting how Rachel had already set out butter, syrup, and powdered sugar—all his favorites.

"I called Ms. Thurnglad this morning," his mother said, placing a plate in front of him. "She's expecting you first thing."

Of course she was. Remi cut into his French toast with perhaps more force than necessary, watching syrup pool around the edges of his plate.

"And I spoke with your father," she continued, her back to him as she worked on another piece of toast. "He agreed that you can still use the family computer for schoolwork. In the living room, where we can—" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Where we can support you better."

"Support?" Rachel muttered under her breath. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Rachel." Their mother's tone held a warning.

"What? It's not fair! Remi wasn't even doing anything wrong. Those jerks at school—"

"That's enough." Melinda turned from the stove, her expression firm but gentle. "We're not discussing this now."

Rachel subsided, but her foot found Remi's under the table—a small gesture of solidarity that meant more than words could express.

The rest of breakfast passed in careful conversation about safe topics: Rachel's upcoming science project, their mother's yoga class, the weather forecast for the weekend. No one mentioned the empty space where Remi's computer should be, or the fact that his phone lay somewhere in his father's office, probably locked in a drawer.

As they cleared the table, their mother paused in gathering her work materials. "Remi? You know your father... he's just trying to do what he thinks is best."

"Yeah." Remi stacked plates with mechanical precision. "He always is."

The drive to school was quiet, broken only by the soft sounds of NPR from the car radio. His father's new edicts had been clear—no more walking to school, no more independence. "If you can't be trusted to stay there," Michael had declared during his mother's attempts at mediation that morning, "then you'll be driven. Every morning, every afternoon. No exceptions." His mother had adjusted her work schedule accordingly, though Remi had heard her tense phone call with her supervisor about coming in late and leaving early for "family matters."

Rachel had claimed the front seat, an unusual choice for her, but Remi understood why—she was trying to give him space, letting him retreat into the back seat where he could process everything without having to engage. The familiar route felt different somehow, confined by his father's restrictions, each passing landmark a reminder of the freedom he'd lost.

As they pulled up to the school, their mother cleared her throat. "I'll pick you both up after school. We can... we can talk more then, if you'd like."

Remi nodded numbly, already dreading what awaited him inside. Ms. Thurnglad's office first, then classes where everyone would know about his disappearing act, then lunch where Shawn and his crew would be waiting...

"Hey." Rachel caught his arm before he could head toward the building. "If anyone gives you trouble today, I'll—" She glanced at their mother, then lowered her voice. "I'll tell everyone about that time Dad got stuck in his wetsuit at Cape Cod."

Despite everything, Remi felt his lips twitch toward a smile. The memory of their father hopping around the beach, struggling with a too-tight rental wetsuit while Rachel recorded the whole thing on her phone, was one of their favorite shared moments of schadenfreude.

"Thanks, Rach."

She punched his arm lightly. "Don't mention it. Seriously, don't. I have a reputation to maintain."

Watching his sister bounce away toward her friends, her sundress swishing around her knees, Remi felt a complicated mix of emotions. She could be a pain, could drive him crazy with her dramatic teenage moments, but when it really mattered... He shook his head, shouldering his backpack.

Time to face reality, as his father would say. Even if reality seemed determined to face him right back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So...

I accidentally put up Terranauts Chapter 06 here not Hatchlings Remorse Chapter 06. I am TERRIBLY sorry about that.

End of Chapter

Hello All! Another chapter up. Continuing to write!

Also, a quick note. Yes, the book will get to the Isekai! One thing that usually bugs me a little bit about so many Isekai genre is either how short a time they put into establishing the main character if they’re going to do so in the beginning pre-isekai. Especially in the case of them getting reborn. Either take some time or just have them appear reborn and tell their past in the story. The best ones of course (Such as Jobless Reincarnation and Rising of the Bookworm) do either of those. But seriously, so many have like the equivalent of a half chapter or two of character development and it is so cookie cutter. So, in this one I decided to make a full backstory. Because it shapes Remi. Especially later in the rebirth cycle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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TTFN Everyone.

The nameplate on Ms. Thurnglad's door gleamed in the fluorescent hallway lights: "Student Guidance Counselor." Remi stood before it, his hand hovering over the handle as the morning bell rang in the distance. Through the frosted glass window, he could make out a vague shape moving within—probably Ms. Thurnglad arranging her ever-present collection of motivational posters and self-help books into their precise positions.

He'd been here before, of course. The worn chair across from her desk had practically molded itself to fit him after countless "discussions about peer interactions" and "strategy sessions for social integration." Each visit had left him feeling more hollow than the last, wrapped in layers of well-meaning advice that had no bearing on his actual reality.

A soft knock on the glass made him jump. "Come in, Remi," Ms. Thurnglad's voice carried through the door. "I know you're out there."

Taking a deep breath, Remi pushed the door open. The office looked exactly as he remembered it—motivational posters covering every available wall space, a small desktop fountain providing what Ms. Thurnglad called "ambient peace," and the ever-present scent of lavender from the essential oil diffuser she claimed helped students "center their emotional energy."

Ms. Thurnglad herself sat behind her desk, her reading glasses perched precisely on her nose, her gray hair pulled back in its usual severe bun. She was writing in what Remi recognized as his student file—a folder that had grown noticeably thicker over the years.

"Sit down," she said without looking up, gesturing to the familiar chair across from her desk. "I've been reviewing your file while waiting."

Remi sank into the chair, his backpack sliding to rest against his feet. The fountain burbled quietly, its peaceful sound somehow making the silence more awkward.

"So," Ms. Thurnglad finally looked up, removing her glasses with practiced deliberation. "Would you like to explain yesterday's... incident?"

The way she said "incident" made it sound like he'd committed some horrible crime rather than simply leaving school. Remi shifted in his seat, aware of how his father's punishment had left him feeling even more vulnerable than usual.

"I just needed some space," he muttered, studying the pattern in the carpet.

"Space." She repeated the word as if testing its validity. "And you felt that leaving school grounds without permission was the appropriate way to acquire this 'space'?"

When he didn't respond, she sighed, the sound carrying years of dealing with what she termed "difficult cases."

"Remi, we've discussed this before. When you're feeling overwhelmed, there are proper channels to address your concerns. My door is always open—"

"Your door was open last time too," Remi interrupted, surprising himself with the bitterness in his voice. "When I tried to tell you about the football tryouts. About Coach Stevens and Shawn—"

"Ah yes, the tryouts." Ms. Thurnglad shuffled through some papers in his file. "As I recall, we had a very productive discussion about handling disappointment and developing resilience in the face of setbacks."

Remi's hands clenched in his lap. "That's not what happened. They deliberately—"

"What I see," she cut him off smoothly, "is a pattern of avoidance behavior. When faced with challenging social situations, you retreat into fantasy—your games, your online activities." She glanced at another note in his file. "Your mother mentioned this morning that your father has had to take steps to address this dependency."

The casual mention of his computer's confiscation felt like salt in an open wound. "That's not fair," Remi protested. "Those games, those people online—they're real friends. They accept me for who I am, not who everyone thinks I should be."

Ms. Thurnglad's expression shifted to what Remi thought of as her "therapeutic concern" face. "Remi, at your age, it's natural to feel misunderstood. But retreating into virtual worlds isn't the answer. You need to learn to navigate real-world social dynamics."

"Real-world social dynamics?" Remi couldn't keep the edge from his voice. "You mean like Shawn and his friends cornering me in the bathroom? Like Liza deliberately knocking over my lunch tray? That kind of social dynamic?"

"If you're experiencing bullying—"

"I'm not 'experiencing' anything," Remi snapped. "It's being done to me. By specific people. People you keep telling me I need to 'understand' and 'empathize' with."

Ms. Thurnglad's lips thinned slightly. "Raising your voice won't help this discussion, Remi. Perhaps we should take a moment to center ourselves." She reached for the essential oil diffuser. "I just got a new blend of chamomile and—"

"No." Remi stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "No more oils, no more breathing exercises, no more talking about my 'feelings' while ignoring what's actually happening."

"Sit down, please." Her voice carried that edge of authority she reserved for what she called "emotional escalation situations."

But Remi remained standing, years of frustrated counseling sessions suddenly crystallizing into anger. "You want to know why I left yesterday? Because this—" he gestured around the office, at the posters promising "Peace Through Understanding" and "Growth Through Acceptance"—"this isn't real. None of it helps. None of it changes anything."

"Remi—"

"You tell me to use proper channels, to report problems, to trust the system. But the system doesn't work. Not when Coach Stevens lets his star players do whatever they want. Not when teachers conveniently look the other way. Not when you—" He stopped, his voice threatening to crack.

Ms. Thurnglad regarded him with what she probably thought was patience but felt more like condescension. "When I what, Remi?"

"When you pretend everything can be fixed with breathing exercises and positive thinking. When you act like I'm the problem because I won't just accept being treated like this."

"I've tried telling teachers," Remi continued, his voice rising with frustration. "I reported what happened at tryouts - how Coach Stevens let Shawn and James keep hitting me after the play was dead. How they 'accidentally' checked me into the goalpost."

Ms. Thurnglad flipped through her notes. "Ah yes, I have the incident report here. Coach Stevens indicated it was standard contact drills—"

"It wasn't standard anything!" The words burst out of Remi. "They were deliberately trying to hurt me. Everyone could see it. Even the other players were uncomfortable."

"That's a very serious accusation, Remi." Her tone carried that particular note of dismissal he'd grown to hate. "Coach Stevens is a respected member of our faculty. I'm sure if there had been any inappropriate conduct-"

"What about the cafeteria monitors?" Remi pressed on. "I've told them about Liza and her friends destroying my lunch. About Eddie cornering younger students. They just look the other way."

"Perhaps you're misinterpreting—"

"Misinterpreting what? The way Shawn's friends followed me into the bathroom yesterday? The way they've been making my life hell since freshman year?" Remi's voice cracked slightly. "I've documented everything, just like you told me to. Times, dates, witnesses. None of it matters because no one wants to actually do anything about it."

Ms. Thurnglad sighed, removing her glasses to polish them with deliberate care. "Remi, high school is a complex social environment. What you perceive as targeting might simply be normal teenage interactions that you're having difficulty processing appropriately."

"Normal?" Remi let out a bitter laugh. "Is that what you call it when Eddie slams a freshman into the lockers? When James spreads rumors about anyone who stands up to them? When they deliberately sabotaged my chances at making any sports team?"

"I think you're catastrophizing again," Ms. Thurnglad said, her voice taking on that forced patience he knew too well. "We've discussed this tendency of yours to view yourself as a victim—"

"Because I am a victim!" Remi's hands were shaking now. "But every time I try to report it, every time I follow the 'proper channels,' it gets turned around on me. I'm too sensitive. I'm misinterpreting things. I need to learn resilience."

She made a note in his file, the scratch of her pen somehow more infuriating than anything else. "I understand you're feeling frustrated—"

"No, you don't." Remi's voice was quiet now, all the fight suddenly draining out of him. "You really, really don't."

Ms. Thurnglad set down her pen with deliberate care. "I think perhaps we should schedule another session for later this week. When you're feeling more... receptive to guidance. In the meantime—" she pulled a pad of hall passes from her desk drawer—"you should get to class. Your teachers have been informed about yesterday's incident, but you'll need to arrange to make up any missed work."

Remi took the hall pass wordlessly, already knowing how this would play out. She would note his "emotional outburst" in his file. There would be more sessions, more talks about "coping strategies" and "positive social engagement." Nothing would actually change.

"And Remi?" She called as he reached the door. "Remember what we've discussed about choosing appropriate responses to stress. Running away never solves anything."

He closed the door behind him without responding, the hall pass crumpling slightly in his grip. The first period bell had long since rung, leaving the hallway eerily empty. Somewhere in the building, his regular schedule continued without him—classes where teachers would give him concerned looks, students would whisper about his disappearance, and Shawn's crew would be planning their next move.

But for just a moment, standing alone in that quiet hallway, Remi allowed himself to imagine another world. A world where running away might actually lead somewhere better. A world where being different wasn't something to be corrected or counseled away.

A world where he could finally be himself.

The second period bell jarred him from his thoughts. He smoothed out the hall pass and headed toward his next class, Ms. Thurnglad's lavender-scented advice already fading like morning mist. But something else lingered—a feeling he couldn't quite name, a sense that maybe, just maybe, running away wasn't always the wrong choice.

Sometimes, he thought, you had to run away from something to run toward something else.

He just wished he knew what that something else might be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Melinda Halistaad stared at her computer screen, the quarterly reports blurring before her eyes. Her morning schedule lay in ruins after dropping Remi off at school, and now her mind kept drifting back to his face as he'd walked into the building, shoulders hunched as if carrying an invisible weight.

"Earth to Melinda." Sarah, her office mate of five years, waved a hand in front of the screen. "That's the third time you've sighed in ten minutes. Want to talk about it?"

Melinda glanced at the clock—10:30. She'd been at work for barely two hours, and already she was fighting the urge to call the school and check on Remi. Instead, she turned to Sarah, who was perched on the edge of her desk with two steaming cups of coffee from the break room.

"Is one of those for me?" Melinda asked.

"Hazelnut, extra cream, just how you like it." Sarah handed over a cup. "Now spill. And I don't mean the coffee."

Melinda accepted the coffee gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. "It's Remi," she said after a moment. "And Michael. Everything's just... it's all falling apart, and I don't know how to fix it."

"What happened?" Sarah pulled her chair over, creating a small island of privacy in their shared office space. "Does this have something to do with why you needed to change your schedule?"

"Remi left school yesterday. Just walked out." Melinda's voice cracked slightly. "He was gone for hours. Wouldn't answer his phone. We were about to call the police when he finally came home."

"Oh God, is he okay?"

"Physically? Yes. But Michael..." Melinda set her coffee down, her hands trembling slightly. "He took Remi's computer. Said he needs to 'learn about reality' and 'stop living in fantasy worlds.' As if that's going to solve anything."

Sarah's expression darkened. "Still trying to control everything with an iron fist, is he?"

"You don't know the half of it." Melinda lowered her voice, though their nearest coworkers were well out of earshot. "He's been impossible ever since Remi didn't make the football team. Keeps talking about how his son needs to 'man up' and 'stop being so sensitive.' As if sensitivity is some kind of character flaw."

"Sounds like Michael hasn't changed much since college," Sarah muttered. She'd known both Melinda and Michael since their university days, had watched their relationship evolve—and, in some ways, devolve—over the years.

"If anything, he's gotten worse." Melinda took a sip of coffee, gathering her thoughts. "He doesn't see what's really happening. Remi's being bullied—has been for years. The coach's son and his friends... they're brutal. But every time Remi tries to tell someone, it gets dismissed. And Michael just tells him to 'toughen up' and 'deal with it.'"

"Like Michael dealt with things in college?" Sarah's tone was pointed. They both remembered Michael's tendency to solve problems with aggressive confrontation rather than understanding.

"Exactly." Melinda's shoulders slumped. "But Remi's not like that. He's sensitive, yes, but he's also empathetic and kind. He sees the world differently than Michael does. His games, his online friends—they're not an escape, they're where he can actually be himself without judgment."

"And Michael took that away."

"He thinks he's helping." Melinda's voice held a mixture of frustration and defeat. "Says he's 'preparing Remi for the real world.' But whose real world? Michael's? Where everything has to fit into neat little boxes of what's acceptable for a teenage boy?"

Sarah leaned back in her chair, studying her friend. "You don't agree with how Michael's handling this."

"Of course I don't!" The words came out sharper than Melinda intended. She glanced around, but no one seemed to have noticed her outburst. "But every time I try to intervene, to suggest a different approach, Michael accuses me of 'babying' Remi. Says I'm enabling his 'weakness.'"

"That sounds like Michael, alright." Sarah's voice was dry. "Still living in the 1950s where men aren't allowed to have feelings."

Melinda traced the rim of her coffee cup with one finger. "You should see how he treats Rachel differently. She can be as emotional as she wants, can spend hours on social media, can have all the feelings in the world. But Remi? God forbid he show any vulnerability."

"Have you considered..." Sarah hesitated, then forged ahead. "Have you thought about counseling? Family therapy maybe?"

Melinda's bitter laugh said everything. "Michael would never agree. He doesn't believe in therapy. Says it's for people who can't handle their own problems."

"And how's that working out for everyone?"

"About as well as you'd expect." Melinda's computer chimed with another email notification, but she ignored it. "I'm worried, Sarah. Really worried. I see Remi withdrawing more and more. The synchronized swimming team was the first thing he's seemed excited about in months, but even that... Michael just barely tolerates it. Keeps making these little comments about it not being a 'real sport.'"

"Sounds like Michael's the one with issues, not Remi."

"Try telling him that." Melinda picked up her coffee again, but it had gone cold. "I just... I don't know what to do. If I push too hard against Michael's decisions, it'll just make things worse at home. But if I don't do something..." She trailed off, the unspoken fear hanging in the air between them.

Sarah reached over and squeezed her friend's hand. "You're doing the best you can in an impossible situation."

"Am I?" Melinda blinked back sudden tears. "Sometimes I feel like I'm failing both my children. Rachel sees everything that's happening—she's fourteen, not blind. And Remi... he needs someone in his corner, someone who can actually protect him. Instead, he has a father who thinks tough love is the answer to everything and a mother who can't even stand up to her own husband."

"Hey." Sarah's voice was firm. "You are not failing them. You're trying to navigate a complicated situation with a husband who's stuck in his ways. That takes its own kind of strength."

Melinda wiped at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. "I just wish... I wish Michael could see Remi for who he is, not who he thinks Remi should be. I wish I knew how to bridge that gap between them before it becomes too wide to cross."

"Maybe it's not your gap to bridge," Sarah suggested gently. "Maybe Michael needs to do some of that work himself."

"That would require him to admit he might be wrong about something." Melinda's smile was sad. "And we both know how likely that is."

Their conversation was interrupted by Melinda's phone buzzing—a text from Rachel asking if she could go to a friend's house after school. The mundane normality of it almost made Melinda laugh. Life went on, even when everything felt like it was falling apart.

"I should get back to work," Melinda said, straightening in her chair. "These reports won't review themselves."

"Mel?" Sarah paused at her own desk. "Just... keep an eye on things, okay? And remember you can always crash at my place if you need to. You and the kids."

Melinda nodded, though they both knew she'd never take Sarah up on the offer. She'd made her choices long ago, for better or worse. Now she had to live with them—and hope her children didn't pay too high a price for her compromises.

Turning back to her computer, Melinda tried to focus on the quarterly reports. But her mind kept drifting to Remi, sitting in Ms. Thurnglad's office, probably getting another lecture about "appropriate responses to stress." She checked the time again: 10:45. Still hours until she could pick him up, hours until she could see for herself that he was okay.

Until then, all she could do was worry, and work, and hope that somehow, something would change before it was too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of another chapter!

I’m putting my Discord Channel back up on permanent invite:

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TTFN Everyone.

Forewarning:
This chapter is a bit darker than the last few. It deals with even more bullying and with death.
Please read at your own discression.

The clock in Ms. Caldwin's classroom ticked with excruciating slowness, each second dragging like an eternity. Remi sat in the back row, barely registering her explanation of polynomial functions. The empty seat beside him where Andrew usually sat felt like a void—his friend had texted earlier about being home sick, though Remi suspected it had more to do with avoiding Shawn after yesterday's confrontation.

Through the window, he could see the parent pickup line already forming. His mother would be there soon, precisely on schedule—another of his father's new rules designed to keep him under constant supervision. No more walking home, no more stopping at the comic shop with Johnny, no more pretending he had any control over his own life.

Eddie Enfield sat two rows ahead, occasionally turning to smirk at Remi. He'd been unusually quiet today, which probably meant he was planning something. That's how it always went—the quiet days were just the calm before another storm of "social adjustment," as Shawn's crew liked to call it.

The final bell rang through the halls, releasing a flood of pent-up energy as students rushed to escape. Remi took his time packing up, watching Eddie disappear into the crowd. He'd learned to be careful about timing, about avoiding the wrong corridors at the wrong moments. It was exhausting, this constant strategic thinking, this endless calculation of risks and escape routes.

At his locker, he stood watching other students stream past toward waiting cars and buses. A group of girls walked by, Tawnee among them. She caught his eye for a moment, started to smile, then quickly looked away as Liza whispered something that made the others laugh. The sound cut through him like glass, adding one more small wound to his collection.

His mother would be arriving soon, punctual as always. He could picture exactly how the evening would unfold: the quiet drive home, his father waiting with that look of perpetual disappointment, another lecture about responsibility and living up to expectations. The computer was still gone, his phone stripped of everything but basic functions, his life shrinking smaller every day.

He should go wait by the front entrance. He knew that. Just like he knew that walking away now would only make things worse. More groundings. More lectures. More disappointment.

But the thought of going home, of facing another evening under his father's watchful eye, made his chest tight with something close to panic. Without really deciding to, he shouldered his backpack and slipped out the side door, away from the parent pickup line where his mother would be waiting.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself at the edge of town, where neat suburban lawns gave way to patches of scrubland and forgotten lots. His feet carried him past the GameStop where he and Johnny spent too many afternoons dreaming about games they couldn't afford, past the diner where his father used to take him for pancakes before everything changed, past all the familiar landmarks of a life that felt increasingly like it belonged to someone else.

The first hour slipped by in a haze of motion. His phone buzzed repeatedly—his mother's ringtone at first, then his father's more insistent tone. He could picture the progression of worry to anger, could almost hear his father's voice: "This is exactly what I'm talking about. No sense of responsibility..." He left the phone unanswered in his pocket, each missed call another brick in the wall of punishment that awaited him.

The second hour found him walking along the commuter rail line, kicking loose stones between the tracks. The rails stretched ahead like infinite possibilities, each curve promising somewhere else, anywhere else. A train roared past, the wind of its passage tugging at his clothes, and for a brief moment he imagined himself aboard, carried away to some distant city where no one knew his name or his failures.

By the third hour, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the gravel, and the metal rails gleamed dully in the fading light. His legs ached from walking, but he welcomed the pain—it was honest, at least, unlike the twisted knot of emotions in his chest. Another train passed, slower this time, its windows lit from within. He caught glimpses of passengers immersed in their phones or books or conversations, each living their own story, none of them aware of the boy watching from the tracks.

His phone had fallen silent now. Perhaps they'd given up trying to reach him. Or perhaps they were already calling the police, filing a missing persons report, setting in motion the machinery of authority that would eventually drag him back. He left the phone unanswered, knowing each minute of silence was just adding to the punishment that would eventually come.

The industrial district stretched around him, a maze of abandoned warehouses and chain-link fences. Here, at least, no one would look for him. No one would expect to find Michael Halistaad's son among the graffiti-covered walls and broken windows.

A car engine growled behind him.

Remi's shoulders tensed at the familiar sound—a custom exhaust system he'd heard too many times in the school parking lot. He quickened his pace, veering away from the road toward the relative safety of the rail yard.

"Hey, Halistaad!" The voice carried over the rumble of the engine. "Going somewhere?"

Gravel crunched under tires as the car pulled alongside the tracks. Remi didn't need to look to know who it was—one of the jocks who regularly joined Shawn's "social adjustments," as they liked to call their harassment. The kind of guy who saw a lone target and couldn't resist.

"What's wrong?" Another voice joined in. "Too good to say hello?"

Remi broke into a run.

Car doors slammed behind him. Footsteps pounded on gravel. They were following him on foot now, probably enjoying the chase. This wasn't school, with its cameras and witnesses. This was their chance to finish what they'd started in the bathroom.

The rail yard opened up ahead—a maze of switching tracks and abandoned cargo containers. Remi darted between two rusty containers, his heart hammering against his ribs. If he could just lose them in the maze, find somewhere to hide until they got bored...

A figure stepped out from behind a container. Remi skidded to a stop, nearly losing his balance on the loose gravel. The man looked homeless, his clothes ragged, his face obscured by a wild beard. But something about his posture seemed wrong—too deliberate, too aware.

"Careful there, kid." The man's voice carried an odd accent Remi couldn't place. "These tracks can be dangerous."

Footsteps approached from behind. Remi was trapped between the stranger and his pursuers, with container walls on either side. The setting sun painted everything in shades of red and gold, turning the scene surreal.

A train whistle echoed in the distance.

The stranger reached toward him.

The stranger's hand seemed to move in slow motion, reaching for Remi with deliberate purpose. Behind him, the jocks' footsteps grew closer, their taunting calls now tinged with something darker. The train whistle sounded again, closer this time, its cry taking on an almost mournful quality.

Remi stood frozen between threats, his mind racing through options that grew more impossible with each passing second. The container walls rose like prison bars on either side. The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he shifted his weight, preparing to... to what? Fight? Run? There was nowhere left to go.

"Time to go home, kid," the stranger said, but the words held an impossible weight, as if "home" meant something far beyond the house where his father waited with disappointment and punishment. The man's eyes seemed to glow in the deepening shadows, reflecting something ancient and knowing.

The jocks were close enough now that Remi could hear their labored breathing. "Nowhere to run now, Halistaad!" one called out, his voice echoing off the metal containers. Another laughed—a sharp, cruel sound that cut through the evening air.

The train's horn blasted again, impossibly close. The tracks beneath Remi's feet began to vibrate. Instinct screamed at him to move, to get away from the approaching danger, but the stranger's hand was inches from his shoulder now, and the jocks had closed off his escape route.

Time seemed to stretch like taffy, each moment expanding into eternity. Remi saw everything with crystalline clarity: the rust patterns on the container walls, the way the setting sun painted the stranger's beard with streaks of fire, the deadly certainty in the man's eyes. This wasn't just a homeless man who had wandered into the rail yard. This was something else entirely—something that had been waiting for him.

The stranger's fingers brushed Remi's shoulder just as the train burst into view, its headlight cutting through the gathering dusk like a sword. In that blinding moment, Remi thought he saw other shapes moving behind the man—impossible shapes that his mind couldn't quite grasp. The ground lurched beneath his feet, or maybe the whole world shifted, and suddenly he was falling.

The train's horn drowned out everything else, becoming a physical force that pressed against his ears. The last thing Remi saw was the stranger's face, now calm and almost sorrowful, as if watching the inevitable conclusion of a long-planned event.

Then darkness swept in like a tide, and Remi Halistaad—the boy who had tried to outrun his life—slipped away from this world entirely. His consciousness scattered like leaves in a storm, spinning through impossible spaces between realities.

In another world, in another time, an egg rocked gently in its nest. Something stirred within, reaching for a new beginning.

The rail yard grew quiet again. The train thundered past, its wheels clicking against the tracks in a steady rhythm. The jocks stood frozen, their faces pale in the fading light, trying to process what they had just witnessed. But the stranger was gone as if he had never been there at all, leaving only questions that would never be answered and a story that would become local legend.

And somewhere, in a reality that operated on different rules entirely, a new story was about to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter

First Note: Yes, this is the end of Remi's home world. The next several chapters will be the beginning of the Isekai portion.

Second Note: I apologize to everyone who has lived through what Remi has lived through. I know how bad these portions of life can be, many of us have lived them. Too many. It is also why I did my best to really capture the Emotion of it all, the frustration and the emotional turmoil. No One should go through this, yet it happens. It really happens. As all of us here at Big Closet likely has learned. I don't post this note in other areas I post to because those communities do not have the youth issues that most of us who have found this site have experienced. We here come from some place that is usually much harsher. We have more issues because of it. More scars, both emotional and physical. Some being horrific, some being not so much. They are there all the same.

Third Note: The story will get better now, I promise! I just needed to really set Remi up as a person before Train-Kun took him to another world (Train-Kun rather than Truck-Kun because that particular Isekai murder machine was a bit busy this time around)

I hope that this story has been enjoyable so far, more to come!!!

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TTFN Everyone.

Chapter 09

Warmth.

That was the first sensation—a gentle, encompassing warmth that seemed to cradle consciousness itself. There was no body to feel it with, no skin to register temperature, just the pure essence of warmth wrapping around awareness like a mother's embrace.

Time had no meaning here. Perhaps it flowed like honey, thick and slow, or perhaps it had stopped entirely. Without a heart to beat or lungs to breathe, how could one measure the passing of moments?

Memories flickered like distant stars, more substantial now. Remi. That was the name—his name. It floated through the warmth like a leaf on water, carrying fragments of a life that seemed simultaneously immediate and ancient. His father's disappointed frown. His mother's worried eyes. Rachel's laughter echoing down the hallway. The weight of Andrew's D&D books spread across his bedroom floor. Johnny's excited rambling about the latest anime episode.

Each memory sparked others: the humiliation in the cafeteria, the fear in the bathroom, the long walk along the train tracks seeking escape. But here, in this warm darkness, even these painful memories lost their sting. They were simply scenes in a story that had reached its final chapter.

What would Rachel do when he didn't come home? Would she miss their bickering, their shared jokes, their quiet moments of sibling understanding? Would his mother blame herself, adding one more worry to her collection? Would his father finally realize that his rigid expectations had helped drive his son away?

But even these thoughts felt distant now, like watching ripples spread across a pond's surface from very far away. The warmth wrapped around him like a blanket, gently pulling him away from the person he had been.

Sound existed as gentle vibrations, muffled and indistinct. Sometimes they formed patterns that might have been voices, or perhaps they were just the cosmic background noise of existence itself. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except this perfect, peaceful suspension.

Occasionally, other sensations would ripple through the warmth—gentle movements, subtle shifts in pressure, the faintest hint of something that might have been light filtering through the darkness. But these too were abstract, disconnected from any need to understand or interpret.

There was no fear here, no anxiety, no desperate need to run or hide or prove oneself worthy. Those concepts belonged to another existence, another story that had reached its end. Here, there was only peace and potential, like a seed waiting in fertile soil, neither awake nor truly sleeping.

The warmth pulsed sometimes with what might have been heartbeats, though whether they came from within or without was impossible to determine. They created a rhythm that needed no understanding, a music that spoke to something deeper than thought.

Awareness expanded and contracted like breathing, though there were no lungs to draw air. Sometimes it spread out so far that it seemed to touch the edges of everything, and sometimes it contracted to a single point of existence. In those contracted moments, fragments of his old life felt crystal clear: the way Tawnee's eyes crinkled when she smiled in chemistry class, the proud set of his father's shoulders before disappointment became his default expression, the exact shade of blue that Rachel had painted her bedroom walls despite their mother's protests.

But with each expansion, those specific memories dissolved into something larger, something that transcended individual moments and emotions. He was both Remi and something more—or perhaps something less, stripped down to pure potential, floating in infinite space.

There was no rush to change, no pressure to become. This was a space of pure being, of existence without expectation. Time meant nothing. Identity meant nothing. There was only the warmth, the gentle pressure, the floating, and the perfect peace of potential.

Sometimes, very faintly, there would be other presences—similar sparks of awareness floating in their own cocoons of warmth. They were neither close nor far, as distance had no meaning here, but their existence was somehow comforting, like stars sharing the vast darkness of space.

And so awareness floated, neither awake nor asleep, neither being nor becoming, suspended in the perfect moment between what was and what would be. No thoughts disturbed this peace, no memories demanded attention, no future called for preparation.

There was only now.

Only warmth.

Only peace.

Only potential.

And somewhere, in a reality that operated on different rules entirely, an egg rocked gently in its nest, cradling a transformation that would bridge worlds and change destinies.

But here, in the space between, there was only the eternal moment of becoming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Chapter 09

Chapter 10 - Intermission

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 10: BOSTON HERALD
*Thursday, October 17, 2024*

RAILWAY INCIDENT RAISES QUESTIONS
Student Found Unconscious After Train Conductor Reports Strike

BOSTON — A local high school student was discovered unconscious near the railway tracks in the industrial district Tuesday evening after a train conductor reported a possible collision. Railway maintenance worker Thomas Jenkins found the severely injured teenager while investigating the conductor's report.

"I was checking the section of track where the conductor reported the incident," Jenkins stated. "Found him about thirty feet from the rails. No one else around, which struck me as odd given the time of day."

Detective Sarah Martinez confirmed that while the cause of the injuries appears consistent with a train collision, other aspects of the scene have raised questions. "We're particularly interested in speaking with any witnesses who may have left the area before emergency services arrived," she stated.

The incident has deeply affected the local community. "He was a quiet student, always kind to others," said one teacher who requested anonymity. "The empty seat in class serves as a constant reminder, and we're all hoping for his recovery."

Medical staff at Boston General Hospital report the student remains in a comatose state following treatment for severe trauma. Authorities are asking anyone who may have been in the industrial district between 6:45 and 7:30 PM on Tuesday to contact the police department with any information about the circumstances leading up to the accident.

---

MUSEUM HEIST SPARKS CULTURAL CONTROVERSY
Beastkin Community Leaders Condemn "Deeply Offensive" Theft

In a separate incident that has inflamed local tensions, three individuals were apprehended Tuesday night following a brazen attempted theft at the Museum of Natural History. The suspects, whose names are being withheld pending formal charges, allegedly attempted to steal several artifacts while wearing what museum officials described as "culturally inappropriate Beastkin costumes."

"This incident goes beyond simple theft," stated Dr. Elena Rodriguez, the museum's curator. "The deliberate mimicry of Beastkin cultural elements represents a profound disrespect to our diverse community."

The Beastkin Cultural Association released a statement condemning the incident: "The appropriation of our identity for criminal activities reinforces harmful stereotypes that our community continues to fight against. We call for these actions to be treated with the seriousness they deserve."

The suspects face multiple charges, including third-degree theft and hate crime enhancements under the Cultural Preservation Act of 2018. Museum officials have announced increased security measures and sensitivity training for all staff members.

Local authorities have noted a concerning uptick in similar incidents across the greater Boston area, though they maintain there is no evidence linking these events to any organized movement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Ch 10 - Intermission

Chapter 11: Emergence

The first crack shattered the perfect silence.

Remi's consciousness, so long suspended in peaceful warmth, jolted at the sound. It resonated through the confined space, followed by a rush of cooler air that carried strange new scents—earth and stone and something wild that defied description.

Another crack, and light filtered through the breach—dim and diffuse, but shocking after so long in darkness. The peaceful cocoon was breaking down, the shelter of suspended existence giving way to urgent, insistent life. Muscles that hadn't existed in the void flexed instinctively, pushing against the weakening barrier.

Around him, other cracking sounds echoed through the darkness. Through the growing fissures in whatever enclosed him, Remi caught glimpses of movement—dark shapes breaking free from similar oval enclosures, emerging into a world that smelled of earth and ancient stone. Their movements were confident, instinctive, as if they'd always known exactly how to break free from these shell-like prisons.

The urgency to join them built like a wave. This wasn't like fighting through the paralysis of a nightmare or the heavy lethargy of oversleeping. This was something deeper, more primal—a cellular knowledge of exactly how to move, how to push, how to break free of this shell that had been sanctuary and prison.

With a final decisive crack, the shell split. Cool air rushed in, bringing with it a flood of sensations too intense to process. The ground beneath him was rough stone, worn smooth in places by the passage of massive bodies. The air carried layers of scent—mineral and organic, ancient and new, all mixing together in a symphony his brain struggled to decode.

As his vision cleared, Remi became aware of his body—a body both familiar and utterly foreign. Pale skin, still damp from the egg's interior, felt hypersensitive to every brush of air. The hands, when he managed to lift them, were smaller than he remembered, belonging to someone much younger than he had been. And the hair that fell forward into view was a startling shade of rust-red he had never worn before. Something felt different—wrong?—about his body, but in the overwhelming flood of sensations, he couldn't quite grasp what had changed.

Movement drew his attention. five strange creatures were already exploring their surroundings on sturdy legs. Unlike his human form, they were like nothing he had ever seen before: six-legged beings with bodies built low to the ground, covered in overlapping brown scales that seemed to shift color slightly with each movement. Their tails ended in heavy, mace-like clubs that they swung with increasing confidence as they moved about.

One of them noticed him watching and turned to study him with eyes that held an intelligence far beyond what he would have expected from a newly hatched creature. It made a sound—not quite a growl, not quite a chirp—that seemed to vibrate through his bones.

Then everything shifted as something massive descended from above. An enormous head, larger than any creature Remi had ever seen, moved into view. It was covered in brown scales worn into subtle patterns of ridges and whorls, suggesting immense age. Ancient gold eyes, each larger than Remi's entire head, fixed upon him with an awareness that seemed to peer straight into his soul.

Remi's first instinct was raw terror. Every muscle tensed, preparing to flee from this impossibly huge creature. But something deeper than instinct held him in place—a strange, inexplicable sense of recognition that transcended conscious thought. Despite all logic screaming at him to run, he felt safe. He felt... home.

The great head moved closer, and a tongue longer than Remi's entire body flicked out to gently clean away the last of the egg fluid. The sensation should have been terrifying or disgusting, but instead it felt right—a familiar comfort he hadn't known he was missing.

One of the creatures bumped against his side, nearly knocking him over. Another made that strange chirping growl, which seemed somehow welcoming despite its alien nature. They accepted his presence without question, seeing nothing strange about this two-legged being in their midst, so different from their own six-legged, armored forms.

Remi's mind struggled to make sense of it all. He remembered being someone else—a high school student with homework and family drama and social anxiety. He remembered the train tracks, the stranger's reach, the moment of transition. But those memories felt increasingly distant, like a story he'd read about someone else.

This was real now: the cool stone beneath his feet, the lingering dampness on his skin, the presence of these strange creatures who seemed to accept him as one of their own, and above all, the watchful protection of the massive being above them. Whatever he had been before, he was here now—reborn into something entirely new and utterly beyond his previous understanding.

One of the young creatures tugged at his arm with a clawed limb, urging him to join their exploration. Remi took a hesitant step, then another, learning the balance of this younger body. The massive being above them rumbled—a sound that vibrated through the stone itself—not words exactly, but somehow Remi understood it as approval and protection.

As Remi moved into the loose circle of the young creatures, their chirps and growls surrounding him like welcome, he felt the last threads of his old identity begin to dissolve. He wasn't exactly Remi anymore, but he wasn't sure what he was becoming. Everything familiar had slipped away, replaced by something alien and incomprehensible, yet somehow feeling right. He was lost between what he had been and what he was now, with no idea of what that might mean.

The massive creature settled onto its haunches, watching its strange brood with ancient, knowing eyes. Whatever Remi was, whatever he would become, he was part of this group now. He was family. He was home.

And in the deep caves beneath the mountain, as six young beings began the first tentative steps of their new existence, the wheel of destiny turned just a fraction further toward a future none of them could yet imagine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Chapter 11

So, I put all three chapters into one for this one because of BC’s upload system. They’re very short, meant to be read individually, but it works here this way best to upload.

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TTFN Everyone.

Weeks passed in a blur of new sensations and instincts. The large cave where they had hatched remained their primary shelter, its winding tunnels and chambers offering protection from the elements and potential threats. However, it was the expansive mountainside clearing just outside the cave entrance that became the center of their daily activities—a natural amphitheater of stone and earth surrounded by ancient pines that served as their playground of discovery. The family moved easily between these spaces, retreating to the cave's depths for sleep and safety while spending daylight hours in the sun-warmed clearing, where the dragons could partially burrow into the mineral-rich soil.
Each day brought fresh understanding of this strange new existence.

The full extent of the transformation became impossible to ignore in those early days. Unclothed since emerging from the egg, Remi had at first been too overwhelmed by the general strangeness of the situation to fully process the physical changes. But as the initial shock wore off, personal inspection revealed something shocking—this body was remarkably small and young. Where Remi had once been a senior in high school, this form was tiny, like a child of no more than six years old. Miniature hands and feet, short limbs, and a small frame—everything had been drastically reduced. The discovery was disorienting, like suddenly being trapped in a kindergartener's body. Moving felt completely different—lighter and less coordinated, without the strength and reach she'd once had. Even simple tasks required relearning as she adapted to this younger form's limited capabilities.

The weeks that followed brought another surprise: rapid growth. She seemed to be maturing at an accelerated rate, her body stretching and developing far faster than any human child's would. What had begun as a six-year-old's form was already showing signs of approaching pre-adolescence, growing several inches taller with more defined features and improved coordination. Mother seemed unsurprised by this development, treating it as perfectly normal for a hatchling's first weeks.

The initial panic had given way to a strange acceptance, aided perhaps by the complete lack of concern from what Remi had come to think of as siblings. They weren't what she'd expected dragons to look like—no wings, six legs instead of four, bodies built low to the ground with heavy armor-like scales and those distinctive mace-ended tails. At first glance, they reminded her of dinosaurs from natural history books, like six-legged ankylosaurs with their armored bodies and weapon-like tails. But that comparison quickly fell short. These creatures were far too intelligent, too aware, too fantastical to be mere prehistoric reptiles. Their heads were unmistakably draconic—elongated snouts with powerful jaws, ridged brows over bright, expressive eyes, and small horn-like protrusions along their jawlines. The way they tilted their heads when curious or flared their nostrils when sensing something interesting revealed a depth of expression no dinosaur could have possessed. Their eyes held a consciousness that no fossil record could capture, and their other features—the distinctive scale patterns, the specialized front limbs designed for digging, the way their scales shifted color slightly with different light—only confirmed their draconic nature. There was an intelligence in their movements that spoke of something far beyond mere animals. To them, Remi was simply Remi, and matters like gender or appearance seemed as irrelevant as the number of limbs they each possessed. The mother dragon's gentle presence had helped too, her acceptance absolute and unconditional.

Now, as days turned to weeks, Remi's body was slowly becoming familiar. The rust-red hair had grown wild and untamed, matching the primal environment of their mountain home. The younger feminine form moved with increasing confidence through their territory, from the sheltering cave to the protected clearing beyond, each day bringing greater comfort with this new identity.

The dragon siblings, whom Remi had initially seen as strange six-legged creatures, had become family in every sense that mattered. Their bodies had grown remarkably since hatching, already reaching sizes that would have seemed impossible. Their scales, initially a uniform brown, had developed subtle patterns unique to each individual, like fingerprints etched in living armor.

They communicated through a complex language of growls, chirps, and body movements that Remi was gradually learning to interpret. It wasn't exactly speech—more like a dance of intention and emotion that bypassed the need for words. When they played, wrestling and chasing across the rocky clearing and through the towering pines, Remi found herself responding to cues she didn't consciously understand, moving in perfect synchronization with her adoptive siblings.

The massive presence of Mother—for Remi had come to think of the great brown dragon in exactly those terms—was a constant comfort. She kept watch over their territory, her bulk often half-buried in the earth of the clearing as she monitored her brood. Her occasional forays into the surrounding wilderness always brought new scents clinging to her scales: pine forests, mountain streams, distant meadows. Sometimes she would return with food, though Remi noticed the dragon siblings seemed to need surprisingly little sustenance. They appeared to draw energy directly from the earth itself, spending long hours half-buried in the mineral-rich soil of the clearing, their bodies absorbing nourishment through direct contact with the ground.

Remi's own hunger was different, more conventional. Mother seemed to understand this, bringing her softer foods that her human form could manage: fresh-killed rabbits, fish from mountain streams, wild fruits and berries when available. The first time she had dropped a still-warm rabbit at her feet, Remi had hesitated, her human sensibilities rebelling. But hunger and instinct had won out, and she'd learned to accept these offerings with gratitude.

Father made occasional appearances, emerging from where he burrowed in the surrounding earth. His presence was different from Mother's—less nurturing, more evaluative. He would watch their play with ancient eyes that seemed to see far more than mere physical forms, then sink back into the ground as if becoming one with the earth itself.

Physical changes were becoming apparent in Remi's form as well. Her skin had toughened, becoming more resilient to rough stone and constant contact with her scaled siblings. Her night vision had improved dramatically, allowing her to see clearly even in the depths of the cave. Most remarkably, she found herself developing an innate sense of the earth around them, always aware of the nest's location, as if some internal compass had awakened.

But the most profound changes were harder to define. The memories of her previous life—high school, family conflicts, social anxieties—felt increasingly distant, like a half-remembered dream. The immediacy of this new existence, with its primal rhythms and instinctive bonds, was replacing those old concerns with something simpler and somehow more real.

There were moments, usually in the quiet hours when her siblings were earth-sleeping in the clearing, when Remi would try to make sense of what she had become. She was neither fully human nor dragon, caught between two worlds in a way that should have been distressing but instead felt strangely right. Mother's acceptance was absolute, treating her as one of her own despite her obvious differences. The siblings showed no awareness that she was different, including her in their games and social interactions as if her two-legged form was perfectly natural.
 
 
One morning—though time was becoming increasingly fluid in their mountain domain—Remi found herself studying her reflection in a pool of crystal-clear water. The face that looked back was younger than her previous self, perhaps twelve or thirteen, with delicate features that seemed to blend human and something else. The rust-red hair had grown past her shoulders, tangled and wild, with an almost flame-like quality in the dim light. The eyes, when she looked closely, had developed a slight golden tinge around the pupils.

A sibling's chirp drew her attention away from the reflection. They had developed a game of hide and seek that took advantage of their ability to partially bury themselves in the earth, becoming nearly invisible against the cave floor. Remi had learned to spot the subtle signs of their presence—a slightly different texture to the stone, a faint warmth radiating from seemingly solid ground.

As she moved to join the game, Remi felt a deep contentment settle over her. Whatever she had been before, whatever she was becoming now, she was home. The primal simplicity of this existence, the unconditional acceptance of her new family, the growing understanding of their unique way of life—it all felt right in a way her previous life never had.

Mother's rumble of approval vibrated through the stone as Remi successfully located a hidden sibling, her ancient eyes watching their play with what she had come to recognize as pride. Here, in this realm of earth and stone, a new kind of being was emerging—not quite human, not quite dragon, but something entirely unique.

As the weeks turned into months, Remi began to notice subtle changes in the dynamics of their little family. The siblings, while still playful, were showing signs of growing independence. Their games became more complex, involving strategic thinking and coordination that went beyond simple chase and wrestle. They would work together to create elaborate hiding spots, combining their earth-moving abilities to craft temporary burrows and tunnels.

Remi found herself developing new abilities as well. While she couldn't manipulate earth like her siblings, she discovered a growing sensitivity to vibrations in the ground. She could often sense the approach of Father long before he emerged, feeling the subtle changes in the earth's texture that signaled his movement through the stone. This newfound awareness extended to her siblings' locations as well—even when they were buried and hidden from sight, she could often pinpoint their positions by the faint disturbances they created in the surrounding earth.
Mother seemed pleased with these developments. Her watchful presence remained constant, but she began allowing her brood more freedom to explore the outer reaches of their territory. She would sometimes lead them on short expeditions through the surrounding forest and up the mountain slopes, teaching them to recognize the subtle markers that defined the boundaries of their domain. They learned the safe paths between the ancient pines, the sheltered hollows where prey gathered, and the high rocky outcrops that offered views of the valleys below.
During one such expedition, they encountered their first genuine threat. A strange scent carried on the wind—something alien and predatory that set all their instincts on alert. Mother's reaction was immediate and fierce, herding her brood back toward the safety of their clearing while positioning herself between them and the unknown danger. Father emerged from the earth with unprecedented speed, joining Mother in a defensive formation that spoke of long practice and perfect coordination.

The threat passed without materializing, but the incident left a lasting impression on Remi. It was her first real glimpse of the dangers that existed in this new world, and of the fierce protective instincts of their dragon parents. It also marked a subtle shift in how the siblings related to each other. Their play took on protective elements, focused more on watching out for each other. Even in their games, they began taking turns standing guard while others rested or fed.

Each day brought new discoveries as Remi's understanding of her dragon family deepened. There was still much to learn about their ways, their history, and her place among them. As she watched her siblings burrow into the earth for their evening rest, she wondered what new adventures tomorrow might bring in this mountain territory they called home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter:

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Sunlight filtered through the ancient pines surrounding their clearing, casting dappled shadows across Remi's unclothed skin as she crouched behind a weathered boulder. In the weeks since emerging from the egg, her body had matured to that of a twelve-year-old, though such human concerns as clothing had long since ceased to matter in her day-to-day life with her dragon siblings. Her toughened skin had adapted to the elements, comfortable against both rough stone and mountain air.

The mountain breeze carried the scent of warm stone and sun-heated pine needles, mixed with the earthy musk of her dragon siblings. A gentle wind stirred the loose strands of her rust-red hair, now grown long enough to provide some natural coverage as it tangled around her shoulders. From her hiding spot, she could feel her siblings' movements through the earth—each one distinct and familiar in ways that had led her to give them names that suited their natures.

The steady presence always closest to her position belonged to the one she simply called "Brother." He'd earned the name through his constant vigilance, the way he'd positioned himself between her and any perceived threat since their first days after hatching. Even now, she could sense him deliberately maintaining a protective orbit around her hiding spot, his six-legged form ready to intercede if their play grew too rough. His scales had developed a deeper brown coloring than the others, with patterns that reminded her of mountain ridges seen from above.

Forge's heavy presence resonated through the ground as he stalked past her position. She'd named him for his strength and the way he seemed to shape the earth itself with his powerful limbs, like a blacksmith molding metal. His massive tail club had developed pronounced ridges that could leave impressive craters in the rocky ground when he chose to demonstrate his strength. Currently, he was trying to move with uncharacteristic stealth, though his substantial weight made true silence impossible for Remi's earth-attuned senses.

Flint's lighter touch rippled through the soil as he tried to circle around behind—his name earned from his sharp intelligence and the spark-like quickness of his movements. Of all her siblings, he seemed most fascinated by the world beyond their clearing, often spending hours watching the patterns of sunlight through the trees or tracking the movement of small animals at the forest's edge. His scales held a hint of amber when the light caught them just right, and his movements always carried a note of curiosity.

Her sisters had developed their own distinct characteristics—Slate's scales had taken on a smooth, gray-blue sheen like fine stone, while Ember's determination burned steady and warm like banked coals. The two females were as different in personality as they were similar in their protective attitudes toward their human sister. Slate preferred to observe situations before acting, often finding the most efficient solution to any challenge. Ember, true to her name, could be counted on to maintain her position or pursuit long after the others might have given up.

She'd given them all names, though she knew they couldn't understand human speech. To them, her words were merely sounds, no different from their chirps and growls—a form of communication they recognized but couldn't comprehend. The names were for her benefit alone, a way to organize her thoughts about each distinctive personality in the clutch. Sometimes Remi wondered if they had names for each other in their own way—patterns of movement and vibration that she was only beginning to sense but couldn't yet interpret.

Their current game had evolved from simple hide and seek into something more complex, incorporating elements of strategy that mimicked hunting behaviors Remi had observed in their mother. The objective wasn't merely to remain hidden, but to successfully "ambush" the others while avoiding detection oneself. It required patience, timing, and an understanding of how each sibling would react—skills that seemed increasingly important as they grew larger and more capable.

Remi had learned to use her differences to her advantage. While she couldn't burrow into the earth like her siblings, her smaller size and two-legged agility allowed her to utilize hiding spots they couldn't access. She'd also discovered that her growing sensitivity to earth-movements gave her a unique edge. Unlike her siblings, who relied primarily on direct sensory input, she seemed able to synthesize multiple vibrations into a complete picture of everyone's locations.

A subtle shift in the ground's vibrations told her that Forge was about to pass close to her position again. His concentration on trying to move quietly had made him less aware of his surroundings—a perfect opportunity. Remi tensed, timing her movement carefully.

"I see you, big guy," she whispered, more for her own amusement than any tactical advantage. Even after weeks of living with her dragon siblings, she hadn't lost the habit of verbal communication. The young dragon's head tilted slightly at the sound of her voice, registering it simply as another sound from his strange two-legged clutchmate. Though Forge couldn't understand her words, he responded to her tone.

Just as his broad, armored form began to turn away, she sprang from her hiding spot. "Gotcha!" she crowed triumphantly, launching herself onto his back with practiced ease. Her fingers found purchase between his scales as she clung to him, prompting a surprised chirp that carried notes of both annoyance and amusement.

"Oh, you are not getting away that easily," Remi laughed as Forge tried to shake her off, her voice bright with excitement. The protective sibling she thought of as Brother rumbled encouragingly as Slate and Ember joined the growing play session. Their reactions fascinated her—they read her emotional state from her tone and movements, just as she was learning to interpret their vocalizations.

The smallest dragon circled around, trying to cut off her escape route when she finally dismounted from Forge. "Trying to be sneaky, are you?" she called out to Flint, grinning as he responded with a chirp that somehow managed to sound indignant. "Yes, I saw you coming. You're not as stealthy as you think!"

Her siblings had grown accustomed to her verbal commentary during their play, responding to her emotional tone and body language with sounds that matched her energy.

The game immediately shifted. Ember and Slate emerged from their positions, rushing to join what was now becoming a wrestling match. Remi rolled away from Forge's playful tail swipe, tumbling across the rocky ground that no longer hurt her toughened skin. Flint's presence reverberated through the earth as he moved to cut off her escape route, all five siblings now fully engaged in their favorite form of play.

Then everything changed.

The first warning came through the ground itself. The familiar patterns of her siblings' movements suddenly shifted, their playful vibrations becoming sharp and erratic. A new sensation rippled through the earth—something massive yet wrong, its movements lacking the natural rhythm of their dragon parents.

"Something's coming," Remi whispered, her voice tight with sudden tension. Brother shifted closer, reacting to her change in posture and tone. "This isn't right... this isn't like Mom or Dad..."

The mother dragon was absent, having departed earlier to patrol the outer boundaries of their territory. The father dragon's presence was a distant whisper in the earth, too far to respond quickly. They were alone.

One of her siblings—Forge, the most physically robust of the clutch—let out a warning chirp that sent the others scrambling for cover. "Forge sees it too," Remi muttered, her voice shaking slightly as she grabbed a fallen branch, her body moving with instincts she hadn't known she possessed. The rough bark against her toughened palms felt reassuring, even as her mind raced to process the approaching threat.

It emerged from between the ancient pines like a nightmare given form. "Oh god," Remi breathed, her voice catching in her throat. "What is that thing?" The creature defied natural description—a twisted mass of limbs and angles that seemed to hurt the eye, its movements simultaneously fluid and wrong. It brought with it an odor of deep earth and decay, but not the healthy decay of forest floors. This was the rot of things that should never see daylight.

"Stay together," she found herself saying, the tremor in her voice betraying her fear even as she tried to sound confident for her siblings. "Just like Mom showed us. Stay together." The dragon siblings formed a defensive circle, their mace-tipped tails raised in warning. They were already larger than when they'd first hatched, but against this horror, they seemed terrifyingly small. Remi found herself moving to stand with them, the branch held before her like a staff. Her heart pounded with terror, but something deeper than fear kept her in place—a fierce protectiveness for these beings who had become her true family.

"You're not touching them," she growled at the creature, surprised by the dragon-like rumble in her own voice. Brother's answering chirp matched her protective fury, their different sounds merging into what felt like a single declaration of defiance.

The creature moved with uncanny speed. One moment it was at the edge of the clearing, the next it was among them, limbs lashing out with impossible reach. Forge met its attack with surprising courage, his armored scales deflecting the first strike while his tail swung in a powerful counter-attack. Another sibling—Flint, the most curious one—tried to burrow into the earth for safety, but the creature's movements were too quick.

Remi swung her branch, connecting solidly with something that felt both soft and horribly rigid. The impact sent vibrations up her arms, and for a moment she thought she saw the air ripple around the point of contact, as if reality itself objected to the creature's existence.

A horrible sound filled the clearing—not quite a roar, not quite a scream, but something that made Remi's bones ache. The creature's form seemed to shift and flow, and suddenly Flint was in its grasp, caught by something that might have been a tentacle or might have been a limb. The young dragon's terrified chirp cut through Remi's heart like a blade.

Before any of them could react, the creature was moving again, flowing between the trees with its precious cargo. Remi started to give chase, but Forge blocked her path, his body language somehow conveying both protection and warning. The remaining siblings gathered close, their scaled forms pressing against her in a gesture of both comfort and restraint.

The ground suddenly trembled with familiar vibrations—their mother was returning, her movement through the earth faster than Remi had ever sensed before. The air grew thick with an almost electrical tension as the massive dragon erupted from the ground at the clearing's edge.

"Mom!" Remi's cry was raw with desperation. "Mom, it took Flint! The thing—" Her voice cracked as she stumbled forward. "It came from the dark pines—it has Flint!" She found herself reaching out not with words or gestures, but with pure desperate emotion. Images flashed through her mind—the creature's attack, the capture, the direction of retreat. She pushed these thoughts outward with all her strength, driven by raw necessity.

The response nearly overwhelmed her. The mother dragon's consciousness brushed against hers like a tsunami against a shoreline. Images, emotions, and pure draconic fury flooded through the connection. "Oh gods," Remi gasped, her knees buckling. Her next words came out as a strangled whisper: "So much... anger..." She staggered, supported by her remaining siblings as the mental contact threatened to sweep her consciousness away entirely. Brother's sturdy form pressed against her side, his concerned chirp barely registering through the overwhelming tide of their mother's thoughts.

A roar shook the entire mountainside—a sound of such primal rage that the ancient pines trembled. The mother dragon's fury was almost visible, distorting the air like heat waves as she prepared to pursue the creature that had dared take her child.

Only then did Father finally emerge from his apparent napping place, bursting from the earth with a belated show of force. His emergence, though impressive, carried an undertone of shameful urgency—the response of a guardian who had failed in his duty. The mother's quick glance in his direction held something that needed no empathic ability to interpret: pure, burning disappointment.

They moved with perfect coordination, the mother dragon surging forward in pursuit while the father took up a defensive position near the remaining hatchlings. His anger carried an undertone that Remi somehow recognized as being partially directed at himself—frustration at having been too far away when his protection was needed.

As Mother disappeared into the forest, her roar still echoing off the mountainsides, Remi sank to her knees. The brief mental contact had left her shaken, her mind struggling to process what she'd experienced. Her remaining siblings pressed close, offering warmth and comfort as Father's low rumble vibrated through the ground—a promise of protection that needed no translation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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"Come on, come back," Remi whispered, pacing the clearing as Brother watched with evident concern. Her bare feet had long since toughened against the rough stone, but she kept moving more from nervous energy than any real purpose. "Just bring him back safe. Please." Speaking aloud helped maintain some connection to her humanity, even if the words were meant for no one but herself.

The clearing felt eerily quiet in the aftermath of the attack. The remaining siblings—Brother, Forge, Slate, and Ember—had positioned themselves in a defensive formation that spoke of instincts far older than their few weeks of life. Their father remained partially submerged in the earth at an unusually distant position, his massive form creating subtle ripples in the ground that Remi's growing sensitivity could easily track.

"Some guard you turned out to be," Remi muttered, eyeing the father dragon's distant form. She pressed her palm against the sun-warmed stone, focusing on the vibrations that pulsed through the earth. "I can feel you skulking over there, you know. Trying to look busy now that everything's gone wrong." The father dragon's slight shift suggested he could at least interpret her tone, if not her words.

A distant tremor caught her attention—not the smooth rhythm of their mother's movement, but something more chaotic. The father dragon's head lifted slightly, his ancient eyes fixing on the forest's edge. The siblings tensed, their tails raising in unconscious coordination.

"Something's coming," Remi murmured, falling naturally into a crouch between Brother and Forge. "But it feels... different." She could sense multiple patterns of movement, like overlapping ripples in a pond. The father dragon's low rumble carried notes of recognition rather than alarm, though he maintained his defensive posture.

The mother dragon emerged from the forest with deliberate grace, her massive form moving with surprising delicacy for her size. In her jaws, held with infinite gentleness, was Flint's battered but living form. She placed him down with exquisite care, then began the process of cleaning his wounds with her massive tongue.

"Flint!" Remi's cry was equal parts relief and concern. She started forward, but Brother's tail blocked her path—a gentle reminder to wait. The mother's work needed to be completed first, ancient instincts taking precedence over emotional reunions.

Remi forced herself to stay still, though she couldn't help providing running commentary: "Easy there, buddy. Let Mom fix you up. You're going to be okay." Her voice cracked slightly. "You scared us pretty bad, you know that? What were you thinking, trying to burrow when that thing was so close?"

The mother dragon's work was methodical and thorough. Whatever injuries Flint had sustained seemed to respond to her ministrations—whether through some property of her saliva or simply the comfort of maternal care, his breathing steadied and his trembling gradually ceased.

Only when the mother dragon finally stepped back did the siblings move forward as one, surrounding their wounded brother with chirps and gentle nudges. Remi joined them, her hands finding the spaces between Flint's scales that she knew he enjoyed having scratched. "There's my curious boy," she said softly. "No more solo adventures, okay? We stick together from now on."

The mother dragon's sudden growl cut through the moment of reunion. Her head turned toward the father dragon with a sharpness that made even Remi flinch. The growl carried notes of pure fury, accompanied by forceful mental images that even Remi could interpret: patrol-guard-protect, repeated with increasing intensity. The message was clear - if he couldn't properly guard the clutch while resting, he could make himself useful by patrolling their territory instead.

The father dragon's form seemed to shrink slightly under her fierce glare before he extracted himself from the earth and slunk away into the forest, properly chastised. Remi could feel the vibrations of his movement growing more distant as he began what would clearly be a long night of enforced vigilance.

"Wow," Remi breathed, watching her father's retreat. "Guess some things really are universal. Dad—my old dad—he used to get the silent treatment too. Though Mom never actually sent him out of the house to do perimeter checks." She shifted position, leaning against Brother's warm scales as she processed the family drama unfolding around them.

The memory of her human mother's disappointment surfaced unexpectedly sharp and clear—one particular afternoon when Rachel had broken something valuable and Remi had taken the blame. That same mix of hurt and protective instinct felt surprisingly relevant now, watching her dragon mother's fierce defense of her clutch.

"At least dragon moms are direct about it," Remi continued, her voice dropping to barely more than a whisper. "No passive-aggressive sighs or 'I just think it's interesting that...' Human mom was big on those. Though I guess technically she still is. Present tense. She's still out there somewhere, isn't she? In that other world..."

Brother nudged her gently, perhaps sensing her emotional turmoil. "Thanks, big guy. Don't worry, I'm not having regrets. Just thinking about how families work. Like, Dad—dragon dad—he messed up, yeah. He should have been more alert. But Mom's reaction... it's not just about him sleeping through the attack, is it? It's about trust. About knowing someone is supposed to protect you and then they don't."

As the sun began to set behind the mountain peaks, casting long shadows through the ancient pines, Remi found herself watching Slate and Ember's reactions. Despite their own evident disappointment in their father, they kept shooting worried glances toward the forest where he'd disappeared. "Some things stay complicated no matter what," she mused. "They're mad at him too, but they still care. Just like Rachel used to get mad at me but would still stick up for me when Dad was being particularly rough."

She hadn't thought about her sister in what felt like ages. The memory brought a complex mix of emotions: annoyance at Rachel's dramatic tendencies, appreciation for those moments of unexpected loyalty, worry about how she was handling whatever had happened to Remi in that other world. "I wonder if she misses me. If she knows what happened. Or if time even works the same way between here and there..."

The mother dragon's tail curved more protectively around the clutch, responding perhaps to the melancholy in Remi's voice. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," Remi assured her, reaching out to pat the nearest scaled surface. "Just figuring out how to be part of two different kinds of family. Or, well, how to remember one while being part of another. It's complicated. But then again, when is family ever not complicated?"

The night settled around them, the clearing quiet except for the soft sounds of breathing and occasional chirps from the siblings. Flint had drifted into a healing sleep, the others arranged protectively around him. The mother dragon's massive form curved around them all, her protective presence now the clutch's sole guardian. In the distance, Remi could occasionally feel the vibrations of their father's patrol through the earth—a constant reminder of his punishment detail.

As Remi began to drift toward sleep herself, cushioned by Brother's warm scales, she felt the mother dragon's consciousness brush against hers—the lightest of touches, carrying impressions of safety-warmth-family that required no translation. She smiled, letting the contact wash over her. She was changing, becoming something neither fully human nor fully dragon, but perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. Perhaps she was becoming exactly what she needed to be.

The next morning brought a subtle shift in the clutch's dynamics. Flint's recovery became a focal point of their collective attention, with each sibling taking turns checking on him. Remi noticed how their communication had become more nuanced—a complex language of chirps, tail movements, and barely perceptible earth vibrations that conveyed more information than words ever could.

Flint's experience had changed him. The once-curious dragon who would eagerly explore the edges of their territory now stayed closer to the center, his movements more cautious. Remi recognized the signs of trauma—the same hesitation she'd seen in bullied classmates back in her human life. "Hey," she found herself saying softly, running her fingers between Flint's scales in the spot she knew he found comforting, "you're safe now. We've got you."

The mother dragon observed everything with her ancient, gold-flecked eyes. Remi was beginning to understand that her watchfulness wasn't just about physical protection, but a deeper form of healing. When the siblings became too anxious or Flint too withdrawn, she would emit a low rumble that seemed to reset their emotional state—a frequency that vibrated through the ground and into their very being.

Remi's own sensitivity to these vibrations continued to grow. She discovered she could now differentiate between the emotional states of her dragon family—Brother's protective hum, Forge's steady groundedness, Slate's analytical calm, and Ember's burning determination. Flint's current emotional signature was a mix of fear and a desperate attempt to return to his previous curious self.

During one of the quieter moments, as the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the pine trees, Remi found herself wondering about communication. "I wonder if I could..." she muttered, pressing her palm against the ground and focusing on Flint. She wasn't sure what she was attempting—some hybrid of the empathic communication she'd seen the mother dragon use and her own human language.

To her surprise, a fragmented image flickered through her mind. A flash of the forest, the terror of the attack, but also an underlying current of defiance. Flint wasn't broken—he was processing, learning, adapting. Remi gasped, drawing the attention of her siblings and the mother dragon.

"I think I just... talked to him?" she said aloud, more to herself than anyone else. "Not with words. But with... something else."

The mother dragon's head tilted, those massive golden eyes fixed on Remi with an intensity that suggested she was seeing something far beyond the physical form before her. Another mental brush—gentler this time—pressed against Remi's consciousness. Approval. Curiosity. Something that felt like recognition.

Brother nudged closer, his scaled form a constant source of comfort. Remi leaned against him, her rust-red hair tangling with his brown scales. "We're becoming something new," she whispered. "All of us."

The father dragon remained at the periphery, his earlier shame transformed into a vigilant patrol. Remi could feel his movements through the earth—methodical, precise, determined to prove his worth to the mother dragon and the clutch. His absence during the attack still hung in the air, an unspoken tension that would take time to fully resolve.

As evening approached, Remi noticed something else changing. Flint's curiosity was slowly returning. Where he had previously huddled close to the center of their group, he now began to peek toward the forest's edge. His movements were more tentative, but the spark that had defined him was not extinguished—merely tempered.

"You're going to be okay," Remi murmured, more to herself than to Flint. She understood something about survival now—about how trauma changes you, but doesn't define you. Her own transformation was proof of that.

The mother dragon's tail curved protectively around the clutch as night began to fall. In the growing darkness, Remi felt the boundaries between herself and her dragon family blurring further. She was becoming something neither fully human nor fully dragon—a bridge between worlds, a new kind of being entirely.

And somewhere in the depths of the mountain, as the earth continued its ancient rhythms, a transformation was taking root that would eventually reshape the very understanding of what it meant to be family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter:

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Mirror Changed – Chapter 01
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through most of the world many people have commented that fast food places are really all the same. The same basic concept and layout. Whether it is burgers or tacos or pizza they all share the same formulaic approach. The same waiting in lines. The same grease. Whether inside or out in the car. The same basic eating areas, and if you are lucky the same indoor children’s play places. Sitting down to eat in one of them contained so much of the sameness that to eat in one you could feel like you had eaten in them all.

It was this sameness that was what people craved. Similarity and Conformity. Comfort. Not because it was actually comfortable, or for that matter even pleasant. It was comfortable because it all contained what a person could expect. The comfort of knowing how the whole process worked without having to learn anything new.

No matter whether the person was a customer or they stood behind the counter. Or at least that was what I had told myself so that I could deal with the shear drudgery of my job. There really was a comfort in knowing what to expect I suppose. Not because it was enjoyable, because it most definitely was not. No matter how much I smiled or engaged the endless throng of people. Take my register as an example. From the customers side it looked new and sparkling clean. They didn’t see the keypad though. The buttons worn down from countless repetitive depressions. Much like the people working here, like myself and my coworkers.

All smiling façade and attempted pleasantries.

The specific buttons for specials were the worst. I could never understand why management insisted on keeping the same new combo’s on the same row year after year without replacing the keys. So that us register monkeys just had to mash the worn down buttons harder and harder until something gave. The whole set had to be replaced just to fix one button. So we just prayed that it went out on someone else’s shift because woe be to the person who reported it to management. It was not our fault to have the technology pushed so far past its service life after all.

Perhaps it was just my lot in life. To be a register service attendant in whatever service job would have me. At least until I was replaced by a kiosk or something. I had barely passed high school. Not because it was hard, rather it was so very boring. I wasn’t anything exceptional either. Just a run of the mill gamer geek. I had some friends, not many though. Probably the only thing we had in common was a console or two.

When I looked at myself in the mirror I still saw the same thing I had seen for years. Light colored complexion, not fully white Anglo Saxon, not exactly the olive tint of the Mediterranean. Nor any of the darker skins of a person of Hispanic origin. Just a standard Heinz fifty seven Caucasian mix. Sandy brown hair that was thick and soft. It never seemed to take to any styling. Not even the bed head that seemed to be so popular… again. So I kept it short…. ish. I kind of kept forgetting to get it cut so it was usually too long or too short to style.

Right now it was smack dab in the awkward zone. Just like me. The only nice thing that my friends, few left that they were, commented on regularly was my eyes. They told me that they were a deep blue grey, like a deep stormy sea. I personally just felt that they were a murky blue.

Like the fast food restaurants being all the same, so was my life. I felt bored. Today I was bored, yesterday I was bored, tomorrow? Tomorrow I would likely be bored. Hell, it seemed that I had become so adept at feeling bored that I could list it on my resume as a job skill.

There was a comfort in that as well I guess.

Not that today, or this shift was actually boring. Nope, things were too busy to allow for that. What with the constant ‘Yes Ma’am, would you like to upsize that sir, how about a combo, and all the Here’s your receipt’. Then there’s my personal favorite ‘Sorry, we don’t sell that here’. Whatever ‘that’ turns out to be. Us register apes sometimes compare notes on the best ones. We even had a pool going on it until the manager found out and shot it down.

High school graduation was supposed to be the first major door closing on my life to open many bigger and better doors of opportunity.

Not for me.

Instead I end up working the same jobs, having the same friends, still pining for the same things that were always so far beyond my grasp.

I take that back. There was one MAJOR and Wonderful change. I had finally been able to move out of my dads place. The drunken old bastard had given up on life a long time ago. It had been just the two of us since Mom had up and left. I don’t know why she left. There was no note or reason. Just one day she was there and the next she was not. She and Dad had never really gotten along. He told me they had only stayed together because of me. Dad did the obligatory searching and police reports he was supposed to after she had left.

A couple of years ago he had declared her legally dead so that he could collect the life insurance.

That was when he quit his job. His alcoholism was at least tolerable when he had to be sober for work. Without his job he just climbed right down the throat of that damned bottle. I didn’t understand how someone could do that and still stay alive. I wished to do things with my life. To be someone, to do something. Now just two years later I was beginning to understand. A few months ago I had finally saved up enough to move into a rund down studio apartment near to where I worked. The first months, last months, security, and utilities took everything I had. But I was out of his house. Gone from underneath his thumb.

I could not have left fast enough.

It was supposed to be the start of a new and prosperous life.

Then the routine had started.

The routine of having to work full time and more just to keep the rent paid. To keep the utilities on. I was lucky at the end of each paycheck to have enough to buy a pair of pants or one console game. At least I still had my friends. Those that hadn’t moved off to collage at any rate.

Many times when I am working my mind travelled inwards. Like right now. It was a way to deal with the tedium. To go to a place where maybe I had gone off to collage. Or perhaps played sports. If I had been able to do so I would have left the area.

Not that living just North of Seattle Washington was such a bad place. It was a great place for a nineteen year old loser teen to live. However it was the only place I knew. I could do with some change. Any change.

My contemplation was cut short when a pretty girl standing in front of my register didn’t hold to the normal fast food attendant script.

“Jayde.” She was visibly exasperated. “Wake Up! Earth calling Mr. Roboto.”

From her tone I gathered she had repeated herself at least a time or two.

I broke out of my fugue state enough to recognize that number one – she was the last in line, and that number two – it was my friend Suzi. One of my best, and really only friends. We had grown up a few houses down from each other. In her younger years she had been a tomboy, always running around with unkempt hair and skinned knees. It wasn’t until puberty hit her with a huge bat that I had even known that she was a girl.

Her lack of regular fashion continued to this day. Suzi dressed up however she wanted to dress. As often as not in partial cosplay costume or in shockingly counter culture outfits.

Today her sneakers had seen better times, worn and marker doodled. Ripped stylish jeans frayed beyond the normal point showing more skin than denim on her left leg. A tight midriff showing t-shirt with the latest pop band that for the life of me I could not remember emblazoned across the bust. Tummy showing the nearly obligatory parental defying belly button piercing. A stylish leather jacket over it all. Actually current fashion I think, but I could always be wrong.

Suzi’s hair was punked out today. Spiky jet black with purple and shock pink highlights. The contrast between her hair and porcelain whit skin made her cornflower blue eyes pop so vibrantly that I felt my breath taken away at just the sight. A vibrant electricity that never failed to draw me in.

I am sure that I stood there blinking like some kind of special education kid for far too long. “Sorry… did I ask if you wanted that in a combo again?”

At her nod I cringed. I hated looking like an idiot in front of her.

“Don’t be such a dumbshit, dumbshit.” She said in a deadpan tone. “C’mon, how long till you’re off?”

“Not sure. I think when I’m scheduled to.” I know I was usually a clueless literal person, but sometimes I enjoyed playing it up.

Her half lidded stare told me that she did not consider me the smartest protozoa in the petri-dish right now. After a couple moments of the impasse she let out a sigh through pursed lips. It puffed her cheeks a bit. I really enjoyed how even the smallest of her actions were so expressive.

“Sorry, I don’t know what time it is.” Maybe being too literal right now wasn’t the best idea.

About then, with good sitcom timing, my manager exited his office. He wore the same outfit I did, though it was a bit cleaner and with a managers tag. Oh, it also didn’t have the apron. It really looked like so many of the fast food managers tag and shirt in every place I had ever worked or seen.

He looked over at me for a moment before walking back to the prep area without saying a word. That of course ruined the sitcom moment. No interaction, just the humdrum of real life. This wasn’t some type of friendly people episode or apartment bachelor life. Nope just the standardized cookie cutter of existence I found myself living in. Nothing more than a fleshy cog in the works of society.

“Jayde….”

Suzi was tapping her foot in annoyance now. I think I had mentally wandered off again.

“Sorry. I think I’m supposed to be off at six or so.”

“Why look at that.” She pointed at a clock on the wall that I seemed to keep forgetting is there whenever I spaced out. “It’s six p.m. already.”

I looked over feeling a rush of energy. The type one can only feel when at the end of the daily grind. Freeing oneself to pursue something much more enjoyable.

Doing my best not to let out a whoop of joy I went back to the rear of the prep area. A couple of my coworkers were figuring out the latest hybrid concoction that the franchise corporate marketing had thought up. Some form of burrito pizza thing that we all hoped would fizzle.

The things were a nightmare to put together. Far to messy.

“Don? Hey, it’s six. Can I clock out?” I asked as soon as I got to where he had gotten off to.

He was in the security and safe room counting out a register. He looked up from what he was doing for just and without a word went back to his count.

Donald was another of the sameness of fast food places. Nondescript mid thirties man running towards fat with short hair showing the signs of male pattern baldness. He may have once been physically fit when he was my age. Now he looked like central castings idea of a failed in life highschool quarterback.

Right now I had to wait him out. Whenever Don got like this it was best to just be patient. No matter how irritated I got when my manager acted so dismissive towards me I still had to keep a pleasant smile plastered to my face. He was the one who authorized my paychecks after all. Did all managers go to a class on how to optimally irritate their employees or something?

Almost two minutes to the second Don finished the count and recorded the amounts into his computer log.

“Yes. You may go now. Tell Becky that she is on register two on your way out.” His voice was dull, seemingly bereft of any care towards me or the job. “I will get your register and count it. You better not be off this time Jim or it will come out of your paycheck.”

Of course. He got my name wrong… Again…

“It’s Jayde, Don. Jayde, not Jim.”

“Whatever. Get out of here. Don’t be late to your next shift.” He handed me Becky’s drawer as he talked.

I didn’t bother to reply to his surly nature. Don’t fee the bears and all that. I went to the drive window where Becky was spelling someone else for a quick break. “Hey, Don says to take register two.”

Drawyer places in her hands I quickly punched out before there were any other distractions. I went out front where Suzi had her smartphone out. She was avidly involved in some app or another.

“Please tell me you’re playing something normal.” I sat down across from her.

“Remove the apron.” She didn’t even bother to look up from her device.

Looking down at myself I saw that I hadn’t’ bothered to even take it off. I really did not like what these places did to me. Once the apron was off and placed on the small table Suzi looked up from the phone. Her dark hair and light complexion caught me off guard again. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it but I counted myself lucky to have a friend like her. Even if that was all we could ever be.

When she started to talk it shocked me out of my moment of introspection.

“It’s an augmented reality first person shooter. I’m just readying my weapons for my next encounter.”

She held up the phone so I could look through the screen. The camera was on because I could see everything past the phone. There was a superimposed status and targeting overlays turning it into a sort of heads up display. Just like many of the first person shooters we played. It looked like all of reality had been turned into the game.

“The game’s currently entering early Beta testing. They asked me to review some of its features.”

“Do you ever play a game outside of Beta or Pre-release?” I knew the answer but in good conscience I still had to ask.

“Why would I ever do that? By that time I’ve already figured everything out.” She kicked her legs out and clasped her hands behind and above her head. The motion popping her chest out and drawing attention to her slim profile. I was pretty sure she did these things on purpose, or they could be subconscious actions from watching too much anime. “Booooooorrrrriiiiinnnnnnggggg…….” She then regained animation and leaned forward placing her hands on the table. “So, ready to hang out with David and the crowd?”

Definitely on purpose.

“Yes!” That would lighten my mood considerably. “What’s tonights agenda?”

“I’ll let that be a surprise.” Suzi got up and walked to the door. I gladly fell into step beside her. “Lets get outta here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 01

Alright! Two main characters introduced!

So, unlike Summoned, Much of this story is told from Jayde’s point of view in first person narrative. I love to experiment with various styles of writing. Please feel free to comment back on anything. I love to find out what beautiful peoples out in the world think.

Mirror Changed – Chapter 02
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

I didn’t really know where I was. I felt that I should know, but for some reason it was just out of my reach. I stood on a barren path of sorts. Rather indistinct. Looking down I saw that I had nothing on, but it felt natural to be that way here.

Where ever here happened to be.

Could I be dreaming? Since I rarely remembered my dreams I had a hard time telling. However there seemed to be very little of … well anything where I found myself. Wasn’t that a hallmark of dream logic?

“Hello?”

No response. Of course. This had to be a dream of sorts, but it felt real. I leaned over to feel the ground with my hands. It was like a fine gravel, not really large pebbles or stones but not quite granulated sand.

“Anybody?”

I stood back up and took a step forward. When I did so I saw something move in the distance to my left. Did the horizon to that side look slightly greener? Not sure what to do I took another step but stayed on the path.

Definitely greener. Sort of like grass or something was attempting to grow. I turned towards it and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

I wasn’t sure how much time I spent there. I also wasn’t sure time had meaning here. Since nothing happened.

“Sure, why the hell not.” Another step would be nice after all.

Soon as I took it the green began to get deeper. I wasn’t sure I should walk towards the green or stay on the path. Undecided I continued on the path for now. That seemed a good choice as the green continued to grow.

Sometime and many steps later trees and shrubs of some types were shooting upwards in the distance. Nothing great yet but something beyond a monotonous horizon.

“What does this mean about my psych?” I wondered aloud as I continued to walk. “Nothing too bad I hope.”

After what I thought was a mile or more the green-scape had turned into a veritable jungle of many intermixed species of flora and fauna. Insects and animals had begun to appear. As well several great trees had grown well beyond the tallest skyscrapers I had ever conceived of. In amongst all the foliage flying creatures began to appear.

“Sure. Why not. A pterodactyl.” The large feathered lizard birds flew in great circles overhead.

The further I walked the more examples of life I saw. It was all so tempting to go and explore. I was still more interested in walking along to see what more may come about. Taking a step into the green felt like a commitment for some reason, so I was hesitant to take that approach regardless.

So intent was I on watching the green that I felt I had missed something on the other side. That something caught my eye. I turned and was almost floored as a primitive city like something out of history books was growing out of the ground like the trees before.

There seemed to be some sort of klaxon sounding off in the distance. An alarm of sorts. Not a gong, not a buzzing siren. Was it coming from the Urban environment?

Whatever it was it was getting louder. Closer. It was almost too loud now. I put my hands over my ears, or tried to anyway. Something had my right hand entangled. I looked down to see a vine holding onto it from the green.

Ok, I felt a bit panicked now. I reached with my left hand to try to free it up. Only to find it encased in an iron manacle holding it to a thick bar in the ground from the city.

This was not a good situation.

Still struggling I lost sight of everything and struggled to stand up. With an effort I managed to press off.

And fell out of bed to faceplant on the floor. Covered in sweat and entangled in soaked blankets.

“Ooooookay then…. That was a bit bizarre.”

My room looked normal. Broken computer collecting dust. Bed on the floor as I couldn’t even afford a bedframe. Bathroom door slightly ajar, I never really closed it. Small hand me down television, one of the early high definition twenty two inch deals. It had several dead pixels but it was free. Pair of couple generations out of date game consoles, their game discs scattered around.

Normal.

I stood up disentangling myself from my bedding.

“What time is it?” The sun came in through my window, telling me it was likely late morning. Perhaps early afternoon? I grabbed my phone and shut off its alarm function. Crap, it said it was three pm.

Great… I had slept almost the entire day away and only had a kookie dream to show for it.

“Shit…”

I was late for work….

Again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Elsewhere~

Inside of a trendy downtown coffee shop in Portland Oregon sat a well dressed young man. Neatly dressed in an old fashioned beige tweed suit complete with porkpie hat. Across from him in the cozy booth sat a taller and much more modernly dressed man.

Both were holding steaming mugs of caffeinated beverages and talking about pointless trivialities like almost all such peoples that could be found in places like this. Midway through their conversation about politics and which pop singer controversy would rise its ugly head the man in the tweed suits phone buzzed.

“One moment Jeremiah.” He said to his darker haired companion.

Jeremiah looked to be in his mid to late twenties and was dressed as something akin to extreme sports punk meets corporate executive. Slacks designed to double as running or skating pants, tight stretchy sleeveless shirt that buttoned up the front and an open vest on top. Leather and metal forearm guards, the left one with a smart watch built into it. All this plus a nose ring to complete his wealthy bad boy look. The dark skin tone from his Hispanic heritage set the whole package to a very enjoyably exotic look.

After a few moments on the phone the younger man hung up. He had a much lighter complexion and close trimmed sandy blonde hair. His blue green eyes made him look almost like a depression era extra on a movie set.

“Angela thinks e may have an awakening about to happen to the North. She’s still busy in Canada though.”

“Joy. I’m guessin she wants us up there Jameson? See what chosen shows up or somewhat?” Despite his relaxed and laid back appearance he sounded completely serious.

“I think only one of us for now. This area’s quiet for now but you never know. I can make my own arrangements and then leave for Washington.”

Jeremiah finished his cup and sat in silence. They listened to the shops sounds and chatter. “So why is she calling you? We’re pretty short handed here on the west coast. Why not get some support from the Rockies or possibly further east?”

“She said only Pierce and RedStar were not immediately tied down with any incidents or projects.”

Both men grimaced a bit. Those two were not what anyone could possibly call… stable. Pierce was a loose cannon that had a tendency to bring out the big guns first and ask questions after the dust settled. RedStar was one of the few natives of North America who had found themselves part of their faction. Unfortunately he was a Navajo who was justifiably phobic of any metro area. How he had come to this path and not another was anyone’s guess.

“No time like the present to shift things around, eh?”

Jameson sat up straight and finished his drink primly before standing to go. “Quite. With that said I bid you adieu. Time to be about it.”

“So formal Jameson.” Jeremiah said teasingly over the rim of his cup. “Seriously, you need a girl in your life. Something at least.”

“My love life is perfectly satisfactory.” He said with a sniff.

“No it isn’t. You need to get laid. It’d really relax you, get all the kinks out and what not.”

Though Jameson looked barely twenty, if even that, his mannerisms were an anachronism throwing back to the prior century. However, Portland being Portland the clean cut man didn’t stick out terribly much.

He did blush at his companions blunt remarks, a most violent tomato coloration to go with his fair skin. “You take too well to this culture Jeremiah. Truly proper social etiquette has fallen far.”

“Oh, you’re just nostalgia-ing on only the highlights of an era. Humans have been swimming in the gutters of pleasure and debauchery for all time. Polite social protocol really only existed in the self important uptight arrogant prigs of history and you know it.”

“Be that as it may, I am perfectly content with the way I am and in the state of my bedroom arrangements.”

“Puritan.”

“Social inebriate.” Jameson fired back with apparent righteous indignation.

“Stick up the ass prude.”

“Inarticulate devolved ape.”

“Now that was a low blow. Come here.” Jeremiah stood up, all teasing gone now. Left in its place was brotherly concern. “Take care, watch out, and call me if there are any problems. I’ll only be a days drive or less away.”

Jameson went over and embraced Jeremiah in a quick hug before pulling back. “I will. Don’t worry, I can take care of my self.”

“I know. You still need to get laid though.”

He only sniffed in annoyed amusement as he let.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

“What you’re saying is that we are better off with a basic living stipend than with better wages?”

“Exactly. You see, with so much automation and computer technologies coming about there will be less and less jobs to go around. So who cares if a burger flipper gets fifteen or even twenty dollars an hour if there are only two or three of those jobs per place instead of twelve to fifteen? There not only has to be enough pay to take care of a person, there also needs to be enough jobs available to take care of those who need a job. Those who want more than just a basic life can always get into a career that brings them up higher.”

I could not completely fault his logic. Sometimes I wonder if my friend Bryan should go into politics, or possibly law. He was about as non-descript as I was. Similar unkept light brown hair, about the same height and weight. Same mixed Caucasian mutt skin, brown eyes instead of my grey blue. The biggest difference I saw was that he filled out his frame so much better than I did. Bryan never had the clumsy and awkward puppy still growing into his paws build that I did. He never looked gangly or otherwise. As well, he was a lot better read than I was.

Today we were walking around the mall that was kind of in the path between both of our places. Still a couple miles apart but an easy time skateboarding to and from it.

We both had our boards today, even considered going to the park later. Right now Bryan wanted to grab a bite to eat. So off to the food court we went.

“I mean, look at all these people.” He continued. “Wouldn’t it be so much simpler?”

“Well I guess so. But who would pay for it?”

“The nations entitlement budget. I mean, it is already paying out close to the amount needed to implement a basic stipend already.”

“Would this ‘B.S.’ have enough left over to buy games?” I enjoyed using air quotes for the BS part. It really sounded that way after all.

“I’d say a percentage of it should be for entertainment. Otherwise people wouldn’t have anything to do.”

We arrived at the food court. All the fare looked tasty, I never really could choose. Well, as long as it wasn’t a taco place. I got enough of those at work already.

It looked like Bryan was winding up for another explanation so instead I pointed at the latest Chinese shop to open up at the mall. “So, Asian? Or something else.”

He looked over at the rest of the shops.

“Hrmmm… yeah, teriyaki sounds good. That or something else similar.”

“Sounds good. So hey, have you played that Mecha capture multi battle game yet? What’s it called?” I snapped my fingers at myself trying to remember.

“You mean GigaBash? Or are you referring to Titan’s Fall? Because the latter came out years ago. If the former Yes, I’m trying to get on the Pro Boards. I think Suzi may be able to help me with that.”

I blushed a bit. I had meant Titan’s Fall. But I really got my release timelines backwards sometimes. Especially since I was often relegated to the discount bins for any game disks I wanted.

Instead of continuing that path I looked up at the menu. “So, luck with that. Let’s order.”

After the mall the week passed really slowly. I actually kind of loved lazy slow weeks. Work was work and the rest of the time was my own. Like this very nice Wednesday noon. Or was it Thursday? Didn’t matter. Sure there were clouds in the sky, it was Seattle after all. The rain and drizzle had at least abated for a bit.

Which allowed for some nice layabout time in one of the nearby parks. Great for just looking at the sky while on my back on the ground. Sort of dozing and not really paying much attention to anything.

My legs were a bit sore from the skate park nearby and I felt a touch thirsty. However I couldn’t really be bothered to reach for my water bottle. I was in a state of not boredom that was actually kind of blissful.

That is, outside of Suzi’s griping nearby as she made another valiant attempt to get some new gadget for her phone to interface properly.

“Shitfaced ass dwelling gopher engineers.” She muttered after I heard something make a cracking sound. “It’s not like the dork denizens of design don’t have the turd fornicating iPhone specs…”

“Can I record you for posterity?”

“Cram it.” Another sound of plastic cracking. “Finally! Now to see what’s got their panties in such a bind….” She trailed off getting back into whatever sub reality that Suzi got into when she was testing stuff. I’m not sure why she wanted my company at the park if all she was going to do was to test new hardware.

Still though, I enjoyed being along for the ride. She had pulled some killer tricks earlier. I had just practiced kicking off and riding the small six foot skater tube. I’m not really that good, boarding for me was more of a transportation that it was a sport. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish I was better, that would be awesome after all. It just meant I was aware of how shit my skill level was.

“Are you kidding me? Synch not Valid? What type of error is that?”

“Your invective quotient was low. I give you a four.”

“Yeah yeah. How about I complain about harpies armpit lice or rusted bilge dildo’s inserted somewhere you’d rather them not?”

I looked over at her. Today she had a blonde wig that looked real giving her a Scandinavian Raver look today. Like one of those women on those Russian Jump Step video’s. I pondered for a moment on whether she could pull off those moves as well.

She probably could.

Suzi jump stepping entered into my minds eye. Not a bad picture. Possibly on an open plain. Maybe one from that strange dream last week. The path with the great world jungle off to one side and the metropolis on the other. With acres and acres of similar plans leading into each. The heartbeat sound of the world was in tune to what I imagined Suzi dancing to.

In the fantasy I saw her outline beginning to form. Or was that mine? I wasn’t really sure I was awake any longer.

No, that was Suzi’s shape where she should be sitting. A ghost of her at least. In fact, the gadgets and man made goods on her seamed to be much more real than she did. It was strange to see it that way. To look through her form and see the land behind but the phone, battery pack, something in one of her pockets? Those were absolutely solid. It was both completely strange and perfection normal in this dream state. I would prefer to see her dancing like I had begun to imagine, but even gazing at this so closely was fine.

I’d never get away with just staring at Suzi in real life. And not just because I would be too embarrassed to do so. It was also because she would most likely kick my ass for making assumptions.

The way she was leaning forward to get a better view of the game interface was breathtaking for me. Her intense expressing striking. The way she would bite the lower left side of her lips or look almost cross-eyed in concentration would make my stomach flutter. I watched her ghostly fingers play along the more solid device. Such long and capable digits, so unlike my own clumsy oversized hands. Her lithe agility was like a cool breeze on a hot summers day. Even I knew how corny that would sound, but it is still how it felt to me.

Even in my daydream she seemed so out of reach, luminous ethereal skin that begged observance. Her image looked over to meet my gaze. At first curious then concerned. I was getting worried now, what had I done to make this spirit so concerned?

She seemed to be saying something. She stood up and put her device away. I could just make out the words on her lips.

“Jayde.”

She was saying my name? In this surreal landscape? I knew it wasn’t really Suzi, but something more or perhaps different?

“Jayde, c’mon.”

I was starting Suzi’s voice now. It kind of echoed a little as if said from a long way away. She was no longer beginning to look cross. Great, even in my own dreamscape she was annoyed if I looked or thought of anything beyond pure platonic friendship.

“You’re creeping me out.”

That last came through clear as a bell. I blinked and found myself looking directly at an irate Suzi back in the park. The great Jungle and Cityscape gone to where dreams hide in the bright of day.

“Huh?”

“Geez you’re clueless.” She put her hands on her hips holding her arms akimbo. "Earth to Jayde. Done here, I need to go write a report. Where the hell have you been?”

I looked at her curiously. “Right here? I was just dozing… I think.”

“You’ve been staring at me without blinking for almost twenty minutes. Seriously put me off my game. What’re you doing, taking Hannibal Lecter lessons?”

Damnit all. I found myself blushing in shame. I had gotten her angry when all I had been doing was daydreaming.

“Uh… sorry? I guess I was just lost.”

“No Duh. Listen, I’m heading home. You going to be alright?”

“Sure. I mean I should be.” Shit, she was giving me the concerned friend look. Whoever she ended up dating was going to be so lucky. I mean even her ‘friends’ look was good enough to knock me for a loop.

“Then I’ll see you later.”

Suzi grabbed her skateboard and walked over to the nearby sidewalk. Once there she kicked off and was quickly on her way with one last concerned look over her shoulder.

I think I may have screwed up somehow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 02

Chapter End Notes:
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Mirror Changed – Chapter 03
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

In between the upsells and button pushing's at work my coworker Becky and I were managing to have something of a conversation. Sore feet and Taco seasoning the next two most prevalent things of note in my senses.

“Come on it'll be fun.” Becky said as soon as we had a quick break in customers.

“Fun. Can I quote you?” I turned back to the front as a customer stepped up to my register. A dumpy middle-aged woman who looked like life had taken a literal dump on her and her delightful little bundle of joy. Read here: entitled little shit making preteen Xbox playing brat who manipulated mommy dearest into getting everything he wanted. It didn't help that he was currently whining harder than cartman from South Park about getting home so he could ‘kick some old fuck faces around online'. I think I may have encountered this little troll a few times online. If not him then definitely his doppelganger.

I went through the same script by rote once again. “Hi welcome to –“

“Yeah we want – “

“Would you like – “

And so on and so forth. They finished and moved aside to wait for their order.

“So Jayde, about Friday.”

I didn't roll my eyes but I wanted to. I liked Becky, she was a cool coworker. that was one of the problems. I had seen what happens with being too friendly with coworkers at some of my other jobs.

Then there was also the problem of barely knowing her.

“I would just be awkward.”

She shook her head and collected the prior customers order. After delivering it she continued, “I think you're selling yourself short period it's just a party. Come on, outside of that gamer chick, who you keep assuring me is ‘Just a Friend’ it seems to me you really don't know anyone.” Becky even included the air quotes…. of course….

Well, unfortunately she had me figured out on the friends front. Just Suzi, Bryan, and David were left of everyone I used to know.

“Which makes going to a party where I don't know anyone even more awkward.” I held up my hands palms up arms spread wide. “I can see it now, come and see the amazing wallflower boy. Capable of not uttering a whole sentence in a single evening. Feel awe at his inept abilities when it comes to mingling with those of the opposite gender. Revel in his monumental knowledge of nothing of interest. Stand at – “

“Alright alright.” She said with a giggle.

I do admit to myself, at least inside where no one else can judge me, I did think she was very cute in her manner and speech. “Seriously, I'm really nobody special. Why invite me?”

The look of incredulousness seemed odd. I was sure I haven't put my foot in my mouth again. at least I hope I have not I could not see how I had. Yet I have been known to eat my fair share of gym sock in the day. Oh who am I kidding, I still eat my size ten shoes on a regular basis.

“If you can't see that then you really need to get out more.” She paused to put her hand on her hip. “I'm not taking no for an answer. You're going, and if it's the tales of ‘Awkward Man’ then at least he can Wallflower again. If not, then guess what? You may just meet some new people.”

Her smile hit me like the high beams of a semi truck hitting a deer. I just hope I didn't end up on that truck bumper later on. After all that is what seemed to happen to me whenever I began to get feelings beyond just being an acquaintance.

“Yeah, hope so. That would be nice for a change.”

I was about to strike up some more conversation in between customers when Don came wandering by.

“Talk on break.”

what great management. I could just feel so much more motivated now. it was like I had been given pure inspiration from up on high. I turned back to the front and busied myself with my busy work to stay busy before Don could find something else to keep me busy with. Did I mention that I found something to do to keep me busy?

The rest of Friday had kind of gone in a blur for me. work nominally was usually like that. Between getting back home, showering the Taco seasoning and lettuce smell off, shaving, styling my hair poorly, and perhaps in among all that getting a clean clothes on I somehow found myself ready to head out into town for the night. it was holding a quick bus ride to southern Aurora. A city which wasn't too far of my home area just north of Seattle.

According to the address Becky had given me it was only another half mile away. I could take a connecting bus or walk the rest of the way period since it had probably take less time to walk than to wait I set out to tread the sidewalk. It was amazing how quickly a person could close the distance if they only put one foot in front of the other.

Kind of wish I had a smartphone or at least an old MP3 player right now. I didn't really have the budget for the former and the latter had broken a few weeks ago. At least the scenery wasn't bad. The drizzle wasn't even too heavy today. I should arrive only slightly damp rather than looking like a drowned rat. which was much closer to my normal modis operandi.

There is a joke up here in the Seattle metro area, it is that people do not tan they rust. I used to think that it was actual rain here, but I discovered that for the most part we don't know what rain is when I had visited a distant uncle down in Kansas. In just one afternoon I had learned what real raid was and I had also learned how turkeys could drown in the rain just by looking up with their beaks open. Suffice it to say said turkeys definitely did not live here.

these socks and others kept my mind spinning as I walked. I didn't really notice when I got off the old historic route 99. Nothing specific about the quality of homes clued me in, not really. As I neared my destination I did finally begin to notice a marked increase in relative wealth. It was already dark when I got to the home stretch, and by the number of cars out front I could make a reasonable guess as to which house I had been invited to.

The sight of it was almost enough to make me turn around. A two-story affair with what looked like at least four bedrooms upstairs judging by the number of windows. Also of course the upstairs balcony. The ground floor looked half again as wide and was set up with a wraparound front porch. Their driveway, which of course was filled with expensive cars, was a drive through type that was two vehicle lanes wide. I am not entirely sure if the color of the house as the streetlights were a pleasant old style yellow. That combined with a damp created as surreal haze effect right out of one of Bryans Noir style video games.

“Suzi’d dig this.” I stated not quite sure if it was to myself or to bolster my confidence. Probably it was to help the nerves out. Yeah, I'll go with that.

There were plenty of partygoers out front drinking various drinks and inhaling from either e-cig vaporizers or actual old style cigarettes and rolls. I walked up to the front. A bit more intimidated with almost a dozen people watching me. One guy lifted his glass and welcome as I got to the porch.

I lamely waved at him and the guy he seemed to be standing rather close to. I wonder if they were an item, if so I hope they didn't think I was fair game. I may not really have a hope in hell of dating someone like Suzi, but I wasn't quite ready to attempt life on the other side.

“Hey.” Said in what I hoped was a cool ‘in passing’ tone.

“Hey back at you. New here?” The man asked before I could enter the house.

“Not really. I live South of here.”

His friend leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Both of them giggled, which made me feel more than a little bit awkward. “Rob here says you're cute. Also that he hopes to see you around later.”

Yes they were definitely a couple. Verified giggles and all. And yes, I was now probably beat red in embarrassment. I really was not sure what to do. So I chose the better part of valor and with ears burning I entered the house. Rob and his boyfriend's giggles left behind. I really hope that things do go a bit better inside. So far I may just be better off going back home.

The music inside didn't exactly blare, but it was loud. Loud enough to force people to either yell or lean close to be heard. Great for many of the better-looking people I saw to get together, not so great for wallflower like myself. At least the beats pumping out were a decent remix I could nod to in a corner. Once I found one that is. I had to at least wait around until Becky showed up, I owed her that much courtesy even though I was already getting more than a touch anxious.

After around downstairs I had seen neither hide nor hair of anyone I knew. So I grabbed it drink from the kitchen and then a left in search of a location in which to take my reputation as the Great Unknown Visitor of the modern age.

Of course a corner was hard to come by, between furniture and people making out along the edges of the room it seemed that quarters had become prime real estate. Instead I found a very impressive piece of blank wall to park my ass against.

No sooner had I found my hindquarters plastered against the wall when I found someone else lean up next to me. She was pretty good looking, though a bit older than I was. Early twenties I would guess. She looked like a college student if I had to guess. Knee length skirt, long blue sleeved blouse, and a barrette on her head. Long brown hair loose down her back and a nice mocha colored skin tone. She stood there for a few, took a glance my way before looking into the crowded living room turned dance floor. I wasn't sure what she was doing over on the side of the room next to me. She was probably just waiting for someone.

About the song or two of her standing there and my sneaking peeks sidelong at her she seemed to tire of the spot. With a sigh that did wonderful but distracting things for my libido she pushed off as if she found whatever she was waiting for.

For the next while I just watch people go about doing the things that people did at parties. Drank, chatted, danced, made out, got pissed off with each other, made back up afterwards, drank some more. Pretty much everything I had come to expect out of a good party thanks to Hollywood. I even had a great sideline to watch it all happen to everyone else.

Sometime after the mocha skin woman left a blonde bombshell collapsed in the recliner next to my patch of wall once it had been abandoned by a prior occupant. She had strong features and a well-done tan she had either gotten out of state or at a salon. Matched that with trendy shorts, halter top, and knee length boots and I would bet she could have just about had any straight guy in here. Hell, she could probably have almost any gal she wanted as well. She sat across the chair instead of in it properly, her feet kicking in the air innocently on the opposite side of it from me. She took a deep swallow of whatever was in her cheap plastic cup then lolled her head back to look at me from an upside-down vantage.

Her positioning gave me a great view down the top of her halter which showed no tan lines I could see. She caught me looking and grinned wickedly at me. I felt my face reading in embarrassment, shame, and arousal not necessarily in that order. Definitely shame now as I quickly looked away. The woman reversed herself quickly on the recliner, kneeling on the seat and leaning against the backrest with her chin on her forearms. The way she was positioned it stuck her butt out a little, pointing it back into the room. I did try my best not to be too obvious as I attempted to get a peek at her out of the corner of my eye.

“You like?”

Her voice had been very playful and coffee completely off guard.

“Uh? Yeah… I guess?” I am proud that I did not completely stammer however I still felt like a complete asshole by admitting that.

That was probably not the answer she was looking for as she rolled her eyes at me before getting up to flounce away into another room. I think she said something sarcastic as she left, but I missed whatever it was to the background noise.

“Jeeze…”

I finally pushed off the wall myself to go get another drink. This time something a bit stronger than just a soda I considered.

After a bit of trouble negotiating the hallway I made it to the kitchen. There were, if it was even possible, even more hard liquor and drink varieties now that when I had first arrived. I guess I should have brought something, I didn't really know the etiquette to house parties though. Probably was only going to have one last drink before I left, even though I almost never drank alcohol regardless of my current age. I have not yet spotted Becky in the almost hour since I got here and I was already feeling more than a little bit claustrophobic.

“Oh, Hay Jayde!”

I turned to the completely unexpected voice to find Suzi entering the kitchen from the hallway. I stood there breathless at her current outfit. For the last ten years she had been major into cosplay and costuming. Her repertoire of materials and cosmetics would do a small production studio proud. If I didn't know her real hair color wasn't strawberry blonde and almost two feet in length I would be very hard pressed to guess. That over a loose white peasant blouse with wide sleeves and lacing up the front and below she had on a pair tight skin hugging pants. Simple and elegant, a far cry from her normal punker or gamer wear.

My mouth must have bad hanging open from her mirthful expression. Once again, chalk it up for Mr. Idiot. I am pretty sure I was making a fool of myself, but I could not make myself to respond in any way shape or form.

“Introduce me to your friend please Suz.” A deep male voice sounded out from beside her.

I had been so focused on Suzi I had completely missed the very handsome man off of her arm. Tall and athletic with a slightly Hispanic casters features. He was as incredibly groomed as any actor out of a soap opera could possibly be. Clothes to match my friend, they look like a couple that belonged off at a red-carpet event.

“This is one of my oldest friends, Jayde. Jayde, this is Hernando. He is in town for a limited engagement so I'm treating him around.”

Hernando held his hand out for meat lightly. I stirred for a few like a dumbass. Finally my brain caught up with reality.

“Uh, hi?” I reached out, his handshake was loose and refined. His skin soft to the touch as well as incredibly supple. I could only guess how much he made to look so good and dressed so well.

“Jayde is it?” I couldn't place his accent, but he seemed interested in talking at least. “It is always so wonderful to make the acquaintance of any of deer Suzi’s friends. Especially one is interesting as I am sure you are.”

Who what now? Me interesting? Only if a gamer dork working a toxic Taco place was interesting. Not wanting to look bad in front of Suzi though I didn't think admitting to that would be a good idea.

“Well, I guess so. She has been a constant in my life for a long time now.”

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed before disengaging from Suzy’s arms. “So, what are you having to drink?”

I looked to Susie for help only to find her looking mischievously at me.

“Actually, I think I had better be going. I should get up early tomorrow, lots to do and such.”

Hernando looked a bit put out by this. “Oh, please do not leave on my account. I am quite sure we could have quite the good time this evening.”

“Yes Jayde, please do stay.”

Even with Suzy pitching in I really didn't want to play third fiddle. “No, I’m sorry.”

Susie came forward to give me a hug. “Well give me a call later will you?”

I nodded to her and pulled back only to find her friend pulling me into a very close embrace himself. I felt more than a little uncomfortable with a guy hugging me as I didn't know where to put my hands or how to respond. He gave one quick last squeeze that released me to arm’s length. He looked over at Susie while he had me by my shoulders.

“You really will need to bring him around sometime Suz. Delectable truly.” with the last squeeze that left me even more confused Hernando let go of me. “Please Jayde, if you are free anytime soon do give me a call.”

He handed me a card, I guess it had his information on it. Though I did not look at it just yet. All I wanted to do though was to make a beeline home. One last nod and goodbye to Suzi and I managed to get to the porch more or less intact. Thankfully Rob and his boyfriend were not out front. Also, I saw that Becky was getting out of a blue compact car at the curb. She leaned in to say something to the driver who pulled out before turning towards the house.

“Jayde! You made it.” She came up to me with an infectiously friendly enthusiasm.

"Hi Becky. You look nice.”

She did too. Hair done up in curls and wearing a fashionable set of jeans and blouse outfit. She also had on Several pieces of jewelry that complemented her skin very pleasantly.

Becky cocked her hip and cross her arms under her breasts, "Nice? That’s all?”

“OK, good?” I felt ashamed again. It really was not my evening. “Decent? I dunno?”

A scowl began to set into her pretty face. “Try again.”

“Pretty?”

She sighed and uncrossed her arms. “Passable at least. C’mon let's go in and get a drink.”

I shook my head. I really did not want to go back inside and make an ass out of myself in front of Susie once more. “Sorry, I'm heading out.”

“Oh really.” Becky deadpanned. “I just got here you know.”

Now I felt even more awkward. Arms too long and hams oversized, nowhere to put them. First my pockets then after that nervously in front or behind me. “Yeah, I'm really sorry. I've been looking for you, but I really don't know anyone here.”

She gave me a look like I grown a second head. “That's the point of going.”

“I guess.” I stood like that lamely, Becky waiting for me to continue for a bit. “I guess I'm still sorry? See you at next shift?”

She looked at me crossly before she brushed past into the house. “Fine. Bye.”

Now what did I do? She sounded really angry as she left.

A bit more depressed I made my way back to the bus stop catch the next one towards my crappy apartment. At least there I knew what to expect, I knew what was normal and what was not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 03

Hope everyone loved this chapter. the next chapters of this and Summoned are up on my Patreon, they'll be out in a few weeks here too. If you like my work consider supporting me over there.

https://www.patreon.com/alyssnancyonymous

Also, yes, Jayde is something of a wet blanket.

Mirror Changed – Chapter 04

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not sure how I got back on the path in my dream. I don't remember going to sleep, I guess that since this is a dream that doesn't matter too much.

Once again I found myself on the center path between the great jungle and the huge metropolis. Already I had moved beyond the empty blank slate that I saw the first time I was here. Is this progressing? is this moving on? However it could be something else. I do not know what is going on. Like the time before I did not seem to need to breathe as there did not even seem to really be a sky. Just the landscapes to one side and to the other.

Wait, wasn't like that last time? It was, I think. I do know that there was more definition this time. I also somehow knew that all living things in the jungle were present, as well as all constructed items of the city. From small lizards and birds to the large animals striding across the land over two tiny microchips and great engines of creation. Everything that ever was seemed to permeate this dream realm. I began to wander down the center path. I was sure it was here for the reason, I was sure I was here for that same reason.

While I walked both vistas continue to change and grow .To evolve and strengthen into what they will become, or is it that they have always been.

The forests or was it the jungles trees grew to astounding heights while the creatures of the land and sky interwove among the greenery. A vast body of water I could feel but not see interposed below and beyond. Leviathans traveled the depths while porpoises frolicked in the waves. Great reptile’s scaled and leather bound roamed the lands next to the furry feathered creatures sharp of tooth and claw. Each stage of evolution making its presence known to me as I meandered at the edge of nature’s ground.

As always opposite the jungle was the realm of stone and bronze, iron and brick, concrete and composite. Metamorphosized just the same. From early slabs of granite and tools of Obsidian to Adobe huts with thatched roofs civilization grew. Chariots rolled in among the lanes both cobbled and paved. Complex carved edifices formed to replace many of the older buildings, yet some of the ancient remained. Throughout every epoch this continued. The houses and keeps being replaced continually as newer technologies and materials made themselves known. Yet as bronze age melted into iron and iron into medieval something of ages past always remained. Whether it was a peasants hut, or knights retreat, or even the giant pyramid I saw in the distance all of human achievement were there for me to see.

I kept to my pace.

Staying on the path straight ahead as a great ziggurat of glass and steel rose into the heavens. As an ancient Redwood so large it blotted out the sky that was not there. The ancient of both out and alongside the modern. Both expenses were beginning to make my head spin. Then I noticed something in the distance, something ahead of me for the first time.

I walked along to whatever it was they seemed to cross over the path. My bare feet feeling every aspect of the smooth path, a sort of wind that was not their breezing over my bare skin. Whatever it was I felt drawn to it. Whereas nature had been interesting and the great city fascinating this item was irresistible to me.

As I closed on it, I saw that it was a great arch over the path. Details began to fill in as I walked. The left side of it, which was firmly rooted in the grasses of the forest, was a composite of many technologies. Marble pillar, steel girder, alloy braces, engraved woods, LED's and plasma screens, wires, police, strings, gears and more. On the right side where city had it's reign the arch was living construct. Branches were interwoven with vines. Leaves and mosses and flowers and fruits. Animal scurried in among the various places to hide or to crawl. Every color nature could provide was here, whether on the carapace of the beetle or the feathers of a bird.

This great arch rose dozens of feet and was at least as wide. The closer to it I got the more intricate of both halves seemed to become. As if I was rising out of the depths of a trance and into reality for the first time. Closer I walked until I could see a figure in the distance walking towards me.

The person was as naked as I was. Similarity sparked in my mind from the shock of light brown hair and the pale fair skin to the stormy blue grey eyes. It was not until the last several paces that my mind made the connection that the only difference between the figure before me and myself was that it was a girl.

She was smaller than I was, lithe and skinny in that awkward teenager way that many girls in their late teens can be. She was not like any girl I'd ever dreamt about. This girl stood as calm and introspective as I was. Inspecting me with the same intensity that I used on her. So very unlike the erotic dreams of pop stars or females that I knew. Nor was she like any of the awful nightmares of mockery I had endured from women I knew in real life.

Instead, she just walked up to the portal opposite me to stand and stare. Stopping just as I stopped looking when I looked. A mirror to my action in many ways. Her stance so very close to mine but subtly different. Feet placed just a bit different, knees not quite the same bend. Where I was sure my posture was masculine hers was feminine.

We stood there for a time. I was not sure if she was the mirror of me or I was the mirror of her.

Her hair was tomboy short period her size was very petite. I was not the tallest at five foot nine, but she looked like she was over a head shorter. I doubted she came up to five feet, if that. I was not very muscular nor brought of chest, this translated to a slim carriage on her and small but pert breasts. Very defined, likely the type that would never need a bra in her life.

As it was in a dream state I was not abashed by any nudity. Still I did not believe it to be polite to look down below her narrow waist and flat stomach.

Not sure what to do now that I was in arms reach of her we stood for a time. Finally, I reached up to see if I would touch and invisible plane that reflected her image to me. Or perhaps she was real. At least as real as a one could be while in a dream.

I was not taken completely off guard by the feeling of her fingertips on mine. It was still a near thing. Her skin was smooth and warm, fingers tiny against mine. I move my hand slightly to the side expecting her to do the same, to have the contact extended.

Instead her fingers slipped slightly to the side, allowing her hand to clasp mine. An energy flowed up my arm. It was worse than grabbing onto an electric fence. Fire moved along my skin charging every cell with something that was not pain but felt the same nonetheless. The power was of some sort that coursed up my bones igniting everything in their wake. I could not let go. She would not let go. I could not hold on and yet I did. The moment passed after an eternity of but a moment.

Before my vision cleared I noticed that I no longer felt her grip in my hand. Rather it was a flat field against twitch my palm lay. My nerve endings no longer fired randomly in my limbs seemed to be my own once more. I looked around as my site returned. Things seemed somehow different. The air currents a touch more caressing, the ground a little more defined. My skin felt just a touch more sensitive as if it was more receptive to sensation.

Since this was a dream I guess anything could be possible.

Then I looked at where she had been to get a start. I saw myself writ large. My body, though still lanky and gangly was good head taller than I was. I could see everything on my nude form, and as I moved so did he.

Wait…

No.

I seemed to be outside myself. Not in my body, and if I wasn’t in my body then I had to be in hers. I kept looking up at him through the portal because I didn’t want to look down and confirm what I knew to be true. I had never in my life dreamt of being a girl. Why would I suddenly find myself doing so now?

A swallow. Two. The sounds audible to me, nearly deafening. I found it hard to screw up my courage to look down.

Subconsciously I expected to see my flat and markedly unimpressive chest. In my mind I knew what would be there, in my heart it was something else. So when I saw a small set of pert breasts I had a conflicted surprised feeling that was hard to reconcile. It was like phantom limb syndrome but in reverse. Something that shouldn’t be there but was. I felt my chest ending further out than my mind told me it should.

As I looked I heard a rushing in my ears. I had heard this sound before, right before a panic attack I had once years ago. Even knowing what the rushing noise was did not help me out. Instead, it seemed to only make it worse.

A droning ring began to encroach on me then. One hand still attempting to get back through to my male body, the other frozen beside me as I was unwilling to touch this body for fear of how real it would be.

The ringing began to pulse. Like my heart.

Thump, ring. Thump, ring.

With each consecutive beat something was pushed back. Not only from my sight but from my awareness as well. As if it had never been.

Thump, ring.

The great forest and all the creatures within. Gone. Blank nothingness in their place.

Thump, ring.

The metropolis. The skyscrapers, cars, chariots, huts, sawmills and all. Nevermore.

Thump, ring.

The Archway. Comprised of all that was living and all that man had made retreated above beside and beyond.

All that was left was me, my male reflection, and the invisible plane of force in between. Slick as glass and infinitely strong.

Thump, ring.

He watched me as I watched him. The same concern that was almost fear on his face that I felt on mine.

Thump. Ring.

He was pulled back as if by some great force around his middle. Flying away at speed. Leaving me all alone once more upon an empty field.

Thump… RING!

The nothingness of the landscape reared up and wrapped itself around me. Entangling my limbs in a damp grasping hold. Clasping me. Engulfing my body.

I could not breathe. The constricting forcing everything from my lungs.

Thump! My heartbeat so loud I felt as if my eardrums would burst.

RING! The audible concussive reverberation throughout all of existence.

The grasping landscape eclipsed all of my vision. Nothing remained. A chill began to cover all of my flesh. Clammy and wet. It restrained my legs, holding them together as I attempted to kick away.

THUMP!

My room. I was in my room. My eyes flashed open. I still could not breathe. My heart hammered in my chest, stronger than ever before. The palpitations painful. Everything wasn’t in the right place. I was tangled in my bedding, but it was strewn about. Like I had been fighting it all night. My clothes were half on, half off. Shirt ripped on one side. Television screen knocked to the floor nearby. There was a new hole in the wall nearby, and my left fist felt slightly bruised.

Crap… was I lashing out? Attacking things in my sleep in panicked delirium? It had felt like I had been fighting for my life. My heart finally began its winddown from full panicked fight or flight mode.

My ringtone on my cell went off. Dangnabit. I pulled valiantly at the sheets and my shirt that was half on half off. I was still restricted and couldn’t get free.

It stopped ringing just as I was clear of those despicable materials.

“Ewwww… Gross.” I did NOT want to touch anything. Everything felt like I had been dragged through seawater and hadn’t even had a chance to dry. I was covered in clammy ick. If nothing else I needed a shower something fierce.

“Only a dream.”

I patted myself down just in case. All parts seemed to be accounted for and no extra jiggly bits or padding where it didn’t belong.

“Only a dream. Only a very very strange dream.”

It had felt so real though. More real than this room right now. I was sure I had much worse or stranger dreams, but this one had a texture to it that went beyond imagination.

At least my phone had pulled me out of the dream before it got even more off the deep end. Now I just needed to find the little bastard. I seem to have flung it somewhere in my thrashing about.

Luckily when I found it the thing wasn’t damaged. Especially since it was just an el-cheap-o flip phone from a bygone era. One of those free government things I got over a year ago. Phone in hand I stood, noticed the late afternoon sun beating down into my room.

“Dammmnnn…. How long was I asleep?”

Rhetorical I knew, even in my own mind. Maybe I should start answering myself too? At least then I may be more interesting. I checked the phone and saw several messages and a few missed calls. Most from Suzi and a couple from David, one of my only friends left. The most recent was Suzi.

I stood there groggily, still coming down from my panicked awakening. I rubbed my sore posterior. How had that happened?

“Ouch…”

Ok, that was pretty lame.

My poor cell wasn’t working terribly well right now. It had been clipped by the tire of one of my coworkers cars earlier this month. The screen was cracked, but still legible at last. I just had to be careful with it till next payday when I could see about getting a replacement el-cheep-o from WallyWorld our local low income social club. Unfortunately, ever since it had been run over its time function didn’t seem to work. As such since I had found myself relying on my phones clock to tell time I found I was rather time deficient.

“Stupid phone.”

“Stupid dream.”

Berating things didn’t help, but sure felt good. It took me a couple of times before I got it to dial out properly. Then I waited as it began to ring through to Suzi’s phone.

She picked up almost immediately.

“Sorry I missed your calls.” I got in before she could speak. Lame Ass strikes again.

“Where are you?” She sounded calm, maybe a bit of concern was in her voice. She was never calm when answering the phone. Bubbly, hyper, distracted? Yes. Calm and focused? Never. “I’ve been trying to reach you for a few hours now.

“Home. Just waking up. Why?”

“Because no one saw where you got off to after the party the other night.”

“It’s fine. We weren’t supposed to do anything until this evening right? So I shouldn’t be too late.”

“No it’s not fine you Jackass.” Now she sounded annoyed. Much closer to the Suzi I knew and loved. “You’ve been incommunicado for more than a day.”

That couldn’t be right. I know I got home around midnight last night. But to sleep a whole day away? Wait… more than a day?

“Shit!” My exclamation loud and shrill to my ears. “Sorry, I mean What?”

There was a pause on the other end. I was sure she was switching ears after my outburst. “Get your skinny butt over here or I’ll send David over to kick it for me. You remember what happened last time I had to sic him on you?”

She hung up before I could reply. Not that I could really come up with a proper retort in quick order.

Fully awake I scrambled into some clean, or at least dry, clothes. I didn’t even bother with socks. Just slipped on my worn out old thrift shop special sneakers. Once outside I finger combed my hair into an approximation of some sort of style. Bed head sounded about right for now. Probably just made it stick out even further. I had to blink a few times in the afternoon glare, my eyes not quite adjusting.

It was not far to Dave’s. Still plenty of distance to mull over my dream. The type that seemed to stick around long into the waking world. It rattled around inside my brainpan like a bad commercial song. Weird and complex, probably something a psychologist would have a field day with. I was considering this as I left the area where my run-down apartment complex was at. Crossing into one of the many small strip malls.

Past the stores, some closed most still open. The area had been able to bounce back pretty quickly after the Covid scare. I was still so distracted, almost distraught, by my dream that I was doing my best to not look into any reflective surface for fear of what I would see.

"Keep it together Jayde.” I would mutter sometimes as I walked.

It didn’t help though. I still kept seeing Her out of the far corner of my eye in the windows and mirrored surfaces. Remnants of a dream that felt more real than the world around me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 04

Authors Notes – I’ve been waiting to get this chapter online for a LONG Time! It was the dream that Inspired this Whole Novel! I had this dream a few years ago, it inspired me to write. If not for this dream I would probably not have made a single novel. It was so intense, so REAL, that I had to write it down. I shared it with my father who used to write fanfictions when I was younger. He helped mentor me into my first draft. It began the road to Here.

SO…. With that said. No I am NOT Jayde. Not in any way shape or form. Jayde is inspired by a friend of mine. I would like to think I am closer to Suzi, but even that isn’t really true. There are parts of me in every character, or parts of the people I know and love, aspects here and there. That is true for many authors I believe.

My friend that inspired Jayde joined the military a couple years ago and REALLY grew into his puppy paws. He is Huge now. But when we were lived close to each other he was soooo gangly and awkward. You know who you are, and why nothing worked between us. But I am so happy for you now that you’ve found your wife and have your first kid on the way! I am glad that our friendship survived and so if you read this online then you know how much I’ve treasured the history we had. Give your wife a hug for me.

Also,

Consider popping over to my Patreon, Advanced chapters located there!

https://www.patreon.com/alyssnancyonymous

Toodles!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

Not long after I arrived at David’s house. It was almost as rundown as the place I lived in. However, where the condition of my apartment complex was the owner’s fault, Dave’s house was his own. He said he inhaled inherited it from his father, and it was paid before he only needed to take care of the maintenance utilities and taxes. Yeah, that would be nice. I always felt a touch envious towards his situation.

“Lucky Bastard.” Was my normal quiet comment on the state of his living arrangements whenever they came up.

His lawn was rife with weeds and the bushes next to the house looked like they hadn’t been trimmed in a decade. Tall wooden fence in the back, nothing left of it in the front yard. It was rotted and looked like a stiff breeze would knock it over. One very tall and healthy evergreen grew in the backyard and spread its branches protectively over the rear of the house.

The only odd thing about all of Dave’s greenery was that regardless of its untamed appearance was that it was always vibrant and healthy. No matter of rain, shine, or drought. His water bill was probably nasty during those parts of the year.

The domicile was another matter. As much as the overgrowth of plant life thrived the house was decrepit and probably one inspection away from being condemned. An old brick cottage with a shingle roof. Many were cracked and moldy due to the Seattle damp. One o the windows still had a small hole in it from a rowdy party last year that David still had not repaired. The paint on the window trim was peeled, showing the wood underneath and the porch was a bit soft on one side. None of us really hung out outside his house though so I guess the front didn’t matter. David did keep things cleaner inside and the power worked fine, so it was a teenager’s heaven for gaming and killing time.

Since the front door was ajar, as usual, I decided to call out instead of knocking.

“Hey guys, you there?”

I could slap myself on the forehead. Of course they were, I could hear the videogame and David grousing about something or other.

“Hey Suzi, quit hogging the Princess.” Dave’s gruff voice complained from within.

Since neither answered I poked my head inside.

As usual, Suzi was dressed however she wanted to dress. Meaning completely up to her and convention be damned. She had on her leather jacket from earlier in the week but instead of skater gear she wore a pink cutoff t-shirt and bedazzled jeans combo. Her costume hair was blonde and styled into a pair of pigtails that were jauntily high on her head. She looked like a psychotic bubblegum teen and if I guessed right there was a baseball bat nearby to complete the outfit.

I thought she was going for Harley from DC, except that the hair was a lot more poofy and wasn’t died in any way, plus her makeup was pink, blue, and glittery rather than running mascara on pale white.

Almost a complete counterpoint to the crazed bimbo attire my friend David looked as I have always seen him. Tall with a good build and broad shoulders. Average looks leaning towards handsome with ragged hair that looked rakish on him. His jawline was square without being over defined with a symmetrical quality I could only dream of having myself. I could easily imagine him working at an Abercrombie and Fitch counter. Not quite good enough to be a model, but far beyond my own quality of mousy plainness.

David’s choice of clothes was usually best described as grunge meets hipster meets ‘I don’t give a rat’s fat ass.’ All in all with his darker Caucasian skin tone and deep brown hair he could blend in or stand out in just about any crowd at his own command.

Well, except maybe Japan. He would be Big in Japan. Even sitting down, anyone with half a brain could tell he was taller than six feet.

Both of my friends were sitting on one of Dave’s two oversized and very threadbare couches. The kind that you’d find out back behind a thrift store in the rejection pile. Good enough shape to attempt to donate but not good enough to accept. In front of one of them was an older model but still very large flat panel TV. Somewhere in the mid fifty inch range I think.

They were playing the latest, or perhaps the second to latest, Super Smash Brothers Battle Party something or other game. It was hard to keep track of them as they released them so frequently. The latest match seemed to be loading.

“If that’s Jayde ignoring the fact he can come in at any time again I am going to lower his friendship level.” David didn’t even bother to look over as he gruffly ribbed me.

Suzi glanced at David briefly before glancing back at the screen. “Jayde! Get in here. Jeez you act like such a kicked puppy sometimes.” That last was muttered under her breath but was still loud enough for me to hear.

Walking in I guessed that I was blushing again from the rising heat in my face. I really wished I didn’t blush so easily. It didn’t help that Suzi, as usually, looked very good and that she had just called me a puppy.

“Ok Jayde, that means your friend card is revoked. It has been downgraded to an acquaintance card.” David seemed to be in a mood today. More broody than usual, and that was saying something.

“Don’t mind him Jayde.” Suzi piped in as their battle began. “He’s just being pissy because he’s getting his butt kicked by a princess.”

“Some princess.” He muttered attempting to defend against a nasty combo that Suzi let loose. Once his character was brutally blasted away Dave tossed his control down in a huff. He finally looked over, scowl on face. I think he was always scowling, or brooding, or sulking. The only other expressions I seemed to see on his face was a particularly evil grin he sported when he was playing a prank or was up to something. However he was always around to hang with or play games with. Which was probably why so many people thought he was cool.

Though having his attention wasn’t always a good thing. “Alright Jayde, what’s got your panties in a twist? You’re acting more like a virgin in a whore house than normal.”

“Weird dream. Well, a very very weird dream.” I sat down on the other couch and put my feet up on the coffee table. The game was now back on the character selection screen but neither Dave nor I grabbed a controller.

Suzi had already selected the Princess of course. She put down her controller and made a square of her thumbs and index fingers in the classic ‘Taking a picture’ frame. I could see one of her brilliant blue eyes through the box. “Jayde, if you get any more awkward I am sooo gonna put you into a comic.”

I only groaned in reaction. Sometimes Suzi was like this and I could only ride it out.

David on the other hand laughed. Low and throaty, somewhat like a predator on the hunt. He always like a good jab or put down.

“So, weird dream?”

“Yeah, can’t seem to shake it either.” I replied with a nod.

“And?” Suzi made a come on hand motion.

“Well….” Now I felt silly and a bit more embarrassed than earlier.

“Spill it Princess.”

Suzi looked back at Dave with his last comment then back at me. “Is that it? You dreamt you were a princess?”

I sat up on the couch, probably flushed a couple shades of puce at this point. “Damn it you two.”

“Ok Mr. Acquaintance card. Want to earn you friend card back? Then please elaborate.” He paused for effect, “Were you a good princess or a bad princess?”

I’m pretty sure I could fry an egg on my face right now. Trust David to get in a cutting jab when I am already flustered by Suzi. It wasn’t that what he said was too much worse, but for some reason when it came from him it sounded much worse.

Which left me trying to sputter my way through another inept reply. Poorly.

“I think you should let Jayde play the Princess. Seems to be more his speed.”

Suzi made a face at David, tongue out and eyes crossed. “There’s multiple Princess’s in this game. I think Jayde should take the other one and then you’ll have two Princess’s kicking your ass.”

“Please, enough with the princess jokes.” I finally got out. “Weird dreams are bad enough, but to be double teamed about being a princess….”

As soon as I finished speaking I mentally kicked myself in the ass. Talk about giving Dave a loaded gun. So it was to my surprise that he left it alone and Suzi took the bait.

“OH! I knew it!” She squealed leaning forward towards me so rapidly her blonde pigtails whipped from behind to her front. “You’re finally ready to admit it! You secretly ARE a magical pretty princess and here to stop the dreaded evil Zorklings from taking over!”

Huh? I tried to articulate a response to my mischievous imp of a friend only spluttering a couple times before I could speak. “NO! It was just a weird dream.” I calmed down a little. “Nothing else. It just spooked me enough that I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye and strange things flash in reflections sometimes.”

I looked away from them. Lamely picking up a controller. The room suddenly seemed to have gained an energized charge to it. Enough so that I could almost feel David’s shift of posture and demeanor. I looked up just in time to catch him stand.

“That’s enough for me today.” He turned and left to go into his single bedroom. “I think I’m gonna rest before I get some stuff done tonight.”

His door closed quickly, but not fast enough to cause it to slam.

Suzi looked over at where he had left then back towards me. Her deep sapphire eyes seemed almost as large as the comic pop idol she was dressed to emulate. “Wow, normally he would have a lot more to say.”

“So… what now?”

She shrugged her shoulders and collected the baseball bat I had known she had somewhere nearby. “Take our chances hanging out somewhere else?” I noddd my reply after which she continued to chat on our way outside. “So, about this dream Princess?”

I just groaned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Elsewhere~

In the old granite quarry the members of the Council of Balance congregated once more. This time only the nine. The humans and the glows. Though the location remained the same as before, the center stage now had a rock table hewn out of the granite shelf. It appeared to have grown up from the bedrock it was on. Veins of quarts and even some gold shot through it. Not unlike the veins in an arm or perhaps an oak leaf. The table of granite had an organic feel to it, yet was still hard stone all the same. The ambience brought by the four glowing beings eemed to pulse in time to a slow heartbeat. Their varied colors blending into the quarts of the table so that the crystal pulsed with photonic blood.

One of the glowing beings pulsed a little faster as she addressed the group. “It has become a problem.” Her voice had a buzz to it though no less feminine for that. “One that we should not… No, that we can Not any longer mark up to coincidence.”

Her orange tinted glow was dim, like the dying embers of a fire. Still warm and comforting on a cold day but not something that a smart person would wish to handle.

The bearded speaker of the Council of Balance addressed the others next. “Yes, far too many of our members have disappeared. Many posts stand vacant, locations unobserved, infractions against Balance left unchallenged.”

His manner of dress was similar to the larger gathering they had prior, still akin to a coffee shop hipster. Now though he had vario8us technological devices on his person including a cellphone in hardshell case on his hip and smartwatch on his wrist. In contract to this he also was entwined with living vines that traced along his limbs, up his torso, and even entangled within his beard.

One of the woman signaled to speak. Dressed in a masculine business suit of dark blue silk her Asianic features hard and sever. Her dark raven hair was shorn close to the scalp. “We have not been able to identify the new Chosen of Balance. Our next generation is in many cases going through their initial Change after accepting the Gifts of Balance. Yet we have too few of us available to find them and shelter them as they grow into their new selves.” Her voice was halting and course, as if unused to speaking.

The first of the glowing beings spoke once more. Now brighter, similar in color but closer to an angry blaze than to a cool ember. “We know it must be the works of either Gaia or Civilization. Not natural effects. Not accidents. There is no other agency that would act to Neutralize the Balance that has held for so many Millenia. We must Act. Not Talk. We need to go out and remove those who would attempt to turn us back to the Chaos of so long ago.” Her energy sharp and discordant. It shifted the feeling of the table, turning it from a gentle stable artifact into something of anger and action. “Too long have the chosen of Gaia and Civilization agitated against the Balance. The very thing put in place by the Great Entities that have granted us all our gifts.”

One of the glowing beings that had yet to speak countered her. The electric blue shifting into a calming ambience to assist in soothing the aggression of her fellow Chosen. “No, first we must take the appropriate steps of investigation. We of Balance must not be the initiators of another war. After all, for all we know it may be normal human organizations who are responsible for this. It has happened in the past, it could happen again.” Her voice turned sad and introspective. “We all remember the unfortunate events in the colony of Massachusetts Bay all those years ago.”

Several of the group repressed shudders of grief and pain. None here could forget the slaughter of a dozen young Magi in training by the fearful people of the time. Most of the youth had only just manifested, not really understanding what they were and how they came to be. Only just gathered together to be properly instructed.

The speaker bowed his head in memory of the tragedy. He looked at the others of the Council. “Then we will task our members to investigate these disappearances. Even if it may leave some area’s uncovered for at time. No direct action is to be taken unless and until there is proof of what is occurring.”

His expression was firm, belying the casual coffee shop anti-establishment looks he sported. His voice cool and would not be out of place in an executive board room or military briefing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

Oooomph!

I tried to regain my breath after a rather unspectacular wipe out. Unspectacular in that I just bellyflopped onto the concrete after my skateboard had jetted out from under me. I got up on hands and knees and wished I could afford more than the helmet on my head.

“That’s one way to get over the rail.” Suzi commented as she passed on a set of custom inline skates.

She was decked out in tight shorts, crop top, and skatewear. Including knee, elbow, head, and wrist protection. Not that she needed it. I had already watched her pull a handless side flip off a rail onto a ramp like a pro at the Red Bull X-Treme Games.

In fact, I don’t think I have ever seen Suzi wipe out in years. Like everything else she does she seems to take to it like a fish to water. I was very glad she invited me. Even if it was because it was at the behest of her friend Hernando from the party a few nights ago.

He came to stand next to where I had biffed it. Dressed up similar to how I was. Though whereas I looked like a schmuck in my loose jeans and ratty t-shirt, Hernando looked like a Guchi model out slumming in the skatepark.

I looked up as he reached down to help me up.

“Thanks.” I dusted my sore elbows and legs off.

“Bienvenidos. Siempre que necesites ayuda estare ahi.”

Oh yeah, he also had an annoying tendency to speak to me in Spanish even though I knew that he spoke flawless English. I think he just enjoyed teasing me for some reason.

“Uh.. yeah… Thank you I guess?” I rubbed the back of my head, clueless to what he was saying as usual.

Hernando just grinned one of his model perfect grins. The type of smile that made women go weak in the knees. It was no wonder that Suzi liked to go out with him so much. If I was a girl I’d probably do the same in her shoes…skates… whatever.

He stepped over to his free skates. A pair of square flat boards about six inches to a side with two skateboard wheels inline underneath each. Basically a skateboard cut in two with the middle removed. I had a hard enough time boarding sometimes, but this guy made freeskating look as easy as Suzi made rollerblading. I watched his roll over to the half pipe. The man had skills. Tucking and stepping, popping up one side and speeding down the other. Sometimes on both skates, sometimes on only one.

While he was in a complicated vertical maneuver Suzi rolled up next to me.

“He’s pretty good.” Her tone appreciative.

“I guess.”

Her laughter was light, music to me as it always was. “Guess? Why Jayde, if I didn’t know better I would say that you were Jealous.”

“What?!” I sputtered. Almost dropped my borrowed board. “Of him? No I’m not!”

She leaned in close, looked me deep in my eyes before she startled me with a boop to my nose. “Totally.”

I rubbed my nose with a touch of annoyance. “Ok, maybe a little. He really is good.”

“Just that?” Suzi continued her close inspection. “Sure there isn’t anything more?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

“Well if that’s the case, Hernando was wondering if you were doing anything later tonight.”

I looked over at Suzi again, not quite getting what she was hinting at. “Working. Besides I don’t want to interrupt your time together.”

Suzi laughed again. That beautiful sound that always seemed to make my heart skip a beat. “Oh Jayde. Don’t ever change.”

“Huh?” I scratched my head underneath where my helmet ended in confusion.

Hernando had finished his set and was wheeling up to us. “Convidada tertulia?” He looked over at Suzi.

She shook her head, a mirthful and mischievous grin on her face. It made her look kind of like a sexy playful pixie.

“Shame.” He shook his head in reply.

“Care to clue me in?” I inquired.

The two of them smiled at me before Suzi answered. “Maybe some other time. C’mon, let’s see you on the pipe now.”

Great, I get to be the follow up to the guys masterful performance. No time like the present at least. I dropped the board on its wheels and kicked off. I’d at least give as good a showing as I could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

Most of the week had passed, and yet that dream still bothered me.

At least I could find solace spending time with Suzi, David, or Byran. As well as at work. Sometimes though I wasn’t able to get away from the Dream.

To get away from ‘Her.’

I wasn’t sure that I was not going insane. She was the only thing that I saw that was out of the ordinary at least.

So to get away from ‘Her’ today I went to the mall a couple miles down from my place. I was sitting across from the Theater doing some people watching.

It was something Bryan and I would do for shiggles and ghits. We would watch them go by and invent storylines for them. Anything from histories and families to odd conversations that they had to be involved in.

Like the couple walking by arm in arm. He was dressed in the latest Manbun McDouche Hipster outfit. Bushy beard trimmed to within an inch of its life and I swore his hands had a better manicure than Suzi. The young woman with him looked like a much harder worker than he was, plus she looked awesome in her dreadlocks.

I would say that he made some serious cash online, probably on some feminist blog site. She was most likely the one who made the real decisions between them.

Once they were out of sight another worthwhile person to comment on walked into view. This one was a tall and skinny androgenous man. Well, I think it was a man. Corn rowed hair ending in beaded braids, poofy peasant’s shirt that was tie died a dark menage of oranges and blues. He was visually loud and quite possibly more gangly than I was…. If that was even possible.

Hrmmm… Collage student majoring in the arts and living off of parent’s money and student loans. Probably an activist of some sort. He’ll be a lawyer for corporations and a major supporter of the establishment that he is currently raging against.

Once he passed I saw across the way to the mirrored glass of the theater. I saw ‘Her’.

Ever since the Dream she was all I saw in the mirror. Only mocking me if I mocked her. Yet I never saw myself any longer. Just ‘Her’ instead.

I no longer went into my bathroom unless absolutely necessary. In fact the lightbulb had gone out a couple days ago and I had yet to bother to replace it. I had a couple of spares, it was just easier not to have any light to see ‘Her’ by.

Was Suzi right in some of her teasing? Was I just suppressing my feminine side so much that she was coming out now to haunt me?

Or was it more to do with life stress?

I didn’t think so, though outside of lack of money my life was pretty stress free.

Of course, I really would like a girlfriend. I knew I didn’t have a hope in hell of dating Suzi, and my last actual date was when I had just turned eighteen. Which ended in some spectacularly clumsy kissing and bad groping. The frustration and humiliation I had felt after that night made me much more hesitant to approach women in general.

At least with Suzi I felt at ease and we seemed to click enough that I could be open with most of my feelings with her. All but the ones that really mattered of course. I was too chick shit for those. Besides I was pretty sure that if she and Hernando didn’t work out that Dave was in her cards as a backup.

He was the epitome of ‘Bad Boy’ after all.

Wow, I think I had a pretty bad expression on my face judging by the ugly scowl that ‘She’ was making at me.

Honestly, even scowling ‘She’ was cute. Very tomboy, and my clothes on her though oversized just seemed to bring out an adorable spunkiness. It’s too bad she was just a figment of my imagination.

“So, would you go out with me?” I quietly said and watched her lips make the identical words out.

“Sure, anytime.” I replied to my reflection, making sure to smile brightly so I could see ‘Her’ radiant smile in return.

“Geez, now I’m flirting with myself.” I murmured to the air looking anywhere but at ‘Her’.

Really wished I could afford a therapist or something right now. I think I am starting to get to myself. Or is it ‘Her’ that is getting to me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 05

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Mirror Changed – Chapter 06

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

Back at work again. As usual. Another boring Friday daytime shift appeasing customers and ignoring my surly manager.

Becky wasn’t on shift today, which was probably a good thing as she had been acting a bit weird towards me ever since the party. I was sure that she had just as good a time there without me that she would have had if I had stayed.

More so in fact, she probably would have been just plain annoyed with me in only a few minutes if I had stayed.

“Your meal will be out shortly.” I told an obstinate and slightly obese woman.

“Well, it had better be.”

I honestly never understood why some of these fast food buffalo’s, what we called irate heavyset customers, thought that being rude would get them better service. What it actually did was incentivize us wage slaves into fucking around with their order.

A few customers like her later plus one that was blessedly kind and I was now watching the clock like a hawk. I could swear that it had moved backwards by at least five minutes from the last time I had looked at it.

“Any time now…” I quietly internalized.

Sometime later I was almost ready to scream when Suzi walked in, a skateboard under her arm. Finally, something interesting. I glanced back at the clock… Somehow an hour had now passed between that last look and now. So all I had to do now was suffer through the last of the line and then the usual end of shift annoyance with Don. I think he lived here, I know that he was almost always onshift when I was.

Three customers left. One was a family of five though. Surprisingly the rugrats were well behaved and the ordering went quickly. That was one more for my new customer Bingo Card. We started it up again this week after a particularly foul Jerry Springer candidate had reared his ugly head. All of us were surprised he hadn’t managed a Darwin Award yet when he came through.

So far Don wasn’t aware of the pool. Yet. We were working extra hard on keeping it that way.

The last customer in my line had just finished paying as Suzi stood up from whatever she had been doing on her phone. She got into my line so that she’d be my final person of my shift. I was about to close the register when she held her hand up.

“Hold on there Tiger.”

Great, she was in one of her Mary Jane persona’s today. The red haired wig looked vibrant, its long tresses almost down to her waist. I had watched several of the female customers eyeballing her with envy.

Suzi also knew my personal feelings on this particular comic women in Spider Man’s life. That in combination with her normal spunky attitude meant I was going to be on both a hormonal and emotional rollercoaster tonight.

“Lemme guess, you got a hot date tonight and wanted to get a small bite in first before you hit the bar?”

“Not on your life. Dating is sooo last decade. Tonight is for fun with friends.” She cocked her hips to one side and flipped her hair back with the opposite hand.

Have to say to myself that she looked amazing in the dark green top and black pants. Say it inwardly only as I was afraid of what I would say if I mae an attempt to compliment her out loud.

“So, what can I do for you?”

Lame, lame, lame, I was so lame. God I just wanted to smack myself on the forehead.

Suzi put a finger to her lips and gently tapped it for a bit. I know she knew what she was doing to me. So I just squirmed in silence.

“So many dirty ideas with that one Champ.” She spun around and parked her butt up against the counter so she could lean back on both arms, which drove me crazier still. “However, I think it’s best if we stay pro’s here ya’ know. So order me up a few meals. We’re off to Dave’s once they’re ready.”

“That’s it?” I couldn’t hold the relief… and disappointment out of my voice. Much to my dismay. “I mean, well, of course. I’ll get those ready Suzi.”

“Now ya know I’m Mary Jane right now Tiger.” She patted my cheek, much like someone would pet a puppy on the head. “So get that ready.” She got up and bounced away. “And Jayde?”

“Yes?” I almost squeeked.

“Don’t Change.”

Sigh….

It didn’t take long for the meals to be prepared. Once clocked out we headed to the bus station. Her teasing nature was at the back of my mind all the way over to David’s. Of course she continued to do so the entire way over to our friends. Regardless of the fact that she only carried her board and I carried the meals and drinks.

Outside the house Dave was leaning up against the old red bricks smoking a cherry pipe he pulled out every now and then. Suzi sauntered up, still in character, and saucily took the pipe from a wickedly grinning David. She took a good drag on it, the glowing embers in the bowl brightening as more air flowed through them. A couple puffs later and she handed it back, a look of disappointment on her face.

“Sorry, plain old Georgian Tobacco.”

“And here I was hoping that I would actually pull off Mary Jane smoking some Marry Jane.” She pouted.

David grinned while I laughed at her shenanigans. “so, what’s on the Xbox tonight?”

“Depends on whether you brought me some good steak burritos or crappy hamburger fart fests.”

“Mmmm… Both?”

He grabbed the bag from me and headed inside, grumbling about worthless junk food products and ruining perfectly good meat.

By the time Suzi and I had made it in David had the food divvied out into three distinct piles. The biggest one of course in front of his customary spot. I went to sit down at one of the other piles only to have Dave growl.

“Yours is over there.”

I sat at the last pile, Suzi would end up in between us.

“Why this one?”

“Because all the hamburger and bean farts are there.”

Suzi sat down at her designated spot. “And these?”

“Chicken.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“Because I like breasts and thighs next to me?” He said with a lecherous expression.

"PIG!" Suzi squealed in mock anger as she hit at him with a throw pillow. “Chauvinistic Pig!”

David put down the burrito he had been about to bite into and proceeded to defend himself against whirlwind Suzi. Likely he was attempting to rough house her into submission. Except that they ended up with Suzi straddling his stomach and Dave halfway off the couch at an odd angle. Her Mary Jane wig askew and no longer looking nearly as real.

“Damn it. It took Forever to get that to sit right.” She complained as she threw it off her head.

Unfortunately it ended right up on top of my head. I reached up to pull it off only to hear Suzi squeal again.

“It’s Perfect!”

Before I knew it I had been tackled by a very energized and peppy bundle of cosplayer. I could only partially see as she maneuvered me around like a rag doll. I felt her tug on my shirt and I attempted to keep it on, but somehow she managed to switch it with a different one while I was partially blinded by wig and my hyper friend.

Finally, wig on head and a different shirt on I was able to properly see my two tormenters.

Suzi was wearing my shirt, how and when that happened I had no clue. Which meant that I was wearing hers. I did NOT want to verify this.

“She really fills it out doesn’t she.” David stated to Suzi from where he stood.

“Damn it.” I reached up to take off the wig.

Only to have Suzi stop me. “Nope, you are Magical Princess Jayde now.” She pulled me down on the seat right next to her, our thighs touching. “Let’s show Dave what a pair of Princesses can do!”

I heard a click and had to blink a couple of times from a flashbulb.

“You two are So cute together!” Dave stated as he lowered an actual camera.

“Oh! Look Dave! She’s turning as red as her hair!”

“Damnit Suzi! You know I’ve been having a bad week.” I was doing my best to hold back tears now, hands were fisted on my knees and eyes burning.

She settled down a little bit. “That’s part of why we’re here.” She put her hand on mine. Which did nothing to lower my blood pressure but did change some of the reason for its rise. “You know, let out some steam. Let our hair down… well or off. You know, to just Be and not to worry.”

“So how bad a week has it been?” David put in.

“I may be having a bit of a break down.” I told them. I wasn’t sure why I was opening up, but it did feel good to do so.

“The dreams then?” Suzi asked.

I nodded in response. “Yeah. Strange thing is that they weren’t even that bizarre. Just, well, very real. A little too real in fact.” I looked over at Suzi. “Can I take off the wig please? It’s hitting a little too close to home right now.”

David’s wicked grin bore me some concern, but Suzi took the wig from me before he could get up to much more. His smile faded and so he sat down on the couch on the other side of Suzi. “Well, that’s no fun. Now I only have a Princess and her puppy to tease.”

“HEY!”

“C’mon Jayde. You are totally Suzi’s little puppy dog. What with the way you are always following her around.”

“Leave him alone David.”

“Arf arf.”

Her glare would have done Medusa proud. Of course having my friend defend me like that didn’t exactly help me out any regarding my self esteem.

“So, you’re still seeing visions?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. Just the one.”

“The girl?” Suzi said to which I nodded. “So how much of her have you seen?”

“What? I’m not like that!” I said, aghast.

“Oh, come on, she’s just an imagination. Why haven’t you looked all the way?”

Blushing again. Great. Another superpower, the ability to blush at the drop of a comment. “Of course I haven’t looked all the way. That’d be… I don’t know…. Wouldn’t I be like violating her or something? It just doesn’t feel right looking at ‘Her’ body like she was on display or… yeah…” I was rambling but could not help myself.

“I know I would check it out if I was you. It’s not everyone that can just look in on themselves you know.” Suzi paused then looked at me mischievously. I love that look but right now it scared me. “What does she look like? Big tits? Small? Flat tummy? I love flat stomach’s, they’re pretty damned sexy.”

“Small breasts I guess- Wait! No, I’m not going to discuss ‘Her’ like a piece of meat.”

Suzi smirked. “No need to be such a Princess about it.”

Now I was past embarrassed and was beginning to get annoyed. These were my friends, but still I was having a crisis and Suzi was just making light of it.

Strangely David had been silent during this whole thing. Normally he’d be right in there with the digs. I wasn’t going to stick around though. I stood up and walked out.

“Hey! Don’t leave Jayde! We’re only having fun.”

I removed Suzi’s green shirt and threw it inside Dave’s house as I left. I had a bitter taste in my mouth.

Leave it to me to turn a good old gaming hang out with the only girl that seems to understand me into drama central.

To top the evening off it was drizzling on me as I walked home. Without a shirt no less.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

A few days later since I had walked out of David’s had been a bit depressing for me. Well, not a bit depressing. A lot depressing. Especially Sunday as normally Suzi and I would have hung out at the mall or skate park. I bailed on it however. I didn’t really know what to think of our friendship right now, and I think I may have done something really really stupid by walking out. I was too much of a coward to even answer her calls or read her texts.

What does that say about me? About my manhood? Nothing good I guess.

So I had let another two days pass until Byran had pulled me out shopping. I still only saw ‘Her’ in reflections. I had been hoping against hope that this would fade in time, but my psychotic break only seemed to be getting worse. Only getting more entrenched.

Or perhaps what Suzi said in jest was right when she was chattering about magical girls. All I know is that it had gotten tough to shave, and very distracting when I once walked into the bathroom without a shirt on. At least when I was out and about there were other people to look at.

Now out on a sidewalk downtown walking with Bryan things felt somewhat normal. It was nice to just chat. About video games and internet videos as we walked. Bryan was a good friend to hang out with. Neither derogatory like David or hyper active like Suzi. To put together a list of what we had in common outside of video games was a very short list. As well as a sad reminder of how little I had progressed in life. We had met in a first-person shooter contest in a gaming shop. It was the store’s attempt to draw in new customers. It really only just re-netted it’s same old group. I didn’t rank out very well, but Bryan owned most of the competition.

Our friendship began when I was dissing the controller setup I had been forced to use. He kicked my ass and I complained with a whole lot. Thus began our long drawn-out battle of the consoles.

Now on this fine Tuesday afternoon I found myself on the way back to his place after a successful round of purchases at the downtown gaming store. Well his purchases that is. I was playing the part of the faithful companion. Also there was a very good potential of getting my ass handed to me yet again tonight on his admittedly nice setup. At lease I would have some respite from how lonely I had been feeling after my tiff with Suzi.

It was pretty depressing that I really only knew Bryan, Suzi, and David from all the other people I had grown up with. Everyone else moving on and out of my life. I kept thinking on how they had gone to collage or to the military or married or what not. They didn’t have time for a loser like me who wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m not sure about this latest attempt at a capture game.” Bryan stated out of the blue.

It took me a little off guard as we had been discussing an interesting live action internet video of the latest Final Fantasy. “The Digital Monsters one? Or the Ball Capture knock off?”

Of course I was a touch distracted as we walked along. We were next to the mirrored windows of a long strip of office complexes. I thought about switching sies with Bryan as when I looked over to talk with him I saw ‘Her’ in the window.

“No, I’m talking about some of those freemium games. It seems like the console game developers aren’t even trying anymore. I mean I guess I can understand since any kid can just hop on their tablet and download a game that you used to have to buy at a store.”

Bryan was like that. Very introspective on games, not really on anything else however. Just games. It takes all kinds I guess.

While we walked and talked I continued to take in the scenery. Bryan was better dressed that I was, which really didn’t take a lot of doing. He wore his work t-shirt, complete with corporate brand logo and a new set of jeans. He also wore a pair of brilliantly white sneakers that never seemed to get dirty. I was dressed in an old thrift store bought Zelda Tri-Force tee and some ratty pants I should have thrown away a few months ago.

Soon I was going to go out and buy some better clothes. These had been fine by my opinion until the dream. Now they were very distracting when I saw ‘Her’ in my reflections. Her hair was a short and messy page cut version of my current tassel of hair that was way overdue for a trim. On me I felt it looked nappy and awful. On her it looked adorable and cute. The jeans would have been alright if they fit, but the only reason they stayed up on ‘Her’ in the reflection was because it was all in my head. Finally the Zelda tee. It had a bit of an overstretched neck and was a little tight around my shoulders. On her though it could be positively indecent as it was almost a tent and the collar often flashed bits that should remain hidden.

I guess it was a good thing that I was the only one that could se her then. For all that was worth. I would be mortified if that was actually me that was caught in public.

Rounding a corner we maintained our chatter and I continued to watch people and their reflections. Since the Dream I had been watching people’s reflections a lot. Gaining an interest in those around me, or at least an awareness. It could also mean I was getting ready to break.

At least it gave me something to pay attention to besides myself.

Of course Bryan’s reflection was normal. Was walking along in the reflected sidewalk like normal. Everyone else’s lined up to their real self as well. Only mine was out of place.

A man not far in front of us, dressed in business casual. Probably on an afternoon break. The woman across the street in her ethnic dress that appeared to belong more in the Mediterranean than in a crowded American street. Even the pair of skater punks with their tats, piercings, and chains boarding towards us. We did our best to let them weave around us. Bryan held his bag of games close to his chest to make sure they were not yanked in passing.

Once the two were beyond us on their way I resumed my watch. I found it interesting just how many storefronts and offices were either fully or partially mirror tinted. I don’t think I have ever noticed it before. So introspective had my thoughts turned that I was no longer sure what we were discussing. Not that it was very important. Bryan and I just tended to have wandering conversations on whatever came up.

So I guess I could be forgiven for not noticing it at first. I was in something of a conversational fugue and window watching on the side. Everyone else’s reflections had always been normal. So even a gorgeous red headed woman walking aggressively towards us didn’t fully ping any mental warnings. Even watching her mirrored image didn’t pull me out. It should have. I mean a flame haired woman with large angelic bird like wings sprouting from her back shouldn’t read as normal. Her hair was a brilliant red, seemingly backlit as if by a fire. Hands ended in talonlike claws rather than proper fingernails. Pale alabaster skin, brilliant in the afternoon sun and containing a glow that would be pleasant to the eye.

Finally my introspective wandering ended as she blocked my path. My brain decided that the image belonged in a fantasy game really was her reflection and not just my own delusions. Reality came rushing back to find Bryan gazing very hapilly in her direction. Outside of the reflection I couldn’t blame him.

Hell, even without the reflection I would have been staring. Jaw dropped and everything. She wore tight leatherlike pants that she had to have been poured into. Footwear a pair of high-quality leather stiletto boots with bright studs running up the outsides. Tight blood red leather halter top styled vest over a fishnet long sleeved shirt that showed plenty of skin underneath. The long red hair that was part of reality and not the reflection was bright enough that it had to be a dye job. If it was it was a damned good one.

The very dazzling and also predatory looking woman stood watching us for a reaction. Then I realized it wasn’t us she was watching. It was me. Both of us were unable to speak. Bryan from hormones most likely. Me from that and the shock of her Avenging Angel visage in the mirrored window.

Bryan’s stillness was something of a blessing to me. It helped to extend the moment when any action would need to happen. I felt like prey cornered in the wild and the lioness was ready to pounce. I didn’t think my friend felt like prey though. More that he was a gamer geek who never passed up an opportunity to bask in a hot woman’s presence. Especially if she looked like she had just stepped out of a video game shoot.

Though I couldn’t’ move, couldn’t even look away, I saw the edges of her image move in my peripheral. Kestrel shaped wings that were brilliant white with bleeding red tips flexed slightly as she stood there. Feathers moving slightly in a non-existent breeze. My nervousness and anxiety grew as the moments passed. After a short time I am sure it showed on my face.

Eventually the woman/angel barring our way finally spoke.

“So are you going to just stand there and stare Magus?” Her tone was not exactly condescending. More that of a young woman who had caught her baby brother doing something particularly foul.

I didn’t know what to say, and it looked like Bryan’s brain had yet to catch up with the rest of him. When the woman spoke next she had gone from a slightly perturbed tone to that of the disgust I am sure a model reserves for ugly perverted old men ogling her.

“Well? Nothing to say?’

Neither of us knew yet how to respond to this gorgeous, yet unhinged, woman. I had troubles responding to unknown women, Bryan usually did not however. And it’s not that neither one of us didn’t know any, it was just that this particular one was new to us. Her looks notwithstanding, it was her reflection and the palpable energy I could feel emanating from her that held me cornered like a rabbit.

She didn’t seem like she would be able to wait any longer. Her nostrils flared and her temper was obviously on the rise. She cocked her hip up slightly and put her hand on it. Every motion seemed calculated to draw attention and edged with danger. Panic was rising in my chest as I slowly tore my gaze from her physical form to the Angelic visage in the mirror.

“Come now Magus.” Her voice contained a sneer nastier than the one showing on her face. “Don’t act like you’ve never seen cleavage before. I know what you are. I know you can see what I am. So close your Damned jaw and talk.”

The anger and impatience she wore was so strange to me. I’ve only seen it in movies or across the counter at work. Never once had such actions been directed at me, at my actual person.

Except, that is, from my father. Which was probably why I just stood there attempting to stammer up an apology and not running for my life.

“Oh, I get it now.” Her disdain palpable. Her expression shifted from an angry sneer to derisive revulsion. Sort of how David would look at me whenever I did anything remarkedly stupid. “HA! You’re just a youngling! Newly Chosen! A Baby. I bet you haven’t even Changed yet.”

As she talked, she leaned into my personal space, hands on hips and nasty expression on face. I took a step back and she followed, continuing her taunt. “You don’t look like much as a normal and look at your cute little Magus form.” She switched to almost a singsong tone. “Such a cute widdle ragamuffin. I bet you’ll only be good for one thing in that teeny tiny package.”

She jabbed a very well-manicured finger into my chest, right above my heart. It was well formed and very feminine, yet full of strength that I knew I would not be able to match. It wasn’t her human finger, or even her nasty verbal attack that had me poleaxed. It was the reflection, for if her winged form had been present then her talon would have been stabbed past my ribcage. Into my vitals.

The strange woman opened her mouth to continue her bullying tirade. Before she was able to speak any further Bryan knocked her arm down and stepped in between us.

“I don’t know what your problem is, and I don’t really care.” He stated brazenly. She backed up a little, expression still nasty. “But Back Off lady.”

I was really glad for Bryan’s intervention. I may have a lot of questions about what is going on, but I am pretty sure that this woman was the Wrong person to answer them.

She sniffed disdainfully at the two of us and collected herself back up. “Fine. I’ll find you later perhaps. Maybe after you have finally Changed. Goodbye Youngling.” She brushed past us, her tone so condescending that it almost felt like having been berated by an old lady yelling at us to get off her lawn.

Once she was out of sight Bryan and I finally relaxed.

“Well Jayde, I know you always wanted beautiful girls to pay attention to you but I don’t think that’s what you had in mind.”

I only nodded in agreement to his statement. As we walked along I rubbed the sore spot on my chest where she had poked. The woman had a lot of strength in that finger.

Owie…..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 06

Ooof… that was a pair of scenes! Got them out in one sitting no less! My fingers are the hurts now…..

Jayde is definitely less sure of the whole ‘Is it real or is it just a dream’ concept now.

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Mirror Changed – Chapter 07

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~David~

David sat on his couch. An old styled rotary phone in his lap. Not even one from the nineteen nineties. More like something from post world war two era. Coiled cloth phone cord and wooden casing. Old style brass and resinous plastic ear piece located in the proper place.

He picked up the handset and cradled it against his ear and shoulder with an ease of long time use. After a couple deep breaths he dials a long number, international dial code to somewhere in Europe. On the other line a pleasant if cold androgynous voice picked up.

“It pleases us to see one of our North American members still remembers the old numbers.” The person said, no aspect of any emotion to its old voice.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” David’s own tone was neither dark nor brooding. Not it s usual standard late teen slash early twenty year old anti-hero wannabe. Instead his mannerisms and tone was closer to that with some military or police training.

“Do we have the pleasure of a report then? Or is this a social call.”

“I have been watching for signs, as required. One I have been observing has had the dream. I do not yet believe another has found him.” David paused waiting for the person on the other end to respond.

“And the faction? Never mind. You would not report in this nature if you were unsure or if it was not of concern towards the agenda. Observe and verify as needs be.” The person paused for a moment. “And David? You know what to do if we can not use him towards the goal.”

“Alright. I understand. I will keep you posted sir.” He hung up the phone as soon as he finished.

David stood up, holding onto the phone and walked it into his bedroom where he opened a hidden side panel in his antique dresser. He put the phone inside, being careful with the cord to prevent any tangling.

“You’d better be worth it Jayde. I really like this house and don’t want to move.”

A few moments of pacing later and David pulled an old model cell phone off his nightstand. Not any type of smart phone or otherwise. Rather a pre two thousands flip phone from the nineteen nineties. He opened it and waited for it to power up. After it was fully on, which took a bit, David dialed a number much closer to home.

“It’s David. Get over here, there is an Awakening. I may need your help.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just closed the phone and put it down with a sigh.

“I really like this place… damn it…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

I always felt compelled to compare Bryan’s house he rented to David’s place. I had spent so many hours on each of their couches that sometimes I felt it might just be easier if I moved in. However I didn’t want to risk my friendships, and living with friends could do that. Besides David could be so negative and the cutting nature of his comments would probably have driven me to do something drastic within a month.

Also, I think that Suzi and David may be becoming an item. Especially as I think Hernando had left town. I knew I would have to call Suzi and apologize soon, even if the thought of her and Dave getting together turned my stomach. It was bad enough watching Hernando, but he was at least worthwhile for someone as awesome as Suzi.

I shook my head free of that negative though path and back to my current surroundings. Bryan’s furnishings were much newer than Dave’s, yet for all that they were not as comfortable. I think Bryan got them from IKEA or someplace like that.

We sat on the slightly less comfortable couch in a mostly blank living room. Bryan’s only major concession to appearances being some gaming posters and a very large very modern 4k smart TV. Said TV was on a stand made out of two by fours and mason blocks. Bryan would state loudly and proudly when challenged that a gamer had to have priorities and that a proper entertainment mount came secondary to a proper screen. I just think he enjoyed being obtuse.

Currently on deck was a first-person shooter on his Xbox. I’m not sure which one. It was explode and had lots of high tech weapons and armor. My heart just wasn’t in the game. Instead I kept thinking back on some of what the angry red head had said. I mean, ‘Magus’? ‘Changed’? what did she mean by that?

As I roamed about in game I got a good hit on Bryan. Well I think it was a good hit. However when I went over to check if the body was dead it reared up and cut my character in half with some form of energy sword.

“BOOM! That’s what you get Buddy!”

To say that Bryan was pleased with how he killed my virtual self would be an understatement. So far this was the fifth game we had tried today. The futuristic marines was pretty fun, I guess. If my head had been in the game.

And yet…

I sighed quietly and began to go through the motions of dodging the aggressive A.I. units fire while collecting weapons and ammo to take Bryan on. It didn’t take him long to zero in and take me out again.

“Hey man, were you even trying?” I was pretty sure he was looking at me. I just watched the respawn counter on my portion of the screen.

The last several times I had been over we had a blast. No matter the game or movie it had been worth every minute. Truthfully, I usually enjoyed gaming with Bryan more than the larger matches that we had over at David’s. It was probably because Bryan genuinely enjoyed the games and it seemed that David was more into the derogatory and verbal sparring.

“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t.” I tossed the controller down. “Trying that is. I think I’d better go.”

I stood up to go. I don’t think I was showing too much emotion, but Suzi always tole me I was like an open book. Oh, and that I should never play poker. I was just extremely pre-occupied with other thoughts right now.

“What, you still thinking about Crazy Chick?” His emphasis on the Crazy most likely meant to assure me that it was her problem, not mine. “You’ve got to lighten up Jayde. You don’t know who she was, and you definitely don’t know what she was on. Because, brother, she was absolutely on something. Acid, shrooms, super weed, psychotropics, … life….”

He couldn’t see the reflections though. After Suzi’s making fun of me when I began to open up at Dave’s I had decided I wasn’t going to discuss the reflections with anyone else.

“No, it’ll be fine. Besides I’ve got opening shift tomorrow. I don’t want to be too tired.” I headed to the front door. “I’ll be fine. Why don’t you unlock some new options or weapons for when I come over again? I’ll give you a much better match next time.”

Bryan turned back to the screen and was already getting back to the main menu. “Oh, I’ll have them ALL!”

Ok that made me laugh. A little bit.

He sure was gleeful about his games. I smiled sadly as I left. I wished that things could be that simple for me. The only other person who I have ever known who was as adept at games was Suzi. Unlike her though, Bryan refused to play Alpha or Beta. He wanted the full finished version right out of the box.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Outside Bryan’s~

In an alleyway nearby, barely in sight of the door her target had entered, the ‘Crazy Chick’ stood watching. She didn’t know much about this young Magus. In fact, she hadn’t even known one was in the area, so when serendipity reared its head she was not about to let her out of her sight. She had never met one so young before though.

Normally when the woman who was a Chosen of Gaia encountered one the other Changed of Balance or Civilization only after they had learned some control of their gifts. Once or twice she had encountered them recently after their very first change. This was the very first one she had ever encountered who didn’t even know what she yet was.

Of course that still left much to be desired about her current situation. That of standing stakeout in a Seattle area alleyway next to a privacy fence in high healed boots and club wear. Though at least the alleyway was drivable and for the most part clear of debris. She still stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. To make matters worse, like most back alleys there were always vagrants and ne’er do wells.

At this moment a pair of these fine examples of humanity had been switching from sitting and watching her to egging each other on to verbally accosting her. Both potentials annoyed her to no end.

“Hey Babe.” One of them said as he walked forward, having finally gained the courage to approach.

“I said, hey Babe.” He continued when she didn’t respond.

His clothes showed some wear and tear but were decent overall. Of course his voice was on the wrong side of decent. The gravely and hoarse type of voice one gets from screaming in too many mosh pits. The type of voice that was just this side of needing a mechanical voice box. The Gaian woman was also sure that if he got close enough his stench would match his voice.

She just ignored him. She had more important fish to fry after all. Or to watch in this case. She had found a new untended chosen, and had her instructions on what she or others of her group were to do if they found any newly awakened. She just wished she could do this from the sky instead of the squalor on the ground.

“Don’t want to freak out the ‘Normals’ Courtney” she sing song whispered to herself. “You what happened last time Courtney.”

“Hey!” The gravely voiced one said and took some steps towards her. Courtney almost snarled as she caught a whiff of what she swore lived in his ratty beard.

“She don’t like you man.” The cleaner of the two stated with a high pitched laugh and elbowed his companion in the ribs.

“Oh, she wouldn’t still be here unless she liked me.” He said to his friend. “What of it Babe? Are you as good in the sack as you are easy on the eyes?” Then back at his friend. “See, she’s just looking for a good lay, and I’m as good as they come.”

Courtney continued to ignore him. Continuing with the sing song chatter of another conversation she had with herself. She knew she could take them both with ease. Even in her weaker birth form. She was infinitely familiar with these types of bottom feeders, scavengers, and parasites of a society that itself was a cancerous plague feeding off of the spirit of the planet. She had dealt with innumerable examples of their filth throughout the years. So ignoring these two in a long line of breeders was only a mild irritation.

After some more time passed, and quite a few more comments from her own personal peanut gallery, the young Magus left the domicile.

She was about to move to follow when the grubbier of the two got too close.

“So, what say we go and grab a cozy corner Babe? So we can work off this nice sexual tension between us.”

The lower life form Dared to place a weatherworn and calloused hand on her almost bare shoulder. Only when he felt the coiled muscles and barely restrained rage did he get a hint of how very close to the razors edge he tread.

Finally the flame haired vixen responded. A simple restrained statement given in an ice cold tone. “The hand. Remove it.”

With the laughter of his buddy ringing in his ears the vagrant backed off. “Yeah, well yer prolyl a dead fish anyway.”

Courtney didn’t really care about them any longer. Her own quarry was on the move. She licked her lips in anticipation of catching the young Magus of Balance alone.

She so loved to deal with the younglings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

I was sure that I would get myself under control one of these days. It may not be right now. Or even next week. I would figure out a way. Somehow. The encounter on the street, for all its strangeness, did give me a measure of hope. After all, where there was one there had to be others… right?

Had something similar happened to her? A Dream of her own perhaps? Except that the image for her was the Angelic Being rather than that of a small woman? I wondered why mine was what it was then. Was the Dream something that revealed an innermost self? I didn’t like the thought of that if my inner self was a scrawny tomboy.

Obviously, it seemed that people who had the Dream could also see each other’s reflections. I’m not sure that meant anything though. If she hadn’t been so nastily antagonistic I would have been able to ask. She did seem to know something after all.

I wonder. Since she called me a Magus what did that make her?

I probably should also pay attention to where I was going. I now seemed to be heading into a strip mall off course from my place. As I wandered I could see myself in a storefronts television displays. From a central camera pointed out so that the consumer could see how clear the recording and the picture was. I almost cried. It was ME I saw. Not ‘Her’. Just me. Badly groomed, and a couple patches on a cheek where I hadn’t managed to shave very well. But it was Me. It seemed that video wasn’t considered a reflection by whatever had caused this to happen.

Maybe I could invest in a tablet for shaving and checking myself? I thought about the digital revelation. It was probably a good thing about it all things considered. Otherwise wouldn’t all recording devices show ‘Her’ instead of me?

At least my wanderings had taken me here. Close to where Bryan and I had bought the console games earlier today. Most of the stores were now closed and I noticed it was dark outside. When did that happen I wondered.

I was about to turn around and head out when that woman from earlier stepped around the corner behind me. I saw her on the video screens. One of the larger screens was big enough for me to catch her expression. It looked good on her, but the almost predatory snarl to her lips scared the shit out of me.

“Damn...” quietly to myself, “not sure if I should talk or run…”

I think that following the better part of valor may be a great idea right about now. There was just something sinister about the way she was stalking me. I turned to walk away, hoping that like before she would lose interest and walk off. Also hoping that this was just another random encounter and not a case of her stalking me.

Rather than stand there and wait for the crazy angel chick to remove all doubt of her agenda, I moved to go around the other route back to the street. As I walked along I caught brief glances of her when I moved around a parked car or dodged a shopping cart. I didn’t look directly over my shoulder but I was beginning to get genuinely freaked out. This was becoming far to close to one of those slasher horror movies for my taste. So far I hadn’t seen a weapon on her, and could not imagine where she would hide one, but I wouldn’t rule that out yet. Especially as she kept pace with me as I walked.

After I was out of the strip mall area I was only a city block from the street level of the larger mall. I think I would make a beeline into there.

The block passed quickly, my long strides eating up the sidewalk. Once at the doorway entrance I booked it inwards. During the brief time that I was sure I had out of sight of my psychostalker I went into a full out run. Around the kiosks and people. The odd mall cop yelling at me to slow down as I zipped past. Many of the stores were already shuttered for the evening as the last vestiges of the shopping day closed down.

Which also meant I would likely find no solace within any of their walls.

I didn’t glance over my shoulder as I ran. No need or want to slow down. Just focusing on the next steps.

However, for some reason, I was sure that she was keeping pace with me. Even in those murderously ridiculous heeled boots.

There was a movie theater ahead. I slowed to a brisk pace as I came within sight of it. The mirror tinted windows would likely offer me plenty of warning as to anyone following. Namely a red haired vixen with potentially murderous intent. As an added bonus, I was very grateful for my very average appearance now. I hoped that my looks alone would not clue her in. That it was my reflection she was tracking. Well, inside of the glass there was no reflection.

I tried not to pay attention to the movie poster out front, but it was now stuck in my subconscious. It was advertising a really dark slasher flick that Suzi had dragged a few of us to. It had kept me up at night looking over my shoulder for days.

Thanks Suzi. Now it seems like I’m starring in my own version of that movie. On second thought, maybe the movie theater wasn’t the best hiding place to sit this out. Directly across from the theater was a set of public restrooms. Conveniently situated to allow movie goers to get some level of relief after drinking ridiculous levels of soda and eating their body mass of popcorn for two hours.

Hopefully my own stalker wouldn’t enter the men’s side. I also felt that she wouldn’t look for me there first if I was far enough ahead that she didn’t see me enter. Also, when the next movie let out I could disappear with the outgoing crowd.

I left my current area, hastily attempting to reach the relative safety.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 07

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Mirror Changed – Chapter 08

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

              It was about fifteen minutes after I took refuge in the men’s restroom across from the theater that the next show got out.  As soon as a large group of men entered the facilities I left from my hiding spot in one of the toilettes.  I kept my head down and walked along with the wave of people happily chatting on their way home.  I saw no sign of the strange red-haired woman as I walked, but I remembered the slasher flick.  So, I kept my guard up and didn’t head directly home.  Instead, I made my way in a different direction away from the shopping district.

              Sort of in the direction of home and sort of towards the university district I rambled along.  No real location in mind yet as the nightlife of the city awoke.  I kind of wished I had taken up the offer of a fake ID that Dave had suggested last month to Suzi and me.  I could get into one of the bars to hang out then. 

              Of course there was a good chance psycho chick was at one.  So maybe it was a good thing that I didn’t have any way to get in.

              This double think would give me a serious migraine if I kept it up. 

              Eventually I found myself in a neighborhood I sort of recognized.  Older mid-scale apartment complexes and condominiums dominated the rural environment.  The street I was on was only one block away from the terraces where Suzi lived.  I pulled my phone out to give her a ring.  It’d be nice to say hello.  To try to reconnect. 

              Also, if stalker chick got me then I’d have one more person to have seen me before they dragged my corpse out of the Puget Sound.

              Two rings and it went to her voicemail so I hung up and texted her a message.

              She must’ve had her phone in hand because she messaged me back in almost no time.

              [what’s up?] – Suzi

              [Hey, in area.  Wat r u do?] – me

              [Nothing.  God, are you still on that old flip phone?] – Suzi

              [You should upgrade to something with at least a keypad.] – Suzi

              [Texting using short lettering and abbreviations is so unsexy and infantile.] – Suzi

              Leave it to Suzi to message me three times before I could complete even one reply.

              [Sry.  Hrd 2 complt near as fst msgs as u on phone.  U @ home?] – me

              [Why? You looking for some fun? * nudge nudge wink wink *] – Suzi

              I blushed at her tease.  I knew she was just having fun, but even texting I was too abashed to flirt with her.

              No matter how much I really wanted to.

              [No, I mean Y.  Well Im right out ur apt comp.  Bout 1 blck away.  Can U hang?] – me

              [Oh Gods Yes!  If only to stop your absolutely foul attempt at texting.  Seriously Jayde, I love you like a brother but text conversations with you suck.] – Suzi

              Like a brother.  Yeah, I do suck I guess.  At least I can be around Suzi again.  It was often disheartening how she viewed me.  I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt.  However she was less than a minute away so I let my feet get me there without too much more internalized conversation.

              I got through the parking area outside her place.  I’ve never been inside, but I’ve helped load and unload outside her place a few times for comic conventions that Suzi went to.  Before I could knock on her door my friend came out.

              It seemed I caught Suzi off guard enough that she wasn’t in any of her bizarre or unconventionally rebellious outfits.  Like at the party, her simple beauty took me off guard.  Her light blonde hair was a little longer than mine and undyed for once.  Feathered a little in a popular style it made a great accented frame for her face.  Suzi’s outfit was a tightknit dark woolen sweater that hugged her curves and darker slacks that had to be custom fitted.  Her open footed pumps on her feet made her whole look perfect for the higher ends of town.  As if she had stepped right out of a limo delivering her from up in Medina, Mercer Island, Briarcliff, or another of the millionaire communities.

              “Uh… hi…?”  I stammered.  Far more bashful than I wanted to be. 

              Damn it, why couldn’t I ever tell her how I felt.  Instead I either had terminal foot in mouth syndrome or I jibber-jabbered my stammer like a pro.

              “That is exactly the reaction I was going for.”  Suzi playfully turned around on one foot in front of me.  Her pirouette giving me a wonderful view of her at all angles. “so, let’s close our mouth’s and head over to get a nibble.  Shall we?”

              My jaw closed on its own volition once Suzi brought attention to its state.

              No longer in danger of catching flies I walked with Suzi down to the main street nearby.  One of the things that is nice about living in the city was being within walking distance of so many things to do.

              Case in point, was Suzi leading us to a nearby Denny’s.  Just one in a large grouping of diners true.  But like the fast-food industry, diners have a comfortable sameness to them.  Which means that I didn’t have to worry much about what I would find there or not.

              On our way we did the obligatory ‘Hi’ and ‘How are you’ and other conversational avoidance points with the staff and others there that recognized Suzi.  That is until after we had ordered and Suzi put her hands on the table to assume her ‘No Nonsense’ expression.  Her startling deep blue eyes piercing and cold.  Pinning me in place like a bug collectors pin to the corkboard beneath.

              “What’s wrong Jayde.”

              “Wrong?”  I squirmed a little.  “Why would anything be wrong?”

              I was happy to go back to the way things were before the Dream.  Before I had been so Very Stupid and stormed out of David’s after having reacted badly to Suzi’s horsing around.

              Instead, it looked like I was going to be grilled by my friend.  That she would not accept anything less than full disclosure.  So the illusion of the much simpler small chat had now given way to a very un-comfortable space.

              Once more I felt like an idiot.

              That’s me.  Jayde, terminally idiotic.

              “Jayde.  You’re my friend.  I’ve known you for like ever.  We used to bathe together as kids.  You have been more skittery than a caffeinated squirrel when it comes to hanging out in one place more than ten minutes lately.”

              I looked around uncomfortably.  I really wanted to do nothing more than to gaze at her lovely face, but right now it was just too intense.

              Finally I answered, while looking down at my hands.  “I haven’t been sleeping well.  That dream and all.  My reflections are all wrong.  And I seem to be pissing off my friends.  I can’t do anything right and anytime I try I make a fool out of myself.”

              “We’re not pissed off Jayde.  We’re concerned for you.  I didn’t think you’d have such a problem with the whole ‘Princess’ thing.  I mean, it really isn’t that big a deal is it?”

              “Suzi, for over a week now I don’t see ‘Me’ in the mirror.  I see ‘Her’.  I haven’t seen my own face in a reflection since that Stupid Dream!” I felt close to tears.  Great Jayde… zero masculinity points scored on this one.

              “Is that why you’ve been acting so menstrual lately?”

              “Huh?  I’m a guy, why would I act like I’m having a period?”

              She laughed.  Not a mocking laugh but one of the genuine full humored laughs that I loved so much.  “Oh Jayde.  You really are so cute sometimes.”

              “Huh?”

              “Your reaction.  I love you Jayde.  You really shouldn’t worry about stuff so much.  That is probably what your subconscious is trying to tell you.”

              I looked away and down at the floor.  “I don’t think so. There’s more.  Today someone else saw the reflection.  She could see the female me.”

              Suzi perked up.  “What?  Really?  Was she a psychic?”

              “Psycho maybe.”  I ignored her slightly patronizing joking tone and recanted some of my experience with the beautiful but terrifying woman.  Suzi especially loved the clothing description and I think was taking mental notes on how to make a similar outfit.

              Somehow thought I didn’t think she was buying any of it.  She had the same expressiveness that she used when we talked about a movie or a comic.  At least it was good to finally talk openly about it.  Even if I wasn’t believed.

              Our meal had arrived and gone by the time I had highlighted the main points.  Suzi had insisted on desert which was just now arriving.  A root beer float for me and some supersized ice cream covered brownie instant diabetic shock monstrosity for her.

              “I fear for your pancreas.”

              “I fear for my hips Jayde, but after a story like that I just have to have something absolutely… orgasmic…”  She licked her lips so suggestively that I couldn’t help but squirm in my seat.  Didn’t she know how she affected me?

              I wish I could affect her the same way. 

              Instead I sipped my float and did my best to rearrange myself as things down below weren’t in the most comfortable position right now.

              “So, what should I do?”

              Suzi licked off her latest spoonful carefully. Slowly and a bit seductively.  It was worse than a TV drama, I swear.

              “Well, if I was you, I’d first find out everything about ‘Her’ that I could.”

              “But I don’t want to run into crazy angel lady.  How would I find out anything without that happening?”

              “Oh Jayde,” her tone was mirthful, “ I don’t mean the red haired bombshell.  I’m talking about your reflection.  You know, the slim and pretty tomboy?” She took another small bite, her eyes sparkling over her treat.  “Without knowing more about your own self how can you figure out any of these other things?”

              It wasn’t that what she said wasn’t valid. Or that I hadn’t thought along the exact same lines.  It was that I was very uncomfortable about it.  I guess I took a bit too long thinking a response because Suzi continued before I could reply.

              She leaned forward conspiratorially.  “So, have you gotten a good look yet?  Like a detailed look?  She may have some clues on her if you look close enough.”  Suzi leaned back and held up a hand to tick off her points.  “So, number one, you have a ‘Dream’ where you encounter all of nature and all of civilization.  Which leads to number two, you walk along a path to a great big arch that is comprised of both.  Then through this arch is your female doppelganger.  You touch hands and switch bodies.  That leads to number three, in which our valiant young hero, you, wake up and have your reflection replaced by her.  That correct so far?”

              I nodded, nervously sipping on my float.

              “So, you haven’t seen yourself.  Not even once, in the mirror since then.  You haven’t experimented with her at all.  And now you have a crazy beautiful angelic vixen chasing you down.”  She ticked off the fourth finger then paused to take another bite of her own confection.  “I don’t know Jayde.  It sounds like you’re having one long wet dream that any hot-blooded young man would kill for.”

              “It’s not like that!”  I pouted.

              “HA!  It is totally like that.  Hell, I know some women who would die to be in your shoes!”  She leaned forward again.  “Unless you’re gay. You’re not Gay are you Jayde?  Cause if you are that totally explains some things.”

              Suzi reached out and laid one of her hands on mine.  The touch gentle and electric.  The energy seemed to zap up my arm and sent my heart racing.

              “It’s ok if you’re gay Jayde.  I wouldn’t love our friendship and company any less.”  She looked serious.  Her tone not teasing in the slightest.

              “Suzi…”

              “In fact I know some really great guys I could hook you up with.”  She was beginning to get into this somehow.  Her excitement at putting things together starting to show.

              “Suzi.”  I tried to interject again.

              Useless though.  She continued her own excited build up.  “We could throw a ‘Coming Out’ Party!  I know just the place to hos –“

              “SUZI!”  I whisper shouted.

              She stopped cold, curiosity shown clearly on her amazingly gorgeous face.  Eyes inquiring as to why I stopped her.

              “I’m not gay.  I like girls.”  I couldn’t stop myself now. If there was ever a chance to tell her, it was now. While all her attention was focused on me.  While she was holding onto my hand.  “In fact, I like you.  A Lot.”

              I was expecting a reaction.  I got one, but one that confused me.

              She pulled her hand back, her expression suddenly guarded.  She regarded me like that for a time.  I don’t really know how long, but it was long enough.

              “So… not gay.”  She stated calmly, as if completely ignoring the second part of my confession.

              Heart sinking I shook my head slowly.  “No.  Never even crossed my mind.”

              “Straight then.”

              “Yessss….?”

              She nodded, as if to herself before tucking into the remains of her desert.  Without gusto, almost mechanically.  As if very disappointed in something.

              Me most likely.

              “That’s alright then.”  She finally said in a bored tone.

              The type of tone that one would use when discussing the weather or the type of type font to use on a homework assignment.

              Embarrassed and ashamed I could no longer look her in the eye.  I knew that she understood what I meant, and her reaction told me all I needed to know about how really badly I had screwed up.

              And I thought I had messed up back at David’s place.

              I hoped that I could salvage something of our friendship.  For now though I felt that it was not the time to do so.

              My soda was only half finished.  The ice-cream melted all the way through.  It tasted like ash.  Like the uncomfortable tension now standing between us.  A barrier in place making neither of us want to speak or even look at each other.

              It was time to go.

              I stood up and dropped my last twenty-dollar bill. It wouldn’t cover the whole meal, but it covered my half twice over.  It was the least I could do after ruining the meal.  I’d have to subsist on rice and peanut butter until I got paid again on Friday, but it wasn’t something I hadn’t suffered through before.

              With a murmured and lame goodbye, I left.  I think I heard Suzi say something as I got up.  I wasn’t sure though.  It was tough to hear anything through the rushing sound in my ears.  I walked away in shame leaving the diner and possibly my oldest friend and crush behind.

              I am such an idiot.

              To top it off the sky opened up and it began to rain in earnest.

              At least the weather got what was going on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

              I was dreaming again.  It was the Dream but somehow not.  Things were a bit more surreal.  Still everything seamed lucid, so perhaps it was the Dream.  Except that in this one I was walking next to ‘Her’.  We also both wore clothes.  My ratty jeans and tee combo.  On her the same fit her properly.

              I know we were having a conversation as we walked between the Jungle and the City.  The path was also not straight.  Rather it meandered to and fro.  I would ask some question of her and she would ask a similar question of me.  Neither of us ever had an answer.

              Every now and then we would switch, and I would end up as Her and she would end up as Me.  The conversation would continue.

              Finally, I opened my eyes to a dark room.  I was drenched in sweat.  Sheets tangled around my legs and breath shallow in my chest.  I struggled to remember what time or even day it was.  Somehow, I pinged on it being Thursday.  I think.

              Going back to sleep was probably not going to happen anytime soon given the way my heart was racing.  So I got up and went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.  Initially I left the light off, after a while some of what Suzi had been advising finally got through.  I would probably never understand any of this unless I confronted this.

              Once the light was replaced as the bulb had still been burnt out, I looked at ‘Her’ in the mirror.  Her eyes were bloodshot and a little baggy.  Hair bedraggled in a pixyish adorable way.  Shirt just as drenched on her as on me.  However, her nipples were very visible on her chest as the sweat chilled on our skin.

              I gritted my teeth for a moment of indecision holding me in place.  The expression on ‘Her’ face one that almost stole my breath it was so heart-wrenchingly sad yet determined.

              “Grin and bear it Jayde?”

              I watched her mouth mimic mine as I asked myself the question.

              Mind made up I pulled my shirt up and over my head to let it drop to the floor next to me. I did my best to be analytical in my inspection.  When I poked my pectoral area, she poked her small but well formed and perky breasts.  I felt I had managed a good milestone here as I got more comfortable with ‘Her’ in the mirror.  To be cool and levelheaded, and not to get lost in the fact that I was looking at the image of a very cute topless young woman.

              My right hand reached out, almost of its own volition, and touched the mirror.  For a second I could swear I felt flesh, but it must’ve been in my mind as it was just cold cool glass beneath my fingertips.

              “Who are you?”

              Though I asked, she of course remained silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 08

Oh… Jayde…. You lovable and sad idiot.

Advanced chapters available on my Patreon. I'm gonna try to be more productive.
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Also, I've got my Discord Channel for anyone who wants to join, chatter, discuss, and enjoy general zaniness.
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TTFN and good luck to all in their lives and pursuits!

Mirror Changed - Chapter 09

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jameson~

The pub was pretty run of the mill. High end set up masquerading as an old time Irish drinking hole. Wooden topped bar looking hand carved and well oiled. Mirror behind with plentitudes of liquors for the discerning customer on various shelves. The lighting was a dim amber, reminiscent of candleflame and oil lanterns. Tables in the corners and actual wooden barstools that were not bolted in place.

All in all not a bad pub.

And nothing at all near what an authentic pub of the old world would be like.

He would know. After all the young looking man dressed in a depression era tweed suit and pork pie hat had been to the real deal.

Andrew Jameson had traveled a bit in his life. Seen places and events that many would have loved to see. Many more that he same people are probably extremely glad they have only read about.

Today he sat in a corner of the bar. A small bottle of top shelf whisky from a distillery north of Belfast.

An older man, in his late fifties, sat down next to him. Dressed similarly, though his suit looked a bit worn and frayed. Hair going to grey with the heavyset build of a life of hard labor at the docks or with freight companies.

“Daniels.”

“Jameson,” he nodded in reply. “Andrew. How is it every time I see you, you seem the same while I feel the full weight of father time on my shoulders?” His dark tanned craggy features were those of a southern Italian and when he reached for a full snifter of the whisky his hamhock of a hand engulfed the glass.

Jameson held up his own small glass. His hands much smaller and refined. Those of a British noble family’s descent. “The passage of years weighs on each of us regardless of their looks. To each a burden and to each a different weight.”

The dockworker lifted his glass in toast. “To the years. May they continue to march on.”

“Hear hear.”

The glasses clinked quietly. The sound of fine leaded crystal rather than plain silicate-based material. After a sip Daniels sat back contemplating the amber liquid as he let if low over and around his palate.

“You broke out the old glassware.”

Jameson nodded and patted a small purple heartwood box on the counter near to him.

“And that isn’t from behind the counter. It’s too smooth, too complex.” Daniels swirled the small glass again before taking another small sip. “This isn’t local either. European?”

“Irish, and thank you for coming.”

“It must be important for a sip of this ambrosia.”

“Reasonably. I am touching base with some old friends.” Daniels snickered at Jameson’s use of ‘Old’ “looking for information regarding any oddities. Reports of events that don’t match up to the official news groups. Large disturbances or explosions.”

“My friend, there is such a thing as the internet now-a-days. Even an old fogy like you should keep somewhat up with the times.”

Jameson smiled sadly. Almost as if reminiscing of the days of old. “I really have never found the time Daniels. Things just seem so much more complex than they need to be. Besides, didn’t you tell me last year that the internet would never replace the word of mouth?”

“That was over a decade ago my old friend. Besides it didn’t replace the word of mouth. The word of mouth moved online.” He paused to look curiously at the man who looked young enough to be one of his grandchildren. Maybe even one of his great grandchildren playing dress up. “One day we are going to have to get you a smartphone.”

It was Jamesons turn to shake his head. “Sure. Sure. Someday. Maybe after my current mission.”

“Will you finally share your secret fountain of youth then?”

He just smiled mysteriously. Not with humor or mischief, almost a melancholy of a sad secret. The smile of a person with a piece of valuable information that no one else has that he must carry to the grave no matter what he would wish to do with it.

“Damn you old man.” Daniels fumed, a genuine anger on his face. “I’ve helped you all these years because you saved my father in the Korean War. If he hadn’t insisted all those decades ago I wouldn’t even know you.”

“I am aware of your burden, and I am sorry that I may not be more forthcoming. It is my burden as well. I also made a promise to your father. To follow your life, to help you and yours and make sure that you are taken care of. I have never involved you in the things he saw in Korea. He made me promise that as well. You and your family have been a great help as just eyes on the ground. To verify or to find.”

Jameson topped off both glasses before he continued. “I have always valued your friendship Lyman. However, I do age. I am not immortal. Things are… different. We have discussed this before. So please enjoy the gift. I will make sure to wire you some extra funds for your troubles in this. And please be safe. Give my love to the wife.”

As Jameson stood to go he left the liquor case and bottle behind. Daniels finished the drink down in a single shot. He responded gruffly, a deep sadness to his voice. “She passed away.”

“When?”

“Two years ago. You never responded to the invitations. Or the messages.”

“I am so sorry. It would have been … hrmmm.. May then? I was… occupied.” Jameson was a little distracted as he attempted to put a timeline to when he would have been that far out of pocket.

Daniels shook his head. “Even if I didn’t know you were old already, the way you act is a dead giveaway. Some advice from an old friend whether you take it or not. Learn to live. You have the strength and vitality of a twenty-year-old. Enjoy it. Cherish it.”

“Another friend of mine tells me this as well.”

The old dock worker shook his head as he waived Jameson off. “Youth is wasted on the Immortal. Bah.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

The trash area of a fast-food joint. What a wonderfully odorific location to take a break.

Had too though. With everything going on, all the weirdness and my own personal mistakes and self-destructions. It all made it both wonderful and incredibly frustrating to work in the much more mundane world. Had to keep it up though, after all I didn’t have much choice. Needed to eat and needed to pay the rent. I did not relish the idea of being homeless.

Luckily for me, we had just been paid and some of my extra hours had caught up on my bills. Still though, I was a bit short on cash. As if that was anything new. Another perk of fast-food places however was that we employees could often get discounted or even free food.

Thinking of which, I saw the back entrance open up and Becky came out with a small entrée box filled with some extra tacos and burritos made for the rush that hadn’t been sold. Technically she was likely out back to ‘Throw’ them away. In reality she sat down next to me and handed me a dollar menu bean something or other.

“Mmmmm… afternoon leftovers.”

“Just like momma used to make.”

I held my half-unwrapped thing and Becky tapped it with her own.

“Thanks Becky. Don knows I’m a bit cash shy, so he’d probably dock my pay for this if I’d’ve taken it out.”

“No problem. Though you owe me.” She said around her own bite.

Our managers knew that the employees took advantage of unsold leftovers, and corporate policy stated that no prepared product sit for longer than fifteen minutes. So about every hour or so there was at least some spoilage. Most managers just turned a blind eye. Even Don. For everyone but me it seemed sometimes.

“I’ll see if I can get you back for the food sometime. Say next payday? I’m still strapped right now.”

She shifted a little next to me. “I’m not talking about the food. You’d do this for me after all.”

“Oh, you mean covering for my shift the other day? I’m really so sorry about that.” Considering that I had missed half my shift because of freaking out about the Dream I had been exceptionally lucky that Becky and another Co-Worker had pretended to Don that we had all traded and Becky had forgotten. I really did owe her for that.

“Not that either. Guess again.” She said in a teasing voice.

I thought for a few minutes. “Well, I’m pretty sure I paid back that hundred, and helped move your friends place for when you guys helped me with mine. Uh… I helped you get hired here for when you helped me get a job at that burger joint after pizza hut…” I was ticking off my fingers. Took another bite to chew over as I thought back. I was always careful to repay my debts as fast as possible so I didn’t get in too deep. “Umm…. I can’t really think of anything else…”

She hit the back of my head with the flat of her palm. Not enough to hurt, just enough to knock my noggin slightly forward and dishevel my hair further.

“Dolt, it’s a wonder you even remember to put your shirt on right-side out sometimes. You owe me for ditching me at the party.”

“Huh? Whyzat?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you mumble your words.”

I swallowed my bite. “Why is that?’

She rolled her eyes. “Because I invited you and I expected to show you a good time. Then you up and left after only an hour. You ditched me on the fecking lawn you dorkus. I had been really looking forward to that party you know.”

Uh… What?

“Why did my being there or not have anything to do with enjoying the party? I mean it looked like it was a blast if you knew people but I didn’t know anyone but you.”

“You dolt.” She stated quietly. “Well, that’s past now isn’t it?”

I nodded and grabbed a taco.

“So now you can make it up to me. There’s another party tonight. So after work, get cleaned up and this time I’ll pick you up.”

Now I felt a bit panicked. I Really did Not want to deal with people. Especially people I did not know. “I’m… well… that is… I’m not sure…”

“Jayde, I know you’re shy and socially awkward. That doesn’t matter to me. Just come with me, okay?”

Oh I so wanted to go with her. But I was actually getting scared now. Not just anxious but scared. What if Suzi or Dave were there? Or Crazy Angel Lady? I wasn’t ready to face anyone but Becky, Bryan, and work.

Work was a very distant third.

“I don’t think it’s a very good idea right now.” I said quietly.

“And why is that?”

“Things have been, well, hectic lately.”

“All the more reason to get out and enjoy yourself.”

“I have some… things…. I need to process Becky. They’re pretty important to life things too. I really don’t want to be around more people than I absolutely have to right now.”

I was pretty down when I said that. My hunger had disappeared halfway through the taco. The aftertaste of my last bite turning to bile in my mouth.

Becky appeared to take some level of solace in my answer at least. We sat in comfortable silence for a time. Her munching on her third item, me holding the unfinished remains of my second. I thought about the other night with Suzi and how my friendships seemed to be destructing on each other one by one. Was this what it was to grow up? To leave everything and everyone behind until all you are left with are strangers and bills? If I had known this in high school I would never have been so eager to move on.

Finally Becky had had her fill and stood to go back in. “There’ll be other parties and things to do later Jayde. When you’re ready we’ll do something.

She went inside. I watched her go and looked down at my work outfit.

Maybe life hadn’t really been so bad. It was too bad that I never seem to realize that until it had passed me by.

I felt like a bad country song.

Country song… I can’t believe I just compared myself to a damned country song. I must be more messed up than I thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

“Alright, Spill It.”

Huh? Now what? “I’m not sure what you mean Bryan.”

He loaded the wood and nails from a pallet cart into the back of his small Toyota pickup. “you’ve been more squirrelly than usual these last two weeks.”

“Well, yeah. I guess so.”

Dang it. Now even Bryan’s starting to notice and bug me about it all.

“Sooooo…?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Jayde. We are not going to have a ‘Dude’ ‘Sweet’ ‘Dude’ “Sweet’ back and forth. So do you mind fessing up?”

They had just finished loading up from the Home Depot and needed to walk the cart back into the place. Bryan was adding a new gaming and DVD shelf to his place and wanted company so ended up dragging me out of my place.

Which was a good thing I guess.

I was a bit too much of a shut in lately. Since Tuesdays were one of Bryan’s few days off I spent most of it with him. This was our third errand of the day, and with some clouds rolling in I wasn’t sure how much longer we’d be out.

“Crazy lady chased me, walked out on a party which pissed off my co-worker who had invited me there. Haven’t been sleeping well, which is causing me to be on edge, and I told Suzi how I feel which caused her to go cold and withdrawn and friendzoned me officially. So, you know, late teen drama and all that shit.”

Bryan and I got in the truck before he answered. “Damn, that’s brutal. Seriously? She completely friendzoned you?”

“Yeah, I haven’t heard from her since. I really fucked up this last couple of weeks.” Mentioning all that seemed safe. As long as I remembered not to mention anything about the Dream, and especially about Her, I think I wouldn’t ending up fucking things too much with Bryan as well.

“Harsh. Did she tell you why?”

“No. She just referred to our friendship and how that was really all it is and ever was.”

“I’m not surprised.”

I was not totally sure how to continue the conversation at that point. That and the pretty tomboy in my reflection looked contemplatively back at me. She had nothing to offer other than the sadness in her stormy grey eyes.

“What do you mean ‘Not Surprised.’?”

He fidgeted a little while he drove. “Well, we all knew you were crushing on her bad. And well…? Suzi’s the type to speak her mind. So her reasons are really her own to tell.”

“Great. Everyone’s so damnably secretive. It’s like I’m the last to know anything.”

“Don’t be too depressed Jayde. Part of it is your own secretive nature as well you know.”

I looked over at him instead of towards the road or the mirror besides me. “What? I’m not secretive.”

“You totally are. Never talk about yourself or what’s going on in your life. Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth sometimes. Hells bells man. Getting you out and about can be just as much a pain in the ass!”

After a bit we pulled into the covered carport outside his place. Me uncomfortably deconstructed by my friend, who had turned into a terribly accurate psychoanalyst. Problem was? He was right. I just didn’t want to admit it. After all, it made it sound like I was a reclusive shut in.

That couldn’t be it… could it?

We were a bit silent as we unloaded the supplies to make his new shelving. With the obligatory boxes of books and DVD’s he had nabbed by the pound at a clearance sale today. We worked in the light Seattle drizzle getting everything inside. Not really wet, but a little damp. Finally we were finished unloading and feeling a touch cold standing in his living room. The somewhat awkward silence returned now that the heavy lifting was done.

Bryan broke the silence by asking something. It took me a moment to realize he had asked if I wanted something to drink. I just nodded. He took a moment to grab a pair of Mtn Dews from the fridge. I could definitely use some of the nuclear green carbonated death water after everything.

Can in hand, I stood and contemplated the job. With the materials in hand it looked like another type of bachelor fabulous room in the making. Everything would sure fit in with the current décor.

“What are you gonna do now Jayde?”

I looked over at Bryan in confusion. What am I going to do? About what?

“Don’t look so clueless about it man. You’ve got problems. So what? Or better yet, now what?” Bryan was using his own can of soda to emphasis his point.

“I don’t know. All I seem to be able to do is just keep treading water. Ya know… to keep my head afloat? I’m living paycheck to paycheck. Only one wreck of a night away from missing my rent.” I sat down on his thrift store couch in a whuff. “Hell, I’m down to my work clothes and two pair of jeans for outfits. What happens when I have to replace any of them?”

“Have you considered looking into rooming with someone? I’m sure the rent would be cheaper than even that old rattletrap corner studio you’re in.”

“Yeah I have. Last month I even went to talk to a few of them. I just don’t know if I could get along with someone I don’t know.”

Bryan laughed. I had no clue what he found so funny so I just waited for him to explain.

“Once again, you have just shown how much of a recluse you are.” He paused, getting serious. “Jayde… Have you considered getting some therapy for your social anxiety?”

“Uh… I have no clue what you’re talking about. Besides I can’t afford therapy. I can’t even afford health insurance.”

He looked at me in astonishment. “What? You haven’t applied for Medicaid? You’re only making about a dollar or two above minimum wage.”

My face flushed in shame. He was absolutely right about my social status. Bottom of the pile. Last in line. Lowest on the rung. I looked down at my open and mostly untouched can.

“I don’t want to be a leach on the system. I’m healthy and when I can afford insurance I’ll get it.”

The response was just a shake of the head. Most likely at me, but at least Bryan didn’t press the point. Instead he picked up the first one of the four foot long pre-cut boards and fit it to the metal frame that was part of the setup. The whole setup would make it so that he could put screws through the metal parts and not wood on wood. It wasn’t as pretty, but it was very functional. Which was one of the things I liked about Bryan. He cared more about how well things worked rather than a pretty façade that may just be pressed over junk.

“Alright. Grab a screwdriver and put a couple screws in this will ya?”

I took hold of the material in question and got to work. Much was on my mind. At least instead of conversation Bryan put in a cheesy B-Rate movie. Something I could swear was based on Five Nights at Freddy’s, but what do I know. We worked to the screams and cheesy lines of a badass wannabe while drinking soda and making inane comments.

Why couldn’t more of my days be like this?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was walking in the rain once more. Hands in pockets and not a star in the sky. Which was pretty normal for this area. Once again Seattle had given me weather to match my mood.

The simple pleasure I had gotten from helping assemble the shelf and eating some leftover spaghetti from Bryan’s was already fading away. Leaving a sense of ennui in its place. The calm of it was nice even if the fatalistic feeling of my lack of worth wasn’t something normally pleasant. It was more that the world seemed to come into a greater focus now. To become more crystal, as if I had finally come to a better point of lucidity as it was to my purpose in this world.

Which really did not account for much. I didn’t bother listing my problems or failings. Not even to myself. Instead I just meandered on a rough course home. Letting the misting rain gradually drench me to the bone. I have seen other people walking along in what must be similar moods. Even then I could not bring myself to care. This was just the way things were. By simple merit of deduction I was just a fleshy cog in the great machine of consumerism.

The Dream and the ongoing reflections notwithstanding, I really didn’t bring any worth more than a warm body to fill a position of menial untrained labor. My father had at least been right about that.

I think I had been walking for more than an hour when I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. I hoped.. I really really… really… hoped that it was not my psycho stalker.

No such luck.

It was her.

Dressed in a variant of the same outfit as before. Looking better than almost any superheroine in a high budget television show. It’s too bad she was likely one of the supervillains instead. She was a bit more than half a block away and across the street. I only spotted her because she was so visually loud. If the woman had dressed like everyone else who was out and about in the drip and drizzle I would have missed her completely. Even with her vibrant red hair.

Well, a little silver lining to her showing up. Fear had now gotten me out of my depressive funk. Instead it was replaced by a shot of adrenaline straight to the spine. A bit of shock front and center stage.

“Crap.”

Hopefully she hadn’t spotted me and it was just another random encounter. I kept my head down and at the next intersection made the turn towards the mall. Hopefully there were at least some people in the theater I could blend in with like last time.

Two blocks later and it was confirmed. Psycho Stalker mode had been activated.

“Jeeze, she’s worse than those creepy clowns at Halloween.”

Ok, if someone had been with me that would have been funny. Why is it I could only come up with good lines when no one else was around to hear me?

Finally, the mall was in sight. Sanctuary… I hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 09

Advanced chapters available on my Patreon. I'm gonna try to be more productive.
https://www.patreon.com/alyssnancyonymous

Also, I've got my Discord Channel for anyone who wants to join, chatter, discuss, and enjoy general zaniness.
https://discord.gg/37RPTSv7Ua
TTFN and good luck to all in their lives and pursuits!

Mirror Changed – Chapter 10

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Courtney~

              The last week had been a frustrating lesson in patience for the dangerous and well dressed Courtney.  Though ultimately vindicated by the others of her small grouping, she still felt angry at herself for losing the young magus in the local mall.  She swore that the other Chosen had fled into the theater, but after making a bit of a ruckus she had been forced to give up.  The threat of the breeders police force didn’t really scare her off.  There was little they could possibly do that would more than inconvenience her. 

              It was near to where her quarry had been most of the evenings this week that she once more found herself.  She had been there just at the right time to luck out and the little youngling had wandered cluelessly back into her sights.  Of course that was lucky for her, not lucky for the little wastrel.  It was her own fault though and she knew it.  Wouldn’t admit it, even to herself, yet still she knew it.  Self rationalization was a good thing through the years for Courtney, it let her do things that an otherwise closer to sane person would not.

              She had wanted to deliver the newly born magus to the clan.  She was determined to bring in the Magus no matter what, even though before she had been following the strictures that her clan imposed.  Sure the breeders that comprised all but the smallest percentage of this planets intelligent species, that did not make them the true dominant though.  It was her kind that were truly dominant, the true Apex of what was and could be.  They just did not yet know it.  If Gaia was to have its way then they would given time. 

              For now all Courtney needed to do was to wait for the appropriate moment.  In fact it was with ridiculous ease that she was able to track the other Changed individual. 

              Courtney didn’t think much of her, she was always so distracted and oblivious to her surroundings while in her birth form.  The newborn Chosen may as well have been standing still like a deer in the headlights for all the good that it would do.

              ‘These new Changed were like so much sheep,’ Courtney thought to herself.  Not much better than lower humanity that Balance strove so hard to keep the veil of ignorance pulled over their eyes.  Making them not much more than mere animals.  Yet in their arrogance they lost their place and put themselves far and above all other species.  It was not balance as far as the Changed of Gaia felt, but rather incredible imbalance that would only result in the end of life on this wonderful planet.

              When she had first taken the Gift of Gaia and made her first Change the world had been different.  At least the lower humans had a fire in their guts and were not afraid to fight for what they believed in.  She often sneared at the pampered and brain dead existence most of humanity lead these last few decades.  Her quarry seemed to be cut whole cloth from that mold.  Such a waste of the Gift.  Yet, it was supposed to be an opportunity according to her Elder.  To bring this weak minded Magus in, so that she may be swayed to her Clans way of thought.  And if she was not?  Well, that would just be a shame was her malicious thought on the matter.

              Unlike the youth she followed and derided, the flame haired woman did not completely lose herself in thought.  She was focused on her prey, regardless of any errant observation or introspection.  So when the youth once again entered the mall in which Courtney had lost her last she was properly in place to follow.  Due to the late hour almost all the stores were closed.  So it was with no surprise that the Magus entered into the cinema again.  It was the same one where she had lost her prior.

              Not this time though, instead she was closer to her prey.  Almost entering on the heals of her target in fact.  The only people left in the mall were the guards, the hangers on, and the movie goers that would soon head back to their tired and dismal lives.  The less people around the better.  If Courtney could force the young Magus to follow her then it would be better.  If not?  Then she would force the Magus to Change and then carry her out.  That would be fine as well.

              The youth seemed to finally clue in to how close she was.  Courtney had felt that the Magus had known she was being pursued, but now that awareness became much more apparent. 

              ‘Good.’

              Now the real encounter could begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

              So far so good.  Especially now that the creepy slasher movie poster had been taken down in the lobby.  If I survive this I am never letting anyone take me to one of those.  Nope, never again.  Never ever.

              The entrance lobby was nice and quiet.  Some people were hanging out, like I was attempting to do.  Others either in line to get snacks or possibly waiting on someone else.  So, with a good view of the mall hallway outside through the semi mirrored windows I could cover both entrances and be able to avoid nasty creepy stalker chick.

              I was really tired of this weirdness popping up in my life.  Hopefully things could go back to the old rigamarole.  I almost laughed at how I had been grousing about conformity and mundane comfort not long ago.  Perhaps there was a lot more to be said about the comfort of being a fast food worker.  At least I knew what to expect from it.

              “Shit!”

              She was already inside.

              How had I missed her?  Seeing the psycho close up once more I was stunned by her looks.  Her skin had a light sheen of moisture on it.  Like either from sweat or the mist from outside lingering after the weather.  Her current outfit was the same cut as before except that both the halter vest and the tight leather pants were a dark blood red.  She had some type of leather bands on her forearms.  From wrist to just below the elbow, and a bronze coiled band on her upper right arm.

              Her expression matched her predatory appearance.  She was an Amazonian Huntress come to life.  All that was missing was the cheesy theme music to go with this surreal situation.

              I felt my muscles tighten.  My fight or flight body reactions demanding I move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 10

Back at it on a Regular Basis.  Yayness.

Shameless Self Insert!

Advanced chapters available on my Patreon. I'm gonna try to be more productive.
https://www.patreon.com/alyssnancyonymous

Also, I've got my Discord Channel for anyone who wants to join, chatter, discuss, and enjoy general zaniness.
https://discord.gg/37RPTSv7Ua

TTFN and good luck to all in their lives and pursuits!

Mirror Changed Chapter 11

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Courtney~

The last week had been a frustrating lesson in patience for the dangerous and well dressed Courtney. Though ultimately vindicated by the others of her small grouping, she still felt angry at herself for losing the young magus in the local mall. She swore that the other Chosen had fled into the theater, but after making a bit of a ruckus she had been forced to give up. The threat of the breeders police force didn’t really scare her off. There was little they could possibly do that would more than inconvenience her.

It was near to where her quarry had been most of the evenings this week that she once more found herself. She had been there just at the right time to luck out and the little youngling had wandered cluelessly back into her sights. Of course that was lucky for her, not lucky for the little wastrel. It was her own fault though and she knew it. Wouldn’t admit it, even to herself, yet still she knew it. Self rationalization was a good thing through the years for Courtney, it let her do things that an otherwise closer to sane person would not.

She had wanted to deliver the newly born magus to the clan. She was determined to bring in the Magus no matter what, even though before she had been following the strictures that her clan imposed. Sure the breeders that comprised all but the smallest percentage of this planets intelligent species, that did not make them the true dominant though. It was her kind that were truly dominant, the true Apex of what was and could be. They just did not yet know it. If Gaia was to have its way then they would given time.

For now all Courtney needed to do was to wait for the appropriate moment. In fact it was with ridiculous ease that she was able to track the other Changed individual.

Courtney didn’t think much of her, she was always so distracted and oblivious to her surroundings while in her birth form. The newborn Chosen may as well have been standing still like a deer in the headlights for all the good that it would do.

‘These new Changed were like so much sheep,’ Courtney thought to herself. Not much better than lower humanity that Balance strove so hard to keep the veil of ignorance pulled over their eyes. Making them not much more than mere animals. Yet in their arrogance they lost their place and put themselves far and above all other species. It was not balance as far as the Changed of Gaia felt, but rather incredible imbalance that would only result in the end of life on this wonderful planet.

When she had first taken the Gift of Gaia and made her first Change the world had been different. At least the lower humans had a fire in their guts and were not afraid to fight for what they believed in. She often sneared at the pampered and brain dead existence most of humanity lead these last few decades. Her quarry seemed to be cut whole cloth from that mold. Such a waste of the Gift. Yet, it was supposed to be an opportunity according to her Elder. To bring this weak minded Magus in, so that she may be swayed to her Clans way of thought. And if she was not? Well, that would just be a shame was her malicious thought on the matter.

Unlike the youth she followed and derided, the flame haired woman did not completely lose herself in thought. She was focused on her prey, regardless of any errant observation or introspection. So when the youth once again entered the mall in which Courtney had lost her last she was properly in place to follow. Due to the late hour almost all the stores were closed. So it was with no surprise that the Magus entered into the cinema again. It was the same one where she had lost her prior.

Not this time though, instead she was closer to her prey. Almost entering on the heals of her target in fact. The only people left in the mall were the guards, the hangers on, and the movie goers that would soon head back to their tired and dismal lives.  The less people around the better. If Courtney could force the young Magus to follow her then it would be better. If not? Then she would force the Magus to Change and then carry her out. That would be fine as well.

The youth seemed to finally clue in to how close she was. Courtney had felt that the Magus had known she was being pursued, but now that awareness became much more apparent.

‘Good.’

Now the real encounter could begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Jayde~

So far so good. Especially now that the creepy slasher movie poster had been taken down in the lobby. If I survive this I am never letting anyone take me to one of those. Nope, never again. Never ever.

The entrance lobby was nice and quiet. Some people were hanging out, like I was attempting to do. Others either in line to get snacks or possibly waiting on someone else. So, with a good view of the mall hallway outside through the semi mirrored windows I could cover both entrances and be able to avoid nasty creepy stalker chick.

I was really tired of this weirdness popping up in my life. Hopefully things could go back to the old rigamarole. I almost laughed at how I had been grousing about conformity and mundane comfort not long ago. Perhaps there was a lot more to be said about the comfort of being a fast food worker. At least I knew what to expect from it.

“Shit!”

She was already inside.

How had I missed her? Seeing the psycho close up once more I was stunned by her looks. Her skin had a light sheen of moisture on it. Like either from sweat or the mist from outside lingering after the weather. Her current outfit was the same cut as before except that both the halter vest and the tight leather pants were a dark blood red. She had some type of leather bands on her forearms. From wrist to just below the elbow, and a bronze coiled band on her upper right arm.

Her expression matched her predatory appearance. She was an Amazonian Huntress come to life. All that was missing was the cheesy theme music to go with this surreal situation.

I felt my muscles tighten. My fight or flight body reactions demanding I move. For just the small amount of time I think my body almost moved to confront her. Instead common sense reigned my actions as I ran out the other door as fast as possible. The restroom had worked before to avoid her so I ran in there once again. For all of her stockings she at least seemed somewhat to follow the law prior.

Once inside a let out the breath I had not realized I had been holding.

The room was a standard modern mall aesthetically pleasing room. Heh, aesthetically pleasing. Of all the things to notice while running from a potentially very bad no good ending.

I walked further into the main area of the restroom, doing so I caught myself staring at the tomboy wearing my clothes reflected in the mirror. Perspiration visible on her face the sweat showing on the skin on her chest. The shirt was still damp from the rain outside clinging to her torso. Outlining her small but shapely breasts and taught belly. A frightened expression on her cute pixielike face. Eyes wide with a level of fear and lips parted as she panted breathlessly. Her eyes dilated wide as she looked back at me.

As it was in the reflection I knew that I showed the same fear on me. I still felt shame looking at the pretty girl in the mirror though. With her face flushed with the same adrenaline as mine was. I turned my gaze away, feeling dirty as if I was a voyeur steeling her image from someone else. I really did not need this distraction with a crazy person chasing after me.

No matter of how I felt about my reflection I was here, in this restroom, having a near meltdown. It would be best if I could calm down a little while I waited the psycho amazon out. There was even the convenience of the sinks to quickly rinse the sweat and rainwater off. Moving into the front of one I did my best to keep my gaze downward and off of Her.

I took a few calming breaths as I brace myself on the porcelain fixture before I splashed some cold water on my face. Habit made me look up as I did so. Only to catch a full down blouse sight of Her. Embarrassed, I stood fully upright and covered my chest so that I wouldn’t see her hardened nipples. I wasn’t sure how long I waited at that point. I turned around to look at the empty restroom as well as keep watch on the entrance. Across the small area was another set of sinks and their mirrors. Set up so that their reflective surfaces didn’t give that eerie infinite effect.

While I waited I contemplated Her again. Sometimes looking her in the eye, sometimes looking away. To me She was someone else. I don’t know why this was happening. I didn’t think I was perverted or had some form of dementia. I didn’t have any problems with my masculinity contrary to Suzi’s implications earlier. I turned to the mirror closest to me and reached up to touch her face in the reflection. Her hand making the same movements to mine. I could almost feel her hand behind the Mirror. Something was there, beneath the glass. An energy, a warmth I could barely perceive.

I stood there on the brink of some epiphany. The edge of some understanding. To be shattered by the door opening. Around the privacy break at the entrance stepped the person I was both dreading and somehow deep inside hoping to see.

The mirror I was looking at her with showed me the terrifyingly beautiful avenging Angel. Her fiery glowing hair backlit by some unknown nimbus of light. The kestrel-like wings of pearlesque white feathers tipped in crimson hearts blood flexed and rippled in an invisible wind. The edges of which seemed to be both whisper soft and sharpened to a lethal knifes edge. Her alabaster skin aglow with Holy Wrath that only made her sapphire eyes piercing and laser bright as they stared into my soul.

There was no point keeping my back to here, but I was almost more scared to turn around and have my back to her reflection. Still I managed to tear myself from her mesmerizing reflection.

“I swear, it’s like chasing a groundhog into its den.” She said with a flippant waive of her hand. “Ok Magus, let’s see it.”

I had no clue what she was talking about. Her posture and expression was that of impatience. Like it was me who was wasting her time, that I was a difficult child rather than being stalked.

This scene truly belonged much more in one of Bryans games than as something happening to me. I was still gawking at her when her patience wore out.

“Alright, so you’re a bit slow. You are just an itty-bitty tadpole after all.” She rolled her eyes at me before she reached out towards the nearest reflective surface.

Her stance was wide. Both feet just past shoulders width apart. Left arm held out and fingers stretched claw like, just like how the talons showed in her image. Her head was tilted forward, some of the crimson locks flowing to frame her face. She looked at me through hair and beneath sinister eyebrows. An evil visage that pulled the breath right out of my body.

“This is how you do it.”

She touched the mirror, then seemed to reach through the glass to the Angel who grasped her hand. Fingers entwined as a moment outside of time began. Static filled the room as an energy connected her and her reflection. Behind me I felt the same pull towards my own female doppelganger. The energy pulsed. Filled the entire room. A nonphysical explosion shifted along her body rapidly overtaking her entire form. It sprang outwards from her eyes as well as where the Angel grasped her hand. Moving in a wave until in its wake it was the Angel that stood in front of me rather than the woman.

A backlash of the event flung me back against the sink and wall. Not a true blast or explosion, just the push from what had happened. I braced myself back up with both arms, one to the tiled panels and the other touched the mirror.

The epiphany returned. Something coalesced into being inside my core. The mirror was no longer a mirror for me. No longer cold glass. I felt Her hand, the fingers splayed beneath mine. Flesh to flesh, rather than the teasing ‘almost’ sensations of the last few days.

“Yes little Magus. You can finally feel it, can’t you?” Her voice venomous, cold and cruel. She flexed her wings, a shushing sound came forth. Like the whispering flutter of a bird of prey readying for flight. She took a step towards me, both arms low and out to the side, the taloned fingers wide as if readying to slash through my flesh. To gut me like the small animal I was.

“You can feel what has awakened.”

The aggression and hate emanating from her was palpable as she took another step.

“Go on Magus. Change. Do it so we can begin. You will leave with me one way or another, and I’ll be damned by Gaia if I have to haul your filthy breeder birth form back with me.

Ok. Scared now.

Like pee in my pants frightened. I could not face her like this. I was too weak. Incapable of giving a normal person a bruise let alone take on an honest to God supernatural winged and very pissed off Angel.

The echo of her next footstep rang with the finality of oblivion. My panic rose, the bile biting the back of my throat.

“NO!” I finally managed to break the stasis imposed by my fright. The fingers of Her slid in-between my own. For just a moment I felt perfectly calm. That now that She was taking over that I would be able to work on the same level of the being in front of me.

My yell seemed to shatter my reality once more. Time moved back into proper flow. I felt ‘Her’ energy reaching into me. The world shifted and almost seemed to invert. Then, like in the Dream, I was Her. Everything was slightly larger. I was no longer looking across to my tall adversary, now I was looking up at her. I felt my male sides fingers slip from mine, retreating back into the mirror. At the same time my now very baggy clothes made themselves know. Unfortunately in the form of my pants dropping around my ankles before I could think to reach for them.

Angel lady let loose a nasty barking laugh at my predicament. She stood up tall and folded her arms under her ample breasts. “Now you can come with me you elusive tart.”

The glass under my hand once more felt like glass. I leaned down, as calmly as my frightened muscles allowed, and pulled my pants up. I almost stumbled doing so and ended up out of one of my shoes. I wanted to process this more, first though I was just going to ignore that I was ‘Her’ for now. It would only fuck with me hard core. Perhaps the clarity that was falling over me was just shock. Perhaps not. I was not going to waste it either way.

“No…”

I put my fingers to my lips. My voice was wrong. Too high, to soft. My lips felt soft and sensitive underneath my now petite fingertips. “No. Not now.” I continued while the Angel looked on with derisive condemnation. “I don’t want to go with you. I won’t.”

“Well, that is just too bad tadpole. You aren’t protected by any group. Unclaimed. Worthless to anyone as things stand. So be a good little girl and come with me.” How she talked was so hurtful. She practically sneered the words at me. As if talking to a slave or a death row murderer.

My panic began to rise again. A pressure in my chest causing my extremities to tingle and burn. Vision narrowed towards her, the sides of it grayed out into a tunnel with the Angel in the center. I was sure now that if I went with her that I would end up as just one more statistic. Just one more disappeared person. Another poster on a lamp post if anyone would even bother with that. My fear lent me the strength to resist. To at least try whatever I could do to get free.

With that resolution I could feel a gentle warmth in my hands. Like the growing life in a mountains meadow beneath a warm sun. The gentle summers breeze blowing moisture from winters melting snow. All except that the energy of the green growth was in my hands. Pulsing through my veins and rushing along the synapses of my brain.

The psycho Angel was not happy. Not with my defiance, not with my pause. She coiled up and leaned forward. Wings out slightly, arms forward readying to pounce. “You will submit weak little Magus. You will do so now or you WILL regret it.”

Of a sudden the energy I had grabbed a hold of spiked. No longer a gentle springs day, now a raging torrent turning my vision green. As if looking through tinted glasses. My arms drew up of their own volition, time once more slowing down as some form of liquified Emerald flame began to flow around my forearms down to my fingertips. Reaching for her in tendrils of Eldritch energy. Her eyes grew large as the flowing fire raced in her direction.

She managed to duck down and to the right in a tuck and roll motion. Just in time. Her movements quick enough that I could almost see ripples in the air in her wake. The blast continued on past where she had just been. Into the fixtures and wall she had changed at. The Emerald flame moving in a slowed form, a great rushing sound like a river running over its banks in a flood. Everything the fire touched liquified to crumble and fall. Much like mud that was being washed away by a powerful firehose.

I did my best not to stare or pause in the aftermath as time and space resumed their natural states. I ignored all rationality then, I could be startled later, I could cringe and hide in the corner of my room under my bed some other time. I had watched the wall, sink, pipes, and mirror just fall apart. Just disintegrate. Was this why she wanted me? I almost fell down as the ramifications of my actions caught up.

“No….” I said in a whisper.

A harpies screech broke me out of that reverie. So loud and monstrous I really did almost pee right then and there.

Had to get out.

Get out right now.

C’mon Jayde. MOVE!

Another screech and I bolted like a rabbit. With no care as to how I fled. A gathering of cloth seemed to attempt to entangle my legs so I kicked it free. A couple more strides and I could feel my legs bare and free. Finally. The tile of the malls floor cold and smooth beneath my now bare feet.

I just ran. My t-shirt was already soaked and clung to my skin. Uncomfortable but so much better than trying to face that woman.

She was no Angel. A Harpy, a Demon!

This had to be another Dream! There was no way it was real. I had finally cracked.

There was a mad cackle trying to break free from within my chest.

The green flame, the Angel slash Harpy. My change. The bathroom wall flowing like loose sand. My breast moving uncomfortably on my now smaller torso. It could not be real, only a dream.

I was chanting this as I ran, the mall was a blur, the doorways too as I found myself once more outside. All gone from awareness. I had taken a couple hard turns somewhere and the rain was on my skin. Not a normal Seattle drizzle, no this was an actual full on drown me like a rat downpour.

Over and over I kept repeating ‘Just a dream, not happening, just a dream, can’t be real…’ A rhythm to my feet, aloud to whoever may be able to wake me up. Rationality was leaving my world. If this was a dream I would eventually wake up. All I had to do was run until I woke up.

If it was a dream.

“SHIT!”

I had run into something. It was sturdy and unmoving, in my panic I had somehow screamed out. Everything halted in place as I windmilled my ass attempting not to fall onto my now tiny ass. A hand materialized out of the darkness onto my shoulder, large and comforting. Gentle and yet still firm. The sturdy limb it was attached to had steadied me much better than I could have done. It looked huge, attached to a man that looked to my new perspective to be a hulking giant. I looked up and up to see he was well dressed, over a full head taller than I was. His expression was of worry and concern. Though with an underlying anger that seemed to be barely suppressed.

Why would he seem concerned and still look so angry at me?

Then it broke through my panic induced haze. This wasn’t a dream, it was reality. Somehow I really had become ‘Her’. My reflection and I had switched just like in the Dream. Before I could react further I also realized what his expression was for.

It was the same as the one I would have worn whenever I saw a woman child or friend abused and hurt. That they had been put in danger or harmed. He was looking at me like he was a white night and I was the damsel he had come to rescue. It was my appearance. My attire, or lack there of, and rain soaked body that had triggered his protective instincts.

That brought everything to current. I could now feel everything I had been shunting to the side during my flight. The shock fled my system leaving in its wake a cold that was bone deep. The feelings and hurts my panic had protected me from all returned causing a new panic to come forth. A panic based in shame and embarrassment. I could feel every inch of my body now. How it had shifted and changed. No longer were my shoulders broad, no longer were my hands large. My angular and somewhat gangly physique had fled, leaving in its place a petite frame with soft and supple flesh. Many times more sensitive to touch and texture. Every portion of it feeling exposed under this man’s gaze.

Drenched from the rain wearing only my old and threadbare t-shirt.

The conscious realization that I had literally ran out of the rest of my clothes, including my underwear, left me feeling more naked than I had ever felt in my entire life.

“Are you alright miss? Tell us who did this to you. You are safe with us.” He sounded kind and sincere. A well meaning stranger, dark mahogany skin. Likely an athlete like a basketball player.

The last part of his question struck. ‘Us.’

With him were three other people. Two other men and a woman. All dressed like they were going to a nice restaurant or a bar. Friends out on the town underneath their umbrellas. All with nearly identical expressions of compassion mixed with rage.

What he had said stung. Brought tears to my already strung out and weary eyes. No one had ever tried to help me like this since my mother left. To help because it was the Right thing to do without wanting anything in return. Back when my mother had abandoned me and my worthless father had turned into an alcoholic.

The worst part? The part that cut to the quick? I had to become a tiny young woman to find anyone willing to be kind. Like a protector should. It made me feel even more shamed and helpless than before. The way I could feel the cold and damp of the very loose shirt as it clung to me. How my shilled thighs were touching each other with no jeans or anything in between. To the gapping emptiness, where something should be.

I could not face myself right now, let alone a stranger.

His shout of concern was loud and incoherent to me as I reversed course and rabbitted away. Fear and shame now the driving force adding to my speed. Some other voices joined in as he and others pursued what they most likely believed was a victimized young girl. They would not be wrong, but it was a fear of a different type of danger that even I could not comprehend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Courtney~

“Damned…Magus…. BITCH!!!”

Courtney was screaming as she picked herself up out of the dust and debri left in the wake of the Eldrance blast. A couple of pipes in the wall had been severed in the firestorm. The water that sprayed for the turned some of the extremely fine dust into a sort of plaster. She calmed herself and took further stock of the room. Her outfit was a total write off. The fine particulates were already into the pores of the leather. And her beautiful wings… She felt like she had gone a few tumbles in a dust filled cement mixer.

“Well, isn’t this just some fine happy horseshite. I’m going to bloody kill her.”

She considered what had happened. Somehow the newly born Magus had drawn forth Alchemical Fire. Something that many of the Chosen of Balance have a hard time achieving. Even at the peak of their powers. The damage couldn’t have been much worse if the waif had tossed a grenade at the sink. There would not be any of the chemical traces or scorch marks though. The damage done was of a different sort. Instead of an explosion the emerald flames had torn the molecular bonds of matter, breaking them down into their constituent particle elements. The resulting debris was finer than volcanic ash or talcum powder.

“I bet the fuckuin breeder cops are going to have a fucking pretty peach of a time figuring this out.” Courtney was extra careful not to further disturb any of the piles of dust or the spraying water. As it was, the small air movements in the room from her wings had already upset some of the superfine dust. She had absolutely no wish to get a lungful of this crap. It’d be worse than that asbestos crap that some dim witted human had developed. In her opinion that was one for the idiot pile.

“Ok little missy, let’s see who you are.” Said in a cruel sing song voice. Her taloned fingers hands flexed, as if in anticipation of rending flesh from bone. No matter how dangerous those hands may be, they fished up the youths pants with ease. She pulled out a wad of papers and some plastic cards.

“Seriously? The guppy doesn’t even have a wallet?” She groused as she discarded the detritus, cash, and random papers. She got down to a state ID and a few pictures of people. These she put in a vest pocket that could be barely seen due to how tight the leather of her outfit was.

“Jayde… what a plebian name. Odd spelling for a breeder.”

In another pocket she pulled out a slightly used cell phone and a pair of keys. She pocked the keys and tossed the phone in the garbage. “Useless piece of civilization junk.”

“Damn.” She looked down at herself as she turned to the entranceway. “This outfit is trashed. I just got it too…. pooh  on that.” She sighed. “Oh well, may as well fly in it since it’s ruined anyway.”

Her flippant tone did not match her angry footsteps as she left. A grimace of distance as she had to walk briefly through one of the spraying ruptures to get to the exit.

Once outside of the restroom a security guard spotted her. His comments or demands frozen on his lips at the sight of the dust covered angel who snarled at him. Putting him in his place as if he was a worm she would gladly grind beneath her booted heal. If a woman could look more like a bird of prey the guard did not know. Outside of the mall Courtney took to the sky. Free of the constraints of both ground and the civilized world she launched herself into the heavens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 11

Back at it on a Regular Basis. Yayness.

The tune to “Another One Bites the Dust” popped into my head as I did my final save. Then I could only groan as I just dad-joked myself.

Shameless Self Insert!

Advanced chapters available on my Patreon. I'm gonna try to be more productive.
https://www.patreon.com/alyssnancyonymous

Also, I've got my Discord Channel for anyone who wants to join, chatter, discuss, and enjoy general zaniness.
https://discord.gg/37RPTSv7Ua

TTFN and good luck to all in their lives and pursuits!

Summoned:
Book 1 - An Accidental Adventure
Prologue i

Songs have often been sung of battles Great and Small. Of the Villains and Heroes. Those who won versus those who have lost. In many of these bardic tales a person can find almost any example of humanities challenges. There are very few battles through that can encompass every aspect of humanities challenges as one all inclusive tale. This was one such battle, one of the great spun tales to pass down through the ages. To be told verbally in writing or broadcast on one of the few Tri-D stations still recording on station would not do it the full justice that was required of such a story.

In this battle the Legendary Generals of Humanities last stand were gathered. They had finally baited one of the Scourges from beyond the Void that had wrecked devastation upon the civilizations of the planet known to the local inhabitants as Sandax. Which is also, loosely translated their term for earth or ground. Each of these scourges had claimed great swaths of land covering much of the main continent of Sandax. The Fell Beings they were fighting was an unholy melding of flesh and technology bred of chaotic energies found beyond the Void of Matter and Space. In their Stupidity this particular evolution of humanoids had discovered a way to look into the missing space of matter and energy. Into a place of the Void. Past the equivalency of the Holography of the Universe that they knew as material beings. In that place, the end of all and the Abyss of Time there Demons lay. Beings that had prior to this event had only leaked into the humanoids subconscious and the worst of their nightmares. This scouting had allowed the Demons to piggyback through the rift and to inhabit the flesh and neural matrix known as the physical body thus ejecting the prior inhabiting spiritual matrix.

The experiments of this began as a type of Anti-Matter research. Something to solve the energy crisis of the planet. The opponents, and truthfully many of the proponents, of this technology proclaimed that only annihilation would occur. For many of the survivors this would have been an infinitely more preferable outcome to what ended up actually happening. Which was Demonic Possession and a War so vast that it literally remade the surface of the planet they called home.

While all of this was going on the people found that Technology, and in some cases even physics were not functioning as they should. That the very constants that they had worked for ages to discover and understand had been stood up on its collective head. In some pockets of land electronics of any type would not function. Other locations it was chemical combustion. Some places photons lost their wave form and only maintained their particle nature. Regardless of which aspect it became difficult for any side to maintain not only a standing army but also the civilization necessary to support it. This gave an incredible advantage to the Demonic Forces initially. Until one of the disciples of the first Scientist to discover this altered dimensional activity learned to merge technologies and energies together to enhance a being. These first Technomancers as they came to be known became the populaces last hope as they would take Volunteers and give them powers or enhancements that would allow them to fight the Demons form the Void on their own terms. Even if it did have the result of making these people more or perhaps completely different than their base race.

In response to this rose the great Demon Lords. The Strongest of which could now pull new Demons from the void at their need or their want. That was when the forces of civilization knew they were well and truly ‘Screwed’. Luckily for them, through the ranks of the ‘Created’ and the ‘Enhance’ came a few score of the Great Generals after centuries of warfare. Individuals able to take on all but the Greatest of the Demon Lords. Out of these Great Generals came a dozen Legendary Champions. Strong enough to hold their own against the those most powerful of enemies. They were Strong, Fast, Capable, Forceful, Mighty, Powerful, Charismatic, and more. Everything that was needed to be a Paragon of those remaining peoples with the will to survive. They were here in what could be considered the Eleventh Hour of that Era’s need. Each had reached deep into the well of Energy they drew from going from a figurative beacon of light into a Literal Shining Start. Each of their lights corresponding to the aspect that they drew upon, be it love or anger, longing or grief, joy or excitement. The power of their primary emotions allowed the connection that even showed strong in the physical realm around these Champions leaving trails of power in their wake. As their Brilliance doing battle against the Darkness that was swallowing their planet.

That was happening today. In the streets and buildings of one of the great Megalopolis’s. A great city, now destroyed. A testament to the peoples of this planet. The Denizens and citizens of this city watched, or the smarter of them ran, as Godly beings did battle above and below. Seeking what shelter they could as the multiple forces of many armies took the field causing their own death and dismemberment. Even if it was just an echo of their leaders grand show.

On the field could be found every disciple of fighter. The soldiers, runners, pounders, engineers, slingers and slammers. The seers and the Summoners. Rangers and scouts running force recon and sniping. Every type of being imaginable had taken the to the field. Yet they still were an afterthought against the Demons that seemed to rule the land. Demons such as Braashend the Reshaper, a grotesque multi-limbed monstrosity that seemed to be an amalgam of far too many creatures. Or Crens the Temptress who was as beautiful as she was terrifying, and her champion of light who had fallen from grace Mule Enstrand the Turned. Who was once a great Champion himself but tempted to the Void and in his weakness had taken up her torch.

Things would have been bad enough with only these three Great Demon Lords. However the absolute worst of them had shown itself and tipped the balance towards destruction and corruption.

Xentul the Devourer had taken the field.

A creature that was not truly on any side but its own. More of a force of entropy than anything else. Its horde of biomechanical Ravagers followed. Each having a tendency to absorb the remains of the fallen to turn their cadavers or technology into yet more Ravagers. The Generals had timed this battle on the intelligence that Crens and Xentul were both on the other side of the continent. That they would only be going after Braashend. Yet somehow the others had shown up. Turning a potential conquest that was much needed into a route that the Legendary Generals had been giving their lives one after another to make sure that the greatest number of civilians had a chance to retreat.

The only enemy of humanity to not take the field seemed to be Alasan Soreno. The First Summoner. The originator of the Contract with the Void. The first individual who had discovered a pathway to the Energies Beyond the Heat Death of the Universe. The engage interaction with beings or alien sentience’s outside of what mortals could contemplate without going completely insane. No one had encountered the Infamous Summoner in over an age. There were rumors of course. Such as his finally crossing over into the Void himself or becoming a mindless Ravager in his attempts to blend Oblivion to his own will. Perhaps he had been lost during a titanic battle such as the current location had become on the other side of the continent just barely twenty cycles past. To the other Four Demon Lords this was no great matter that the Great Summoner was gone.

One of the several Legendary Champions of Humanity was already down. His energies sucked clean by the battle and his flesh sundered. Two other champions were attempting to hold of Braashend. While a third valiantly tried to save what she could of the downed Champion.

Below and beside all this was an old man. His robes and equipment marking him as some type of advanced technomancer or perhaps even a summoner. One of the rare individuals with training in affecting the quantum field and the Void energies from which the Demons gained their abilities. Utilizing patterns, forms, sounds, techniques, and gadgets they are able to do this. Their enhancements not only worn but also built into them with modified organs as well as technological mishmashes that conventional wisdom stated would not and could not work. Yet they did. Gears made of advanced clockworks, pressure vacuoles, digital touch screens, transister circuitry, DNA Computer control runs, molecular circuits, holo interface tech, and even analogue datastrip operations systems.

The forces around him seemed to ignore him as he wove through the chaos bred of the battle around. Whenever the forces of either side managed to get close he would wend his way around the debris or wander under a fallen pass or seemingly step into nothingness. His intense concentration on his task obvious on his grizzled old features. White, whispy, almost featherlike hair stood on end and moved in the breeze with his movements. He bore no facial hair, but it was more of a natural hairlessness rather than shaving if one was to look closely. Thin, almost non-existent eyebrows above slate gray deep set eyes completed his craggy face. He carried a wood and metal staff that was entwinned by various wires and a couple control interface panels near the main rubber handgrip. At the base of the staff was a brass bulb and opposite on the top was a jagged assembly of metal. The old man moved to kneel over a fallen form of an elfin looking man. The body was brutalized and torn in half. The poor mans expression a grotesque mask of fear and apprehension that was a testament to his final moments.

“Not the best material to work with here.” He said to no one in particular, his aged face wrinkled in disgust at the sight. “Not like there will be many good candidates left at this rate.” He chuckled quietly to himself at his own sardonic tone.

A sound made him look up from his inspection of the dead man. A clicking rock on metal clatter. The Old Man flicked his free hand in an odd manner that could not be performed by someone with all their knuckles in their normal socketed order. With a mutter his eyes glowed as if backlit by an electric diode. He then stepped up and backwards into a fold of nothingness leaving only the battle chattel on the ground.

Through the location where the old man had been standing a tall being moved. Flesh that may once have been handsome, now twisted into a grotesque horror of its own insatiable hunger. Sallow and pallid skin that could once have held a healthy tan now stretched and sagged. Here and there as the flesh had failed materials of all sorts had been used to repair the creature. Be it circuitry, hydraulics, servomotors, flesh of other creatures, or even gearworks. Whatever it could take it had in the living not-death that had to constantly feed or deteriorate even further. One eye had been replaced by an old styled camera lens with some extra electronics the other was a rheumy white within a decaying putrid yellow orb. The left hands flesh stretched taughtly over bones and metal struts that had been stuck inside haphazardly. A great rotting cloak of various patchwork skins covered much of the rest of its body and the creatures right arm. As it moved an observer would be able to make out bits and parts that fit together in no discernable fashion on its horrid body. A whirring and clicking of broken parts could be heard as it shambled along. Not like a well oiled machine but rather like some form of insectile automaton that was broken and still attempting to function even with its damaged parts.

The Old Man had known this creature.

Xentul the Devourer.

It stopped over the body and craned its head to one side. Not to different from a reptile or avian attempting to understand what it was looking at. Its artificial eye lens whirled around in its socket before popping open to allow an undamaged humanlike eye to extend on a servo arm and gaze closer at the deceased creature below it. As soon as it gained a proper vantage point Xentul stopped dead. All noise from it ceased, not a movement nor any sound for several heartbeats as The Devourer became as still as a statue. An instant later with an economy of motion that would have given a robotic servant a good run Xentul reached down and squeezed the right arm of the man off at the elbo with a sickening sound of crunching bones and squelching flesh. Once the partial limb was wretched free the being shrugged back its cloack some and moved its right arm into sight. The end of the arm looked like a hybrid prosthetic and flesh limb that had been run over by a boulder then left to rot in the sun. From the elbow joint down The Devourer allowed the material to slough off onto the ground next to the body. Then it took the dismembered arm and stuck the pulped joint onto the wreckage on the end of the part still attached. A grey sickly goop seeped out of its flesh and onto the fresh meat. This material joined the two dissimilar organisms enough to be connected. Even if only just so.

Xentul flexed its new hand clumsily a couple times. Apparently satisfied it gave what could only be interpreted as a contemptuous wave with its mangled left hand as it walked bast the battle offal. Once the Demon Lord disappeared out of view of the deceased and its own dropped body part the remaining gearworks in the limb began to sluggishly attempt to twitch and move to the body near it.

The Old Man stepped back into existence as if stepping in from another room. “Damn, I had hoped he was still engaged…” He said to himself absent mindedly as he looked down at the revolting limb piece, “Oh no you don’t!”

His staff began to buzz from within. A series of commands were tapped into the mechanical keypad on the staff. After which the chaotic design of prongs on the top of the staff began to flare with a red and purple fire. He pointed the projection at the arm fragment and torched it with the arcane looking flame thrower until it was nothing more than a slag of material melting into the earth below it.

“I am pretty sure that this fallen hero does not wish to walk once more as a Ravager.” He stated as he began to incinerate the body before he moved in a different direction than what Xentul had gone.

Once past the ashen remains of the fallen being the Old Summoners path more often than not brought him in contact with those already slaughtered or destroyed. Every now and then he was forced to fade into the InBetween like before to avoid detection as the battle or forces from either side came tromping through. It also was not only the Demonic forces from the Void and their legions that he was avoiding, but also the forces of the fallen civilizations that he wished to evade. He knew what would happen if those forces of humanities gone past would do if they discovered he was more than the simple Technomancer that he pretended to many to be. After all though it had been many years since Alansan Soreno had created the First Summoning Event the term was still forever tainted in the view of the various civilizations. Alienating all who had felt the inexplicable call of the path of the Summoner. As such he did his absolute best to avoid everyone and everything as he went about his tasks.

Eventually he came upon the fallen body of one of the Great Generals. As he moved slowly to her side he watched another champion nearby engage the still moving Xentul.

“Stupid… you should retreat.” He said towards the Champion under his breath even as he knew that the exemplary fighter could not hear him.

He kept part of his attention on the two embattled beings in case their battle came near. The Demon Lord had manifested a great fell sword made of a fearful melding of ruined metals and still living flesh. Its counterpart was matched by an extremely fit man with braided hair wielding a long sword made of light created seemingly in his own hands. The Old Man saw that the two of them appeared to be moving roughly away from him and as such he put his attention closer to the woman on the ground.

“There may yet be time.”

The tall fair skinned woman was not breathing. A grievous wound in her gut that opened her up from right hip all the way up through the left portion of her ribcage. Internal organs and bones on display to the exposed air around them. Her vibrant hair was plastered with blood and a stark contrast as her skin drained of color. He placed a circular device on her chest above the right breast. Its copper and iron works would seem to be strangely complementary to the Emerald metallic style markings on her body. Once in place the disc shot out four appendages at the compass points around its surface. They turned downward and sunk into the pliant flesh with very little blood flow from the puncture points. After he was satisfied with it the Old Man concentrated and his eyes began to glow as if backlit once again. The clockworks on the device started to spin up, their whirring intensified and lessened as if to the beat of a heart. With every cog styled heartbeat her body became more and more translucent until she faded entirely from view.

Once done the Old Man stood up and looked over at the battle which seemed to once more be drifting his way. “Damnation. I hope I can retrieve at least another few before they are too desecrated beyond recovery.”

With that said he once more stepped backwards into the InBetween. Once there the combatants rampaged through the space he had occupied never knowing that he had been there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Prologue i

Post Note -

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Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –

Chapter 01

Authors Note –

Now that we are done with the Prologue, the POV will shift from individual to individual. As such, it is no longer 3rd person Omniscient but 3rd person narrative. Meaning if the character can’t see it then the story won’t show it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Nicholas~

The room was dark beyond his closed eyes. Something reeked of burnt electronics and charred flesh. He found his head was splitting. Throbbing in tune with a powerfully thumping heart. That was a secondary concern for Nick however. His primary consideration was to figure out what was going on, where he found himself to be.

His whole body felt off. It had an ache, that of not moving for a very long time mixed with a sort of tingling like a limb that had fallen asleep. Very similar to when he had an off road dirt bike accident that had put him in traction because he had broken parts of his neck and back. Though this was an order of magnitude stronger. His thoughts were in disorder. Eventually his near full body migraine began to fade. As it did so he began to track better, his mental acuity once more taking the fore. He hoped beyond hope that he wasn’t a physically shattered wreck again.

When the pain subsided enough to form anything coherent his first thoughts were ‘Wouldn’t that just beat all.’

He waited a bit longer to see if anything changed. It did seem to help with abating the pain, yet his body still felt very ‘off’. After what felt like a half hour of gentle breathing but was likely only a few minutes Nick marshaled himself to get up.

“May as well.” He said. Or tried to that is. Instead something else garbled out. That was bad enough. Worse was that the voice doing the garbling was not the one he was used to. He did not know whose it was. It sounded both more and less than what he was used to. Perhaps a bit higher octave, perhaps a bit lower. He couldn’t quite tell. Though that could just be the damage from whatever accident he had to have been in.

Desperately Nick attempted to remember what had happened. He remembered work and a college campus. He also remembered hanging out and gaming together. For the life of him though he could not remember anything passed that. Definitely nothing that could account for the feeling of being of traction.

‘Alrighty then… Talking worked so well, why not just open my eyes.’

‘yeah… eyes. Those things. C’mon Nick.’

With what felt like a herculean effort he managed to get one eye partially open. Only one for a moment. With a grunt he managed to get the other one. Everything felt disjointed. Even just thinking through the simple process of moving his eyelids. It was almost as if he had forgotten how to move them and needed to just think through even the simplest of movements.

‘Did I have a stroke?’ He was in no small amount of panic. ‘At least I can still see… I think…’

It was a sight indeed. In front, or likely above him, were wire runs and plumbing tubes held in servo styled open shelled robotics mixed with some strange technology. It was recessed into a slightly curved rocklike ceiling. Not a few or even several but a veritable rats nest or spiderweb of materials. He attempted to process it all, as he did so something dawned on him. There wasn’t a visible light source. Sure there was a blinking something like a LED off to his left in his peripheral vision. Something bluish glowed behind one of the wire tangles above. Though those were nowhere near enough to be able to see with any clear definition. It was Dark with a capital D in here. Yet he could see as if it was only just after sundown.

He didn’t even know how he knew it was dark. From his vision it wasn’t. He just knew it was. Just as much as he knew there was something wrong with his body. He felt almost like a foot shoehorned into a stiff boot that was a few sizes too small.

At the edges of his vision Nick could see a lot of equipment of various types. Some were video screens straight out of an office complex, others were old school television tubes without any casing. Sort of like the ancient Magnivox he helped his father tear apart to turn it into a custom entertainment center. Then there the items that he could only categorize under ‘something else’.

Nick took his time to work around his headache and the sort of semi-paralysation he found himself under. He attempted to take stock of everything that he was able to. So far he had trouble moving anything without concentrating very hard as well as a lot of pain. He could not remember any wreck, and as for a stroke… he couldn’t actually rule that on out. In fact he could not remember much before waking up here. When he tried to dial into any specifics of his life he seemed to swim or didge into zones of zip, nada, and zilch. Still he did keep on trying to focus on his past even if it was to minimal avail.

He felt like an age or more was passing. He didn’t really know. Right now his internal clock was really messed up. When he focused on it some sort of imagery of figures superimposed themselves into the upper right hand area of his vision.

‘Odd… I think directly on time passing and get something like a clock? But I’ll be damned if that’s English.’ He took a second to focus on it. ‘or any other language I think I’ve ever seen.’

Whatever the figures were they didn’t have any corresponding similarities to anything he was familiar with. Even the sci-fi languages or fantasy shows that he and his friends watched. They were kind of a geometric like shape set in nine distinct places. The ones on the left of the set changing the fastest but felt like they were a bit longer in duration than a full second. With no frame of reference he couldn’t really tell though.

After sixteen changes to the leftmost digit it recycled and the next place shifted on figure.

‘Base sixteen. So a hexadecimal clock? That’ll be a bronze coated bitch to convert on the fly.’

Nicholas did not feel tired, and counting numbers like sheep attempting to brain themselves by jumping over a fence held no interest either. It would be worth the potential pain to get up, if only to figure out what was going on.

“Warlle….” He attempted to speak again, but the unintellectual grunt only proved how hard it was with his tongue still so gluey in his mouth. He cleared his throat and worked his stiff jaw a little. “Wrell.. thart es uh little bettr…”

‘Maybe I just haven’t spoken in a long time. Like my tongue is out of practice or something?’ He was a bit amazed at the concept, after all even when he had awoken in traction after his bike accident it had not been that long he had been unconscious.

With a grunt of discomfort Nick managed to turn his head to the left. Still an odd timbre to his ears but it was definitely from his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment, the distraction of the clock still there even after the room went away. Though it didn’t feel as intrusive as he had initially thought it would.

Eyes open once more he saw that the room was even stranger than he had initially thought. It looked like some the industrial revolution had a bastard offspring with Star Trek while being raised by Frankenstein’s Nanny with a liberal dash of Battlestar Galactica or Farscape for good measure. All of the equipment in the room was exposed in some manner so that the wires or leads shown through and the guts were on full display. None of it made any sense to Nicks trained eye unless it was only there as some strange poor science fiction movie prop. It was like a technophile hoarders dream stash after they had managed to raid the Universal Studio’s special effects dumpster.

Such as the vacuum tube computer. Complete with punch card program file stacks that had a set of heavy duty electrical or data cables leading into a cabinet that resembled a Chinese geared calculation machine. For some reason as confusing as it was he didn’t think it was fake. There seemed to be some actual purpose to the chaotic merging of various technologies. The random screens, cables, pipes, keyboards, pullies, and even a strange set of what looked like accordions that looked functional. Like they had been used a lot over the course of many years.

Though the cybernetic bulls head with a pigs snout that was watching him did kind of freak him out. Only a little bit though. Really.

So far the least bizarre thing in his view was the large granite statue of a man that was on what looked like a surgical examination table. It was only a few feet away and Nick could not really understand why someone would take the time to put it there. It was like someone had decided to carve a dead man and lay him down for a nap. Except that there were wires and tubes coming down from the ceiling or up from the table and leading into the thing. Somewhat like the wires that were above him falling downwards.

“Least there is a privacy towel on you.” His slur was a bit better but still there. “I wouldn’t want a full Statue of David for my only companion.” Something about the tone of his voice still bothered him. Differently though now that he heard more of it. He wasn’t quite sure what it was but it was so he put it to the back of his mind, refusing to resolve it at this time.

“So…. Alien abduction scenario. Check.”

Earlier in his life Nick had gone through a conspiracy nut phase and he still considered himself rather open minded since then. Yet at the end of the day he no longer believed in any of it. However with the evidence of the extra-ordinary in front of him he was beginning to have troubles keeping his breath steady. It took a bit of time and a lot of breathing exercises to pull himself back from the brink of a full on panic attack. Or at least on par enough for the situation he found himself in.

He felt enough less pain to move a bit more. As he sat up he felt his muscles shift and complain. Soreness in places he wasn’t sure he had. Even when he had been on huge benders and woke up afterwards without remembering what had happened he still had never felt the aches and cricks his body was giving him. Yet the most disturbing part was a sort of shifting weight that was pulling him forward a bit located on his chest.

With some trepidation he looked downwards.

“Well, those are new.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Malachai~

“Oooooo……… Do Not want to do that again.” A female voice complained somewhere nearby bringing Malachai to awareness. Also it brought no small amount of pain. Wanting to move or otherwise seemed a bit out of his control at this time. His brainfog was just too much to overcome what seemed to be wrong.

‘That must have been one hell of bender.’ He thought to himself. He had been in the United States long enough to encounter its bizarre culture. Especially its college culture. It had given the youth quite an education on Benders. He made an attempt to reach his hand up to his head so as to massage his temples. Or maybe at least to discover how bad it really was.

Apparently that wasn’t on the agenda for him. For some reason though his arm twitched, as well as any other part he attempted to move, nothing seemed properly connected. It was all thee, the residual pain told him that if nothing else. It was just that he was misfiring. Like the chemicals running his nervous system were being derailed somewhere between his conscious thoughts and the actual implementation of them.

“Take it easy there.” The same voice as before said as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not sure where you’re from, why they took us, or even if you understand me… but it is best to start slow. Whatever happened we may only have each other to lean on.”

Malachai found he liked the husky alto voice. He would be happy to listen to her as long as he could. Then what she said got through. ‘Took Us’ resonated with much of the problems of his youth. Being from a country so close to both Russia and the Middle East meant that kidnapping and abduction was a very real thing and not just a Hollywood plot or nationwide news event. Something that can and did happen to people you knew.

He tried to sit up. Muscles still rebellious, still aching. A couple false starts and he was panting laying on his back once more with eyes pinched shut.

“Mrrmmrrnnn…” His voice and throat felt dusty from lack of use.

Talking would be out of it for a bit he felt, but it managed to focus him enough to open up his eyes. To see one of the most strikingly attractive women he had ever seen. He wasn’t sure but she also looked to be built of Amazonian proportions. Shoulder length strawberry red hair, fair skin, the perfect amount of freckles. With some type of metallic body paint that did nothing to cover anything. Instead it enhanced her femininity as well as to her lethality more than just the well toned muscles alone. She had deep emerald eyes, pure like gems of the highest grade. These pulled him in, capturing his attention away from all other aspects. Including her nudity.

“Ingerul meu…” He tone was breathless as he called her his Angel in Romanian. For the sight of her not only stole his breath but made what was left only a sultry whisper.

She smiled, the sort of grin of a woman enjoying humor at an inside joke. “So, I guess you can’t understand me then.”

Her face and expression captivated Malachai. Completely. He tried to sit up once more, if only so that he could view her better.

“Hold on miss. You’re connected to the bed. Trust me, you don’t want to get out of the bed or even sit up until some of it is removed.” The Angel still had one warm palm on his shoulder. The other was helping to restrain as well as cover a rather ample bosom.

“For you I wait.” He said in the same breathless whisper. His voice wasn’t just weak. It was off. That didn’t matter too much to him, at least he could still talk.

“Good. You do speak English.” She said with a smirk. “I was worried we wouldn’t be able to communicate.” She looked down at Malachai’s body then back up to his face. “I am going to begin getting some of these tubes and wires out of you. Is that alright? It may feel a bit… different.”

Malachai nodded his consent. The red head leaned forward, her posture one that he found most attractive. He felt a tightening in his core at the sight, but different than normal. One that stemmed in his belly, behind and below his naval rather than in his groin. As he was attempting to figure the warmth out the Angel tugged on something and Malachai’s eyes bulged as something like a jagged metal splinter being pulled out between the muscles in his neck.

His scream was probably the girliest scream that the youth from Romania had ever shouted out in his life.

“Aiiiiiiiiaaaahhhh!!!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 01

So! Finally on to the main event! Also, I'm pretty sure many of you figured where each person who end up in. But the reaction's half the fun, ne?

As a side note (And shameless plug): For anyone who wants to get ahead I have up to chapter 06 on my Patreon and I generally post 1 or two chapters a week there or more! (I really enjoy writing, plus your support will give me more time to devote to it!)

Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Chapter 02

Authors Note - 2nd Chapter! Hope you guys and gals and everything in between enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Felix~

A scream with a capital S brought Felix bolt upright out of a dreamless sleep.

Just as quickly he was floored back down when lightning arcs of pain flared throughout his back, neck, and arms. Like he had been stabbed or shot at each point. The pain as bad as if he had been sent literally though a meat grinder.

Once back down he could feel a few very uncomfortable cables or kinks underneath his back. Had bolts been run through his muscles or something?

Felix tried to talk but his mouth seemed to be as messed up as the rest of his body was. However, he needed to get up as soon as he was able to. A scream like that meant that someone was in trouble. He may be something of a rules-monger with his friends, and troublemaker with others, but when push came to shove Felix always reverted to a straight forward protector. So he made another anguished attempt to get up and out of whatever was holding him down. Once he was mobile, or at least more awake, then whoever was harming the screaming person would be in for a world of hurt.

“Son of Rutting Whore!” A breathy woman’s voice cursed in a Slavic accent. “What bastard put in…” Her voice trailed off before suddenly erupting into an excessively long string of some Eastern European language.

Even without knowing any of it Felix could feel his ears burning as the woman cursed so heavily he was sure that Army Sergeants to Navy Sailors coast to coast would now be blushing.

While the woman cursed he could feel the muscles on his neck and back begin to uncramp. Soon he was able to open his eyes to the rats nest of materials on the ceiling. Interesting as he found it was he needed to figure out more about his other surroundings. Especially as the mish mash of technologies was kind of creeping him out.

'Isn't this where someone yelled something about "It's Alive!"?’ he thought.

Slowly he also began to take note of how well he could see. He couldn’t see any source of light and there did not seem to be any shadows of any type. He could just see in perfect ambience. Sort of like his eyes naturally had light amplification built in.

After what felt like several minutes the cursing finally abated to a slow torrent. Likely not really that long, probably only a minute or two. Long enough though. Once she slowed down another voice spoke up, also female. This one was husky, divine to his ears.

“Settle down please, let me help.”

Some more cursing, and then the sound of metallic items hitting stone. Probably the floor if he was reading the room correctly.

“Ok, that one you REALLY will want me to – “

The other one yelled again followed by a seriously inspired bit of invective.

For the life of him Felix couldn’t suppress laughing. He could only imagine the scene as if it was a Netflix show or something like that.

“Since you have that one taken care of I’m sure you can handle the last few. It sounds like one o the boys are waking up so I’m going to go help him out.”

Felix’s neck was still very stiff and sore from whatever had happened. It was difficult and he may have strained it when he had startled upwards earlier.

“Wait moment. I help.” The whispery voice said followed by more cursing. Then a pair of what sounded like bare feet slapping down onto stone. “Still no understanding why this.”

A pair of stunning faces came into his field of view. The taller, by a few heads, looked almost like an Irish version of Wonder Woman. The shorter woman looked sort of oriental with almost porcelain fine skin and raven black hair cut to a forward swept fame ending at her jawline. It was the smaller one with the whispery phone sex worker voice. Though for some reason he was pretty sure this was her normal form of speaking.

“I had perfect body. Strong. Fierce. Mine!”

Normally Felix wouldn’t have noticed their faces and ethnicities first. Normally he would have been paying more attention to their state of undress. Especially the red headed bombshell standing over him.

“I always knew I’d die and end up in the hands of some beautiful women.” He slurred out through a tongue feeling unused in his mouth as he took in the rest of her form.

The busty taller woman rolled her eyes at his comment. “Now I know how Power Girl feels.” She stated, one arm holding her breasts the other one pointing up at her face. “Eyes up here buddy.”

The smaller girl giggled. She didn’t appear nearly as concerned about her nudity as the metallic green painted one was.

“Did I die and end up in an Adults only Comic Con then?”

Red shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. Though, given the spectacular state of your skin I would rather doubt it.”

“What’s wrong with my skin?” Felix felt a little bit concerned.

He looked between the two of them quickly but not down yet as even moving his eyes hurt a little let alone his neck. He loved how the metallic body paint enhanced the beauty of the Irish woman. How the geometric designs and patterns flowed under her breasts in three long stripes per side, each one over a rib. The two interposed triangles on each forearm and the thin slashes along her jawline. The other, her porcelain skin seemed to have an opalescent sheen to it. Her shiny raven hair shot through with stipes of crimson and deep blue. The perfect ideal of a modern gothic girl. Where the red head could give She Hulk a run in the buxom bad ass brigade the Asian gal was a slight woman with a whipcord thin athletes build.

The smaller of the two cocked her head to the side with an expression he had seen directed at him far too often. “So, starry sky skin normal?”

“What do you mean? I don’t have…” He trailed off as she grabbed a hold of his hand and lifted it into his field of vision.

He no longer bothered to ogle the two other women. All the aches and pains vanished to the back of his mind as he sat up to look down at himself. Every other concern also fell to the wayside. He watched in fascination as his limb seemed to look like staring into the night sky unblemished by cloud or cover. Stars to every direction and slightly off to one side was something akin to a galactic core. The belt of which had to be the smattering of stars that he thought of as the Milky Way. He gazed at the stellar cloud on one arm as he moved it around. His flesh may move, but the view did not. No matter how he maneuvered or twisted it. As if he was only a window that even if moved did not change the view to the landscape beyond.

“Oh my god… I’m full of Stars.”

A short bark of a laugh escaped from the red head before she could stifle it. She looked a little embarrassed at her reaction, he wasn’t really sure why she would find it that funny. He really was full of stars.

Felix looked over at the two of them and considered them again in a new light. Yes, both of them were nude. Now that he was sitting up he was able to answer the question regarding curtains and drapes as well. On one, though. Not the other. He could also see four other beings of various forms of humanity on the other beds. One woman and three men. All nude, all with tubes wires and leads in them. All with privacy towels on their waists. The woman had lightly tanned skin and very long metallic silver hair. A huge juggernaut made out of stone. A short islander with long braided hair and dusky rose colored skin. Last was a blue skinned man who reminded him of the guys from the movie Avatar, minus the braided hair however. Perhaps dusky rose guy stole it.

“I don’t think this is funny anymore.”

Red answered him. “Me neither. I’m voting Alien Abduction and Experimentation.”

“You already vote that.” The Asian girl said as she started messing with some of Felix’s tubes.

“Then I vote it again.”

Felix saw her look around the room. After a moment he did the same. The oddness of the room not lost on him. He opened his mouth to say something when he felt a sharp yanking pain from his left shoulder.

“OUCH! Wha’d’ya do that for!?!”

The Asian gal stood there one hand on hip and cockily spinning a cable slightly off to the side. “You need uncoiled before more wake.” She laughed a breathy laugh. “I want see how deal with under towel.”

With a sick feeling to his gut Felix looked down at his lap. He found out two things, yes his starry skin went all the way down. Second was that he had tubing connecting up and into his unmentionables.

“You have got to be kidding me. You guys know, I blame Nick for this.”

Felix was pretty sure that sitting here with his skin strangely changed also meant that his companions would hardly catch his reference. Yet both of them became deathly still and stared intensely at him.

“What… did… you… just… say?” Red let out slowly.

“Umm… I blame Nick for this?” His voice pitched up a little towards the end as he cringed. There were many possibilities for her reaction swimming around Felix’s mind right then. Many centered on whatever in that statement may have offended her. Though for the life of him he could not figure out what that would have been.

“I can’t let you do that Dave.” Her voice was deadpan.

That however was definitely not what he was expecting. In fact it left him a bit dumbfounded. There was no sane or reasonable explanation to it. Yet the smaller woman’s equal measure of jaw dropped shock as she looked at Red it seemed that it was the only one that fit.

“Roll a Die Six.” Felix said quietly.

“Who’s gonna run this raid.” She returned.

“Always remember your towel.”

“And Don’t Panic.”

“Thanks for all the Fish.”

“It’s bigger on the inside.”

The petite Asians head had been ping ponging back and for the whole time before she acted. She jumped forward and grabbed the two of them into a big hug. He felt her tears on his strange skin, her cheek nestled into his chest. Meanwhile his own face had been pressed into the red haired amazons own ample assets. Normally this would be a dream come true but considering who the two girls had to be caused no small amount of conflict.

“Uh… Malachai… I think? Please let go?” He asked while attempting to think very unsexy thoughts as he felt his lower half begin to stir.

She continued to hold on tight. Though the one who had to be his friend Nick pushed back a little, managing to separate herself from the three with ease. Which allowed him to rearrange his towel.

Malachai in his, now her, small new body looked up and sniffed a little. “What do now?”

She sounded so small. More so with the whispery voice. A voice that was almost as distracting to Felix as their state of dress. Especially as she was still so close he could feel the heat from her body.

“Fucked if I know. But I’ll lay you guys odds that James and Chris are in one of these others.” Nick said and slapped the table of the granite skinned man lightly. As an afterthought she added, “Oh and there’s an old dead guy.”

“I him blame. Nick only fuck with ass monkeys in Game.”

All three got a laugh as some of their old banter cleared a bit of the anxiety. “So what now?”

“Tubes off.” Malachai whispered in his ear. Before Felix could figure out what she meant he felt another painful tug on his side as something was pulled out from under his fleh. When pulled it caused his vision to flash and sparkle for a moment.

“WHAT IN THE FUCK MAN!”

Malachai came around to stand in front of him. Hand on hips looking just like one of his pissed off girlfriends. Except none of them had ever confronted him in the buff before.

To call it mildly distracting would have been an understatement.

“Cables off ‘Man’ otherwise stuck to bed.”

Felix knew this would be a very conflicting experience. At least he was here with a couple of his friends and not stuck in this strange room all alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End Chapter 02

Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Chapter 03
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Nicholas~
Wandering off to the side Nick rolled his, well her, eyes at Felix and Malachai’s antics. Seeing everyone in their all together was rather disconcerting. Bodies not-withstanding of course. She was also working on coming to grips with her new body. Definitely taller. At least six and a half feet if not more if her guess at the others heights were anything to go for. The longer legs and arms were actually tripping her up more than her shifted center of gravity and new… ahem… jiggly bits. It didn’t help that her new flesh was so sensitive. It also wasn’t very helpful that though she hadn’t even seen her reflection she knew her new form had to be quite a looker from her friends reactions.

“Could be worse. I could be a warrior slave to some interdimensional tentacle monster.”

“Who know we no slave now?” Malachai returned from where she was battling with getting Felix unhooked.

“Point.” Nick shuddered a little as she leaned forward to look at the Old Man she had tripped over on her way to Malachai when the smaller woman had gained consciousness.

She overbalanced and had to reach out both hands to catch herself on a table. With a curse muttered under her breath she lowered herself to a kneeling position next to the body.

“Ha! Least I no top heavy since I woman too.” Came the breathy whispered reply.

“Yeah, at least Nicky doesn’t sound like a phone sex operator.” Felix shot at the smallest of their group. His grumbled tone spoke volumes of his annoyance of getting disconnected from the bed so forcefully by Malachai.

Both women glared at him.

“Really Felix? ‘Nicky?’ You couldn’t come up with something less trope?”

Felix glanced over to where the tall woman was bending over. “You’re not exactly a Nicholas anymore are youuuueeeeEEOOOUCH!!!”

Malachai had a pair of slim cables that had been snaked under his skin, the leads still dripping a sort of sickly purple liquid. “You are insensitive twat.”

“That really hurt you know.”

She glared delightedly at him. “Good.”

“Why don’t you girls have scars or blood from these?” He paused as the ‘girls’ in question glared at him again. “Sorry, Guys, I meant Guys…. not Girls.”

“See Nick. He teachable.”

“I’m not really sure about that.” Nick said with a quiet laugh. “Though, as the blood? I know how much it hurt to remove, but it was like my skin sealed up immediately. Sort of like a certain varmint named mutant you are fond of?" She was looking down at her forearm where she had pulled out two longish rubbery surgical tubes. There were no marks there, though blood had come out when they had been removed.

“Sounds reasonable enough. Hey! Hands off, let me get that one!” Felix batted Malachai’s hands away from another wire.

Nick chuckled under her breath again and left the two to removing the stuff that she was sure must’ve been some form of life support equipment for their new bodies. She was studiously avoiding what it all meant for now. First she felt it more important to discover more of the strange room she found herself in. The man on the floor wasn’t much to look at compared to the rest of them. Just a bundle of rags and cloaks next to an odd staff that looked like it belonged on the set of Mad Max. His body looked like a fried half mummified piece of human jerky that until only recently clung to the last vestiges of life.

Throughout the body and clothes Nick could see various gadgets or devices just as eclectic and odd as the equipment in the room. Some of the gearworks still ticked away and there were digital displays flickering on and off as well.

She leaned closer and cursed as her breasts swung beneath her. The sensation was very different and one she was not ready for. “Damned body, what am I going to even use as clothes? A Tent?”

Done being sardonic with herself Nick poked at the crumpled form. She flipped a piece of cloth cloak to the side curiously. Underneath and apparently embedded into the right side of his chest was a half circle gadget that seemed to be a hybrid of exposed clockworks and smartphone interface. The gears were busily clacking away even though they seemed to be poorly adjusted and warped out of frame. The two inch by three inch kidney bean shaped screen flickered a blue and black color on and off. However after about four of the sixteen revolutions of the visual clock she saw it would go black and seemingly start again. Lines of text similar to the clock yet different flowed haltingly until the reset then started over.

‘Some sort of reboot sequence?’

There was a piece of jagged metal jammed into the flesh beside the device at an angle that Nick thought would possibly intersect inside the gear housing. She removed the part that really didn’t look like it was part of this specific hodge-podge. As soon as the nearly seven inch long metal shard was removed the clockworks pulled themselves back together. No longer did they click and clack, now they whirled up to a speed and moved to a metronome perfection. This time the display did not reset itself at the end of the fourth cycle of the clock.

“Hey guys, check this out.” She said as she stood up to look over at them. The scene she turned to made her laugh. Felix was fighting Malachai off as she was attempting to remove the last few, and the most uncomfortable of the attachments. “Or maybe I should tell you both to get a room.”

The two looked over at her comically. A sort of twin blink blink action going on. This made Nick laugh again. She was sure that Felix was blushing but with his strange star filled skin she could not tell. At least with his violet eyes and shoulder length white hair she could tell that he was indeed looking at her. Malachai however seemed shameless as she took some of her frustration of her situation out on the most socially dense person of their group.

“No need room. He need tuber out of pecker so he able help with others.”

“It is a cathartic tube and I am perfectly able to remove it myself.” Felix countered in a huff.

“Then do. Or I do.”

“I will when you, uh… well…”

“What. When I? What?”

Yeah Felix was definitely blushing this time. “Could you look away please?”

Nick snorted at the same time that Malachai lunched forward and finally got his towel away from him.

“You no have nothing I never see before.” She looked down at her own body then continued in a purposefully sultry whisper. “I however may have parts you no see yet.”

“HA! Malachai’s got you there,” Nick heard something from the floor beside her. “Huh?”

The desiccated body was moving, her eyes widened in fear as it snaked a hand out to grasp her around her ankle. It said something that sounded both panicked and confused though the guttural clicking language was something she had never heard before. Nicholas watched as the room and her friends began to fade from view.

“NOOOOOOO!!!!”

She attempted to escape the vicelike grip and run to Felix and Malachai who were looking at her with the same panicked terror in their eyes as everything disappeared once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~The Old Man~
- Reboot Initiated
- Reboot Initiated
- Reboot Initiated

He was not sure how many times the system had attempted to restart. He was conscious within the damaged shell of his body. Unable to act, or even sense the world around him, the Old Man had watched far to many aborted cycles to rest easy. The only thing he could think of that would prevent his core control and regenerative artifice from working would be if something of similar or stronger materials had jammed into it. Otherwise he would either be dead or his system would have absorbed it for parts.

- Reboot Initiated
- Reboot Initiated
- Reboot Initiated

Of the most likely events to have initiated this debilitation upon him the simplest was an explosion of one of the Summoning Artifices which indicated a failure on his part. That was bad enough as it was. The summoning back of the Soul Matrices was a one time chance. A gamble. The energies got geometrically harder to harness back into alignment with the molecular vibrations of their body vessels as time progressed.

Because of the vibrational aspect of the body vessel to its original ‘Soul’ it had to be done right the first time to call it back. If the Science, Aether, and Artifice was not exactly on track it could potentially lead to ‘Bad Things’ happening. Do it wrong and the Void could enter instead. Which is how the very first Demon Lords had gained access to the world.

- Reboot Initiated
- Reboot Initiated
- Reboot Initiated

Now if only he could sense anything other than darkness. His entire existence was the attempted initiation of his personal Artifice CyberNeuro systems reboot sequence. The techno-organic components of his body would slowly rebuild his damaged body, even if they had to replace what few regular organics remained. However a functional body would be useless without the Artifice Interface required to link his consciousness to reality.

- Reboot Initiated
- Reboot Initiated
- Reboot Initiated

The other consideration that truly scared him was that his safehold was compromised and either the Void had claimed the Champions he was trying to save. That one or more of the Fell Demon Lords had breached his safehold.

- Reboot Initiated…. Systems Restoration Diagnostics
- Combat Systems Damaged
- Technical Interface Compromised
- Mobility Impairment Detected
- Molecular Phase Nominal
- Systems Interface Nominal

The list continued onwards with various status listings available. Some time had passed but his Artifice could not calculate it as of yet. His actual vision began to reach through the terminal interface overlay. He began to regain control of a body that felt drained and more than partially crippled.

He opened his eyes to what he most feared. If his Soul Rejoining Summons had been successful then the equipment would have kept the Champions in a comatose state until he could have brought them awake one by one properly. It would have kept them under nearly indefinitely. Instead he saw that something wearing the body of one of the Champions, that of Battles Mistress, had gotten up and was squatting over him. Two others, Xyr and Esenz, were arguing over something in a Language that sounded halting and mumbled. As if their words were spoken with gruel and mash in their mouths.

“No…” he whispered.

As they worked on removing more of the obviously failed support systems he took a cursory look around the room. Something must have drained the power nodes from his equipment as almost nothing seemed active. Those nodes would have kept his room secure for generations. However as he was still alive they must not yet have realized where they were or who they inhabited. That of course would change once they had a chance to familiarize themselves with their new corporeal bodies.

“Void Take you Back! From Whence you came I will Send you Again!”

He reached out a ravaged hand and grabbed the ankle of the Fell One inhabiting Angelica Pentel. Though his flesh was regaining structure and capability it was still too far gone for a fight against one of the Champions let alone three. Perhaps if he leveled the field a little he could take her out before the creature discovered to use Pentel’s Wings. He would have to be fast. His aged and degraded systems took longer to regenerate than any of the Champions of the Created Systems. He should know after all, the Old Man had been one of the people who had helped enhance and uplift the Generals. He was but a minor hailstorm to their Glacial Strength. But a hailstorm hitting at the right angle and point can shatter even the mightiest stone.

As the three turned towards him a lever popped up out of the side of his Artifice control interface. He felt it link to his rooms remaining emergency shunts. ‘Still running thank the Brightness for that.’ Even reduced the nodal points should have enough remaining within to do the job. The Old Man hated to do this, but he felt he was out of options. He mentally entered the command lines to cause the hidden bunker to purge itself and all of its contents randomly along the lines of power of the planet. Hopefully the Fell will be killed off by whatever forces they land into as they reappear. If not, then at least everything would be scattered to the winds and unable to be used to awaken more Demon Lords.

That way he could take out his oldest friend and adopted daughter himself.

The feeling of slamming the control lever in his back home was like shattering of two hearts. Both that of his Sanctum and that of his family given what must be his final task.

Everything faded as the shunt activated. All except for the Void Filled Shell of Angelica and himself. All was replaced by a grassy hill with a line of trees off in the distance. The purple hedge grass was beautiful this time of year. Perhaps if more than just his body survived he would take time to recuperate here.

First though, he struggled up using his staff which he had miraculously managed to keep ahold of. While he did that she jumped back several body lengths and covered up her reproductive area and chest. The move really confused him. It was no combat stance that he had ever seen and defied conception. There was no benefit to it, not for Battles Mistress nor for a Void Demon in possession of her body. Even if the Demon had access to her memories and abilities.

Her Castine features turned furious as she began to rapid fire words in that bizarre tongue she had used earlier.

He gave as a thought command in the particular way required to engage his built in systems. The Old Man felt some of the living gears start to click along a different path and a rush as a hind mounted neural chipset pulled the data from the subether as well as the molecular resonances around him.

Something was truly off.

She took a step towards him. Feet unsteady, obviously still unsure of her own body. After a particularly pithy sounding diatribe she rolled her eyes at him and flung her arms out in a universal sign of exasperation. She grabbed at her hair with both hands briefly before stomping towards him again. He backed up quickly as she did so. After a few times of this she stopped and her voice tonals seemed to change to pleading. There were tears in the corners of her eyes as she gesticulated in a foreign manner.

Finally his Artifice chimed its conclusion.

[Analysis Odd] showed in his vision overlay.

“Relay Artifice.”

[Battles Mistress is not Present.]

“I got that Artifice. Explain.”

[Enhanced Champion created present with analogous Spirit Matrice located within apropos physical boundaries]

[Error Received]

[Registered Enhanced Champion Created in current physical proximity of Non-Registered Spirit Matrice. Incomparable Datum]

[Analysis Odd]

Angelica who was not Angelica stood those several paces in front of him still. No longer attempting to communicate in any way. Just standing there tapping her foot with her arms crossed across her chest. There was no way that something from beyond was playing her body like a puppet. Also there should be no way that she was standing here in front of him with a Spirit Matrice that was not Angelica’s.

In the few hundred cycles of his wandering this war wracked planet he had never encountered any empty vessel receiving a Spirit Matrice from another sourse. Only the Fell from the Void could enter a vessel that was emptied of its originating Spirit.

He would know. He was a Summoner. One of the very few able to affect the molecular resonances of the Aethers of the Universe.

“You are not who you should be.”

She only continued to glare at him and tap her foot.

“Who are you?” His question was rhetorical only as he knew she could not understand him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End Chapter 03

Notes - More chapters are available on my Patreon! Please pop on over and at least comment.
I'm still dedicated to a chapter posted online every week or two, and at least one a week on my Patreon.

I'm also working on a couple other books at the same time. Hopefully I can get them online soon too!

TTFN All.

Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Chapter 04
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Nicholas~

By her count it had been at least an hour since the old geezer had ported them to this strange location. It was an odd looking hill. More of a grassy knoll really. Yet if the body alone was not enough proof that she wasn’t in Kansas anymore then the alien landscape sealed the deal on it. At least the sky was blue here. Even if it was too deep a blue, almost a sapphire blue and startlingly sharp in contrast. Like the super high definition pictures she had seen from mountain expeditions.

Underfoot the grass was more loke broad leafed purple crushed velvet on a stalk. It was sort of like walking on a Super Villains carpet than on any lawn that Nick was familiar with. Off to the side was a copse of trees that looked like a cross between a Douglass Fir and an Orange tree if the fruit like globes at the end of its branches was anything to go by. The sun of the planet was behind an angry dark blue stormfront in the distance. Nick hoped that the Old Man may show some common sense and perhaps poof them some cover before the storm decided to add to the days enjoyment.

All in all she had to give the setting a seven stars out of ten. She subtracted two due to the whole soul-napping thing.

“Alrighty then. Can we get to the whole ‘You Tarzan, Me Jane’ thing already? I’m afraid I have to play the Jane part I guess… kind of lacking the equipment for Tarzan.” She looked around a little then back down at herself. “Though I am kind of built much closer to a savage.”

She was tired of just rambling or cursing at him. Her spleen was now well and truly vented, all that was left was a weary want of returning to herself. For the last while he hadn’t done anything but seem to have a one sided conversation with himself. While he was doing so she could not find any common vocal linguistics between them she was lost as to next steps. If he wasn’t the only potential link to both her friends and getting back home she would be sorely tempted to just go and wander off.

Well… maybe after she mugged him for his cloak. There was no way she was going to attempt adventuring on an alien planet in her brand new birthday suit.

Unfortunately for her sanity that infernal hexadecimal clock was still superimposed in her vision. “C’mon Guy, at least tell me how to turn this damned clock off!”

Almost immediately it left her vision as if it had never been there. “Well, if that doesn’t just beat all. Now. Help menu?” She looked around. “Help system? Interface? Status Menu? Nothing? Damn…”

Still nothing happened. She scowled at the old guy grumpily. He just looked back with a level gaze. Completely unperturbed by her tone.

“Yeah, and it is of course too much to ask for some type of Universe Translator or Mystical Magical God Poofing Ear Canal Fish.”

Tired of the standoff she decided to attempt the more physical approach again. She had been ready for him to get confrontational or argumentative. Something really. Rather he surprised her by gliding backwards in a strange weaving almost float whenever she moved forward. Keeping an exact seven of her paces between the two of them.

At least she was pretty sure it was seven paces of her new body and not her old one. Considering that she had gained almost a whole head in height in the blink of an eye she did feel justified in feeling it all a little bit obnoxious. Not nearly so much so as gaining a pair of breasts, each one the size of her head. In between attempts to move forward she gave a long back popping stretch while considering how much of a pain in the ass they were going to be. About halfway through the stretch Nick remembered her state of dress and rapidly covered at least her bosom in embarrassment.

“This is really going to take some getting used to.”

She looked over at the Old Borg Kenoby look alike. His skin at least didn’t look nearly as horrible as when she first uncovered him. Was he self repairing like her skin had after removing all the shit from the room that was in it?

“Having no way to talk with you is going to get real old real quick you know.”

He clacked gutturally back at her but otherwise remained inscrutable. After several moments he didn’t say anything else and she had had enough of him. Instead of continuing on with the insanity of getting the same results for the same attempts she took a different track.

It was time to see if this ‘grass’ was really as comfortable to sit on as it appeared. Turns out the shin high stuff really was comfortable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Felix~

Felix and Malachai watched in terror as the grizzled cyber-mummy had grabbed Nicks ankle and disappeared with their recently Amazonified friend. Things began to fade from view into a sort of hazy gray nothingness.

“Nick!” He managed to get out before everything faded from view.

His and Malachai’s bickering now seemed petty and childish to him as the room itself faded from view second by second. He felt his friend grab on to him, a desperation in her hold that mirrored his own. Sure the fascination and friendly banter had kept a chittering terror at bay prior, but now it had slammed into him full force.

That had happened an hour ago now. At least as the two of them had been able to determine. The world had faded back into being. The two of them were there, as well as part of the bed he had awoken on. However, now it was on the side of a dirt road running through some sort of rural town. The varying types of building styles and technologies was not as bad as the elliptical room they had found themselves in. That wasn’t saying much though. There were some brick buildings and some scrap metal buildings. One building though looked like something he would expect to see in a Star Wars movie.

At least the population that had been staring at them seemed to be nominally human. For the most part. Some seemed extra-ordinary, like the horse teamster with four arms or the woman with the head of a sparrow. The most common theme was mostly human though. Even the five individuals who held them at gun and swordpoint.

“Felix”

“Yes?”

“I know when sword win in gunfight.”

“You don’t say.” Felix was standing there self consciously under the watch of their guard. “How does a sword win then?”

‘When swordsman partner is gunfighter.” She answered in her distractingly whispery voice.

He looked over for a moment. “Really? We are butt assed naked in some B-Rate movie’s village being held by who knows what Warlords troops and that’s what you come up with?”

She shrugged. “Silence getting me. Better speak than go mad.. Ne?”

They both shut up again when the guard wearing some type of gauntlets inspired by Pinhead gestured at them and spoke in some kind of guttural click clacking words.

“No speak-ze post apocalyptical mumbly jumbo.” Felix responded having secretly wanting to use a line like that for much of his life.

Malachai elbowed him sharply. “Really? Shut mouth you.”

The man pointed at the two of them then said something else. After a time they found themselves bundled off to a sort of jail. It didn’t take them long to get there and they weren’t processed in like Felix was familiar with from back home in Southern California. It wasn’t bad really, and the holding cells were better than the times he had been arrested for warrants due to unpaid traffic tickets and such. A decently large room with a comfortable cloth cot. The toilet was even semi-private. There was a set of bars separating the four cells apart. He and Malachai occupied two of the cells and what looked like a drunk was sleeping off a bender in another.

Something else they had learned was that in daylight his skin became like a pleasant view of the sapphire sky. Clouds and all. Not the sky above them though, almost as if they were viewing through him to another point on the planet. Regardless of where the angle was that Malachai viewed him from. He could get lost just looking into his hand at any time really. Once out from the orange tinted sun’s rays though he ended up back in his starlit norm.

Meanwhile Malachai’s slight opalescence positively beamed in a brilliant iridescent shimmer when any light was on shined onto her flesh. Making her seem carved from a pure pearl when at rest. In motion she was as breathtaking as her whispery voice could be. It was abso-blumin-utely distracting to Felix as neither had yet been given any clothes and felix still considered Malachai a guy.

So far no one had spoken English or any other recognizable language. It would probably make getting a job rather hard around here he was sure. Out of the corner of his eye Felix caught an iridescent movement. “Hey! Knock that off!”

Malachai stopped her gymnastic warmup routine to give him a playful wink. “What. Problem with what see?” She bounced a couple of times before bending backwards to grab her ankles. “Body limber. Different. Need to know limits. You do same?”

He had turned his head away from her antics knowing he will probably never be able to get that latest mental image out of his head. “That sounds smart man, but can’t you wait until they at least give us some clothes?”

She only laughed at him. “This best time ‘Man’. Should examine body. It not human, it different. Have circuitry, have cybernetic or bionic part. Need know how use.”

While he wasn’t looking he heard what sounded like flesh hitting floor and clapping on flesh again in rapid succession. With a sigh he turned to look back to see what it was that Malachai was up to. It turned out that she was doing handless back and front flips. Her capability left him absolutely floored. To be able to do even a running flip was beyond it, yet here was his friend just popping back and forth like a demented supercharged Mexican jumping bean. After a few more sets she stopped and turned to face him. He saw her standing there, not even perspiring. A quizzical look on her face.

“What? You no see gymnastic practice?”

He finally found his voice. “No, not like that. How did you do that?”

“Years practice. You test body now. I help, observe.”

Felix didn’t really have a clue as to what she wanted him to do and it probably showed on his face.

After several moments of non-action she finally gave him an instruction. “Stretch.”

She walked him through various body postures and maneuvers. Much to his discomfort he found. They discovered in quick order that the was indeed much more limber as well as stronger than before. Since Felix had never trained in any sport or otherwise he didn’t know the forms mentally to do any of the cool stuff that she was able to do so. Though Malachai did not that Felix’s body had been trained in martial arts if nothing else.

During their experimentation one of the town guards came in and talked at them in that bizarre sounding language. His uniform was a sort of a cross between urban military camouflage and Spanish Conquistador. A sort of forward curving longsword was on his hip and a snub nosed assault rifle rested on a strap on his shoulder. Otherwise he looked like a highschooler with longish hair and a bad attempt at a mustache on his upper lip.

Malachai stopped helping him for a moment to walk up to the bars of her cell. She clasped her hands behind her back and jutted her chest out a little bit watching the youngsters uncomfortable expression. Her sweet whispery voice soothing to the ears. “You no understand word I say. So I say nonsense. Just Gobbledegook that mean no thing. We just Alien after all. No matter if I call ass badger or face of rutting baboon.”

The youths adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, attempting to stave off arousal. He gestured with his sword hand, the words he replied with were just as unknowable to them as theirs to him.

“You like what see? Oh yes you do, but is me or is my friend?”

Felix was feeling a bit scandalized at this point. “Seriously Dude?”

She looked over her shoulder at him coquettishly. “In America just like Romania woman use body to get what want. What wrong here?”

“Because you’re a guy?” Still scandalized. Very much so.

If Felix thought that his statement held any weight with his friend her response cleared him of that illusion.

“You think I guy right now?” Said with a quiet laugh. “These look like belong to guy? And no tell me you no look between legs. I know you check out.”

“What’s wrong with you Malachai? I would never be ok with that. I’m a guy and I know you were never gay. So why are you suddenly acting like some porn vixen?”

Malachai laughed harder than before. Still not a loud laugh by any means but it was still far to pleasant sounding to Felix’s ears for his peace of mind. If she had been anyone other than one of his best friends he would actually be alright with her state of undress. Well maybe if it was back on Earth as he was stridently sure they were not on Earth. She slowed down and dropped all mannerisms she had been putting on. Off to the side the young guard watched mesmerized and looked unsure of what he was supposed to do.

“Felix, I woman now. Am in strange land. In strange body. Only you friend left. No one else. So I act like Romanian woman and speak like when arrive in States as if I act like Old Malachai I break down.” She dropped her pidgin and spoke proper, if whispery, English. Her voice gaining in intensity as she continued. “Do you think this is easier for me? To be given a woman’s body with a pillow talk voice? Your body is changed, sure. Your skin nothing but a starry field. But… You. Are. Still. A. MAN!!!”

Even yelling her voice was a sultry whisper, one that seemed to permeate the world around though. Leaving the aftersound of an echo without any actual echo present.

She dropped back into her more comfortable mode of pidgin as she quietly continued. “In Romania women often property. Or treated like. Body not choice, naked not choice, place not choice. How act is choice. So I have fun, I tease. I act like women of America or Hollywood. May be act, but act I can enjoy. If you problem Keep to self.”

He looked away in shame. Felix knew he had not really considered how Malachai had felt and had instead projected his own views and feelings onto her situation. “I’m sorry man. I hadn’t considered, pretty stupid of me right?”

“Good. That progress. But as said, I woman now. Please be calling me such till I back to proper self.”

Once the two of them calmed down a touch from venting their spleens at each other the guard said something and walked forward.

“I think he wants us to step back.”

“You think?” Malachai teased but also backed up.

The Guard pressed his hand against what Felix had thought was a key lock but seemed to act like a biometric pad. Both doors slid open and he gestured for them to follow. The motion was obvious to even Felix as the two of them found themselves being led through a hallway where awaited another guard. This one was large and had skin that looked black as obsidian. If not for Felix’s own ability to stargaze through his own thigh he may have been taken aback. The guards led them into a sort of tribunal style courtroom with five people standing behind a long horseshoe curved style bench.

“Don’t look now, but I think we’ve found the town council.”

“You obtuse.” Malachai snipped. “Not look like any choice.”

The tall black skinned guard stated something authoritative that probably meant something like “Quiet Down” or “All Rise”.

“What I wouldn’t give for some translator microbes.” Though it was quiet Malachai still heard it and managed a chuckle at the reference.

A woman behind the bench began to speak. She carried on for some length after which a younger and rotund gentleman picked up where she left off. A third who looked like he was cosplaying as George Jetson said something and gestured at both Felix and Malachai.

After some time he repeated himself and gestured again.

“Sorry George. As my friend said earlier you don’t understand anything I’m saying so I’ll just say gobblygook.”

It looked like the pudgy man was losing patience but as he began to speak the center woman cut him off and nodded to the Mr. Jetson impersonator. He spoke again, sort of like a public servant giving a speech. Everyone listened then devices of various design lowered behind each of them and glowed in just as many different styles.

One of the guards spoke briefly then nodded.

Felix looked over at Malachai. “Wonder what that was about.”

Three of the people including the short pudgy one laughed at the guards statement. Then the guard made another one that caused Mr. Jetson’s skin to flush crimson in agitation.

“We butt of Joke?”

“I think that someone just referred to us as Astro and he is trying to advocate for us.”

“We no dog. Monkey’s? Yes. Dog no.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m a stargazing Aardvark.”

The obsidian guard barked something rather nasty at the two of them. Once the room was quiet again the woman standing in the center made something that was like a closing statement and clapped her hands once with authority.

Felix was about to make another quip when something hard and metallic closed around his neck from behind. Beside him the same happened to Malachai, she began to speak rapidly in Romanian then suddenly dropped boneless to the floor.

“Hey! Don-“ He never finished his statement as something like touching a live electric wire flooded his brain chasing him into darkness.

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End Chapter 04

Authors Notes –
New world, new languages, new situations. No Universal Translators, No magical Ear Fish, no Translator Microbes, and no simple Deus Ex Machina communications where everyone seems to speak English though there is NO rational explanation for it (even including universal translators. Otherwise when someone curses in Klingon then the Translator would Translate that). Everyone has to learn by being pitched into the deep end. BWA HA HA HA… *cough* *cough* I meant to laugh like that. Really I did…. Heh.

Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Chapter 05
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~Chris~
Things came slowly into focus as Chris swam up from the realms of unconsciousness. It seemed dark beyond his closed eyelids. Strangely he also felt heavy. Not an exhausted heavy, but rather the difference of being behind the wheel of an economy car versus slamming the gas of a high end Dodge Challenger.

He did not really know what was going on, just that though he had a lot of aches and pains he was non-the-less comfortable. Sort of like being in a nice bed after an all-night bar crawl. The residual headache and body stiffness seemed to be receding and rather than move Chris decided it would be more prudent to just lay there continuing to relax. Things could wait for now.

As he lay there he thought that maybe he could just stay there for the better portion of the day in a semi-conscious dozy blisses. If not for a warm damp cloth that came down onto the left side of his chest that is. He felt a pair of feminine hands that were tenderly moving the cloth around. He mumbled in a sort of sleepy comfort while his brain woke up the rest of the way. One of the hands began to trace patters on his left arm causing him to open his eyes.

There was a pretty young woman in a metallic silver body tube cloth wrap. She had violet hair and seemed to be giving him some sort of ‘sponge’ bath. He was perfectly alright with that. Though he did have a spark of curiosity with the whole punk hair color with slave style dress. He had had worse wake ups however, so who was he to complain. Perhaps he went to an AnimeCon after party and they were still in character or something?

He was about to put his head back down and just enjoy the sensations until something about his skin caught his attention. For some reason something was not clicking with his brain. Facts were not aligning, for instance he knew that there was a difference to him but he could not quite nail it down.

Not fully understanding it Chris came to full consciousness and sat up spilling the slight woman off the bunk. She scrambled back up giving him all sorts of scoldings in an unknown language. At least he thought they were scoldings, the tone was correct as well as her expression. That brought his attention back to her where he noticed a metal collar on her neck against her tan skin. Chris only knew of a few settings where such a thing was considered normal. He hoped this was one of better ones and not one of the worse ones. Except for the niggling thoughts at the back of his mind that focused on her mannerisms and looks. That it was not a costume that she wore.

“What the hell did I do las… the Hell!?”

His voice came back to him. Deep and rumbling. Melodious in a very ominous fashion. Not his voice at all. Sort of like a James Earl Jones rather than the whiney Mark Hamil that he had always considered himself to be in possession of. How the change came about made as much sense as his new surroundings. Meaning, none at all.

That became a secondary consideration as he lifted his hands up to look at them. So large and strong. Not his hands, rather they looked to be made of smoothly carved stone. Malleable as he could move them, yet when he tapped his thigh it sounded like two rocks clacking together.

While he was experimenting the woman was really laying into him with her verbose verbal trouncing.

“Look lady. I do not understand a word you’re saying.” He did not look at her as he talked, he was too busy inspecting his strangely changed form. All of his body looked to be finely finished grey and charcoal granite. Not patchy but whorled and veined as if carved from a single deep earth obelisk. Soft to touch when pushed slowly and rock solid at any faster speed. He was bare of everything but a small cream colored wrap around his waist. He guessed that the stone continued all the way beneath it. Unlike his friend Felix he definitely had no need to verify it visually. The little perv would absolutely had done so regardless of surroundings after all.

Chris was far from finished with figuring himself at this point but he turned his attention to the woman who had been apparently ministering to him while unconscious. She really was a pretty little thing. As long as he was about the same height as before his analytical mind placed her at about five foot two. Maybe five foot three. She was slim and reasonably well built. Long and slightly wild violet hair that had a few pink streaks through it. Large soulful hazel eyes. A good body tan that may be natural rather than from the sun.

As he didn’t really know what was going on he felt it best not to ogle her.

Any other reference points were straight out the window at this point. His hand were much more hamhocked sledgehammers than the slimmer mechanics hands he remembered. His torso had to be at least twice as wide as before and his overly muscled thighs looked as big as his old torso. What he could not tell was his height. Was he six feet tall? Seven? Or was he a pebble to his old self and now of truly Liliputian scale?

“I feel like Atrayu’s friend Rock Crusher.” The woman cocked her head at him as if trying to understand his words. “Never mind, Sebastion would get it.”

His inspections and thoughts were interrupted when another pretty face poked her head around the corner. A brunette with long braided hair blue eyes and pale skin. She rambled something authoritative to them. The violet haired gal nodded and then pushed on his chest to try to get him to lay down again. He felt no reason not to, he was totally relaxed once more after all. A thought tried to force it into his brain and he attempted to resist it a bit, but the relaxation overrode it. He floated into that blissful state once again. His mind comfortably numb on some type of cloud. Body being tended to in a pleasant environment. The details of everything did not matter. Various peoples came and went in the timeless day, the only constant was that nice violet haired girl who was frequently tracing his muscles or massaging him. Sometimes he was poked or prodded but it never really amounted to much. As long as the gal was there then what was the problem.

Sometime later he came aware of himself again. This time he was standing on a stage looking over a large group of… things. It looked like Jim Hensons Studio had an orgy with J.J. Abrams special effects monsters and their bastard offspring all gathered to form a mosh pit. Up above it all on a stage made of stone he stook naked and strangely calm. He didn’t really understand the serenity as a pair of what he could swear were Skeksi’s argued with a Mogui nearby. Across from them was a slug headed creature with a large woman’s body dressed in a toga with an entourage of men that had their faces in their chest with no head above the shoulders. Near the back was a semi-mechanical giant crab on mechanized birdlike legs instead of the normal spiderlike ones. Only a very few actual human looking beings were present and all of them wore the slave-like garb of the violet haired woman who was standing several feet away. She held a leash which was attached to the collar that he found around his neck.

He observed this all with clinical detachment. Filing as much information as he could for a later as he was sure there was not much he could do standing nude in front of the menage of creatures on a stage as an apparent slave in an auction.

The maelstrom of noise and visuals continued for a time until the sound of a great gong rang over the din of the crowd. A wave of quiet moved over the beings and all of the creatures turned towards the stage. Chris felt a tug on his leash and it seemed a good idea to follow as the girl led him around the stage. He wasn’t concerned about it right now. More important was to continue what felt as a type of a routine to him as he walked in her path. Her point of familiarity provided a comfort to him in the strange world.

Some series of laps later as well as many yelled statements finally found Chris led compliantly off the stage to a small pit. There stood a tall blue skinned being with four spindly arms no hair and four obsidian eyes set above and below its nose, easily half again his current height. He was dropping plastic looking coins into the hands of a green humanoid with patchy brown fur on his visible skin. The green one motioned to Chris and his handler as he had come to think of her.

Whatever it said seemed to really piss her off as she began to argue back. He could now feel anger at this green skinned idiot who had no clue as to real value. For now he stayed his aggression while the violet haired woman yelled and stormed in that strange language of theirs. It was not yet time for violence, but he had a nearly insatiable urge to slap the arrogant slaver. This feeling stayed with him through a few rounds between the two. Then in final resignation he felt a resentful ennui creep in as realization came to him that no matter what he needed to follow. The violet haired girl led him after the tall and gaunt blue skinned monster.

They walked through the city which was strange horrifying and wonderful all at the same time. He took in the sights but still felt that odd resignation tinged with resentment and now disgust. They had to have walked about five or six miles by his reckoning at this point If he was still about six feet tall that is. No matter the distance he didn’t feel any physical weariness or exhaustion as he tromped in his new mountain of a body. He followed after the woman who was the only one showing care to him in this new mystery of a world.

Eventually they got to where they were going when the trio stopped next to a large open metal surfaced platform. The being that had led them here gestured his two thin right arms at the pad and barked out an order. Though it sounded more like a phlegmy cough with some words mixed within.

Resentment rose. How dare this thing order them around. He flexed his muscles and rolled his neck around. The feeling of ill will helping him to prepare to put this… thing… in its place for interrupting his routine.

Another bark out came from it and Chris rose to the balls of his feet in defense of his violet haired companion. Then… Anger fled into fear. He felt the consequences of a poor choice compiling in on everything else. He felt his future compact down to a singular point of horror. The woman came back to him and leaned into his chest. She was crooning something that felt of peace and calm. Her very presence brought the eye of a storm to his troubled waters.

Chris pulled her close to him and leaned down to smell her hair which seemed to remind him of open fields in summer.

The blue skinned thing laughed cruelly at Chris’s comforting of the woman he felt compassion towards. His ire spiked back up at it. How dare this Creature speak this way. He began to move the lady behind him for protection. In the process of doing so he felt himself get control of his anger once again. She continued to pet his chest and croon some strange melody. It was not long until he had his emotions fully back under his control. He needed to be in control. Anything could be coming his way and he didn’t know the landscape.

He felt the cool metal under his stonelike feet as they walked as they walked to its center. The platform was about two dozen feet wide and was cobalt in color. Chris wanted to feel surprise as it rose into the air effortlessly. With everything else that had happened to him since waking up though he just could not must any emotion towards it other than the statement of ‘Neat’. Which he muttered internally because he didn’t yet feel safe talking around these creatures that he seemed to be now enslaved by. The next few hours passed quickly. He felt some of his emotions fray a bit yet the violet haired woman’s presence and voice soothed him back to center each time.

Finally the platform landed at the base of a great sone faced building. Something like a mansion made out of huge slabs of rock rather than a castles smaller construction materials. The smallest single piece he could see hat to be at least a dozen feet tall by several feet wide. The thing that seemed to be his new Master yelled out commands in its grating guttural voice. Two human-like women came out.

The first was the closest to human with long legs sporting a second knee reversed from the first, sort of like depictions of werewolf legs from fantasy and anime. Except hers were well shaved and very feminine. Tawny skin, brown hair, and blue eyes completed her looks. The other was a bit less human as she looked very androgenous with four legs. The first two almost like normal and then a thin torso between the front and rear set. Which were had the reverse knee joint like a horses rear legs. All were very feminine looking and with mostly normal human feet. She had short hair in a mohawk that led down her neck and he guessed all the way down her backbone ending in a horse-like hair tail that was off her rear. Would she be some sort of humataur then? Both were dressed in a similar manner to the woman who had come with him from the slave auction.

Upon their gesture he and Violet as he was coming to think of her were led into the building. They followed the buildings skirting outside to a side entrance of course. No one talked and Chris once more settled into a sort of resigned despondency. For some reason it didn’t matter that he couldn’t understand anyone. It felt like being relegated to the bottom run once again.

He was led inside and down to below ground. Through a twisting maze the archaic building gave way to stone tunnels lit by both torch and glowing sconces. Through hallways, tunnels, down twisting ramps, and further, he was eventually let into a cavern deep in the earth. He could see well regardless of whether it was an area that was well lit or an area shrouded in darkness. There were whole tiers of cells along the walls of the large area. The smallest seemed to be hobbit or halfling sized. The largest would easily hold a couple of elephants or so. There didn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason about the size or placement of any of them. One of the largest ones was almost five whole levels above the ground while at the floor level he was still on were several of the tiny cells. The bars were just as different too, not all metal. Some were stone others looked to be made of wood or bamboo. One cell higher up even seemed to be made of some type of energy beams like in a science fiction show.

From there the two led him and Violet further into one of the multitudes of hallways off the cavern holding area. This one off of the second tier, which of course meant they needed to walk up a long ramp to reach it. He didn’t seem interested in paying attention to the pits and devices in the center of the cavern. It just never occurred to him as they walked. He noted it in the back of his mind as he did know it wasn’t normal for him, yet it still was not really worth his while as they walked along. The tunnel they walked down now was very poorly lit. Only by oil lamps with single open flame wicks. Eventually they led him into a very large room carved into the side of the tunnel. It was enclosed with wide spaced stone that seemed to be part of the room, grown like stalactites and stalagmites from the ceiling and floor. Though he was pretty sure they were tougher than normal mineral deposits for some reason.

Violet walked in before him, still holding his leash. A worried feeling began to creep in and she stepped into him, once again crooning her calming song. He felt his caring nature rise once more and reached to bring her close to reaffirm to her that they were safe. That she would be safe as long as he was around. She went up onto tiptoes and whispered something in that still strange language into his ear before kissing him gently on the cheek.

She then removed the leash, but not the collar and stepped backwards retreating out of the room slowly and carefully. Violet made sure to maintain eye contact the whole way with her large soulful eyes that began to shimmer with tears. She turned and fled quickly out of the cave cell as the door to the room slammed shut. His last impression of her was a streamer of violet hair and a bare calf as she vanished around the corner.

Now he was left with the other two standing outside. Immediately everything came clear. Just like that a veil was lifted. He staggered back in confusion as lucidity almost literally hit him in the eyes. For the first time in what had to have been days his mind, his thoughts, his emotions, and his soul were his own.

“That fucking WITCH!” His voice almost seemed to rock the very walls.

“Bitch! Slaving Whoremonger! She was Controlling me!”

Chris was now right damned infuriated. Somehow he had been removed not only from home but also from his very body. He knew that somehow that Violet haired harridan was partially or wholly responsible for his new incarceration.

The two escorts watched him through the bars. The biped with an absence of any emotion and the quadruped with what seemed to be a sharklike hunger. They turned and left him as he looked around the very plain room. Only a small sleeping pallet was off to the side. Worse yet, it looked like it was made of simple bundled straw. Otherwise he was only surrounded by stone that looked as tough as his new flesh.

“Bitch…”

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End Chapter 05

             Here's another chapter y'all.  Also, up to Chapter 8 on my Patreon, working on 9 and 10 today.  Hopefully have them uploaded so I can get Ch 06 uploaded by the end of the week.  I try to stay at least 4 chapters ahead there, so that I don't miss a beat on my regular public postings!  I don't wanna end up as one of those amazing Disappearing, Reappearing, Disappearing authors.

Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –

Chapter 06

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~Nicholas~

              “Nmmneeeiiioooiii-klkkll-hisss.”

              “No.  Damnit.  Not that.”  A pause then.  “N-ee-ko-el-ah-ss.  Neek-oh-las.”

              “Nniieeiiklackchkless.”

              She could not stand this yet she needed to.  The Old Man’s butchering of her name was worse than a bad Godzilla dub job.  It was almost like he could not even form the N’s and M’s without severe strain.  He also had complete trouble with vowel sounds and ended up seriously over stressing them.

              The two of them had been at it for the last half hour, but at least she had gotten him to recognize that it was her name.  It was better than the initial ‘Eeeek’ he had been calling her when she did the classic ‘Me Nick’ finger pointing.

              He rattled something off in his own language, Nick wasn’t sure about the specifics but she was confident that it wasn’t very cheery. 

              The better part of the day had passed.  Evening would be here sooner than later.  In that time she had learned that the Old Man was a grumpy and vocal teacher apt to old school methods.  Which meant that Nick had learned that he held no compulsion against thwacking her a good one if she frustrated him too much.  Luckily it appeared as if she could take a good thump or three.  Especially when she had gotten pissed with him earlier and had attempted to pick him up by the scruff.

              That had not gone well for her.

              As soon as his feet had left the ground a device on his staff spun up with a high pitched whine.  He then stepped to his left into nothingness.  Like the air had been solid ground as he pushed out of her grip behind a wall in empty space.  She had been left there holding only the tactile memory of homespun cloth.

              The next thing she knew something hit her lower back. 

              Hard.

              Nick had spun to face whatever it was only to catch the Old Man’s staff to the jaw as he stepped out of thin air on her other side.  When she had recovered he stepped backwards into nothingness once more. 

              That had continued for several minutes as he proceeded to show her what would happen if she dared to lay hands on him again.  Nick learned two things about herself then.  First was that she could move with a capital M when she wanted to.  She was several times faster and stronger than anything outside of comic books back home.  The other was that even though she could feel it as fully painful as in her old life she could take a beating without a mark.

              It had still taken a few more hours of pantomiming and pseudo charades to get him to understand at a least a little bit of why she was frustrated.  As well Nick was able to tell that he had absolutely no social stigmas about nudity.  It wasn’t even that he showed any inclination that he was enjoying the sight of her new body.  It was more like it truly didn’t matter.  So when he cut a few strips off the hem of his cloak so she could make a rudimentary loin cloth it seemed to be just as much an epiphany to him as well.

              At least the cool of the night did not bother her, nor did the rocks beneath her bare feet.  It wasn’t that her skin was calloused or tougher down there than the rest of her.  It was more that the environment didn’t harm her as much. 

              “I bet this is how Wonder Woman feels much of the time.”  She paused and put her finger to her chin.  “Well maybe Wonder Woman with a liberal mix of Red Sonja.  All I need is a good old sword and my own Conan backup singers.”

              The old man stopped walking along the path they were on and turned to look at her.  He cocked his head to the side and clacked something at her.

              “Hey I get it.  Klickeryclackiti fun time, right?”

              She was pretty sure he had said something about setting up camp.  With her luck she had responded saying something about the tequila’s worm and his sisters nether regions poor hygiene.  He seemed to take no notice of her though as he began to draw a circle in the dark brown dirt next to the path they walked on.  It was one of those type of travelers way area dirt stopping points next to a dirt road she saw in so many games.  That must have been how it was like in medieval times.  A large oval of dirt a couple dozen paces wide off to the side of the road or whatever.

              Shortly the Old Man had completed the circle he was drawing three times.  Immediately he stepped out of it and a purplish bruise colored stone rose out of the dirt to create a firepit.  He then went a pace away and acted similarly to raise up a pair of rock seats.  Since the wrinkled mummy had done this a few times prior on other nights it was losing the novelty it once had.  Yet it still fascinated Nick.  Such a simple application of camp magic.  She hoped that one day the language barrier would be breached so that she could find out how to cast similar things. 

              Routine being routine Nick went into the purple felt grass to look for some tubers she had learned to look for.  They were sort of like spongy yams that tasted like a cross between duck and broccoli.  An odd thing that at least after cooking over a fire was very filling.  Once back from her search with about five of the things she groaned for the next part of their daily routine. 

              It was now time for pointy namey time.

              She wished that it was her teaching him English.  Nick was realistic enough to understand that she was the stranger in this strange land and therefore the one that needed to learn.

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~Chris~

              In the cavelike cell Chris contemplated the disastrous dream world he found himself in.  For if it was not a dream then it may be too horrible to contemplate. 

              His body was bad enough.  Nothing like his prior one.  It felt things in a completely different manner.  He could see in all bands of light he had discovered and only seemed to need sleep as a way to pass the boredom.  He was pretty sure he was no longer human, in fact he doubted this body was ever human.  He could not even contemplate what had happened to cause this effect.  With no one to talk to in the last however long it had been he had not even been able to ask or otherwise.  The only sounds he could hear were the screams of the caverns denizens, and the guttural language that reminded him of a toddler cursing at him in infernal using the vocal cords of a strung out rockstar way past his prime.  He had no way to tell time, at all.  Being underground with no light source other than what his captors allowed meant that he couldn’t even tell things based on any schedule.  Plus his time sense was skewed.  He always was a patient man, except now he was sure that he was even more patient than ever before. 

              It was like he didn’t find any discomfort at not having any mental stimuli other than what he thought up for himself.  He could go still at the drop of a pin in any position he chose.  Once he locked his muscles in place they didn’t feel fatigue in any way.  It was as if he became stone for a fact.  He had also learned that he only needed to breath when he wanted to.  If it wasn’t so built into his core, he probably wouldn’t even do so at any time.  His chest seemed to be closer to housing a bellows than functional lungs.  He didn’t feel any change in self no matter how much air he took in.  And he could take in a LOT.  Somehow he could inhale far past what a conceivable lung in a chest his size could possibly contain.  As if he had a gas compressor built in.  The most he had pushed it last time had to have been at least five minutes or so straight of sucking in air like a drowning man upon reaching the surface. 

              The last break in the monotony so far had been hours ago when the Violet haired witch creature who had controlled him stopped by to deliver food.  That odd type of empathic pushing ability of hers was not going to catch him off guard again.  He stayed far enough away from her that she could not touch him, he was pretty sure that was how she used it.  Through touch, or the collar.  He was not quite sure, but he was not about to let her attempt to get him under her sway again.  As far as he knew she was helping out with some of the other caged creatures that may or may not be sentient as far as he knew. 

              The only things that communicated as far as he was aware seemed to be his jailors.  Especially the quadruped who seemed to be the nastiest of the bunch.  He had seen them cross in front of his own cage a few times.  The latest one was a while ago when she and the Brunette with the extra jointed legs came into view holding the leash of monstrous cross between a wolfhound and a horse.  With eight legs.  The creature had made a snarling chomp at the bars as it passed. 

              He was brought out of his thoughts where he sat in the darkest recesses of his cage.  A young serving boy wearing what Chris had come to think of as a slaves wrap and a metal collar came to stop before the bars.  He looked around into the enclosure for a moment before doing a sort of double blink.  A sort of nictating membrane folded from the inside to the outside inside of his regular eyelids.  After that the boy was able to focus on Chris who was out of the lamplight thunking one of his knuckles on the ground.

              ‘Huh… guess that gives him night vision?’

              A clacking guttural sound echoed from off to the side.  The kid looked that way and gurgled something in reply before running off.

              Chris carefully repeated it to himself noting that the inflection seemed to be at the beginning and not at the end.  “That how they ask a question?  Or is it just a boy being petulant…” 

              Since finally coming to himself after they had locked him in here he had been slowly studying those nearby.  Especially the language.  It was only in the barest bits and pieces.  He was pretty sure he understood ‘food’, ‘get back’ as well as ‘come’.  As well as several other very simple commands.

              What he was not so sure of was his abilities to repeat or use the words.  Especially in proper context.  That would be too easy after all.

              ‘Least the area isn’t too cold.  Or is it that my body is more resilient?’  He internalized rather than making any other noise.

              Which was relatively true.  Sitting or laying on the hard floor was not uncomfortable.  There may be no give to it but it seemed his body didn’t need a soft bed to rest. 

              He continued to practice the boy’s words quietly, feeling odd using the back of his tongue and throat to make the appropriate noises.  Currently he was a prisoner as far as he was concerned.  A slave with no knowledge of what was going on.  That would not always be the case, and Chris was determined to come out on top.  One way or another.

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End Chapter 06

Sorry for the short chapter.  Next one is a bit larger to make up for it.

Post Script -

So for shiggles and ghits I was watching my MiastriSs playlist and this song kept popping out at me as I was writing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tSWSpvNT1Y&list=RD_tSWSpvNT...

I don’t know Russian but I truly love this artist and listen to all her stuff.  But without knowing the words, it doesn’t take much to understand what the song is about of course.

Also... I seem to have gotten myself the distracted.  My Steamdeck came in last week while working on chapters 09 and 10.  

https://www.steamdeck.com/en/

I.... uhmmm... sowwies.....

I can not believe how much fun that thing was to play.  So... I didn't finish the last two chapters as I had promised.  

My Bads *bows head in shame*

The Old Man as illustrated by my Troll Artist friend!

Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Chapter 07
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~James~
The man in front of James could have come straight out of a Christian Dior commercial. If it was also mixed with a Star Wars Franchise movie that is.

Overly large alien eyes with white pupils and cobalt where the whites should be. No facial hair what-so-ever and sort of feathers instead of hair on his head. He was also tall and willowy. To make matters better James knew that as frustrated as he currently was he should not stare at the being. Rather attempt to properly repeat the gurgle clicks of their language.

More to the point, he had learned not to say anything in English while under the auspices of the alien looking creatures tutelage. Not that he had anything to complain about regarding anything as gauche as ‘alien’.

Sometime, a few local days ago, he had woken up in a heat of strange equipment. Under an strange sky in a body not his own. Aching like a car wreck victim he still had managed to extricate himself. He would not complain about his body. It was a great body. In prime condition. Far better than the heavyset one left in another world. Yet it was not exactly human. Close yes, but not quite. Analogous perhaps, all the same digits and limbs. In the same proportions no less. Yet he was sure it was cybernetic from the panel over his heart that looked like it belonged on Darth Vaders chest. As well as the metallic hash like marks on his forearms and calves. They bent and flexed as if flesh to a degree but when he tapped them they were definitely not made of tattooed skin.

It was the dusky rose skin and the soft ankle length hair that had strands as thick as thin wires that sealed the deal for him. He could even feel all along the hair, its surface as sensitive as the skin on his arms. Luckily he could also control it. Not well and it was something he was not yet willing to share with those he found himself with. It was easier to control as a mass in a braid but if he concentrated hard he could make the individual strands behave.

His instructor motioned at a ball and clicked twice. One low pitched one high with a nasal echo. James attempted it but could not quite get the nose effect. The failure gained a laugh. Sort of. Like a laugh was cut off right at the beginning by a figurative magical sword. At least laughter seemed to cross the language barrier. He attempted again, knowing that until he got it right he would be standing right there at a sort of parade rest.

Overall James had been treated well by whatever group had found him. They had clothed him in something like unpadded bicycle shorts and nothing else. As many of the strange menage creatures wore little clothing if anything he counted himself lucky for even that little bit. James considered his good circumstances here in this dream that just wouldn’t end. For if he was in his old body he may have found himself automatically one of the downtrodden slaves he had seen. Regular humans of exceptionally good looks seemed to be given a good place as an enslaved people. Anyone who was less than a perfect ten though was nearly unseen and did the most unpleasant tasks of the feudal-like fortress he found himself in.

Another conundrum that James had observed was that there was very little repetition of body features to the beings here. Though the humancentric appreciation of aesthetics was the most applicable one didn’t have to have the same number of limbs or even heads to fall under that aesthetic. The overall feel was that it was produced by a very high end budget Warner Brothers or Fox Studio’s television show. Yet this not quite anime wet dream come true reality wasn’t going away. Even when he went to sleep.

The first couple of days James had been here he had treated it with the bemused indifference of being in an ultra real lucid dream. By the morning of the third day worries began to set it.

Especially for his mother. He was not sure what she would do with him suddenly not there. Was he in a Coma and this was just a Coma dream? Dead and waiting for the next life? Was it purposeful or was he here by accident. Nothing really made sense. All he could do was to play along for now.

At least they had pushed the language lesons on him. It would have been something he would have wanted regardless, but this simplified things for him greatly.

All this was in the back of his mind as he valiantly attempted to say ‘Ball’ or perhaps it was ‘Sphere’ in their language.

The teacher seemed to finally have enough and a long taloned arm snaked out and slashed his shoulder viciously.

“No -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- Bad -x-x-x-x- -x-x-x-x- -x- -x-x-x-x-x-x-x- Bad -x-x-x-x-x-x- -x-x- -x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- -x-x-x-x- -x- Again.”

Only the three words made some sort of sense. At least he had figured them out… roughly. Instead of lashing out or defending himself he stood there as his shoulder bled. He attempted ‘Ball’ once more. He would heal shortly without blemish, one of the gifts of this body. He didn’t know if there were others and he was sure there must be some. Eventually he would figure it all out, after all it seemed as if he would have plenty of time here in this other worldly place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~The Old Summoneer~
It amazed him at times how thick headed or inexperienced the young Spirit Matrice that now inhabited Angelica’s body was. This day she was once again failing to grasp some of the most basic controls of her Enhanced Crafted Combat Systems wetware. However he did admit to himself that most of it was due to the communications issue between the two of them. He was not about to tell her that though. Even if she could understand him.

Unfortunately she was also unduly modest, pig headed, aggressive, abrasive, arrogant, and head strong. Just like Angelica had been when she had been pure human genotype. He sighed to himself at that memory from all those cycles ago. Another life, both better and worse. He did need to work on her modesty though. There were very few armors that could keep up with the abuse she could put out when she opened herself up.

After much gesticulating and eventual breakdown of the initial language barrier he had amusedly come to the conclusion that new Matrice belonged to a young man. As sad as he was to lose his old friend and adoptive daughter he was gladdened to have not had his work go completely to waste. Perhaps he would be able to gather the six others and find out who inhabited each physical shell.

The name too…. Pronounced with far to much tongue and lip noises. Only some of the most remote island nations came close to the sounds. If he attempted to say her full name it sounded to him as if he was mumbling ‘Snake Bite’ with a broken jaw while being electrocuted. It also seemed that if he wasn’t careful with the strange throat holler at the early part of her name it would sound young girls scream to her. At least they had discovered how to say her name in the trade language he was slowly teaching her. Though there was no proper translation for it. Closest analogue to it was ‘Enjoyable to discover’ but he supposed that was good enough.

He chuckled at a thought. She should be glad that he had not been malicious enough to teach her that her name and Shithead were the same. But he wouldn’t do that to Angelica’s Shell, especially as he was confident that though her memories were gone that the child inside was so close in resonance as to practically be her.

It had now been half a cycle of days since he had recovered from his blunder. The first two of which had been… interesting. The Old Summoner regretted his hasty actions of dumping his ritual chamber. It had taken him over a full sixteen solar cycles to build and had lasted well over a hundred. The location had been instrumental in several successful campaigns against the encroachment of the various Demon Lords and their corruption of sentient beings on this planet.

With the chamber gone and the way he had designed the purge system to work there was no way to quickly find everything that had been lost. It was all spread to the various corners of the world. Scattered beyond the winds.

Now his first concern was to get Battles Mistress back up to her old standard and track her companions down. On this there seemed to still be some communication issues. As she claimed it was only four others that came through with her even though only two had awoken by the time he recovered. There had been Seven Matrices to account for though. Seven bodies, seven generals, seven peoples to be raised back up in the fight against all that had befouled this world. So he traveled with the woman he had come to know as Enjoyable to Discover or the bastardization of Neeeeekckckkee. She claimed that only her four other friends were there. That she could not figure out that there were supposed to be seven. Of course, half of that was figured out through use of finger waiving, drawing in the earth at their feet, wild waving of arms (mostly on her part) and otherwise. He knew that the systems he had deployed would have garnished all the matrices from the same quantum plane. It was the double-edged sword of the safety feature.

Which meant that there would be two more individuals who woke up residing in shells that were not what they remembered. Yet they would become who the shells were in originality once they had inhabited them long enough. Maybe not in memory but in action and fact.

“Hell stringent linen yellowed flower.”

He sighed again at her butchering of the common tongue. At least she had properly enunciated the proper clicks necessary for the words. If in a really poor accent. However, she really got the words wrong and the structure emphasis changed the entire meaning of what he was pretty sure she was attempting to state. She was standing upside down on her hands. She had been that way for almost a full sixteenth of a day cycle.

The two of them had an interesting conversation on that as well. The primary numeral check here for math and technology had been based on sixteen rather than ten, which is what the old math had used many thousands of cycles ago. They had transitioned as a logical progression as quantum based technology came to the fore. It allowed for much finer calculations and prediction matrix’s that were less prone to data leakages as they progressed. The time units had been adjusted around the same time in that ancient epoch. Each day broken into sixteen parts and each of those into sixteen partial. Then each broken up into sixteen microcycles.

When Battles Mistress, who still refused to use her forms proper name, explained about their time measurement systems the Old Summoner had almost broken out into hysterical laughter.

To think that she was from such a world that still was stuck counting high level problems on units of measurements based on their fingers and toes. It was pure folly.

She was glaring at him as he recollected on the various units of time. Finally he deigned to answer. One had to maintain the proper master and student relationships after all.

“If you must call me an ‘Old Geezer’ then do so Right.” He punctuated his statement with a line of kinetic energy along the molecular rail that his Artifice stretched between his pointed finger and her sensitive pelvic bone. He knew exactly how much that would smart and distract the tall woman.

With a squawking sound much like that of an injured avian hybrid she whipsawed her legs around attempting in vain to recover from the sudden pressure. To say nothing of the sudden sting of the invisible strike. The attack would likely have felt to her as if he had hit her with a small sharp metal tool that had a sizable amount of force behind it.

It was one of the first quantum tricks that almost all Summoners learned. They were often the recipient of frequent kinetic strikes until they learned both the skill and its corresponding defense.

The strawberry haired warrior failed to maintain her balance after several valiant attempts and fell to the ground. The green markings along her back illuminated from within and projected outwards into the first of Angelica Pentel’s twenty three Wings of Battle.

“Bad health old jumbo. Fair no you playful.” She shot back angrily as she jumped up. The dark otherworldly glow of the Combat Construct stretching out from her back showing death to any who would dare to challenge her, Battles Mistress. They pulled her up off the ground briefly as the two large knife sharded planes of planar energy flapped as if wings in real they were.

“And you have ruined another top.” Listening to her was sometimes like nails scraping along a stone drawing tablet. She was improving at least.

She calmed down as she looked downwards at the shirt that was now just one good breath from falling off. It was one of the many she had insisted on making after they had come across a traveling merchant with some bolts of cloth. Her first wings had shredded the back clear as they deployed upon the field.

He laughed at her disgruntled expression.

Angelica grunted something rude under her breath and ripped the tatters off before concentrating on pulling the wings back within her body. She rummaged around in her pack and pulled a replacement out.

“Specify ruin… prevent.. errrruuhhmm…. Prevent…” She snapped her fingers in that odd manner she used to help her remember words. “Prevent Action?”

“You mean, ‘How did the first Angelica prevent her clothes from being destroyed?’”

She nodded and donned the new shirt snugging it into place with that odd expression she used whenever mentally filing away information. Which of course she had to do until she learned more of her bodies enhancement controls.

“The old Angelica would wreath herself in her Power. It covered her at any and all times she would will it.”

They had to repeat that back and forth a few time still she managed to snort derisively at his answer. She went back to her handstand, she was now able to hold it nearly indefinitely. Unless distracted. Which was one of the things he was working on.

“Just so ‘Gelica Wings out All?”

“Not all the time. We do not care about body coverings as much as you seem to, but we still would cover if needed.”

A pause for a while as she processed his answer. Likely to make sure that she understood it. “Then Cloak. Why?”

“My cloak?” He looked down and pulled some of it away from his body, enough for her to see that many of the parts of his bodies Artifice was integrated into his robe and cloak. They were as much an extension of him now as his own limbs.

The more Artifice scaffolding he incorporated into his core meant that he needed more synthetics and 'other' biologics as well. It was one of the sacrifices one made if one wished to become ‘more’ than the standard sapient on the planet. Each type of enhancement, change, or creation had its mark on the body and spirit. Most Summoners end up something like him as all of their coverings were part of the Artifice Scaffolding needed to extend of themselves to effect the Aethers and the Quantum reality left in the wake of the Fall. Where as one like Angelica utilized a far more direct power than he ever could.

Angelica wrinkled her nose at the sight he had presented to her, then she made one of her long throated not quite howls that he had learned meant disgust. In response to her impudent expression, he levied a kinetic strike to her left knee. She was more ready this time and managed to keep her position.

“Why downside up?”

He was able to understand her a lot more now. He was even beginning to learn some basic phrases in her Eeengleeshshsh. Which never translated well it seemed. Such odd tongue noises for a language.

“Because it is enjoyable to me. You look funny like that after all.” He chuckled internally as he spoke. He knew exactly how his statement would affect her and her likely reaction.

She reverted back to her native language and let out a stream of rapid-fire words. Likely cursing him as she dropped to the ground before flip kicking back up towards him. As her foot was closing on his body he gave his Artifice a command and stepped backwards into the inbetween. The inbetween was not actually a time or a place. Rather it existed a few moments out of phase behind actual time. Sort of like existing in the wake of time, like traveling in the draft of a large vessel breaking the barrier of sound.

As such, he was not really seeing his Ward search for him, rather he was watching what she had done a few moments prior. The after images of the movements of her actions. The trick to finding someone hiding in the inbetween was to look Through. An ability that Angelica had, but needed to relearn.

Since is appeared that she learned best when he annoyed her it was a good thing for the Old Man that he did enjoy being a crotchety old geezer at time. Her poorly translated words no less, not his.

Later that evening, a good ways where they had stopped to train, they sat around a fire. He had procured a pot out of his own personal tesseract. It was over the cooking fire with some water inside for a tisane. There were several sticks with a small land born rodent that he always forgot the name of impaled and cooking on them. At least the critters were reasonably tasty.

“Shunt flew.. why?” His companion asked after being silent for a time.

Her face wasn’t quite shadowed by the fire and darkening sky yet. He still got the impression of something hooded around her. Seemed that she was also getting her anger under better control regarding her specific question.

“I thought the Void had taken you.” He could tell from her expression that with her limited vocabulary she still could not quite understand. “Void. The Beyond. Darkness. Demon place. Thought you were possessed by it.”

She nodded as comprehension seemed to finally got through the language barrier. “You thought me,” she paused then rattled of another string of unintelligible words. He let her continue as she spoke to herself. “Bad? Wrong? Circle.. no circle not…” She was almost crosseyed trying to figure out what to say. “Not good. Void… Evile! You think me Evile!”

He nodded, before correcting the pronunciation. He was impressed, he wasn’t sure he had taught her that word yet.

“Sucks that. Wish waited.” She continued on her thought as she poked at the fire with a stick.

Depressing for both of them as that answer was, at least they were making forward progress.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 07

Language Barriers dropping, moving forward beginning. Time to travel along and find out more of what is going on!

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We're working on concepts for each character right now. We're not fully there yet, but we are working on it!

Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Chapter 08
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Malachai~
“If no get hand where need go I slapping you.” Malachai stated to the worker she had been assigned to work with.

Or at least that’s what she hoped she had said to him. Learning a new language was always tough. At least this manner of speech seemed easier to learn than Americanized English had been. She was also having a much easier time of it than Felix was, much to her companions consternation.

As she was thinking of him she took a quick glance his way on the other side of the large room where he was helping another of the Indents. At least that was what she was sure what they were called. Basically a type of forced servant or possibly slave, but she was still learning the language so there may be more to it that she hadn’t figured out as of yet.

They were touching up a wall that had been damaged when things that she could only describe as rampaging cyborg beetle buffalo slug creatures had assaulted the room. One of the locals had explained to her that they were the soulless spawn of Xentul and that the things were usually referred to as Ravagers. The things came in all types of shapes and sizes and tended to absorb almost anything they attacked so as to maintain their monstrous forms. One of the creatures had even taken the upper torso of one of the guards that had fallen during the latest attack. It had been rather gruesome to watch… sort of like a train wreck happening in front of her. She could not stare but she could not look away.

Her current task was to hold up a heavy cable while the other Indent tacked it in place with a sort of circuitry laden green gray goop. This room was one o the force wall generation stations that helped defend the boarder from those creatures. Normally more than enough to keep the horrid beasts away. Though specific pointed attacks that weren’t repulsed by the patrolling army could still sometimes break through. She had a chuckle at the thought of some of the politicians back home and how they would react to this countries problem with ‘illegal aliens’.

As to the hand she had been threatened, it belonged to a youth who was absolutely fascinated by her skin and kept trying to touch it. Which was highly distracting, and not only because she found she was highly sensitive. At least her overseers had allowed her a simple body wrap or the distractions would have been many times worse.

She and Felix had finally learned after a few days learning the local tongue that they were in a forced servitude until they were considered fluent enough to be given a new evaluative trial.

Oh, and they were forbidden from using their native tongues. Her back had healed over without blemish from the whip marks but it had shown her how serious they were over it. After those first few days they had been sent to work details as well.

“So sorry.” The youth finally answered.

He was a simple youth, slim and gangly like many teenagers. Unlike them though he had a pair of horns that grew out of his forehead and recurved back over his head. He was something they called a ‘Created’, if she understood it correctly. Though she was still learning the full word for it.

The youngling was under a similar sentence as she was because he had troubles following instructions and tended to forget what he had been told. Which combined with his tendency to stare at the boarders with a power that seamed to draw in the Ravagers got him in to no small amount of trouble. So whenever there was an attack he had to help with the repairs.

“You are NO touchie me.” She repeated for the umpteenth time in their strange rather guttural clicky language.

As bad as he was with her he was worse with Felix. Which was why she almost always got paired with him. At least he was watching her face again as her arms were getting tired holding the cable.

“Jimbal! Work!”

He startled a bit then focused on the gelatinous mass in the bucket he held. He coaxed a portion to crawl onto an applicator stick which he touched to the cable. The ooze moved of its own volition and connected things to their correct points. With the heavy item now secured Malachai could finally put her arms down.

That was one down and only a dozen or two to go. She sighed, re-adjusted her wrap and moved to the next portion.

Later that evening after work had finished up Malachai finally made it back to the communal housing unit she shared with her fellow Indents. Outside of a harsh rule enforcement it was not really too bad. The food was relatively good and they were treating her and Felix with a moderatum of respect. They were even regularly educating the two of them in their language. Hopefully when she and Felix had their re-hearing they would find out more of what was going on.

After she came out of her thoughts she noticed that Felix was sitting off to the side in the common area. His star filled skin only interrupted by his hair on his head and the similar Indent wrap around his waist. She walked over and sat down next to him. Malachai took his hand in hers and leaned into him. At first he attempted to refuse but gave in after a quick scowl from her. The last couple of days of working on him was paying off as he was more accepting of the pretense than before. Her reasoning was sound, especially as it was tempered by her country of birth.

They didn’t know what the local culture’s views on women were. Even with the fact that there had been women on the court that had sentenced them here. They may have been exceptions to the rule rather than the norm. Since the two of them were being treated in part like slaves there was also a good chance that they may be intended or seen as property. So if they were seen as a ‘Couple’ prior to the next hearing then it may be more likely they would be kept together.

Or at least that was her thought process on this.

So far it seemed to be working, even if Felix was highly uncomfortable with it. She was getting less and less so as the days progressed. The pleasant feelings she was beginning to feel was by no means love by any measure. She was not some sexually repressed American so she knew how to separate the feelings of the body from the feelings of the mind and soul.

“Felix?”

He looked over at her. They were the same height now, even if this position comfortably put her head on his shoulder. He hrmmmmed at her and shifted a little to get more comfortable. As the wraps were really just stretchy tubes of some type of sturdy fabric it meant that she wore a tube dress and Felix was effectively in a skirt.

“Close legs. You spread wide again. How call it? Manspreading?”

Her friend couldn’t really blush with the skin he had but she felt it get hotter under her cheek.

Across the room a woman named Jan had been enjoying the view. Even though she knew she had been caught at it she didn’t look away. Rather she switched her view to Felix’s chest. Of course it wasn’t just about keeping them from being separated. There was a sort of hierarchy and politic among their fellow Intents to consider.

Just as Malachai didn’t have many of the social inhibitions and hang ups of Americans, she also understood how women in lesser developed nationalities often only gained their status from the men they were attached to. For some reason no matter how many times she explained that to Felix he seemed to remain obtuse to that fact. Which made him a lamb in the woods to the potential wolves around them.

“Did you learn anything new?” He whispered in English to her.

Even with the potential risk of the lash she was glad to have a language the two of them could use mercilessly as a way to communicate if needed.

“Yes, Jan want sleep with you.”

Of course she also enjoyed being able to tease him in a way that only they could understand. Felix did his best not to look directly at the woman across the room from them as Malachai poked at him. Particularly as it was Jan that was licking her chops like a wolf anticipating a tasty meal. Figuratively at the moment but she was sure it was also literal at times.

“That’s not helping Mal.”

“Then put arm around me. We take couples bed. Jan think we be fake.” She cuddled in closer to him.

Around the room several others lounged or rested after the days work awaiting their evening meal. After which was either interviews, therapy, or education. Or any combination of the above. Malachai felt Felix shake his head from her position.

“I can’t do that. It just feels wrong Malachai. You know I’m straight, it’d feel… I don’t know…”

She let loose a long string of curses in Romani, her native language. A couple of other Indents looked over in concern as she got up and moved to sit down on Felix’s lap facing him. Malachai leaned in closely to him. Her hands moving in a manner she knew would cause a stirring in his loins. “I no Guy right now. Also, you no be able to poke me with your meat. You think I want sex like this? I make you woman if you try with no my okay.” She gave his earlobe a sharp nip with her teeth. “I serious though. Jan move on you soon. She think you open. If you open then you think no man make move on me?”

The last bit finally managed to get through the dimensionally displaced collage geek. He pulled back as much as he could given their relative positions and put his hands on her shoulders. She allowed herself to be pushed back to arms length. His larger violet eyes almost seemed to float in a starry sky. Set in soft and now slightly African-European features. His silky white hair gave a shocking yet complimentary finish that managed to complete his alien allure. All together being on his lap and looking at him made her heart flutter and body quicken. That was under her control though. Besides, she was sure that as dense as Felix was he had no actual clue how he affected women in his current form.

Though with his most recent encounter with the ‘get a clue bat’ smacked lopside his head brought out a protective side of his that really annoyed Malachai.

“Oh god Malachai… Oh GOD! I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Quietly.” She whisper scolded him in her breathy voice as they were still speaking in English.

It seemed to have an effect on him, but she was not about to let anything go too far. Instead as a way to not get awkward between them she got off his lap and sat back down beside him.

“So…?” He asked hesitantly.

“So… you put arm around. Hand on waist.” She leaned into him once more.

Across the room Jan folded her arms in annoyance now that Felix seemed to be finally making up his mind and followed orders.

“Did you learn anything else?” He said as he nuzzled her obsidian dark hair. With her body still aroused it drove her to near distraction. The techniques she had learned in her prior life as a guy didn’t work on her body much to her dismay. She would need other ways in the future she knew.

“Yes, they think we created to copy fallen Hero’s. To make fear and confusion.”

Felix kept his reaction in check as he processed what his opalescent skinned friend said. “That actually makes sense.”

It was Malachai’s turn to look confused. “How make sense? That make no-sense. We no these people even if look way that.”

Felix laughed quietly. “It makes perfect sense. That room, the old man, us, the way he made everything disappear. These bodies are like Frankenstein’s Monster. We just ended up being the brains instead of someone else.”

They were silent for a spell as the others in the room went about their own business before Malachai spoke. “So we’re…”

“Yep.”

“And these bodies…”

“Yep.”

“Damn… that screw everyone up.” She stated, as much to herself as to him.

They would have continued talking except that one of the guards entered and motioned to all of them. It was dinnertime it seemed.

Once down in the eating area Jan and one of the other Indents sat down on either side of the two dimensionally displaced friends. At least the male was one of the more pleasant ones. Malachai took a moment to remember his name. Erdez if she was correct. She knew this could not be a coincidence no matter what anyone else would claim.

On Felix’s side Jan was leaning in. About as much as Erdez was attempting to do so to her.

“So what ------- understand ------- that ------ - you are ----- really without?” He asked her politely. She was only able to understand every other word or so. Simple statements and the like she could usually get, but the more complex statements she still had troubles with.

She looked downward for a moment as she attempted to figure out what he had said. “You ask about abilities?”

Her grasp of the language was still halting, but she believed she got it right. Erdez nodded, seemingly happy that she understood.

“No remember.”

Internally Malachai felt that he was kind as well as handsome in his own way. If she needed to attach herself to someone besides Felix she could do worse. Even if he could be a bit strife ridden in his approach and manner, he was much more welcome than some of the controlling and overly aggressive locals she had encountered. Unfortunately she was not from here and having been on the other side of the gender divide only just a short while ago. That made thinking of anything like a regular physical relationship to be rather repulsive in any format.

Jan on the other hand was being just as predatorially flirtatious and touchy as possible. Felix was doing a good job of avoiding any commitment to anything. Though Malachai did find herself puling the other womans hands off of her friend a time or three. Or three dozen. Until they knew more of this strange land the two of them had to act as if they were in the middle of a poisonous snake pit.

Tread carefully and avoiding all sudden strikes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End Chapter 08

So, that’s Malachai’s and Felix’s catch up. James is Up Next! Debating which order after that, any feedback is as always welcome. The story may be for the most part outlined and much of it written, but nothin is set in digital stone. Well… except Chris. He is kind of stoned… heh… (bad pun, my dad got me on that one the other day.)

Consider popping over to my Patreon, Advanced chapters located there!

https://www.patreon.com/alyssnancyonymous(link is external)

TTFN everyone!

So, my Trollish Artist came up with this nice and grizzled guy for the Old Man. I hope that you guys enjoy him!!!

The Discord notification pinged as David finished his math homework, the sound a welcome interruption from polynomial equations. He clicked over to find his gaming group already deep in discussion about the recent string of disappearances in Millridge.

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on," Tony's message declared. "Three people vanishing in two weeks? That's not normal."

David adjusted his headset and clicked the voice chat icon. "Since when is anything normal in this town?"

"Fair point." Tony's familiar voice crackled through. "But seriously, did you see the news about Mrs. Calloway? Just disappeared from her morning jog. Left her car in the park lot and everything."

"Probably just wandered off the trail," Morgan Altura chimed in, his usual calm tone carrying a hint of concern. "People get lost in those woods all the time."

"Three people in two weeks don't just 'get lost,'" Tony insisted. "And what about those weird lights people keep seeing? My cousin swears she saw something in the sky over by the old textile mills last night."

"Your cousin also swears she saw Bigfoot in her backyard," David reminded him, though he couldn't quite shake the memory of that strange glint in the antique shop window. "It was probably just light reflecting off something."

"Maybe it's aliens," Jason added with an exaggerated spooky voice. "Come to abduct unsuspecting joggers for their sinister experiments."

"No, no, I've got it figured out," Morgan cut in, his voice carrying that particular tone that meant he was building up to something ridiculous. "They're sleeper agents. Foreign spies who've been living among us for years, and now they're being 'disappeared' because their home office called them back."

"Right," Tony jumped on the theory with enthusiasm. "Think about it -- Mrs. Calloway was always talking about her 'travels.' Convenient cover story for meeting her handlers!"

"And she did make suspiciously good borscht at the last bake sale," Jason added. "Very suspicious."

"You guys are idiots," David said, but he couldn't help grinning. "What about Mr. Peterson? He never left Millridge in his life."

"That's exactly what they want you to think," Morgan insisted. "Classic deep cover. He probably has a whole secret identity. Bet if you went to his house now, all his stuff would be gone except for some mysterious coded messages in Cyrillic."

"And that weird accent he claimed was from growing up in South Georgia?" Tony was fully committed now. "Actually from South Ossetia. Wake up, sheeple!"

"Their extraction signal was probably that light my cousin saw," Morgan continued, barely containing his laughter. "The Mother Country calling its children home through their neural implants."

"Neural implants powered by the mind-control crystals they've been secretly mining under the textile mills," Jason added. "It all makes perfect sense!"

"No, no, hear me out about the aliens though," Tony circled back, his voice taking on that familiar excited pitch he got when he was really invested in an idea. "What if they're not just random abductions? What if they're collecting specific people? Like, Mrs. Henderson was a biology teacher. Mr. Peterson worked in engineering before he retired. They're gathering experts! Building some kind of think tank!"

David found himself half-listening as he pulled up the Battle of the Ancients launcher, watching the progress bar tick up as the new patch downloaded. The familiar logo pulsed gently on his screen while Tony's alien theories continued in the background, Morgan's barely suppressed laughter punctuating each new revelation.

His mother's voice drifted up from downstairs, calling the family to dinner. "Got to go," he announced to the group. "Raid at nine?"

"Actually..." Tony's voice took on that particular tone that meant bad news. "I can't make it tonight. Family stuff. But hey, maybe you can test out the new Crystalline Warrior mechanics in some solo content?"

David's stomach tightened. Playing alone meant no one to blame but himself if things went wrong. "Yeah, maybe."

Dinner was its usual exercise in selective hearing, letting his parents' conversation wash over him while he pushed food around his plate. His father was going on about some old Studebaker he'd found for sale over in Grantville.

"Original fifty-three Commander Starliner," his father was saying, gesturing with his fork. "Beautiful lines on that car. Needs work, but the frame's solid. Guy's only asking eight grand."

"That's eight grand we don't have right now," his mother replied, though her tone was more amused than stern. "Especially with the roof needing repairs before winter."

"I know, I know," his father sighed. "The roof comes first. But once that's done..." He brightened. "That Studebaker would make a perfect project car. David could learn some real mechanical skills, right son? Better than sitting in front of that computer all day."

David looked up from his plate, realizing he was expected to respond. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Dad."

"Learn mechanical skills?" Janice smirked from across the table. "Dad, he couldn't even put together that bike rack without bending the support bars. I wouldn't trust him near a classic car."

"That's because the instructions were wrong," David muttered, pushing his peas around the plate.

"The pictures were right there," Janice said. "Even Tommy from next door knew which way the bars were supposed to go."

Their father cleared his throat. "The Studebaker would be different. Real engineering, not some mass-produced kit. Did you know they hand-assembled those engines? The attention to detail on the dashboard alone---"

"Here we go," their mother said, sharing an amused look with Janice. "Next he'll tell us about the chrome work."

"Well, actually, the chrome accents on the fifty-three model were quite revolutionary for their time---"

"Dad," Janice interrupted, "before you give us another classic car lecture, can we talk about the homecoming committee? Because Chelsea's mom volunteered to help, but she's trying to change all our decoration plans, and she won't listen to anyone because she used to be some kind of professional event planner, which was like twenty years ago, and now she's saying our color scheme is 'pedestrian' whatever that means..."

David tuned out as his sister launched into a complicated story about homecoming politics. Something about somebody's mom trying to take over, and some other girl threatening to quit, and how the whole thing was literally going to ruin everything. He caught his mother hiding a smile behind her water glass as Janice dramatically reenacted what must have been a tense committee meeting.

"---and then she had the nerve to say that galaxy theme was 'overdone,'" Janice finished, stabbing her fork into a potato for emphasis.

"A tragedy," their mother said solemnly, though her eyes were twinkling. "Now, David, help me with the dishes while your father researches more cars we can't afford."

"I'm just window shopping," their father protested, though he had already pulled out his phone, no doubt looking up more Studebaker facts.

David slumped in his chair while everyone else dispersed, his father's voice drifting back from the hallway as he detailed compression ratios to no one in particular. After a moment of prolonged procrastination, David reluctantly pushed himself up and trudged to the kitchen, where his mother handed him a dish towel with the practiced motion of someone who'd established this routine years ago.

"You've been quiet tonight," she said, passing him a plate to dry. "Everything okay at school?"

"Yeah, fine." He focused intently on drying the plate. "Just tired."

"Mhmm." She gave him that mom-look that said she wasn't buying it but wouldn't push. "Well, your father means well with the car thing. He just wants to spend time with you."

"I know." The guilt made him add, "Maybe it would be kind of cool. Learning about engines and stuff."

She smiled, handing him another plate. "That's the spirit. Though maybe we should start you on something simpler than a classic car. Like that bike rack."

"Mom!"

"I'm just saying, we could always pick up another kit. Or your father could help you cut some replacement bars at the hardware store."

"Mom..." David sighed, focusing too intently on drying a plate that was already dry.

She watched him for a moment, her expression softening. "You know, you can talk to me about stuff. Not just broken bike racks."

"I know." He shifted uncomfortably, reaching for another dish. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Hmm." She handed him a glass, their fingers briefly touching in the exchange. "Well, if there ever is, I'm pretty good at listening. Even to things that aren't about Studebakers or homecoming disasters."

David managed a small smile despite himself. "Thanks."

She squeezed his shoulder gently before turning back to the sink. "Maybe next time Tony comes over, you two could give that bike rack another try. I won't even tell Janice if you mess it up again."

"Gee, thanks," he replied, the sarcasm softened by the genuine appreciation in his eyes.

When the dishes were finally done, David escaped to his room, making sure to lock the door before settling into his gaming chair.

The new patch had finished downloading, and the character creation screen welcomed him with its familiar glow. The new Crystalline Warrior class icon sparkled temptingly. Maybe Tony was right -- some solo practice would help him get a feel for the mechanics before trying it in group content.

Hours slipped away as he experimented with different combinations, testing damage rotations on training dummies and running solo scenarios. The new systems were complex but oddly intuitive, each crystal configuration creating mathematical patterns of damage amplification that reminded him of the vector calculations from his physics class—something that actually made sense to him, unlike most of what they taught at school.

A text from Tony broke his focus: "Can't sleep. Want to meet up? Got something weird to show you."

David checked the time -- 11:47 PM. His parents would be asleep by now. He glanced at his character, still waiting for his next command.

"Where?" he typed back.

"Usual spot. By the park entrance."

David hesitated. The thought of another hour alone with his thoughts and his gameplay mistakes wasn't exactly appealing.

"Give me 15 mins."

Sneaking out was almost too easy. Years of practice had taught him exactly which floorboards creaked, how to time his steps between his father's snores. The autumn air hit him with an unexpected chill as he slipped out the back door, fallen leaves crunching softly under his feet.

The streets were empty at this hour, streetlights casting pools of yellow light at regular intervals. He stuck to the shadows out of habit, even though there was no one around to see him. The familiar path between the old mills felt different at night, the empty windows watching him pass like dark eyes.

Tony was already waiting at their usual meeting spot, his lanky frame perched on the low stone wall that marked the park entrance. An eager grin split his face as David approached.

"Dude, check this out." He held up his phone, displaying a grainy photo that looked like it had been taken through a window. "My cousin sent this to me like ten minutes ago. She says she saw it hovering over the textile mills."

David squinted at the image. A faint reddish glow hung in the darkness, its shape indistinct but somehow wrong. "Probably just light reflecting off clouds or something."

"That's what I thought at first, but look." Tony zoomed in on the image. "See how it kind of... moves? Like it's alive?"

A rustling in the bushes made them both jump. David's heart hammered against his ribs as he peered into the darkness. Probably just a raccoon. Or a cat. Or...

The reddish glow from the photo suddenly seemed much less theoretical as something flickered between the trees, casting strange shadows across the ground. Tony's hand gripped his arm with bruising force.

"David..." His friend's voice cracked. "Please tell me you see that too."

Before David could respond, there was a sharp crack from somewhere in the darkness, like a branch breaking. Tony's phone clattered to the ground, its screen briefly illuminating the leaves at their feet before going dark. The sudden darkness after staring at the phone's bright screen made the shadows between the trees seem deeper, more active. He didn't even register making the decision to run - suddenly he was just moving, Tony's footsteps pounding alongside him as they sprinted down Mason Street.

They didn't stop until they reached the well-lit intersection by Quick Mart, both gasping for breath. The familiar storefront, even closed and dark, provided an anchor of normality.

"What..." Tony wheezed, bent double with his hands on his knees. "What was that?"

"Probably just a raccoon or something," David managed, trying to convince himself as much as his friend. "Breaking branches, you know?"

"Yeah," Tony wheezed, but his voice wavered. "Lots of raccoons around here. Really big ones."

They stood there for a long moment, neither willing to voice the obvious fact that raccoons don't usually send two teenagers running in terror. Finally, Tony straightened up, adjusting his glasses with shaking hands.

"Maybe we should... go home."

"Yeah." David swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Probably a good idea."

They started down Mason Street together, neither wanting to be the first to split off. The occasional car passed them, headlights stretching their shadows long across the pavement before sweeping away into the night. Each time the approaching engine sound made them tense until the vehicle came into view - just normal people heading home from late shifts or midnight grocery runs.

The walk felt longer than usual. Their footsteps seemed too loud on the empty sidewalk, echoing off the downtown storefronts. A sedan cruised by, its driver giving them a curious look. Probably wondering what two teenagers were doing out this late. David shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual.

They were almost to their split-off point at Oak Street when an old muscle car approached from behind, its engine rumbling. Just as it passed them, something in the engine caught or misfired - the resulting BANG! sent them both diving behind the nearest parked car. David's heart nearly burst out of his chest, and Tony let out a startled yelp that in any other situation would have been funny.

The muscle car continued on its way, completely oblivious to the minor heart attacks it had just caused. They slowly stood up from behind the parked car, trying to pretend they hadn't just taken cover from a backfiring engine like a couple of scared kids.

"So," Tony's voice was about an octave higher than usual. "That was... educational. Pretty sure I just aged a year and I definitely won't need caffeine for the next week. Who needs sleep anyway?"

"Yeah." David let out a short, shaky laugh despite himself. He brushed off his jeans, hoping Tony couldn't see his hands trembling in the dim streetlight. "Very funny. See you tomorrow? Assuming you don't die of caffeine withdrawal."

They parted ways at the corner, each casting frequent glances over their shoulders. The streets seemed darker now, the shadows deeper. Every rustle of leaves made David's heart skip, and the occasional passing car made him want to duck behind something until he could see what it was. By the time he made it home, his shirt was damp with cold sweat.

He lay in bed for a long time after that, staring at his ceiling in the darkness. The room felt different tonight—quieter, emptier, somehow more watchful. Every shadow seemed to shift when he wasn't looking directly at it, and the faint moonlight through his curtains cast patterns that his tired mind kept reshaping into that strange red glow from the park.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter!

Hope everyone enjoys this new series! I’m still working on everything else and soon to have new artwork from an artist on this one. I’m really enjoying writing about David and what’s going on in his life. There will be a lot more to come!

As well:

I’m putting my Discord Channel back up on permanent invite:

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Join Me and some other people to talk shop, discuss artwork, stories, chatter, or just share fun videos or memes!

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Also, feel free to PM me if you have any questions or wanna comment.

TTFN Everyone.

Janet Malcomb slipped through her bedroom window, landing with practiced silence on the soft carpet. Her muscles ached from the evening's training session, and sweat still dampened her auburn hair despite the cool night air. She rolled her shoulders, wincing as the motion aggravated a fresh bruise. Lucy Dempse had been particularly demanding today during practice, pushing everyone through rigorous drills until even the most experienced among them were struggling.

"We need to stay sharp," Lucy had said, her piercing blue eyes scanning their faces as they gathered around her. "Everyone needs to maintain their regular training schedules."

Janet had wanted to ask more questions, but Lucy's expression had made it clear that further discussion would have to wait.

She pulled her cell phone-sized Garnet gem from her pocket, feeling its familiar warmth against her palm. The connection was still new enough that sometimes it surprised her—this living presence, this ancient power that had chosen her. She stared at the deep red stone for a moment before tucking it back into her pocket. It had been a long day, and all she wanted now was a shower and sleep.

A burst of laughter from downstairs caught her attention. Danny's voice, followed by another she recognized as Tony Ttereve's. She frowned. Her parents were working evening shifts, leaving her responsible for the house.

Janet pulled on a clean sweatshirt to hide the training bruises and checked her reflection to make sure she looked normal. The last thing she needed was Danny asking more questions about her "track practices."

The living room was illuminated by the glow of the television, where Danny and Tony were sprawled across the couch amidst a landscape of soda cans and chip bags. Tony's feet were propped up on the coffee table in a way that would have made their mother scold him immediately.

"—swear it was glowing, right between the trees," Tony was saying, his hands gesturing animatedly. "Like this weird red light, but it wasn't constant, it was pulsing—almost like it was breathing."

"It was probably just someone's drone," Danny replied, though his expression betrayed his fascination. "People fly them at night sometimes to get those cool light trail photos. There was that guy on Cherry Street who was doing those time-lapse things last summer."

"Dude, I'm telling you, it wasn't a drone." Tony's voice had dropped to an urgent whisper, leaning closer to Danny. "It was... I don't know, alive somehow? And then there was this crack, like something breaking, and we both just ran. David was freaked too, and he's usually Mr. Logical-Explanation-For-Everything."

"So what were you guys even doing in the park that late?" Danny asked, reaching for another handful of chips.

"Just hanging out," Tony shrugged. "David wanted to talk about the new Battle of the Ancients update. No way is that Crystalline Warrior class a legitimate strategy though. They nerfed that build already."

"I'm telling you, it still works," Danny insisted. "Jason tried it yesterday and absolutely wrecked everyone in the tournament. Three matches, three wins."

"That's because Jason could win with any build," Tony countered. "He's been playing since beta. Remember when he won that match using nothing but common gear?"

"Hey guys," Janet said, making her presence known.

Both boys looked up, and Tony quickly removed his feet from the table.

"Janet!" Danny grinned. "Thought you were still at your study group. How was track practice earlier?"

"Exhausting," she said, deciding that was truthful enough. "Coach Williams is determined to shave seconds off our relay times. My legs feel like jelly." She settled into a nearby armchair. "What were you talking about? I heard something about lights in the park?"

Tony nodded eagerly. "Yeah, last night. Me and David saw this weird red light between the trees near the park entrance. It was moving in this really strange way."

"What do you mean by strange?" Janet asked, trying to sound merely curious.

"Like... not normal," Tony explained, gesturing with his hands. "It wasn't moving like anything mechanical. More like it was floating, but with purpose. And the way it glowed was weird too—pulsing, almost organic."

"Where exactly in the park was this?" Janet pressed.

"You know that entrance near the old pavilion?" Tony said. "Right around there. We were just hanging out, and suddenly this light appeared maybe fifty yards into the trees."

"He thinks it's aliens," Danny teased. "Or government experiments."

"I never said aliens," Tony protested. "I just said it was weird. David saw it too, and you know how skeptical he is about everything."

"So what happened after you saw it?" Janet asked.

Tony shrugged. "We watched it for maybe a minute, then there was this weird cracking sound from the trees. That's when we decided it was time to go. David tried to play it cool, but I could tell he was freaked out too."

"Sounds creepy," Janet admitted, then glanced at the game controller on the coffee table. "Anyway, what were you guys playing before I interrupted?"

"Battle of the Ancients," Danny answered. "Tony's trying to convince me his workout routine of eating Cheetos and pressing buttons really builds endurance."

"Hey, gaming requires serious reflexes," Tony protested, reaching for another handful of chips. "And strategic thinking. It's basically mental athletics."

Janet laughed, settling into a nearby armchair. "I'm sure Coach Williams would love to hear that theory. Maybe we should replace our workouts with Mario Kart tournaments."

"I'd dominate at that," Danny said confidently.

"Please," Tony scoffed. "You couldn't even beat Emma last time, and she'd never played before."

"That's because she kept using the blue shell! Who does that to their friends?"

Janet smiled, enjoying the normal teenage banter. This was the kind of conversation she missed—simple, uncomplicated, without the weight of responsibilities that now filled her days.

"Speaking of dominating," Tony said, turning to Janet, "your brother got absolutely destroyed in history class today. Mr. Whitley asked about the Civil War, and Danny here said—"

"Don't you dare," Danny interrupted, throwing a pillow at Tony.

"He said Sherman was just 'spicy camping,'" Tony finished, dodging the pillow. "Mr. Whitley's face turned so red I thought he was going to pop."

"It was a joke!" Danny protested. "And I knew the real answer, I just thought—"

"That's not even the best part," Tony continued, eyes gleaming with mischief. "When Mr. Whitley asked him to explain, Danny started talking about how marshmallows weren't invented until after the Civil War, so technically they couldn't have had proper s'mores during the campaign."

Janet burst out laughing. "Danny, what were you thinking?"

"I panicked!" Danny said, his face reddening. "I'd been up late playing Battle of the Ancients and didn't read the chapter. It was either that or admit I had no idea what he was talking about."

"And now you have detention tomorrow," Tony added cheerfully.

"Worth it though," Danny shrugged. "The class laughed, which is more than I can say for Nevin's boring correct answer about supply lines."

"Speaking of Battle of the Ancients," Tony said, changing subjects, "did you see they're adding that new Crystalline Warrior class? The mechanics look insane."

"Yeah, David was telling me about it," Danny replied. "He's already planning his build. Something about socket combinations and elemental alignments."

A loud crash from the kitchen interrupted their conversation. All three of them jumped.

"What was that?" Tony asked, sitting up straight.

Janet was already moving toward the kitchen. The room was dark except for the light above the stove. She flipped on the overhead light to see their mother's crystal vase shattered on the tile floor, water and flowers scattered across the kitchen. The family cat, Max, sat calmly on the windowsill, grooming himself with complete disinterest in the chaos he'd caused.

"Mom is going to be upset," Danny said, coming up behind her. "That was her anniversary vase. Dad got it for her last year."

Tony appeared in the doorway. "Whoa. Cat-astrophe."

"Really, Tony?" Danny groaned at the pun.

"Mom loved that vase," Janet sighed, surveying the damage. "It's completely destroyed."

Danny went to get the broom while Janet grabbed some paper towels to soak up the water. Tony knelt down to pick up some of the larger glass pieces.

"Careful, these edges are sharp," he warned, gingerly placing fragments in his palm.

"Danny, grab that trash can, would you?" Janet called, kneeling to mop up the expanding puddle.

Danny returned with the broom, dustpan, and kitchen trash can. "Do you think we can glue it back together?"

Janet surveyed the damage as she soaked up water. The vase hadn't just broken—it had practically shattered into dozens of pieces, some no bigger than confetti. "Not a chance. This is beyond repair."

"Maybe we could find a replacement?" Tony suggested, carefully depositing glass shards into the trash. "There's that antique shop downtown."

"On our allowance?" Danny scoffed, sweeping smaller fragments into a pile. "That vase was from some fancy glass place in Atlanta. Cost Dad like two hundred bucks."

Janet knelt to rescue the flowers, gathering the now-bedraggled bouquet. "We'll have to come clean. Maybe put these in another container for now."

"Here," Danny opened a cabinet and pulled out a tall glass pitcher. "Will this work?"

"Better than nothing," Janet said, arranging the flowers as best she could. The result looked significantly less elegant than the original arrangement, but at least the flowers weren't lying in a puddle on the floor.

As they worked together cleaning up the mess, the conversation drifted back to school and friends.

"So how's the college application process going?" Tony asked Janet as he helped Danny sweep up the last of the glass fragments. "You're applying to Georgia State, right?"

"Among others," Janet nodded. "I've got applications out to five schools, but Georgia State is probably my top choice. Their geology program is exactly what I'm looking for."

"Rocks," Danny teased. "My sister wants to spend her life studying rocks."

"Earth sciences," Janet corrected with mock seriousness. "And yes, rocks are actually fascinating when you understand what they can tell us about the world."

"If you say so," Danny shrugged, clearly unconvinced.

"What about you guys?" Janet asked. "Started thinking about colleges yet?"

"I'm thinking tech program," Tony said. "Maybe computer science or game design. Still a year to figure it out though."

"I'm planning to be a professional Battle of the Ancients player," Danny declared. "Make millions streaming my legendary gameplay."

"In your dreams," Tony laughed. "You can't even beat David consistently."

"That's because he exploits that cheap Pyromancer build," Danny protested. "Total button-masher strategy."

They finished cleaning up, making sure no glass shards remained on the floor where someone might step on them. When they returned to the living room, the conversation turned to weekend plans.

"There's that new sci-fi movie coming out Friday," Tony said. "The one with the space colony and the alien artifact. We should check it out."

"I'm in," Danny agreed. "David probably will be too. Janet, you want to come?"

Janet hesitated. She already had patrol scheduled for Friday night, but she didn't want to keep declining every social invitation. "Maybe. Let me check my schedule. Coach might be adding extra practices."

"All work and no play," Danny shook his head. "You used to be fun, you know."

"I'm still fun," Janet protested. "Just also responsible."

"Uh-huh," Danny looked skeptical.

When Tony finally left for the evening, Janet walked him to the door. "See you around, Tony. Try not to get my brother into too much trouble."

"Me? Never," Tony grinned. "He does that all on his own. Later, Janet."

After closing the door behind Tony, she found Danny in the kitchen, wiping down the counter where they'd missed some water.

"So how much trouble are we in about the vase?" he asked, tossing the dishcloth into the sink.

"I'll talk to Mom," Janet said. "Accidents happen. Though maybe we should consider keeping Max out of the kitchen."

"Good luck with that," Danny snorted. "That cat goes wherever he wants."

Janet smiled, but Danny's expression had turned more serious.

"Hey," he said, studying her face. "You okay? You've seemed... I don't know, different lately."

"Different how?" Janet asked carefully.

"Just... intense. Distant sometimes. Like you've got something major on your mind." Danny shrugged. "And don't say it's just college applications or track. It started before all that."

The accuracy of his observation was unsettling. "Senior year is a lot," she said finally. "Maybe I am taking things too seriously these days."

"Well, you should come to the movie," Danny said. "Take a break from being so responsible all the time."

"I'll try," Janet promised, meaning it despite knowing her Terranaut duties would likely prevent it.

After Danny went upstairs, Janet retreated to her room and pulled out her Garnet gem. The stone felt warm in her hand as she glanced at her door to make sure it was closed.

"Lucy, are you there?" she said quietly.

After a moment, Lucy's voice emerged from the gem. "I'm here, Janet. Everything okay?"

"I think so," Janet replied, keeping her voice low. "But I just heard something interesting from my brother and his friend. They were talking about strange lights they saw in the park last night."

"What kind of lights?" Lucy asked, her tone shifting to one of greater attention.

"A red light near the old pavilion entrance," Janet explained. "Tony described it as pulsing 'almost like it was breathing' and moving in ways that didn't seem mechanical. He said it was 'alive somehow' and 'floating with purpose.' The description was pretty detailed, and apparently David Lamb was with him and saw it too. They got spooked after hearing a cracking sound and ran off."

"Did they tell anyone else about this?" Lucy asked.

"Tony said they only told my brother so far," Janet replied. "I tried to ask casual questions without seeming too interested. They seemed to think it might be drones or something, but Tony wasn't convinced."

A brief silence followed before Lucy responded. "That's concerning. Any other details?"

"Not really," Janet admitted. "They were more focused on video games and movies than whatever they saw. I don't think they're taking it too seriously."

"Keep an eye on the situation," Lucy advised. "If they start asking more questions or looking into things, let me know immediately."

"Will do," Janet agreed. "Should I be worried?"

"Just cautious," Lucy replied. "It might be nothing, but we can't be too careful. Get some rest, Janet. We have training again tomorrow afternoon."

The gem's glow faded as the connection ended. Janet returned it to its hiding place and prepared for bed. As tired as she was, her mind kept returning to Danny's comment about her being different. He was more observant than she'd given him credit for, and that could become a problem if she wasn't careful.

But for tonight, at least, everything was normal. Her brother was safe upstairs, probably already back to playing his game. The vase was broken, but that was an ordinary household accident, not a sign of anything sinister. And if Tony and Danny had seen something unusual in the park, well... Millridge had always had its share of strange stories and urban legends.

Janet switched off her light and settled into bed, looking forward to a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before another day of balancing her two lives began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 03

I’m putting my Discord Channel back up on permanent invite:

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Join Me and some other people to talk shop, discuss artwork, stories, chatter, or just share fun videos or memes!

If you want future chapters ahead of my posted works support me on Patreon!

https://www.patreon.com/c/alyssnancyonymous(link is external)(link is external)(link is external)

Also, feel free to PM me if you have any questions or wanna comment.

TTFN Everyone.

The woodworking classroom smelled of sawdust and machine oil, a scent David had come to appreciate over the semester. Unlike other classes where he felt constantly out of place, here the expectations were clear: design, measure, cut, sand, finish. A project either worked or it didn't. No social navigation required.

Today they were working on their semester projects. David had chosen a simple bookshelf, nothing fancy but functional. Tony, at the workbench beside him, was attempting something more ambitious – a decorative box with inlaid patterns that was already looking more complicated than he'd anticipated.

"I think I'm in over my head," Tony muttered, staring at the half-assembled pieces. "Why didn't I just make a cutting board like Jason?"

"Because you said cutting boards were, and I quote, 'pedestrian wood rectangles for people with no imagination,'" David reminded him, carefully measuring his next cut.

"Past Tony was an idiot," Tony sighed, adjusting his safety goggles. "Present Tony would kill for a pedestrian wood rectangle right about now."
David smiled as he marked the line for his cut. He'd grown to enjoy woodworking class, the methodical process of turning raw materials into something useful. Here, at least, his tendency to get lost in details was an asset rather than a liability.

"Hey," Tony lowered his voice, leaning closer. "Did you tell anyone about what we saw the other night? By the park?"

David shook his head, focusing on his measurement. "No. Who would believe us anyway?"

"I told Danny Malcomb," Tony admitted. "But that's it."

David looked up from his work. "Why?"

"I don't know," Tony shrugged. "It was weird, right? Like, legitimately weird. I wanted to see if anyone else had seen something similar."

"And had they?"

"Not exactly, but–" Tony glanced around before continuing, "Janet—that's Danny's sister—she asked a lot of questions about it. Seemed really interested in the details."

"Probably just being polite," David said, turning back to his project.

"Maybe," Tony didn't sound convinced. "But you have to admit it was strange. That light wasn't normal, David."

"It was probably just someone with a drone or something," David murmured, though he didn't entirely believe it himself. The memory of that pulsing red glow still made the hair on his arms stand up.

Tony was about to respond when Nevin's voice cut through their conversation. "Careful with that saw, Ttereve. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, since we all know how uncoordinated you are."

David looked up to see Nevin standing nearby, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. As usual, he somehow managed to make even shop clothes look expensive, his safety goggles pushed up on his perfectly styled hair.

"Thanks for the concern," Tony replied dryly, "but I think I can manage."

"You sure?" Nevin's smirk widened. "That box looks like it's one wrong cut away from becoming kindling. But I guess that's what happens when you try to work beyond your capabilities."

David kept his head down, measuring the same line twice to avoid getting involved. He could feel tension building as Nevin hovered nearby, making a show of examining Tony's project.

"At least I'm actually making something," Tony said, his voice tighter than usual. "What's your project again? A picture frame? Real ambitious."
Nevin's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's a hand-carved Brazilian Rosewood display case, actually. For my father's collection. Some of us have standards to maintain."

"Some of us have parents who can afford Brazilian Rosewood," Tony muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

Nevin's expression darkened. He reached over and casually nudged Tony's carefully arranged pieces, sending several small wood sections clattering to the floor. "Oops. Clumsy me."

Tony's face flushed red as he knelt to retrieve the scattered pieces. David felt something shift inside him – a sudden, unexpected surge of anger that pushed past his usual hesitation.

"That was deliberate," David said, the words coming out before he could stop them.

Nevin turned to him, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Well, look who found his voice. Got something to say, Lamb?"

David set down his pencil, suddenly very conscious of the eyes turning in their direction. "Just that knocking over someone's project is a pretty low move."

"It was an accident," Nevin said, his voice sharp with warning. "Maybe you need your eyes checked."

"Maybe you need to back off," David replied, surprised by his own steadiness.

"Oh? Is that your professional opinion?" Nevin's tone was dripping with condescension. "The guy who can barely stay awake in class is giving me advice now?"

"At least I don't need to mess with other people's work to feel important," David shot back.

Nevin's smile tightened. "You think I care about Ttereve's pathetic attempt at craftsmanship? Please. I could build that box in my sleep."

"Then why don't you?" Tony interjected. "Instead of the basic picture frame you're working on."

"Display case," Nevin corrected through gritted teeth. "And unlike you two, I actually have standards. Quality over quantity. But what would you know about quality? Your dad works at the hardware store, right, Lamb? Stocking shelves with cheap tools for weekend warriors?"

David felt heat rising in his face. "At least my dad works for a living instead of inheriting everything."

Nevin's eyes flashed dangerously. "Careful, Lamb. You're punching way above your weight class here."

David crossed his arms, adrenaline overriding his usual caution. "Maybe I'm just tired of watching you act like you own the place."

The workshop had grown quieter, students pausing their work to watch the confrontation. Nevin took a step closer to David, invading his personal space. "Or what, Lamb? What exactly do you think you're going to do?"

Before David could respond, Mr. Carver's voice boomed across the room. "Is there a problem over here, gentlemen?"

"No problem, Mr. Carver," Nevin stepped back, his expression instantly transforming into respectful attentiveness. "Just having a discussion about project designs."

Mr. Carver looked between them, clearly skeptical. "Well, take your discussion to your own workstations. We've got a guest speaker arriving any minute." He gave them one last warning look before heading to the front of the classroom.

Nevin moved away, but not before giving David a glare that promised this wasn't over. Tony stood up, his scattered pieces now back in his hands.

"Thanks," he said quietly to David. "But you didn't have to do that."

David shrugged, his heartbeat finally slowing. "He was being a jerk."

"Yeah, well, that's his default setting," Tony arranged his pieces back on the workbench. "But seriously, thanks. Not many people stand up to him."

David turned back to his bookshelf measurements, trying to refocus. The strange feeling of anger was receding, but it had left something unfamiliar in its place – a small, unexpected sense of satisfaction.

Mr. Carver cleared his throat at the front of the class. "Settle down, everyone. Today we have a special guest. Ms. Lockhart is a local artisan who specializes in traditional woodcarving. She's going to demonstrate some techniques that might help with your final projects."
 
 
A woman in her mid-twenties entered the classroom, wheeling an impressive multi-level tool case behind her. Her long hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, and she wore a simple flannel shirt with jeans. Despite her casual appearance, something about her commanded attention – a quiet confidence in the way she moved and surveyed the room.

"Thank you for having me," she said, positioning her professional-grade tool case beside the demonstration table. "I'm Heather Lockhart. I've been working with wood since I was about your age, and I'm excited to share some techniques with you today."

Mr. Carver gestured to the students. "Everyone bring your stools up to the demonstration table so you can get a good view."

There was a scraping of chair legs and shuffling of feet as students abandoned their workbenches to gather around. David and Tony managed to secure spots near the front, while Nevin smoothly maneuvered his way to a prime position directly across from the demonstration area.

Morgan Altura slouched against a nearby cabinet, trying to look disinterested but clearly paying attention. Francine Holderman sat with perfect posture on her stool, a small sketchbook ready in her hands. Jason took a spot in the back, tall enough to see over everyone's heads.
Ms. Lockhart began opening various compartments of her wheeled case, revealing specialized tools nestled in custom foam padding. The professional quality of her equipment made their classroom tools look like children's toys in comparison. With practiced efficiency, she laid out an array of carving knives, chisels, gouges, and other tools David couldn't even name, arranging them in a precise sequence on a leather tool roll.

As she methodically set up her workspace, David found himself oddly captivated. It wasn't just that she was attractive – though she was, in a natural, understated way – but something about her presence felt significant, though he couldn't have explained why.

"Today I'll be demonstrating some techniques using a decorative box design," Ms. Lockhart announced, pulling out a partially completed wooden box from her case. David heard Tony's sharp intake of breath beside him. The box was remarkably similar to what Tony had been attempting, but Heather's version seemed to exist in a different dimension of craftsmanship.

Where Tony's joints were slightly misaligned, hers fit together with seamless precision. The wood itself seemed to glow with a warm luster that came from expert finishing. Most striking were the intricate patterns adorning its sides – delicate geometric shapes that flowed organically across the surface.

"I understand some of you are working on similar projects," she said, her eyes briefly meeting Tony's. "This box design incorporates several fundamental techniques while allowing for creative expression."

She turned the box to display all sides. "The patterns I've carved here are inspired by local history. Millridge has a rich artistic tradition that goes back to its founding. These symbols here" – she traced her finger along intricate patterns carved into the wood – "are based on designs found in some of our oldest buildings."

David leaned forward slightly, his project forgotten. The symbols etched into the wood seemed to shimmer in the classroom's fluorescent lighting – geometric patterns that somehow suggested movement, with interlocking curves and angles that drew the eye in unexpected directions.

"The key to woodcarving isn't just technical skill," Ms. Lockhart explained, selecting a tool from her collection. "It's about understanding the material – working with the wood's natural grain rather than against it. Each piece has its own story to tell; our job is to listen and help reveal it."

As she began to demonstrate, David found himself interested in her technique. The way she handled her tools showed years of practice, each movement precise and deliberate. Her carving motions were fluid and confident, leaving delicate spiral patterns in the wooden box.

Tony nudged him. "Earth to David?" he whispered. "You're staring."

David blinked, realizing he'd been completely absorbed in the demonstration. He glanced around, relieved to see most of the class was similarly attentive. Even Nevin seemed interested, though he was trying to appear casually unimpressed.

As Ms. Lockhart continued, David's gaze returned to the patterns on her demonstration piece. One particular geometric arrangement near the center caught his attention – he'd seen something similar in his art history textbook, though he couldn't quite place it. There was something aesthetically pleasing about the proportions and symmetry.

When the demonstration ended, students returned to their projects with renewed enthusiasm. David, however, lingered at his workbench, still thinking about those intricate patterns. He barely noticed when Ms. Lockhart approached him.

"That's a nice bookshelf design," she said, startling him from his thoughts. "Practical but with good proportions."

"Oh – thanks," David replied, fumbling for words. "I was trying to keep it simple."

She nodded approvingly. "There's value in simplicity. Are you planning to add any decorative elements?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," David admitted.

Ms. Lockhart studied his design sketch. "You might consider a small border pattern here," she suggested, pointing to the top edge. "Nothing elaborate – just enough to give it character."

As she spoke, she pulled a small sketchbook from her pocket and quickly drew a simple geometric pattern of interconnected lines. It was much less complex than her demonstration piece, but elegant in its simplicity.

"Something like this could work," she said, tearing out the page and handing it to him. "It's a traditional pattern found in a lot of historic Millridge furniture."

"Thanks," David said, accepting the sketch and examining the design.

Ms. Lockhart gave him a polite nod, then moved on to the next student, leaving David with the sketch in his hand.

The bell rang far too soon, startling him back to awareness. Students began packing up their tools and securing their projects for the next class.

"What did she say to you?" Tony asked as they cleaned their workstation.

"Just some suggestions for my bookshelf," David replied, carefully folding the sketch and tucking it into his pocket.

"Lucky," Tony sighed. "She just told me I should probably scale back my ambitions and focus on getting the basics right first."

"Harsh but fair," David couldn't help grinning.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Hey, want to grab something at Quick Mart after school? I need to fuel up before tonight's raid."

"Can't," David replied. "I've got work. Maybe after?"

"Works for me," Tony nodded. "I can meet you at Quick Mart when your shift ends. Text me."
 
 
As they left the classroom, David noticed Nevin watching him with narrowed eyes. The confrontation earlier had clearly left an impression, though David wasn't sure if that was a good thing. He'd never stood up to Nevin before, and while it had felt surprisingly good in the moment, he wondered if he'd just painted a target on his back.

Throughout his remaining classes, David found his thoughts occasionally drifting back to Ms. Lockhart's demonstration. By the time the final bell rang, he was already mentally preparing for his shift at the grocery store. He still had forty-five minutes to get there, but he wanted to stop at home first to change.

As David headed downtown, he passed by Jensen's Antiques again. The elderly owner was outside, carefully arranging a small display of vintage items in the window. Mr. Jensen looked up as David passed.

"Afternoon, young man," he called. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," David replied, pausing briefly.

"You're Michael Lamb's boy, aren't you?" Mr. Jensen asked, shading his eyes against the sun.

"Yes sir." David was used to this in Millridge – being identified by his family connection rather than as an individual.

"Tell your father I still have that original gauge cluster and transmission linkage for a '52 Studebaker Commander. I know he was asking about the ’53, but this should work with to." The old man smiled, his face crinkling into well-worn lines. "Found them at an estate auction in Grantville last weekend. Gauges all intact, glass isn't cracked, and the transmission linkage is complete – hard to find those these days."

"I'll let him know," David promised, inwardly groaning. If his dad was already asking around town for specific parts like that, it meant the Studebaker purchase was practically a done deal. No doubt he'd soon be spending his weekends covered in grease, handing tools to his father while pretending to understand what a transmission linkage actually did.

"You working at Morgan's Grocery now?" Mr. Jensen asked.

"Yes sir, part-time."

"Good place to start. I worked there myself back when old man Morgan's father ran the place," the old man chuckled. "Long before your time, of course. Well, don't let me keep you."

David continued on his way, slightly surprised by the interaction. He rarely spoke to the older residents of Millridge, despite having lived there his whole life. There was something comforting about the continuity, though – the way stories and connections stretched through the town's history, binding people together across generations.

By the time he reached home to change for work, David had almost forgotten about the strange tension with Nevin. He had larger concerns – namely surviving another shift at the grocery store without dying of boredom or messing up the register again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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The cafeteria buzzed with its usual lunchtime chaos, a symphony of clattering trays, blended conversations, and the faint undertone of the kitchen staff calling orders. David navigated through the maze of tables, balancing his tray of questionable lasagna and apple juice as he spotted Tony waving from their usual corner table.

"So," Tony said as David slid into the seat across from him, "I was thinking about switching my main to a Shadow Ranger. The mobility is insane after the last patch, and the stealth mechanics actually work now."

David took a cautious bite of his lasagna before responding. "What about your Frost Mage? I thought you just got that legendary staff from the dungeon."

"Yeah, but everyone's running Frost Mage now," Tony sighed. "The meta is so boring. At least with Shadow Ranger, I can play my own style."

"Maybe I should switch too," David mused. "My Pyromancer build is feeling stale after that nerf."

"You could try Void Walker," Morgan suggested, appearing suddenly with his lunch tray. He set it down next to Tony and slid onto the bench. "Jason's been dominating with that since the last tournament. The crowd control is sick if you know the rotation."

"Too complicated," David shook his head. "I'd mess up the cooldown management for sure."

"Speaking of Jason," Tony nodded toward the lunch line, "he was telling me about this hybrid build using the Earth Shaper talents but with damage gems instead of the standard tank setup."

As they fell into their typical discussion of Battle of the Ancients strategies, David found his attention drifting to the far side of the cafeteria. Melissa Altura sat alone at a corner table, her dark clothes and heavy eyeliner standing out against the cafeteria's institutional beige walls. Unlike her usual routine of reading or doing homework while eating, today she just sat rigidly, food untouched, eyes scanning the room in slow, deliberate sweeps.

"Something's definitely up with your sister," David said, interrupting Tony's explanation of optimal gem socketing.

Morgan glanced over his shoulder and frowned. "Yeah, she's been acting off all week. Barely talks at home, stays in her room with the door locked. My parents think it's just normal teen angst, but..."

"That's not normal teen angst," Tony observed. "That's like, next-level brooding."

"She was weird at Quick Mart the other day too," David added. "Just standing in the energy drink aisle, completely zoned out. When I asked if she needed help, she looked at me like I was speaking another language."

"Maybe she's just stressed about college applications?" Tony suggested.

Morgan shook his head. "She finished those weeks ago. Early decision for all her schools." He watched his sister for another moment. "I tried talking to her last night, but she just said she needed space to figure some things out."

"Figure what out?" David asked.

"No idea," Morgan sighed. "And when I pushed, she just put her headphones on and ignored me."

The subject of Melissa faded as Tony launched into a detailed breakdown of the upcoming Battle of the Ancients tournament qualifiers, but David found himself occasionally glancing back at her table, unsettled by the methodical way she continued to survey the cafeteria.

The conversation had shifted to weekend gaming plans when a burst of laughter drew their attention to the center of the cafeteria. Nevin had arrived with his usual entourage, making their entrance with the practiced casualness of those who knew they commanded attention. Francine Holderman walked among them, her cascade of bouncy curls framing a face that made David's heart do an uncomfortable flip-flop. She wore a simple green sweater that somehow made her eyes seem more vibrant, and the silver pendant at her throat caught the fluorescent lighting in a way that momentarily mesmerized him.

"Earth to David?" Tony waved a hand in front of his face. "You're doing that spacing out thing again. I was asking if you wanted to run some practice matches tonight."

"Sorry," David tore his gaze away from Francine, who was now laughing at something one of Nevin's friends had said. "Yeah, sure. After my shift ends."

Nevin's group settled at their usual table—the best spot in the center of the room—and for a moment, Nevin's gaze locked onto David's. The brief eye contact carried the clear message that yesterday's confrontation in woodworking class hadn't been forgotten.

"Great," David muttered. "Just what I needed."

"Don't let him get to you," Morgan advised, following his line of sight. "He's all talk."

"Tell that to Seth Williams," Tony replied. "Remember what happened last year? He had to transfer schools."

"What happened with you guys anyway?" Morgan asked, turning to David. "I heard there was some kind of showdown in Carver's class."

Before David could respond, Tony jumped in. "David totally stood up to him! Nevin knocked over my project, and David called him out on it. You should have seen Nevin's face—he's so used to everyone backing down."

David felt his face warm at the exaggerated retelling. "It wasn't that dramatic. I just said it was a low move."

"Which, for you, is like the equivalent of a normal person challenging him to a duel," Morgan grinned. "The quiet ones are always the most shocking when they finally speak up."

David noticed that Nevin was now loudly holding court at his table, occasionally glancing in their direction. Though he couldn't hear the conversation, the scattered laughter following one of these glances made it clear who was being discussed. Francine sat at the edge of their group, seeming only half-engaged in whatever story Nevin was telling.

Unexpectedly, she stood up from Nevin's table and began making her way across the cafeteria. David quickly looked down at his food, hoping she hadn't caught him staring.

"Hey guys," Francine greeted as she reached their table. "Mind if I borrow you for a second?"

The three of them exchanged confused glances before Tony answered, "Uh, sure. What's up?"

"I wanted to let you know about the town meeting tomorrow night," she explained. "It's about recent community concerns—you know, those weird disappearances that happened in the past few weeks. They're holding it at the high school auditorium at seven."

"Is that really necessary?" Morgan asked. "I mean, I know about Mrs. Calloway, Mr. Peterson, and that college student, but has something else happened?"

"There might be a fourth person missing now," Francine replied. "My dad heard something about it from Sheriff Thompson. They're hoping to organize some kind of community watch program. I'm trying to get as many students as possible to come. Numbers matter when it comes to getting the town council to take action."

"I don't know," Tony shrugged. "My parents probably wouldn't want me joining a search party or anything."

"It's not about joining search parties," Francine said. "It's about showing community support. Plus, information sharing might help connect some dots." She glanced at David. "The more people know what to look out for, the safer everyone is."

David's mind flashed briefly to the strange red glow he and Tony had seen in the park, but he kept quiet.

"Anyway," Francine continued, "I hope you guys can make it. I've been asking everyone." She offered a smile that seemed to linger a moment longer on David. "See you around."

As she walked away, Tony let out a low whistle. "Dude, she was totally checking you out."

"What? No, she wasn't," David protested, though his heart had picked up speed. "She's just trying to get people to go to that meeting. She asked like three other tables before us."

"If you say so," Tony smirked. "But she definitely gave you the look."

"There was no look," David insisted, though he couldn't help glancing back at Francine, who had moved on to another table.

"Anyway," Morgan said, mercifully changing the subject, "are you guys coming to the tournament watch party at Jason's on Saturday? His parents got that massive new TV, and he's streaming the finals on it."

The conversation shifted back to safer territory as they discussed weekend plans, but David found his attention repeatedly drifting to Francine as she made her rounds through the cafeteria. There was something efficient and purposeful about the way she moved from table to table, briefly engaging with each group before moving on. It was almost like she was campaigning.

The lunch period continued, and David noticed that Melissa had begun slowly circling the cafeteria, moving from one vantage point to another. She would stop at each position, scan the room, then move on to the next spot. The behavior seemed so calculated that David found himself tracking the pattern, trying to figure out what she might be looking for.

"Your sister's doing that weird surveillance thing again," Tony said to Morgan, having noticed David's distraction.

Morgan sighed deeply. "Yeah. My mom found her doing the same thing at the mall last weekend. Standing at different points, just watching people. When we asked what she was doing, she said she was 'gathering impressions for an art project.' But she hasn't drawn or painted anything in months."

"Could she be, like, scoping out someone she likes?" Tony suggested.

"Melissa?" Morgan snorted. "She thinks everyone at this school is, and I quote, 'a shallow conformist incapable of meaningful thought.' Not exactly looking for a prom date."

David watched as Melissa completed another careful scan of the room before finding a new position. "It's like she's searching for something specific," he observed.

A burst of laughter from Nevin's table interrupted them. Nevin was standing now, doing what appeared to be an impression—shoulders hunched, expression vacant in a way that made David's stomach sink as he recognized the target.

"Look at me, I'm David Lamb," Nevin mimicked in a dopey voice. "I spend all day staring into space and drooling on my textbooks. Oh no, the teacher asked me a question! Uhhh... he burned stuff?"

The table erupted in laughter, several students from nearby tables turning to watch the performance. David felt his face burning as he stared down at his tray, wishing he could disappear through the floor. To his surprise, he noticed Francine wasn't laughing. Instead, she was giving Nevin a look of clear disapproval before turning away to continue her rounds.

"Just ignore him," Morgan advised. "He's just trying to save face after you stood up to him yesterday."

"Doesn't make it any less humiliating," David muttered.

"Want to get out of here?" Tony suggested. "We've still got twenty minutes before next period. We could hang out by the quad."

David nodded, grateful for the escape option. They gathered their trays and headed for the exit, David keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead as they passed near Nevin's table.

"Leaving so soon, Lamb?" Nevin called out. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

David kept walking, pretending he hadn't heard. They deposited their trays at the collection area and pushed through the cafeteria doors into the relatively peaceful hallway.

"What a jerk," Tony said once they were safely outside. "He's just mad because you called him out in front of everyone yesterday."

"Yeah, well, now I'm on his radar," David sighed. "Just what I needed."

They found a quiet spot in the quad, settling onto one of the benches beneath the large oak trees. The autumn air was crisp and refreshing after the stuffy cafeteria.

"So," Tony said, clearly trying to move past the cafeteria incident, "about that town meeting tomorrow night—you think you can make it?"

David shrugged. "I've got work after school, but I might be able to swing by after my shift if it runs late enough. My parents will probably want to go anyway."

"I should check with my parents," Morgan said. "They might want to go too, especially with everything that's happened."

"So what's the deal with you and Francine?" Tony asked abruptly, giving David a pointed look. "She definitely singled you out back there."

"What? No, she didn't." David tried to sound casual. "She was talking to all of us."

"Yeah, but she was looking at you," Tony insisted. "And don't think I haven't noticed you staring at her in history class."

"I don't stare," David protested weakly.

"Dude, you practically have a permanent neck cramp from turning to look at her," Morgan laughed. "It's been obvious since like, freshman year."

David felt his face growing warm. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to everyone with eyes," Tony grinned. "Why don't you just ask her out?"

"Right, because that would go so well," David rolled his eyes. "She's Francine Holderman. She's friends with Nevin's crowd, she's in like five different clubs, and she's way out of my league."

"You never know until you try," Morgan shrugged. "Maybe at that town meeting tomorrow. It would be neutral territory."

David considered this. The town meeting did present an opportunity—a legitimate reason to approach her outside of school. And if she rejected him, at least it wouldn't be in front of the entire student body.

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "If I can make it after work."

The warning bell rang, signaling they had five minutes to get to their next classes. As they gathered their belongings, David found himself thinking about Francine's invitation to the town meeting, wondering if there had been any special significance to the way she had looked at him.

"See you guys later," he said as they parted ways in the hallway. "I've got Physics."

"Try to stay awake this time," Tony called after him with a grin.

Physics was normally one of David's most challenging classes—not because the material was particularly difficult, but because it fell right after lunch when his energy was at its lowest. Today, however, his mind was unusually active, filled with thoughts of Francine and the possibility of seeing her at the town meeting.

He slid into his seat near the back of the classroom just as the final bell rang. Mrs. Grayson, a former aerospace engineer with prematurely gray hair and an enthusiasm for Newtonian mechanics that few students shared, was already setting up a demonstration with a pendulum at the front of the room.

"Today we'll be studying conservation of angular momentum," Mrs. Grayson announced, giving the pendulum a gentle push. "Can anyone tell me what will happen if I change the mass distribution on this pendulum while it's in motion?"

David dutifully opened his notebook, but his mind immediately began to wander. What if he did ask Francine to hang out at the town meeting? The worst she could say was no, right? But then again, she was popular, involved in a dozen school activities, and usually hung out with Nevin's crowd. Why would she be interested in someone like him?

But then he remembered the way she had looked at him in the cafeteria, how she hadn't laughed at Nevin's impression. Maybe there was a chance. A small one, but still.

He mentally rehearsed potential approaches. "Hey, Francine, want to grab coffee after the meeting?" No, too direct. "I was thinking of getting some food after this, want to join?" Better, but still too obvious. "A bunch of us are hanging out after, you should come." That might work—casual, no pressure, an easy out if she wasn't interested.

He imagined her response—maybe a smile, maybe even a yes. They could talk about normal things, not Battle of the Ancients or the weird stuff happening in town. Just two people getting to know each other better. The thought made his heart beat a little faster.

"Mr. Lamb?"

David snapped back to awareness, suddenly realizing that Mrs. Grayson was standing directly in front of his desk, along with the expectant stares of twenty-eight classmates.

"I'm sorry, what?" David managed, his ears burning.

"I asked," Mrs. Grayson repeated with the weariness of a teacher who had dealt with countless daydreaming teenagers, "if you could explain what happens to a rotating object's angular velocity when its radius changes."

David's mind raced, frantically searching for anything he remembered from the assigned reading. "Uh... it... changes?"

A few snickers rippled through the classroom. Owen Keating, who sat two rows over, made a spinning motion with his finger next to his temple, mouthing "space cadet" to his lab partner.

Mrs. Grayson's expression was a mix of disappointment and resignation. "Yes, Mr. Lamb, it does indeed 'change.' Perhaps you could be a bit more specific about how it changes?"

David stared blankly at the pendulum demonstration, trying to remember anything from last night's reading. "It... goes faster? When the radius gets smaller?"

"That's the beginning of a correct answer," Mrs. Grayson said, though her tone suggested she knew it was more of a lucky guess than actual understanding. "When a rotating object's radius decreases, its angular velocity increases to conserve angular momentum. This is why figure skaters spin faster when they pull their arms in."

She demonstrated by pulling the weights on the pendulum closer to the center, causing it to swing noticeably faster.

"The mathematical relationship," she continued, turning to the whiteboard, "is expressed as L = I × ω, where L is angular momentum, I is moment of inertia, and ω is angular velocity. When moment of inertia decreases due to mass moving closer to the axis of rotation, angular velocity must increase proportionally to maintain the same angular momentum."

As she wrote a series of equations on the board, David slumped in his seat, the fantasy of successfully asking out Francine Holderman temporarily replaced by the familiar sting of classroom humiliation.

"For tomorrow," Mrs. Grayson announced, "I expect everyone to complete problems twelve through twenty-seven in chapter eight. And Mr. Lamb," she added, giving him a pointed look, "perhaps you could give those problems your undivided attention?"

"Yes, ma'am," David mumbled, feeling his face grow even hotter.

Zack Pullman, the soccer team's goalie who sat in front of David, turned around with a smirk. "Smooth, Lamb. Real smooth."

Fortunately, Mrs. Grayson redirected the class's attention to a video demonstration of conservation of angular momentum, giving David a brief reprieve from his embarrassment. As the lights dimmed for the video, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Francine and the town meeting.

His shift at the grocery store ended at seven-thirty tomorrow, which meant he'd miss the beginning of the meeting but could still make it for most of it. If his parents were going, maybe he could convince them to pick him up from work on their way.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was better than nothing. And maybe, just maybe, Francine would be pleased to see him there. The possibility made even Mrs. Grayson's upcoming test seem less daunting.

The rest of Physics passed in a blur of equations and rotating objects that David barely registered. When the bell finally rang, he gathered his unused notebook and headed for his next class, already rehearsing what he might say to Francine at the town meeting—assuming he could find the courage to say anything at all.

David sprinted toward the crosswalk, glancing at his watch with growing panic. He was cutting it close—ten minutes until his shift started at Morgan's Grocery. Mr. Morgan wasn't exactly known for his flexibility when it came to tardiness.

Distracted by thoughts of the upcoming town meeting and whether he'd have the courage to approach Francine there, David didn't notice the car until its horn blared. He froze mid-stride, heart lurching as a sedan screeched to a halt inches from where he stood.

An elderly woman with a tight silver perm peered at him through the windshield, her expression unreadable. For several uncomfortable seconds, she simply stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to place him in her memory. There was something unsettling about her gaze—too focused, too intense—that made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

David raised a hand in awkward apology and backed onto the curb. The woman continued to stare for another long moment before driving away, her car moving with deliberate slowness.

"Nice going, space cadet," he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. The near-miss had left his legs feeling wobbly. Getting hit by a car was not the kind of excitement he needed today.

He managed to clock in with exactly two minutes to spare, earning a raised eyebrow from Mr. Morgan as he hurriedly tied his apron.

"Cutting it close, Lamb," Mr. Morgan commented, his voice dry. "I was about to call your replacement."

"Sorry, sir," David replied, straightening his nametag. "It won't happen again."

"Mmm-hmm." Mr. Morgan handed him a pricing gun. "Aisle four needs restocking. And when you're done with that, Carol called in sick so you'll be on register three."

David suppressed a groan. Register duty was his least favorite part of the job—the combination of mental math under pressure and forced customer interaction was his personal idea of hell. But he just nodded, taking the pricing gun without complaint.

The afternoon crawled by as David methodically worked through his tasks. Restocking shelves at least gave him time to think, his hands finding a rhythm as he arranged cans and checked inventory. The repetitive nature of the work allowed his mind to wander, primarily to the upcoming town meeting and the possibility of seeing Francine there.

His mundane routine was interrupted when he spotted a familiar face at the end of the aisle—Chad Markinson, one of Nevin's core group of friends. Chad was a basketball player, tall and broad-shouldered, whose primary personality trait seemed to be laughing too loudly at Nevin's jokes. Today he was wearing his Millridge Eagles varsity jacket despite the mild weather, a not-so-subtle reminder of his athletic status.

David ducked his head, pretending to be deeply absorbed in arranging soup cans, hoping Chad wouldn't notice him. No such luck.

"Well, if it isn't the space cadet," Chad called loudly enough for other customers to turn and look. "Arranging those cans alphabetically, or just trying to remember what they're called?"

David's shoulders tensed. "Can I help you find something?" he asked, his employee script overriding his desire to disappear.

"Nah, I'm good." Chad smirked, grabbing a bag of chips from a nearby display. "Just picking up some stuff for the game tonight. A bunch of us are heading to Nevin's to watch the tournament." He paused, his smile turning smug. "But I guess you wouldn't know about that, would you?"

"I have work," David replied stiffly, turning back to his shelving.

"Right. Work." Chad's tone made the word sound pathetic. "Well, have fun with your... soup."

David kept his eyes fixed on the shelf, methodically continuing his task until Chad moved on. It was a small interaction, but it left him feeling worse than he'd expected. Being excluded wasn't new, but having it thrown in his face still stung.

By the time his break rolled around, David had mostly pushed the encounter from his mind. He sat in the employee break room, unwrapping a sandwich he'd brought from home and scrolling through Battle of the Ancients patch notes on his phone. The small room was empty except for him, the ancient refrigerator humming loudly in the corner.

His brief respite ended too quickly, and soon he found himself stationed at register three, scanning items and making small talk with customers. He had just finished ringing up Mrs. Calloway's weekly groceries when he spotted them—Nevin's parents, with a cart piled high with party supplies. Behind them trailed Nevin's younger brother Derek, looking bored and playing some game on his phone.

David's stomach tightened. If Nevin's parents were shopping here, there was a good chance Nevin himself might appear. But as they approached his register, David realized he had no choice but to serve them.

"Good afternoon," he said mechanically as they began unloading their cart. "Did you find everything you were looking for?"

"We did, thank you," Mrs. Nevage replied politely, barely glancing at him as she arranged items on the conveyor belt. She was a tall, elegant woman dressed in clothes that probably cost more than David made in a month. Mr. Nevage, immaculately dressed in a casual but clearly expensive ensemble, was focused on his phone, fingers tapping out what looked like an email.

David scanned their items in silence: imported chocolates, specialty cheeses, organic fruits, and an assortment of gourmet beverages that seemed completely disconnected from a teenage gaming party. The total kept climbing with each scan.

"Paper or plastic?" David asked when he'd finally finished scanning everything.

"Paper, please," Mrs. Nevage replied. "And do be careful with those cheeses. They're from a specialty shop in Atlanta."

"Yes, ma'am," David said, carefully bagging the items.

As he worked, Derek glanced up from his phone, eyeing David's nametag. "Hey, you're that guy Nevin was talking about. From woodworking class."

David froze momentarily, then continued bagging. "That'll be $172.68," he said to Mrs. Nevage, ignoring the comment.

Mr. Nevage finally looked up from his phone, handing over a sleek black credit card without really looking at David. "Derek, go get the car started," he said, tossing keys to his younger son.

Derek caught them one-handed but lingered. "But this is the guy—"

"Now, please," Mrs. Nevage cut in, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Derek rolled his eyes but complied, shuffling out of the store. Mr. Nevage returned to his phone while Mrs. Nevage watched David finish bagging their groceries.

"You're Michael Lamb's son, aren't you?" she asked suddenly.

David looked up, surprised. "Yes, ma'am."

"I thought so. I can see the resemblance." She studied him for a moment. "Your father restored an antique cabinet for us a few years ago. Beautiful work."

"Thank you," David replied, unsure what else to say. He vaguely remembered his father spending weekends on a restoration project for a "fancy client" — his dad's primary passion was classic cars, but his skill with woodworking had led to occasional side projects for extra income, especially when he was saving up for car parts.

Mrs. Nevage seemed about to say something else when Mr. Nevage cleared his throat impatiently. "We should get going, dear. The caterers will be arriving soon for Nevin's tournament gathering."

Caterers. For a high school game night. And they were still buying nearly two hundred dollars' worth of gourmet food. David handed over the receipt, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"Thank you," Mrs. Nevage said with a polite nod, gathering her bags. "Do tell your father I said hello."

David watched them leave, feeling oddly unsettled. The interaction had been cordial enough, but something about it left him feeling diminished, as though he'd been briefly examined and then dismissed as unimportant.

The rest of his shift passed uneventfully. By closing time, David was exhausted from the constant interaction and eager to get home. As he clocked out, Mr. Morgan approached him.

"Not bad today, Lamb," he said, which was about as close to a compliment as the manager ever got. "You kept the line moving even during the rush. That's what I like to see."

"Thanks, Mr. Morgan," David replied, slightly surprised by the positive feedback.

"Your till balanced too," Mr. Morgan continued. "Keep it up. Maybe I'll put you on register more often."

David forced a smile while internally groaning. "Great. Looking forward to it."

Outside, the evening air had turned chilly. David zipped up his jacket and started the walk home, his mind already drifting to the weekend ahead. He'd have to start his Physics homework tonight if he wanted to make it to the town meeting tomorrow. Maybe he could text Tony afterward to run some practice matches in Battle of the Ancients, assuming Tony wasn't still at Nevin's party.

The town seemed quieter than usual, with fewer people out and about. David supposed the recent disappearances had made everyone more cautious. He found himself walking a little faster, sticking to well-lit streets and avoiding the shortcuts through the park that he might normally take.

Halfway home, he noticed a familiar figure walking ahead of him—Morgan Altura, his hood pulled up against the evening chill. David quickened his pace to catch up.

"Hey, Morgan," he called.

Morgan turned, looking startled until he recognized David. "Oh, hey. Getting off work?"

"Yeah, just finished. You heading home?"

Morgan nodded, falling into step beside him. "I was at the library, trying to finish that history essay. The one on industrial development in the South."

"Right," David grimaced. "I haven't even started that yet."

"It's not due until next week," Morgan shrugged. "But I wanted to get it done before the weekend."

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment before David spoke again. "Have you seen Melissa lately? Is she still acting weird?"

Morgan's expression darkened. "Yeah. She didn't come home last night until like, two in the morning. My parents were freaking out, calling her friends, the whole deal. Then she just walked in like nothing was wrong, said she'd been 'exploring' and went straight to her room."

"Exploring what?"

"She wouldn't say." Morgan kicked at a stone on the sidewalk. "My dad tried to ground her, but she just laughed this really weird laugh and said 'temporal limitations are meaningless in the great design.' Whatever that means."

"That's... concerning," David said, unsure how to respond to such bizarre behavior.

"Tell me about it." Morgan sighed. "My parents think she might be on something. They're talking about drug testing her, maybe therapy. But she's eighteen, so they can't really force her to do anything."

They turned onto Oak Street, where the historic homes were set farther back from the road, large trees casting long shadows in the fading light.

"You still planning to come to the town meeting tomorrow?" David asked.

"Probably. My parents are definitely going. They're pretty freaked out about all these disappearances." Morgan glanced at him. "You going to talk to Francine there?"

David felt his face warm. "Maybe. If I can think of something to say that doesn't make me sound like a complete idiot."

"Just be yourself," Morgan suggested.

"That's what I'm afraid of," David replied with a half-smile.

They reached the corner where their paths diverged, Morgan heading toward the newer subdivision while David continued toward his family's older neighborhood.

"See you tomorrow, then," Morgan said. "Text me when you get to the meeting?"

"Will do."

As David walked the remaining blocks home, he found himself thinking about Melissa's strange behavior and the weird car incident earlier. The town felt different lately—tenser, somehow. Even familiar streets seemed to hold new shadows, and normal interactions carried undertones he couldn't quite interpret.

He was relieved when he finally reached his house, warm light spilling from the windows. Inside, the familiar sounds of his family going about their evening routines welcomed him. His father was in the living room, flipping through a car magazine while the news played quietly on the television. His mother was in the kitchen, the smell of something baking filling the air.

"There he is," his father called as David hung up his jacket. "How was work, son?"

"Fine," David replied automatically. "Pretty normal day."

His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "There's lasagna in the oven if you're hungry. Should be ready in about twenty minutes."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Oh, and David? Ms. Reynolds called from school today. She said you haven't turned in your college application essay yet. The deadline's coming up."

David suppressed a groan. He'd been avoiding the essay for weeks. How was he supposed to write five hundred words about his life goals when he barely knew what he was doing next weekend?

"I'm working on it," he said. "It's just... not quite right yet."

His mother gave him a look that said she wasn't fooled. "Well, work on it harder. Those applications won't submit themselves."

"I know, I know. I'll finish it this weekend, promise."

"Good." She softened slightly. "And honey? Try to get some sleep tonight. You look exhausted."

David nodded and headed upstairs to his room, dropping his backpack on the floor and collapsing into his desk chair. He spun slowly, taking in the familiar surroundings—gaming posters on the walls, a bookshelf stuffed with fantasy novels he'd read in middle school, his computer setup dominating one corner of the room.

The comfortable familiarity of his bedroom should have been reassuring, but tonight it felt almost confining. Like everything else in his life, it represented a version of himself he wasn't sure he wanted to be anymore—the shy gamer kid who faded into the background, who panicked at the thought of talking to a girl, who never quite fit in anywhere.

Maybe the town meeting would be different. Maybe he could find the courage to step outside his comfort zone, to talk to Francine, to be someone other than "space cadet" David Lamb for once.

He turned to his computer and powered it up, opening a blank document for his college essay. The cursor blinked at him accusingly as he stared at the empty page.

Five hundred words about your life goals and aspirations.

David sighed and began to type. My name is David Lamb, and I...

He stopped, deleted the sentence, and tried again. For as long as I can remember, I've been interested in...

Delete.

My future plans include...

Delete.

After twenty minutes of false starts, David had produced exactly three sentences he didn't immediately hate. The smell of lasagna wafting up from the kitchen provided a welcome excuse to take a break. He saved the meager progress and headed downstairs, his stomach rumbling.

Dinner was its usual mixture of family updates and gentle interrogation. Janice dominated the conversation with details about homecoming preparations while their father occasionally interjected with questions about David's day. David kept his answers vague, avoiding any mention of his near-accident or the encounter with Nevin's family.

"There's a town meeting tomorrow night," his mother mentioned as she served second helpings. "About those disappearances. I think we should go."

"Absolutely," his father agreed. "The whole town needs to come together on this. Safety in numbers."

"My shift ends at seven-thirty," David said, trying to sound casual. "Could you pick me up on the way? I'd like to go too."

His mother looked pleased. "Of course. It'll be good for you to get involved in community matters."

Janice raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about town meetings?"

"I care about people disappearing," David replied defensively. "Plus, Francine Holderman specifically mentioned it at lunch today."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Janice's expression transformed into delighted comprehension.

"Francine Holderman? That's why you want to go?" She grinned wickedly. "David's got a crush!"

"I do not," David protested, feeling his face heat up. "I just think it's important to... to stay informed about community issues."

"Right," Janice drawled. "Very civic-minded of you. Nothing to do with Francine's bouncy curls or the way you stare at her in history class."

"Janice, leave your brother alone," their mother admonished, though her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "David, we'll pick you up at work tomorrow. The meeting starts at seven, but I'm sure we won't miss much in the first half hour."

David nodded, focusing intently on his lasagna to avoid his sister's knowing smirk. The rest of dinner passed without further embarrassment, and he escaped back to his room as soon as he'd helped clear the table.

The college essay still waited, the cursor blinking with maddening patience. David tried to force himself to focus, but his mind kept drifting to thoughts of the town meeting, Francine, and what he might say to her if he got the chance.

Eventually, he gave up on the essay and opened Battle of the Ancients instead. The familiar loading screen welcomed him, its animated logo pulsing gently. At least here, things made sense. Clear objectives, defined mechanics, predictable outcomes—everything the real world wasn't.

He logged in and was immediately greeted by a message from Tony.

You online? Check out the new Crystalline Warrior build I'm testing. Meet in practice arena?

David typed back quickly. On my way.

For the next two hours, the complexities of real life faded away as David lost himself in the game's intricate systems. By the time he logged off, it was past midnight, his eyes burning from staring at the screen too long.

He changed and got ready for bed, his thoughts already turning to tomorrow. The town meeting loomed in his mind—a chance to step outside his usual routines, to maybe be someone different for once. Whether that would be a good thing or just another opportunity for humiliation remained to be seen.

As he drifted toward sleep, the image of the elderly woman in the car returned to him—her strange, piercing gaze as she stared at him through the windshield. Something about that look had seemed off, almost as if she'd been seeing something beyond him, something only she could perceive.

Just another weird thing in a town that suddenly seemed full of them. David pulled his blanket closer and closed his eyes, hoping for dreamless sleep untouched by strange red lights or disappearing neighbors or the hundred ways he might embarrass himself in front of Francine Holderman tomorrow night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter!

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