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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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The gravel crunched softly beneath their feet, a sound both familiar and strange to Hazel. She'd heard countless stories about this place from the group during their time away, but this was her first time seeing it in person. Alex moved with practiced caution, his gait carefully modulated to appear normal despite the enhanced musculature beneath his clothing.

"So this is it," Hazel said, her eyes taking in the property - a modest house nestled alongside a larger storage building. "Looks different from how you described it."

Alex chuckled. "Probably sounds better in the stories. Not quite as glamorous in real life."

"Remember pulling DeShawn out of that canyon?" Hazel said, a hint of their shared history threading through her words. "I thought we were done for that time."

A shadow crossed Alex's face - the memory of a rescue that had been far more complex than a simple extraction. "Kid would've died if we'd been even an hour later," he responded, his voice low. The streetlights cast long shadows across the well-maintained lawn, everything seeming both unchanged and impossibly distant.

Alex shifted his weight, a movement that would look casual to anyone watching but was carefully calculated to avoid revealing any unusual muscular responses. "We should get inside before someone notices we're just standing here."

Hazel nodded, her own movements equally controlled. She scanned the neighborhood with a subtlety that came from years of heightened awareness, her eyes taking in details most would miss. A curtain moved in a nearby window - a movement that caught Alex's attention with a vague sense of familiarity.

"Mrs. Henderson still lives next door, I think," he said softly, the name surfacing like a half-remembered dream. "I remember her being... persistent about neighborhood rules."

A flicker of amusement crossed Hazel's face. "Sounds like someone who'd keep everyone in line."

The house looked exactly as he remembered, down to the small wind chimes on the porch that still hung from the same nail. Yet everything felt different. Alien. The memories of his life here seemed distant, filtered through the lens of their time spent somewhen else.

Hazel fell into step beside him, her posture reflecting years of following his lead. They'd developed a synchronicity that went beyond simple companionship - a mutual understanding forged through survival and shared impossible experiences.

Alex's hand brushed against the door, feeling the familiar grain of the wood. "One step at a time," he responded, a phrase that had become something of a mantra during their time away.

Alex realized immediately he no longer had his keys. A momentary flash of frustration crossed his face - a subtle reminder of how much had changed. His cybernetic neural link quickly analyzed potential entry methods, calculating the most minimal-damage approach.

"Of course," he muttered, more to himself than Hazel. "Fifteen years elsewhere and I've forgotten something as simple as house keys."

Hazel watched him, her stance relaxed but alert. Years of working together had taught her to read his micro-expressions, to understand the complex calculations happening behind his seemingly calm exterior.

He traced the door frame with enhanced tactile sensors built into his fingertips, feeling the precise molecular structure of the lock. A slight pressure - carefully modulated to avoid leaving any visible marks - and the mechanism would yield.

"Ready?" he asked Hazel, more out of habit than necessity. They both knew she was always ready.

Alex studied the lock, running a quick diagnostic through his neural interface. Minimal damage was crucial - any visible tampering could draw unwanted attention. His cybernetic systems analyzed the mechanism, calculating precise pressure points and internal tolerances.

With a subtle movement, he produced a small multi-tool from his pocket - something he'd carried before his transformation. A quick manipulation of the lock's internal mechanism, applying just enough precise pressure to disengage the pins.

The door opened with a soft click, moving smoothly without any sign of forced entry.

"After you," he said quietly to Hazel, allowing her to enter first while he scanned the immediate surroundings. Old habits died hard - always checking for potential threats, always maintaining situational awareness.

The interior of the house was exactly as he remembered, yet somehow foreign. Dust had settled in precise layers, undisturbed for what had been a week in this reality. Familiar furniture stood like museum pieces - a couch where he used to plan expeditions, a small desk covered in old maps and expedition notes.

As they moved deeper into the house, a sharp, insistent beeping suddenly cut through the silence. A digital alarm system began its urgent warning sequence.

"Crap, forgot about that," Alex muttered, his hand already moving to disengage the system before it could trigger a full alarm. His muscle memory seemed momentarily at war with his enhanced capabilities, a brief internal struggle between old habits and new reflexes.

Hazel watched, her stance relaxed but ready, giving Alex space to handle the security system. Years of working together had taught her when to step in and when to let him manage a situation.

The beeping continued, a rhythmic pulse that felt almost like a challenge to their carefully maintained discretion. Each second the alarm remained active increased the risk of drawing unwanted attention.

Alex's fingers moved with practiced precision, though his muscle memory seemed slightly off. A quick mental calculation through his neural interface helped him recall the old security code - a combination of his mother's birthday and his military service number.

The beeping stopped abruptly, replaced by a soft electronic chirp signaling successful disarming.

"Older model system," he said to Hazel, a hint of dry humor in his voice. "Probably needs an upgrade."

She raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Their shared experience had developed a language of small gestures and subtle expressions that needed no words.

The house settled around them, the brief electronic interruption fading into silence. Dust motes danced in the soft light filtering through unchanged curtains, a scene frozen in time waiting to be reanimated.

"Kitchen first?" Hazel suggested, her practical nature already assessing their next move.

Alex nodded, moving towards the kitchen. The space looked exactly as he remembered - clean countertops, a few rarely used appliances, a calendar still pinned to the wall from before their departure.

He opened the refrigerator, knowing it would be empty. He always meticulously cleaned out perishables before any expedition. The light flickered on, revealing pristine, untouched shelves. No spoiled food, no lingering odors - just pure, sterile emptiness.

"Guess I'll need to go shopping," he muttered, closing the door.

Hazel was already checking the pantry, her movements efficient. Canned goods, some dry staples, a few sealed packages of coffee and tea. Exactly as they would have been left.

A sound outside - the faintest rustling - caught his attention. Years of training, enhanced by his modifications, made him turn slightly, scanning the window.

"We should check the storage building next," Alex said, turning back to Hazel. "Make sure everything's secure."

The back door led directly to the storage building - a large, warehouse-like structure that had always been more than just a simple garage. Alex's outdoor adventure business required substantial equipment storage, and the building reflected that necessity.

Metal shelving units lined the walls, meticulously organized with climbing gear, camping equipment, river rafting supplies, and specialized outdoor expedition gear. Each rack was labeled with military-like precision, a testament to Alex's organizational skills.

"Nothing's been disturbed," he murmured, running a hand along one of the shelves. Dust hadn't even settled differently, suggesting no one had entered since his departure.

Hazel moved methodically through the space, her enhanced vision taking in details most would miss. Specialized ropes hung in coiled perfection, waterproof cases stacked with mathematical precision, a row of expensive GPS units and communication equipment locked in a secured cabinet.

Alex paused at a workbench near the far wall. Tools hung on a pegboard, each in its exact designated space. A half-finished equipment repair project was frozen in time, exactly where he'd left it before their unexpected journey.

The workbench held more than just tools. A small bulletin board caught Alex's attention - pinned photographs and maps telling the story of past expeditions. Group shots from river trips, mountain climbing teams, wilderness training courses. Faces of people who had trusted him as a guide, each image a memory carefully preserved.

One corner held maintenance logs for their vehicles - detailed records of every repair, every maintenance check. His fingers traced the most recent entry, dated just before their departure.

Two vehicles occupied the space: a four-seater side-by-side utility vehicle, its rugged frame clean and well-maintained, and his secondary expedition van. An empty space marked where the third vehicle - the van they had taken on their last trip - once stood. The ghost of its absence was as clear as any physical presence.

"Everything looks exactly the same," he said quietly, more to himself than to Hazel.

A collection of portable generators stood in a dedicated charging station. Specialized communication equipment sat in protective cases, each labeled with expedition details and inventory numbers. High-end drones used for terrain mapping were locked in a secure cabinet, their carbon fiber bodies gleaming under the industrial lighting.

Alex moved to a large map of the Pacific Northwest mounted on the wall, marked with countless expedition routes, research areas, and potential new tour locations. Colored pins and hand-drawn notes revealed years of careful planning.

In the empty space where the van once stood, Alex's gaze lingered. "We abandoned her not long after we arrived," he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of distant memory. "Just after our first encounters with the Concordance's outer territories."

Hazel understood the unspoken weight behind his words. The van had been their last connection to their original world, discarded out of necessity in those chaotic first days of their arrival in a landscape that defied everything they'd known.

"Survival trumped sentiment," she responded, her tone matter-of-fact.

Alex nodded. The van had been more than just transportation - it had been a symbol of their previous life. Stripped for parts, its communications equipment and emergency supplies cannibalized in those first brutal weeks when they realized how fundamentally different this alternate earth was from their own.

"The Concordance had been around for centuries," he added, more to himself than to Hazel. "We were just another group trying to survive in their massive, complex world." Those initial days had been about raw survival, learning to navigate a society centuries removed from their own understanding of civilization.

The rest of the storage building remained a testament to Alex's meticulous organization. Specialized equipment hung in precise rows - climbing harnesses, water filtration systems, high-altitude gear, and wilderness survival kits. Each item was not just stored, but carefully maintained, tagged, and ready for immediate use.

Alex moved to a locked metal cabinet near the back wall. His fingers traced the combination lock, a muscle memory that seemed to fight against his enhanced capabilities.

"We should inventory everything," he said to Hazel, more out of professional habit than actual necessity. They both knew nothing had been disturbed.

The cabinet contained more than just equipment. Stacked files and log books documented years of expedition planning, client information, and detailed route maps. A lifetime of work, preserved exactly as he'd left it.

Hours passed as Alex and Hazel methodically worked through the storage building. Their movements were precise and efficient - Alex checking equipment specifications while Hazel cross-referenced inventory logs, creating digital backups of physical records.

The afternoon light shifted, casting long shadows across the meticulously organized space. Clipboard in hand, Alex paused, rolling his shoulders - a human gesture that belied his enhanced physiology.

"We need food," he said simply. It wasn't a suggestion, but a practical observation. Their enhanced metabolisms required consistent nutrition.

Hazel looked up from a stack of expedition logs, a trace of amusement in her eyes. "Money might be an issue. I don't suppose you kept a stash somewhere?"

Alex's hand reflexively moved to a hidden drawer in the workbench. "Always prepare for contingencies," he said, pulling out an envelope with cash and some credit cards.

"There's nothing in the kitchen. Grocery run?"

Alex nodded, already calculating the nearest stores and the quickest route. "We'll need to be careful. Blend in." The unspoken understanding hung between them - maintaining their cover was paramount.

He grabbed a set of keys for the side-by-side utility vehicle, checking its condition with a practiced eye. "Ready?"

"We should change first," Alex said, glancing down at their current attire. "My clothes are in the house. They should fit fine."

Hazel looked down at her own outfit. "But I'll definitely need something new."

Alex nodded toward the keys. "We'll stop at a store before the grocery run. Can't exactly walk into a market looking like we don't belong."

The subtle irony of his statement hung in the air between them - a reminder of their extraordinary journey.

"Walmart?" Hazel suggested pragmatically. "Quick, cheap, and we can get both groceries and clothes in one stop."

Alex grabbed the keys to the secondary expedition van, checking its condition quickly before sliding into the driver's seat. Hazel settled into the passenger side, her movements smooth and controlled.

The streets of Lynnwood looked unchanged - suburban homes, strip malls, the familiar landscape of their pre-journey world. Yet everything felt subtly different through their altered perceptions.

"Walmart's about ten minutes from here," Alex said, navigating the familiar roads with a mix of muscle memory and enhanced situational awareness.

Hazel scanned the passing scenery, her enhanced vision taking in details most would miss. Mundane details - a child's bicycle on a lawn, a mailman making his rounds - seemed almost extraordinary after their time elsewhere.

The van moved quietly through the afternoon traffic, two seemingly ordinary individuals returning to the most basic of human rituals: buying clothes and groceries.

The Walmart trip was a surreal experience. Alex and Hazel moved through the aisles, carefully selecting clothes and groceries, both acutely aware of the stark contrast between this peaceful environment and the world they'd left behind.

The sheer number of people, moving about their lives without fear, struck them both as almost unreal. Families shopping, children laughing, people casually browsing - it felt like watching a foreign film. The abundance of food, the clean streets, the complete absence of constant survival tension was jarring.

In the checkout line, they exchanged a brief glance. No words were necessary. The peace felt alien, almost uncomfortable after years of perpetual alertness. This world - their world - seemed fragile and naive, untouched by the brutal realities they'd experienced elsewhere.

They loaded their purchases into the van, the mundane act of grocery shopping feeling like a strange ritual from a forgotten life.

As they drove back from Walmart, a construction zone narrowed the road, forcing traffic to a crawl. Suddenly, a cyclist swerved too close, clipping the side of the van with a sharp metallic ping.

Before Alex could react, Hazel was already out of the passenger seat, moving with inhuman speed. Her body coiled like a predator, eyes locked on the startled cyclist who had barely finished his stumble.

"Hazel!" Alex's command cut through the air, sharp and authoritative. "Stand down!"

The cyclist stared in shock - first at the van, then at Hazel, then back at the van. Her movement had been so fast it seemed to blur, a stark contrast to normal human reflexes.

Alex's voice carried a warning edge that brooking no argument. "Get back in the van. Now."

Hazel's muscles remained tense for a moment, then she slowly retreated, sliding back into the passenger seat. The cyclist, still stunned, remained frozen in place.

Alex guided the van through the remainder of the construction zone, the incident with the cyclist hanging unspoken between them. The tension gradually dissipated as they returned to the familiar streets of Lynnwood.

Hazel remained silent, her posture slowly relaxing back into its usual controlled state. No explanation was needed - they both understood the reflexes born from their time elsewhere.

The van pulled into the driveway of Alex's property, the afternoon light casting long shadows across the well-maintained lawn. Another ordinary moment in a day that had been anything but ordinary.

As they unloaded groceries, a movement caught Alex's peripheral vision. Mrs. Henderson, the neighborhood's quintessential busybody, had emerged from her adjacent property, her keen eyes already locked onto them.

"Well, hello there," she called out, her voice carrying the unmistakable tone of someone eager for information. "I don't recall seeing you around recently."

Alex's stance shifted almost imperceptibly - a subtle preparation honed from years of negotiating with diverse political entities in the alternate earth. Diplomatic interactions with Concordance forces and various township representatives had refined his ability to navigate potentially complex social terrain.

Hazel watched, her posture slightly behind and to the side of Alex, observing the interaction with quiet attentiveness.

"Mrs. Henderson," he responded with a carefully measured tone. "Just got back from an expedition."

Mrs. Henderson's approach was calculated, her eyes sharp and probing. "I hope you're planning to address the landscaping," she said, her gaze sweeping critically over the property. "The HOA has been sending notices about the front yard's maintenance during your... absence."

Alex's internal systems were already calculating the fastest way to end this conversation. His diplomatic mode wasn't about being friendly, but about efficient extraction.

"I'll review the notices," he said, his tone deliberately flat and unengaging. A classic technique he'd perfected negotiating with rigid administrative systems in the Concordance.

Mrs. Henderson continued her litany of HOA regulations about lawn height and exterior maintenance, her tone persistent but measured. Hazel could see the subtle tension building in Alex's shoulders - a clear indication he was rapidly losing patience with the intrusive interrogation.

Hazel stepped forward, her presence cutting through Mrs. Henderson's monologue. "We appreciate the information," she said, her voice crisp and decisive. The shaved side of her head caught the light, her stance deliberately positioned between Alex and the neighbor.

Mrs. Henderson's gaze shifted, taking in Hazel's appearance - the undercut hairstyle, her direct posture. A flicker of judgment crossed her face.

"Well," she said, her tone shifting to something between concern and disapproval, "you're certainly... different. A bit young for him, aren't you? And looking like... well." She let the sentence hang, her meaning clear.

Hazel's eyes didn't waver. If anything, her smile became slightly sharper. "We'll handle the yard," she said, effectively ending the conversation.

Mrs. Henderson seemed to deflate, her carefully prepared speech derailed by Hazel's direct approach. She stammered something unintelligible, her usual control slipping.

Alex and Hazel turned simultaneously, moving towards the house with a synchronicity that left no room for further discussion. The door closed behind them, leaving Mrs. Henderson standing in the driveway, momentarily stunned.

Inside, Alex let out a soft chuckle. "That was efficient."

Alex's hand rested on the commutator, the weight of responsibility heavy in his grasp. The group was scattered, each member dealing with the aftermath of their shared trauma in their own way. And not all of those ways were healthy.

"Tori is the one I'm worried about," he said, his brow furrowed. "She's fragile, barely holding on."

Hazel nodded, her expression grim. "She's not the same person she was before. None of us are, but her... it's like something broke inside her."

Alex's jaw clenched, a flicker of anger and guilt crossing his features. "We need to keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn't slip away from us entirely."

"And Rose?" Hazel asked, her tone carefully neutral.

"Rose has changed too," Alex acknowledged. "But in a different way. She's become... hard. Stoic."

"She's adapted," Hazel said, a hint of admiration in her voice. "Become capable in ways we never could have predicted."

Alex sighed, the sound carrying the weight of countless difficult decisions. "We need her strength. Her resilience. If we're going to bring the group back together, Rose will be key."

The commutator pulsed silently in his hand, a reminder of the connections he needed to reforge, no matter how much they had all changed.

Alex adjusted the commutator's settings, his neural interface syncing with the device's unique frequency. "Rose first," he said quietly.

The connection established instantly. "I've secured a position at port security," Rose said without preamble, her voice calm and certain. "Good vantage point. Access to shipping manifests. I can monitor traffic patterns."

Alex nodded, unsurprised by her tactical thinking. "Good choice."

"Tori made contact," Rose continued, her tone softening slightly at the mention of her former closest friend. "She's... not stable, Alex."

"We know," Hazel said.

"I'll be there at 0600 tomorrow." A brief hesitation, almost imperceptible. "Should I... bring coffee?" The small social uncertainty slipped through, a rare glimpse of her old self, before her voice firmed again. "Never mind. I'll handle it."

The connection ended decisively. Alex lowered the commutator, exchanging a look with Hazel. "She's grown into herself."

"We should get some rest," Alex said, his enhanced senses already cataloging the house's defensive weaknesses. "Tomorrow's going to be... complicated."

Alex moved through the house with practiced efficiency, checking locks and sightlines while Hazel finished organizing their supplies. Both fell into familiar routines, their movements carefully measured to avoid revealing their enhanced capabilities even in private.

"Guest room's made up," Alex said, though they both knew Hazel would insist on taking watch shifts. Old habits from their time away wouldn't fade just because they were "home."

"I'll take first watch," Hazel said, already positioning herself where she could monitor both the front approach and side windows. Her enhanced vision would pick up any movement, even in darkness.

Alex didn't argue. Instead, he headed toward his old room, though sleep felt like a foreign concept in this too-peaceful setting.

"Wake me in four hours," he said, knowing she would anyway. Neither of them could sleep longer than that anymore - too many years of combat rotations had rewired their sleep patterns, even without considering their cybernetic enhancements.

The night settled around them, quiet in a way that felt almost unnatural after years of constant background danger. Through the windows, streetlights cast a gentle glow - so different from the harsh illumination they'd grown accustomed to in the other world.

Hazel took up her position, her enhanced senses tracking the normal nighttime sounds of suburban Lynnwood - distant traffic, the neighbor's air conditioning unit, a dog barking several blocks away. The sheer mundanity of it all felt surreal.

As Alex headed to his room, he paused briefly. "One day at a time," he said, echoing their old mantra.

Hazel's lips curved in a slight smile, her eyes never leaving their watch position. "One day at a time," she agreed.

The house creaked softly, settling into its nighttime rhythm, as two warriors who had trained in another world tried to do the same.

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

End Chapter!

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The pre-dawn light hung like a thin gray veil over Alex's property. Alex and Hazel moved through the covered walkway connecting the house to the equipment garage with practiced synchronicity. Each step was measured, deliberate - a habit born from years of survival in a world where the slightest miscalculation could mean death.

The door to the garage opened with a soft, well-maintained click. Alex's fingers brushed the light switch, flooding the space with a controlled illumination that revealed rows of meticulously organized shelving, work benches, and carefully stored expedition equipment.

Something was off.

Hazel's enhanced vision swept the space, catching minute details that would escape normal human perception. A wrench positioned two millimeters from its usual spot. A slight scuff on the floor's pristine surface. The barely perceptible weight of a presence that shouldn't be there.

Alex felt it too. His hand, seemingly casual, drifted closer to where a weapon might have been hidden in their previous world. Now, it was just a reflexive movement, a ghost of muscle memory.

"You see it?" he murmured, more a statement than a question.

Hazel's slight nod was all the confirmation needed.

The garage sprawled like a cathedral to outdoor equipment, three car-width spaces dominated by racks of expedition gear, carefully stored vehicles, and modular storage systems. Toward the far end, a loosely defined workspace jutted out - part workshop, part storage area, its boundaries blurred by tall shelving units and strategically placed equipment cases.

Hazel moved with fluid grace, her enhanced vision scanning the expansive space. Shadows and equipment created a complex topography of potential concealment, but nothing immediately suggested intrusion.

Until Alex's hand stopped, hovering over the workbench.

A soft metallic sound caught his attention - barely perceptible, but distinct enough to make his enhanced hearing zero in. From the workbench. From the engine restoration project he'd been slowly rebuilding over the years.

"Someone's here," he said quietly, not a question but a statement of fact.

His fingers traced the edge of the workbench. Microscopic details told a story - a specific type of precision that went beyond his own careful restoration work. Connections slightly realigned. Tool placement subtly shifted.

"Hazel," he said, his voice carrying a mix of professional assessment and something else. Something that might have been amusement. "We're not alone."

The soft sound of metal on metal came from the furthest section of the workspace. Not a random noise, but methodical, purposeful. Someone was working - their movements precise, almost musical in its regularity.

Hazel's head turned slightly, tracking the sound. Her enhanced hearing picked up details: the specific weight of tools being manipulated, the controlled breath of someone deeply concentrated.

Alex's hand hovered near the workbench, fingers millimeters from the modified engine components. His posture shifted - no longer just discovering an intrusion, but now fully aware of the presence in the space.

"Rose," he said softly, a statement more than a question.

The rhythmic metalwork continued from the far section of the garage, temporarily uninterrupted.

The metalwork continued, a rhythm Rose had developed during their months of coordinated group gathering. Alex and Hazel recognized that precise cadence instantly - the same methodical approach she'd used when planning their complex retrieval missions with Daniel.

No surprise registered in their expressions. If anything, Alex's lips quirked in a slight, knowing smile. Of course Rose would be here. Of course she would have found a way to be exactly where she needed to be.

Hazel's stance relaxed marginally - not because the situation was less tense, but because Rose's presence was now as familiar to them as their own breathing. After months of working together to reassemble their fractured group, her unexpected arrival felt almost routine.

Alex took a step forward, not to surprise or confront, but to announce their presence. "Interesting modifications," he said, his voice carrying the dry tone of someone who'd watched Rose tinker with equipment countless times during their journey.

Rose's hands continued their precise movements, seemingly oblivious to Alex and Hazel's approach. The soft clink of metal on metal filled the air as she worked, focused intently on whatever project had captured her attention.

Alex cleared his throat, not out of awkwardness, but as a courtesy. "I see you've made yourself at home," he said, his tone dry but not accusatory.

At his voice, Rose's movements paused. She turned, her eyes meeting theirs with a mix of familiarity and something harder to define. The months they'd spent working together to gather their scattered group had created a connection, but not the seamless synchronicity that Alex and Hazel shared.

"Alex. Hazel," Rose nodded to each in turn. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion. There were some ideas I needed to test, and this seemed the most logical place."

Hazel moved to examine Rose's work more closely, her enhanced vision picking up details that even Rose's skilled hands might have missed. "Impressive," she murmured, more to herself than the others. Then, louder: "But why here? Why now?"

Alex's gaze swept over the workstation, taking in the organized chaos of Rose's project. "I'm curious how you found this place," he added. "I don't recall mentioning it during our... travels."

The unspoken question hung in the air: What was the next step in their journey?

Rose's expression remained neutral, but there was a glint in her eye that suggested she had more to share. "I've been adapting some of the principles we encountered in the Mechanum Arcana," she said, gesturing to her work. "The applications here are... intriguing."

Alex sighed, a mix of exasperation and grudging admiration. "Rose, we agreed on 6 AM. It's barely 5:30."

Rose glanced at a device on her wrist - clearly not a standard watch. "Punctuality is a virtue," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "Besides, I wanted to assess the security of this location before our meeting."

Hazel's lips quirked in a half-smile. "And tinker with Alex's engine, apparently."

"Two birds, one stone," Rose said with a shrug. "Efficiency was crucial in Mechanum Arcana. Old habits."

Alex ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that spoke of familiarity with Rose's often intense focus. "Well, since you're here, we might as well get started. Though I'm curious how you found this place when we hadn't even decided on a meeting spot yet."

Rose's expression remained neutral, but there was a glint in her eye. "Let's just say I've been... proactive in establishing our network here. It seemed prudent, given our situation."

The unspoken weight of their shared experiences hung in the air. Alex and Hazel exchanged a glance - a silent conversation honed by years together.

"Alright," Alex said, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. "You mentioned Daniel. And 'what comes next.' I'm assuming you have more than engine modifications on your mind."

Rose nodded, her demeanor becoming more serious. "We need to discuss our next steps. This world... it's not equipped for what we've seen, what we can do. And Daniel's abilities complicate things further."

Hazel leaned against a workbench, her posture casual but her eyes alert. "So, what are you proposing?"

Rose took a deep breath, clearly preparing to lay out a plan. "First, we need to establish a secure base of operations. This garage is a start, but..."

Rose gestured around the garage. "This space has potential, but we need to enhance its security and functionality. I have some ideas based on what we used in the Mechanum, adaptations that won't raise suspicion but will give us an edge."

Alex nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We'll need to be careful. Any unusual energy signatures or tech could draw attention we don't want."

"Agreed," Rose said. "I've been working on ways to mask our activities. Low-profile adaptations that blend with existing technology."

Hazel pushed off from the workbench, pacing slowly as she spoke. "Security is crucial, but we also need to consider our long-term goals. Are we just trying to reintegrate into this world, or do we have a larger purpose?"

A moment of silence fell as the weight of her question settled over them.

"Both," Alex said finally. "We can't ignore what we've learned, what we've become. But we also can't disrupt this world's natural progression."

Rose nodded. "Which brings us to Daniel. His abilities... they're a wild card. We need to establish protocols for how and when he uses them."

"And for when he arrives with the Tesseract," Hazel added. "That kind of technology in this world..."

"Could be catastrophic if mishandled," Alex finished.

Rose pulled out a small device, activating a holographic display. "I've drafted some initial plans for our base setup and security measures. We should review them and make adjustments based on all our expertise."

Hazel's eyebrows raised slightly, a mix of curiosity and admiration in her voice. "Wait, you've already drafted plans? We've barely been back a day. When did you find the time to do all this?"

Rose's lips quirked in a small smile. "Time management was a crucial skill in the Mechanum. I've had some... practice."

As the holographic schematics flickered to life, the trio leaned in, their focus sharp. The garage around them seemed to fade into the background as they immersed themselves in planning their next moves in a world that was both familiar and deeply changed.

The holographic display flickered with schematics and plans as Rose outlined her initial ideas. Alex and Hazel contributed their insights, drawing from their field experience and survival skills. The discussion touched on security measures, communication protocols, and contingency plans.

As they talked, the sun began to rise, painting the garage in soft morning light. Alex glanced at his watch.

"We've covered the basics," he said, "but there's still a lot to figure out. For now, let's focus on immediate priorities."

Hazel nodded. "Securing this location and establishing a communication network should be our first steps."

Rose began shutting down the holographic display. "Agreed. I can start on the security upgrades today. But we'll need to meet again soon to discuss Daniel and the Tesseract."

Alex's expression turned thoughtful. "Speaking of Daniel, we should probably reach out to him. Make sure everything's on track for his arrival."

The mention of Daniel seemed to shift the energy in the room, a reminder of the complexities still ahead of them.

"I'll handle that," Hazel volunteered. "In the meantime, Rose, maybe you can give us a rundown of what exactly you've been doing to Alex's engine?"

As Hazel and Rose turned towards the engine, they froze. There, standing by the machinery as if he'd been there all along, was Daniel. His presence seemed to warp the very fabric of reality around him, the air shimmering subtly in his wake.

Daniel's once-dark hair had turned a striking silver, falling past his shoulders in stark contrast to the simple, dark clothing he wore. His face bore the weathered dignity of age, yet his movements carried an unsettling fluidity, as if he were experiencing multiple moments simultaneously. His eyes, deep and unfathomable, occasionally shifted focus to things no one else could see.

At his belt hung an object that hurt to look at directly - a puzzle box that seemed to exist in more dimensions than it should, its geometries defying conventional physics.

Alex, sensing the change in his companions, turned to look. His breath caught for a moment before he managed to speak. "Daniel," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "I didn't hear you come in."

Daniel's gaze lifted from the engine, meeting each of their eyes in turn. His expression was unreadable, carrying the weight of experiences beyond normal human comprehension. When he spoke, his voice was calm, almost detached.

"Interesting modifications, Rose," he said, as if continuing a conversation they'd been having all along. "The temporal resonance is... unexpected."

Rose's eyes lit up at Daniel's comment, her earlier caution momentarily forgotten in the face of a shared technical interest. "You noticed that? I've been experimenting with some principles I learned in the Mechanum. The temporal resonance is actually a byproduct of—"

"Rose," Alex interjected, his tone firm but not unkind. He recognized the gleam in her eye, the same one she'd had during countless late-night engineering sessions in their time away. "As fascinating as I'm sure this is, we have more pressing matters to discuss."

Rose paused, looking slightly crestfallen but nodding in understanding. "Right, of course. There'll be time for that later."

Hazel, who had been silently observing the exchange, stepped forward. "Daniel," she said, addressing the elephant in the room, "we weren't expecting you quite so soon. Is everything alright?"

Daniel's gaze shifted to Hazel, his expression inscrutable. "Time," he said, "is a relative concept. But yes, everything is proceeding as it should."

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture of both exasperation and reluctant acceptance. "I had wanted to forget about that aspect you've developed," he said, then looked up, his expression shifting to one of determination. "Actually, we need some of our gear so we can get started."

He turned his attention fully to Daniel, his tone becoming more businesslike. "We need the Chimera. It's essential for our operations here."

Daniel nodded, his silver hair catching the light as he moved. "The mobile command vehicle. A practical choice."

Alex continued, "It's got everything we need to establish a foothold here. The expanded interior, the command area, the repair station. Not to mention the armor and weapons systems."

Hazel chimed in, her voice carrying a note of caution. "We'll need to be careful about how and where we deploy it. A vehicle like that isn't exactly inconspicuous in this world."

Daniel's expression remained impassive, but there was a subtle shift in the air around him. "Retrieving it will require careful timing," he said. "The fabric of reality here is... less accommodating to such transitions. Additionally, the dimensions of the Tesseract aren't exact to this location at this moment in time."

Alex frowned. "What does that mean for us?"

"If you're willing to wait, it'll be fine," Daniel explained. "But it must be brought in outside this structure. This exterior location works more to accommodate dimensional proportions today."

Alex nodded, understanding the implications. "Alright, we'll plan for an exterior transfer. Rose, can you work on creating a shielded area outside? Something to mask any temporal or dimensional disturbances when we bring the Chimera through?"

Rose was already pulling out her holographic display, her fingers dancing over the controls. "I can have something ready by tonight. It won't be perfect, but it should minimize any detectable anomalies."

"Good," Alex said, his gaze sweeping over the group. "Let's get to work."

With that, each member of the group fell into their roles, beginning the preparations for the Chimera's arrival and the establishment of their new base of operations.

```````````````````````````

The familiar buzz of the University of Washington campus washed over Tori as she made her way through the crowded quad. Everywhere around her, students laughed, chatted, and rushed to classes, their energy a stark contrast to the hollow feeling in her chest.

Tori's hand instinctively went to the small device at her throat - Rose's technomagic disguise that allowed her to appear as her old self. The 5'7" bottle blonde sorority girl everyone expected to see. Not the 6'1" blue-skinned, metallic gold-silver-haired being she had become.

As she approached the Liberal Arts building, Tori caught her reflection in a window. The face that looked back was familiar - and completely false. She forced a smile, trying to remember how it felt to be the peppy, trendsetting girl she once was. It seemed impossible that only a week had passed since her life had changed so drastically.

"Tori! You're back!"

The shrill voice made Tori flinch. She turned to see Jessica, one of her Kappa Alpha Theta sisters, running towards her.

"Hey Jess," Tori managed, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.

Jessica's eyes widened. "How was the rafting trip? We've all been dying to hear about it! Why didn't you come to the house last night?"

Tori nodded, fighting the urge to run. "It was... intense. I got in late and didn't want to wake anyone. I'll tell you all about it later."

As Jessica chatted about sorority gossip, Tori's enhanced hearing picked up fragments of conversations from across the quad. Discussions about exams and dating drama that once would have captivated her now seemed trivial, almost alien.

"...anyway, we have a chapter meeting tonight. You'll be there, right? We need to start planning for the charity event next month," Jessica said, reminding Tori of her leadership responsibilities.

"Right, the meeting. I'll... I'll be there," Tori said, knowing she couldn't avoid it without raising suspicions.

As Jessica dashed off to class, Tori stood frozen for a moment. The thought of returning to the sorority house, of pretending to be excited about events and mixers after everything she'd been through, made her stomach churn.

Taking a deep breath, Tori squared her shoulders and headed into the building. As she settled into her seat for her first class - American Literature - she couldn't help but feel like an imposter. A non-human creature playacting at being a college student, surrounded by people who had no idea of the horrors she'd endured or the changes she'd undergone.

The professor began his lecture, discussing the theme of identity in modern literature. Tori's pen hovered over her notebook, but she couldn't focus on taking notes. Instead, her mind wandered to the group - to Alex, Hazel, Rose, and the others. They were the only ones who truly understood, the only ones she could be herself around.

As the class dragged on, Tori found herself dreading the return to the sorority house. Here, surrounded by the normalcy of college life, she had never felt more alone.

As the lecture ended, Tori gathered her things slowly, watching her classmates file out with their easy chatter and laughter. The weight of her decision pressed down on her: return to the sorority house and keep up the charade, or find a quiet corner of Seattle to decompress.

Lost in thought, she didn't hear the heavy footsteps approaching from behind. A large hand suddenly connected with her rear, the sharp slap echoing in the nearly empty hallway. Tori's entire body went rigid, her enhanced muscles coiling with a tension that could have easily thrown her assailant across the room.

"Hey, beautiful," a deep voice rumbled. "Miss me?"

Tori turned, her face a mask of forced calm as she looked up at Brad's grinning face. Despite her true height of 6'1", Brad still perceived her as the petite 5'7" girl he remembered. The disconnect between her actual eye level and where Brad was focusing his gaze made her stomach churn.

"Brad," she managed, her voice tight. "You... startled me."

Brad's grin faltered slightly. "Everything okay, babe? You seem tense. Thought you'd be more excited to see me after your trip."

Tori's mind raced. She was acutely aware of how easily she could overpower him now, how her new physique was hidden beneath layers of technomantic illusion. The urge to step back, to create distance, was overwhelming.

"I'm just... tired," she lied, fighting the instinct to stand at her full height. "The trip was more intense than I expected."

Brad's brow furrowed with concern. He reached out to stroke her arm, a gesture that once would have sent pleasant shivers through her. Now, it took all of Tori's willpower not to flinch away, knowing that what he felt was a lie.

"Why don't we grab a coffee?" Brad suggested, still looking down at where he thought her face was. "You can tell me all about it. I've missed you, Tori."

The sincerity in his voice made Tori's heart ache. She wanted to tell him everything, to shed this false skin and reveal her true self. But the fear of his reaction, of losing one of the few connections to her old life, was paralyzing.

"I... I can't right now," Tori said, hating the tremor in her voice. "I have to get back to the house. Chapter meeting tonight."

Brad's disappointment was clear, but he nodded. "Alright, raincheck then. I'll call you later?"

Tori managed a weak smile. "Sure. Later."

As Brad walked away, Tori leaned against the wall, her breathing shallow. The brief interaction had left her feeling drained and conflicted. She looked down at her hands, knowing the strength they now possessed, hidden beneath the illusion of her former self.

With a deep breath, Tori straightened up and headed for the exit. The afternoon sun hit her face as she stepped outside, momentarily blinding her enhanced vision. She blinked, adjusting to the light, and scanned the bustling campus around her.

For a moment, she stood there, caught between two worlds - the familiar path to the sorority house and the tempting anonymity of the city beyond campus. Then, decision made, she started walking. Each step was deliberate, her mind focused on the immediate task of navigating through the crowd of students, pushing aside thoughts of what lay ahead.

The noise of the campus faded behind her as she made her way towards the city streets, seeking a quiet place where, just for a little while, she wouldn't have to pretend.

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

End Chapter!

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The lecture hall buzzed with the low hum of students typing on laptops, punctuated by the professor's droning voice explaining object-oriented programming principles. Nathan sat rigidly in his seat, his enhanced senses picking up every tiny sound and movement around him. The once-familiar concepts now seemed trivial, almost laughably simple compared to the complex systems he'd interfaced with during his time away.

His skin itched beneath his clothes, concealing the patchwork of supernatural grafts that had transformed his body. The urge to hunt, to use his newfound powers, gnawed at him relentlessly.

Abruptly, Nathan stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. The sudden movement drew all eyes in the lecture hall to him.

"Mr. Whitman?" the professor paused mid-sentence, eyebrows raised. "Is there a problem?"

Nathan's gaze swept across the room, taking in the curious and confused faces of his classmates. For a moment, he considered sitting back down, continuing the charade. But the thought of enduring another minute of this felt suffocating.

"This is pointless," Nathan said flatly, his voice carrying an edge that made several nearby students flinch. Without another word, he gathered his things and strode towards the exit.

"Nathan, we're in the middle of a lecture," the professor called after him, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. "If you leave now, it will affect your grade."

Nathan paused at the door, hand on the handle. He turned back, his eyes meeting the professor's. For a brief moment, his irises seemed to flicker with an inhuman light. "I don't care," he said simply, then pushed the door open and walked out.

As Nathan exited the building, he nearly collided with a muscular guy in a UW football jacket. The guy's face was vaguely familiar, but Nathan couldn't place the name.

"Yo, Nate! Where you been, man?" the teammate said, his initial grin fading to a frown. "You missed practice last night. Coach was pissed."

Nathan stared blankly, barely registering the words. In his mind, he marveled at how insignificant this all seemed now. Football. Practice. Coach. It was like looking at ants scurrying about their hill, oblivious to the larger world around them.

The teammate's tone grew annoyed. "C'mon, I know you were gone for a week on that rafting trip, but that's no reason to miss scheduled training. We've got a big game coming up."

Nathan felt his anger rising, the triviality of football practice grating against the experiences he'd had. His skin rippled slightly, the chameleon graft struggling to maintain his human appearance.

The urge to lash out, to tear into the teammate's flesh with his hidden claws, surged through Nathan. He clenched his fists, feeling the crystalline blades itching to extend. With a herculean effort, he turned away, striding quickly towards the campus exit.

It had only been four days since their return, but for Nathan, it felt like an eternity. The constraints of this world, so familiar yet now so mundane, were already chafing against his transformed nature. He was tired of pretending, of holding back. The urge to unleash his true self, to hunt and feed the monstrous aspects of his new being, was becoming harder to resist with each passing hour.

Nathan absently reached for a phone that wasn't there, having never bothered to replace the one lost in the alternate Earth. The thought of being connected to this mundane world held no appeal for him.

As he made his way across the campus, passing by groups of students engrossed in their phones or chatting about upcoming exams, the normalcy of it all felt surreal. Approaching the administrative area, with its stately brick buildings and manicured lawns, he caught sight of a familiar figure in the distance.

Rose walked along a path leading to one of the admin buildings, her posture slightly different than he remembered. Curiosity stirred within him, a faint echo of his old self. He changed course, moving to intercept her.

"Rose," he called out as he drew near.

She turned, her eyes widening slightly in recognition. "Nathan. I... didn't expect to see you here."

"Could say the same," he replied, studying her face. Even with her disguise, he could sense something different about her. "What brings you to admin?"

Rose hesitated for a moment. "I'm dropping out," she said finally. "College... it's not what I need right now."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Dropping out? You?"

"Things change," she said, a hint of steel in her voice. "I have plans, and a degree would just be a waste of time for what I want to do now."

Nathan nodded slowly, feeling a strange kinship in that moment. "I get it. More than you might think."

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, the weight of their shared experiences and divergent paths hanging between them.

"Well," Rose said finally, "I should go. Papers to sign and all that."

Nathan watched her walk away, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and disconnection. The Rose he knew, the girl he'd dated, was as gone as the Nathan he used to be.

Reaching the edge of the campus, Nathan glanced around briefly. Without warning, he crouched and leaped, his enhanced muscles propelling him vertically onto the roof of a nearby five-story building.

A maintenance worker, bent over an HVAC unit, jumped back with a startled yelp. "What the hell?!"

Nathan barely spared him a glance, already moving towards the opposite edge of the roof. With casual disregard for who might be watching, he leaped again, sailing through the air to land on the next building over.

As he continued his urban journey, bounding from rooftop to rooftop, Nathan felt a grim satisfaction. Let them see. Let them wonder. He was done hiding what he had become.

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

As Nathan strode away, leaving his bewildered teammate standing there, Brad Johnson—Tori's boyfriend—jogged over, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Hey, Tyler, what's up with Nate?" Brad asked, coming to a stop beside his friend. "I saw him storm off. He looked pissed."

Tyler Anderson shook his head, still staring in the direction Nathan had disappeared. "I don't know, man. It's like he's a completely different person. Blew me off like we've never even met before."

Brad ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, his expression troubled. "Yeah, he's been acting weird ever since he got back from that rafting trip. Missed practice last night too."

"Coach is gonna have his ass for that," Tyler said, turning to face Brad. "You think something happened on that trip? I mean, a week of rafting doesn't usually change a guy that much."

Brad shrugged, his muscular shoulders rippling under his UW sweatshirt. "No idea. Tori was on that trip too, but she's been... different as well. Not talking much about it."

The two football players stood in silence for a moment, the bustling campus life continuing around them. A group of students walked by, laughing about some shared joke, providing a stark contrast to the serious conversation between Brad and Tyler.

"You think we should talk to Coach?" Tyler finally asked. "I mean, if Nate's going off the rails, it could mess up our whole season."

Brad hesitated, loyalty to his teammate warring with concern for the team. "Let's give him a day or two. If he doesn't show up to practice tomorrow, then we'll talk to Coach. Maybe he's just going through some personal stuff."

Tyler nodded, not entirely convinced but willing to go along with Brad's suggestion. "Alright, man. But if he pulls this crap again, I'm not covering for him."

"Fair enough," Brad agreed. He glanced at his watch. "We better get going. Don't want to be late for practice ourselves."

As they walked towards the athletic facilities, Brad's mind wandered to Tori. "You know, come to think of it, Tori's been pretty distant lately too. I tried to catch up with her earlier, but she seemed... I don't know, almost scared to be around me."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?"

Brad shook his head. "Nah, it's not like that. It's just... weird, you know? Like she's carrying some heavy secret or something."

"Maybe it's got something to do with whatever's eating at Nate," Tyler suggested.

"Maybe," Brad mused. "But what could happen on a rafting trip that would mess them both up like this?"

They reached the locker room and started changing into their practice gear. The familiar routine of putting on pads and cleats provided a sense of normalcy, but the conversation about their teammates lingered in the air.

"You know," Tyler said as he laced up his cleats, "maybe we should organize something. Get the whole team together, do something fun. Might help Nate snap out of whatever funk he's in."

Brad nodded, pulling his jersey over his head. "That's not a bad idea. Tori too, maybe. Get everyone back on the same page."

As they headed out to the practice field, both Brad and Tyler were lost in thought, wondering about their friends and hoping that whatever was going on, it would blow over soon. The sound of whistles and the thud of kickoff practice filled the air, temporarily pushing their concerns to the back of their minds as they focused on the familiar rhythms of football.

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

Rose watched Nathan's retreating form, a frown creasing her brow. His behavior had been off, more so than she'd expected given their shared experiences. She waited until he was out of sight before reaching for the small communicator hidden in her jacket.

"Hazel," she said quietly into the device, "I just ran into Nathan. Something's not right. We might need to keep an eye out for any unusual sightings or incidents. He seemed... unstable."

After receiving Hazel's acknowledgment, Rose took a deep breath and turned towards the administration building. Its imposing facade loomed before her, a symbol of the life she was about to leave behind.

Inside, the air was cool and sterile. Rose approached the front desk, her posture straight and determined.

"I need to speak with someone about withdrawing from the university," she said to the receptionist.

Moments later, Rose sat across from Dr. Eleanor Winters, the university's senior career counselor. The older woman's brow was furrowed as she reviewed Rose's file on her computer screen.

"Ms. Newman," Dr. Winters began, her tone a mixture of concern and confusion, "I must say, this is highly unusual. Your academic record is exemplary. Perfect GPA, glowing recommendations from professors, and you're on track for early graduation. Why on earth would you want to withdraw?"

Rose maintained her composure, her face a mask of calm determination. "My priorities have changed, Dr. Winters. I've come to realize that my future lies outside of traditional academia."

Dr. Winters leaned forward, clasping her hands on the desk. "Rose, may I call you Rose? I've seen students make rash decisions before, often due to stress or personal issues. Whatever you're going through, I assure you, withdrawing is not the answer. We have excellent support services—"

"I appreciate your concern," Rose interrupted gently, "but this isn't a rash decision. I've given it careful thought. My experiences recently have... opened my eyes to other possibilities."

The counselor's eyes narrowed slightly. "These experiences during your rafting trip? Rose, one week away shouldn't derail your entire academic career. You have so much potential. Have you considered how this will impact your future job prospects?"

Rose allowed herself a small, knowing smile. "I have a clear plan for my future, Dr. Winters. It just doesn't involve a traditional career path."

Dr. Winters sighed, realizing she wasn't making headway. "At least consider taking a leave of absence instead of withdrawing completely. It would give you time to reconsider without closing doors."

"I appreciate the suggestion, but my mind is made up," Rose said firmly. "I'd like to proceed with the withdrawal, please."

Reluctantly, Dr. Winters began processing the paperwork. When she reached the financial section, her eyebrows shot up. "Rose, you understand that withdrawing at this point in the semester means you're responsible for the full tuition and fees? The amount due is... substantial."

"I'm aware," Rose nodded. "What's the total?"

Dr. Winters swiveled her monitor so Rose could see. "It comes to $14,372.50. Now, we can discuss payment plans—"

"That won't be necessary," Rose interrupted, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a sleek, metallic card that seemed to shimmer slightly in the office lighting. "I'll pay in full now."

Dr. Winters blinked in surprise. "I... see. Well, let me just process that for you." She took the card, examining it curiously before running it through the reader. The machine beeped its acceptance almost instantly.

As she handed the card back, Dr. Winters couldn't help but ask, "Rose, are you certain about this? It's a significant amount of money to walk away from your education."

Rose tucked the card away, her expression unwavering. "I'm certain, Dr. Winters. My education is far from over. It's just taking a different form now."

The counselor shook her head, a mixture of admiration and concern in her eyes. "Well, I can't say I understand, but I respect your decision. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, thank you," Rose said, standing up. "You've been very helpful."

As Rose left the office, Dr. Winters watched her go, unable to shake the feeling that she'd just witnessed something extraordinary—though she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

As Rose stepped out of the administration building, the warm afternoon sun hit her face. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of liberation mixed with the weight of responsibility for what lay ahead. The campus bustled around her, students rushing to classes or lounging on the grass, oblivious to the momentous change in her life.

Her communicator buzzed insistently. Rose ducked behind a large oak tree, away from prying eyes, before answering.

"Rose here," she said quietly.

Alex's voice came through, tense and urgent. "Rose, I need more details about your interaction with Nathan. What exactly happened?"

Rose frowned, recalling the brief encounter. "It was very short, Alex. He seemed... off. Agitated. But we didn't really talk about anything substantial."

"Did he say where he was going? Did he seem like he was about to do something rash?"

Rose shook her head, even though Alex couldn't see her. "No, nothing like that. He just seemed... disconnected. Why? What's going on?"

There was a pause on the other end. When Alex spoke again, his voice was grim. "We may already have a problem with him. There have been reports of someone matching his description doing some impossible feats around the city. Jumping between buildings, that sort of thing."

Rose's heart sank. "That's not good. He's not even trying to hide it?"

"Doesn't seem like it. Listen, Rose, we need to regroup. Can you meet us at home base in an hour?"

"I'll be there," Rose confirmed. She hesitated, then added, "Alex, I've withdrawn from the university. It's done."

There was another pause. "Understood. We'll talk more when you get here. Be careful, Rose."

The communication ended, leaving Rose standing alone under the oak tree. She looked out at the campus one last time, then turned and walked away, her mind already racing with plans and contingencies. She mentally cataloged the equipment she'd need to acquire, the systems she'd need to set up, and the security measures that would need to be implemented at their base of operations.

As she made her way off campus, Rose's thoughts were focused on the immediate tasks at hand. There was work to be done, and she was eager to get started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jake was in the middle of organizing his toolbox, the late afternoon sun beating down on the rooftop of the administrative building. The soft clink of metal tools against the metal case punctuated the ambient city sounds. He'd been working on the HVAC unit, taking a moment to catch his breath and reorganize his gear.

A sudden thud behind him made Jake spin around, tools clattering to the ground.

A young man had landed barely ten feet away, having seemingly materialized from nowhere. No ladder, no access point—just a sudden, impossible presence. His body was coiled with a predatory intensity, muscles taut beneath his clothing, eyes scanning the rooftop with a cold, calculating precision. Dark hair, athletic build, dressed in casual campus wear that seemed at odds with his feral energy.

Jake's hand instinctively reached for his phone, fingers fumbling to open the camera app. Something about this moment screamed "viral content"—something was fundamentally wrong about how this guy had just appeared.

Before Jake could fully process what he was seeing, the stranger moved again. Not walked, not ran—but launched himself with a speed and grace that defied human capability. In an instant, he was preparing to leap to the next building, his body gathering impossible potential energy.

Jake stood frozen, his phone camera capturing every impossible moment. The stranger seemed to hang in mid-air for a fraction of a second longer than physics should allow, his body coiled like a spring ready to release. Then he was moving again, landing on the next building with a fluidity that made Jake's brain struggle to process what he was seeing.

As quick as his surprise allowed, Jake switched to his front-facing camera. His weathered face filled the frame, eyes wide with genuine disbelief.

"Okay, TikTok," he muttered, "you are NOT gonna believe what I just saw."

He quickly edited the footage, zooming in on the impossible leap, slowing it down frame by frame. The stranger moved with a precision that seemed more machine than human—no wasted motion, no adjustment, just pure, calculated movement.

@RoofTopTechie wasn't just going to post another HVAC repair video today. This was something else entirely.

"Fifteen years," Jake spoke to the camera, "fifteen years I've been working on rooftops across Seattle. I've seen some crazy shit, but this?" He shook his head, a nervous laugh escaping. "This is next level."

He added the video clip, then cut back to himself. Hashtags were crucial—#SeattleMystery, #WTF, #SuperhumanSighting. This would blow up, he was sure of it.

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

End Chapter!

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Hazel's fingers danced across holographic interfaces, cycling through various local online channels. Her search pattern was methodical, filtering through social media, local news feeds, and obscure internet forums. The displays - what she would have once called cyberpunk back when such technology seemed extraordinary, but now were simply her standard work environment - shifted with each query, breaking apart and reassembling data streams in complex geometric patterns.

A forum post from a small logging community near Mount Rainier caught her eye. Unusual tree damage reports - not typical logging or storm-related destruction, but something more precise. Bark stripped in geometric patterns that suggested intentional, almost surgical modification. She cross-referenced the post with local forestry service reports, geological survey data, and satellite imagery.

The @RoofTopTechie TikTok video flickered into her peripheral view. The capture was low-resolution, details murky and indistinct. Without hesitation, she routed it through multiple video enhancement processors, knowing the initial quality would reveal little.

A satellite imagery overlay revealed subtle land contour anomalies near the logging community that didn't quite match geological survey records. Nothing definitive, but enough to warrant a more detailed investigation.

Hours passed. Her neural interface tracked multiple data streams, filtering, cross-referencing, building complex relational maps that would look like incomprehensible chaos to an untrained observer.

When she finally turned her full attention to the processed TikTok video, the enhanced version revealed little more than the original. And yet, something about it tugged at her subconscious - an almost imperceptible irregularity that defied immediate analysis but demanded attention.

The figure in the video moved with a precision that seemed just slightly beyond natural human movement. Not dramatically so, but just enough to ping her internal warning systems.

She isolated the frame, running it through another set of filters. The movement was subtle - a leap that carried just a fraction more distance than physics would typically allow. No ordinary viewer would notice. But Hazel wasn't an ordinary viewer.

Her fingers moved, expanding the video frame by frame. The individual capturing the footage - @RoofTopTechie - seemed to be an HVAC technician working on a rooftop. The subject of the video had appeared suddenly, moved impossibly, and disappeared just as quickly.

Hazel began compiling a preliminary report, her neural interface seamlessly organizing the fragments of data. Something about this warranted closer examination.

You're right. We should either add a reference to Alex's work earlier or make this the first mention. Let's modify the scene to make this a natural first introduction of his background activity:

Behind her, the rear section of their modified vehicle hummed softly. Alex was hunched over a workbench, carefully manipulating a piece of specialized equipment. The metallic components suggested something more complex than a simple tool - a piece of gear with strategic implications.

"Anything interesting?" he asked, not looking up from his work.

Hazel's fingers paused over the holographic interface. "Possibly. @RoofTopTechie video. Potential movement anomaly."

Alex shifted slightly, setting down a precision tool. His attention was now fully on Hazel, though his hands remained near the partially assembled device.

"Location?" he prompted.

"University of Washington administrative area rooftop," Hazel responded. Her neural interface pulled up a street map, marking the precise location. "HVAC technician captured the footage. Looks like an impromptu recording."

She isolated a specific frame, expanding it for closer examination. The figure's movement - just slightly beyond normal human capability - hung suspended in digital space.

"Familiar?" Alex asked, wiping a smudge of machine oil from his hand.

"Nathan," Hazel confirmed. Her tone was neutral, analytical. Not accusatory, just observational.

Alex set down the tool he'd been using, giving the video his full attention. "How much exposure?"

"Limited," Hazel replied. "TikTok video. Small local following. But these things spread quickly." Her fingers danced across the interface, tracing potential viral pathways.

The map expanded, showing clusters of potential shares and views. Most concentrated around the university campus and immediate Seattle area. But the potential for wider distribution was clear.

"We'll need to monitor," Alex said. It wasn't a suggestion, but a statement of fact.

Hazel nodded, already running multiple tracking algorithms. The video would be watched, its potential ripple effects mapped and analyzed. Nathan's moment of carelessness would be carefully monitored and managed.

Alex leaned closer to her display. "Local campus chatter?" he asked.

Hazel's fingers made a quick gesture, expanding a subset of social media feeds. Campus discussion boards, student group chats, the unofficial UW subreddit - all potential breeding grounds for viral content.

"Initial reactions are curiosity," she reported. "Some calling it a hack, others a special effects test. No serious traction suggesting genuine belief in the impossible."

Alex leaned in, studying a particular thread. "Kids these days are more skeptical than people give them credit for," he muttered.

"Skepticism doesn't always prevent spread," Hazel noted. Her tone remained flat, analytical. "Viral content follows its own unpredictable logic."

Alex traced a finger through the holographic projection, his movement causing the light-constructed pathways to ripple and recalibrate. Translucent blue-white lines shifted, reconnecting in new patterns as his touch disrupted their original configuration.

Hazel's interface shifted, pulling up a brief timeline of Nathan's recent activities. The abrupt departure from his computer science lecture, the rooftop incident, now this viral video - each a data point suggesting increasing instability.

"He's struggling," Hazel observed. Not a judgment, simply a statement of fact.

"Everyone adapts differently," Alex said. His voice carried a weight of understanding, hinting at experiences not yet detailed. "Some more dramatically than others."

The holographic map pulsed softly, information vectors spreading and contracting. Alex studied the display, his fingers occasionally tracing potential paths of digital transmission.

"We'll keep monitoring," he said, then turned back to the piece of equipment on his workbench, his attention immediately refocusing on the precise work before him.

Hazel nodded, her attention already shifting to the next potential concern. The video would be watched, tracked, but not immediately acted upon. Nathan was still one of theirs, after all.

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

The early morning fog clung to the streets of Seattle as Izzy arrived at the AMR (American Medical Response) station near Harborview Medical Center. The station, a converted warehouse space, buzzed with the quiet energy of shift change. Ambulances lined up in neat rows outside, their interiors visible through open rear doors as crews performed thorough checks of their equipment.

Izzy moved with practiced efficiency towards her assigned rig, her movements a blend of professional routine and an underlying intensity that set her apart from her fellow EMTs.

She adjusted her uniform, her hand unconsciously brushing against the folding knife secured at her belt - a constant companion she never went without.

The sword within her pulsed softly in agreement with her current environment. This station, positioned to serve one of Seattle's busiest medical districts, was precisely the kind of place that aligned with her deeper purpose.

Her partner, Jerome Williams, was already at the ambulance, clipboard in hand. "Morning, Iz," he greeted, using their familiar shorthand. "Ready to run through the checklist?"

"All set," Izzy responded, her movements precise as she began to inspect their medical supplies. A subtle tension beneath her surface suggested something more than a routine shift awaited her.

The morning briefing would start soon in the station's common area. Another day of potential emergencies, another opportunity to serve - though service meant something different to her now than it had before.

As Izzy and Jerome worked through their equipment checklist, other EMTs and paramedics filtered into the station. The air filled with the quiet murmur of conversations, the clink of coffee mugs, and the rustle of uniforms.

"Alright, people, gather 'round," called out Samantha Chen, the shift supervisor. Her voice carried the weight of authority tempered by years of field experience. The room quieted as the team assembled for the morning briefing.

Izzy took her place among her colleagues, her posture alert, eyes focused. Years of intense training had honed her senses to a razor's edge. She noted the slight tension in a rookie's shoulders, the barely perceptible nod between two seasoned paramedics - details that might escape a less observant eye.

"We've got potential for a busy day," Samantha began, her gaze sweeping across the assembled team. "Seattle PD has informed us of planned protests downtown. Coupled with the usual morning rush, we need to be prepared for anything."

As Samantha ran through the day's assignments and potential hotspots, Izzy felt a familiar tension building within her. The sword's presence was a quiet weight, dormant but ever-present. Its power lay largely inactive while contained, but Izzy knew she could rely on her own formidable skills honed through years of practice and experience.

Jerome leaned in slightly. "You look ready for anything," he whispered, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Izzy nodded, her focus unwavering. "Always," she replied softly.

The briefing concluded, and the teams dispersed to their assigned rigs. Izzy and Jerome climbed into their ambulance, settling into their seats as Jerome started the engine.

As they pulled out of the station, the radio came to life with the day's first calls:

"Unit 23, respond to a minor MVA on I-5 southbound, near exit 165."

"Unit 12, we've got a fall victim at the Sheraton, 6th Avenue."

"Unit 8, assist Seattle PD with a welfare check, Yesler Terrace."

Jerome navigated through the increasing morning traffic, while Izzy monitored the MDT. The city was waking up around them, each neighborhood presenting its own potential challenges.

As the radio chatter filled the cab with a steady stream of assignments, Izzy and Jerome settled into their routine. Jerome navigated the morning traffic with practiced ease, while Izzy's eyes alternated between the MDT and the passing cityscape.

"Looks like the protest downtown is already drawing a crowd," Jerome commented, nodding towards a group of people with signs gathering near City Hall.

Izzy hummed in agreement. "Could get dicey later. We should keep an eye on it."

They passed a fender bender, another ambulance already on scene. Jerome shook his head. "Tuesday morning and people are already having a day."

"Speaking of," Izzy said, reaching for the thermos between them. "Did you remember to fill this?"

Jerome grinned. "Extra strong, just how you like it. You can thank me later."

Izzy took a sip and nodded appreciatively. As they turned onto First Avenue, the familiar sights and sounds of Pike Place Market came into view. Street vendors were setting up their stalls, the first tourists of the day already milling about.

"Remember that call we had here last month?" Jerome asked. "The guy who thought he was having a heart attack but just ate too many ghost pepper samples?"

Izzy couldn't help but chuckle. "How could I forget? My eyes were watering just being near him."

Their banter was interrupted by the radio crackling to life with their assignment. As Jerome flicked on the sirens and accelerated towards their destination, Izzy's demeanor shifted, her focus sharpening on the task at hand.

As they turned onto First Avenue, the familiar sights and sounds of Pike Place Market came into view. Street vendors were setting up their stalls, the first tourists of the day already milling about.

"Remember that call we had here last month?" Jerome asked. "The guy who thought he was having a heart attack but just ate too many ghost pepper samples?"

Izzy blinked, momentarily disoriented. For her, that call felt like a lifetime ago - because it was. She struggled to recall the specific incident Jerome was referencing.

"Right," she said, covering her lapse with a nod. "That was... quite a case."

Jerome glanced at her, a slight furrow in his brow. "You okay, rookie? You seem a bit off today."

The term 'rookie' stung more than Izzy cared to admit. She had years - subjective decades - of intense experience under her belt now. But here, in this ambulance, she was still the new kid on the block.

"I'm fine," she assured him, her voice steady. "Just focused on what's ahead."

Nearly twenty minutes into their shift, their unit was finally called:

"Unit 17, we've got a code 3 response needed at Pike Place Market. Possible cardiac event."

"Unit 17 responding," Izzy replied, her voice steady and professional.

Jerome flicked on the lights and sirens, and the ambulance accelerated, weaving through traffic. As they sped towards Pike Place, Izzy's mind sharpened, focusing on the task ahead.

As they approached Pike Place Market, the morning crowd was already in full swing. Tourists and locals alike filled the walkways, creating a maze of activity that Jerome had to carefully navigate.

"Dispatch said possible cardiac event," Izzy noted, her mind running through protocols. "Any additional info on the patient?"

Jerome shook his head. "Nothing yet. We'll know more when we get there."

They pulled up to the market's main entrance, where a small crowd had gathered. A police officer was already on scene, waving them over to a spot where they could park.

"Showtime," Jerome said, putting the ambulance in park. "Ready to take point on this one, Iz?"

Izzy nodded, her hand already on the door handle. "Absolutely," she replied, a hint of determination in her voice.

As they exited the vehicle and grabbed their equipment, Izzy felt a familiar surge of adrenaline. The circumstances might be different, but the core of her job remained the same: help those in need, no matter the situation.

The police officer approached them as they unloaded their gear. "Victim's over here," he said, gesturing towards a cluster of people near one of the market's iconic neon signs. "Male, mid-sixties, collapsed about ten minutes ago. A bystander's been performing CPR."

Izzy took the lead, moving swiftly towards the scene with Jerome close behind. As they approached, she began assessing the situation, her trained eye taking in every detail.

"Sir, we're taking over now," Izzy announced clearly to the bystander performing CPR. She knelt beside the patient, her movements fluid and confident. "Jerome, set up the AED. I'll continue compressions."

As Jerome prepared the equipment, Izzy seamlessly took over chest compressions, her rhythm steady and precise. Her mind raced through the advanced cardiac life support protocols, years of experience guiding her actions despite her official 'rookie' status.

"What's your name?" she asked the breathless bystander who had been performing CPR.

"Tom," he panted, clearly exhausted from his efforts.

"Thank you, Tom. You did great. Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

As Izzy continued compressions, her enhanced senses provided her with a wealth of information. Her fingertips detected subtle variations in the patient's chest wall resistance, giving her insights into his cardiac condition that would typically require advanced diagnostic equipment.

"Jerome, I'm sensing significant myocardial stiffness," she said, her voice low and steady. "Possible long-term hypertension. Let's be prepared for potential complications."

Tom, still catching his breath, began to explain. "He was... looking at the fish... then just collapsed. No warning."

Izzy nodded, processing the information while maintaining perfect rhythm. Her stamina, slightly above normal, allowed her to continue compressions without fatigue.

"AED ready," Jerome announced, quickly cutting open the patient's shirt with trauma shears and wiping the chest dry.

Izzy smoothly transitioned to allow Jerome to place the adhesive pads on the patient's bare chest. Her keen senses picked up subtle signs about the patient's condition that others might miss.

"Clear," Izzy commanded as Jerome activated the AED to analyze.

They waited for the AED's assessment, Izzy's trained eye on the patient and the device.

The AED advised a shock. "Shock advised. Stand clear," the automated voice announced.

"Shocking now," Izzy stated firmly, ensuring everyone was clear before delivering the shock.

After the shock, Izzy immediately resumed compressions while Jerome prepared for potential additional interventions.

"Tom," Izzy addressed the bystander between compressions, "did you notice anything else before he collapsed? Any complaints of pain or discomfort?"

As Tom provided additional information, Izzy and Jerome continued their well-practiced routine, working efficiently to provide the best possible care.

"Jerome, let's get him on the stretcher," Izzy said after completing another cycle of CPR. "We need to move."

They swiftly transferred the patient onto the stretcher, Izzy maintaining compressions throughout the move. As they wheeled him towards the ambulance, Izzy's mind was focused solely on the immediate tasks at hand - continuing treatment, monitoring vitals, and preparing for rapid transport to the hospital.

As they loaded the patient into the ambulance, Izzy smoothly transitioned to the onboard equipment, never breaking the rhythm of compressions. Jerome swung into the driver's seat, activating lights and sirens.

"Harborview, five minutes out," Jerome called back, navigating through traffic with practiced urgency.

Izzy maintained her focus, continuing CPR while monitoring the patient's condition. Her enhanced senses allowed her to detect subtle changes that might have eluded others, but she kept her observations within the realm of standard EMT practice.

"Vitals holding steady," she reported as they neared the hospital. "No change in responsiveness."

The ambulance pulled into Harborview's emergency bay. As the doors swung open, Izzy was already rattling off the patient's status to the waiting trauma team.

"Male, mid-sixties, cardiac arrest at Pike Place Market. Bystander CPR initiated, we've administered two shocks via AED. Total down time approximately 25 minutes."

The handoff was swift and efficient. As the hospital staff took over, Izzy stepped back, her mind already reviewing the call, analyzing her performance, considering what else she might have done.

"Nice work," Jerome said as they walked back to the rig. "You handled that like a pro."

Izzy nodded, allowing herself a small smile. "Thanks. Let's get ready for the next one."

As they began restocking their supplies, Izzy's mind was already preparing for the next call, her focus unwavering.

Jerome glanced at his watch. "Hey, we've got a few minutes. Let's do a quick debrief and then take a short break. I'll call it in."

Izzy nodded, appreciating the moment to reset. After a brief discussion about the call, Jerome stepped away to update dispatch on their status.

Finding herself with a rare quiet moment, Izzy scrolled through the notifications on her phone. She was grateful she had replaced her phone before returning to work. The familiar interface was a small comfort in a world that now felt subtly off-kilter.

The first link was a Facebook post about a new coffee shop opening near her old apartment. The second, an article about upcoming road work that might affect her commute. She smiled at a cute cat video her friend had shared from Instagram.

Then she tapped on a TikTok link. As the video began to play, Izzy's eyes widened slightly. The figure moving with impossible speed and grace was unmistakable. Nathan. Her grip on the phone tightened imperceptibly as she realized the potential implications of this viral post.

A twinge of annoyance hit her as she remembered the communicator from Alex, sitting uselessly in her apartment. She made a mental note to contact the others as soon as her shift ended. This situation needed to be addressed quickly.

"Break's almost up," Jerome called, walking back towards the ambulance. "Ready to hit the road again?"

Izzy locked her phone, pushing her concerns to the back of her mind. "Ready," she replied, refocusing on the task at hand. The challenges of her other life would have to wait. For now, she had a job to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The familiar click of the lock welcomed her home as she entered the apartment, the day's long shift weighing on her shoulders. Moving through the space with practiced ease, she noted how quickly her routine had re-established itself after just a few days back.

Shedding her uniform, she padded barefoot across the cool hardwood floor, goosebumps rising on her skin in the AC's chill. She slipped into a worn Seattle Sounders t-shirt and comfortable joggers, the soft fabric a relief after hours in her work clothes.

The faint scent of yesterday's coffee lingered in the air as she made her way to the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, its smooth surface cool against her palms, she retrieved the communicator from the drawer. The device's sleek design and advanced technology contrasted sharply with the homey surroundings.

Her fingers moved with practiced familiarity over the interface as she keyed in the sequence to contact Alex. After a brief pause, his voice came through, clear and focused.

"Izzy? We've been wondering how you're doing. Glad you got a hold of us. What's up?"

"Hey Alex," she replied, her voice carrying a mix of fatigue and alertness. "Sorry for the radio silence. Been readjusting to the job. How's everyone holding up?"

"We're managing," Alex's voice came through, a hint of relief evident in his tone. "Hazel's been monitoring for any unusual activity. Speaking of which, have you seen anything... out of the ordinary?"

Her mind flashed to the TikTok video of Nathan. "Actually, yes. There's something you should know about Nathan..."

As she began to recount what she had seen, her free hand absently traced the outline of the folding knife secured at her hip - a habit she hadn't shaken since before their return.

"It's about Nathan," Izzy continued, moving away from the counter to look out her window at the city lights. "I saw the TikTok video during my break today."

"We know," Alex replied. "Hazel's been tracking it since it first went up. We're still trying to understand what this means - we don't really know his usual patterns."

Izzy frowned, remembering how little they actually knew about Nathan's time with their captors. "Have you been able to contact Zoe? She might have better insight into his state of mind."

"Not yet," Alex's tone was measured. "She's been... elusive since we got back. Like Nathan, she seems to be processing things in her own way."

"The video though," Izzy pressed, "it's not just about Nathan being spotted. It's about what it might mean for all of us. If he's this visible..."

"Exactly why we need to meet," Alex cut in. "There's too much we don't know about what they went through, and now this public exposure... we need to get ahead of it."

"Actually," Izzy said, glancing at her watch, "I'm done for the day now. If you're set up already, I could come tonight."

"Even better," Alex replied, and she could hear the subtle shift in his tone - the one that meant plans were falling into place. "Give us an hour to finish the security sweep. I'll send you the coordinates."

"An hour," she confirmed, already mentally mapping her route across the city. "I'll grab something to eat and head over. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. And Izzy..." There was a pause. "You might want to see what Hazel's put together here. It's... different from what we had before."

The communicator chimed softly - coordinates appearing on its display. Izzy studied the location, her eyebrows rising slightly. It wasn't an area of Seattle she would have expected.

"I'll be there," she said, already moving to change into something more suitable for evening movement through the city. "And Alex? Thanks for keeping watch while I got settled back in."

After a quick shower and change into dark, practical clothing, Izzy headed down to her apartment complex's parking garage. Her Civic sat exactly where she'd left it this morning after her shift. The familiar car was nothing special, but it was reliable and inconspicuous - perfect for both her EMT work and her other activities.

The evening traffic had thinned out as she made her way through Seattle's streets towards Alex's property. She knew the route well from countless staff meetings and expedition planning sessions, though everything felt different now.

She pulled into the expansive gravel lot between Alex's house and the large equipment building. The converted barn structure loomed in the evening light, its 120-foot length a familiar sight from her days helping prep for expeditions. Even now, she could picture the upper level where team members would sometimes stay before major trips.

As she made her way to the building's entrance, she noted the new security measures subtly integrated into the familiar structure. Things she might have overlooked before now stood out clearly to her trained senses.

The door slid open automatically as she approached. Inside, the familiar layout of Alex's workspace greeted her - the ground floor split between vehicle maintenance and equipment storage, with chain hoists and rails running overhead. The standard 20-foot ceiling and organized shelving gave it the professional feel of a well-maintained repair shop, though now that organization was temporarily disrupted by their recent additions. New technology sat atop workbenches, cables running across surfaces rather than through them, and holographic interfaces were mounted on temporary stands. The whole space had the feel of a work in progress, their modifications still finding their place among the existing infrastructure.

"Quite a change from our old planning sessions, isn't it?" Alex said from near a workbench where various pieces of equipment were laid out. Hazel worked quietly at a holographic interface nearby, her fingers moving with practiced precision through data streams.

The perimeter alarm chimed softly, its tone distinct from a security breach. Hazel glanced up from her holographic interface, quickly checking the external feeds.

"Mrs. Henderson," she announced, her tone carrying a hint of resignation. Through the security feed, they could see their neighbor making her way along the property line, clipboard in hand and reading glasses perched on her nose.

Alex sighed. "Right on schedule. Tuesday evening inspections."

"Should I-" Izzy started to offer, but Alex shook his head.

"Best if I handle this. She's been particularly... attentive since we got back." He moved towards the entrance, pausing only briefly. "Hazel, might want to minimize some of our more interesting modifications for a few minutes."

As Alex stepped out to intercept Mrs. Henderson, they could hear her voice carrying clearly through the evening air.

"Alex! I was just noting that your auxiliary building's exterior lighting seems to have been modified. The HOA guidelines clearly state that all external modifications must be submitted for approval at least two weeks in advance of any changes..."

Izzy and Hazel watched through the security feed as Mrs. Henderson gestured animatedly with her clipboard, Alex's posture remaining calm and professional.

"She was out here with her binoculars when Rose was working on the lights," Hazel said quietly, her fingers still moving across the holographic interface, minimizing certain displays. "Probably thought she finally had something concrete to report."

Through the feed, they could hear Mrs. Henderson's voice growing more insistent. "I distinctly saw people tampering with the fixtures just yesterday. These modifications need to go through proper channels, Alex."

"I told her everything was internal maintenance," Hazel added, a slight edge of amusement in her tone. "She didn't like that answer."

Izzy watched as Alex gestured to one of the unmodified lights, his body language suggesting he was walking Mrs. Henderson through some kind of explanation. "Does she do this often?"

"Twice a week, minimum," Hazel replied, her attention split between the security feed and her work. "She's been trying to find violations since Alex first built this place. The lighting is just her latest excuse."

They could see Mrs. Henderson's shoulders stiffen as Alex presumably explained, once again, that internal maintenance didn't require HOA approval. Her clipboard lowered slightly, but her expression remained determined.

Through the feed, they watched as Mrs. Henderson's posture shifted from righteous indignation to reluctant acceptance. Her clipboard lowered completely as headlights swept across the driveway.

"Marcus," Izzy said, suddenly tensing as she recognized the dark blue Tacoma with its bed rack loaded with outdoor gear. The realization hit her like a physical force - for Marcus, their last expedition planning session had been just two weeks ago. For her, it felt like another lifetime.

They watched as Marcus stepped out, his red-and-black fleece vest visible in the evening light. His arrival seemed to deflate Mrs. Henderson's remaining momentum as he approached.

"Mrs. Henderson," his clear, carrying voice came through the feed. "Lovely evening for a walk. I was hoping to catch Alex - we need to review some equipment for next week's student expedition."

Alex moved quickly to intercept both of them, stepping outside and pulling the door firmly closed behind him. Through the feed, they could see Marcus's slight frown of confusion as Alex guided him away from the building entrance.

"I forgot about the expedition," Izzy said quietly, the weight of her displaced timeline heavy in her voice. "It's been so long for us, but for Marcus..."

They could see Marcus gesturing toward the building, his teaching background evident in his clear, explanatory gestures. Alex's posture remained apologetic but firm, clearly trying to keep the conversation in the driveway.

Through the enhanced feeds, Marcus's voice came through with perfect clarity. "Alex, what's going on? Izzy's car is right there, and we need to check the gear for next week. The students have been preparing for months."

"I know, I know," Alex's voice carried that careful tone he used for difficult conversations. "Listen, Marcus, about the expedition..."

"You never checked in after your last trip," Marcus pressed, his educator's patience tinged with concern. "No response to calls or texts. That's not like you, Alex. And now you won't let me in to check the equipment? The school board's been asking about the expedition permits."

Inside, Izzy winced. The timeline disconnect hit her again - what felt like years of combat and survival for her had been just a few unanswered messages for Marcus.

"He's not going to let this go easily," Hazel observed quietly, watching Marcus's body language through multiple sensor feeds. "Too many inconsistencies for someone that methodical."

They could see Alex struggling to maintain the barrier between worlds - trying to protect Marcus from knowledge that could put him at risk while also preserving a long-standing professional relationship.

"The gear check can wait," Alex was saying, but Marcus cut him off.

"Alex, I've got twenty-three students counting on this expedition. If something's wrong, I need to know now."

The tension in Marcus's stance was evident on every spectrum of their monitoring systems - years of working together had made him attuned to when something was seriously wrong. Before Alex could respond, the door opened behind them.

"Alex," Izzy said firmly, stepping outside. "We should tell them. Marcus and Elena both." She met his gaze steadily, her tone carrying the weight of their shared experiences. "It'll be easier than trying to shut everything down without explanation."

Marcus's eyes snapped to Izzy, his analytical mind already cataloging the subtle differences in her bearing, her way of moving. Then his gaze shifted back to Alex, really looking at his friend for the first time since arriving.

The evening light caught Alex's neck just wrong, highlighting the faint metallic seams that his collar usually concealed. Marcus's expression shifted from concern to focused observation, his teacher's mind processing details he might have otherwise dismissed - the too-precise way Alex moved, the subtle reflections that shouldn't be there under his sleeves.

"Alex," Marcus said slowly, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "What happened to you?"

Inside, Hazel's fingers paused over the holographic interface, watching the scene unfold through multiple spectrums of sensor data.

Alex was quiet for a long moment, his enhanced systems registering Marcus's elevated heart rate, the slight dilation of his pupils, the way his weight had shifted almost imperceptibly into a more stable stance - all the tiny tells of a man preparing himself for something momentous.

"We went somewhere, Marcus," Alex finally said, his voice carrying a weight that made the simple words feel heavy with meaning. "Somewhen. It's... hard to explain." He glanced at Izzy, then back to his friend and employee. "You deserve an explanation, both you and Elena. Let's get her over here too - this isn't something I want to keep going over."

The implications hung in the cooling evening air as the sun's last rays caught the metallic seams at Alex's neck one final time before darkness settled in.

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

End Chapter!

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The September sun beat down on Ethan's back as he lounged in Jordan's backyard, a half-empty can of soda warming beside him. It was one of those lazy weekend afternoons where time seemed to stretch endlessly, a welcome break from the first few weeks of their senior year that had already proven to be more demanding than expected.

"So I've been thinking about our D&D campaign," Ethan said, flipping through a dog-eared Player's Handbook. "Maybe we should restart with new characters instead of picking up where we left off last time. That dungeon was a total party killer."

Jordan didn't respond. He was checking his watch for the third time in as many minutes, clearly distracted.

"Dude, are you even listening?" Ethan tossed a bottle cap at his friend.

"Sorry," Jordan said, looking up. "I've been working on something. Actually, I wanted to show you." He hesitated, then added with poorly concealed excitement, "It's pretty cool. In the shed."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. Jordan had always been into building things—custom computer rigs, modified Nerf guns, elaborate Halloween props—but lately, he'd been weirdly secretive about his projects.

"In the shed? That tiny thing can barely fit a lawnmower."

"Just come on," Jordan said, already standing up.

Curious despite his skepticism, Ethan followed his friend across the yard to the weathered garden shed. Jordan unlocked the padlock and pushed open the door. Inside was exactly what Ethan expected: garden tools hanging on the walls, a lawnmower in the corner, bags of fertilizer stacked against one wall.

But then Jordan pushed aside a false panel in the floor, revealing a steep staircase descending into darkness.

"What the hell, man? When did you build an underground lair?"

Jordan grinned. "My dad's always working late, and I needed more space. Started digging last spring. Pretty cool, right?"

"Pretty illegal, probably," Ethan muttered, but he followed Jordan down the stairs anyway.

The underground workshop was surprisingly large—maybe fifteen feet square with a low ceiling reinforced with wooden beams. The space was cluttered with half-assembled electronics, tools scattered across workbenches, and what looked like computer servers humming in one corner. The air smelled of solder and ozone.

"Dude, this is insane," Ethan said, genuinely impressed despite his concerns. "You built all this yourself?"

"Yeah. I've been getting these... ideas. Like, I can just see how things should fit together." Jordan's eyes lit up as he talked. "It's like the schematics appear in my head fully formed. I just have to build them."

Ethan nodded slowly, taking it all in. This wasn't just Jordan's usual tinkering. The complexity of the equipment, the detailed diagrams pinned to the walls—this was beyond high school hobbyist level.

"So what did you want to show me?" Ethan asked.

Jordan's excitement visibly increased. "That," he said, pointing to the far wall.

Ethan turned and noticed for the first time the massive contraption that dominated the back of the room. It looked like some kind of sci-fi movie prop—a jumble of computer parts, strange crystalline structures that glowed faintly, and at its center, what appeared to be a transparent cylinder large enough for a person to stand in.

"What is it supposed to be?" Ethan asked, approaching cautiously.

Jordan followed, practically bouncing with excitement. "I'm calling it the Quantum Image Replicator. QIR for short."

"That doesn't tell me what it does."

"It creates things," Jordan said, his voice dropping to a reverent near-whisper. "Real things. From images. Watch."

He moved to one of several small pedestals connected to the main apparatus by colorful cables. On each pedestal sat what looked like action figures or small statues. Ethan realized with mild embarrassment that they were anime figurines—including several characters he recognized from shows they'd binged during previous summer breaks.

"You've got to be kidding me," Ethan said as the realization dawned. "You're trying to build a girlfriend?"

Jordan had the decency to look slightly chagrined. "Not just any girlfriend. The perfect girlfriend."

"Based on... anime characters?" Ethan couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice.

"They're just reference models," Jordan said defensively. "The machine scans them to create a three-dimensional template, then combines attributes to generate the ideal form."

Ethan stared at his friend. "You can't just... build a girlfriend, Jordan. That's not how anything works."

"I can if I have the right equipment," Jordan insisted. "And look, I know it sounds crazy, but I've tested it on smaller stuff." He gestured to a nearby shelf where several objects sat—a perfectly formed glass orb, what looked like a miniature tree complete with tiny leaves, and something that appeared to be a small moving clockwork mechanism.

Ethan had to admit, the craftsmanship was impressive. But there was a world of difference between making small objects and creating a living person.

"Even if this thing works—which I seriously doubt—it would be wrong, man. You can't just create a person."

Jordan waved away the concern. "I'm not creating consciousness or anything. Just... you know, a form. The rest is just biochemistry."

"Just biochemistry," Ethan repeated flatly. "You're talking about building a sex doll with extra steps."

"It's not like that!" Jordan protested, though his reddening face suggested Ethan had hit uncomfortably close to the mark. "Look, I just need help calibrating the final sequence. Then you'll see."

Against his better judgment, Ethan found himself curious. Part of him wanted to see if the machine would do anything at all, while another part wanted to be there when it inevitably failed so he could talk Jordan out of this bizarre obsession.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked reluctantly.

Jordan's face brightened. "Just hold these two components together while I initiate the sequence," he said, pointing to two metal rods protruding from the side of the device. "They need to be perfectly aligned, and I can't reach them while I'm at the controls."

It seemed simple enough. Ethan positioned himself by the metal rods while Jordan moved to a keyboard and monitor setup on the adjacent workbench.

"Ready?" Jordan asked, fingers poised over the keyboard.

"I guess," Ethan replied, still not convinced this was anything more than an elaborate science project destined for failure.

Jordan began typing, and the machine hummed to life. Lights flickered across its surface, and the crystals embedded throughout began to glow more intensely. The anime figurines on their pedestals were bathed in scanning light, rotating slowly as data was collected.

"Everything's nominal," Jordan called out. "Keep those conductors aligned!"

Ethan held the metal rods steady, feeling a slight vibration through them. The machine's hum deepened to a low throb that he could feel in his chest.

"Is it supposed to be this loud?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard.

Jordan didn't answer, too focused on the readouts flashing across his monitor. His expression shifted from excitement to confusion.

"That's weird," he muttered. "The energy readings are spiking. The pattern recognition algorithm is—"

A sharp crack interrupted him as one of the crystals in the machine fractured. Sparks erupted from a nearby junction box.

"Something's wrong," Jordan said, his earlier confidence evaporating. "The feedback loop is—"

"Should I let go?" Ethan called out, but it was too late.

The machine's vibration intensified, and the metal rods in Ethan's hands suddenly grew hot—not enough to burn, but uncomfortable enough that he instinctively tried to pull away. To his horror, he found he couldn't. His hands were locked in place as if magnetized to the rods.

"Jordan!" he shouted in alarm.

Jordan was frantically typing commands, but the machine wasn't responding. "I can't shut it down!" he called back, panic edging into his voice. "The failsafes aren't—"

Before he could finish, the central cylinder lit up with blinding intensity. Ethan felt a sudden powerful pull, and in a disorienting moment, he was no longer standing next to the machine but inside the transparent cylinder.

Everything happened at once. The air around him seemed to liquefy, filled with swirling patterns of light. His skin tingled painfully as if every cell in his body was being systematically unraveled and rewoven. He tried to scream, but no sound emerged.

Through the transparent walls, he could see Jordan shouting something, frantically working at the controls, but the sound was muffled to nothing. The workshop around him began to blur as the pain intensified.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. The light faded, and Ethan collapsed to his knees inside the cylinder, disoriented and nauseous. The door slid open automatically, and cool air rushed in, carrying the acrid smell of burned electronics.

"Ethan! Are you okay?" Jordan's voice seemed to come from far away.

Ethan tried to respond, but his voice felt strange in his throat. Higher, softer. He coughed and tried again. "What... happened?"

Even those two words told him something was terribly wrong. That wasn't his voice.

He looked down at his hands, and a wave of disbelief washed over him. They were smaller, more delicate, with longer fingers and smooth skin. And beyond them...

Ethan scrambled to his feet, a wave of dizziness almost sending him back down. His body felt wrong—the balance was off, the proportions altered. And there were unmistakable new contours beneath his now-loose t-shirt.

"What did you do to me?" he demanded, the unfamiliar voice rising in panic.

Jordan stood frozen, staring at him with an expression of shock that gradually morphed into something else—fascination? Awe? His mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to speak.

"The reference models," he said weakly, gesturing toward the anime figurines. "The machine must have... I didn't think it would actually..."

A particularly prominent figurine caught Ethan's eye—a red-haired female character from an anime they'd watched together last summer. The recognition hit him like a physical blow.

"Ranma?" he asked incredulously, voice shaking. "Your perfect girlfriend template was RANMA? The character who switches between male and female forms? Are you kidding me?"

"I didn't... I mean, she wasn't the only reference model," Jordan stammered. "The machine was supposed to sample multiple attributes and create an ideal composite, not just copy one character. I don't understand what went wrong."

Ethan stumbled to a small mirror hanging on the workshop wall and found himself staring at a stranger. The face looking back at him was undeniably feminine—delicate features, big blue eyes, and long red hair flowing past his shoulders. Her shoulders.

"Change me back," Ethan said, turning to face Jordan, voice dangerously quiet. "Now."

Jordan's expression shifted from shock to distress. "I... I don't know how. The machine wasn't supposed to do this. It wasn't designed for... transforming people."

"You built this thing!" Ethan shouted, the strange new voice cracking with emotion. "If you can build it, you can reverse it!"

"I'll try," Jordan promised, his own voice shaking. "I'll figure it out. I just need time to understand what happened."

"Time?" Ethan repeated incredulously. "What am I supposed to do in the meantime? Go home like this? What about school? Tell my parents their son is now their daughter because my best friend was trying to build himself an anime girlfriend?"

As he spoke, his anger and panic built. The air around him seemed to shimmer faintly, though neither boy noticed.

"Look, you can stay here," Jordan offered desperately. "My dad's on a business trip for the next three days. I'll work non-stop to fix this, I swear."

Ethan ran his hands—these unfamiliar, smaller hands—through his new long hair, trying to think clearly through the panic.

"This is so messed up," he muttered. "You're a freaking pervert, you know that? Building girlfriends in your basement. And now you've turned me into one."

"I didn't mean to—"

"I don't care what you meant!" Ethan shouted, slamming his hand down on a nearby table.

The beaker sitting on the edge of the table vanished with a soft 'pop' sound, reappearing instantly in mid-air across the room before crashing to the floor.

Both boys froze, staring at the shattered glass.

"Did you..." Jordan began.

"No," Ethan said, looking at his hand in confusion. "I didn't touch it. It just..."

They looked at each other, the implication dawning simultaneously.

"The transformation," Jordan said slowly. "It must have done more than change your appearance. It gave you... powers."

Ethan closed his eyes, struggling to process this new development on top of everything else. "Fix this, Jordan," he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. "Find a way to change me back. Because if you don't..." He left the threat unfinished, too overwhelmed to even articulate what he might do.

Jordan nodded rapidly. "I will. I promise. Whatever it takes."

As Ethan turned away, he caught his reflection again in the mirror—a stranger's face looking back at him with his own eyes, holding his own fear and anger. Whatever Jordan had done, whatever this machine had changed, Ethan knew with grim certainty that nothing would ever be the same.

What neither of them realized then was that in less than two weeks, they would both be enrolled at Whateley Academy, a school they'd never heard of, leaving behind the shambles of their normal lives.

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

End of Chapter 01.5

Hey All!

SO, this is 2 big things for me.

My First attempt at the wonderful Whateley Academy Universe!
AND
My First Contest Entry!

There will be 10 chapters in total for my entry plus 3 flashback chapters.
I will release them daily or so (so as not to overwhelm the front page)

Likely I will be continuing this series, and no my other series are not on pause. I did slow down on them just a little bit while I go this one pounded out. But they are not put to the side.

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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!
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Also, feel free to PM me if you have any questions or wanna comment.

TTFN Everyone.

"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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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!

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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.

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!!!

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

https://discord.gg/NYjPU3auVy(link is external)(link is external)(link is external)

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.

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.

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

https://discord.gg/NYjPU3auVy(link is external)(link is external)

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)

Also, feel free to PM me if you have any questions or wanna comment.

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.

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

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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.

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

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Morning mist clung to the Appalachian slopes as Leopa Riverlight led her small team up the mountain trail, her thoughts drifting to the conversation she'd had with her grandmother just days before. "The mountains are stirring," the elder had said, her weathered hands working dried herbs into Leopa's medicine pouch. "They remember the old ways, even when we forget." Now, watching the early autumn air carry hints of winter's approach through gaps in the ancient pines, Leopa found herself paying extra attention to every whisper of wind, every subtle change in the forest's rhythm.

Her moccasins moved silently over the rough terrain, each step placed with the practiced precision of someone who had spent decades learning the mountain's secrets. Unlike her colleagues who preferred standard-issue boots, Leopa insisted on traditional footwear—a choice that had earned her both respect and quiet skepticism from fellow rangers. But she knew what her grandmother knew: you couldn't truly feel the mountain's pulse through rubber soles. Standard patrol duty wasn't exactly glamorous work, but Leopa had learned long ago that the most extraordinary discoveries often came during routine sweeps, especially when you stayed connected to the old ways.

Behind her, Jenna fumbled with her pack's straps for the third time that morning, muttering under her breath about "ridiculous traditional equipment requirements." Fresh out of training, she had the enthusiasm of a new recruit but lacked the seasoned ranger's instinct for mountain terrain. Her boots caught on exposed roots, and each misstep earned a gentle but pointed look from Leopa. The older ranger recognized something of herself in Jenna's frustration—she'd been just as resistant to the old ways when she'd started, convinced that modern technology could improve everything. Time in the mountains had a way of changing such certainties.

Hamil, only a few months more experienced, at least managed to keep his footing on the rough path, though his labored breathing suggested he was still building up his hiking stamina. Unlike Jenna, he'd embraced the traditional aspects of their work with almost religious fervor, spending his off-hours studying tribal histories and magical lore. Sometimes his eagerness to prove his respect for the old ways made him overthink things—like the three different protection charms he wore, jangling together with every step.

"You know," Leopa said, pausing to let them catch their breath, "my grandmother used to say that the mountain teaches each ranger differently." She glanced between her two charges, a knowing smile touching her lips. "Some learn through stumbling," she nodded to Jenna, "others through study," she gestured to Hamil's charms. "But in the end, the mountain's lessons sink in, one way or another."

Jenna straightened her pack with a defiant tug. "With all due respect, Ms. Riverlight, I didn't spend four years getting my environmental science degree to—"

"To end up learning from trees and rocks?" Leopa finished, her tone gentle but firm. "That degree of yours is valuable, Jenna. But out here?" She gestured to the misty slopes around them. "Out here, you're walking through libraries older than human writing. The trick is learning to read them."

Hamil's charms clinked together as he hurried to catch up with Leopa, already pulling out his field notebook. "The trail markers should be changing soon," he said, flipping through his meticulous notes. "According to the archives, this elevation traditionally marks the boundary between—"

"Remember," Leopa cut him off gently, "the signs themselves will tell us what we need to know." She gestured at marks on the surrounding trees that most visitors would mistake for natural wear. "The old markers aren't just historical artifacts for you to catalogue, Hamil. They're a living language." She paused beside a particularly weathered oak, its bark bearing symbols that had endured centuries of seasons. "See this? What does it tell you?"

Jenna squinted at the marking, her scientific training kicking in. "The wear pattern suggests it's been regularly maintained, probably within the last—"

"It tells me," Hamil interrupted eagerly, "that we're entering territory that's historically been home to more... interesting residents. The curved line here represents—"

"Both of you," Leopa said, touching the ancient marking with practiced fingers, "are thinking too much with your training and not enough with your instincts. These marks aren't just information—they're warnings, welcomes, and wisdom all in one. The tribes that first mapped these mountains knew that some messages need to be felt as much as read."

"Magical creatures?" Jenna asked, her scientific skepticism warring with undeniable curiosity. Her hand instinctively moved to check the protective charms hanging from her belt—standard issue for all Forestry Service personnel, though she'd argued during training that they were an outdated superstition. Now, feeling the ancient power humming through the mountain air, she found herself grateful for their presence.

"Among others," Leopa confirmed, a knowing smile touching her lips as she watched Jenna's subtle shift from skepticism to wonder. Her fingers traced the weathered symbol with practiced ease, feeling the subtle variations that told stories no modern instrument could detect. "You're both looking for your own versions of proof—Jenna with her scientific methods, Hamil with his historical records. But the mountains... they have their own way of proving things." "Leopa spread her arms to encompass the ancient forest around them, her voice taking on the rhythmic cadence her grandmother had used when sharing wisdom. "This entire section of the Appalachians is part of the Northeast Magical Ecological Preserve. Has been since the Treaty of 1832, when the United Colonies finally acknowledged that some places need to be left to their original inhabitants." The morning breeze stirred her dark hair, carrying with it scents that seemed older than human memory.

Jenna pulled out her tablet, fingers moving to pull up the relevant historical data. "The treaty negotiations lasted three years, primarily due to disputes over resource rights and—"

"Put that away," Leopa said firmly, though not unkindly. "The history you need to know right now isn't in any database." She knelt down, pressing her palm against a patch of moss-covered stone. "Feel this. The temperature's wrong, isn't it?"

Hamil immediately dropped to his knees beside her, fumbling with his charms as he reached out. "It's warm! According to the Standard Magical Energy Assessment protocols, we should document the thermal variance and—"

"Just feel it," Leopa interrupted. "Both of you. This is how the old powers remind us they're still here. The ones who were here first, who retreated deeper but never truly left." She watched as Jenna reluctantly set aside her tablet and joined them, her skeptical expression shifting to surprise as she touched the inexplicably warm stone.

"That's... that's not geologically possible," Jenna muttered, her scientific training warring with direct experience. "At this elevation, with these soil conditions—"

"Probably residual energy from a sleeping Stone Dragon," Hamil interjected excitedly, already pulling out his field guide. "They're known to maintain body temperatures well above ambient levels even during dormant periods, and the historical records indicate—"

"Both of you," Leopa said with patient amusement, "are doing it again. Always reaching for your tools, your books, your data." She stood, brushing forest debris from her knees. "Those things have their place. But out here? Out here we need to learn the way my grandmother taught me—through direct experience, through careful observation, through respect for what came before."

They continued their ascent, with Leopa occasionally pointing out signs that most modern rangers would miss: claw marks too precise to be from normal bears, crystalline formations that shouldn't occur naturally at this elevation, subtle changes in the vegetation that suggested magical influence. Each time, Jenna tried to document the phenomena with her instruments, while Hamil consulted his historical records. And each time, Leopa gently encouraged them to first observe, to feel, to understand with their instincts before reaching for their tools.

"The old powers don't care about your degrees or your protocols," she explained as they navigated a particularly steep section. "They were here when these mountains were young, and they'll be here long after our instruments stop working. Our job isn't to study them like specimens in a lab—it's to understand them as neighbors, as the original guardians of these lands."

"But how can we protect the preserve without proper documentation?" Jenna asked, frustration evident in her voice. "The environmental impact studies alone require—"

"And the historical precedents clearly state—" Hamil began simultaneously.

A sharp gesture from Leopa silenced them both. She'd stopped abruptly on the trail, her entire posture shifting from relaxed instruction to alert observation. The morning birds had gone quiet, and there was something different in the way the mist moved between the ancient pines ahead of them.

"Pre-date humanity, in some cases," Leopa corrected, her voice carrying the weight of ancestral knowledge. "We've got Stone Dragons that have been sleeping in these mountains since before the last ice age. Elder Fae who still hold court in hidden valleys. Beings that remember when these peaks were young." She gestured at the dense forest around them, where shafts of early morning light created patterns that seemed almost deliberate. "That's why we can't just march in here like normal park rangers. This isn't just a nature preserve—it's sovereign territory for creatures that could squash us like bugs if they were so inclined."

Jenna's eyes widened, her earlier enthusiasm tempered by this sobering reminder. "But I thought the treaties—"

"The treaties give us right of passage to monitor and protect the preserve," Leopa explained, her tone making it clear this was crucial information. "Nothing more. We're guests here, at best. Tolerated because we help keep the more problematic elements of the modern world from encroaching." She pointed to another marker, this one carved into a massive boulder that seemed to hum with ancient energy. "These mountains have their own rules, their own rhythms. Our job isn't just about checking permits and marking boundaries—it's about understanding and respecting the old agreements. One wrong step, one disrespectful action, and we could find ourselves dealing with beings whose concept of justice hasn't changed since the last millennium."

They continued their ascent, with Leopa occasionally pointing out signs of the mountain's hidden inhabitants: claw marks too precise to be from normal bears, crystalline formations that shouldn't occur naturally at this elevation, subtle changes in the vegetation that suggested magical influence. Her newer team members needed to learn these indicators. The Forestry Service's role had evolved far beyond simple conservation.

The trail narrowed as they approached a relatively flat section of the mountainside, where the ancient pines gave way to a small clearing. Leopa had opened her mouth to explain another marker when something caught her eye. Her hand shot up in the traditional ranger's halt signal—a gesture both Jenna and Hamil had been trained to obey without question.

Before either trainee could speak, Leopa dropped into a crouch, her movements fluid and silent. Her fingers hovered over marks in the soil that seemed to make her grandmother's medicine pouch pulse with warmth against her hip.

"Analysis protocol states we should establish a reference grid first," Jenna began, already reaching for her surveying equipment. "If we map the area in quadrants—"

"The historical records mention similar track patterns in the 1847 Whitaker expedition," Hamil interrupted, frantically flipping through his notebooks. "Though the documentation is somewhat unclear about the exact—"

"Quiet," Leopa commanded softly, not looking up. "Put away your tools. Put away your books. Just look. Really look." Her voice carried an intensity that made both trainees freeze. "Tell me what you see. Not what your training tells you should be here. What your eyes—your instincts—are actually showing you."

Jenna knelt down beside Leopa, her scientific skepticism warring with what her senses were telling her. "The tracks are... wrong," she said slowly. "The depth and distribution suggest something massive, but the soil compression patterns don't match any known species. And these temperature readings..." She held her hand just above one of the impressions. "The residual heat signature is impossible. It defies every environmental physics principle I know."

"Six-point contact pattern," Hamil added, for once speaking from observation rather than his books. "Like the legends of the Earth Dragons, but..." He swallowed hard. "But those are just stories. The last confirmed sighting was over two hundred years ago, and even that's disputed in modern academic circles."

Leopa nodded approvingly at their attempts to see rather than just analyze. Her fingers traced the edge of a particularly clear impression, feeling the lingering warmth that no instrument could properly quantify. "Dragon tracks," she confirmed quietly. "Earth Dragons. And not just one—these markings suggest a full clutch." She stood slowly, her practiced eye taking in the whole pattern of signs around them. "But there's something else..."

She moved a few feet to the side, where another set of tracks interwove with the dragon prints. Here, she didn't need to tell her trainees to look carefully. The implications were clear enough that even their modern training couldn't dismiss what they were seeing.

"Those are humanoid prints," Jenna whispered, her tablet forgotten in her hand. "But that's not possible. The soil compression shows they were made at the same time as the dragon tracks. And there's no sign of disturbance or flight response. They're just... walking together."

"No historical record mentions anything like this," Hamil added, his voice shaking slightly. For once, he wasn't reaching for his notebooks. "Dragons haven't allowed close contact with any civilized races since before the Great Crusades. Even the most respected dragon scholars haven't managed more than distant observations."

Leopa stood in silence for a moment, letting her trainees process what they were seeing. Her grandmother's words echoed in her memory: "The mountains remember the old ways, even when we forget. And sometimes, they choose to remind us."

The implications were staggering. True dragons hadn't allowed close contact with any civilized races since before the Great Crusades of the 1200s. Their retreat from the world of mortals was so complete that even the most skilled diplomats and naturalists had failed to establish meaningful communication. The few documented encounters over the centuries had all ended the same way—with the dragons making it emphatically clear that they wished to be left alone.

Wyverns and lesser drakes served their purposes in the modern world—intelligent enough to be trained for courier routes and cargo transport, but ultimately just clever beasts. True dragons were something else entirely—beings of such profound consciousness and power that the very thought of trying to tame one was as absurd as attempting to domesticate a force of nature.

"We need to investigate further," she decided, straightening up. Her hand unconsciously moved to touch the medicine pouch at her belt—a habit she'd developed when confronting potentially significant situations. "But carefully. If there really is a dragon clutch up there, we can't risk disturbing them."

She turned to her team, her expression serious. "Jenna, I want you to start documenting everything. Measurements, photographs, plaster casts if you can manage them without disturbing the site. Hamil, establish a perimeter and start mapping the track patterns. I'm going to see if I can get a better sense of where they're leading."

Jenna worked with methodical precision despite her excitement, her hands trembling slightly as she unpacked her field kit. The camera clicked rapidly as she documented each track from multiple angles, making sure to include scale markers. "The growth progression is fascinating," she murmured, measuring the distance between sets of prints. "Looking at the stride patterns, these hatchlings have already adapted to the terrain. See how they're compensating for the slope? That suggests they've been here for weeks, maybe longer."

"Got multiple sets here," Hamil called out softly from several yards away, carefully placing marker flags to establish a grid pattern. He'd already sketched out rough positions in his field notebook. "At least four, maybe five distinct track patterns from the dragons. They're moving in formation, almost like..." He paused, double-checking his notes. "Almost like they're escorting the humanoid prints."

Leopa nodded, watching them work while keeping her other senses alert. Out here, sound and scent could tell you as much as sight—sometimes more. The birds were still singing, which meant no immediate threat, but their calls had a different pattern than usual. They knew something extraordinary was in their territory.

"The humanoid prints are unusually clear," Jenna reported, her scientific detachment wavering. "Whoever made them was barefoot, but..." She leaned closer, using a small brush to carefully clean debris from one impression. Her hands stilled. "There are distinct talon marks at the tips of the toes, but the gait and pressure patterns are nothing like goblinoid tracks. These are deliberate, graceful movements. Almost like a human child, but with these strange modifications..." She glanced up at Leopa, unable to fully articulate what her trained eye was seeing.

"If these were goblinoid tracks, we'd be finding blood or signs of aggression," Hamil said, voicing what they were all thinking. "True dragons don't tolerate goblinoid races anywhere near their clutches. They'd kill them on sight."

"The spacing is strange too," he added, consulting his mapping notes with growing bewilderment. "These aren't patrol patterns or hunting formations. Look at how the tracks criss-cross and double back. There are slide marks in the soil, impact points where they've leapt or tumbled." He gestured at a particularly churned-up area. "They were playing—the dragons and whoever this is. Running, chasing, wrestling... like children in a playground."

As her team continued their careful documentation, Leopa stood quietly, a growing unease settling in her stomach. Something was wrong with this picture. In her years as a senior ranger, she'd learned that the most extraordinary findings often came not from what you found, but from what you didn't find. And here, what was missing troubled her more than the unexpected humanoid tracks: there were no adult dragon prints. No parent watching over their clutch.

That was wrong. Deeply, fundamentally wrong. Dragon parents never left their hatchlings unprotected, not until they were fully capable of defending themselves. Even then, at least one adult would remain within range. Yet here were young dragons, clearly still in their early stages of development, playing freely with some unknown humanoid child. The implications sent a chill down her spine.

"Continue your documentation," she instructed her team, her voice low but firm. "I'm going to check the perimeter. If there are adult dragons in the area, there should be clear signs marking their territory." She didn't add that such knowledge might be crucial for their survival if the parents returned to find humans near their young.

"Stay within sight of each other," she added, fixing both trainees with a stern look. "If anything feels wrong—and I mean anything—signal immediately."

Moving silently through the underbrush, Leopa expanded her senses the way her grandmother had taught her. But after twenty minutes of careful observation, her unease only deepened. There were no territorial markers. No massive claw marks on ancient trees. No singed areas or magical wards. Nothing that matched any documented dragon behavior she'd ever encountered or studied.

It made no sense. Dragon parents were fiercely territorial, especially with young hatchlings. There should be obvious signs warning other powerful beings away from their clutch. Instead, she found only the undisturbed forest, as if the dragons had somehow moved through the land without leaving the expected traces of their passage.

Something about this violated everything she thought she knew about dragon behavior. Either their understanding of these ancient beings was fundamentally flawed, or something unprecedented was happening on her mountain.

After a full hour of methodical investigation, Leopa called her team together. They had gathered enough preliminary evidence to know this wasn't something they could handle alone. Dragons—especially dragons with young—weren't a situation for field decisions.

"Pack up," she instructed, her tone making it clear this wasn't up for discussion. "We need to get back to the station and use the message crystals. This is beyond standard protocol." She watched as Jenna carefully stored her plaster casts and Hamil reluctantly rolled up his mapping grid. "The Service needs to know about this immediately, and we need broader authorization before we proceed any further."

The standard field crystals they carried wouldn't be sufficient for something of this magnitude. This kind of discovery required the station's full-power communication array, and probably several hours of detailed reporting to various departments. Leopa could already anticipate the bureaucratic chaos this would cause—dragons hadn't been officially documented in the Northeast Preserve for generations.

As they packed up their equipment, Leopa took one last look at the tracks. Something extraordinary was happening on her mountain, and she had a feeling this was only the beginning.

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

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The morning after the intense memory exchange with the mother dragon left Remi's mind buzzing with lingering sensations. Her bare feet tingled against the cool stone of the clearing, the rough texture grounding her as she processed the overwhelming input from the previous day. "It's like having a brain freeze without the ice cream," she muttered to herself, rubbing her temples.

Sunlight filtered through the ancient pines, casting dappled shadows across the clearing as the parental dragons engaged in what could only be described as an argument—though calling it merely an argument felt like describing a typhoon as a light breeze. The mother dragon's massive form loomed over her mate, her scales catching the morning light in patterns that seemed to ripple with her anger. The father dragon's posture was lower, his head tilted in submission, but there was a stubborn set to his jaw that suggested he wasn't entirely yielding.

Their communication transcended mere roars and growls, though the physical sounds alone were enough to make the ground tremble. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the intensity of their exchange, empathic projections so powerful that Remi had to brace herself against a nearby boulder. Waves of emotion crashed through the clearing like spiritual tsunamis—the mother's fury-disappointment-protection smashing against the father's shame-defiance-devotion.

"Oh god," Remi gasped, pressing her palms against her temples. "It's like being caught between two psychic hurricanes." The empathic backlash made her eyes water, her newly developing senses overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of their exchange. She could catch fragments of meaning through the tempest: the mother's absolute mandate for vigilance, the father's desperate need to prove his worth, layers of personal history that made her head spin.

The mother dragon's tail lashed in frustration, leaving deep furrows in the earth as her emotions manifested physically. PROTECT-CLUTCH-ALWAYS thundered through the clearing, followed by images of potential threats that made Remi's knees weak. The father's response carried flashes of his planned patrols, the magical wards he intended to lay around their territory, his promised awareness of every vibration in the earth.

The argument reached a crescendo as the mother dragon reared up, her full height blocking out the sun. Her mental voice carried centuries of maternal instinct, the weight of generations of dragon wisdom, and an absolute command that brooked no opposition. The message needed no translation: PROTECT-OR-LEAVE.

The father dragon's departure was swift but purposeful—not an escape, but the beginning of a mission. His movement through the earth carried traces of focused intent, leaving behind ripples of emotion that spoke of determination and the desperate need to prove himself worthy of his family's trust.

Left alone with the mother dragon and the clutch of hatchlings, Remi found herself fascinated by the varying levels of empathic development among her siblings. Their mental touches were like finger paintings compared to her more structured attempts—pure emotion without nuance, wants without context, love without complexity.

Days began to blur together as Remi's sensitivity to their communications grew. The father dragon's periodic returns marked the passage of time, each emergence bringing new reports of his vigilance. His patrols formed an expanding web around their territory, magical wards layered with increasing sophistication as he worked to rebuild trust through action rather than promises.

Flint's recovery became a central focus of their daily life. The trauma of his encounter with the predator had left deep emotional scars that manifested in ways Remi was learning to read with growing clarity. His once-boundless curiosity now came tempered with caution, his movements more measured as he relearned how to explore their territory safely.

"You're doing better," Remi would tell him, running her fingers along the ridges of his scales in the way that helped calm his anxiety. She could feel his emotional signature shifting gradually—fear and hesitation slowly giving way to tentative wonder as the days stretched into weeks.

The mother dragon's protective presence remained constant, but her methods of healing proved surprisingly subtle. When Flint's anxiety peaked, she would emit low frequencies that resonated through the earth itself, harmonizing their emotional states in ways that transcended simple comfort. These sessions became a daily ritual, the entire clutch gathering to soak in her calming influence while half-buried in the mineral-rich soil.

By the third week, Remi's understanding of their communication had deepened considerably. Each family member's emotional signature became distinct and readable: Brother's steady protectiveness, Forge's grounded strength, Slate's analytical calm, and Ember's persistent determination. Even the father dragon's distant movements carried clear emotional context—his dedication to their safety evident in every carefully planned patrol route and meticulously maintained ward.

The breakthrough in Remi's own abilities came unexpectedly during one of their quiet afternoons. As her siblings engaged in their earth-sleeping ritual, she felt a sudden shift in her consciousness. The constant background hum of dragon communication crystallized into sharp focus, like a radio finally tuning to the correct frequency.

She could sense the peaceful contentment of her siblings as they absorbed energy from the earth. The mother dragon's watchful presence registered as a warm, steady pulse of protective awareness. Even the distant vibrations of the father dragon's movement through the mountain carried clear emotional context—his profound dedication to their safety now unmistakable.

The mother dragon noticed the change immediately. Her massive head turned toward Remi, those ancient golden eyes studying her with new interest. The empathic probe that followed was gentle but deliberate—a test to see if Remi could receive more complex communications.

*Safe-warm-family-together*, the sentiment flooded Remi's mind with surprising clarity. It wasn't words exactly, but a pure distillation of meaning and emotion. Remi concentrated, trying to project a response: *grateful-happy-learning*. The effort left her slightly dizzy, but the mother dragon's surge of pride confirmed that something had been successfully transmitted.

As the fourth week drew to a close, Remi sat in the afternoon sun, watching her siblings during their earth-sleep. The father dragon's distant patrols thrummed through the ground like a steady heartbeat, his protective wards now a familiar presence in their territory. The mother dragon dozed nearby, her massive form curled around the clearing in her usual protective circle.

The first sign that something was different came through the earth itself. A vibration, quick and playful, rippled through the soil where Flint lay half-buried. Remi felt his emotional signature shift—spark-bright curiosity flaring suddenly into mischief-joy-PLAY that exploded through their empathic connection like fireworks.

"Flint?" Remi barely got the word out before he burst from the ground, scattering dirt and pebbles in all directions. His scales caught the sunlight as he launched himself at her, chirping with an enthusiasm she hadn't heard since before the attack. "Whoa!"

She rolled with the impact, her toughened skin barely registering the rough ground as they tumbled together. Flint's tail swished through the air with excited energy, his whole body vibrating with happiness as he tried to pin her down. The game was on.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be?" Remi laughed, ducking under his playful swipe and darting around his flank. Her fingers found the spot between his scales that always made him squirm, earning an indignant chirp. "Got you!"

The other siblings stirred from their earth-sleep, roused by the commotion. Brother raised his head to check for danger, but quickly relaxed as he recognized the familiar patterns of play. Forge rumbled with approval, while Slate and Ember watched with obvious delight at seeing their brother's return to form.

Flint chased Remi around the clearing, his movements carrying all his old grace and curiosity, but now tempered with a new awareness. When she dove behind a boulder, he didn't blindly follow but circled around, using his restored confidence to think strategically. His joy radiated through their empathic connection, pure and bright and healing.

The mother dragon's consciousness brushed against them both, carrying warm approval and profound relief. Even the father dragon's distant patrolling took on a lighter resonance, his pride in Flint's recovery evident in the way his movements danced through the earth.

Finally, breathless and laughing, Remi found herself pinned beneath Flint's triumphant form. "Okay, okay, you win!" His scales were warm against her skin as he chirped victoriously, his emotional signature blazing with happiness-victory-belonging. This was her brother, truly back at last, his spirit bright and unbroken.

As the evening stars began to appear above the mountain peaks, the family settled into their usual positions. But something had shifted, healed, transformed. The mother dragon's tail curled around them all, while the father dragon's presence resonated through the ground as he maintained his vigilant watch. This was family, Remi realized—not defined by blood or species, but by bonds deeper than any physical form could contain.

And somewhere in the vast consciousness of their extraordinary family, new patterns of understanding were taking root—connections that transcended traditional boundaries, reshaping what it meant to truly communicate, to truly belong.

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

The cool autumn air brought a new awareness to Remi as she knelt by the crystalline pool where they sometimes drank. The seasons had turned since her hatching in early spring, and her reflection showed just how much had changed. Her rust-red hair had grown wild and long over the months, but lately it wasn't providing quite enough coverage for comfort. The body she'd grown accustomed to through spring and summer was changing, developing in ways that made her increasingly conscious of her unclothed state. What had felt natural in the warmer months now felt somehow different as her form continued to mature.

"Oh," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as she stepped back from the water. In the months since hatching, being unclothed had felt as natural as her siblings' scales. But her body was changing in ways that made even simple activities increasingly uncomfortable. The rough-and-tumble play with her siblings that had once been carefree now required careful positioning to protect her developing form. Her chest had become particularly sensitive, making even Brother's affectionate nudges sometimes uncomfortable.

The mother dragon sensed her discomfort, raising her massive head with a questioning rumble. When Remi's physical-discomfort-need rippled through their empathic connection, the great dragon's response was pure bafflement. The concept of needing protection for sensitive areas was so far beyond her understanding - after all, what was more protective than scales? Her mental response seemed to slide right past Remi's situation, like water off those very scales.

Brother, ever protective, moved closer to offer his usual physical comfort. But for the first time, Remi found herself stepping back slightly. "No, it's okay," she said, though her attempted reassurance through their empathic link met with equal incomprehension. Her siblings could sense her physical discomfort but had no framework to understand why their sister suddenly found their usual rough play challenging. To them, her new sensitivity made as much sense as being hurt by a gentle breeze.

She scanned the clearing, mind racing through possibilities. The animal skins from their mother's hunting lay scattered around - remnants of meals that held no significance to the dragons beyond their nutritional value. Her fingers, grown nimble from months of navigating between dragon scales, itched to work with them, though she knew she'd have to figure out the how of it herself.

The mother dragon's consciousness brushed against hers again, this time carrying pure confusion-concern-protection. When Remi focused on the skins, trying to project her intentions, the mother dragon's response was like a mental shrug - complete incomprehension of why her hatchling would fixate on leftover prey remnants. The great dragon could sense Remi's need for something, but the concept of clothing was so alien that it didn't even register as a possibility.

Looking down at her changed form, Remi realized this was a journey she would have to navigate largely on her own. Her dragon family could offer love and protection, but some aspects of her humanity lay beyond their ability to understand. Just as they couldn't comprehend why she wouldn't want to be buried in earth for comfort, they couldn't grasp this new need for covering.

"Thank you," Remi said softly, gathering the skins in her arms. They were still warm from lying in the sun, and her fingers could feel the potential in them. She would need to figure out how to shape them, how to create coverings that would allow her the freedom of movement her life with the dragons required while providing the modesty her developing human form increasingly demanded.

It was strange, she reflected, settling onto a sun-warmed rock. "You know," she said to no one in particular, though Brother's ears perked at her voice, "I never thought I'd have to figure out how to deal with breasts. Like, they're actually kind of uncomfortable when we play-fight now." She shifted position, wincing slightly. "And don't even get me started on the other bits. At least as a guy things were... well, external but manageable. This is completely different territory."

She glanced down at herself, gesturing vaguely at her developing form. "I mean, everything's so sensitive now. And in completely new ways. Wrestling with you guys used to be no big deal, but now I have to be careful about how I land or move." She poked experimentally at a particularly tender spot and grimaced. "Definitely need to figure out some kind of support situation here. And coverage. Like, serious coverage."

Brother tilted his head at her, radiating confusion-concern through their empathic link. "Yeah, I know you don't get it," she told him with a small laugh. "You've got your nice, protective scales. Meanwhile, I'm dealing with all these new soft parts that apparently need their own special protection. Being a girl is way more complicated than I ever realized." She paused, considering. "Though I guess technically everything about being a girl is new to me, isn't it?"

The mother dragon's low rumble carried approval-support-love as Remi began examining the skins, mentally planning how to fashion them into simple garments. Whatever she created would need to be as practical as it was modest—something that could withstand the rough-and-tumble play with her siblings while providing the coverage her growing self-awareness required.

Brother chirped questioningly, head tilted as he watched her handle the skins. Through their empathic link, she tried to explain: *human-need-growing-changing*. His response carried pure acceptance, untainted by the complexity of human social constructs. To him, she was simply Remi, whether clothed or not. His unconditional love helped ease the awkwardness of this transition.

As the morning sun climbed higher, Remi settled into a patch of soft moss, the skins spread before her. This was just another challenge to navigate, another aspect of her extraordinary transformation to explore. She was learning to be something entirely new—why shouldn't that include finding new ways to honor both the dragon and human aspects of her nature?

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

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The clearing had been unnaturally quiet since Father's extended absence. Even Remi's growing sensitivity to earth-vibrations could not trace his movements beyond their usual territory. The mother dragon's restlessness manifested in constant, agitated movements—her massive tail carving fresh furrows into the ground as she maintained her vigilant watch over the clutch.

When the familiar resonance of Father's return finally rippled through the earth, something felt fundamentally different. The vibrations carried a complexity that suggested he was not traveling alone. The mother dragon's head snapped up, her ancient golden eyes fixing on the forest's edge with an intensity that made Remi's breath catch.

The first harbinger of their arrival was a deep rumbling that shook the ancient pine trees. Father bounded into the clearing with a speed that belied his massive form, but it was his companion that commanded absolute attention.

A creature emerged from the treeline that defied everything Remi thought she knew about dragons. Where Father was built for burrowing, with six lean, muscled legs designed for moving through earth, this being was something else entirely. Massive didn't begin to describe it—this was a living landscape, a creature so large it seemed to challenge the very concept of a dragon Remi had come to understand.

Its body was unlike anything she had seen before. Thick, immense limbs more resembled stone pillars than the agile legs of her dragon family. Each movement seemed to defy the very notion of movement—this wasn't a creature that walked so much as it was a piece of terrain that chose to shift. Where her dragon siblings moved with fluid grace, this being moved with a weight that suggested it had forgotten how to be anything other than ancient and immovable.

The surface of its body appeared more like weathered slate and granite than scales. Intricate patterns of slate-gray, deep charcoal, and mottled granite blended together, creating textures that looked chiseled rather than grown. Sharp-edged fragments of granite and smooth slate seemed to cling to its form, as if the mountain itself was reluctant to release this ancient being. When it moved, the ground didn't just tremble—it felt like the earth was holding its breath.

Father's posture changed the moment the massive being entered the clearing. Where he typically moved with confident ease, now he lowered his head in a gesture that spoke of deep respect—perhaps even deference. His scales rippled with a complex emotional signature that Remi had never seen before: reverence mingled with a hint of apprehension.

The mother dragon's reaction was equally profound. Her usual protective stance softened, though her vigilance remained absolute. When the ancient being approached, she shifted slightly, creating space—not in submission, but in a way that suggested acknowledgment of something greater.

A communication passed between them that transcended anything Remi had witnessed before. It wasn't just an exchange of thoughts or emotions, but something deeper—a conversation that seemed to vibrate through the very ground itself. Currents of memory, of shared history, of something ancient and unspoken passed between the three dragons.

Father's movements became almost ritualistic, his entire body language bowing beneath an unspoken hierarchy that seemed older than the mountain itself. Every muscle, every scale spoke of profound submission—not out of weakness, but from a recognition of something primordially powerful. The massive being's response rippled through the clearing—not in words, but in pure intention. Remi could feel the weight of ages in that single interaction, a communication that spoke of things far beyond her current understanding.

The massive being's gaze finally settled on Remi. Its eyes—deep crystalline formations that seemed to contain entire epochs within their depths—fixed upon her with an intensity that suspended time itself. The air grew thick with remembered pain, generations of betrayal and loss radiating from the ancient being's consciousness like heat from an unquenchable forge.

The massive head lowered, moving with a weight that seemed to displace the very air around it. Remi froze as the creature's head drew impossibly close, its crystalline eyes each larger than her entire body. Deep as mountain pools, those eyes were not merely organs of sight but repositories of something far more ancient. Each eye was easily twice her height, ringed with intricate patterns that looked like geological strata frozen in time.

Remi found herself unable to look away, her mind struggling to categorize what she was seeing. This wasn't just another dragon. This was something else entirely—something that seemed to exist between the boundaries of creature and landscape.

Without warning, the creature's consciousness crashed into Remi's mind with the force of an avalanche. This was no gentle, nurturing communication like she had experienced with her dragon family. This was raw, unfiltered history—a torrential flood of ancestral memory that threatened to overwhelm her very sense of self.

The visions were brutal in their clarity:

Dragons in their primordial glory, soaring over landscapes untouched by human ambition. Their forms were as diverse as the world itself—some with wings like stained glass that caught light in impossible prisms, others serpentine and elegant, moving with the fluid grace of living wind. Crystalline dragons bore growths that sparkled like living jewels, while others moved with the solid certainty of walking mountains.

Then came the armies. From the fractured kingdoms of Germany, the militant principalities of France, the expanding territories of England, and the ambitious duchies of Eastern Europe—vessels and legions converged with a singular purpose. Banners of imperial eagles, fleur-de-lis, and royal standards represented not exploration, but systematic extinction. The memory carried sensory details so vivid Remi could smell the acrid gunpowder, hear the clash of metal, feel the heart-wrenching screams of dying dragons across the ancient mountain ranges of the Black Forest, the Alps, the Pyrenees, and the windswept coastal territories of Brittany and Cornwall.

Continental forces advanced with weapons that represented a terrifying technological and magical convergence. Alchemical cannons bore mystical cores that could pierce dragon scales with devastating precision. Enchanted steel-tipped crossbow bolts sought the vulnerabilities in dragon armor with unnatural intelligence. The Royal Drake Hunters—elite units of knights and battle-mages mounted on magically bound griffins and wyverns—coordinated systematic extermination across the mountain kingdoms and primeval forests of Europe.

But resistance emerged from unexpected quarters. The Siberian tribes of Russia, the nomadic peoples of the Central Asian steppes, and the ancient magical lineages of the African kingdoms stood alongside the dragons. They understood that the elimination of these ancient beings would forever diminish the world's magical essence. Shamans from the Evenk and Yakut tribes wove protective spells that momentarily held back the technological onslaught. Warriors of the Tuareg and the hidden mystical societies of Ethiopia risked everything to provide sanctuary.

As European kingdoms systematically drove dragons from their ancestral territories, the remaining dragons began a great migration. They fled across vast oceans—to the hidden mountain ranges of Central Asia, the deep forests of Africa, the remote wilderness of Siberia. These were the homes of their oldest kin, the places where magic still ran deep in the earth and the old ways had never been fully forgotten.

The memory carried images of tremendous, heart-breaking exodus—dragons whose wingspan could eclipse entire valleys, moving in great, mournful formations across continents. Some carried their youngest, their most vulnerable, in protective formations that spoke of a desperate hope for survival.

Yet technology and overwhelming numbers proved insurmountable. Dragons retreated deeper into mountains, into hidden caves and forgotten valleys. Their allies faced parallel persecution—their lands seized, their cultures systematically dismantled.

Treaties were signed—promises made and broken with calculated indifference. Territory was carved up by those who saw the land as a resource to be owned, not a living ecosystem to be respected.

The memories became more fragmented, more painful. Underground chambers where dragon eggs were harvested like mere magical components. Mining operations that tore apart ancient territories with mechanical brutality. Poisoned waters and tainted air that killed dragon young before they could fully emerge into the world.

The final memories were of deliberate retreat—a collective decision by the remaining dragons to withdraw almost completely from human interaction. They pulled their magic deeper into the earth, concealed their remaining young in secret sanctuaries, choosing isolation over potential extinction.

The pain of this choice radiated through the memory like a physical wound. Dragons were not meant for isolation. They were guardians, protectors, beings intrinsically connected to the living world. Their enforced seclusion was a form of living death—a betrayal of their fundamental nature.

The intensity of these historical revelations proved overwhelming. Remi felt her consciousness wavering under the immense weight of generational trauma. Her last coherent thought before darkness claimed her was a profound, unsettling understanding: bridging the divide between dragons and humans would require far more than simple communication.

It would demand a fundamental reimagining of connection itself.

As unconsciousness descended, the ancient memories continued to echo—a symphony of loss, resilience, and unhealed wounds that would shape dragon-human relations for generations to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Remi lay unconscious, the three adult dragons began their true conversation—a dialogue that transcended spoken language, existing in a realm of pure consciousness and shared memory.

*Potential?* The Elder Stone Dragon's mental projection carried centuries of disdain. Lesser races and their crude magical manipulations—always seeking to blend, to corrupt, to contaminate. Memories flickered between them: goblin alchemists attempting grotesque transformations, human sorcerers creating abominations in hidden laboratories, fae courts experimenting with forbidden bloodlines. *IMPURE-ALIEN-UNNATURAL*, his consciousness thundered. Dragons had always been pure—each type distinct, each lineage untainted. Not like these lesser beings who saw magical potential as something to be mixed and mutated.

Images of failed hybrid attempts cascaded through their connection—twisted forms that defied natural law, magical experiments that ended in horror. Creatures caught between states, neither one thing nor another, always broken. *Dangerous-unstable-UNCLEAN*, his mental signature carried a tone of absolute revulsion. To even consider such a thing within a dragon clutch was an affront to everything sacred.

The intensity of their communication created a psychic resonance that rippled through the clearing. The hatchlings—Brother, Forge, Slate, Ember, and Flint—began to react almost immediately. Their scales bristled, and low chirps of distress escaped their throats.

Flint's response was the most pronounced. Still recovering from his recent trauma, the mental onslaught triggered a deep, primal fear. His body went rigid, caught between his instinct to burrow and his paralysis from the previous attack. Tremors ran through his scaled form, his emotional signature a chaotic mix of terror-memory-current_threat that threatened to overwhelm his fragile recovery.

Forge's tail club began to twitch involuntarily, while Slate pressed herself closer to the ground, attempting to shield herself from the overwhelming psychic pressure. Ember's protective instincts flared, her scales shifting to a more vibrant shade as she tried to position herself near Remi's unconscious form. Brother, ever vigilant, moved to support Flint, sensing his sibling's intense distress.

The father dragon recognized the danger immediately. *PROTECT-YOUNG* was his sole focus. With a swift, deliberate movement, he began herding the hatchlings toward the safety of their cave. His massive form moved with surprising gentleness, using his tail and body to guide the confused and overwhelmed young dragons away from the intense mental exchange.

Flint's reaction required special care. The father dragon's mental touch was particularly gentle with him, a careful *SAFE-QUIET-PROTECTED* that attempted to counteract the young dragon's rising panic. Brother assisted, his solid presence helping to anchor Flint as they moved.

Brother resisted momentarily, his protective instinct toward Remi causing him to hesitate. The father dragon's mental touch was firm but reassuring. *SAFE-FOLLOW-NOW* cut through the psychic turbulence, compelling the young dragon to comply.

The mother dragon's response to the Elder Stone Dragon was a fortress of protective fury. *MINE-PROTECTED-FAMILY* thundered through their connection, a mental wall that would have shattered lesser beings.

*Bridge?* The mental projection carried a profound sense of temporal dissonance. Generations? For lesser races, perhaps. But for True Dragons, this withdrawal was but a momentary breath in their ancient existence. One generation? Mere heartbeats. Their isolation was not a wound to be healed, but a strategic retreat—a collective drawing back that had lasted less time than it took a pine forest to mature. The crystalline image shifted, becoming less a bridge and more a razor-thin membrane separating worlds—delicate, yet holding back an ocean of primordial power. *Reconnection?* The concept itself was almost laughable. Dragons did not seek to reconnect. They endured. They waited. They preserved.

As the hatchlings were ushered into the protective darkness of their cave, the mental conversation between the Elder Stone Dragon, the mother dragon, and the father dragon continued unabated.

Deep in the cave, the hatchlings huddled together, their scales still vibrating with the echoes of the powerful mental exchange. Brother positioned himself protectively around Flint, who trembled between remembered terror and the current overwhelming sensations. Forge, Slate, and Ember pressed close, their collective body heat and proximity offering comfort.

As the last hatchling disappeared into the cave, the psychic pressure of the adult dragons' communication shifted. The cave's darkness muffled the young dragons' trembling, leaving only the raw, unfiltered consciousness of the ancient beings.

*EXPLAIN*, the Elder Stone Dragon's mental probe demanded. The image was surgical—a dissection of the impossible child who defied every established understanding of dragon and human existence. Memories of pure dragon lineages contrasted sharply with the anomaly of Remi's existence: a being neither dragon nor human, yet somehow both.

The mother dragon's response was a hurricane of protective fury and maternal certainty. *MINE-UNIQUE-NECESSARY*, her consciousness thundered, each mental projection a testament to the child's extraordinary nature. Memories cascaded between them—Remi's emergence, her integration with the clutch, moments of communication that shattered every preconceived notion of inter-species understanding.

The father dragon's mental signature wove between them, more measured but no less significant. His memories carried the weight of seeking out the Elder Stone Dragon, of sensing something fundamentally different in Remi's existence. *POTENTIAL-NOT-THREAT*, his consciousness suggested, with undertones of hope that surprised even himself.

The Elder Stone Dragon's mental touch was a blade of pure analytical intent. *SHOW-MORE*, the probe demanded, cutting through layers of emotion with the precision of someone who had witnessed millennia of magical transformations and found most wanting.

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

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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.

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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

So, Back to writing semi-regularly. 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.
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TTFN and good luck to all in their lives and pursuits!

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.
https://www.patreon.com/alyssnancyonymous(link is external)

Also, I've got my Discord Channel for anyone who wants to join, chatter, discuss, and enjoy general zaniness.
https://discord.gg/37RPTSv7Ua(link is external)

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!

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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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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.