October Writing Challenge: The Other Ones

[Admin!]

It's writing challenge time! To enter, just post a ficlet (300-4000 words suggested) in this thread. When the voting for this month's OTM winners comes around, a voting poll will go up for this as well.

The Challenge: Write a story about entirely original characters, set in the Hammel Universe. The story should take place at the Hammel Institute or Pilot Ridge, but no played characters can appear. You have the universe to play in, but you have to create new toys.

The rules:

• Ficlets are not site canon.
  
• Entries must be more than 300 words.
  
• You can enter no more than three stories. Any ficlets posted after the original 3 will not be considered for voting. If you want to post more, however, have fun.
  
• Ficlets must be titled.

[Rhett Goddard]

Disclaimer: Sex, drugs and death are mildly treated in the following story. You have been warned.

Perfect

Alice
-And now, the best part of the night –Christian smiled-. Time to rock this party…
-Alice?
-Alice –Christian smiled again.

Boring
-Why isn’t Marcus here? –Bobby asked.
-He’s boring, a party pooper.
-You miss him, don’t you?
-I have Alice –Christian reminded Bobby.

Cereal
-Look at that, I’m beginning to think we’re a gestalt pair –a young black-haired boy welcomed Christian into the line of the cafeteria with a handshake.
-Stop reading my mind, Marcus.
-I wasn’t –Marcus’s forehead wrinkled as he frowned-, you always get cereal when hangover. I do too.
-Weird.
-Maybe. How was it?
-What? –Christian asked, even if completely sure what the other boy asked.
-Last night.
-Can’t remember a thing.
-Great!

Due
-We have to finish that anatomy homework –Marcus reminded Christian.
-When is it due?
-Tomorrow.
-We have to finish that anatomy homework.

Endorphin
-No, that’s epinephrine.
-They sound similar.
-They are different.

Fairy
-I think that’s it –Christian said as he closed the book.
-I don’t ever want to know anything about anatomy again, man.
-At least it’s not math.
-Oh shut it, Chris.
-What? –Christian got up from the table and stretched his arms.
-Don’t say the M-word, bad things happen when you say the M-word.
-Math, math, math, math, math, math, math, ma… oh… wait…
-What? –Marcus asked while watching Christian takes his cell-phone from his pocket and stare in silence at the screen.
-It’s Alice.
-Your little fairy again? –Marcus rolled his eyes.
-She wants it –Christian smiled-, and I believe it is pixie, not fairy.
-Say hello from me.

Ghost
-Naoko! –Christian exclaimed while placing a hand in his chest.
-Oh, I’m sorry, Chris –the ghostly figure of a girl apologized.
-It’s almost midnight, you could have killed me.
-I… yeah, sorry again –Naoko bowed slightly and disappeared into thin air.

Hello
-Hi, baby.

Insist
-Don’t call me that, Christian.
-Sorry, Alice –the blonde sat in the bed-. Naoko almost gave me a heart-attack opening the door in her ghost form.
-Yeah, she does that.
-…
-…
-I wasn’t expecting that message.
-Yeah, well…
-It’s ok. You know you can call me anytime –Christian placed his hand on Alice’s.
-I don’t want to pass as needy –she moved his hand away from Christian, instead, brushing her red hair with it.
-I know I can be addicting –Christian smiled slightly.
-It can be quick, if you want.
-No, no, Alice –the blonde, once again, grabbed the ginger’s hand-, for as long as I can last. I insist.
-Thanks –a faint smile appeared in Alice’s face as pixie wings sprouted from her back-, the usual, then?

Jealousy
-I don’t like this you’re doing, Christian.
-You’re just jealous, prick.
-Of what?
-She wants all this –Christian pointed at himself-, and not you.
-She’s using you.
-She wants me, Alice wants me.
-She wants your…
-Good night, Bobby –Christian got up and walked to his room.

Kiss
-You should just go and talk to her –Christian shook Marcus’ shoulder strongly.
-I don’t know man, she doesn’t like me.
-Because you have never talked to her!
-Because she doesn’t like me!
-Because she doesn’t know you…
-So?
-If she’d know you, she’d like you –Christian said softly.
-I wish it worked like that…
-It does.
-No –Marcus stared deeply at Christian-, it doesn’t.

Lysergide
-Are you doing again this weekend? –Marcus asked as he ate.
-I want to. I’m going to.
-LSD doesn’t sdfskmdf when sdfspdmf frequently.
-Ok, eat, and then talk.
-LSD doesn’t work as good when you use too frequently.
-You know this stuff is stronger than that –Christian rolled his eyes.
-I think I’ll pass this one too.
-Look, baby Marcus is scared…
-I’m not! It’s just… -he hesitated.
-What?
-Ok, maybe I’m scared.
-Of?
-It’s pixie dust, man –Marcus dropped his fork on the table and crossed his arms-. I’m sure you’ve read and heard the stories, people going too crazy and dying and stuff.
-Amateurs –Christian shook his head with eyes closed-. You know this is top notch.
-Yeah, but, like…
-You don’t have to, it’s fine.

Money
-So, how does this work?
-I touch you –Christian answered.
-And that’s it?
-That’s it, Zack.
-And everything’s… perfect.
-Pretty much, yes.
-Ok, yes –the scrawny looking kid said with excitement-, let’s do this.
-Wait up –Christian raised an eyebrow-, first, what can you do?
-Oh, I already told you. I can teleport.
-No, no, not that, I meant, what can you do for me?
-Oh –the kid took a wallet from his pocket and opened before offering Christian some bills-. A hundred bucks. It’s all I had.
-I don’t deal in money. I have enough.
-Oh, so?
-Well… -Christian smiled.

Nightmare
-Yvonne? –Christian asked half-asleep-… What are you doing here?
-I…
-Come’on in, it’s late –Christian pulled the girl inside-, if anyone from the staff catches you here…
-I couldn’t sleep –she took a sit in the couch.
-Again?
-Every night since my powers developed –her face was sad-, except when…
-Hammel has very good experts in side-effects, Yvonne. You should see one.
-They don’t help! –she was rather loud-… not as much as you do…
-Yvonne, I…
-You don’t have any left?
-I can’t do it often enough. Ironically, I’m no master of my power yet.
-It’s fine…
-You know I’d help you if I could…
-Yeah…
-Look, wait here –Christian walked to his room and came back with a small bag in hands, which he promptly offered to the girl-. Take this.
-What is it?
-Pixie dust. Master pixie dust.
-Drugs?
-Designer drugs, or better. Custom-made.
-I’ve never done drugs…
-One tea-spoon, you’ll be relaxed –Christian explained-. Two, you’ll feel like you’re flying. Three, you’ll be hyperactive. With four you start hallucinating. Five is the best party you’ll ever have, and six, well, don’t ever do six.
-I… thanks.

OD
-I specifically told her to never do more than six!
-You’re in big trouble, man.
-Do you think they can get DNA from it? –Christian asked worriedly-… Trace it back to Alice? To me?
-I don’t know how it works.
-Does Vermont have death penalty?
-At most, this is unintentional homicide, and maybe drug-dealing. And you’re underage.
-It can’t be that bad, right? If they catch me.
-I… hope.
-Alibi. I was with you last night, I slept in your room –Christian grabbed Marcus’ hands and held it close to his chest-, please?
-I -Marcus stared at his hands before looking at the blonde’s eyes-… I have your back. I’ll be there for you. I will always be.

Perfect
-Didn’t you hear about that girl Yvonne a few days ago?
-Yes, but, what can you do about it?
-I don’t know, Christian. It was pixie dust. It got me a bit scared.
-Alice –he took her hand-, you know yours is top-notch. A work of art. Perfect.
-I know it wasn’t mine –Alice pulled his hand away from Christian’s slowly-, only you have mine.
-Of course. So?
-Don’t you feel bad asking for dust after a girl just died because of it?
-It was you who called me here.
-Yeah, but I thought…
-…
-…
-…
-Fine –she finally nodded.
-Great.
-The usual, then?
-Yes –Christian smiled as wings sprouted from Alice’s back-… no, wait. What do you know about endorphins?

Questions
-Just this? –Marcus asked as he looked at the insides of the small bag.
-It’s quality over quantity.
-Are you sure you’re not losing your touch, Christian? If you did your thing to her, she should have been able to do more. She always does more.
-We changed the ingredients this time –Christian took the bag from Marcus’ hands.
-Smart, no relation to Yvonne’s now. What’s new?
-Well…
-Christian McCormick? –a man in a suit approached the two boys.
-Y…yes?
-Come with me –the man said-, we have some questions to ask.

Room
-Yes, she was in my room that night, sir.

Side
-So you just… touch them, right?
-Yes –Christian answered.
-Go on.
-That’s it. I touch them.
-How much does it last?
-As much as I want to. Maximum is three days.
-What about side effects? –the man in the suit seemed curious.
-They get none.
-So you not only make them a master of their meta-abilities, but you also remove their side effects?
-Correct. I make them perfect.
-You must be popular in the school, then. With everyone dealing with pesky side-effects and you being the solution…
-…
-What about you? What are your side-effects?
-I thought you were here because of Yvonne’s death –Christian raised his voice a bit-. What does my meta-ability have anything to do? I already told you she said nothing about drugs, pixie dust or committing suicide.
-Relax, Christian, we’re almost over.
-…
-So?
-I take whatever side effects they had…

Thoughts
-Don’t worry, Christian –Marcus hugged the blonde after he walked out of the classroom made impromptu interrogation room- I read his mind. They have no idea where the pixie dust came from. They’re just doing routine questioning.
-Really?
-Yeah –Marcus held the hug-, you can feel safe.
-Thanks, man.

Unlike
-I can’t believe that after all that you…
-What? –Christian yelled, attempting to overcome the music’s volume.
-You really are going to do pixie dust?
-This time is different, Marcus.
-Really, how?
-Come’on –the blonde pulled Marcus to the back of the bar-. Do it with me.
-Unlike you, Christian, I appreciate my life. I won’t, sorry.
-You know what this is? –Christian opened the bag, showing its contents to the other boy.
-Your fairy girl’s drugs designed by you.
-But this one’s different –he looked away for one small second before looking at Marcus in the eyes-. I know you like me.
-What? –Marcus asked, even if with his mind-reading, he didn’t need to actually hear it again to know what the blonde had said.
-I know you like me.
-…
-I want to like you too.
-…
-…
-I don’t understand.
-Maybe you don’t have to –Christian said before pouring all the pixie dust the bag contained in his mouth.

Venus
-…
-What?
-Nothing… it’s just… prettier than a vagina.

Warm
-What did it have? –Marcus asked while caressing the blonde’s hair.
-Love –Christian swiftly replied.
-Love?
-I love you.
-But for how long?
-Maybe forever.
-You’re high –Marcus rolled around, facing away from Christian.
-I’m warm –Christian took the opportunity to spoon Marcus from behind-, you make me feel warm.
-But for how long…

XXX
-Marcus?
-Huh?
-Why are we -Christian carefully examined the room after noticing his and his friend’s nakedness-… did we?
-What do you remember about last night? –Marcus asked as he sat up in the bed.
-Not a single thing.
-Great.

Yvonne
-Marcus, wait! –Christian ran behind Marcus as he stormed out of the dorm.
-Christian McCormick –a man in a suit, accompanied by two others, said as they approached the blonde-, you’re under arrest for the murder of Yvonne Anders –two of the men handcuffed Christian-. Anything that you say can and will be used against you in court.
-No! –Christian yelled-... No, it wasn’t me! –he kept screaming-… Marcus! Marcus!

Zack
-Make it fast, please –the scrawny-looking Zack told Christian, who nodded and proceeded to walk to the next room.
-What are you doing here? –Marcus said, surprised of having Christian in his room.
-I’m sorry.
-You’re supposed to be in juvie, how did you…?
-Zack owed me from last week.
-He teleported you out?
-I remembered –Christian said, sure that Marcus would know what he’s talking about.
-I don’t know what you’re talking about.
-Don’t lie, mind reader.
-You know I don’t read your mind –Marcus looked away.
-Do it now, do it this time.
-…
-…
-You used a memory manipulator to remember?!
-She owed me too –Christian sighed-. I just… I wasn’t sure, I had to confirm if I remembered correctly.
-What do you want?
-I love you –Christian took a step closer to Marcus.
-You’re high.
-Am I?
-…
-Will you wait for me?
-Why would I?
-You said it once, you’ll be there for me.
-…
-…
-I will always be.

[Abe Milton]

((Blatant misuse of the MSAD, violence and some brainwashing are contained in this story. It is also uber long. You've been warned.))

Thistle and Weeds

Sometimes they were allowed to stay together, and then they’d talk. It wasn’t ever of anything important. Sometimes they’d briefly go into their families. Kait and John would tell about their parents. Gadget would talk about his engineering father. Richard never said anything on that. They’d talk about books they’d read, or video games they’d played. Sometimes they’d even murmur about how things might’ve been different, but not a lot. It seemed too risky. So they’d gloss over the topics that really mattered and keep the topic light, simple. Or mostly they just didn’t speak at all. It wasn’t that hard. Gadget was chatty by nature, but the Gestalt twins had never been the friendliest, especially now that they were fully synced. It didn’t take Gadget long to eventually trail into silence. Nights were the worst. Kait and John got irritated by how Gadget tossed and turned on the bed and periodically sent out little distressed sparks around him, and he got irritated (Well, as irritated as the small little fellow got) that they never seemed to react.

“Just because you’re a Gestalt doesn’t mean that you aren’t human,” he’d yell at them. And then they’d argue until Ottavio or the tired-looking Alyssa entered and got them to be quiet. Alyssa—who was a small, stocky woman with hard and cold features—would just tell them to shut up. But when Ottavio came in….

Neither Kait and John nor Gadget could ever figure out if they preferred Ottavio to Alyssa. He was better on the eyes, said the Gestalt pair. And he was. He was tall and thin, with dark hair combed back away from his dark and aristocratic features. His smile was like quicksilver and his dark eyes always glinted with--

--but that was where the problem was, because it wasn’t with kindness that Ottavio seemed to look at them. It wasn’t annoyance, either, like Alyssa’s tired blue eyes always seemed to hold. Instead, it seemed almost like…avarice. Greed. And a curious mixture of pride as well. He’d always sooth them with calm, relaxed words, although none of them could remember what exactly he’d said, and then promise them that they’d have their chance soon, just wait. And when he left they’d feel curiously uplifted and hopeful, until about a half-hour later when the sensation wore off. Kait and John grew to hate his visits.

“I like knowing that what’s in my head is what I’m thinking, not what he wants me to believe,” they said. They’d been with Ottavio’s little group for some time, as had Gadget, and it was always interesting to him to see how Kait’s casual and technical-filled slang had mixed with John’s more elevated speech patterns. They were not the only meta teenagers who had been taken by Ottavio’s group. Apparently the group had been around for as long as the infamous Hammel University had been. The story went that while it had been created, one group felt that metas should truly be superior, and had split off entirely.

Like Harry Potter, Kait said—back when she and John were still separate. But she didn’t explain when Gadget, who had been with MSAD since he was very, very young, asked what it was. There were more adults than just Alyssa and Ottavio, too. There was Marcus, the doctor, who groused at everyone but especially Gadget, as the boy tended to give off static shocks when he was high-strung (which was always). And there was Troy, and Ruth, and all sorts of others who they saw but never interacted with. Their teachers were Ottavio and Alyssa and they rarely interacted with anyone else. They were allowed video games but not cable, and only certain books. To Gadget, who had known very little but this, it didn’t bother him. But Kait and John, who had manifested later, would occasionally express discontent. Quietly. When no one else could hear.

But everything changed when William arrived.

He was older, for one. Nearly nineteen. And he was even better looking than Ottavio, but fair instead of darkly handsome—his hair was blonde instead of black, and fell about his narrow face in gentle waves instead of being slicked back. His skin was tanned in a way that suggested activity and not intent, and his mouth was always stretched in a white grin. His eyes were the most compelling feature about him: a deep blue, (“like those stupid sapphires from Titanic,” said John), and filled with all sorts of hidden secrets that hinted you too could understand them, if you just put in the time.

Kait and John were immediately interested, but when William found out about it, he laughed it off. “We need all sorts of time to work out that fantasy,” he informed them.

Ottavio was the first to introduce the blonde boy. Together, standing there, they made a beguiling picture—two figures, all smiles, all charm. And yet there was something different about them too. While Ottavio’s smile was sharp and somehow predatory, William’s filled the whole room with warmth. Even though they stood close, there was a sense of great differences between them—but none of the teens knew what.

“William will be staying with you for a time,” Ottavio said. “Be good now.”

When he left, Gadget began all sorts of pestering questions. The small boy sat cross-legged on William’s bed, blue eyes wide and red riotous hair falling over his freckled forehead, as the older boy began unpacking things. Where was William from? What was he doing here? Why was he so old? William laughed to that too. It seemed to be his response for everything.

“I’m a volunteer,” he said. “We’re not supposed to talk about our lives before, aren’t we? So we’ll stick with that. I heard about what Ottavio was doing and decided to join.”

“You mean MSAD,” said the twins in chorus. William shot them a look, then shrugged.

“Yeah, right. Anyways, I have precognition, and I’m already trained. I guess Ottavio figured I could be useful.”

The three nodded. Precognition could be useful. It was one of the more limited powers, in terms of being able to see the future far ahead, but it would be helpful for right in the moment. But Gadget could see Kait and John’s brows furrowing. Something was wrong there. But he didn’t know what, so he just skipped over it and smiled at William, who offered an even brighter smile and a wink back.

“So what do you all do here?” he inquired as he finished unpacking his clothes into the small drawers under the bed. He sat down next to Gadget and eyed the afro of red hair, and then gingerly put his hand to the boy’s skin, only to withdraw it quickly .”Let me guess. Energy manipulation?”

“Yup!” Gadget said happily. “I make things go boom.”

William’s smile flickered for a moment, and then returned, wider than ever. Then he looked over at the Gestalt pair.

“And what about you?” he asked politely.

“We coordinate plans,” Kait said.

”And help with the heavy lifting,” John added.

“I see.” There it was again—the hesitation. Gadget wondered if he was the only one who noticed. John had been the one who was good at social cues, not Kait—it could’ve been a trait they’d lost. “So it’s sort of a working program, huh? They put you on the front lines pretty quickly, then?”

“Not that often.”

”Our last one was the officer of that senator who wanted meta registry at Hammel to be public domain.”

“Yup!” Gadget said, because had nothing else to add the conversation and he wanted William’s warm smile of big-brotherly affection to be directed at him again. He was unhappy that it was not the case. The blonde boy didn’t even look at him. His expression was thoughtful.

“That was you?” he inquired. “Huh. Would’ve thought—do you know how many people died in that?”

The three looked at each other, baffled.

“But they were the bad guys,” Gadget said.

William shrugged. “Sometimes it’s not that easy to define.”

William had all sorts of crazy ideas like that. He helped Alyssa when they had lessons on how to control their powers, sparred with Kait and John—and got beaten, of course—and generally seemed on top of it and even cheerful about the lessons they were being taught. When they were educated on how to hold a gun by Ottavio, who was frighteningly good at hitting the target all the time, William was right there with them, correcting Kait and John’s stance and teasing Gadget when he tried too large of a weapon and it knocked him over. At night, however, things were different. He had a way of telling stories that had them all laughing—stories they’d never heard of before, like Iron Man or even just the story of some crazy president who had a shoe thrown at him once. Sometimes he’d tell stories of Hammel too, but always in a wistful tone. The Hammel stories became requested more and more. William told about a time he and a friend had caught an oven on fire or when they’d thrown water balloons in the hall. Or he told about his trainers, who weren’t quiet and grouchy like Alyssa, but who cracked jokes and seemed like human beings. He talked about finals and tests and what he called normal life while the others just listened. Kait and John could relate. They’d come when they were fourteen, after their parents had kicked them out when they’d manifested. But Gadget, who had been only ten when MSAD had taken him in, listened with the widest eyes to all the stories. William also slipped in other things. He talked about things like…equality. Like discussing issues. Like the meta representative who had been elected, and the pain of families who had lost someone during the September 11th bombing. Once, Ottavio came in when William was talking about these things. He listened for a time, leaned against the wall, and then, at the end, politely asked for William to follow him out.

”He’s done for,” said Kait. Gadget gave her a puzzled look. It was true that whatever Ottavio said was what held sway in your mind for quite some time, but Gadget didn’t believe that it was that simple. He wasn’t sure why. But when William returned, it seemed clear that Gadget’s belief had held sway. Although William’s expression was thoughtful, it didn’t have that blank, compelled look that Ottavio’s words often inspired. He sat down on the bed and was silent for some time. Then, at last, he spoke.

“He’s kind of a hardass, isn’t he?”

And everyone relaxed. No one understood how it had worked, but they were happy it was. And things continued just as they had been, but William was a little quieter in his stories. And if Alyssa watched over them more…well, it was getting close to their next job.

This one was attacking a meta office that had declared that they’d work with the government to integrate metas better into the system, by the name of Operation Patriot. Only that was how William phrased it, after he’d heard their orders. Ottavio said they were working to expose metas to be catalogued and punished for what they were. Having been bewitched by that glamor Ottavio put over everyone he talked to, Kait and John and Gadget argued strenuously over this.

“Don’t you see what he does?” For one of the first times, William seemed truly angry. “He’s a hypnotist! That’s his power. I think I’ve finally figured it out. That’s why we all do what he says. That’s why no one thinks about what we’re doing. You’re all smart people—think about it for a moment and try to fight it.”

“Paranoia’s a side-effect of your power,” the twins taunted. “Why should we believe you?”

“Because I’m right.”

They didn’t talk for the rest of the night. But when Gadget had one of his nightmares and curled up in bed next to William, the older boy wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tight, like Gadget could once remember his father doing.

The next day was the event. Kait and John separated to begin casing the place. Kait had her headphones in as she normally did, rocking out like any other teen with the blue streaks in her hair and her glasses on. John stood next to her and bobbed to the music as well as he fiddled with a Gameboy. They’d been strolling around absently kicking things around and, while one shielded the other, placing items in the appropriate places. Alyssa had been sent in to talk to the office in the interests of being placed in a position while checking their defenses and making sure they got the timing just right, and Gadget and Ottavio were walking around, carefully checking the placement of the small items that they’d placed around the area. The small, explosive items. Gadget was the best at this. He had the smallest hands, and could tell when the energy wasn’t flowing right. He was also the best at making things explode.

William was lookout. Perfect for precognition, but he seemed tense, even as he scanned the area and, presumably, the future at the same time. Ottavio seemed to notice this and offered him a friendly smile as they paused by him.

“See anything?” he asked.

“No,” William said shortly. Ottavio nodded amiably and strolled on, but William caught Gadget’s arm before he continued next to him.

“Gadget,” he said in a low voice. “I want you to be careful. When things start going wrong, run, okay? Try to find me. I know you can. But if you can’t, lie low and I’ll find you later.”

“What do you mean, when things start to go wrong?” Gadget was confused and scared. William’s grip on his arm was uncomfortably tight.

“Just trust me, okay?” William smiled at him. “Good luck.”

“Gadget,” Ottavio called. Gadget tugged away and quickly walked after Ottavio.

“What was he asking you about?” Ottavio asked. Gadget hesitated, staring up at those deep dark eyes, and then, somehow, found the words he wanted to say.

“Nothing.”

And then things were in place. Alyssa exited the building and stood next to William, and Kait and John caught the bus to head back to the base, Troy keeping them company because he was the one who resembled them most and so could pass himself off as a parent or an older sibling. Gadget and Ottavio were doing one more round and then Gadget, too, was to be whisked away, when suddenly sirens were heard. Ottavio jerked around as several police cars and large, black vans with SWAT written on the side pulled up. He swore in Italian, grabbed Gadget’s hand, and began to run. He turned down an alley only to skid to a halt. William was there, gun in hand, aim steady, and his own blue eyes intent on Ottavio’s face.

“Drop the kid,” William said. His voice suddenly sounded older, and there were lines around his eyes that Gadget hadn’t noticed before. Ottavio’s eyes narrowed. Then he picked up Gadget around the waist and put a gun to the boy’s head. The rounded metal was cool against his skin.

“William, now, you don’t want to do this,” Ottavio said in his most soothing voice. “Just let us go and no one will get hurt.”

“You’ll still blow up the building,” William pointed out. He didn’t move, although Gadget noticed his eyes were on him now. “I can’t let you do this.”

Ottavio’s eyes narrowed, and then he shrugged. “I see. Let me guess—you’re from Hammel, right?”

“Recruiter, actually. I volunteered.”

“Pretty militant for a recruiter.”

“A good friend of mine grew up with MSAD.” A healthy layer of bitterness overlay William’s tone. “The real one, not this clone that you run now. I picked up some tricks from him. What you’re doing is just a copy and it’s pathetic, Ottavio, using these kids for your own game.”

Gadget could almost hear how Ottavio’s finger tightened around the trigger, and then felt it as the man breathed out and relaxed. “And your power, then?”

“Power suppression.” William shrugged. “Good for a recruiter and very good when dealing with a hypnotist. Now put him down.”

“Mm. No.” Quicker than Gadget could grasp, Ottavio shifted and the gun was suddenly pointed at William. It was only Gadget’s struggles that stopped the shot from hitting William in the heart. Ottavio dropped Gadget unceremoniously and ran past the gasping William. And even though Gadget had been hoping that a police officer might show up, or Kait and John might grab him or something, no one did show up. A car appeared around the back, and Ottavio climbed into it, and they were off. Gadget, too shocked to cry or to do anything, got to his feet and walked shakily over to William.

“You—you okay?”

William glanced up and managed a faint smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” He inhaled, winced, and then gripped the growing red stain over his arm. “Thanks, Gadget. I think you saved my life.”

“Um. You were trying to save mine.” The boy was trembling all over and felt ashamed.

“Yeah. I guess I was.” William’s smile widened into more of the grin that Gadget remembered, then he climbed to his feet. “So. How would you like to attend Hammel after all?”

“Um.” Gadget hesitated for a moment, then glanced up. “Could I—could I live with you?”

William seemed surprised by this, then laughed and tousled the boy’s enthusiastic hair.

“Sure. Why not?”

[Lani Hunter]

Help, I'm Alive

“Ms. Soniel, are you listening?”

The voice cut into her concentration and her bright eyes turned up to the man and she nodded numbly. He frowned at her and grabbed her arms lifting her to her feet. It was then that she realized she was shaking. This couldn’t be happening. No. This wasn’t happening to her.

“I’m sorry, Leyla,” he said, “I wish things had ended differently.”

“Me too,” she whispered. He stretched down and kissed her cheek and Leyla felt all of the anger and all of the pain. “Leave.” She said pushing him away.

“Leyla…”

“Leave!” She cried at him. With that he turned and he was gone.

Just like that. Gone. Leyla rubbed her eyes and to go inside. Leyla closed her eyes and then turned back to the door and ran to the door. With a scream accompanying it she opened her eyes and like lightning a deadly light flashed across the sky burning with all of the anger and all of the agony. Gone! The light flickered as her eyes blinked with tears and finally the light flooding the streets was gone. Empty. Dark.

The energy flooded from her and she crashed onto her hands and knees and cried out a wailing moan. She tore her hands through her hair and her fists came out with long strands of dark hair. She screamed as she pulled her knees to her chest and tears poured from her eyes like waterfalls. How was she supposed to go on? What now?

What now?

Everything she knew was gone. She walked like a wraith around their… her house and numbly flipped pictured over that had him but she couldn’t escape the memories. Her hands shook as she touched the doorframe to the kitchen and she looked on at the scene that was unfolding in her eyes but no one else’s.

“Leyla?” A voice called and she blinked the scene was gone but she didn’t want it to be gone. She wanted it back. Her throat closed and she swallowed back her tears turning to a woman with long blond hair.

“Yes, Mary,” Leyla forced a smile. “Thank you so much for coming. It’s hard to be alone.”

“I know,” Mary said, “I wish there was something I could do.”

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Leyla said weakly.

Mary took her by her shoulders and held on tight. “Leyla Soniel Pilot Ridge will survive two weeks without you. I promise.”

Mary frowned as if she could see how much Leyla though work would help cure this ache. She enveloped Leyla in a hug. Leyla closed her eyes and let herself fall into Mary’s embrace. Her shoulders shook a little and the tears started to fall again. Mary made soothing sounds but nothing would console her. Not now.

Not ever.

It was with a heavy heart and agony in her heart that she stood in black. There he was. Her hands shook as she stepped up to the casket. She couldn’t see his face. She couldn’t touch him one last time. She couldn’t hold him. She couldn’t tell him that everything was alright.

Her shoulders shook as the chorus of the church took up the psalm bidding him into the arms of the lord. Into the gates of heaven and forgiveness of his sins. They wished his memory to be eternal and it was then she joined in her voice shaking but she was promising him this. He would not forget him. “Eternal be his memory. Eternal be his memory. Eternal be his memory.” She looked at the photo, a young man in a uniform.

She held her head high and looked the man in the eye as he handed her a folded flag and muttered his apologies. The bearer of the bad news sat next to her. “I’ll never be able to thank him for what he did. You should be proud. It’s because of him that I’m alive.”

Leyla bit her tongue to keep from delivering the harsh reality that what she wanted was him dead and her son alive. Why was he here and not her son? Her son was the light of her life. He always made her proud. Her son was a hero. He had died for a war he didn’t believe in. He had died for them.

Or better yet, why was she alive and he was dead? Tears blurred her vision as she realized that she was burying her son. That was it. The end. She was here and he was gone. He wasn't going to sit up and laugh at the trick it was over. Done. Finished.

She rose before they had a chance to lower his body. Cradling the flag against her chest like it was her son she hurried into her car and back home. She placed the flag on the table and sat down. It didn’t take very long before other people started to show up. They came and hugged her and shared their condolences.

They brought food and love and pleaded with her not to give up. He was in a better place. How was that so? He was alone when he died? He was probably scared and perhaps he had wanted her? What kind of mother wasn’t there for her son?

She wished they would leave. So she told them. “Leave.” She whispered her voice hoarse from screaming and her eyes closed, soar from tears. “Leave,” she croaked catching someone’s attention.

“What’s wrong Leyla?” Andrew asked.

That was the last straw. The condolences from the father who hadn’t given a damn about her son until he was buried six feet under. “What’s wrong?” She looked at him her voice shrill with hysterics. “What’s wrong? My son is dead!!” She rose to her feet and shrieked. “Leave! Get out!” He reached for her and she slapped him. “Get out! All of you! Get out!” Her eyes opened and the laser shot out at the wall as she sobbed.

It didn’t take much more than that and her family and friends were gone. “Van,” she moaned. She collapsed into her chair and taking the flag in her arms she sobbed the tears she didn’t think she had left.

The following weeks were hard. She slowly flipped the pictures back up. The flag was handing in a case and the case was nicely engraved with his name and his heroism. A gift from his platoon. It reminded her of his sacrifice and how he had gotten that from her. So, she was dressed in her uniform, her police badge stuck to her chest. She looked at her face in the mirror. She brushed her short hair and took a deep breath as she wiped her eyes dry yet again.

She moved to the kitchen. There he was, at five, at ten, at nineteen. The scratches on the doorframe marked each year. She smiled as she reached the one above her own head. That was right before he left. A gentle laugh came out of her rusty voice. ‘Mom,’ he had complained standing against the door anyways, ‘I’m getting too old for this, and too tall.’

“Don’t go,” Mary pleaded, startling Leyla out of her memories. She looked back at the door frame and her laughing boy was gone.

“I have to. I have to get back to my life.” Leyla said and her fingers brushed across the scratches on the door frame.

“Leyla, no one is expecting you to go back yet. Just wait a little while.”

Shaking her head Leyla smiled at her friend. “No, he’d want me to get on with my life.”

She closed her eyes and stepped out into the warmth of the sunlight. She closed her hands together. Turning he closed her eyes and looked at the door. The boy only a child at the time stood at the door with Mary, “Come home safe, mama.” Leyla’s eyes snapped open in shock at the memory struck her real ears.

“What?”

Mary smiled and waved from the door. “I said, come home safe, ma’am.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

My Little Town

And after it rains,
There's a rainbow.
And all of the colors are black.
It's not that the colors aren't there.
It's just imagination they lack.
Everything's the same
Back in my little town.

The town boasted a population of only a few hundred people, many of whom had been born in the town. Most of those who hadn’t had been born in neighboring towns in Vermont. Few had been born out of state, fewer still had been born outside of New England. Everyone knew one another’s names, work histories, family members, hobbies, interests, tragedies, hopes, dreams, and fears.

It was impossible to remain anonymous in such a small town. Strangers were immediately noticed, because they didn’t fit in. Any small change in the community or the landscape of the town quickly became town-wide news.

The residents of Pilot Ridge preferred it that way.

Considering that a bad crop, a slip and fall, or even a trip out of town warranted gossip, it was impossible to hide the ongoing construction project. What made it more suspicious were the men from out of town in fancy suits walking among the construction workers. More than out of town, many were from out of state, from out of New England. From Washington D.C. and New York City, fancy places with ideals different from those of the townspeople. They had different experiences, and nobody knew anything about their pasts or their families.

The people and the building were a mystery. Mysteries bred gossip.

“I heard that it’s supposed to be a school,” Sara Ann Miller remarked while buying groceries at the general store.

“A school?” Jim Guthrie shook his head in disbelief. “It can’t be a school; it’s far too big for that.”

“That’s what everyone says: a school.”

“It can’t be,” Jim insisted. “You can see them building the foundation out there, and it’s gigantic. No school would be that big. Unless you mean a university.”

It was Sara Ann’s turn to shake her head. “It isn’t a university. The University of Vermont doesn’t need another campus, and besides, that little college over in Bennington just opened earlier this year. They wouldn’t put a brand new college here that soon. Not when there’s no money to go around. And they didn’t even warn us about a university.”

“They didn’t warn us about this school either,” Jim pointed out. There had been no town hall meeting about it, no vote, not so much as a “by your leave.” Instead, the property that had once been pastoral green grass and small hills had been sectioned off with a big chain-linked fence and signs warning people to stay away. Then the construction crews, the vehicles, the cement and supplies, and the men in suits had all started flowing through the town.

It was good for business; everyone had to admit that. The little town sorely needed the economic boost, given the fact that there was so little money to go around. Nobody in their town had been wealthy to begin with, but with the banks losing money and wiping out savings, and with the poor crops in half the nation...every little bit helped.

The construction workers went to the diner and the general store. The men in suits used the post office constantly, always sending and picking up packages and letters. Gasoline sales had tripled when the construction started.

But it was still strange. And if it wasn’t a school, then what was it?

“I heard it’s going to be a prison,” Ted Robinson, the postman, said Mark and Daisy Wright while handing over a batch of letters. “A federal one, which is why they didn’t have to put it up for a vote with the town or the state government.”

“That’s awful!” Daisy said, face melting into horror. To think of their little town filled with criminals: mobsters and bank robbers, and murderers. Could the government even do that?

“That would explain why it’s so big,” her husband said with a frown. “But why did they have to build it here?”

Ted shrugged. “Because it’s the folks down in Washington. All they do lately is find ways to roll over the rest of us.” He didn’t speak out against the government outright, since he worked for them. But he was getting as tired of the downturn as the rest of the country. He was as worried about the future as everyone else.

“Have you heard when it’s supposed to open?” Mark asked. Ted had better information than most of their neighbors, since he spoke to everyone and had links to other parts of government. He’d had to deliver mail to the men in suits many times now.

“Probably by the end of the year. They say they want it done by the autumn.”

“That’s an odd time to open a prison,” Daisy pointed out.

“What can I say? That’s Washington for you. They can’t keep to a proper schedule.”

Construction continued at pace. There wasn’t a lot of money to go around in many other parts of the country, but the men worked hard, toiling for ten hours every day, mixing cement, laying bricks and pipes and electrical wires and wooden frames. The men in suits continued to supervise and tend to business on behalf of the building project.

One day, the Vice President himself showed up to check in with the project.

The townspeople were surprised. Nobody that important had ever come through the town before. Politicians didn’t usually come this far out when doing their election tours; they stopped in one of the neighboring towns and residents of Pilot Ridge had to seek them out. Besides, one would think that Herbert Hoover and his entire administration would be too embarrassed to face the people. And yet, Charles Curtis came through town and even spent the night at Elsie’s Inn.

He took questions from some of the people at the diner, although not about the building project. He talked about campaign promises, since it was an election year. He talked about the economy and his hopes for turning the country around, helping the nation to recover.

But all of that was obviously an afterthought, since he was here for the special building project.

Which was proceeding according to schedule.

“Is it a prison?” Sixteen-year-old Jacob Metzger asked as he shook the Vice President’s hand before the politician disappeared into his car.

“Of course not. We don’t need more prisons.” The Vice President’s chauffeur shut the door and then stepped around to the driver’s side of the car.

“Then what is it?”

But the car sped away before he received an answer.

“Have you seen the building out in the hills?” Mary Bellamy asked her grandmother as the old woman stirred the sauce in the pot on the stove. While her grandmother cooked, Mary had been charged with the task of setting the table. As she did for every meal.

“Of course I have.” Everyone in town had seen the building, the large walls were impossible to miss, as was the new construction. It was far nicer than several of the other buildings in town, since it was shiny and new. And even if her eyes were worse than those of people younger than her, Grandma Bellamy had still heard the rumors.

More than that, she’d heard the workmen and the men in business suits discussing the true purpose of the building.

“Do you know what it is?” Mary asked. The silverware fell to the table with an unceremonial clatter as the girl turned to look over at her grandmother. The old woman was so wise, seemingly aware of everything around them, even when she didn’t leave the house that often these days.

“Yes.” No further explanation came; Grandma Bellamy continued to stir the sauce as though she wasn’t privy to the greatest secret to ever happen in Pilot Ridge.

“What is it?” Mary simply had to know. Her grandmother was good at keeping secrets but surely, surely she would tell her this. When she was so curious.

“It’s a school.”

“Oh.” Mary’s face fell. She’d thought it was something special, but it was just a school after all. “Why is it so secret then? Schools aren’t a big deal.”

“Because this school is going to be special.”

“What’s so special about it?” Mary cocked her head to the side, awaiting explanation. Curious hazel eyes watched the old woman’s back.

“It will be a school for people like us.”

“...oh.”

While Mary absorbed that, the cupboard behind her opened and two dishes floated out to land in her hands.

“So I’ll get to meet people my own age?”

“Yes, finally.” The sauce was finished, and Grandma Bellamy stepped back to open the oven and check on the chicken.

“Where will they come from?” There was nobody like them in the entire town. Grandma Bellamy had assured Mary of that time and again.

“From all over. Wherever they’re living right now.” The old woman turned to smile at her granddaughter, reassurance when she knew the girl was uncertain. “I told you we weren’t alone.”

“Oh,” Mary said again. “When will they come?”

“As soon as the school opens.” Grandma Bellamy was silent a moment, as though listening to a conversation far away. “By September, right on schedule.”

Mary brought the dishes over to the table. “Why do some of the other people think that it’s a prison?”

“Because they don’t understand. And if they knew what the school was for, they’d want it to become a prison.” The chicken was pulled from the oven to cool, and Grandma Bellamy turned around again.

“Will it be safe to go there?”

“They wouldn’t build a school unless it was safe,” Grandma chided gently. “Now go wash your hands. There’s still so much to do.”