Unseen Tales of Hammel

[JD Paerson]

I have a love of writing, and a love of my characters. Sometimes I use these loves to write little stories about the characters. After some prodding, I have been convinced to put these stories up here.



Thanksgiving

Germany, five years ago.

The Paerson home was filled with the smells of roasting turkey and smoked ham. Mrs. Amelia Paerson had worked on the two meats while the boys, JD and Josef, had heated up instant mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, stuffing and biscuits. No matter where the family was for Thanksgiving, they always ate the same meal. It was an American holiday, Amelia argued, and they would eat an American meal.

JD set the table with the nice dishes and fancy silverware. He looked at Josef, seated to the left. They both frowned and looked at the pile of food in the middle of the table, then up to the head of the table, which was still empty.

“He’s just a little late,” Amelia said. “He’ll be here.”

Josef shook his head. JD looked down at his empty plate and waited silently as the food went cold.

They reheated the food after half an hour, then again an hour after the meal was first ready. Ten minutes after that, Flight Lieutenant Jasper Paerson walked in the door. He hung up his coat, put up his hat, took off his shoes, and came to the table.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said gruffly.

The rest of the family nodded and started to silently pile food onto their plates.

“Jonah,” Jasper said. “Someone came to talk to me about you, today. About something you did.”

“I’m sorry,” JD said, slowly looking up. It didn’t matter what the actual issue was, it was best just to apologize immediately and so shorten any possible punishment.

“Yes, well, it didn’t interrupt me too much. But why didn’t you tell me you had joined track?”

JD blinked. “But…I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me. A recruiter from another school came to me. He said you were a fast runner and this fancy, private school in Switzerland offered you a spot. Where else would he have seen you outside of track?”

JD swallowed his bite of ham with a large gulp and set down his fork. “Um. I was just running, you know? I wasn’t in track. I was just going to school one day, and I guess I ran really fast and impressed someone. It’s no big deal. I don’t have to go to the other school.”

“Jonah, this is a great opportunity for you.” Jasper took a drink of water and looked across the glass at his oldest son. “I don’t know why you would be turning down—”

“It’s a meta school, Jasper,” Amelia said, slamming her hand on the table. “Jonah is a meta. He has super-speed.”

Jasper stopped with a jerk. He then slowly set his cup down on the table. “You are what now?”

Amelia turned to him. “He’s a—”

“I want to hear him say it!” he roared.

JD looked at his plate. “Metahuman,” he mumbled.

“Louder, Jonah Dennis Paerson.”

He looked up at his father. “I’m a metahuman,” he said. One tear fell across his cheek and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you’re sorry.”

“Shut up, Jasper.” Amelia looked over at her husband. “Just shut up.”

“Amelia, he’s one of them. One of those monsters trying to get into our government and destroy our country. And now my own son…”

“That’s right. Your son. And he is not a monster, he is just a kid.” She stood up.

Jasper stood up. “I will not have one of them in my house. He’s a menace, Amelia, a menace to our family and to our country.”

JD looked over at Josef. He knew he was crying, and he tried to keep wiping the tears away. He needed to be strong. “It’s okay, Josef,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to leave you alone.”

“You get out of my house, do you hear me?” Jasper looked over at his oldest son. “I don’t want you to stay here.”

“Dad, I’m not—” JD started.

“Get out!”

JD stood. He looked over at Josef. “I’m sorry.” Then he started running.

*************

Present Day.

“Hey. Hey, you okay?”

JD blinked and looked wearily up to see one of his roommates, RC, standing there.

“You okay? You were shouting in your sleep.”

“Yeah,” JD said, sitting up. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks. Just, just remembering.”

“Pretty wretched memory, huh?” he asked.

“Just the last time—never mind.” Last time I had a meal with my whole family, he thought. “You should probably go get some more sleep.

RC nodded, then left. JD sat up and rubbed his head. Then he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater. He laced up his shoes, then slipped out into the early morning before the sun rose. He took a deep breath of the cold, wet air. A fresh layer of snow lay on the ground, untouched.

He started running.

[Leila Gold]

Bad Day

The day started with the alarm going off an hour early because Leila had forgotten to reset it the night before for daylight savings. So she hit the button and went back to bed, burying her head in the pillow. Then, half an hour later, her apartment-mate’s alarm went off, also an hour early. It took a minute for it to be shut off, then Leila laid back down. Five minutes later, the alarm went off again, since it had only gone off on snooze. Leila groaned and rolled over. There was no point anymore in trying to sleep, so she got out of bed.

She was missing a slipper. When she got down on the floor to look under the bed, she hit her head on the bedside table. This only served to aggravate the migraine that was starting to form. She found the other slipper and put them both on, then shuffled into the bathroom to get some painkillers. When she glanced in the mirror, she saw a pimple forming on the corner of her mouth and frowned at it. It was already feeling sore.

She opened the medicine cabinet and reached inside for the bottle of aspirin. It wasn’t there. The Excedrin, Motrin, Advil, Tylenol…all of it was gone, even the Benadryl. She slammed the cupboard shut and walked out into the living room.

“Where’s all the medicine?” she asked, looking at her roommate who was sitting at the table eating cereal. “Where’s my medicine? Do you know what happened to it all?”

The girl shrugged. “I guess it got misplaced.”

“When would it have gotten misplaced? I always keep it in the same place. It’s in the cabinet, then I put it in my purse when I leave, then I put it back when I get home.”

“The bathroom was messy the other day, and I cleaned up a lot of stuff.”

“Did you throw all of it away? How could you!”

“Don’t you have back-ups?”

“No, I have lots of different kinds so that I don’t ever need back-ups. They shouldn’t all be gone.”

Her roommate just shrugged again and returned to her cereal. Leila scowled and went to her bedroom, where she tore apart the room looking for any last remnant. The wind whipped around and blew under blankets and clothes, but every time she used her power the headache just grew worse.

“Fine,” she finally muttered. “I’ll just go get new ones.” But then her wallet was gone out of her purse. And she couldn’t find it. And she couldn’t focus to try to figure out where she would have left it. And she had to go to work in an hour.

She decided she’d stop off and get some money from the bank, run to the store, and then head to work. She quickly dressed in whatever was closest, then headed out the door. She took her bike to the bank and got in line to withdraw some money.

The person in front of her was talking on her cell phone. Leila did her best to ignore the conversation, but it was difficult, since the lady was basically screaming at her husband through the phone. Leila gathered that they were having money issues, that there was another woman, and that this conversation really shouldn’t have been taking place over the phone while standing in line for the bank.

The person behind her was chewing gum. No. Not chewing. Popping. The song from Chicago was running through Leila’s brain as she gritted her teeth. Suddenly, it made a lot more sense for someone to take a shotgun to any person who liked popping gum.

At the counter Leila discovered that there was a new policy which required her to have her identification card in order to withdraw funds. Since her ID was with her wallet, which was still missing, she left the bank without any money and without any means to get some medicine. Her right eye was throbbing, and when she stepped outside every single car honk raked across her eardrums and sent pangs sending down the back of her head into her shoulders.

She went to unlock her bike, only to discover that the front tire had been stolen. It was one of the quick-release tires, and normally Leila locked it and the bike to the rack, but today she’d forgotten. And now the tire was gone. But she couldn’t just leave the bike chained in front of a bank in Chicago, so she unlocked it and started pushing it up toward the office where she worked with Cobalt.

She’d only been working with the older man for a couple weeks now, and this was her first really bad day in a long while. But she didn’t want to make a really bad impression on him, since she didn’t want to get fired. She resolved to work through the pain and the problems and just get her work done today.

She pushed open the door and pulled her bike into the office. The door slammed behind her as she pulled the bike to the back wall.

“Hey,” Cobalt said, leaning back in his chair. Of course he was already here. Leila doubted that he ever left—probably couldn’t afford his own place anyway, spent it all on the rent for the office. He looked at Leila pulling in her bike and smirked. “Aren’t those things supposed to have two wheels? Otherwise, how are you going to ride them?”

Leila scowled, but decided to ignore the comment. He just didn’t know that she wasn’t having a good day. She pulled the bike to the back of the office and set it up against a pile of old case files. She went to her desk and pulled out a pen to start working on all the paperwork.

“What, no chipper comment today?” Cobalt said, looking over. “I was expecting a song from you today, something you’d composed on the way over. Something with rose petals and moonshine.”

She gritted her teeth again and slammed a folder onto her desk. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away. Maybe he’d know that today just wasn’t the right day for this….

“Oh, are you just going to be moody today? Poor Leila, I’m sure you must be struggling so badly with all of your horrible pain.”

That was it. Leila stood up so abruptly that her chair fell over. A couple papers blew over in a breeze. She marched over to Cobalt.

“Yes,” she said with a growl. “I am moody. I am upset. I have had a bad day. And your little jabs are not making it any better.”

“Hey now,” he said, standing up himself. “Don’t yell at me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just trying to—“

“Trying to what? To hurt my feelings? To point out everything that’s been going wrong today? Are you trying to mock my pain?”

“Look, you do it to me all the time.” He started to gather some shadows around himself in his meager attempt at self-defense. That corner of the office grew dark. “Why is it okay for you to make fun of me, but not for me to make fun of you?”

“Do I make fun of you? Or do I make fun of the fact that you over-exaggerate the things that are wrong with you, things that you could fix if you ever bothered to just try.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” His shadows loomed forward, casting a dark pallor on Leila now.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said with a snarl. She went to her desk and rummaged in a drawer for a moment, then came back with something behind her back. “Stop using your shadows to try to intimidate me.”

“Or what?” he said, throwing the shadows out even farther.

Leila pulled the flashlight from behind her back and turned it on Cobalt’s face. He shrank back, covering his eyes with his hands and cowering in the chair.

“Do you even realize what I do for you? How hard I actually work with you? The kind of…bullcrap that I put up with, all for you. You aren’t the easiest person to work with, you know. You won’t listen to common sense, for one thing. You can’t see. I keep telling you to get glasses, but you don’t, and then you continue to complain that you can’t see. You can’t walk. I tell you that you need to get a knee brace so that you will stop having as much pain in your leg. But you don’t. You just complain about your knees without ever trying to figure out what’s actually wrong with them. What if it’s something you can fix?

“Not all people can fix their pain,” she said. Her volume was slowly increasing, and she bore down on Cobalt with the light. “Not everyone can just find a solution to it. Some people just have to deal. And some people get over it. They realize that there’s a problem, they have things they’re going to deal with the rest of their life, and they get on with their lives. They don’t let the negative things drag them down.”

She took a huge breath. “I don’t always wake up with a good attitude in the morning. In fact, most mornings I wake up feeling kind of cranky. But I don’t let it rule over my day, because I care about people. I care about the people who I live with, the people I see as I go through my day. I care about you, Cobalt, and I don’t want you to have to put up with my bad mood, because it’s none of your fault. And so I make myself happy, because I want you to be happy. That’s what I do. And you have never, never appreciated it!”

She stepped back. The wind had been building in the office, and papers were flying off the walls. Boxes were moving, the filing cabinets were rattling, and the door was slamming against its frame. Leila’s hair flew up around her in a giant mass of yellow. She took a breath and closed her eyes. The wind died down for a moment.

Suddenly, Leila opened her eyes and glared from under her brows at Cobalt. He shrank back in his chair. She turned and went to the door, stepping outside and shutting it carefully behind her. Then she let loose a huge scream, and a giant wind storm erupted, blowing litter into the air and across the streets in a giant cannon. Car alarms went off, trash cans blew over, trees lost their leaves, and for blocks around dogs were barking.

Leila smoothed her hair back into a loose ponytail and held it with her hands. Then she went back into the shop and went to stand in front of Cobalt.

“I think,” she said slowly, “I think it might be a good idea if I took a day off.”

“Yeah,” he said with a quivering voice. “I think you might be right.”

She nodded and went to her desk. In the top drawer she found her wallet, which she stuffed in her purse and went out to buy some painkillers and then find a way out into a less populated area where she could have a bit of a break.

Cobalt sat and stared at the door for a moment after she left. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “Why did I ever hire an intern?” he asked himself. Reaching into his own drawer, he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and a lollipop. After sticking it in his mouth and sitting for a moment, he sat up in his chair. “Still. Hope she feels better for work tomorrow.”

[Elaine Tonaya]

Jacob Dalton meets Elaine Tonaya

(site canon, written by Dalton and Penny)

The bell to her door rang as a gentleman entered: a man she had not seen before, rather tall, sharply dressed. She hadn't seen anyone wearing a fedora in some time. He glanced around the shop a moment, and gave her a pleasant smile. "Good afternoon. I hope I am not too late in the day, and that you are still open?"

"Still open, for another few minutes at least, and longer than that if you need me. How can I help you?" Elaine brushed her hands off on her apron. She'd been busy replanting a fern into a larger pot, but now she stood and went over to shake hands with the man.

The gentleman extended his hand for a warm, dry handshake, and smiled cordially. "Thank you so much. I shan't require but a few minutes. All I need are perhaps a half dozen rosebuds. If you have any you cannot use for arrangements because stems are spoiled, I am happy to take them: I shan't need more than an inch or so of stem on them?"

The man was smiling, but Elaine smelled that he was having some problems. It wasn't just that he was sad today, more that it was an extended confusion and sadness. Depression. Elaine resolved to be extremelly kind to him. "We can definitely get you those. I have a couple I'd already snipped for some boutonniers." She thought of the cookies behind the counter. "Would you like a sugar cookie? I have extra." She went behind the counter and pulled out the cookies. "I'll just be a moment--let me get the flowers out of the back."


He chuckled. "How kind of you! Your clients come for flowers, and you serve them flour? Further prepared, of course," he joked. He accepted a cookie and nodded. "By all means: the style for boutonniers would be perfect, as long as there are no pins in them. That could be painful!"

Elaine chuckled. "No pins. At least not yet. And really, I just like baking. And what kind of a person would I be if I only baked for myself? Quite rotund, at least, I would imagine." She ducked into the back and sifted through some of the flowers to pick out about eight nice rose buds, then she carried them into the main room. "Here we are. I picked out some of the nicer ones, so all you need do is select which ones you want and we'll wrap them up for you." She laid them all on the counter so he could look.

He nodded. "Indeed: I enjoy baking on occasions myself, but getting the treats eaten can prove difficult if I do not take them out for friends. And this time of year: heavens, let's not even get started!" He checked over the buds carefully, leaving two that were a bit larger or rounder, preferring smaller, thinner buds. "These should do nicely." He held one up in his hand. "And please, do not concern yourself about wrapping them..." a wave of his hand, and the bud was suddenly gone. "that shan't be necessary..."

Elaine was a bit startled at the sleight of hand, but then she laughed and gently clapped her hands. "Very nice. Though you still may want a wet towel, just to keep them fresh. If you feel you need it, just go ahead and get a paper towel and wet it down, then wrap the end of the stem in it. It'll keep the roses bright and beautiful for any performance the rest of the day. You can also place it in the refrigerator, and it should keep pretty well. If that's all you need, then I suppose you're all set." She rang up the charges and smiled brightly. "By the way, I'm Elaine. Will you be at the holiday party tonight?"

He nooded. "A good point with the paper towel: perhaps a small one for the spares. I don't imagine I shall have time for the fridge: the party begins in two hours." He nodded at her introduction. "Jacob Dalton: a pleasure, Elaine. Indeed: that was the very occasion for which I had planned to use them. I take it you shall be going as well? I was uncertain as to whether this was merely a school event or local to the community at large: I suppose you just answered that for me."

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Dalton. Or do you prefer Jacob? I know I was upset when people started referring to me as 'Ms. Tonaya.' Let me know if you'd prefer something else." She went to the register and punched in a few numbers. "Even if it were open to just the school, I'd still probably find a way in, since I know enough people there. But yes, this is open. And I hope to see you there. Perhaps you could perform a little magic for the group. I'm sure you're probably a great magician." She pulled out a few small damp paper towels and wrapped up some of the stems. She smiled again.

"Around my students, naturally I tend to be formal. So I suppose I tend towards Dalton, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to loosen up a bit in the genaral public..." At least it wouldn't now that Deia wasn't around to interpret every casual smile and nod at another lady as flirtation -- why did he even let his mind go there? "Jacob, please: and thank you." He perked up a bit at her mentioning connections with the school. "Oh? You have many friends there?" Eventually, he thought it possible he might as well. "And actually, I rather suspect the opportunity for a little sleight of hand may come up. Just a few parlor tricks, mind you, but enough to be entertaining." He put the Fedora back on, preparing to go. "So nice meeting you. Perhaps we shall spot each other at the party."

"Nice to meet you Jacob. Have a good time, and I hope to see you tonight." She waved. "Don't forget to take another cookie when you go." She smiled as he left, then a small frown appeared. He seemed to be having some problems, and she hoped he would be able to sort it out. Maybe she should suggest the psychiatrist at the school or something. She'd heard from Morgan that he was pretty good. Then she shrugged and went back to her work, first going to the door and locking it, closing up shop for the night.

[Jordan Scholl]

The Truth about Courage

Jordan was online trying to catch up on all of his social networking. He spent a good two hours on SpaceBook, playing games and chatting with all of his friends from back home. Finally he decided it might be a good idea to send a letter to his parents. Or if not a letter, at least an email.

So it was with a reluctant sigh that he said goodbye to his friends and clicked over to his home webpage so he could pull up his internet account. Before he could get to his email, however, he noticed the news story that was being displayed.

Boy Hailed as Tragic Hero in Australia Floods: A 13-year-old’s sacrifice to save his brother’s life strikes a chord around the world

For no apparent reason whatsoever, Jordan clicked on the link. The story was about 13-year-old Jordan Rice, who had been caught in the flood with his brother and mother. When the rescuer came, Jordan Rice had told them to take his eight-year-old brother, Blake, first. By the time Blake was safe, Jordan and his mother were gone. Not only that, but Jordan had been terrified of water. He was a hero for what he did.

Jordan Scholl sat back and looked at the screen, stunned. A kid the same age as him, with the same name, and with just a younger brother, eight years old. As he thought about it, his own little brother’s face swam into his memory. Joshua, smiling, throwing snowballs and playing Monopoly, shoving string beans up his nose and laughing at all the bathroom humor; what if it had been them who had been caught in the flood? And what if it had been their mom, swept away by the river?

For a few minutes, Jordan just stared at the computer. Then he finally went back to his email and composed a letter to his family.

“Hey everyone! Just writing to say I’m doing well here. Everything is going fine. Just know that I miss you. Take care of yourselves, okay? Who knows what kind of trouble you might get into while I’m gone, right? Anyway, Hammel is great, and the uncles have been really cool this whole time. My roommates are pretty neat, too. One of them is actually in a wheelchair, but he never lets it stop him. Anyway, I should probably stop now, but I really just want you all to know that I love you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you guys. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay? And Josh, stop shoving food up your nose. It’s bad for your health. –Jordan”

[JD Paerson]

A Couple Shorts


This Valentine’s Day, JD had a mission. There was someone that he loved, but he hadn’t told her. He knew he needed to make his feelings known, so he spent all day worrying about how he was going to approach the subject. Finally, after starting five letters and twenty emails, he decided to just go ahead and call. Nervously, he punched in the number and waited. When he heard her voice on the other end, he almost hung up again. Instead, he swallowed hard and said, “Hey, it’s JD. I’m just calling to say....” And the words that had been blocked up for the past 4 years in the back of his throat, never being voiced, finally came. “I love you, Mom.”



Dear Zac, you are an annoying nincompoop with a brain the size of a pinhead. However, despite all this, and perhaps because of this, you are the only person who has been willing to spend more than a few minutes in my presence. Despite the knowledge that it will swell your head beyond belief, I am attempting this year to acknowledge that there have been people in my life who have helped me, and as one of those people, you deserve to be thanked. In short, and so that your miniscule intellect can understand exactly what I am saying…. Thanks for being my friend. -JD

[Leila Gold]

So. This was kind of a request. I'm putting in the original story this was based off, as well as a few disclaimers. The original story is written by Dryope in response to a prompt created by Tony and based on a crackship created by Jammers. The even crackier ending is mine.



42. Doom

The RV was overgrown with kudzu and beginning to rust; peeling letters on the side proclaimed it The Majestic, a once noble camper used by a happy family. There was no longer a side door, but the weeds choking the vehicle made a decent enough cover for the people living within.

"You've lost your goddamned mind," The shortest of the men grumbled, fidgeting with the gun shoved through his belt. It would be little good against the men they were hiding from, not unless they had the element of surprise, but it made him feel safer; the gun may have been ineffectual in practice, but it was also a real weapon. His shadows weren't.

The tallest of the group shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't like it," His voice barely audible, though the worry creasing his face was clear enough. His left hand toyed with his own weapon; his right hand was missing, along with most of the arm up to the elbow. It had been blown off during one of their early excursions, forcing him to stay behind. He was more useful back at the van, anyway; they had little use for a dead healer.

"We have to do it." It was clear who was the leader of the group. He was tall, grey haired and face lined with worry and stress as well as age. "They know where the others are."

That was news. The short man compressed his mouth into a thin line. "How do you know?" He demanded, and their leader tapped the side of his head. The man with the one arm looked sadly at the remainder of their rag-tag little group. Few were left: Yulia had blown herself up with a good number of the enemy. Midori and her son had vanished without a trace, and Eli had stopped reporting in only three days after going on a search mission. Clarisse and Dalton had returned from a mission only yesterday -- in pieces. Mason had sawed off his own head. It was dangerous to oppose Underwood and Kilbourne.


Their numbers were dwindling. They could barely keep themselves safe, let alone their charges. Up until now, they'd thought the children were safely in hiding. It had been a hassle, hiding all those students away from the prying eyes of Underwood and his cohorts, but it had been done. Alan had asked around, called in a few favors from buskers and hobos he'd known during his drifter days. An abandoned train station had seemed safe. Safer than out here in the woods, just kilometers away from Underwood's mansion. And it wasn't as if the children were alone. They had Elaine, who could smell danger. And Emiko and Vincent had remained with the students, a second chance at keeping the hounds at bay should the guerrilla's attempt fail.

"But how did they find out?" A fourth man pushed himself away from the wall, beginning to pace in agitation. "Nobody should have found it. It was well-hidden. They had Vincent. They had Emiko. They had Willow."

A young-looking African-American woman pursed her lips into a frown. "That's right, they shouldn't've been able to find them, Sean. Is there....did someone...."

Sean closed his eyes for a moment, clearly steadying himself. "They caught Elaine."

There was a swift intake of breath, and then the short man propelled himself over to Sean's side. His eyes were narrowed, but the hand on the butt of his gun was white. "Lainey." His voice was taut with grief; neither Underwood nor Kilbourne were known for letting their prisoners live.

"I'm sorry, Cobalt." It was soft, inaudible to all but the man directly beside him. Sean placed one hand comfortingly on Cobalt's shoulder, though it drifted lower as he gazed out at their compatriots. "We'll avenge her."

Cobalt nodded once, jerkily. He would make Underwood pay himself.

----

The rebels huddled on the outskirts of the woods, looking down at the mansion that housed Gabriel Underwood and his paramour Chase Kilbourne. Cobalt's fingers strayed to brush against his gun, but another hand caught his.

"Our chances of success are slim."

The shadow manipulator glanced to the side, a humorless grin playing across his face. "This was your idea, you dummy." He whispered in return.

"If there were any other option I would take it." The telepath responded, lacing his fingers through the smaller man's. "We simply have no choice. If the children are to have any chance at all..."

Cobalt's features changed from grim to inquisitive.

"Distraction. Emiko and the others are moving them."

A curt nod showed he understood. "Better us old farts than them." He twisted to face Sean, his expression softening. The telepath looked like hell, covered in weeks worth of grime and blood and sweat. He didn't smell any better. Cobalt imagined if he looked in a mirror he would see something similar; none of their group were too clean after living so long in a broken down camper in the woods. "Then this is it." He took a fortifying breath, reaching up with his free hand to run his fingers through Sean's greying hair. "The end."

Sean nodded in agreement. "Most likely."

"So much for a children and a white picket fence." Cobalt murmured. "You know, we didn't do this romance thing right at all. The woods and war don't exactly make my heart flutter."

"We're doing the right thing," Sean assured him.

"I know that, you big dummy." And Cobalt leaned forward, drawing Sean's head down until they met in a kiss.

For a moment they weren't crouched on wet pine straw, ready to attack the best armed anti-human organization this side of the Mississippi. For a moment they weren't about to rush to their certain demise for the slim prospect of their students escaping the clutches of Underwood. For a moment they were two men in love. That was all.

And then the moment was over. Cobalt pulled back reluctantly, reclaiming his hands. "See you on the other side." He saluted Sean with his gun, blue eyes sad behind oval frames.

Sean nodded once, and the little group streamed over the hillside, toward the mansion. Toward Underwood and Kilbourne and certain doom.



AND THEN (in case that wasn't cracky enough, and just to spoil the intense emotion)…

After a car crash on her way home to visit her parents and a brush with death, Leila had decided that she wanted to see more of the world before she died. While she was still young and able to move around, she took the opportunity to go on a trip around the world. She told Cobalt she would be gone for a year, packed up her bags, and left for Tibet.

This was just before the world of Pilot Ridge exploded in a conflict between good and evil.

The news didn’t reach Leila’s ears until several months had passed and the community back home was already in total chaos. Many people were dead, many more missing, and, most startling of all, her old partner Cobalt had started dating Sean Neville. She was in Kenya when the letter finally reached her, begging her not to come home but stay where she was safe.

“Pshaw, Blue,” she said as she read the letter. “Since when have I ever followed your instructions?”

She hadn’t been idle while she was traveling. Every opportunity she had to train with another fighter or with another aerokinetic had allowed her to expand her power. She was now capable of going on short flights without causing extreme damage to all of her surroundings, and in addition, she could channel her wind into bullet-like pellets that could penetrate solid objects. In short, she was ready for this battle.

Just to be on the safe side, though, she decided to go in with a little bit of extra help.

Just as Cobalt, Sean, and the rest of their tiny group were preparing to head over the hill and toward what they believed was going to be their final destiny, the special military helicopter landed between the two armies. The ramp lowered, revealing Leila riding an African Elephant.

“Hello boys, miss me?” she said with a grin to her friends. Then she turned to look at the bad guys on the opposite hill. “And as for you…” Here she did a trick with the air that allowed her voice to carry and grow as it went. “No one messes with my friends! Xolani, troops, attack!” She screamed and held her spear-bearing fist into the air. From behind her emerged a gorgeous young Kenyan man—the kind you might find on the front cover of a romance novel—riding a lion. With him came children riding on ostriches, all of them metahuman and ready to take on a new foe.

Gabriel and his fellow conspirators had never seen anything like this, and they turned tail and dashed into the woods. The ostriches found them, though, and kicked them all until they were the ones burying their heads in the sand. Then they rounded up all the bad guys and put them in special containers where they couldn’t use their powers. When this was all done, Leila took one look at them and said it was good.

She went over to her old friends and stood in front of them. “What do you think you are doing?” she said, crossing her arms. “You’re too beat up to go into a fight. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Cobalt stared at her in surprise. He was about to speak, but she cut him off.

“And another thing, since when did you start dating that one? Weren’t you mortal enemies or something?”

“Well, I—“

“The enemy is captured and we await your orders, Golden One,” said the man who had come with her, still riding his lion. “Who are these men? Should we capture them as well?”

Sean stepped protectively in front of Cobalt, who shoved the taller man and mumbled something on the order of “I can take care of myself.”

“No, these are my friends. We don’t capture them, though they might need a stern talking-to. They sure made a mess of things here.”

All that was left of Team Good Guys quaked in the presence of Leila’s stare.

Xolani—that’s the name of the hot African guy—looked at Sean and Cobalt, who clung to each other with weariness and a bit of nervousness. “What’s up with those two?” he asked finally.

[Leila Gold]

Saying Goodbye

Former Illinois State Senator Leila Jordan (nee Gold) died at the age of 84 last Monday, August 8, 2067, in her hospital room at St. George’s in Chicago. She leaves behind two sons, Jonathan and Terrence Jr., five grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. She will be greatly missed by her friends, family, and all the people she helped through her long life.

The tiny hospital room was crowded with people. A tiny, frail old woman lay in the bed hooked up to a dozen monitors. There were some people who were crying, and there were a lot of balloons and other decorations scattered about.

Two men, both in their early fifties, stood nearest the bed while their wives stood behind them. They looked at their mother, but despite the fact that they had tears streaming down their faces, they were smiling.

“Oh, and did I ever tell you the story about the time I managed to win my first big case? I was working with Blue at the time—angry old bugger, he was, though he had a heart of gold in the end, and ended up being a very good father to his little girls, too. He always spoiled them, the littlest one, especially. And that Ben, I wanted to throttle him most of the time for not standing up to the old guy. You can’t let the cranky ones get away with anything, that’s what I say, otherwise they walk all over you. You just have to go right up to them and say ‘Now this is the way it is going to be, have a chocolate bar and be gone with you,’ and then you boot them right out the door. That was how I got hired, you know, was by bribing him. That was the best job, the best first job…I miss that old man. Where in the world did he get to, anyway? Ah, it doesn’t matter. Oh, but do you know about the door? It was always broken, you see, and I was so busy repainting it. Then later when I was a senator, I wanted to go paint my own door, but they said no, you can’t do that in the capital. You have to leave it looking respectable-like. But then what’s respectable about simple stick-on letters? Nothing, I say, it’s just to make it all uniform. And you know what I think about uniforms.”

Fortunately for the family, they already knew these stories, otherwise they might be lost in the torrent of information being thrown at them. The past few years had been tough, as the Alzheimer’s progressed, and the past few months had been so bad that all the stories simply ran together. Most of what she still remembered was about the old days, her time as a lawyer and some parts about her term as senator. If she was pushed, she could tell that the people around her were very important, but she couldn’t exactly give names for all of them.

She kept mistaking Terrence Jr. for his father and asked to hold his hand more than anyone else’s.

If you asked any of the people who knew her, they could tell you about her cheerfulness, her friendliness, and her intelligence. She could beat anyone in a debate when she was in her prime, and she had a good sense of humor to boot. She was happy, nice, funny, helpful, and trustworthy. She was the kind of person you always wanted to have on your side, and you never really wanted to go against her. This was probably the gun-waving, Bible-belt Texan in her.

What people sometimes forgot, though they all depended on it in their own way, was her strength. She didn’t like to talk about the liver failure and the near-death experience, not even to mention how much it had helped her to grow. It showed her vulnerability, and she could never let herself be seen as weak. She had too many people depending on her. And through all the trials and difficulties that came, she always did her best to not let anything get to her. Or to at least never let it show.

“I don’t think I ever told you,” she was remarking, more to herself than anyone else, “what it’s like, having this power. See, I know a lot of people were out there trying to expand their power, to develop it and make themselves stronger. Then there were others who had to rein it in, to keep back everything that they could do.” Jonathan looked down at his mother. He didn’t remember her talking about this side of her powers ever before, at least not with him. He looked up at his brother, who shrugged.

The old woman took a big breath, then gave a little laugh. “Mine was a big power. That’s why I got the headaches. And why I could never really get rid of the wind. I mean, I had a whole element floating through my head. The only way I could live with it was to give in just a little, to give it a personality and make it my friend. All the while I had to hold back. And I’m just glad I was never near a tornado.” She laughed again, but it turned into a wheeze. The heart monitors started beeping more rapidly. A few of the guests in the room looked worriedly at the screen.

“You know,” she said, when she’d regained her breath, “I think it may have actually changed the wind. It was a friend, and I was its friend. I think it held itself back for me. And when I have to go, I’ll ask if it will leave this area alone. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

The heart monitor was slowing again. Slowing, past the point of being normal.

“I never got to find out how big it was,” the old woman whispered. “I had always hoped to find out….” In a moment of clarity, she looked at her two sons. Her blue eyes were shining with recognition and with tears, but not with sadness. There was only peace.

Her two sons each held one of her hands, and they both felt a slight squeeze before the monitors went blank completely. When the nurses ran in, everyone stepped back, but they all knew it was over. They’d felt it the moment when she had left the room, because she took something with her.

It wasn’t something you noticed until it was gone. Some people would’ve said it was just that her breezy companion was gone. Those who were there said it was something else, something that was…Leila.

WILD WINDS (8 August 2067)-Scattered news reports the world over have commented on an unusual amount of turbulent gusts at all approximately the same time. In some instances these created large amounts of damage, though this was mainly in rural areas. The only area said not to have been affected by this was the windy city itself, Chicago Illinois, which experienced a complete deadening of the air for approximately ten minutes. Weather experts are attempting to come up with an explanation for the events, though the current opinion is that it relates to the recent changes in the atmospheric conditions. No deaths have been reported from these events, but the eyewitness reports seem to imply that there was something “eerie” about the wind. “I thought I heard someone moaning,” mentioned Dottie Gibson from Kansas, but Kenneth Baker of California gave what is agreed upon by many observers to be the most accurate description. “It’s like, for just a moment, the wind itself was crying.”

[JD Paerson]

It's Storytime!


Once upon a time, there were three little pigs--

"Hey, I resent that!"

"What? It's not like it's a personal comment or anything."

"I dunno, I thought it was pretty astute."

"I'll have you know, I take my personal hygiene very--"

ONCE UPON A TIME.

"Ooh, now you've gone and made the narrator mad."

"So what? Not like they can do anything."

"Yes they can. They're narrating. They could do anything. Like have you chopped up and eaten.'

"Better not. I don't taste very good."

THERE WERE THREE--

"But honestly, none of us are very small, and I don't think either of you like being insulted, either."

FAIRLY AVERAGE-SIZED PINK MAMMALS WITH SNOUTS AND FOUR LEGS AND CURLY TAILS.

Happy now?

"Well, I still don't exactly see the compar--"

"Oh for godssake, shut up, Zac!"

In any case, these three had been kicked out of their previous lodging--three guesses why--and now each had to find a new place to stay.

The first...litt...ani...one. The first one decided to build his house out of straw.

"Wait, why am I building a house?"

You need a place to stay.

"Why don't I just crash with Es--"

JUST BUILD THE HOUSE.

"But why do I have to use straw?"

It, uh...matches your hair.

"Hard to work with, though. I might as well try to build a house of cards, or of clouds."

Even better.

"Wait, that wasn't a suggest--"

And then there was this wolf, see. And she was kind of ill-tempered and intent on knocking down the dreams of all sorts of young romantics. She was terrifying despite her tiny stature.

"What the--How the hell did I end up here?"

"It's a fic thing. Just go with it--it finishes faster this way. Here, I think you're meant to put these on."

"...Wolf ears?"

"Don't ask me, I'm not the one writing this."

So this wolf went to the first...character, who had built a house out of happy thoughts and warm feelings, and she said...

"..."

Go on, say it.

"**** you."

Look, you can do this the easy way or the hard way, but I swear to you, this story will happen.

"Not with me. Go stick your head in a blender. I'm out of here."

No. Get back here, you can't leave. You have no understudy!

"Ooh, I could do it!"

No, you're guy number two.

"I could do both!"

No, Mia has to play the villain.

"I said *** off."

...I'll take it. And then our wee young architect, snug in his house said...

Said...

"Your line, Robbie."

"Wait, what?"

"Ooh, I'll say it!"

Shut up, it's not your turn!

"It's, 'not by the hair on my--'"

"Hey, has he even got hair there?"

"Oh my what?"

CHIN. On your CHINNY-CHIN-CHIN.

"Oh, really? I always thought that was symbolic for something else...oh well. Not by the...would you stop grinning at me like that, Keystone? It's creepy."

"Deal with it. Can't help it if you guys are a riot."

AND THEN SHE HUFFED.

"Oh, right, the story. Okay, um...stay out, evil wolf! You can't get me, I'm snug in my...haystack..."

And she puffed.

"Hee. Hey Mia, when did you become a steam engine and start smoking?"

"Hey Zac, when did your balls migrate to your throat?"

And she BLEW the house down.

"Yeah, right, that means this is over, right?"

So the first little pig ran as fast as he could, easily outdistancing the wolf with her short legs--

"I heard that, you--"

And made it safely to the house of the second of the three, who had built a house of sticks.

"Wait, what? Sticks? But that's so...primitive! Not to mention tacky. No, I refuse to live in a house like that."

What do you suggest, then?

"Allow me. Ahem. The second, stately and regal figure, had hired people to build built a house of cedar and mahogany and tastefully decorated it with--"

Don't you think that's enough?

"But I didn't get to the gold-lined--"

Then the wolf arrived at the mansion of wood that was still rather flimsy, and she said:

"Hey Zac, you stupid pig, lemme in so I can loot the place and steal all your money, then take the pictures of you whining about it like a huge baby and post them all over the internet.

...

"What? Isn't that what you wanted?"

Oookay. And then he said:

"Hey, wait, you're going to let her get away with that?"

Feel free to insult her. Just keep the story moving.

"Well fine! I wouldn't let Keystone into my house if she begged me. I'd be afraid of all the other bugs she'd bring in."

"Psh. My bugs aren't as scary as yours. You've got all the diseases already."

"That's a lie. I got tested. I just think you're jealous because at least I get dates, and people like me, which is more than I can say for you."

"I don't need people to like me. And as for the sex..."

"Um, guys?"

"Yeah? What about it, Keystone?"

"All I'm saying is yours is the only house here I haven't been invited into."

"All right, that's enough--"

"Hold up, JD. Is she saying what I think she's saying?"

"Guys?"

"Look, it's not what you think..."

"What, you trying to say now that you didn't come knocking..."

"Guys?"

"Shut up!"

"Bringing your peace offering..."

"Guys!"

"And practically begging..."

"GUYS!"

"WHAT, ROBBIE?!"

"I think it's growing."

"What is--oh."

"****"

AND THEN.

"Are narrators even supposed to be visible?"

"Ssh."

"Psh. Can't do anything to me. So you can just--"

A BOMB FELL ON EVERYTHING AND THE WHOLE WORLD EXPLODED AND THEN IMPLODED AND THERE WERE NO MORE VOICES AND THE NARRATOR LIVED.

HAPPILY.

EVER.

AFTER.





"Wow, that was impressive."

"Shut up, you moron, you're supposed to be dead."

"Oh, right. Got it."

"***ing idiots."