March Writing Challenge: 100 Stories. 1 Month

[Vincent Meian]

#100 - Immortality

One has to pay dearly for immortality; one has to die several times while one is still alive.

Friedrich Nietzsche

The man in black walked a lonely road, and the ghosts of the past followed him.

The world had turned into a colder and more bitter place in his absence; the wars had all but destroyed it, making every city a graveyard of twisted iron and crumbling concrete. The days had needed to come, and now that they had... there was nothing left. Nothing but memories deep as ancient wounds.

The road ended in a deserted town; a small place deep in the mountains where only a few wild animals now dared to tread. Despite the relatively small size of this place in the middle of nowhere, signs of the war marred this land as bad as any major city with one exception. All of that damage was made by darker forces than weaponry. The streets had been torn asunder by roiling earth and vicious plants (which now grew without restraint), buildings had crumpled under the force of unseen pressures and infernos generated by thought, and underneath everything there rested the eternal stain of bloodshed.

"What has become of you?" the man whispered, his lips and voice dry as paper as shaded eyes scanned the forgotten horrors. His tone held neither surprise nor anger - just a deep regret that he had missed the chance to change... something.

The man in black continued to walk, stepping over debris and around craters as he made his way further through the town. He did not stray too far from the main road - to many memories resided that way, and this was not the time to revisit them. There were more important matters to attend to.

The time that passed went unnoticed by the traveler, though it was nearly an hour before he reached his intended destination. Wrought iron gates that had been twisted to scrap lay discarded beside pockmarked marble, and beyond that... the last refuge he'd had before his journey. The dark man turned his eyes to a dented and faded plaque, covered in dust and grime from the years, and ran his hand over it softly. The dirt stuck to his scarred fingers, leaving trails of brass in the wake of their disturbed rest. He brushed his hand over the surface again, and weathered letters appeared in a fanciful scrawl on the metal.

The Hammel Institute for Meta-Human Students
Founded 1920 Pilot Ridge, Vermont

He sensed them before they had even made a move. He'd trained too hard to let himself be caught in a moment of reminiscence, so when the first poorly constructed air blade attacked his turned back, the man in black had already moved. His fingers felt the thrum of ancient strings beneath them as he dodged blow after blow, both those from visible attackers and those using superhuman abilities. All together, he counted four, though he knew there would be at least one more on the way or in the shadows. They were very good; likely because they had to be in order to survive.

He was better.

A close call struck the tinted lenses from his face, and the man in black looked into the eyes of his female opponent, catching her dual-colored eyes in his golden gaze as his fingers plucked that invisible string. Immediately, he saw the vision take effect; she stopped short and looked around sharply, seeing her adversary disappear without a moment's warning. Fortunately for her, he was in a forgiving mood. He knocked her unconscious with a swift blow to the back of her head.

Others would not have been so lenient.

The second fighter fell as easily as the first, though at a meager cost of the man in black's tattered coat. The windshaper's blades had torn it from his frame and shredded any defense it may have given as he had forced the armored man the ground and locked him in a vision of being underwater. (He would be fine, but the panic had paralyzed him for the time being.) Seeing that he would have to give up the fight for time being, the man stood and looked to the now visible aerokinetic. Though she had grown much older in the passing years, he still recognized her once-innocent face.

"I request that you do not destroy my clothing, Miss Birdsong," he stated, his voice calling like distant thunder.

Her expression quickly changed to shock, but before he could act on it, the man in black was distracted by a fiery man who held an orb of pure combustion in his hand. The blonde glowered at the man, and the intent was clear. With a cursory nod, he removed the shredded outerwear and the once-white scarf from around his face. He had barely taken off the hat covering his decidedly long hair when both elementalists started further.

"M... Mr. Meian?" the aeromancer gasped, her eyes wide and doe-like, as they had been in her youth. The man in black looked to her and nodded once, confirming her suspicions.

"But that's impossible," the other stated, anger touching at his words. "You vanished off the face of the earth almost twenty years ago! Where've you been all this time?"

"Mr. Larson, if I told you that, you would not believe me."

There was a groan from the crumpled figure on the ground, and the armored man let out a gasp as the vision faded from his sights. Honey-colored eyes gave him a brief glance before the tallest of them kneeled before the waking female. Her eyes fluttered open, and an eye matching in shade to his own looked up at him in dazed wonder.

"I am sorry for hurting you, Appoline. I did not intend to fight you of all people."

"F-Father?"

He nodded once, then looked up sharply as he detected a brush of psychic energy across his mental shields. The touch, however, seemed to intentionally catch his attention, and after a moment of focus, the grim man smiled. It was a strange expression on his face after so long.

"I see that he is still alive." Helping the Asian woman to her feet as the other two aided their additional fighter, the man in black looked to them all. "I assume you all now know why I am here and who I am."

The lot of them looked to each other and nodded. "Good. Then let us hold audience with the headmaster. I have news to tell him."

"This place isn't a school anymore," stated the armored man, now free of his silvery form and glowering at the intruder. "We don't have a headmaster."

"I would imagine not, Mr. Buckland," answered the traveler coldly. "But what other title does such a man deserve in a place once reserved for learning?"

There was no answer, and the five walked the road unto the courtyard and entered the decrepit building. Much had been patched with scraps from the town, though whole areas still looked to be in the wake of devastation. The psychic beacon was easy enough to follow, even for a non-psychic like himself; this man wanted to be found, and he would likely not take "no" for an answer. Not this time.

The door they arrived at was not the headmaster's office, but instead the library, and the door opened under the pyromancer's hand, his eyes giving the man in black a look of deep suspicion before letting him into the room. Inside, it was apparent that a number of people lived and studied in this hall, though only one person sat reading at a table. He was a man well into his eighties, his short hair white all the way through and his face lined with every memory. A wedding band of simple gold rested on his old finger, and startlingly blue eyes looked up to the tall man as he smiled.

"I was wondering when you'd finally come back."

"My apologies, Dr. Neville. I meant to return much sooner."

"I know. Time simply slips by so fast, doesn't it?"

"More than you could guess."

The elderly man chuckled and closed the book, taking the pair of reading glasses he'd been using off his nose to polish them. "A lot has happened, you know."

"I do. Though I do not know it all."

"Then sit, and we will talk. Tanner, Romeo, Juniper; you three return to your rounds. Appoline, please see to your sister before you do. She was quite anxious." The four of them nodded and left the room quietly, each of them glancing back with a different emotion etched into their middle-aged features. The man in black watched them go, then moved closer and knelt beside the older man.

"How did it end?"

"Poorly. But so end all such wars." By the tone of the psychiatrist, there was no victor; only casualties. Still, he smiled again as he looked closer at the traveler. "Well, I never thought it would happen, Vincent, but you don't look a day older than the day you vanished."

"Another side-effect, it seems," the man in black explained. "I do not age while chasing the threads, nor in the worlds in which I travel to. Only my home has the honor of leading me to death."

The elderly man chuckled, shaking his head. "Now I'm glad you left when you did; I'd hate to imagine what would have happened iof they'd gotten you, too."

"Is the world not already enough of a terrible place?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. There is still some good in this life. You've seen it with your own eyes, haven't you?"

It wasn't a question, and therefore did not need an answer. Instead, an offering was made. "Do you wish to finally know where I come from, Sean?"

"Is it peaceful?"

"As peaceful as a world populated by fools such as we can be."

"Then I confess I am tempted. Do they miss you there?"

"No. When I am gone, it is for mere hours if at all. And you are still many years younger."

"Ahh, I forget that your thread moves more slowly than ours. Speaking of that, I am afraid we may have to cut our conversations short. Your time is almost up."

"Yes, this is true."

"Perhaps you should not have used your abilities on Romeo or your daughter?"

"Perhaps."

"Well, then I shall not hinder you. To keep you longer would be cruel to your true family."

"I thank you, my friend."

"Until next time."


-----


Vincent Meian opened his eyes to a summer's day in an apple orchard, staring around as the wind whipped through the trees and tugged at the damaged cloth in his grip. He stood from his kneeling position, breathed deeply of the clean summer air, then turned his golden eyes on the man he had known would be there.

"I hope you did not wait long."

Sean Neville shook his head, smiling at his friend and coworker. "Not at all. You were only of by a matter of minutes. If I had been on time, you would have arrived unseen." His eyes dropped to the tattered cloth, then back to the steady gaze. "There was trouble?"

"There is often trouble."

"What did you see?"

"Something that will not come to pass here. Not with your adversary dead and his students under my watch."

"I see. Well, there is some good news, then." Vincent chuckled slightly and shifted the remains of the jacket over his shoulder. The day was barely half over, and yet he longed to be home cooking dinner for his still-living family. The family that he would not lose in this reality.

"Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?"

Sean nodded. "That was the plan, after all."

"Good. I believe I will need to speak with someone about this false immortality concept. It is very strange and I am not sure I understand it."

"I'm not sure anyone really does," came the amused answer. "But, I can certainly talk with you about it, if it bothers you so much."

"...No. Today is the time for the present."

"Wise words."

[Calliope Gallo]

67. Desire

Calliope found it very difficult to detangle herself from someone she didn't want to. She had completely wrapped herself up in everything that Valerie was. Her breath was hot against her skin, heavily exhaling past her lips as she tried her best to slow her heart-rate now that things were, well, done. Again. But before Valerie would venture to move away (she was always the first to), Callie kept hold of her. At least until one of them stopped shaking.

Callie brushed the strands of dark hair out of her eyes successfully, despite the way it clung from the sweat on her forehead. She pressed a kiss to her collarbone. What started as one soon became a trail as she ran her lips glided along her neck. Just when she thought she wouldn't get a reaction, she felt Valerie crane her neck slightly, As if to accept and in some way... Want the blonde to continue.

"I... Missed you..." Callie breathed. She felt Valerie freeze once the words hit her ear. Callie hauled herself up, glancing down at her. Her dark eyes were staring at her with disbelief. And some choice negative additives. Calliope dropped her head with a sigh, rolling to the side to create some distance and let the other woman make her escape.

Which, true to form, she started instantly.

"Why would you say that?" Valerie shot, turning away from her and searching for her clothes. Callie peered over her shoulder at her back, watching with anticipation as she hauled a tank top over her head and flared her hair out of the neck. The corner of the blonde's mouth twitched, refusing to make a smile or a frown.

"Because it's... True?"

"Calliope." Valerie said sternly. When most people said her full name it generally irked Callie. But there was something about the way it rolled off her tongue that made it sound absolutely wondrous, even if it was in a slightly scolding way. Callie raised her chin slightly, determined not to let her passion for someone who so beautifully recited her previously despised Greek name overtake her.

Callie finally tore her eyes away from the miraculously breathtaking form of the other woman in the room, determined to follow suit and put her own clothes back on. Why'd she wear such skin tight jeans? They were ridiculously difficult to put back on when trying to get away. Especially when she felt like a total idiot for saying something with so much emotion.

"Nothing." She replied after a short time, as if the way she said her name had sunk in in a completely different way. After wriggling into her jeans, she was determined to grab her shirt and get the hell out of there. She curled her arms through the straps of her bra, finding difficulty in putting the clasp back together given how aggressively it had been ripped from her chest not too long ago. She finally took a chance and glanced over towards Valerie again. She was perfectly re-dressed. Damn her.

The way Valerie looked at her made it clear she knew the blonde girl was lying. She had always been a terrible liar. So she sighed, running a hand through her hair to try and straighten it out after pulling her shirt down over her form; "You love Noah," She recited, as she had time and time again, "I know you do."

"And you're not exactly ever planning to leave Lucah. It's obvious how much you love him." She reasoned. At a loss for what to say, Callie initially nodded. Lucah had always done right by her; he'd always been there for her when she needed and even when she didn't. He put up with her brothers to the point where they even became friends, united in their overwhelming sense of protection for her.

Callie was severely glad Noah and Lucah never really liked each other - it made avoiding this all the easier; "Yeah, that's true."

"Exactly. Don't force the talk again, Callie." Valerie sighed, turning away, "We both know neither of us are ever going to do anything."

Calliope frowned, even if the expression never really suited her. It ended up looking like a kicked puppy crossed with big wide kitten eyes. Her frowns looked more upsetting than rage-inducing. "Okay. Fine." She said lightly, not daring enough to push the issue.

"You don't think so?" She asked. Callie didn't answer right away. She sighed again, inwardly so it wouldn't be so loud. She wasn't frustrated. With small steps, she closed the distance between herself and the dark haired woman. And tentatively, she leaned forward to press her lips lightly against her shoulder.

"I agree with you." She admitted, her lips burning the words into her skin at the proximity. She lingered for a moment longer before finally stepping to the side and walking towards the door.

She stopped for a second, glancing back over her shoulder; "Bye. I really hope I mean it this time."

"Yeah," Valerie replied, smiling weakly, "Me too."

[Hatsuharu Kenjutsushi]

7. Hold

"You can't take me!"

"It will be alright. Just calm down."

"No! You don't understand! Don't let them take me. Don't you dare let him touch me!"

"Kazuki. Son. You have to go. He'll help you, I promise."

"You have my word, sir," Hatsuharu interjected softly. He hadn't planned on getting involved in the short altercation between father and son, but it seemed it was deemed necessary. "No harm will come to you. I'm only here to help."

"You can't..." The child started again, breathing heavily."You can't help me!"

"Kazuki." Hatsuharu began. Between them was a hardwood door. He would likely be able to get through the barrier if he needed to, but it seemed foolish to scare an already frightened child with such force.. Hatsu turned his attention to the boys father, tilting his head sharply to indicate that he should leave. And after a thoughtful moment or two, he did. "Your father is in the other room. I wanted to talk to you privately."

"Why? What're you gonna do!"

"Nothing."

"Don't hurt my father! I swear I'll-"

"I won't. I swear." Hatsu pressed his hands to the door, resting his forehead against it. He was thinking. Kinetic Explosions. Stress-induced, it seemed. He glanced into the living room where Kazuki's father sat in view in an armchair. He seemed to be looking out the window, captivated. "Are you under a lot of pressure? To succeed... To overachieve... To... Learn to run the household one day?"

Silence from the other side. "How did you know?"

"First born boys usually panic about that. Even if they have things like older sisters," Hatsu admitted, a soft laugh escaping him, "I have an older sister. And yet my father tried to groom me to run the household. She's much better at it than I am."

He heard a quiet laugh escape the body on the other side of the door.

"What I'm offering is a place away from here. A place that will help you find control. What you have is... Incredibly powerful. And dangerous, if not trained correctly." Hatsu explained. He leaned back slowly, looking at the floor to see a shadow overcome the space underneath the door. He was standing on the other side now.

"My father really wants me to go?"

"He agrees that it would be best. I'm sorry, Kazuki, but you unfortunately have no choice. This is best for you."

More silence. It felt like it went on for an eternity, but Hatsu complied with it. He obviously needed time to think. He raised his hands from the wood of the door, watching curiously until he heard the latch move.

"Wait." Kazuki said harshly. Hatsu placed his hand on the door, but lifted away again when he realised how painfully hot it was. What happened next was almost too difficult to track; he heard broken glass and a sharp explosion, turned around and looked to find the father missing from his chair.

There was an altercation behind the door. Hatsu quickly grabbed the handle again and despite the burning he hauled it open. When it opened, Kazuki crashed into Hatsu, clinging to the white-blonde man for dear life. Hatsuharu held onto him for as long as he needed, and neither strayed from the doorway for what felt like hours.

The window had been eroded by an explosion. He later found that on the other side was the boy's father, pierced several times by shards of glass. When Kazuki finally spoke about it, he explained that he'd tried to break in and threaten the boy when his patience wore thin.

Given it was Hatsuharu's first recruitment, well... He'd never forget it.

Nor would Nik; she had to be the one to patch his scolded hand when he finally returned home.

[Valerie Danner]

#61 - Sigh

Flashbacks of last night sporadically entered Valerie's mind as she tried to get her breath in check, her fingers buried in Calliope's hair. Her spasms were still occurring and each time brought her fingers clasping at least one part of the blonde's body.

She didn't want to let Calliope go. The moment was much too perfect. But like the last time, it had to end. And soon.

Valerie closed her eyes and sighed softly when Calliope pushed her hair off her face, shivering when her kisses started up her neck. A soft moan escaped her lips as she moved her neck to accommodate the blonde's lips. She could feel the burning stir at the pit of her stomach, one leg twitching to move against the blond to grasp the already dying moments of what they shared just minutes ago.

But Calliope said the words she didn't want to hear. Not because it was wrong but because she felt them too. Because wanted to say it herself. Because it wasn't fair to the blonde man waiting at home for her to come back from her conference.

When the young meta moved away, Valerie almost pulled her back but she knew she shouldn't. She instead focused on getting dressed. Getting back to the man she had started to build a life with.

"Why would you say that?" her voice shook as she tried not to let the tears cloud her vision. She didn't want to hear Calliope's answer because she knew it was what she herself wanted to say. She shouldn't have asked, now that she thought about it. The blonde always unwittingly knew what to say.

The response seemed so simple yet they both knew the implications behind those words. Valerie sighed once more before calling out Calliope's name in reprimand. It held in it a mixture of anger, of confusion with a hint of desire and desperation. She gulped inaudibly as she angrily pushed the last button of her top into it's accompanying hole.

The blonde's dialogue brought a shuddering breath out of Valerie before she reminded her beautiful sometimes partner of her own relationship with the blue eyed Ice King. Bitterly, though she tried not to sound so. She knew it was unfair to be so frustrated with the man who equally made Calliope as happy as she herself wanted to. It was unfair to Noah as well.

She didn't mean to sound harsh with her words but she knew it was the only way Calliope would even think of stopping this...thing they were sharing. Or at least think Valerie wanted to stop this. It hurt that she had to. Especially due to Calliope's accompanying look. If Valerie had chanced a look at the blonde, she knew she would be desperate enough to do something.

As Calliope approached, Valerie's heart raced against it's cage. It felt about to burst when the blonde kissed her shoulder. A sigh left her lips once more as her hand moved up to stroke the younger woman's hair. But it didn't reach it's destination before she curled it into a fist and dropped it to her side. She couldn't encourage this.

But it didn't stop her from just standing there as Calliope breathed on her shoulder, sending shivers up and down Valerie's arm.

When the blonde finally moved to the door, Valerie's heart squeezed in itself as she bit down hard on her lower lip. Calliope's parting words made her almost choke on her oncoming tears but she held back, sending the blonde her own parting words.

With the door closed, the previous rigid stand she had adopted crumbled as she dropped back on the bed with a soft sigh.

[Tanner Larson]

((Very brief mention of sex, and a swear or two. Taking the superhero motif in the opposite direction...))

#44 – Burn

Frostbite vs. Smokescreen

It was midnight, and Pilot Ridge was asleep. Tanner lay in his bed, though he was awake – the only one in the household who was. Listening for the faintest sound, he determined that his parents – who had moved up to Pilot Ridge after he had been recruited to Hammel – were sound asleep. He crawled out of his blankets, tip-toeing across his bedroom as quietly as he was able. Reaching his bureau, he opened the bottom drawer slowly, hoping it wouldn’t squeak as he did so. Silently, he slipped on his costume, lastly placing a red mask over his face.

Once this was completed, he moved to the window, opening it just as slowly as the dresser drawer before stepping out onto the branch of the large oak tree that hugged his side of the house. He shimmied down the trunk, careful not to look down as he did so: this part used to scare him as a child, and at seventeen, it was still a bit intimidating. But not long after, he was dashing across the law, down the street, and towards the industrial district – his cape flapping behind him. The note inside his locker that afternoon had said to meet at a quarter past midnight, and he didn’t want to be late.

By the time he arrived at the predetermined location, his lungs were burning, and already he was starting to sweat beneath his costume. He leaned against the gate of the storage facility, eventually hoisting himself up onto the fence and falling over on the other side. Recovering quickly, he walked towards the building, looking around him. It seemed for a time that he was alone.

“Hey, Smokescreen.”

Tanner sucked in his breath and looked up, hoping that Lucah hadn’t heard him gasp. The brunette was up on the roof of one of the storage lockers, smirking down at Tanner from behind his own mask.

“Hey, Frostbite.”

Tanner refused to use Lucah’s real name while they were playing.

Lucah hopped down from the roof and landed in a crouching position, his cape spilling over his shoulders.

“You got my note,” Lucah said as he rose to a stance.

“Yeah,” Tanner replied with a nod. “Are you ready?”

“I’m always ready. Usual rules tonight?”

“Yes,” Tanner said, assuming his fighting position. “First person to unmask the other, wins. Ready?”

“Come and get me, Smokescreen.”

Just then, Lucah took off running, which threw Tanner off-guard. The blonde ran after him, hurling a fireball in the raven’s direction, which the other male dodged as he continued his sprint. They ran like this for a time, until they just about reached the gate on the opposite side of the complex. Tanner threw a second fireball, and it hit the boy on the back of his right leg.

“Ouch!” Lucah called out, whirling around.

“I hope it leaves a burn!” Tanner replied haughtily. The blonde still had a scar on his right arm from a previous fight, when they had been much younger and didn’t know how to score a hit without it actually hurting.

“Shh,” Lucah chided. “I’m not the one who’ll get in trouble if we’re caught out here.” It was true: whereas Tanner lived at home with his overprotective parents, Lucah lived in the dorms, and was thus a freer spirit.

While the blonde was distracted considering this, Lucah took the opportunity to dash around him, whacking him in the back with an icy fist. Tanner cried out, swinging his own fists blindly and missing.

“Can’t catch me,” Lucah teased.

“Like hell I can’t.”

They ran again, this time towards the building. Reaching the exterior wall, they wrestled, with Lucah ultimately pinning Tanner to the wall with his chest.

“Hey, leggo!” Tanner shouted, struggling in the other male’s grip. Lucah lifted him off the ground with relative ease, the blonde kicking at the air helplessly. Tanner concentrated hard, willing his body to excrete several puffs of smoke.

They didn’t call him Smokescreen for nothing.

Lucah dropped him to the ground. “Shit, Tanner,” he gasped, couching.

“My name is Smokescreen!” Tanner lunged for Lucah’s mask, but Lucah evaded the move before taking off running again. Eventually, they found themselves in the middle of a field behind the building.

When Tanner took a moment to observe their surroundings, Lucah stole a few seconds to gather moisture in the air to create an iceball to hurl at Tanner. Noticing this, Tanner threw a fireball at the last moment, the two elements clashing together in a bright flash that briefly lit up the night sky.

“Wow!” Tanner called out, but Lucah, not as easily distracted, tackled the pyro to the ground, smiling maliciously as he pushed Tanner’s mask off.

“No!” Tanner said, but it was already too late.

“Looks like I won,” Lucah said.

“Barely! Fine.” Tanner crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest. Lucah moved to straddle him, forcing his arms apart.

“You know what that means,” Lucah grinned. “You’re my prisoner. And I think you did leave a burn.”

"Good," he said. "I wanted to."

"Should I leave a mark on you, too?" Lucah lowered his face down to Tanner’s, still wearing his own mask. "Right here, maybe?" He pressed two fingers to Tanner’s neck.

"Don't," Tanner replied weakly. "My parents would see, they'd –"

"Okay, alright," Lucah replied. He sank down lower, until Tanner could feel his hot breath on his neck. “But you’re still my captive.”

Their first kiss was heated.

“You taste good, Smokescreen,” Lucah said. His voice was deeper now, and it made Tanner squirm. He looped his arms around Lucah’s neck, kissing him back

"Should I tell you what I'm going to do to you, Smokescreen?" Lucah asked once their kiss had ended. "Do you have the right to know, as my captive?"

"Y-yes. Tell me."

It always went like this. They fought, Lucah won, and they went at it like the world was ending. When they’d first started doing this, they didn’t really know what they were doing, and it had been sloppy. It was more or less formulaic now, but the passion was still there.

Once they were finished, neither spoke or moved for a while. It was part of the tradition: the ceasefire.

"Take your mask off," Tanner said eventually.

"Why?"

"Because. Your face."

"My face?"

"I like it." Tanner reached up to push Lucah’s mask off, surprised when Lucah allowed him to do so.

Lucah nodded. “I like your hair,” he replied, running a hand through the blonde strands.

They were silent for a while longer, before sitting up, finding their strewn-about costumes and slipping them on.

“Walk you home?” Lucah asked. Tanner nodded.

The walk was in silence as well, for the most part, but once they were close enough to the city that the sidewalk was better lit and Lucah got a good enough look at his own body, decked out in a blue and silver costume, he found himself laughing in spite of himself.

“God, you make me do the stupidest shit,” he said. “I mean, look at me. I’m seventeen years old and this is how I’m getting laid.”

“We don’t… have to do this anymore. I mean, if you don’t want.” Tanner looked uncertain, anxious.

“I do! That’s what’s weird. You make me want to do this. It’s fun.”

They continued walking together. It was two o’ clock in the morning by that point, a school night. They held hands.

“What if you got back and they were awake?” Lucah asked suddenly.

“I’d rather not think about it.”

“You could live with me.”

Tanner gave him a confused look, but by that point they were on Tanner’s street. Lucah looked worried. Tanner gave him a hug.

“Even if they found out, I’d still find a way to meet you.”

That seemed to make Lucah feel better. " You want to cut school with me tomorrow?"

"I can't. My parents call every day to make sure I went to class. Every class."

"Oh, yeah. Hey, you know why I hate them? Because I feel like you were mine first. Isn't that stupid?"

Tanner smiled. "It's not that stupid.”

"Well, whatever," Lucah replied, giving the blonde one last kiss. "You're gonna be mine when you're not theirs anymore. That's all that really matters."

"Yeah," Tanner breathed, stealing one final kiss before they parted ways. As they moved away from one another, the blonde turned for a second. “Goodnight, Frostbite.”

“’Til next week, Smokescreen.”

Making it up the tree and back into the house quickly, Tanner found that his parents were, in fact, still asleep. The house was quiet, and Tanner sat down on his bed for a while in his dirty, sweat-stained costume. He would write about that night in his journal, as he did every week – the tale of a truly epic battle – but first, he was content to just let it live in his head for a little while longer.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#52 – Machine

“Could you come with me?”

“I have court all next week, but I’ll leave you the money and the metro instructions, if you need them.”

“It isn’t about money or directions.” Sean didn’t trust Joshua’s directions, having witnessed firsthand how poor the other man was with a map. Sean knew his way around the City far better than Joshua did, despite having less general exposure. However, that wasn’t the primary cause of his objection.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“I don’t want to go alone.”

Joshua offered him a curious look. “You go plenty of places alone,” he reminded him. They spent countless hours apart each day, and that had never seemed to faze Sean before. “It’s merely a routine checkup; you’ve had those before.”

Sean said nothing, glancing instead at his feet.

Joshua gazed at him more closely. “You’ve never been to the mechanic before?”

“I can do basic maintenance,” Sean reminded the wind-up man. He didn’t have the benefit of a formal degree and the attendant education (although Joshua was part of a small minority when it came to mechanized professional self-determination), but he did have a variety of skills. Robert Hopkins had taken great pains to make him self-sufficient in those regards. “My father took care of everything else.”

Including his routine checkups. The old man had kept his schedule for him, had made the entire process simple and painless, and Sean had never needed to leave their house for the appointment.

His only other experience was with the traveling repairmen who visited Joshua’s apartment occasionally in order to wind him. But they were like paramedics were for organic humans; the mechanic was the equivalent of a doctor.

The wind-up man spun around in his chair, pushing off so that he could close the distance between them. One hand reached out to pat the clockwork man’s shoulder gently. “He’s a very good mechanic.”

He was the same mechanic that Joshua visited for his six-month checkups.

“I don’t doubt that.” Sean had reservations about Joshua’s sense of direction, but he trusted the other mechanical ma in essentially all other aspects of life. Joshua had had dealings with far more people in their city than he had, from a broader cross-section of the population. More than that, he knew that the attorney had lived a hard life of labor prior to receiving his education and professional title. Joshua was quite capable of discerning between a compassionate and competent mechanic and the types of mechanics who visited the factory floors, charged with piecing the chattel workforce back together until they had worked themselves beyond repair, only to be tossed into a scrapheap.

The clockwork man knew all of that intellectually. Still, no human being besides Robert Hopkins had ever laid hands on him, opened his chest, or tinkered with his mechanizations. No person – organic or automaton – had come close to that, save Joshua beside him.

It was a lot to absorb and rectify. To do all of that alone was twice as difficult.

Joshua adjusted the glasses on his nose. They were mostly for decoration, but he found that such a small detail granted him legitimacy when organic humans might otherwise dismiss his credentials and experience. They also provided him with something to do with his hands when deep in thought. After a moment’s consideration, he said, “I can try to reorganize my Friday schedule so I can go with you. I’ll tell them that I have a family obligation.”

When human attorneys had family obligations, the court sometimes took that into account. If they didn’t believe Joshua or extend him the same courtesy because of his mechanical status, then he could always turn that into the basis of an equal protection lawsuit.

“I’d appreciate that,” Sean said, smiling at the other mechanical man. It never ceased to amaze him – how lucky he was to have Joshua in his life. All by random chance.

“If the judge won’t give me the adjournment, will you be able to go alone?”

“I can reschedule.” Then, upon seeing Joshua react with disapproval, he added, “As you said, it’s merely a routine checkup. If we have to put it off for a couple of days, no harm will come.”

The wind-up man conceded that. “You’re very good at arguing,” he observed. “You really should consider entering a professional program; you would excel. And we need the visibility.”

“Maybe. I like helping with paperwork though.” Then the clockwork man rose from his chair. “I should check on alternate appointment dates.”

They could continue this later.

[Calliope Gallo]

28. Ignore

Callie was early to rehearsal. Early enough that the last group were only just finishing packing up. Normally she was always the one rushing into these rehearsals late. So when she walked into the rehearsal room to find her rehearsal partner wasn't there waiting for her as usual, it surprised her. The blonde offered a quick sigh; she always enjoyed the way Valerie would tease her for her inability to be on time. Were things really going to be different now? She dropped her bag off her shoulder, kneeling down and opening it up when she heard the door swing open behind her. Calliope turned, her blue eyes lighting up at the absolutely stunning sight of her rehearsal partner.

When she went to say something, her breath caught in her throat. Her heart practically malfunctioned when she watched the other girl silently walk in and drop her belongings beside her.

What, like nothing had happened? Like they weren't even friends any more? They had to be more than that.

"Um, hey." Callie said finally, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. Valerie finally turned at least some attention to her. It wasn't fair, the way she looked when her hair fell like that.

"Hey." She replied, turning away again.

Callie frowned, but looked away quickly so it wouldn't be caught in her dark eyes. Maybe she was just being an idiot, but she expected a little something more than such a simple greeting. Though, maybe it was because that was all she had offered in the first place. Nevertheless, she would try not to think about it. She fiddled with the zipper on her sweatshirt for a second or so before finally unhooking it at the bottom and drawing it off her shoulders, stuffing it into her bag.

"So, I guess we should work on stuff from yesterday." Calliope began, pausing suddenly and shaking her head. As soon as the words left her mouth, she was bombarded with mental images from the day before. When they had... "The dance, I mean." She interjected suddenly.

"Okay."

"Okay." Callie repeated, as if it helped get the word into her head. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair, swinging it over a shoulder. Her hand clasped over her wrist suddenly, and her eyebrows furrowed. "Dammit."

"What?" Valerie asked, looking at the door and offering a wave as the last of the previous group finally left them alone.

"Oh, uh," She began, unfurling her fingers to realise that her wrist was bare, "I can't tie my hair up. It's just annoying me, that's all."

Without hesitation, the dark haired girl pulled a tie from her own wrist, stepping out and handing it to her. After a moment or so, Callie conceded to needing it and reached out to take it. Her fingers brushed against the other girls hand, and both looked up in unison to lock eyes.

"Thanks." Callie said slowly, moving to push back on her foot. Her attempt was thwarted when Valerie's hand curled around her wrist and pulled her forward gently. The momentum was perfection, as it caused Callie to stumble forward just enough that her lips would lock against the other girl's. And as much as she wanted to give in to her - even as she was pulled inward further - Callie had to break it off. She drew away slowly, unwillingly. But she still did.

"What are you doing?"

"I saw the way you were looking at me," She replied with an amused smile, "Your eyes give everything away, y'know."

"Yeah... I know." Callie regretfully pressed had hand to Valerie's shoulder, creating a little distance. "But you barely even looked at me when you got here. I don't get it."

"You really want everyone to know about this?" It wasn't a question Callie was comfortable answering, because she didn't even know what she was thinking any more. She felt something. She knew it was strong, but she didn't know how to express it. "Well... What are you thinking?"

That was even more difficult to answer. As if stalling for time, Callie looked down and took hold of her hand. Entwining their fingers, she let her free hand run across the back of Valerie's hand slowly. This was going to be too complicated. It had to be too complicated.

"You're..." She began, and stopped suddenly with a shake of her head. Words were suddenly not her strong suit. "You're staggeringly overwhelming." She admitted, breathing a laugh at how absurd she must have sounded. "Like... I don't know. Here." Callie tried again, raising her hand and resting it against chest so she could literally feel the way the blonde's heart skipped sporadically. When she glanced up to catch Valerie's eyes again, she felt the real weight of her words and suddenly felt the unbearable need to back out of whatever was going on here.

"Callie..." Valerie started. The meta-human across from her visibly panicked, her hopeful blue eyes quickly discolouring to something akin to fear. She forced a laugh, looking away and shaking her head as she dropped Valerie's hand in an instant and took a step away.

"No, it's okay. I was... I was just kidding." She said quickly, turning on a heel and racing towards her belongings. She hooked an arm around the strap of her bag, turning to look at Valerie again as she walked backwards towards the door.

"Would you just let me talk for a second?" She asked, almost desperately. "You don't even know what I want to say."

"I think I do." Calliope replied with another shake of her head. She wasn't going to chance it, especially if it meant making a bigger fool of herself.

"Cal-"

"-Bye." She shot out, closing the door behind her. But she didn't get far; the sudden hitch in her throat overwhelmed her and she moved to lean against the nearby wall.

Complexity was never something she could handle. She absolutely hated complicated things like this, and yet somehow she managed right in the middle of it all. She ran her hands along her face, pushing off the wall with the sudden realisation that she needed to get the hell out of there. A growing obsession with a heart-stopping co-worker wasn't something she needed.

But it was something she desperately wanted.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#93 – Missing

Josh took him to all of his medical appointments. Since Josh couldn’t drive, this involved calling a taxi, riding with him in that taxi, paying the driver, sitting in the waiting area during the appointment proper, and then repeating the process to bring them home.

Sean knew that it was inconvenient to the other man, and he was grateful. The taxi rides made him nervous; something about being confined in a moving vehicle made him tense and made his blood pressure rise a few points. His doctors told him that was normal; they said that people often had an aversion to circumstances that reminded them of their trauma. Since he had been in a car accident, all motor vehicles – even taxi cabs – might make him uncomfortable, and he shouldn’t worry about it.

There was plenty for him to worry about.

Not that they had said that – not explicitly – but Sean knew that they felt that way. It was apparent in their body language, in their deliberate word choice and how they shied away from certain topics, in how they shared concerned looks when they thought he wasn’t watching, and their expressions of dissatisfaction when he answered their questions. Even though they always told him that he was doing fine. That he shouldn’t press himself.

Sean didn’t particularly enjoy his medical appointments because the atmosphere was oppressive. He went through each moment of the day feeling as though he was out of the loop (which he was; amnesia had that effect on a person). However, the medical appointments magnified that feeling tenfold.

“Doctor Neville? The doctor will see you now.”

Sean appreciated that they called him by his title, even if he didn’t remember his coursework. It was a small, humanizing gesture.

Offering Josh a smile, he rose from his chair and followed the nurse into the doctor’s office. As usual, the doctor was there with the older gentleman who called himself Claude Harris, the man who was supposedly his employer.

As soon as he seated himself, his doctor asked the first question. The same one that was always first. “How do you feel today, Sean?”

“I feel fine.” Sean folded his hands in his lap, looking between the doctor and Mister Harris.

“No further symptoms?”

“I had a headache last night but it wasn’t that bad. I took a couple of Excedrin and it went away.”

The doctor took interest in that, scribbling down notes in his chart. “Anything else? Pain in your back or neck?”

“Just the knee pain occasionally, like we talked about.” The doctor said that was normal for a man his age and was unrelated to the accident. As such, Sean didn’t think about it except when reporting on his physical condition.

“That’s good,” the doctor said, giving him a smile of encouragement. The same smile that happened each time, the one that was obviously rehearsed because it never changed during this portion of each appointment. Only when other answers weren’t forthcoming, or were the wrong answers, did the smile melt away to the familiar expression of concern.

“Have you had any dreams lately?”

“I dreamt about the crash again.” This was only the third dream that he remembered having since the accident; the doctors said that was normal. Many people don’t remember their dreams, even though everyone dreams, often several times each night. Sean had read a little bit about that online.

That information also piqued his doctor’s interest, even though Sean felt that they had covered this territory before. After all, he might only remember a handful of his dreams, but they were all about the same topic.

The same topic responsible for these appointments in the first place.

However, the doctor treated this with the same care he had when Sean had described the first dream that he remembered. “Any particular aspect of it?”

“Being worried before the impact. I know that Josh was driving.”

That piqued the doctor’s interest. “Do you remember that?”

“No.” Sean didn’t, and he couldn’t lie and say that he did when the opposite was true. However, it was apparent from the details of the accident, from the guilt in Josh’s face and the way he went about caring for him in penance.

The doctor made another note in his chart. “That’s normal,” he assured Sean. “Traumatic brain injury often causes memory loss around the time of the accident. Even if you never recover those memories, they’re typically unrelated to other memory loss, so they shouldn’t be used as a measuring stick.”

That was what the doctor said to him each time that they had this conversation. Like clockwork.

“Have you had any feelings of déjà vu?”

“Sometimes. But time blends together for me right now.”

“Walk me through them.”

“Josh’s mother came over for Shabbat and brought food with her. The cookies were familiar; she called them ‘rugelach.’”

The doctor tried to hide his disappointment, although Sean saw through the illusion. He didn’t remark on that, however, since there was no point in doing so. So much of these sessions were bizarre and yet orderly. Neither the doctor nor his boss would willingly show Sean their concern, even though they radiated it regardless. Even though they and everyone else tried to keep him in the dark, he was still able to match patterns and anticipate routine.

As such, he knew what would come next.

The doctor set aside his chart and pen, before turning to give Sean his full attention. His expression became one of intense concentration, as though focusing on a specific mental task. Then, he asked, “What am I thinking, Doctor Neville?”

It was easily the most perplexing aspect of these appointments. Granted, Sean didn’t know precisely what was to be expected since with the amnesia these appointments were his only frames of reference. Still, none of the television shows he watched while Josh was at work included segments with this line of questioning, and several of the soap operas had long, complicated plots involving memory loss and hospital visits.

As he had at each previous appointment, he stared back at the doctor, his own expression perplexed. After a moment of thought, in which he tried to utilize basic observation skills, he resigned himself to the safe avenue. Answering honestly instead of guessing. “I don’t know.”

The doctor and Claude Harris exchanged looks of concern; then the doctor scribbled several notes in his chart. “That’s all right,” he assured Sean. “Don’t worry about it.”

It wasn’t all right to Sean; it didn’t feel all right, and it was obvious from the way everyone tiptoed around him that a different answer was expected. They were all clearly worried. “How am I expected to be able to answer that?” He asked, glancing between his doctor and Claude Harris.

As with each time, they didn’t give him an answer. Claude Harris said nothing; his doctor repeated, “Don’t worry about it.” Then he offered Sean a patronizing smile. “We’ll see you in three days. Remember to call if you experience anything from the list.”

Dreams of drowning. Savant moments. Déjà vu moments. Recovered memories.

“Am I any closer to being able to go back to work?” That question was directed to Claude Harris, not to his doctor.

Still, the older man said nothing. His doctor answered for him, “We’ll see if you make any progress by your next appointment.”

Then he was shown to the door. Josh met his eyes from across the waiting room, looking for good news.

Sean had none to deliver. Just like in the examination room.

[Tanner Larson]

((Warning: Violence and swearing. I don’t think it’s too much, though. At least, I hope not!))

#13: Twisted

Meta Kombat: Confrontation

“Fatality!”

Cheers rose up from the coliseum as the announcement was made, marking the completion of that morning’s battle. Tanner Larson stood over the charred remains of his competitor, who lay lifeless on the dirt ground below him. His eyes were wide, but he stood motionless for a moment as the applause rang around him. At his side, his hands were balled into fists; his face was darkened with ash, and his blonde hair stood on end. Dark red shirt was torn in several places, and form-fitting jeans were stained with dirt leftover from the struggle.

The woman’s body was, at this point, nearly unrecognizable. In life, she had been tall, slender, athletic. Blonde and beautiful. Super flexibility was her meta ability, and she had been a worthy adversary: Tanner’s neck would remain bruised for a while, from when the girl had throttled him with her strong, toned legs. Tanner had won, though, mostly due to his physical endurance: Calliope Gallo had grown tired, and Tanner had seized the opportunity. The girl had gone up in flames like so many others before her. Now, the body was still, and Tanner’s blue eyes were fixated on it.

This wasn’t the first time Tanner had killed a person, but it never got easier.

Turning away from the body, the blonde faced the assembled audience, who sat high above them in stadium seating. Lifting his fists into the air, they ignited into flames – his signature victory stance. The audience was still cheering as he shouted, in a hoarse, labored voice, his standard line:

“The fires of Hell have claimed another soul!”

The cheers grew ever louder. Eventually, a smile formed on the young man’s lips.

--

Not long after, Tanner was being ushered off the battleground and down into the underground chambers where competitors prepared. Having won the Round of Sixteen, he now had a few more days to prepare for the Round of Eight. Were he to survive that, then he would be in the Final Four. His preparations would mostly consist of recovering from that day’s battle: with only 48 or so hours between that time and his next fight, he would need to rest as much as possible to ensure he was at the top of his game. The arrogant pyrokinetic did not believe he needed any further training: he was ready to win, and win, and win.

He was ready to be the Ultimate Meta Fighter. The Champion of Meta Kombat. He just knew it.

The Meta Kombat was a yearly competition. Over one hundred meta humans entered, and battles were fought bracket-style until ultimately, two fighters engaged in the final round: the Meta Kombat Championship. Fighters were matched up at random, and once the battle started, it wasn’t over until one of them was dead.

It had been an annual tradition in the City of Pilot Ridge for a decade now. Emperor Kells had established it upon ascending to power, and the competition was now a big draw: metas and normals alike made the yearly pilgrimage to bear witness to this perverse display of strength, power, and showmanship.

Until that year, Tanner had never planned on entering what he had always thought of as an awful tradition, a stain on American history as much as the Emperor himself. But after La Maison Magnifique was shut down following a particularly terrible raid, the blonde had found himself without an income – or, for that matter, purpose. And with competitors standing to win a cool million dollars – not to mention the bragging rights and whatever other opportunities that might arise from such a feat – Tanner decided he had nothing much to lose for such a potential gain.

At Madame Cynthia’s behest, Tanner had trained under famed fighter Vincent Meian. It had been an extremely difficult few months, during which the meta warrior had pushed Tanner to, and past, his limits, but there was no denying that he was stronger now than he had ever been before. When Meta Kombat began, he was ready.

Things had, quite clearly, gone well up until that point. He had fought five battles in two weeks. The first was with a telekinetic who’d put up much more of a fight than Tanner had expected: his battle with Lani Hunter had certainly been a wake-up call. His second fight had been easier, against a probability manipulator whose luck ran out that day. The third was a kid who could fly; he had been tough to catch, but once he had, the battle was soon finished. The fourth, a few days before today’s battle, was against a shapeshifter whose lizard form was intimidating, but fortunately not as strong as Tanner’s fireballs. And then there was today’s battle, against the flexible chick, who was good at hand-to-hand combat but who simply couldn’t deflect his flamethrowing prowess.

He knew things would only get harder, but he knew he was ready. Tanner Larson would be the Meta Kombat Champion.

--

Two days later, Tanner was again at the arena. It was the Round of Eight, and chatter amongst the spectators was that the young blonde was destined to make the Final Four. Tanner wasn’t taking anything for granted, though: he came prepared, and he was ready for the fight of his life.

It was particularly warm that day, which wasn’t good for Tanner, as his body temperature was already abnormally high for a human. He would be sweating before the battle even started.

“On the northern end of the arena,” came the booming voice of the announcer. “Hailing from New Jersey, Pilot Ridge’s Golden Boy, the all-star pyrokinetic... Tanner Larson!”

The cheers rose up again as Tanner lifted his flaming fists into the air.

“And on the southern end, hailing from Wisconsin, a fellow Hammel graduate, and the only weather manipulator remaining in the competition… Robert Wilkes!”

Tanner’s jaw dropped. Had he misheard?

But no, coming through the gate was the young blonde Tanner had known from his years at the Institute.

“No…”

Tanner’s head was shaking. This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. He would be fighting his own friend.

One of them would kill the other.

It was sick; it was wrong. It was against everything Tanner believed in, was entirely indicative of exactly why the boy had hated Meta Kombat from the day it was established.

He hadn’t known any of his previous competitors, had been able to detach himself from their stories and just do his job. But this was different. He knew Robbie. He cared about Robbie.

He thought Robbie had moved away years ago.

From several yards away, Tanner saw Robie lift his hands up to chest level, a powerful gust of wind rising up around him to the cheers of the crowd. It was after finishing this gesture, as the announcer was reminding competitors and spectators alike of the rules, that Robbie finally looked over at Tanner, their eyes meeting for the first time in more than three years.

Tanner looked concerned, anxious. Robbie looked determined, driven.

“Fight!”

The announcement came so suddenly that Tanner wasn’t prepared. Without thinking, he began running towards Robbie. This was for two reasons: the first, from a strategic perspective, was that closing the distance between them would provide the other blonde with less time to draw upon enough atmospheric energy to produce his more powerful moves. The second was that he needed to talk to him. He wanted to be detached, to make the kill without feeling something. But he knew it would be impossible this time.

“Robbie!”

The word left his mouth as he was drawing near to the other boy.

“Don’t talk to me!”

The reply was shakier than Tanner, and perhaps even Robbie himself, would have expected. It sounded to Tanner like Robbie was thinking the same thing he was.

“Robbie,” he repeated, much closer to the other boy now. “Robbie, I thought you left-“

“We can’t talk now!” Robbie replied stubbornly. “It’s too late to do anything about this. We just have to fight. Tanner, I’m sorry.”

Tanner didn’t appreciate the apology: if Robbie was so certain he was going to win, then he was in for a surprise.

“No, we can stop this,” Tanner persisted. “I can concede!”

Robbie shook his head. “You can’t do that, Tanner. You know the rules.”

Tanner looked down. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this? I could’ve… I dunno, I could’ve bribed someone.”

“How was I supposed to know you were?” He sighed. “Tanner, we would’ve had to face each other eventually.” He looked up; the crowd was eerily silent, though impatient jeers were starting to make themselves known. “Look, Tanner, we can’t delay this any longer. It’s time.”

Tanner looked back up. “Yeah. Okay.” He started taking a few steps back. “But I want you to make the first move.”

Robbie nodded. Closing his eyes, he waved his hands in front of his face, drawing in as much moisture from the air as he could muster, which began to condense and form a wall of water around him. Fortunately for Tanner, it was not only hot that day, but also dry. So when Robbie’s flash flood was sent his way, it wasn’t too difficult for him to deal with.

“Flash Flood!”

Tanner – who by now was several meters from Robbie – closed his own eyes now, bringing his hands together. His brow furrowed, and his body began shaking. With a loud scream – “Flamethrower!” – he sent a beam of raging fire back in Robbie’s direction. The flames converted most of the water into steam, so by the time it reached Tanner, it was little more than a thin stream trickling over the dirt.

For a moment, both boys just stood there. Robbie was looking at Tanner expectantly.

“Well?!” He called out to him after a while.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to fight me?”

Tanner sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shit, Robbie.” That was all he could say for a moment. “Shit!” He repeated, more loudly, stamping the ground. “Just… GOD!”

Robbie looked down at the ground, and when he looked back up a moment later, his appearance was darker. “There’s no use in delaying the inevitable any longer,” he stated. “If you won’t fight me, then I will just have to finish this more quickly.” He could already hear the announcer screaming ‘Flawless Victory!’ in his mind.

Closing his eyes once more, he lifted his hands to chest level, the wind rushing towards him. Within seconds, a small tornado had formed in the arena.

“TWISTER!”

With this cry, Robbie sent the tornado in Tanner’s direction, growing by the second.

Tanner’s eyes widened, but only slightly.

He looked around, deciding that he wouldn’t be able to outrun it. Thinking through all of his moves, he determined there was no way to disperse the tornado before it arrived - there was only so much that fire could do. In the final moment, as the tornado was bearing down on him, he decided that any evasive measure was simply futile.

So he let go.

The tornado grabbed him, twisting his body this way and that before lifting him up off the ground. Around and around he went, shirt flapping about his chest in the strong winds. His eyes were shut tightly, teeth gritted as he attempted to brace himself. Both of his sneakers went flying off, leaving him barefoot. Higher and higher he went, until he was pulled up above the highest seats in the coliseum. He looked down: the crowd looked like so many ants. He was getting to the top of the twister: in just a few moments, the time for action would arrive.

When that time came, Tanner synthesized a small fireball and threw it out of the tornado; it wasn’t much, but it was enough to push his own momentum in the opposite direction just outside of the tornado’s grasp. Years of studying physics had, evidently, been put to good use.

Down he went, gravity quickly pulling him closer and closer to Earth.

“Smokescreen!”

Smoke began pouring out of his body like he was a tea kettle. It filled the area immediately around him, the dense, dark fog creating an opaque wall that concealed him from all eyes. Robbie watched this bemusedly; smoke or not, Tanner was about to hit the ground from several hundred feet in the air. There was no way he’d be able to survive that.

When he heard the THUD!, Robbie looked down at the ground somberly. Though he couldn’t see the body due to all the smoke, it was safe to assume the end had come. At least it was over. He hoped Tanner had died quickly, and that he hadn’t felt too much pain, or fear. It was better that way. He raised his hands into the air, bringing the winds towards him as part of his victory stance.

“FLAMETHROWER!”

When Robbie opened his eyes to find a blast of fire hurtling towards him, it was already too late to do anything about it.

Tanner emerged from the smoke, his right leg dragging his left behind him. One of his arms hung lower than the other; his shoulder was pretty messed up, and he had bruises forming on his arms and neck. His face was covered in dirt and smoke.

The blonde watched briefly as the fire consumed Robbie. It would have been easy for him to just stand there and wait for it to be over, but he knew he couldn’t do that. It was simply beyond his own emotional capacity. No, he could change this, he could make it better for both of them, and he would.

Everyone knew Tanner could create fire, but what few knew is that he could extinguish it just as easily, by absorbing it back into his body.

And that was exactly what he did.

Robbie collapsed to his knees, his face hitting the floor soon after. Moments later, Tanner was upon him, kneeling beside him with great pain.

“Robbie…”

The blonde struggled to get up but found himself unable to do so. He was breathing quickly, but every breath caused him more pain. “Oh God, Tanner, it hurts…”

Tears were forming in Tanner’s eyes. He wasn’t expecting that. “I know, Robbie, it hurts me too.” The fall had been much more painful than he had anticipated. He moved to sit on the ground cross-legged, pulling Robbie into his lap. “But you’re alive. You’re alive, I swear it.”

Robbie squirmed uncomfortably. “I know. But… I don’t…”

Tanner shook his head. “Shut up. Don’t say that. You’re gonna be okay.” He looked around, wondering how long they had until the crowd started demanding a Finishing Move.

“Tanner, we knew it had to end somehow. We couldn’t both… We couldn’t…” He winced; though he’d only been engulfed by the fire for five or ten seconds, it had felt like an eternity.

The pyrokinetic shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Hey.” He felt Robbie weakening in his grasp. “Hey, stay with me, now.” He nudged the other’s face, which felt incredibly hot, sniffling pathetically as he did so.

“Tanner, you’re gonna have to... Finish me.” He looked up at Tanner hopefully; frankly, with as much pain as he was in, part of him wanted it to come soon.

Tanner shook his head again. “I refuse. I don’t care what they do to me.”

Robbie chuckled darkly. “It’s not worth it.”

“Yes it is!” He moved away from the other boy, standing and looking around. “I can… I can make you look dead. I can burn your clothes and stain your skin with ash. Nobody will be the wiser. It’ll work, Robbie!”

The older blonde was too weak to shake his head. “It won’t, Tanner, they’ll find out.”

Tanner responded frantically. “No, they won’t. I know the guards. They’ll carry you out. They won’t tell a soul!” He kneeled down again, ignoring the pain that shot up his left leg as he did so. “Do you trust me, Robbie?”

For a moment, Robbie was silent. But then, with great effort, he nodded.

“Good.” His voice grew lower now, quieter: he had to be sure nobody else would hear his next words. “When the fight is over, let them carry you out. Don’t make a sound or a move. Don't! I’ll follow behind you. I’ll… find a way for us both to be brought out together. When the coast is clear, I’ll get you out of here. I have friends here. They can heal you. Do you understand me?”

He waited for another nod of confirmation. “Okay. This will work, Robbie. You just have to do as I say. Now go limp.” As he said this, the immediate area began filling with smoke. The last thing the crowd could see was Tanner standing over Robbie menacingly, a fireball hovering just above his left hand.

When the smoke cleared, Robbie was completely still. Tanner turned towards the audience, gathering up all of his remaining strength as he lifted his fists into the air. As he did this, the pain in his shoulder became nearly unbearable. Well, that would make his own theatrics a bit more realistic. He began swaying from side to side, as though he had grown lightheaded. He looked off into the distance like his vision was blurring.

“The fires of… Hell…” Before he could finish his line, he was on the ground.

Both fighters had to be carried out of the arena that day.

((Alex prefers a happy ending.))

[Lani Hunter]

40. Good Riddance

Caroline stretched out her back as best she could in the back of a fifteen passenger van packed full. She glanced at her friend Hayley and rolled her eyes as the co-pilot put on yet another mind grating country song. Caroline enjoyed country music, but this was flat out bluegrass. Bluegrass for two hours straight with three more to go. There were things she loved about North Carolina and there were things she hated about it. One on the top of her list was that the amount of country that people listened to was much greater than in the north. She couldn’t wait to get back home and sleep. A gold metal victory sweetened sleep that would probably venture far into the next day.

The sun had started to set making her attempts at ignoring the cacophony of the people around her and understand atmospheric dynamics all but impossible. She sighed turned back to glance at Clarice and she delivered a scathing glance at the passenger. She could not stand this ‘good old boy’ version of a conservative man stuck in the fifties. He and the driver were beyond infuriating and she had had enough sense for not to hold her tongue but everything they spoke it peeled off another layer of her tolerance.

“Are we there yet?” A male voice from the back asked. Caroline didn’t bother to look back to see who it was as she closed her eyes and focused on keeping her temper.

“Geez, Jake stop being such a bitch!” The driver exclaimed, “You’re such an idiot.”

Caroline wished that glances could kill because she hated the way Jake was treated. He was not an idiot; he was just a little strange. But excuse her for thinking that they were in college and above that.

“Seriously, I mean do you ever stop complaining?” The co-pilot called out.

“Excuse you,” Caroline said snippily, “You’re complaining more than all the other ‘bitches’ in this van.”

The chauvinistic frat boy just kept looking ahead. She had had just about enough of his ignorance. Caroline seethed in silence at being ignored and turned to Hayley. “How ironic that if it doesn’t come from a man he doesn’t here it?” She said not bothering to be quiet.

“Please change this, I cannot stand it.” Rachel said from the seat on Caroline’s other side.

Ignored.

Caroline’s eyes flashed, someone was not going to leave this van alive if this kept up. “Say it in a deeper voice, see if he hears you.”

Rachel giggled not realizing that the smile Caroline had on was a bitter one and repeated it in a deeper voice. Finally a man in the front seat relayed the message and the song was changed. This didn’t help Caroline’s mood.


“Let’s play would you rather!” Ariel said from the seat ahead of Caroline. “Ok, would you rather be the opposite sex for a day or an animal.”

“The opposite sex,” The frat boy said immediately making Caroline snort. “Wait, do I get to keep my brain?”

Caroline had finally had enough. “What the hell do you think we have?”

Ignored.

“Don’t ignore me, I know you can hear me.” Caroline snapped struggling to keep her temper.

Ignored.

Done.

She sat up in her seat. All the way down to the regatta this guy had been talking down women and saying one racist thing after another. And for all of his arrogant stupidity he was wrong on all counts. No Judaism was not an ethnicity, no not all women need men to be happy, and hell no, no woman needed him to help them do something. It only confirmed that this arrogant college freshman was just that. A sheltered coddled boy. And worse some of the women were flattered by him. But the more time she spent around him the more Caroline wanted to skin him alive and finally she was getting her vicious revenge.

“Don’t ignore me!” She called out.

Ignored.

“Oh my God! You cannot be serious!” Everyone in the van was looking at Caroline now as she prepared her sharp tongue to strike. “What kind of people do you think women are?” Now the silence had stretched through and bluegrass turned up on the radio.

“Fine douche bag! This just proves your own worthlessness. You are such a chauvinistic racist. I cannot believe that people like you still exist on this planet. If anyone is stupid in here, it’s you and I’m surprised that you wouldn’t want to be a woman for the brain upgrade!”

Caroline seethed but was unable to keep up her lecture without a reaction. The co-pilot said something to the driver making him chuckle.

Silly them. Forgetting where Caroline went to high school. A junior in college and Caroline hadn’t had an outburst since she was a freshman at Hammel. But now her fury was invoked. She was tired from a hard race, her leg hurt from the return on an injury and after sleeping about two hours on a hard gym floor she had had just about enough of all of their bull shit.

“Say that to my face.” She said her eyes glowed and as the co-pilot uttered a little sound of shock his drink came to life and splashed him.

“Is it your time of the month?” He asked. Even though she had made him say it, it still enraged her.

“No, but you must be if you can’t even stand to give someone the time of day. Don’t be such a bitch,” she threw the insult back into his face with a sneer, “Just admit you’re wrong.”

He was on the spot now and everyone was silent as the tension in the van started to climb.

“Just calm down.” The driver said.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. I won’t calm down.”

“This proves it. Women are more emotionally controlled, unstable.” The co-pilot said with a smile, brave now that he had backup.

“You’re giving me every reason to be furious don’t be so surprised when you’re mouth gets you into a hell of a lot of trouble.”

“You’re just a feminist.”

“Yes,” Caroline agreed.

“So you hate all men, you hate me because I’m a man.”

“And you think women are stupid, you think I’m stupid because I’m a woman.” Caroline countered.

He said something else to his friend.

“What?” Caroline snarled and her eyes flashed again.

“Just get back in the kitchen.”

Caroline was stunned for a few moments. “You think because I’m a woman I have no other ambitions than to have kids and take care of my husband? You think because I’m a woman I don’t want to be a lawyer? I’m only getting a four point oh because I want to get a good husband? I want to get an M.R.S. degree? Excuse me for wanting to work and support my family. Excuse me for wanted to make something out of myself. You know what the first thing I’m going to do. I’m going to fight for laws protecting women from assholes like you who think we have no more brains than a bucket.”

He was silent for a good time and Hayley patted Caroline’s hand trying to calm her. “I hope that you get just what you want in a woman, I hope you get someone brainless as you are. I hope that you get someone who wants to stay in the kitchen because if you’re looking for your M.R. degree you’re looking in the wrong place. And I swear if you say anything more against women or keep calling you fellow men ‘bitches’ when they complain or do something stupid I will report you for sexual harassment.”

The co-pilot turned around, Caroline wasn’t sure if it was in shame or if it was to keep himself from hitting her. Honestly she hoped he did because then she would see just how strong a woman could be. But either way Caroline wasn’t done. “Honestly I feel bad for you; you’re so ignorant you can’t see past your own nose. You’re a stereotype of a self-centered fraternity boy and you’re going to drink your way through college and when you get a job I hope to God that you have a female supervisor and that you speak to her the way you do me.”

Now Caroline was done. She sat back and put her earbuds in not wanting to hear what other people wanted to say to him or to her about the confrontation.

Blessed home. Caroline grabbed her stuff and stalked away with Hayley at her side. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.” Hayley said.

Caroline smiled, Hayley was shy and quiet. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think he could have handled two kick ass women in one day.” Hayley laughed and waved as they parted ways.

Pulling out her phone she sent a call to Lani. “Hey Caroline!” Lani cried from the other side.

“Hey Lani,” Caroline smiled and relayed the events of the day concluding with what had just happened in the van.

As she got to the point where she told him about the kitchen comment Lani laughed, “Did you kill him? I’m always here if you need to hide a body.”

She laughed and shook her head and finished the story adding in a much needed rant about society. She opened her door holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she listened to Lani’s laughter and agreement. She loved Lani, she wished so much that he was here.

“Do you want me to come down? Rough him up a bit?” Lani asked. She laughed, she knew by now that ‘roughing up’ by Lani’s standards were not necessarily beating someone up but rather giving him a good display of his power for the benefit of terror.

“No, Lani, I can’t have my big brother fighting my battles this time. I have to show him that I won’t back down. And if the other girls and guys on the team want to help me so be it. But I want to finish what I’ve started.”

There was silence on the other end for a while before he spoke again. He could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Caroline Hunter, I am so proud of you.” Her heart swelled with pride and with love. She might not have been the nicest when she had called out the douche bag and was now considering apologizing for attacking his integrity so much. She bid Lani farewell, floating on air from his compliment and as she showered she decided no, she was not going to apologize.

[Jeffrey Dougal]

96. Obsessive

After being at Hammel for three years, Jeff was ready to just give up. His power was just stupid and impossible. Sure, he had made some progress over the years, what with being able to block out most random thoughts unless they were about someone, then it was like trying to stop water from freezing in the winter.

He glared solemnly at the back of the class. It wasn't anyone's fault but his, and he knew that. Maybe smoking that weed in middle school and his freshmen year destroyed some special part of his brain that would have controlled it easily. Or maybe it was just in his deprecating personality where he had no motivation after things got difficult--

Well that was obviously it.

However....there was one thing he hadn't had before that he had now; Juniper. He wasn't quite confident in calling her his girlfriend, but they had been on several dates, and other study dates--held hands, that sort of thing. He'd been just about to kiss her, and it was poorly set up and he missed and kissed her cheek. Not only was he extremely embarrassed, but his confidence was shot. He thought he hid it pretty well, but since then he hadn't tried again.

That was besides the point, however, Juniper was giving him a reason to try to control his power. It made stuff awkward when he was having his guy thoughts and she was around. He couldn't help that he was ATTRACTED TO HER, but he could at least try to control his power, so she didn't have to be a party to his thoughts.

Which was why we was now throwing himself into his training. Perhaps, he could do it now, because he had some drive, or perhaps not. He had to try at least.

His trainer called him up--he had class with a few others--and he took his place, his headphones around his head and faced the instructor. The same old song and dance.

He closed his eyes and focused for a moment, thinking about the bubble around his mind, his sanctuary, and then he looked at his instructor. He was wearing an ugly sweater. The green and brown made him look overweight and pale. The instructor cocked his head to the side and looked sadly down at his sweater.

"My mom gave this to me for Christmas."

The other students laughed.

Jeff flushed with embarrassment and closed his eyes again. He had to keep trying.

[Tanner Larson]

((Warning: Depressing!))

#48: Shine

Three Years Hence

When Cynthia DeMato lifted her head off the desk, she noticed something strange.

She had fallen asleep there, in her office, head coming to rest on a pile of paperwork she hadn’t been focusing on. There was a lot on her mind recently, as there had been for a while. Things weren’t going so well – not at the club, but in general. It was difficult to think about, but her mind rarely paid heed to anything else.

Some troubles were hard to ignore.

But when she lifted up her head, she found that her paperwork was gone. In their place was a small patch of flowers sprouting out of her bright purple desk. Purple… she didn’t recall that being the color of her desk. She looked over to the photo frame that sat in one of its corners. Inside of the gleaming silver frame, an angel could be seen smiling up at the heavens, golden halo framing his beautiful face. On the desk, the flowers began to dance, as though moved to and fro by some unseen, unfelt wind. They danced this way and that, defying the stillness of the air.

Now why should that be?

She looked up when she heard the door open. A bright light shone in from beyond the doorway. Cynthia lifted up her hand to shield her squinting eyes.

“You wanted to see me?”

When Cynthia removed her hand from in front of her face, the light was gone. Tanner Larson stood in front of her, looking at her nervously.

“Yes,” she found herself saying. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” She gestured towards the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please, sit down.”

The boy looked at the chair apprehensively, ultimately nodding his head and moving to sit down. Cynthia watched this, noting his hesitation. It didn’t seem he wanted to be there.

“So…” She searched for words as her eyes fell back down to the dancing flowers, which continued to move all on their own. “How have you been?” She looked back up at him as she asked the question, concern evident in her voice.

The boy shrugged his shoulders sadly, placing his hands in his lap. “Not so good,” he replied before chuckling softly. “I guess that’s obvious now.”

The middle-aged brunette nodded her head slowly. “I… I wish I had known.” She gulped. “I wish you had told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Cynthia shook her head. “I don’t want your apology.” Her voice was soft, but there was a firmness there. She had wanted to have this conversation for a long time, and now that they were finally face to face, she found herself feeling more anger than anything else.

“Why?”

She asked the question so suddenly, that she almost didn’t believe it had come from her own mouth.

“I mean…” She squeezed her eyes shut, as though actively working through the difficulty of the words. “How could you do something so… selfish?”

“I know,” Tanner replied quickly, hand reaching to the back of his neck as it so often did. “I know! I don’t know why I did it. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

Cynthia leaned into the desk, hands pressing down into the dancing flowers. “You could have come to me.”

Tanner looked frustrated; he was starting to get upset. “I wish I could take it back, okay? I do…” But he couldn’t; she knew he couldn’t.

Suicide wasn’t something that could be taken back.

Cynthia shook her head. “I just don’t understand. I have so many questions. How could you be so stupid? How could you do that to yourself?” How? How, how, how…

Tanner broke then. “I know it was stupid, okay?” He asked, getting choked up as he did so. “I did one stupid thing, and now I’m stuck!”

Cynthia quirked an eyebrow. Stuck? How could he be…

“Oh, no…”

Purgatory.

Tanner clawed at his face, as though trying to physically push the tears back into his eyes. “I’m afraid I won’t get into heaven because I took my own life.”

Cynthia stood from the desk. “No,” she declared, “that’s not true.” She moved away from the desk, moving towards Tanner. The walk seemed interminably long, as though with each step she took, Tanner’s chair moved away from her.

When she reached him, they were situated in the middle of a field. Flowers danced all around them, a light breeze carrying petals through the air. The sun shone down upon them. Cynthia knelt down, long skirt pooling around her feet. Her arms wrapped themselves around the boy’s waist. Tanner buried his face in her shoulder. She spoke softly in his ear.

“You are with God.”

Cynthia DeMato didn’t belive that He would ever leave one of his children behind.

They staid like this for a while until their surroundings began to dim: the dream was starting to fade. Cynthia would wake up soon. It was then that Tanner looked up once more, sniffling softly as though finally recovering.

“I have to go now,” he said, moving to rise from his seat.

“I know,” she agreed, allowing him to do so. She took his hand into hers, gripping it tightly. “Thank you. For visiting me. I needed it.”

The boy nodded. “I’m with you, you know.”

It was Cynthia’s turn to nod now. “Yes, I know.” She sighed softly, pulling the boy into a second hug. “You’re gonna be okay, kid.” She willed herself to smile. “And hey, put in a good word for me, will ya? I don’t think I’m too far behind.”

Tanner giggled. “Deal.”

She held him as the dream continued to leave her. The scene unraveled like a scarf at its fringes, curling away like the pages of an ancient tomb. The sun still shone, but the yellow began to whiten. The breeze died down, the chair melted away, and the flowers kept dancing and dancing.

--

When Cynthia woke up in her office, she was acutely aware she was crying. She lifted her head off the desk, finding the familiar paperwork still strewn about the desk. There were no flowers. The desk was brown, just as she remembered it. On the corner of the desk stood a picture frame. Tanner Larson smiled in the photo, a permanent memorial of that special boy. Her Golden Boy; her shining star.

It had been three years to the day. Three years since Cynthia had found Tanner hanging in the closet. Three years since she had watched the coroner declare his time and the EMT’s zip him up into one of those bags from which no one ever emerged. Three years since she had chosen a song to sing at his funeral.

It felt like three minutes. It always did.

The door opened, the fluorescent light leaking in from the hallway.

“You ready?”

Valerie Danner stood in the doorway. She was wearing a bright red, sequined dress that hung from her shoulders to the floor. Her brown hair was teased up into curls. She looked stunning.

Cynthia looked at her for a moment, as though it wasn’t her she had been expecting. “Yeah,” she replied at length. “I’m ready.”

It was the Second Annual Tanner Larson Memorial Show. They had done this every year since Tanner had passed. The proceeds went to the Trevor Project suicide hotline for LGBT youth.

“I’ll, uh… meet you out there,” Cynthia requested, and Valerie nodded, leaving the room.

The woman sighed, knocking her fists lightly against the desk. One hand reached for the photo, lifting the silver frame to her face. Her lips touched the glass, leaving a soft print of light pink lipstick.

“This one’s for you, baby,” she said, smiling sadly. She placed the frame back down, took a moment to look around the office one more time, and headed out for the stage.

She would give it her all that night, for him.

For him, she would shine.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#74 – Alone

The apartment was quieter than it had been in recent memory.

It was to be expected.

Sean knew intellectually that the apartment would be quiet. Josh brought such joy and light to their joint living space that it followed logically that his absence would cause the reverse effect. Yet that intellectual knowledge did nothing to truly prepare him for the experience of being without the younger boy.

It was so quiet. So, so quiet.

The telepath couldn’t help glancing at the wall clock; it was past the time that Josh usually returned home from his late afternoon/early evening class. Sean had to continuously remind himself that Josh wouldn’t step through the front door, slip off his shoes, and pile his books on the coffee table in the living room for his post-supper reading.

As such, there was no reason for the telepath to delay eating. No reason beyond the fact that he had no appetite.

Although he needed to keep with his glucose intake. That was why he kept Saltines in the cupboard.

And he should probably refresh his mug of tea; it had gone cold a while ago.

The telepath puttered about the kitchen, moving slowly from the kitchen table to the stove to reheat the water in the kettle. Then to the cupboard to pull down the box of Saltines and the box of Earl Grey teabags. Except the box of teabags wasn’t in the cupboard.

Frowning to himself, he glanced around in confusion. Then his gaze fell on the box, near the sink; he must not have put them away after brewing the first mug of tea.

Apparently, he was more out of it than he’d first thought.

Sean wondered whether Josh was back from class yet. Since their Break Up, the law student had moved back into his childhood apartment with his parents. His parents lived Uptown, far away from both NYU Law School, and the apartment that they had shared and where Sean still resided. The commute took longer, particularly during rush hour.

If he closed his eyes, he could envision Josh on the subway - lugging a heavy back filled to the brim with casebooks and study aids. It always took the younger man additional time to memorize subway routes, because he had never been good with directions or maps. He wondered whether Josh had fully memorized the route from NYU law up to his parents’ apartment, or if he still had to carry the direction sheet with him. It involved a transfer, which always made the situation more complicated.

He wondered whether he and Josh might run into each other one day on the subway, while transferring stations. They now worked or attended classes and lived on opposite sides of the City; it was possible.

As the kettle whistled, signaling that his water had boiled, Sean poured himself another cup and fished out a teabag to dip.

He wondered what Mama B had made for supper this evening. Possibly one of Josh’s favorites. While she and Sean were very different in many ways, they had a few common traits – the most prominent of which was the tendency and desire to pamper Josh. Making one of his favorite foods was such a simple way to achieve that goal. To make Josh smile.

He missed Josh’s smile. So wide and bright, coupled with the way his eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

Sean had always felt so lucky to have exclusive access to the deepest reaches of Josh’s mind: his affection, his enthusiasm, his energy and beliefs. It was all that he wanted

However, the law student had said he felt suffocated by that.

Sean wished that Josh had given him the opportunity to draw new boundaries and reach a compromise. If Josh had wanted to take a break or to have an open relationship, the telepath would have agreed without hesitation. Instead, Josh had moved out, and Sean lived in an apartment that was too big for him and too quiet to focus.

It would be easier if he could just stop thinking about the younger man, but that was impossible. Josh had occupied so much of his mental space and waking energy when they had been together. Now that they were apart, he no longer looked forward to their next moments together. Instead, his mind was aflutter with memories and muses on the present and alternate futures. What if Josh took him back? What if he changed just enough to pique the law student’s interest again?

How was he to get used to no longer having someone beside him in bed at night? What was he supposed to do with all of these blankets?

How could he focus when there was a hole in his brain where Josh should be?

Sean sipped his tea and glanced at the wall clock. Since he wouldn’t eat supper, he would just bide his time before calling Robert. Surely, his mentor would have words of soothing calm and sage advice for him.

If not...at least he could cry while on the phone without worrying about how the older man might react. At least he could be honest about how he felt.

He just had to bide his time before the apartment swallowed him whole.

[Cobalt Weaver]

[ooc: happens concurrently with this and this]

#34: Difficult

Cobalt looked forward every week for a letter from Danny. In a place as awful as Hammel, it was sort of a respite-- a relief from the day-to-day life of classes full of people he didn’t like with teachers who didn’t like him and spending lunchtime alone. Not that he minded the alone parts so much. He liked being alone. But he missed Danny like a constant ache and it only served to make the surly teen even more unpleasant.

When he got his letter this time, however, the envelope was unusually thick. Danny usually wrote two pages or so, but this felt a little larger than that. Cobalt clutched the envelope tightly and skittered back to his room, unwilling to interact with anyone until he had read Danny’s letter.

When he was safely back to his room, Cobalt threw himself on the bed and ripped open the letter eagerly. Danny’s letter fell in pages on his bed cover, but there was also another envelope folded into the package with the word “Sean” in unfamiliar handwriting. Cobalt stared at it for a moment before tearing his attention away and focusing on Danny’s letter.

The letter was full, as usual, of inexplicable cheer and affection and excited recounting of day-to-day events. At the end of the letter, however, Danny wrote:

And the other envelope is from a new friend! His name is Josh, and his friend Sean Neville goes to Hammel too! Josh isn’t allowed to send letters to Sean because of his family, which is really unfair! So I was hoping you’d be willing to send Sean Josh’s letters when I send you mine. I’m sure you know Sean! Josh tells me he’s a year above you, but he’s sort of hard to miss. I know you don’t like talking to people, but it just didn’t seem right that Josh not be allowed to talk to Sean just because some people don’t understand. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I couldn’t talk to you.

And just like that, Cobalt knew he couldn’t refuse. He knew Sean; of course he knew Sean. Sean Neville was one of those kids who didn’t have a lot of friends either, but they shared an advanced English class and every time Cobalt even had to speak to him, the older boy got on his nerves. He didn’t like talking to people, and he especially didn’t like talking to Sean.

But Danny asked. Danny asked and Cobalt never could say no to Danny.

“I can’t imagine what it would be like if I couldn’t talk to you.”

Cobalt could, and the prospect was horrifying.

***

Cobalt found Sean sitting on the lawn, reading a textbook and no doubt enjoying the spring sunshine. Cobalt didn’t much like spring and summer--he got sunburnt during a cloudy day--and he felt a pique of completely irrational annoyance about this whole thing. Even though Danny didn’t know that Cobalt vehemently disliked Sean. It was obvious to everyone else at school, but Danny wasn’t here. Danny didn’t know.

Sean looked up when Cobalt approached him and gave him a quizzical look. Cobalt didn’t blame him; usually the two just avoided each other. Cobalt pulled the envelope out of his pocket and shoved it in Sean’s general direction with a muttered, “here.”

The teenager took the envelope silently and then turned it over to look at the handwritten address on the back. His face cleared and his expression was uncomfortably close to the relief and affection Cobalt felt every time he saw a letter from Danny. Cobalt didn’t know what to do.

“Okay, see you,” he muttered, turning on his heel.

“Wait,” Sean called after him, stopping Cobalt reluctantly. The telepath held up the letter, “how--”

“Your Josh knows my Danny, I guess,” Cobalt said and then stopped abruptly, realizing what he just said. “I mean...I-- your friend...knows my...friend. Whatever.” Flushing in anger, Cobalt turned and marched away.

“Thank you,” Sean called.

“Yeah, whatever,” Cobalt said back.

***

And so it went. Every Saturday, Cobalt would receive a double letter and then would go track down Sean and deliver his letter to him.

“This is silly,” Cobalt declared irritably. “Why don’t you just meet me at the mailroom on Saturdays and I can give you your letter right then and there?”

Sean paused, clutching his envelope the same way Cobalt was clutching his. “I don’t want to cause you undue stress, I guess,” he said finally.

Cobalt huffed. “It’s quicker this way,” he said. “Just...don’t worry about it, okay? Meet me next Saturday at the mailroom.” He shouldered on his backpack and strode away, considering the conversation over.
***

Every Saturday, like clockwork, Sean and Cobalt would send their letters and receive Josh’s and Danny’s. And whatever Cobalt was arguing with Sean about would stop for a few moments as they ripped open their envelopes and leaned against the wall or (in some cases) each other, while reading their letters from the people important to them.

And one day, Cobalt glanced up from his letter to see something like quiet, awful sadness flash across Sean’s face. It was one of those moments where Cobalt felt like he was looking at his own feelings on someone else’s face.

“I miss Danny, too.” Cobalt said quietly. Sean didn’t say anything, but they ate lunch together and somehow Cobalt managed to not argue every other word.

***

“I really appreciate what you have done for us,” Sean said one day.

Cobalt shrugged, making sure to scowl. “It’s no big deal. Just drop it.”

Sean mirrored his shrug. “I just wanted to you to know that I appreciate how difficult this must be for you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Cobalt said. “All I’m doing is helping out a friend of Danny’s. It’s not an exhaustive trial, okay?”

“I just know that you find talking to me difficult.”

“Yeah, it is,” Cobalt replied with no real vitriol. “But I guess it could be worse.”

[end]

[Tanner Larson]

#69: Celebration

Masquerade

((This is Part III of my Fly series. I wrote the first scene like a Disney narrator. I’m not sure why. Enjoy!))

Up in a tower within the Hammel Institute, surrounded by stone and cement, there was a room. It was simple enough in nature: the floors were a dark wood, the walls the same stone façade as the exterior. It was a tall room, greater upwards than around, the main focal point of which was a large bed of soft pink, canopied in the same bright shade. The large columns of the bed’s canopy stretched upwards, reaching towards the vaulted ceiling. A dresser stood by the door, and on the other side, a window provided a view of the school grounds, beyond which could be seen the faint outline of the front gate. It was often cold at night, and the candelabras attached to the walls provided little light.

Housed in this room which sat so high above Hammel was one Kiara Lilien. She had been living in these quarters since arriving at Hammel, soon after which she had been assigned to the care of Helga Janisson, one of the maids at the Institute. As a child, Helga had helped the girl get ready for school and clean her living space. Now, ten years later, Aunty Helga still attended to Kiara, though in a different manner. Theirs was a bond few could understand, and even fewer replicate.

At that moment, Kiara was preparing for the evening’s festivities. The young woman was dressed in a long, pink and green dress that stretched from just under her shoulders down to the floor. She was seated on the edge of her bed, the pink portions of the dress blending in with the sheets. In her hands was a purple sequined mask which would, when adorned, cover much of her face, save for the blue pupils of her eyes and her thin, red-painted lips.

Behind her, Aunty Helga ran a long-handled brush through her hair, which spilled in curls over her charge’s shoulders. As they sat, one woman combing the other’s golden hair, they chattered – that is to say, Aunty chattered and Kiara listened – about this and that. Time and again, the conversation fell to what awaited Kiara downstairs that evening.

For while the occurrence of Aunty Helga combing Kiara’s hair was quite common, the reason for this preening was quite rare indeed.

The Hammel Institute Co-Educational Masquerade Ball was a once-yearly occurrence. On any other day of the year, dalliance – or any sort of amorous interaction – between the genders was not only discouraged, but strictly forbidden at the school. The masquerade, then, was a rare opportunity for students of the opposite gender to come together for a night of music, dancing, and revelry – all behind the careful protection of a mask.

As she continued grooming her ward, Aunty Helga recalled with joyful vision the balls she had attended as a child. Having been of the working class, she hadn’t gotten such a glimpse of elegant high life until attending Hammel herself. She had loved every aspect of it – dressing up, picking out a mask, dancing to the music with the mysterious gentlemen… she sighed, lost in a patchwork of lovely memories.

Kiara, for her own part, was listening with only half an ear as Aunty finished up her work. Her mind, too, was elsewhere: on a boy, the one into whom she had stumbled a week or two earlier in the courtyard.

She and Aunty had been walking down the cobblestone path, hurrying in one direction or another; the courtyard was usually a busy place, one of the only outdoor areas students were allowed. Lingering was frowned upon, though, so Aunty usually prodded the girl along.

Kiara had been distracted that day, as well. The sun was shining, bright and warm, and the girl was looking up at the sky, remarking to herself on the wonderful shapes of the clouds. The starry-eyed girl – whom, coincidentally, Aunty often joked had her head in the clouds – was not watching where she was going, and she paid the price for this aloofness when she suddenly ran right into another student.

“Oh!” Kiara called out, taking a hurried step back, head snapping down to eye-level and fixing the bonnet that sat atop her head. “My goodness.”

Before her stood a young man dressed in a dark collared shirt and khaki slacks. His blonde hair – a similar color to Kiara’s own – was spiked up neatly, and a backpack was slung over one shoulder. He was looking back at her, and their eyes locked for a moment.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he uttered, his right hand seeming to quake by his side. “I didn’t see you there.”

“The fault is mine,” Kiara replied lightly, providing this stranger with a slight curtsey.

The boy smiled. Kiara fell in love almost instantly.

That was when he extended a hand towards her, palm open, inviting.

“I’m Tanner.”

Kiara moved to take this boy’s hand, when she felt herself being tugged sharply in the opposite direction. It was all she could do to look back over her shoulder, to find this Tanner fellow watching anxiously as she left him.

“Come along now, dearie,” Aunty Helga murmured as she pulled the girl in close, the two women rushing off towards one of the buildings. “None of that today. We don’t need trouble.”

Everywhere they went, the woman was convinced they were being watched.

That was two weeks ago, and Kiara hadn’t seen Tanner since. She had thought of him, though – thought of his cool, blue eyes, his neat blonde hair, his charming, handsome smile. Tanner. Did he think of her? Did he long for another such meeting, a chance encounter, perhaps longer in duration?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden removal of the comb from her hair. Helga was placing it down on the bed, fluffing the curls with her fingers once or twice. “There, now that’s perfect.” She said, taking up the hand mirror that had been sitting beside her on the bed and bringing it up to Kiara’s face.

Kiara looked into the mirror, seeing not only her own glowing reflection, but that of Aunty Helga peering into it behind her. She looked worn, tired, but proud.

“Now, aren’t you beautiful?” Helga whispered, a small smile growing on her face. “You’ll be the belle of the ball, I’m sure.”

Kiara tried to emulate this happiness but found it impossible – not when she longed for a boy she didn’t think she would ever see again. A soft sigh escaped her lips, shoulders sagging slightly – a motion that was not lost on Helga Janisson.

“It’s okay to be nervous, dearie,” Helga cooed, patting the girl on the shoulder comfortingly as she misinterpreted the girl’s somber behavior. “Just try to have fun. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get to dance with some nice boys.”

Kiara huffed, fumbling with the mask in her hands as she stood up from the bed.

“I shall dance with a dozen men this evening,” she said, pulling her mask down over her face, “but scarcely heed the lot of them.”

When Kiara walked through the open double doors and into the hallway that led to the ballroom, she could already hear the music. It seemed to sing to her, to beckon her join them, and she obeyed, lifting up the front of her long dress and walking briskly towards the interior doors, her heels click-clacking on the wooden planks under her feet. She froze, though, when she finally reached the ballroom.

There were hundreds of people there. Many were dancing, but others were standing off to the side, talking or enjoying the refreshments. All of them wore masks, making the sea of strangers almost frightful. But she pressed onward, taking a deep breath before slowly making her way down the stairs and into the ballroom.

On the other side of this gigantic room, Tanner Larson stood with one of his friends, a bright red mask shrouding his appearance.

“I know she’s here, Michael,” he stated, eyes darting this way and that behind the mask. “I just have to find her.”

“It’s no use,” the other boy replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “There are half a million girls here, all wearing masks. What are the chances-“

The boy was hushed by Tanner’s hand lifting into the air to silence him. For there, on the stairs, was the girl Tanner had been searching for for half a month.

“That’s her, Michael,” Tanner breathed. “I know it. I would recognize her anywhere, mask or no.” A wide grin stretched across his face. “My God, isn’t she beautiful?”

Michael looked up as well; he couldn’t disagree. “You’re sure that’s her?”

“Positive.”

The brunette smirked, slapping Tanner on the back. “Then what are you waiting for?” He asked jovially. “Go to her!”

Tanner did just that, making his way through the masses towards Kiara, who was getting lower and lower on the stairs. Just before he reached her, though, a strong hand came down on his shoulder.

Turning, he came face to face with a young woman. Though he could not see her face, her long brown hair, slender figure, and smooth, fair skin were most enticing.

But as gorgeous as she may have been, she was not the one Tanner was looking for, and that disqualified her.

“May I help you?” He asked, trying to be polite without inviting further conversation: he felt he had no time to lose.

“A dance,” purred this strange woman, pulling the young man into her grasp. Her voice was deep, sultry, seductive. Tanner could not rightly say no, and so he merely consented, determining he would give her one dance, keep his eyes on Kiara, and slip away as soon as he was able.

On the staircase, Kiara was looking around, largely in vain, for the boy from the courtyard. She knew she would never be able to find him amidst such a large crowd, but she refused to give up.

“My lady.”

Kiara turned, finding a few steps below her a man peering up at her.

His hair was short, but brown. It wasn’t him.

“My lord,” she replied, giving a pleasant, though shallow, curtsey.

“Have you come alone?”

Kiara hesitated for a moment, not wishing to lie, but equally reluctant to divulge the truth. “I have,” she replied in a moment.

“Then I take it you are free for a dance? Please, allow me,” he said, taking her hand and leading her onto a crowded dance floor.

Kiara looked desperately out at the crowd before resigning herself to her fate. She allowed this strange man to take her out to the center of the floor. He seemed nice enough, she mused to herself, but he wasn’t the man she wanted.

“You dance beautifully,” he remarked after a few measures of waltzing.

“Thank you,” she responded, trying to muster up a smile.

“If my memory serves me correctly,” he continued, as they danced away, “I believe I have seen you around before. You walk about with a servant woman, do you not?”

Kiara would have frozen if not for the fact she was being pulled this way and that by the gentleman. “Why, yes… Yes, I do,” she said through a forcibly cheerful smile. “I am flattered that you have remembered me.”

“Jackson. Jackson Haynes.”

Kiara thought for a moment. “Lily,” she said eventually. “My name is Lily.” It wasn’t too far from the truth, her last name sounding quite similar.

“Lily,” the man repeated huskily, lifting one of her hands to his face to leave a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Kiara nodded. “And yours as well, sir.”

“I hope I shall be so lucky as to have your company all evening,” he ventured to say.

Kiara thought for a moment, before shaking her head. “With apologies to my lord… there is only one man here for me. I am afraid you are not him.”

Jackson looked visibly upset. “Aren’t I? So there is someone?”

Kiara nodded.

“And how do you plan to find him?”

“I’ll know him when I see him.”

The male brunette looked at her quizzically. “I sincerely hope you are not saying you have been communing with a member of the opposite gender...”

This challenge only made Kiara more stubborn. “And if I am?”

Jackson shook his head. “Such behavior is not allowed at this institution-“

“I am not long for this institution.”

This statement – a profession of Kiara’s deepest, most latent convictions – confused Jackson as much as it surprised her.

“My apologies,” he said, with a slight nod of his head. “I seem to have upset you.”

Kiara recovered quickly, forcing a girlish giggle and shaking her head. “Not at all,” she replied. “Let us finish our dance.”

And so they did, dancing their way from one end of the room to the other, making polite conversation and generally enjoying one another’s company as they did so. When the song was coming to a close, Jackson raised one of his hands towards the woman’s face.

“Since I have seen you before,” he stated, fingers brushing up her cheek to grab at her mask, “I suppose there would be no harm-“

“Why, sir,” Kiara replied, moving his hand away. “That’s against the rules.” Masks were to stay on at all times. It was then Kiara noticed just how tightly this man was holding onto her.

“I long for you.”

“I said no.”

“Lily-“

Kiara wrestled herself out of Jackson’s arms, moving as quickly as she could away from the man and his unpleasant advances.

And, as though the Fates themselves had conspired to create this very moment, it was then that the young woman, as she moved to readjust her mask, found herself again facing the young man from the courtyard.

Time stood still for a moment, before Tanner's voice broke through.

“May I have this dance?”

Again, he extended a hand towards her. But this time, with nobody to stop her, she took it, gently, stepping into his arms.

They were silent for a moment, their eyes locked, arms around one another’s bodies as they danced. Eventually, Tanner spoke first.

“You… are in the courtyard quite frequently, yes?”

Kiara hid a smile, all too familiar with this game.

“Yes, frequently.” She paused. “Though I must admit, I do not always watch where I’m going.”

Tanner smiled. “So you… are her.”

Kiara smiled back. “I am as I always have been.”

And they danced, all other present bodies melting away as though the music played only for them. They were alone – yes, were they not? – and the music swelled as Tanner twirled Kiara around under his arm, before bringing her back in close, arms more tightly around her than before.

Now that he had found her, he was not about to let go.

“I hope you will not think it improper,” he said directly into her ear, “for me to say you look positively ravishing.”

Kiara blushed. “And I hope you will not think it forward,” she returned, “for me to admit I have been waiting for this moment, for-“

“For two weeks,” Tanner finished quickly. “Yes, I know, for I have been waiting too, thinking about you day in and day out. I’ve been seemingly unable to think of anything else. But please, I beg of you – help me fill in the blanks. Tell me, angel… what is your name?”

“Kiara.”

The boy exhaled, as though releasing a breath of air he had been holding in for as many days. “Kiara,” he repeated, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he breathed the word. “You have made these sleepless nights worth every waking minute.”

Kiara was swooning. “Oh, Tanner, had I only known… had I only been able to find-“

“No,” he uttered quickly. “Think not of the past. What we have is here and now.” He brought the girl’s hands up to kiss; she felt guilty, knowing he was not the first boy to have done so that evening. “All that matters to me is that I have found you. Promise me you’ll never leave my sight again.”

“Oh, yes!” Kiara asserted. “A thousand times yes!”

Tanner grinned. “I do have one last request to ask of you, Kiara.”

“Anything, sir.”

“Allow me…” Losing the words in his mind, he leaned in towards her, their lips mere inches apart. “To feel…”

Kiara grew impatient. “Enough words!” She whispered excitedly. “Make not another sound, but do the deed!”

And so they kissed, there in the middle of the ballroom, countless other bodies dancing and twirling around them, as the music rang in their ears: their first kiss, in such a magical moment, with the promise of so many more to follow.

But while they stood intertwined in this fated embrace, over in the corner another partygoer watched this kiss with malice on the mind.

“So, this is what’s going on, is it?” Jackson asked himself, hands balling into fists as he watched the two lovers meet mouth to mouth. “So this is why she spurned my advances.” He turned inward, away from the two other students, suppressing a low growl. “I’ll not be made a mockery of. That girl is mine… and I will have her.”

“I will do what I must.”