Writing Challenge: 100 Stories. 1 Month.

[Cali Schwa]

21. Alter

Looking down the long aisle Cali smiled at the sight of the alter. It was there and she was here. It was too far away. She wanted it to be closer to be nearer to her. The music started and it seemed like forever before they started to walk. Her father had cried that morning. Cali knew that he didn't want her to go, even if it wasn't far she knew he was dreading it.

Never has she seen her father cry. The day she told him she was engaged was the first. Tears poured down his cheeks. Cali didn't know what to expect from then on. It was weird. Life seemed so fast for her. Dating, marriage...a family. That was what was next..she thought at least. It all seemed so unreal so comic book like.

First though came the alter, the thing most men seemed to dread. The preacher standing behind it in his robe thing and a white collar. Seemed odd to Cali. Dressed in all white seemed like a joke to her, now it was a reality. Walking down the aisle to the annoying bride music wearing white, waiting for some weird man to say something so she can be married. It was strange. It never occurred to her that this would happen. The day she was to be a wife.

Never did she want this. Until the day she laid eyes on him. The valentines dance was such a beautiful mishap. She was never meant to fall in love, his eyes made that difficult, his smile made it harder and his kiss made it impossible. Steven meant everything to her and this was about to prove it. He knew she wasn't this type of person and he loved her for it, and she knew he wasn't and she loved him for it.

Her steps seemed to be taken forever. Cali watched as the flower girl's flowers seemed to fall in slow motion, landing at her feet. The white train behind her wedding dress slide over them as the alter seemed to inch closer. Steven was waiting there, that alone made her want to run up there. Cali hated not being able to be close to him.

Finally she reached the alter with the guy in the robe thing and the flowers and the bible. It all seemed too not Cali, and part of her thought that was why it seemed so perfect. Everything seemed new and fresh over and over again. Cali didn't even hear a word the man said. Everything blurred out when she looked into Steven's eyes.

He was wearing a black tux, something he told her he would never do. She would tell him later that she was glad he did, it made her want him even more. He left his piercings in like she had asked, which she knew her father hated but she loved them. Everything else seemed to daze in his comparison. The next thing she heard was him say "I do" Her heart skipped a beat. Nothing else matter and the guys words seemed to fade into the background. Next thing she knew she was getting nudged by her father.

Realizing what that meant she blushed, "I do". They turned to the ground and smiled as they walked back down the aisle away from the alter as Mr. and Mrs. Lagenski.

[Nikolai Campbell]

71. Branch

{This is loong. x.x Hahaha, My first- and likely only- challenge entry. Enjoy guys ~}
Niko woke up around five with about as much excitement in his eyes as when he'd fallen asleep at ten the previous night. He hugged his dog tighter- a good morning hug, then kissed the dog in his arms. Unfortunately, the dog wasn't wearing green. With a small frown, Niko pinched at the dog's fur.

"I'm sorry, I forgot."He whispered. It wasn't the dog's fault he hadn't put any green on, was it? He'd make it up to the stuffed creature and get something green on him, because today was special. Today, as he well knew, was Saint Patrick's Day. And if he was up early enough, he'd be able to catch James and Chase before they got their green clothes on, too! That was the plan.

With that in mind, Nikki went about his morning routine as quietly as possible. Chase's ninja training was paying off; he was doing a good job of it (not that he thought so. Every sound he made seemed amplified to him now that he was listening). In less than thirty minutes, he was ready for the day, dressed in jeans, a green t-shirt, and a green and white striped polo. He even had green socks! But, he wasn't going to show James those, because before yesterday, they were white. James probably wouldn't appreciate him coloring all over his clothes with markers. He knew better.

Niko looked around his room for green things for both Milo and his dog. Unlike the dog, Niko felt a certain responsibility to help the cat become Irish. Upon searching his desk, he found colored rubber bands. Perfect! With a smile, grabbed green ones and put one on the paw of his dog, and with another in hand, he went in search of Milo to tie it on her collar.

The cat wasn't hard to find. He was sleeping soundly on the couch where his older humans had been laying when he nestled there. For a moment, Niko paused in front of the cat, smiling. Milo had his paw up above his nose, hiding it so he looked like a ball of fur. He sure looked warm, too.

"Milo?"Niko knelt down, stroking the kitty's fur."Milo. It's Saint Patrick's Day today! We have to make you Irish before James and Chase wake up." The cat watched Niko with characteristic alertness. With Niko he was gentle. Despite the youngest human's age, he did not often cause the kitty pain. So Milo would extend the same courtesy. Why the little boy was tying something around his collar was beyond him, and what it was, the kitty didn't know. His eyes never left Niko's until Niko was picking him up and cradling him against his chest, speaking to him in the same way the older humans did.

"Milo? Wanna help me?"Niko asked."You're really warm. Did you sleep well? Do kitties have dreams? Was yours about chicken? Don't tell my dads, they'll get really mad if they know I'm giving you this. Can you hide it?"Niko hadn't stopped talking since he picked the cat up. He walked to the kitchen to get something for the kitty to eat almost without taking a moment to breath. Chase and James were more than capable of feeding the pet, and Niko enjoyed being trusted with the task just as any task the adults deemed him old enough for, but Niko loved giving the cat special treats. In his opinion the cat didn't get as much as he deserved. And today was a holiday! So when Nikki spotted a small clear container with several pieces of chicken set aside, he took it out at once. Perfect! Not seeming to realize that Chase must have set it aside to make packing his lunch easier, Niko set the cat, then the container, onto the floor. "There you go, Milo! Stay there while I go find some more green things, okay?" Milo had no intention of leaving the food unattended. The little boy would allow these luxuries, but the older humans would tell the little boy and kitty no, so Milo ate quickly.

"Green, green, green..."Niko murmured, scanning the living room. Nothing stood out. Nothing mobile or reachable, and nothing that'd go unnoticed. He peered underneath the couch (knowing fully well that James kept the house, couch included, very clean) and under cushions. Nothing green. When passing the window, however, the world began to look very green. Trees! Of course. Niko was sure both adults would be very upset if he left the house while it was still dark, but Niko slipped out anyway to retrieve two low branches brimming with bright green spikes. These would do perfectly!

Niko marched back inside, closing the door behind him. Now, what needed to be Irish today? James' left shoe, along with Chase's, and one of each of their coats got part of the pine's branch stuck into them. Nothing else seemed in need... Niko left the living room. From there, he put some on his dog, then some on his stuffed lamb's head. After a brief look around the room, that looked like everything. Niko examined what remained on his branches- he'd have to be more careful with how he gave away the rest. To rectify the situation, he set both down on his bed so he'd only use it if it was really important. Suddenly, the sound of water running made him jump. Time to go.

Niko ran for the kitchen, trying to get there before-

"Niko. Why does Milo have Chase's lunch?"James asked expectantly as the boy raced into the kitchen. This wasn't the first time Niko had set food out for the cat, but it didn't make it okay, either. Perhaps he should explain himself before James told him- again- not to do it.

"Uhh... Well, dad, I..."Niko smiled sheepishly."It's a holiday?"

"Don't give Milo people food. He begs enough as it is."James reprimanded, turning off the water and putting the Tupperware bowl into the dish washer. Niko nodded his understanding. Since James had already cleaned up whatever had been left of Milo's feast, Niko was now free to go around the house finding more green things.

Chase would have liked to stay asleep longer. It was a weekend, he was entitled to that luxury. And normally Niko respected that. But today he was awakened by Niko shuffling things around not-too-quietly. Chase blinked.

"Hey, kiddo, what are you doing?"Chase questioned sleepily.

"Looking for-"Niko stopped there, turning to examine Chase. No sign of green. He grinned, walking over to Chase without finishing his sentence."Dad," That was kind of a warning, wasn't it? Niko reached out and pinched his father's arm.

"Ow! Niko, what'd you do that for?"Chase questioned, sounding less sleepy than before as he rubbed at the injured area. Niko just grinned and left the room, knowing fully well that Chase couldn't catch up.

"Niko? Niko!"the older man called after him. Niko kept walking. He wasn't about to spoil the fun by answering Chase's question. Instead, he went toward the kitchen, only to be met by James who was- no doubt- going to find out what the yelling was about.

"Chase isn't wearing green,"Niko giggled. James smiled. Ah, so that was it. If nothing was seriously wrong with his husband, James figured there'd be no harm in going back to getting breakfast ready. Besides, knowing Chase, he'd just be happy he got to sleep in longer. Before James got the chance to tell Niko to go to the kitchen, the boy'd already slipped off in that direction.

Niko was hoping Milo was still in the kitchen somewhere, tempted as Niko was by the smell of food in the oven. Unfortunately, the kitchen was vacant until James appeared, trailing behind the little boy. The breakfast that followed was delicious- too bad Chase missed it. There was a lot left over, so he'd still get to try it, which Niko was relieved to know.

"I'm going to go watch cartoons, okay?"Niko stated, slipping away from his post by the sink to leave James to finish cleaning their plates. Normally Niko would have been in front of the television earlier. Until Chase woke up, he got to watch whatever cartoon he wanted to. Niko curled up on the couch, watching and giggling at the cartoon until he drifted off to sleep.

"Niko?"James voice questioned. Niko bolted up in time to see James walking in from the kitchen.

"I'm awake."Niko stated.

"I can see that. I think it's time for me to check on Chase. Would you like to come?"James offered. Niko grinned, jumping off the couch to follow his father into Chase's bedroom.

Chase was sleeping soundly until he felt fingers at his arms, pinching his skin.

"Ow! What the-"Chase opened his eyes, then blinked. There was James, his hand still on Chase's, and there was Niko. Both of them pinching him?

"I'm awake."He murmured warily, sitting up."What are you two up to?"

"Nothing."Niko answered, wrapping his arms around Chase in a hug."Good morning, Chase." Chase smiled. Pinching aside, it was nice to see both Niko and James up and happy.

Realizing he wasn't likely to get away with anymore sleep, Chase sighed and got up. It was probably time to feed Milo, anyway. Niko trailed him the entire way. When he reached the kitchen for Milo's food, Niko chimed in.

"I already fed Milo,"Niko explained.

"Your lunch."James added.

"Sorry."Niko offered.

"It's okay,"Chase responded, turning to make his way to the living room. Niko followed him again. Only when he was laying down, watching the television did Niko disappear.

Then, hands. Again. Pinching at his skin.

"Ow!"Chase exclaimed again. Of course, Niko and James.

"What are you to doing?"He asked. Neither seemed inclined to answer him. Now that they'd pinched him, they both walked away like nothing had happened. With a grumble, Chase went back to his show. Ten minutes later, Niko was back, pinching him again.

"Ow! Niko, quit that!" Chase grabbed the boy, determined to get an answer even if that meant holding him in place."Is this some kind of game? Why aren't you pinching James?"

"Daad! Let go!"Niko giggled, wiggling out of his hold. It wasn't hard with Chase laying on the couch. Once he'd escaped, he turned to Chase."It's not a game. James is Irish. Here, dad. Stay right there,"The joke was fun at first, but now Nikki wanted to spare Chase from the pinching so he went straight to his room, grabbing the branches off his bed.

Chase blinked. No he definitely wasn't Irish. When Niko returned to the room carrying two tree branches with most of the green picked off of them, Chase was understandably surprised. And when Niko thrust them out at him like he was offering Chase an award, Chase could only take them cautiously.

"Uh, thanks..."he examined the branches curiously. Niko giggled.

"Now you're Irish!"Niko stated. "Happy Saint Patrick's Day, Dad."

[Eli Morrison]

67. Persuade

"Eli, I can do it."

Mii pouted and crossed her arms as her best friend tugged the grocery bag out of her hands. He was already carrying the other two bags and a gallon of milk, but he wasn't going to let her carry anything. Not in her condition. "Mii, what did I tell you, back at the apartment?"

She didn't reply, just stood in his way. Even though she was a good eight months pregnant and felt like she was enormous, he couldn't be intimidated. Not when she only came up to his chest.

"That's right. I said I could do the shopping on my own, and that you weren't going to carry anything heavy. You're supposed to be resting, anyway." Like the good, conscientious New Englanders they were, they used cloth bags for their groceries. It wasn't hard for him to sling two of them over his shoulder. "And I'm fine carrying them anyway."

Tired of just rolling her eyes, Mii finally spoke. "It's not heavy. That's the lightest thing, and it's not fair for you to carry them. Give it back." She didn't grab for it, because she really didn't need him holding it out of her reach in the grocery store. It was embarrassing enough when he did it with things at home, but she wouldn't put it past him to do it in public as well.

Of course, attempting to explain to him that it wasn't fair for him to do that had been fruitless. "But if I don't want you to take something, putting it out of your reach only makes sense. It's not my fault you can't reach above my head." Eli had said.

"But I can, and you're not supposed to overexert yourself."

"Eli." Mii broke out her last weapon, the tone of voice she typically reserved for her brother Zach and unruly students. "It's a loaf of bread, vitamins, and two boxes of pasta. That's not heavy, it's not overexerting, and you don't get to make those kind of decisions. I'm not a child, or incapable of doing it, or your girlfriend. This isn't chivalry, it's annoying and condescending. Let me carry the damn bag."

"I'm annoying and condescending?" For the first time during the conversation, Eli actually considered what he was doing. A flicker of uncertainty passed over his face, usually completely impassive.

"Yes." Mii held out her hand for him to give her the bag, so they could leave the store.

After a moment, Eli turned toward the door and started walking. "I can live with that."

[Catherine Novella]

#17. Book

Cat walked into the library, her mind reeling. The day before she had found a book with no title. It was dark, covered and bound in leather, and it was filled with the thoughts of all those who had read it before. The book itself was not that interesting. It was the comments written inside that were. At first Cat was appalled. Who would write in a book? Then she began to read through it. Cat found the actual book to be about a student at Hammel. It was sort of a documentary on a student’s life. The thing was, though, there were no names. None through out the entire book. Not a single one. Only personal pronouns were used. Cat had looked at the book closer. It had seemed worn with age. This was probably due to the fact that this was most likely a journal, or someone’s personal view or something. In different colored pens and various places throughout the book cat saw that there were comments. Cat paid close attention. It was almost as if there was a conversation going on.

Cat, once she had gotten to the end of the book, found a note written on the very last page, underneath the very last line. Cat had read it carefully. She was amazed at the simple note: “you have read it, now follow the rules and write in here. This was my story, now tell me yours. Write the words unwritten. “Cat made sure to carefully close the book. She had found something amazing. Cat went back and read the whole thing again. This time though she read the blue ink. Just the blue ink. When she had read them over the second time she was almost at the point of tears. This person was alone. Always alone. The hid from the world. Once comment really struck Cat. When Blue, the writer, wrote his last words. It was, “I am not alone anymore, NO. Not alone.” this left many questions. Who was blue? What happened so that he wasn’t alone anymore? What made him write in The Book? After reading Blue, Cat just sat there.

Slowly Cat smiled. Blue had survived. That was good. Cat moved onto Pink’s writing. Flowy, and elegant Cat studied the writings, it just gave off a feeling of happiness. This time reading through cat made sure to sit silently and just let her mind absorb those feelings and emotions into her soul. Cat read carefully “On the outside I am happy. Inside I am mad. Mad I’m here. Mad I’m useless. Mad at them. They never loved me. Never. As soon as they got the chance they shipped me off here.” Cat understood it. She encountered this too often. Putting on a façade as to not let others know had become routine with her. It almost sounded as if it was routine with Pink. Cat had pretended she didn’t hear, she didn’t see. She didn’t feel and she didn’t think. The truth is she did see, think, feel and her. All of those things Cat knew well. Cat knew how Pink felt. She really did.

Pink’s last comment startled Cat. She wouldn’t have expected it. “I found a friend. They see me. They feel me. They know me. I don’t have to hide anymore. Thank you.” Cat was happy for Pink she really was. Cat craved more knowledge about Pink. In cats mind her story wasn’t finished. Cat was sure Pink had more to say, more to feel. Instead Pink went out and led their lives. Yet cat was not able to feel satisfied. She needed more, to be more informed.

Cat had to make a decision. Should she not write anything at all in the book? Should she give it to the librarian? Or should she write in it? Put her thoughts down? Should she leave it for the next person to come? Cat sighed. She was sure she had to do something, anything. But what? Cat was not quite sure what was the reason she had felt the need to take the book home. Maybe she just wanted to let the thoughts sit and collect? Or maybe she felt drawn to Pink and Blue and Black. Cat did not know. She did take it home though. Cat had carefully put the book into her bag and then she had gone home with it. When Cat had tried to sleep The Book haunted her. How in all the library was there this book yet title undiscovered? Cat made up her mind, no the book made up her mind. She would write.

So she wrote. Now six sleepless hours later she was done with her comments. She was done and The Book would go back to its place. Cat had added something to the book, in the very beginning, right after where the title should be, she had written “Words Unspoken:” That is truly what the book was. Words, unspoken. Cat put the book back into the shelves of the tales not yet told. She quietly walked away forgetting The Book with Black, Blue, Pink, and now Green. Hopefully someone would find The Book and continue the tradition.

[Conrad Manne]

25. Belong

"No, I'm not. Forgive me, but I don't want to go to Hammel. I want to stay here, with my family. I don't belong at your school. I belong here."

It had been a year.

Conrad took a break from his homework to flop down on the couch in the living room. He soon got bored of that though, and turned on the tv. When he was bored of that, he kicked up his feet so they were over the back of the back of the couch, and he was watching Law and Order upside-down. That at least made it a bit more interesting, and he didn't want to get up now and change the channel. (The remote had been fried by his electrokinetic roommate after her boyfriend had broken up with her, and they hadn't replaced it yet.)

It had been a year, and he was finally fitting in. It had taken a while, but when he talked about "home", sometimes he actually was referring to the Hammel campus.

The knock on the door made him look up, but he didn't get up. One of the housing staffers let herself in, leading a kid--a little kid-- into the room. "Hey Conrad. Which one's the open room? Alexander here is your new roommate."

Conrad managed to pull off a rather complicated somersault off of the couch that put him back on his feet instead of his head, and stood up. "It's the one next to mine. Hey, I'm Conrad Manne."

And sometimes, it felt like he was supposed to be there.

"Hey, Alexander. I'm heading down to dinner. You want to come with me?" Conrad poked his head into his roommate's room, where the kid was sprawled on his bed, scribbling in a notebook.

The younger boy looked up and made an annoyed face. "Alex. Or Lex. Or something that's not Alexander. My grandma calls me that."

He had to laugh, a bigger laugh than most people assumed he was capable of, his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking. "Fine, Alex. I'm still Conrad though. It's hard to get a nickname out of that one."

"Connie?" Alex smirked as he closed his notebook and got up, shoving his feet into a pair of beat-up old sneakers.

"No." Though Conrad scowled, it didn't reach his eyes, or his voice. "And I have little brothers, so I have no issues with hitting someone smaller than me."

Yeah, he was where he was supposed to be."

[Penny Stone]

4. Smash

It had come down to it.

Decision time.

Gabriel was dead. She could either stay in Pilot Ridge and what was left of MSAD, though she knew no one that would remain would care for her assistance or not. She hadn't been there long enough to make any lasting relationships, or even friends. If she stayed, she knew she would only be looked at as someone completely expendable. No one on the Hammel staff knew her involvement with MSAD, but she was an alumni, and could gain entry.

She probably could. But the more Penny thought about it--after hearing who was responsible for Gabriel's death--she wasn't sure her target was Hammel. They were all metas. They were attacked by stupid humans and their hatred for the unknown. Her brother was still in the hospital after a year. He was out of his coma, but he would never recover completely. He wouldn't be able to finish school to be a doctor, he'd never be able to live on his own. Penny could afford to put him through therapy, in hopes he could recover eventually on her salary from MSAD (and what savings she had put away). However, she wasn't sure if Nicholas would approve of her hurting their high school just for money and to exact revenge. It wasn't right and even Penny could see that.

She just couldn't do it.

The glass vase broke against the wall, a primal scream left her. She couldn't do either thing. She couldn't leave, she couldn't stay. She couldn't.

She looked at the shattered glass on the floor and pulled at her hair. A curse in Chinese escaped and she started to pace. Nicholas was such a good person, and the people that ruined his life deserved the absolute worst death she could possible exact on them. She couldn't do that without MSAD. She didn't have a bottomless bank account, or the seemingly infinite resources that Gabriel had had, or the experience. She would never last.

Her phone rang.

"Yes?" She asked, surprised to see her brother's name on the screen.

"Pen-Pen." She nearly dropped the phone. Since he woke up, two months ago, he hadn't been able to remember her. He had known that he knew her, from somewhere, but could never tell her or the doctor how he knew her. It broke her heart each time she gave him a hug and he just remained stiff.

"Nickle," she replied when she found her voice.

"I remembered this morning. You're my little sister. You are a meta like me, and one of the scariest fighters I'd ever seen. You always loved dolls but you would never ever admit it. And you remember everything." His voice was still slow, and a little slurred, but it was him. Nicholas was back.

"That's right!"

"Pen-Pen. I'm tried of being in the hospital. Can't we go home? You need to open your store like you wanted," he managed to slur out. "Gran said something about a man you were living with, to pay for my bills. I just wanna go home."

Penny didn't know what to say. He wanted her to stop paying her bills to do what she had set out to do after she got her degree. Did she still want to do that? Being in MSAD had certainly changed her life. She was a different Penny, a new and more lethal Penny. One that didn't want to open a store anymore. One that wanted to go on covert and dangerous missions to gather intel on people. Everything else was just....not appealing anymore. Her gift added to her effectiveness. Hell, if anything it made her want to join some sort of force--just not one that hated metas.

Another object went flying and smashed against the wall. Why did this have to be so complicated? Nicholas wanted to go home, but there was nothing there for them. She couldn't stay in MSAD, because she would hate herself (and Nicholas would hate her too). They could stay in Pilot Ridge, she supposed, but what could she do here?

"Fucking hell!" She growled, her hands on her hips. She sighed herself down on her couch and looked up when she sensed eyes on her. Paulo stood in the doorway, his face unreadable.

"It's two in the morning. Shut. Up."

The urge to throw something at him was the hardest thing she'd ever have to fight before. She bit her lip and nodded.

She'd pack her bags in the morning.

[Darryl Bond]

85. Paranoid

This would be the first day he would look after his son, and just him. Midori was back at working as a Recruiter and would be gone for exactly two days. Two whole days. Darryl couldn't fail at this. It was his chance to really prove he could be a good father, by looking out for the sixth month old baby.

Sure, he'd spent the afternoon with him, just the two of them. But Midori had always been within ten minutes away, with her hand on her keys. Darryl was really nervous about the next few days, but he had faith in himself.

He had totally baby-proofed his entire house. He got those electric outlet plugs, put child locks on all the cabinets and doors, pimped the guest room out into a totally bitching nursery with a changing station and crib and everything. He was totally prepared for everything.

Then Tory started to cry about five minutes after Midori kissed him on the head and left. The color drained from Darryl's face. Why was he crying? Was he hurt? He had just been playing with one of his brightly colored baby toys, then started bawling.

"Is it your diaper?" Darryl asked, as if he would get a clear answer from the squalling baby. "Ok! Ok!" He bent down from the couch and picked him up and felt the diaper for moisture; felt like a diaper. He frowned and bounced the baby in his arms a little as he went into the kitchen to get him a bottle--Midori had left plenty of food with him, as well as a strict schedule. He glanced at the schedule, and noticed it was a few hours before his evening meal, but Darryl didn't want to hear this yelling until then.

He popped the bottle into Tory's mouth, and looked alarmed as he kept crying instead of drinking the milk. He set the bottle down. "OK! What?!" He moved back into the living room, still bouncing him. "What, what, what?" He looked at the assortment of toys Midori had brought over, 'his favorites' she had said. He went through each toy and jingled it or put it in his little tiny hand. Nothing.

"Torrryyy, work with mee," he whined to the baby, the crying already giving him a headache. He scrabbled for his phone that was sitting on the coffee table and dialed the one person he knew would be able to tell him what to do; Elaine.

"Mom!" He couldn't hide his relief when she answered right away.

"Morgan told me you'd be babysitting for the next few days, and also warned me you would probably be calling,” Elaine sounded faintly amused. Darryl pouted out his lip as he balanced Tory in his lap and tried to distract him by tickling him. Didn't work.

“Mooom. He won't stop crying, and I didn't do anything. He didn't pee, he isn't hungry...he won't play with his toys. I dunno what to do.”

“Darryl,” she spoke in her urgent and momma voice, Darryl stopped whining instantly. “You are a father and need to cowboy up to it. You can't come crying to me every time he cries. You are his father.” Darryl frowned down at Tory, who had latched on to his index finger with that surprising baby-strength, and wasn't wailing as loud. “He probably just misses his momma, anyway,” Elaine tacked on as an afterthought, “Goodnight Darryl. You still need to come over for dinner, bring Emiko. That woman doesn't eat enough.”

“Yes, momma. Love you.” Darryl sighed as he closed his phone and adjusted Tory again so he was cradling him with both hands. “Is that it? You just miss Mii? Well please don't cry until she gets here. My neighbor might think I am hurting you or something....I'm not hurting you, am I?” He asked and leaned closer to Tory to inspect him.

He tickled his belly and the little guy laughed and squirmed. Darryl tickled him a bit more and he laughed along with his son. He lifted him up in the air over his head and grinned in delight as the baby squealed with delight, his little eyes looking everywhere, his little feet sticking out.

Yeah. He could totally be a father.

[Paulo Ortiz]

12. Crossroad

"Papi, where are they taking her?" Mateo cried as his father held him back, keeping him from running to the woman being shoved unceremoniously into a car by men in green. "Mami!"

Jose Ortiz shook head and his youngest son. "Three people died because of her. They're putting her where she cannot hurt anyone else."

Beside him, his oldest son, Diego, kicked the dirt walk in front of their house and nodded.

Paulo stood in the doorway, watching.

"Mateo, you're too old for this. Go sleep in your own bed." But the teenager moved over anyway, letting his little brother crawl in beside him. The eight-year-old curled up into a little ball, obviously not planning on sleeping anytime soon. "You have school tomorrow, and I have work."

"Papi turned her in."

"...What are you talking about?"

"Papi is the one who called the police. He's the one who had Mami taken away. He's the one who told them she stopped that car to save me." The little boy's eyes were wide and scared. He tugged on his brother's sleeve. Paulo was Paulo; he always knew what to do.

The teenager ran his hand over his little brother's hair, smoothing out his messy curls. "How do you know this?"

"I heard him talking to Tia Rosa. He said it was the right thing. But it wasn't! It was an accident!"

"You're sure?"

"Yes! He's talking to her on the phone, right now."

Paulo got up, then turned and tucked his little brother into his bed. "I'm going to go talk to him then, okay? You stay right here and go to sleep. I'll find out what happened to Mami, I promise." Again, he smooth downed his brother's hair, before getting dressed and heading down the hall.

An hour later, he returned to find his brother fast asleep, drooling on his pillow. He changed back into his pajamas and went to sleep in Mateo's empty bed.

*****

After Mateo left for school, the phone rang.

"Paulo," Diego said, leaning into the room and stopping his brother, who was tying his shoes. "It's Papi.... Something went wrong with the car. They don't know what happened, but he went off the road, into a tree...."

"And Papi?"

"He's dead. God, he's dead."

[Elaine Tonaya]

73. Old

The little yellow house was set back in the trees and couldn’t be seen from the main road. As the car rumbled up the long, gravel driveway, Cobalt almost found himself wishing this was his home. But then, he’d never thought he would settle down in Pilot Ridge, whereas this place was perfect for his oldest and best friend.

It happened to be a warm day, and Elaine heard the car coming up the path through the screen door. “Wipe your shoes and come in,” she called from the kitchen. “I’ll be just a moment.”

He smiled as he thought of his own apartment, where the state of one’s shoes was not considered when walking in the door. It was just another one of those things which made her the perfect mother and him the perfect bachelor. There was a row of shoes by the front door, and he took his off and set them next to the others. While the house was unfamiliar, it wasn’t hard for him to make his way into the main living area while he waited for Elaine.

She came out of the kitchen soon, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “You like the place?” she asked with a small smile. “It took a while to save for it, but I fell in love with the place as soon as I saw it.”

“I like it,” he said. “It’s very…you.”

“Descriptive.”

“Meaning it feels like home.” He gave her a big smile. “Can I have a tour?”

“Not much to see, but sure.” She took him on a quick tour of the three-bedroom house and backyard garden. “My favorite part of this house was that it had a big backyard with plenty of room for me to grow vegetables and flowers.” They walked back into the living room.

“The window here is huge,” Cobalt said, glancing outside. “Isn’t it hard to clean?”

“Just a bit, but there are chairs so I can reach, and it’s worth it just to have that sunlight streaming in every day.” She looked sidelong at him. “Though I guess you wouldn’t appreciate that, huh?”

“It’s a nice view, I guess,” he said with a shrug, “But then you’re right, I’ve never really liked bright sunlight or large windows.”

“Too bad. You don’t know what you’re missing, being able to curl up in a chair bathed with sunlight and read a good book for a few hours…it was something I enjoyed when I was little, and I still love it now, though I tend to fall asleep a lot more nowadays.”

Elaine went to the kitchen and pulled the lasagna out of the oven for dinner. The two enjoyed a nice quiet dinner, catching up on all the old news and enjoying each other’s company again. After dinner, and a healthy serving of apple pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert, they migrated into the living room again, where the sun had set and the stars were just visible through the upper reaches of the trees.

“My favorite time of day,” Cobalt said, stretching out on a couch. He was nursing a cup of coffee between his hands, using the drink as an excuse to not leave just yet.

“I’m glad you came back to Pilot Ridge, Blue,” Elaine said softly. “It was a bit lonesome here without you. I don’t always feel like I have to mother you like I do some of these other boys.”

“Always? You mean you sometimes do mother me?”

“You sometimes need it, especially on days when you’re really upset.” She said this so matter-of-factly that he couldn’t think of trying to argue. “The box of your cards and pictures is in your—the guest room. We should probably go get them.”

He ignored her slip of the tongue and went to help her with the heavy box. They sat next to each other and sorted through all the photos and memories, her giving a story behind each little scrap of paper, him listening to the life that he missed.

“And this was the Christmas ornament Morgan made you his second-grade year. The teacher said they should make one for their parents, and he said he had to get one for his uncle Cobalt.”

“This was Morgan on his fifteenth birthday. That idiot with the two party whistles up his nose is his best friend Darryl. They’re both teachers now, though you wouldn’t have thought either of them could have come to anything nearing respectable.”

“College graduation. Morgan didn’t want me to go, but I wanted to be there, even though the ceremony was too big to pick him out of the crowd. I was just so proud of him, the first in the family to go off to college. Except you, of course, but you don’t exactly count.”

On and on they went, and Cobalt began to feel as though he had been part of the family all along, which was true in its own way. By the time they were done, it was past ten o’clock.

“I’d better be getting home, Lainey,” he said, standing and stretching. “You’re going to want to go to sleep, and I know you have work in the morning. I do too, come to think of it.”

“Don’t forget to take the leftover lasagna,” she said, pulling out the tupperware container it was packed in. “I still don’t believe you can feed yourself, even after all this time.”

He laughed. “You spoil me. And I eat just fine on my own, thank you.”

“Take-out doesn’t count.”

“I’m a starving wretch.”

“There you go. Enjoy the food, and we’ll have to meet up again sometime. Maybe you can cook something for me, sometime. It’ll teach you to try a new recipe.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. I’ll just go with macaroni and cheese and hot dogs. That’s not really learning anything new.”

“It’s better than the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you would have offered me at one point.”

“I guess that’s true.”

As they said their final goodbyes and Cobalt got into the car, he looked back at the house once more, with Elaine waving to him from the doorway.

“If I’m going to get old,” he said to himself, “I guess this is the best place to do it.” Then he turned on the car and drove off into the night.

[Autumn Buckland]

38. Renew
-This may or may not be canon, please feel free to make up your minds ;3-

Gabriel liked the colour of the sunset on the sea, and the fresh bracing air that stuck tiny salt crystals to his skin, tickling his stubble and washing away the impurities of the days previous. He liked the gentle warmth of Solo's slumber on his chest, the fresh taste of the tropical cocktails and the slow bathing of satisfaction that radiated from head to toe.

His ultimate plan had, in fact, worked.

Those who sought to harm him believed he was dead, those who would have stopped his last final magnum opus were no longer to trouble him, and when they realised his elaborate plan it would be all too late. Of course, there had been prices to pay, and deceiving his allies was a painful necessity. He felt something akin to grief at losing the twins, Jake, and Jesse. He felt concern for Paulo, for Max and for Oliver, and even a slight, irritating pang of guilt for the utter lie he had inflicted on all of them.

He thought back to that night, when he knew that his number was up, and how he had retreated wordlessly through the house to the sub-basement, leaving his instructions to the man he had met so many years ago in Afghanistan. Gabriel had convinced the shifter that to die with honour was to help his cause, and the man had agreed - cancer had wracked his body and instead of a slow death, he requested only that those who had mocked him for being meta human could be punished. The game had been set and Gabriel had puppeted the dying man's body, shifting into a clone of himself, then walking back out, as though nothing had happened. The dialogue with Chase, the sudden squeeze as lungs that felt like his but were not ceased to function... then the release from that deteriorating body back to his own, hidden form.

He hadn't stuck round to really see what the twins would do. But he knew that for it to be convincing... convincing to everyone, then he would have to be gone and all his dearest friends would have to believe this. They'd have to feel the stab of sorrow for the loss of their leader, the dogs would have to mourn (something he felt especially awful for) and he would have to be gone. Forever.

The man swilled the cocktail in his hand, then carried on staring out to sea.

The car journey to the airport had been difficult. His recently opened account, and forged passports were the only thing he owned now, aside from Solo, who had silently stowed away with him as they'd driven -via taxi- away from the people Gabriel had trusted for many, many years. He'd taken a quiet first class seat under his new name; Andrew Farraday, and gone, without trace, out of the country, out of the continent and out to a new venture.

Gabriel discarded the cocktail and rose from his seat, walking back across the beach to the jeep parked up, swinging into the driver side and waiting for Solo to leap in next to him.

On they drove, through the island, stopping to greet those who were around.

"Evening Mr. Underwood." They called, smiling brightly. "How's the recruitment going?"

"Slowly." He replied silkily as he let the jeep rumble to a halt. "I'm very fussy about teachers, they're what guides the future, after all."

Eventually the drive ended, and the man stepped out, quietly polishing the sign on the gate of the grounds. Solo cantered off through the ground, happy to see his master more content than he had ever been. Satisfied that the exterior of the grounds was up to scratch, Gabriel walked inside the main building, up the many flights of stairs to the top floor office. Papers littered the desk, many with photos paper-clipped to them. Some were stamped red, others green, and more importantly, the forms he had worked so hard to be passed through and approved.

Dear Mr. Underwood

The government have discussed your ideas and find them to be refreshing.

Owing to your influence and life experience, we are happy to support your idea to open a private Meta Human school in Christchurch.

Included are the forms required by law to be filled in, and our continued support in keeping our young meta humans controlled and valuable citizens.

Mariah Surgie
Secretary to the Prime Minister

Underwood Academy had been officially bought several weeks later. The building was beautiful, a majestic area over seeing the beach and the wilderness around the South Island of New Zealand. Work had been done to make the building as beautiful and archaic as possible - with modern interiors, beautiful dormitories and comfortable teaching rooms with top technology.

Gabriel wished, just for a second, that Jesse could see this. That Jake could smirk an approval in the doorway. That Lala and Reese could help him silently sort through old and new accomplices to find the right people to teach Meta kids exactly how to be fantastic members of the New MSAD. An MSAD of intelligent, powerful people.

The Academy would be free, yes. But it would be selective. And Gabriel was certain that he could teach every pathetic human sympathizing meta that Underwood Academy was going to pave the way for a new and fantastic future. A future where those with powers were those with the strongest say.

Gabriel may have been considered "dead", yes, but he was far from it. And, with a flourish of a pen, he quietly sent two very special letters out into the world - untracable, but something of a rallying cry to those he had left behind...

MSAD will never be dead as long as I am alive.

Do not try to find me, for I will find you again one day.

Watch for the new future.

[Vincent Romanov]

99. Chaos

(Just before his military discharge)

The day had started out like any other in this sandy hell hole, hot and dry. He had been stationed here just on the outskirts of Iran's border for two months now, but this wasn't the first time he had been stationed in the Middle East. Vincent had spent more time in these sorts of places than he had ever really wanted. However, he was a soldier and like all good soldiers, he obeyed his orders and did his job with perfection. Vincent wasn't even sure why he and his squad were even over here anymore, the lines of reasoning had become blurred over the past few years and they showed no signs of getting any clearer. Perhaps it was getting time to pull out of the service, retire and take that pension which was eagerly awaiting him back home in the States. His father had been getting sicker by the week and while he didn't want to openly admit it, Vincent knew the old man only had a small amount of time left in this world. Maybe the military wasn't for Vincent anymore, perhaps it had moved on while he had stood still?

Stepping out of his tent, dressed in desert fatigues, Vincent squinted his eyes in the intense sunlight. A hot dry wind blew about, carrying with it small grands of irritating sand which seemed to find its way into any small opening in your clothing. His hair was sort of long on top with the sides shaven, his face without what would eventually become his trademark five o'clock shadow. Around him, the makeshift base was operating as usual, with marching drills, target practice and grunts running the obstacle course. At his side, tucked tightly in its holster was Vincent's 9mm Beretta, standard military issue and a decent firearm to fall back on when in a pinch. Vincent was a crack shot with just about any firearm, however, he was far from sniper material. Vincent hardly needed firearms though as he was a one man wrecking crew thanks to his meta-ability. He served with a few other meta-humans, although they were a rare sight in the service to the American military.

A deep sigh set off one foot in front of the other as Vincent moved off in the direction of his commanding officer's tent to be briefed on his squad's next mission. His eyes stayed forward, his posture perfect and his gait never faltering. Years of training had made him this way and to be honest, he couldn't be any way else. Nothing seemed to distract Vincent as he walked...nothing but the next horrible and familiar sound from the front gate of the base. A loud explosion and then a slight ringing in his ears caused Vincent to fall to one knee, his hand falling to his pistol. He fought every instinct to draw the weapon, but he did unsnap the buckle securing the firearm. Smoke rose up from the front gate, obscuring Vincent's view, but the cracking of gunfire told him what was going on. The base was under attack and that meant men, good men, were going to die. Standing and drawing his pistol, Vincent began his march toward the front gate. Throngs of soldiers poured passed him, carrying rifles and other small arms while several armored vehicles took up the rear. Every man at this base knew their job, but some of the newer recruits hesitated.

"MOVE IT SOLDIER!!!! SECURE THE CO'S TENT!!," Vincent screamed to some of the men who seemed frozen in place. The men jumped, their bodies remembered their training. They said nothing but moved quickly toward the commanding officer's tent as Vincent had ordered them. Just then another great explosion from the west wall, followed by more gunfire. Vincent lost all hearing in his left ear as he was closer to this explosion. The shock wave from the blast hit his body and was absorbed. Vincent felt himself grow stronger and turned to face the new threat. He was closer to this explosion and would deal with this threat first before moving on to the next. Several insurgents poured in through the newly made hole in the west wall. Gunfire from one of the watchtowers took down most of the invaders, with several rounds from Vincent's Beretta mopping up the ones who managed to survive the sniper fire. A few bullets from some of the insurgents pounded into Vincent's body at various places. The massive kinetic energy from each bullet fed Vincent's body, putting him closer to his offensive assault. The bullets rolled off Vincent's body and fell to the ground harmlessly, Vincent smiling all the while.

An RPG caught the watchtower which was providing Vincent cover, killing both men inside. It was here Vincent's demeanor changed, growing darker. He holstered his weapon and rolled his large shoulders, feeding the stored kinetic energy to his muscles to make himself stronger. One of the insurgents who had manged to slip in through the hole and along the west wall, now charged Vincent from the side, a knife drawn in his hand. Vincent's spun around deftly and caught the man by the throat, grabbing the man by the wrist in the process and breaking it. The man screamed out and dropped the knife just before Vincent tossed him sideways into the west wall. The force of the man's body hitting the wall caused the wall to crack even more and the man fell to the ground limp and dead. A few more insurgents poured in, glancing at their fallen comrade and then turning their guns on Vincent. Four men opened fire, the bullets having the same effect on Vincent as before.

Fear filled the attacking men's eyes as Vincent's speed seemed to double. Vincent closed the gap between he and his attackers within seconds. He dropped his shoulder, catching one insurgent in the chest, cracking the man's sternum. Grabbing the same man by the shirt he wore and his leg, Vincent tossed the man into the next closest insurgent. The two men toppled and rolled across the sandy ground together, leaving two more to be dealt with. Both men had stopped firing now, one of the men reloading foolishly. The other man tossed a grenade at Vincent's feet at which point Vincent closed his eyes tightly, covering his ears in the process. He might have been immune from the blast, but his ears were still harmed from the sound. The grenade exploded, kicking up sand and other debris, hiding Vincent in a whirlwind of sand for a second or two. The two insurgents stood still, unsure of what was about to happen and for good reason. Just as the sand began to die down, Vincent ripped through the obscuring sand screen. He grabbed the man who had thrown the grenade, ramming him into the west wall, feeling the man crack and break like a twig. The other man was already fleeing as Vincent turned his gaze. He quickly followed the attacker but stopped just outside the newly ripped hole in the west wall. A small rag tag army was quickly turning tail and running. It seemed the attack was a test run in the end.

Falling to his knees, Vincent grabbed his chest, his heart pounding fiercely. His ears were bleeding some from the grenade blast but they would heal with time, providing he didn't die from a heart attack first. Perhaps after this next mission, Vincent would take that retirement he had been thinking about? Then, with a deep breath, everything suddenly went black and Vincent fell forward, unconscious but alive.

[Esme Bakus]

98. Transform

Knock, Knock

Nate stumbled to the door. It wasn’t early, but it wasn’t exactly visiting hours either. The morning dew was just barely evaporated from the flowers, the early mist still a faint trace in the spring air.

Nate had been awake, but only barely, and certainly not prepared for the sight on his doorstep.

The one who had knocked was a girl -- no, a young woman -- no older than Kenny. Late twenties, at the latest. She was holding a large cloth bag in front of her and her wide blue eyes, in addition to looking vaguely family, held enough relief that Nate almost felt it himself.

“Ma--- Er…Are you Mister Lee?” She questioned softly. Nate squinted at her. God did she look familiar.

“Yeah. Who are you?”

Shyly she tucked a lock of her long hair behind her ear and bit her lip with a mock nervousness. Her eyes peered levelly at him through thick lashes.

Nate had to lean against the door to keep from falling.

“Fiona?” He whispered.

She nodded, fiddling with her hair again before shifting her bag to
her other hand. “Yeah I…Yeah.”

Suspiciously, he looked to either side of his house. “What are you doing here? How did you find this place?”

“I won’t stay long.” She said quietly, falling silent for a moment before thrusting the bag out at arm’s length. Nate blinked stupidly down at it. “Just --- take this. It’s for Jes--- well. Whatever his name is now. It’s for him.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “You hate each other.”

“I know he’s not in school.” She interrupted. “I know he’s run away…gotten in to trouble.” Her arm drooped and Nate took the bag. “He doesn’t belong in jail Max -- I mean, Mister Lee.” Nate winced at the use of his old name. “He just doesn’t. I might not like him, but he’s a smart kid.”

Fiona shook her head. “I can’t stay. But just…use it. Get him out of this town. Get both of you out of here. Things are different now, but it’s not too late for us to make something out of ourselves.”
Nate took the bag suspiciously and watched as the formerly impish girl who’d usually made his skin crawl crossed her arms over her thin waist and looked at him with a pleading gaze. She was different. They were all different. But she was really different, and it’d only been ten years. He looked her over and shook his head, running his free hand through his now salt and mostly-pepper hair.

“What happened to you, Fifi?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “Time transforms people, Mister Le---“

“Nate. Its Nate now.”

“Nate…” She sighed. “I ran when I did for a reason, Jesse didn’t get the chance. I just hope he’s got some time yet.”

“What’s in this bag, Fifi.”

She smiled, and the vague spark of her old mischief remained as she shrugged and turned to head off the porch. “Enough. And no more.”

“What the hell, where are you going?”

Fiona was already at the end of the drive and sighed, plucking at the hem of her camisole. “I can’t stay.” She chuckled. “Technically, I’m still on the run.” Nate raised his eyebrows again.

“It's time to really start over, Nate. None of this half-assed name changes in the same old town. It’s time to go.” Fiona turned her back as Nate nodded slowly and closed his door.

As surreal as the whole experience was, the bag was heavy. Heavy enough to be real. Fiona had come and gone as dreamlike as she’d always seemed to be, but that bag…he couldn’t figure out how she’d carried it. It was heavy enough that his shoulders were hurting. He dropped it on the kitchen table with a heavy thud.

He unzipped the carpetbag and his hand shot to his mouth.

Inside was enough money to bail Jesse out of jail.

And move.

To Paris if they wanted.

Nate ran to the window to try and catch Fifi, but she was long gone. The contents had to sum a good chunk of the Hart family fortune.

He had thought it was long too late to save Jesse.

But Fifi had never been one for charity.

And ten years wasn’t that long in the scheme of things.

“Time transforms people, huh?”

[Morgan Tonaya]

18. Package


“Dad! Dad! DAD! Daddaddaddad!!!”

“Woah! Geeze sport I’m coming I’m coming.” Morgan said, wiping tomato juice off his hands with a towel from the sink and meeting his energetic blonde son in the living room. “What is it?”

“Package, dude!” Chirped the seven year-old. He held up a small box in front of his freckled face and beamed at his father overtop of it. “See? It says Morgan Tonaya. Forward To--“

“Forwarded?” Morgan blinked and held his hand out for the box. “Give it here, wouldya Buddy?” The little boy nodded frantically and happily handed the box over, zipping into the kitchen and bouncing near the draw where the knives were kept.

“You’re going to open it, right Dad?” The little boy said quickly. Morgan chuckled, pulling his hand through his hair.

“Yeah. I guess I will.” He conceded, following his son and pulling a knife from the drawer. He turned the package over once and chewed his cheek thoughtfully. There was no return address, and he didn’t recognize the handwriting. Playfully, he grinned down at his son. “Maybe we should wait until your Ma gets home?” He teased.

The boy whined his eyes growing big. “Da~aaad!”

Morgan laughed good-naturedly and nodded. “Alright alright, stand back.” He sliced the tape off the box and pulled it away, setting it on the counter to remove the contents. Out of a mountain of packing peanuts, Morgan drew out an action figure. Hal Jordan. He smiled on sight and chuckled, running his hand over the slightly chipped green paint. A note was at the bottom.

“WOAH! Cool!” His son chimed, making a grab for the figure. Morgan let it slip from his hand as his son began to play, making the figure fly all over the kitchen.

“In Brightest Day, In Blackest night! No evil shall escape my sight!” The boy recited in his best impression of his father’s heroic voice.

Morgan sank slowly into the chair he’d pulled out from the table as his eyes, now weak without the bifocals he always wore, traveled over the words of the note.

Morgan---

Found this in the market. Its well loved, but it reminds me of you.

I hope you like it.

I’m still sorry.

JL


“Let all who worship evil’s might, beware my power---“

…

“Dad?”

Morgan blinked. “Huh? Sorry bud, what is it?”

Look petulant, the boy snatched up the note. “You’re supposed to finish it!” He whined.

Morgan laughed, though it was slightly forced, he gently pried the now crumbled paper from his son’s fist. “Green Lantern’s light.” He said softly, kneeling to embrace his boy.

“Keep that, huh Sport?” He stood up again and ruffled the boys hair, swallowing back the sickening feeling in his stomach. “And let’s not tell your mom about this one.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

42. Doom

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

"Our chances of success are slim."

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

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

Cobalt's features changed from grim to inquisitive.

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

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

Sean nodded in agreement. "Most likely."

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#40 - Rubber

The other man wasn’t looking at him. This was a bad sign.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re almost fifty years old and you have a doctorate.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“I’ve seen the books you’ve had to read. I remember some of them.”

“Now that isn’t fair. This is hardly the same thing.”

“How can you not read a map?”

“Reading a map and reading a case book are two entirely different skill sets.”

“Evidently.”

This was bad. His friend’s patience rarely wore thin enough for sarcasm. “Why don’t we just change the tire?”

“First of all, there’s no ‘we.’ You don’t know how to change a tire, and since my telepathy has yet to manifest in a way that lets me download skills into someone else’s mind, I’m the one who’d have to do it. Second, and more importantly, we don’t have another tire.”

“Oh. Don’t you usually have a spare tire?”

“I did, until someone let the garage catch fire.”

“I already apologized for that.” He usually didn’t smoke on the other man’s property, but he’d had a craving while his friend had been at the grocery store. He hadn’t wanted to make the house smell like smoke and it had been raining. The garage had seemed like an excellent compromise at the time. How was he to know that there had been an oil leak? He’d managed to get away unsinged, but had still felt terrible and promised to pay for repairs.

“I know.”

He wanted to be helpful. “What about patching it?”

“The hole is easily the size of my fist.”

That was problematic; Sean had very large hands.

“We could call someone.”

“Did you remember to charge your cell phone?”

“…no.”

“And my provider didn’t find it necessary to put a satellite in the middle of the Indianan woodland.”

So there was no way to call for help. With AAA out of the picture, and no ability to call friends for a ride – not that they had friends in rural Indiana – he could understand the other man’s frustration. This was why he advocated strong public transportation systems everywhere, not merely in the city.

Silence settled over them, which was problematic. He’d never been good with silence, and this was particularly awkward since they’d never run out of conversation topics before. Not once in thirty years.

The telepath shook his head and sighed. “We’re going to miss the wedding.”

He couldn’t understand why the other man was in a rush to attend the wedding of a woman who had called off their engagement, but he knew better than to say so aloud.

“We’re still friends. I’d expect you of all people to understand that.”

So much for traditional forms of politeness. Not that he minded his friend’s mind-reading; it was simply part and parcel of Sean, but sometimes he had to be reminded. Besides, he knew that the other man didn’t have the same level of friendship with everyone.

“And she was right to end it. If we couldn’t get over that issue, then we had no business starting a family together.” The telepath sighed again and hunched over the steering wheel. “I don’t begrudge her; her fiancé is perfect for her.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in perfection.”

“Josh.”

He knew that tone. Against his every impulse, he managed to stop talking.

They sat in silence for a while. He contemplated turning on the radio but decided against it; the other man would probably want to conserve battery power, especially since they needed the heater.

And then it was dark.

“Do we have any sandwiches left?

There was a pause and for a moment, he worried that he’d set his companion off. This was heightened when, without reply, the other man opened his door and exited the car. A moment later, he yanked open the passenger side door and handed him the cooler. “Check.”

He began to rummage, elated to find turkey a moment later. “Has anyone been by yet?”

“No.” The flares were still around the car, for what little good they did.

“Oh.” That was discouraging. “Do we have blankets?”

“The same one from last time.”

Last time, of course, was when they’d had a little too much to drink after going out to a reunion and had ended up half-naked in the back of the car.

“I did wash it before putting it back in the car.”

Of course he had. The other man was more organized that way. Still, he was reluctant to use that blanket now. And they still had time to be rescued. “Do you want a sandwich?”

“No thanks.” A pause and then the other man moved away from the car. “I’m going to check my reception again. Don’t wander off.”

He didn’t intend to, unless nature called.

As the taller man walked away, he added, “There’s a bottle in the trunk. Don’t use a tree because there’s probably sumac everywhere.”

And then he was alone.

Not quite alone. There were owls hooting. At least he hoped they were owls.

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

He must have dozed off. When he opened his eyes, his neck hurt and Sean was back. “Well?”

“No luck. I swapped out the flares and put a marking about a half mile back near the main road.”

“That should help.”

“Yes.” His friend’s tone didn’t instill confidence.

He offered the cooler to the other man, who fished out a bottle of iced tea and popped it open. “Half the guest list is going to think this is some passive-aggressive statement from her ex.”

“Why would anyone think you’re passive-aggressive? Nobody who knows you would think that.”

“I can count on one hand the number of people who actually know me.”

He also knew that tone. It was official; he had destroyed the road trip. He had to at least try to atone, and so he tried humor. “Which finger am I?”

“The ring finger.”

There went atonement through humor.

He was tempted to break out remnants from the Big Book of Jewish humor – stereotypical, yes, but a last refuge before delving back into that uncomfortable silence. Besides, he didn’t want his friend to have one of his black moods, not in the middle of the woods in a state they didn’t know.

As he was about to tell the squirrel joke, the other man unexpectedly closed his eyes. He knew that look too, and so he remained silent. A moment later, Sean opened his eyes, followed by the car door. “I’ll be back.”

He must have heard someone.

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

“It could be worse.”

They had managed to find a person to give them a ride into town, where they would be able to call AAA as soon as they had reception. And Sean had said he was fairly sure their rescuer wasn’t an axe murder.

So what if they were in the bed of a pickup truck and buried under a dozen dogs of all ages, shapes, and sizes? At least they all looked healthy enough.

Besides, for some reason, they were primarily flocked all over Sean.

His friend rubbed his temples, warding off a headache.

Right. Sean had that animal...peculiarity.

“We’re close to town. You can call her soon.” He tried to be encouraging.

“I expect you to explain everything to her when we get to Chicago.” That was progress. No more ifs but instead a when. “To corroborate my story.”

“I’ll happily testify.”

“There will be plenty of bibles for you to swear on.” Then, for the first time since hitting the woods, he cracked a smile.