yesyoudo
Wombat whirled, claws bared, hackles raised on the back of his neck. He thought he heard a whisper, like the whispers he’d heard when the cursed spirits hung onto him. He learned to eventually use their power, and could control them. He trained them to do his bidding using his own blood or the blood of his enemies, until he overstepped his bounds and got the spirits wrenched out of his very soul.
I use my own spirit now. It’s not as strong, but it does the job.
He pushed open the glass door. It parted silently, not creaking like the old B-grade horror movies would normally do. He heard the hiss of the neon sign over the general silence of the store. Keeping his claws open, he padded quietly down the cereal aisle, eyes warily looking side to side but more sensing with his aura.
you missusyou we missyou
This time he didn’t whirl, but stopped in surprise. The whispers were clearer but still overlaid, garbled. A ghost appeared before him and he slashed, gathering his auras. It screamed in pain and went at him, but didn’t even touch him. More ghosts appeared.
no humans needwe miss youtake ushold uscomfortmake us wholeyouheld us keptus safe needhelp holdcomfort whole
Wombat fell to his knees, holding his head. “Stop, stop!” Spirits converged on him, he could feel them battering his auras.
Safe saveus help saveus keepushold –
Mark.
His eyes flashed open and he looked on a woman, her hair cut short like an Initiate in the Cabal, a gentle smile on her face. Wombat stared up at her, his mouth parting in disbelief. “R…Rachel?”
Mark. Then he noticed that she was encased in green, translucent, just like the others.
“Ray, Ray, no, no, no!” He reached for her, but his hands fell through her. He lost his balance initially and stumbled, but righted himself immediately. “Rachel, not you, too!”
Rachel’s apparition followed him. Mark. I’m all right.
“You’re dead!”
I’m all right. She reached out to him. You release us.
Comfort wecomfortmake uswhole make youwhole release safewholelove quieteasemakequiet
You are in pain.
“No, I’m fine. I’m fine.”
Human paincomfortrelease comfort helpwhole make wholemissus you miss
Release me, Mark.
He raised his head, his eyes full of tears. “Rachel…”
Her ghostly hand pawed at his claws. Release us.
Comfortpainhelpus
He looked up at her eyes. “God'a mercy on yer soul, sheila." He slashed deep inside the apparition. Nothing happened. Not a scream, not a cry of anguish, nothing. But he felt something travel slowly up his arm, like someone anesthetizing him, and then he turned to the next ghost and did the same. The same thing happened. Soon, he was going through the store, slashing at ghosts, feeling more and more heavy, more and more sleepy, more and more at peace. They didn’t whisper, demand, cajole, or even talk. They only covered him like a warm blanket.
The next thing he realized was waking up, sitting in a mess of spilled cereal boxes in the corner of the store. Diffused light came in from the window, and the clock registered three hours had gone by. The ghosts were still with him, no longer angry, no longer hurtful. He no longer wanted to control or use them either. He lay back, comfortable in the embrace of spirits, like a man who's taken enough opium to be down for a week.
Soon enough, Sarah Beckham became “The Witch of Salem” and people flocked to her store to get love potions, money candles, and fortune telling crystals. Hardly any of the trinkets worked, but if you paid enough money she would call in her “assistants” who would make things work.
Meanwhile, Steven had a boyfriend that he had been seeing on the side, without Sarah knowing. After her second year at Becker College, where Seagn was tracked for veterinary training, it was found out that Stephen had contracted AIDS. Sarah sent a note to Seagn telling her not to return to Salem, that everything will be taken care of.
Seagn takes this as a challenge to find her brother. She starts at the usual places, hospitals and the like, but can’t seem to find him. To make a very long story short, she finds herself buying a small animal petting zoo that’s attached to a traveling carnival for the summer, which she uses as a cover to try and find her brother. In addition, she hooks up with a small band of pagan lesbian bikers called the Sidewinders whose leader takes a hankerin’ to Seagn. Okay, biker part was a little far-fetched, but the characters I created for that gang were too fun to throw away. (Grimaulkin’s name is taken from the gang leader – who also was insane but not quite as over-the-top as Grim-in-game.)
So for the CoH venue, Seagn is a pagan biker that’s part of a gang, who is on the search for her brother. The gang numbers 13, with the exception of “mattresses”. Seagn is not the recruiter for the gang, but could very well be in this instance. I might dust off the novella and pull out the characters to use them in altitis attacks.
"Whatever," Rosie replied angrily.
The woman chuckled. "Men, indeed," she replied. She sipped her own drink. "You can live without them, you know."
Rosie turned to the woman. She wore a black motorcycle jacket and had black hair with purple hilights. She wore tights with a pair of motorcycle boots. "Oh, let me guess," Rosie said haughtingly.
The woman laughed. "Of course, I make it obvious. Makes it a lot easier if people know where I'm coming from. My name is Shawn."
Rosie took the offered hand. "Rosie."
"Good to meet you. Care to talk about it?"
Rosie shrugged. "The usual. Guy says he loves me, gives me gifts, promises to marry me, then takes off." She stared at the mug. "Probably someone tiny, cute, pretty, and skinny."
"You're cute and pretty."
Rosie looked at her. "So I'm batting .500."
"Some people don't like skinny girls, either."
Rosie snorted. "I've heard that before."
"Would you like to be skinny?"
"Oh, no, that probably means I have to give up my soul."
"No, not really. There is a catch. No soul-loss required."
"Become a lesbian? Get raped?"
Shawn gave her an incredulous look. "No. It's a potion that one of my covenmates made, especially made for people just like you, who have been burned by their men." Shawn took a pull from her mug. "It's simple, really. You get to look as beautiful as you want, and all you need to do is hook a man and do to him what was done to you." Shawn smiled. "Ever mind the rule of three."
"What's that?"
"Whatever has been done to you will be returned to you thricefold. Very old Pagan law which, if we can choose to do it ourselves, we might as well, right? Why let the universe do it if we can make the universe bend to our will? That's what magic is, after all."
"Who says?"
"A bunch of old farts, dead now, but we like a few things they said. That's just a few. Interested?"
Rosie put the mug down. "I don't think so."
Shawn slipped a black business card under Rosie's hand anyway. "Just in case."
Rosie got up from the bar, leaving the card there. She turned her back on the woman and headed out the door, stumbling out of the elevator and almost tripping into the stairs. She straightened, didn't know how the hell she got home to her basement apartment. She fell face first onto her bed and fell asleep quickly.
The next morning she woke up, and after coming out of the bathroom, she looked at something lying on her bed, as if placed there by a gentle hand.
It was a black business card.
I can't bump into anything, I'm a ghost--
He slowly turned around to face a very tall, blueish-green skinned man. His costume was white based but a rainbow of color streaked in very wide stripes along the sides. His otherwise plain blue and red cape billowed in a ghostly wind.
"Mas," said the blue-skinned man, then morphed into a dark-haired, dark-skinned dapper gentleman.
"Doppy," replied Masonry.
"How did you like hell?"
"I didn't."
"Oh, nice place to visit but didn't want to live there?" He smiled and morphed into a demon-like creature, with small horns, ashen skin, wings and hooves. "Seems to be just the place for you."
"Not anymore. Move aside."
Doppy folded his arms across his broad chest. "Say please."
Masonry narrowed his eyes. "Please."
Doppy looked thoughtful. "Hm... nuh uh." Then he slammed a fist into Masonry's face.
Masonry floated backward, stunned at the surprise of the attack. Doppy pulled energy from around him and threw it at Masonry in a wave, coursing him back among the security guards. Masonry struggled to right himself. He felt something cold and sharp slice through his chest, then a bolt of ice freeze his arm solid. Something else slammed hard into his head, like a hammer of fire.
He stood, wincing, and faced a huge bruiser and two cops, one male and one female. Both of them were different than what he remembered. Before, they were merely white, faceless, nondescript as he looked in ghost form. This time the bruiser wore a black leather jacket, jeans and motorcycle boots; the two cops looked like police officers in uniform. All of them glared at him with eyes full of fury.
Masonry was going to utter something, but the lady cop drew her revolver and shot him. The bolt of fire went right through his head, the pain making him scream in agony. At the same time the bruiser tacked him and plowed him through the elevator doors--
------------
Jackie Risoti saw ghosts. She often saw them as they floated up through the morgue, lost and confused, and sometimes saw other ghosts guide them away. It was worse after two twelve-hour shifts, just like now. She worked in the lab on the other side of the newly established suite of rooms for a special and highly-sensitive patient whose own ghost she saw wandering on its own.
Jackie wiped her eyes and settled back from the microscope - then saw something flash out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a pair of ghosts fly into her lab. One huge man grabbed the one leading the chase - he was defined wearing huge pointy shoulder pads. The big one punched the other solidly in the stomach and then a fire sword appeared in its hand and he slashed at the shoulder-padded one's head. He jerked up in the air.
Three other ghosts were right behind the large one, a woman and another man. The third one she had often seen in the elevator to the floor, and took it as some sort of psychopomp, and was translucent. He raised his hands and yet another ghost appeared, and shot energy bolts at the pointy-shoulder-padded ghost.
All three of them pounced on the other, either shooting bolts of energy or firing fire and ice. She could only watch helplessly as the other buckled under their attacks.
"What're you doing here?"
Jackie turned to the wall and saw another ghost, this one in full color of red and white, with a red cross on his chest. She had never heard another ghost speak before. This one seemed to have a strange blue/black aura around him. She walked over to him, looked right at him.
He looked at her, too. "You'd better get back," he said, and waved his arm as if pushing her behind him. She moved back, her brow knitted in confusion. Three of the ghosts held the one they had beaten, who was limp in their arms.
"Oh, hey, Mas! Come to visit me? Here I am."
The ghost raised its head and its eyes blazed red. "You son of a BITCH." He strained against them.
"You should have known better when I beat you in the arena that time. It didn't take much. You going to run away again?"
"You can't hide behind this security forever. You can't live forever. I'll get past them, and I'll get you, I'll get your SOUL."
The man waved his hand airily. "You'll still have to go through these."
"I'll have help next time."
"I'm sorry," said the man in red and white calmly, "there isn't going to BE a next time."
The one in the center flexed his muscles but the three held him fast. He glared at them, and she watched as he slowly gained color. His shirt turned brown, his face wore a red mask. His hair became black. His arms were white bands, and his shoulder were brown with gold spikes.
The ghosts still held him.
He struggled against them, focusing his eyes on Jackie now. Slowly, his eyes began to register panic. He jerked his arms and knocked over a rack of vials. Jackie screeched and ran to the phone to get security. The man growled and then fell over, knocked over by some invisible force that sent him flying into the cabinets.
He recovered faster than expected and turned into almost a brown streak as he ran out the nearest door and down a corridor. The ghosts followed, including the one in red and white. "That's it, Mas, run like the coward you--urk!" Something yanked him back suddenly, snapping him backwards like a rubber band and back through the wall he had come out of initially.
Jackie looked at the shattered glass on the floor. She went to the closet for a broom, and opened it slowly, peeking in. She half expected the man in brown to come barreling out of the closet to choke her.
(Thanks Vagz, for letting me borrow E and Doppy)
"Purgatory: believed by Western Catholics to be a place of purification, usually symbolized by the soul encased in purifying fire..."
There was a light thud of a coffee cup across from him. He looked across the table to see a very exhausted Suicidal Wombat, called Womby.
"Got no sleep?" Idaho asked, slowly closing the laptop.
Womby sighed, raised his coffee cup. "Time travel'll do it to ya."
"Yeah."
"When're you goin' to Oz?"
"I don't know if I'm going to bother going."
"Why not?"
"The reason why I wanted to go isn't good enough anymore."
"To save your girlfriend?"
"No. To save Masonry."
Womby sipped his coffee cup in silence. "You gotta let 'im go, mate."
"You didn't see his face."
"Whazzit?" He focused on Idaho.
"His eyes...blazing - angry - full of hate."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, here . . . where'd you see'im?"
"Star brought me to see him. And Mr. Frost. And he was - he was so evil! The things he said. He threatened us." Idaho focused on Womby. "His face, Womby, I can't get it out of my mind."
"You will." Again, Womby sipped his coffee and his concentration slipped out into the distance.
Idaho said, "I want to see him again."
"Ya think that's wise?"
"I don't know, but I feel this pull... maybe if I talk to him."
Womby shook his head. "Ya said Frosty was there? If he can't talk t'im, nobody can't. They loved each other, mate."
"He didn't."
"Who didn't?"
"Masonry didn't. He didn't love anyone, I don't think."
Womby set the coffee cup down and stared at him. "Then why d'ya wanna talk t'im? He don't care. Ya can't change a ghost if it's hauntin' some'in."
"What?"
"I said, 'Ya can't change a ghost.' You can appease it."
"It must want someone to do something."
"Or is angry at someone for doin' something."
Idaho looked down at the cup. "Star."
"Hm, maybe. But you go there an' he says 'Kill Star,' ya gonna do it?"
"No," Idaho answered quickly. "Then that starts the revenge spiral."
"Uh huh." Womby got up. "Lis'n. I ain' tellin' ya how ta feel. But I wouldn't do it, mate. He's beyond redemption." He started to walk away, then turned back. "He committed a few mortal sins. Even God don' forgive that." He pointed to the notebook. "He's in hell, mate. Accept it."
The real Masonry could have cared less about art. He was a brute, through and through, caring more about battle and blood. When I lived in him, he thought proudly, he could have learned so much about art and beauty.
However, there were some days when he was called upon to be that Masonry. It was those days he showed some sense of enjoyment, knowing that as he killed something, be it with his mind or his bare hands, he besmirched the name of that man of stone. This way slowly, unequivocally, he broke its name apart further so that eventually the name of Masonry would be synonymous with the most vile things a human could be accused of doing.
It did help that this man called Masonry was not all human.
He was originally a Kheldian called a Peacebringer, but soon quickly tired of that descriptor. He had called himself Benakasar in the human language, because he liked the sing-song of the name. He termed himself a true artist, known for his ability to see beauty in anything, and to render in an aesthetically pleasing manner anything else, no matter how potentially crude. He was often called upon by interrogators to depict the procedures and results.
He frowned, looking at the man’s bruise, off by half a centimeter. He thought for a moment of the clone, and then of his faulty intel. The clone’s name was still Nate Greene, according to all his sources, and Duncan Idaho was a stupid nickname, not a real one. At least the girlfriend was right – but then, they expressed themselves publicly at the D, so it really was not hard to keep track of them.
The phone rang, a pleasantly jaunty tune from a human musical group called T.A.T.U. Their high-pitched voices pleased him, and he picked up the phone.
“Masonry,” he snapped.
“Mr. Masonry,” said a woman’s voice that had a gentle Indian accent, which was the only reason he hired her, “Lady Ashina would like to observe your next work.”
“Hm…I do not know a Lady Ashina. Who recommended me to her?”
He waited, his mind already connected to Himani, feeling the fear and confusion, and intensifying it. He loved the taste of it in his own mind, closed his eyes and savored it, listening to her fearful breathing over the phone.
“Well?” he demanded, and he felt the fear jump.
“I do not… I do not know…”
“Mmmhmm, I know…I sense that, and I am displeased.”
The fear surged and he was almost overwhelmed with the delight of it.
“Find out!” he snapped, and slammed shut the phone, but kept the connection through his mind. He stoked the fear, feeding her images of what he could do to her. He sat back on his chair, his mind lost in her fears, while his body ached in pleasure. For a quick, fleeting moment, he wished he had more time with the clone's girl. He could have torn her mind into a kaleidescope of terror, but it would have taken him a very, very long time.
No, this one was much easier.
"Is she ready?" He turned to the grey clad young man with the flat mohawk.
"Yes, sir."
"Did she give you any trouble?"
"Nothing we couldn't handle."
The young man opened the door for the other. He stepped inside a room, facing a woman with long hair that, inside, a woman sat alone on a stone bench, her ankles chained to it. Two men stood at the corner of the room. The man smiled and walked over to her.
"Duncan, what's going on?"
He blinked, caught himself because he realized he looked at her confusedly. Fool! Already failed because she used a different name than you expected. Already she is on the offensive.
"My name is Nate," he said, smiling again, though the warmth didn't reach his eyes. He joined her on the cold stone slab. He took her chin in his hand and turned her head. She resisted. He pulled her harder. She resisted further. He was stronger, and he would easily have twisted her neck around.
The smile became feral and the eyes turned steely as he leaned in and kissed her forcefully. He kept his eyes open as he kissed her, smiling as she winced in pain as he kept holding head still, deepening and forcing the kiss harder. He pulled back and threw her head back, so she almost fell backwards.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and his arm. "You'll need to practice."
She glared at him, then exploded in fire. His reflexes were faster, so he moved back and only was slightly scorched. He smiled. "Excellent. I've always wanted to do a piece in fire. But first, I must make you supple."
He turned to the men. "Gentlemen? Let us begin."
Six men appeared out of nowhere. He stood in the doorway and began to fully detail a systematic beating. First, clothes were torn off piece by piece, either by a knife, scissors, or brute force. He would make a comment. A man would reply to it. They would all laugh. This continued on, until finally the punches came steadily after barked commands. Sometimes she fought back, with fire, and once hit one man back, glancing his blow off.
The man launched himself off from the doorway with a growl, and looked at what the glancing blow did. Not so bad that the spreading bruise couldn't handle, but still off. He stood, debating the placement of that bruise in his mind.
She moaned, reached for him. He roughly pulled her up, hugged her nude body to his. "Hmmm," he crooned. "You don't smell dirty enough. Smell is very important, it brings a certain panache to the piece." He kissed her roughly again, then slapped her hard.
He tilted his head to see the red welt forming. "Oh! I like that!" Grinning, he slapped her hard in the exact same place again. "Oh, oh yes."
He rose. "Bring her to the room."
Some men grabbed her and dragged her down the hall. They went into the room first. When it was secure and presentable, someone came out and nodded his head. There was a huge room, about 12x12 that looked like a stadium. The man walked in, stripping as he went. There was applause throughout the room as he discarded piece after piece of clothing.
He stood before the assembled crowd his arms raised in jubilation. "I am perfection!" he cried, and the audience of men and women applauded. "I am true beauty." He turned to Ariel, now bruised. "This imperfect creature, I will attempt to make true beauty." He stared at her with undisguised contempt. "To think that Masonry's clone accepted you as beautiful. He must be blind and stupid."
The audience laughed. Then he began, again, a fully orchestrated beating - and now cutting - session. She tried to fight, but her flames became weaker and weaker. He smiled, leaned forward and pressed his naked body against hers, "I can do it better than him, make you ache for me all the time. Make you want me."
His voice didn't change. She looked at him, her eyes full of tears. "No."
He slapped her, the tears flying out of her eyes. "I think a black eye is due. In a couple of minutes..."
He kissed her. She tried to keep her mouth closed, but he pinched her, and she gasped. He forced his kiss on her again. He manipulated bruises and made new ones, and then he sat back to look at his handiwork.
A couple of things were wrong. As he wondered whether he could repair them, someone poked his head in and said "Mr. Masonry, they're getting closer."
He glared at the man. The man retreated quickly, a look of absolute fear crossing his face. He glared at her. "Bah, this is useless. Substandard material. I can't fix this ugly mess." He slapped her. "Get rid of it. Do what you want with it. Just get it out of my sight. Oh, wait--"
He grabbed the body, turned her head and slapped her forehead. Ariel's head lolled sideways. "Hmmm, my sweet... Give a message to your brave, brave 'Duncan': 'Stop searching. This is your warning.'"
As they dragged the body away, he said, "Maybe the next one he gets will be a little more workable." He chuckled, looked up at the audience and said, "And he will always have a 'next one'."
(Character of Ariel was used with permission, thanks! :) )
Timetripper tried not to laugh as she manhandled the shop-vac into the quiet room area. Idaho bent to help her.
"Thank you, Sonic, for stating the obvious," Idaho snapped, bringing the vacuum in. "Now help me with this table?"
Sonic Butterfly flitted down on his gentle wings and took one end of the table. With a quick thrust of his rocket boots, he lifted the table and helped guide it out. Trip started the vacuum and the men went down the hall to talk.
"What the hell happened?"
"I brought Ariel down here for a talk."
"Ariel. Oh, the new chick. I can't keep 'em all straight, Idy." Sonic pretends to pull out a small notebook and makes a flipping motion, then pretends to pull out an imaginary pen and poises his hand over the imaginary notebook. "C'mon, details, man."
"I don't kiss and tell."
"Fuck you," he snapped jokingly. "You got laid at least? Chanted her name like I told you?"
Idaho rolled his eyes and turned away.
"Find the cli--"
Idaho whirled around quickly and punched him solidly in the jaw. "That's enough!" He burst into flame.
Sonic flipped head over heels in midair and forced himself to back away. Sonic laughed. "Idy's in love!"
"So what?" he snarled.
"Dude, you're not supposed to love 'em."
"I'm sure it's better if you do."
"No, it ain't. 'Cuz women hurt you, man, the sooner you realize that, the better."
"I hurt her first."
"Oh? Howzat?"
Idaho motioned pulling out an imaginary pad and pen. "My list."
Sonic nodded. "Oh yeah, man, you gotta stop bein' so nice t' people."
"It's the way he is, Sonic." Trip approached the two men. "Duncan, can you go burn the stones and dry them? I'll go get some new mats in a jiffy." She looked at Sonic. "Better get some ice for that jaw."
"Aw, c'mon," he pouted, "can'tja heal meh?"
Trip glared at him. "You deserved it." She walked on into the workshop.
Sonic flittered over to the quiet room and peeked over the now scorched bookcases. "Hey, Idy?"
"Hey, Sonnie?"
"Listen, man, I'm sorry. But, hey, uh... d'ja use protection?"
Idaho stopped sending bursts of fire along the floor to look up at him. "No."
"Aw man, did she go use Plan B?"
"Sonic, I don't--"
"Dude. You don't want little fire babies runnin' around already."
"They say clones are infertile."
"Doncha think you should get that checked?"
Idaho looked at the area they had been in. "I will, after this."
"Good man. I'm too fuckin' young t' be a godfather."
"Sonic, you're in your 30's."
"'at's what I said..." And he flew away.
"Darce? Darce, what's this?"
Darcy looked up at Idaho. "I changed my mind. I'm staying."
"You are?"
Darcy finished stirring something in a pot. "An angel appeared out of Galaxy City and talked me into staying here."
Even Idaho knew who he meant by "an angel." "But you said that you were having a hard time starting up what you wanted to do. Half the city hates him."
"I know, I know, but she begged me. She got on her knees on the side of the plaza and begged me." He turned to Idaho. "What was I gonna do after that, say no?"
Idaho stared at Darcy. StarWyng? Landing? And then begging?
"While she was there, it hit me. I came up with a compromise." He poured macaroni from the pot into a colander. "I told her that I'd open up an office in Texas and live up here. I'll probably have to commute a lot, but I'll come back up here--"
Darcy was cut off by Idaho suddenly hugging him. "Geez, man, I've never seen a more huggy bunch than you heroes."
(The title comes from StarWyng saying to Masonry "I touch ground to say this" - her way of saying this is the highest of oaths she can offer.)
Idaho looked up at Darcy, who stood in the doorway of the bedroom.
“How’s it going?”
Idaho put down the crossword puzzle he was doing. Darcy smiled. Idaho followed Darcy’s gaze: “What, he did those?”
“No,” Darcy said. “He never did.” Darcy sat down on the edge of the bed. “Listen, Duncan. I’ve been thinking.” He picked up the scrapbook of Masonry’s exploits for the year that he had been a hero. “I’ve been unfair to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“From the moment you came out of that tank, I compared you to Nate. I wanted you to be him.” He held the scrapbook to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“But that’s all right.”
Darcy, with tears in his eyes, looked at him and smiled. “It’s not. You’re not a copy. You’re his twin.” He rapped Duncan’s head gently with his knuckles. “Get that through your thick skull, please.” He got up, holding the scrapbook close. “I’m going to be going back to Texas. I’m going to start up a Foundation there in Nate’s name, a foundation that’s going to start training social workers and teachers nationwide to help kids against bullies, teach bystanders stop helping bullies, and help kids who’ve been hurt by bullies, so hopefully Nate doesn’t appear again.” He peered at Duncan. “I’m going to need your help.”
Duncan jumped up. “Sure, whatever you need.”
He tapped the scrapbook. “Don’t bother them anymore.”
Idaho focused on the scrapbook, then nodded.
“I’m moving out after the first of the month. I’ve paid up until January. The landlord won’t mind you staying, or if you bring on a new roomie. I know that the base has a bedroom. I suppose you can stay there, I don’t think they’ll mind.”
“Y…you’re leaving?”
Darcy clutched the scrapbook closer. “Duncan, I have to. You have to be Duncan Idaho – or any other name you want. You can’t do it with me around.”
Idaho looked around, slightly scared.
“What about that Pill you told me about? She can help you out.”
“I could stay with her…” he mused. “Or she could at least help me figure out what to do—“
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Darcy said, exasperated. “We’ve gone grocery shopping before and things like that. I’ll help you with that before we leave, and the landlord’s a really nice guy. You’re not stupid, just young. And Karen could help you, too. There’s a line of ladies who’d help you with all kinds of domestic chores.” He grinned.
Idaho blushed. “I know, I know.”
Darcy sat down on the bed and said with a smile, “Nate told me about all his girls…”
We have reason to believe that your domestic partner, Nathan Joseph Greene, has passed away quietly as of November 22, 2007.
He was initially discovered in his granite form encased on a hill at the Monkey Island Asylum for the Criminally Insane, Cutlass Island campus on November 18, 2007. For four days there have been no signs of life via technological or magical means. The death has been ruled a suicide.
After discussions with asylum personnel, the body can remain in its present state if you so wish. If you wish it to be excavated and moved, we may be able to assist you.
We at the Federal Bureau of Superhero Affairs express our deepest condolences.
Sincerely,
Agent Nyx,
Assistant Researcher
It was a calling. Idaho paused a moment to turn and look out into the bay at Talos Island, away from the land and out into the ocean, westward.
Nate'd be proud of you, son.
Idaho turned, burst into flame like he did when he was startled. A white-haired, dark-skinned, bearded man with glowing white eyes sat among the boxes. He was transparent, like many people who wore invisibility cloaks.
The man wore a cowboy hat, long duster coat and carried pistols. He looked like he had stepped out of a western. He smiled. This was my favorite lifetime. I was a scout and later a lawman in the Dakotas.
"You read minds?"
He chuckled. I'm a ghost.
Now Idaho noticed the man's mouth didn't move. The man stayed there, seemingly frozen.
"You know my original?"
Knew. He's dead.
Idaho blinked. "D...dead?"
Your agent friend will tell you soon enough, Duncan, I thought you'd rather hear it from me. Yes, indeed, Nate would have been right proud of you. It's good you didn't see him as he was before he died, Duncan.
"Who are you?"
He sang a few notes and then said, That translates to Lodestar. I was his Kheldian bondmate. I loved Nathan Joseph Greene. I died in his body.
"Where..." Idaho's sudden tears dried as the fire caught them. "Where's the body?"
Lodestar faded away slowly. I now join my friends, he said smiling. You are not Masonry, you're your own man.
The last word faded among Idaho's flames and the ocean's wind.
No, he won’t.
Lodestar and Mason both realized it at the same time. They both realized that he would never be released from the asylum, and both realized they would live long lives here. Lodestar knew now he had waited far too long. However it didn’t mean he would permanently give up. As long as he lived, he would watch for another chance to change him. He knew Dais’ke was the last link. At Dais’ke’s look of anger, Lodestar felt the link snap.
Now Lodestar knew he had free reign. All he needed to do was begin concentrating on this new Mason creature living inside this body, to work with it to exorcise it, change it or—
Then darkness crushed him.
-------------------------------------------------
Agent Nyx watched as the three people who were visiting Greene teleported away. He knew from Masonry’s files that the man could turn to stone, but when he did, he breathed. This time he turned to stone and sunk into the ground, not breathing.
As the PPD officer disappeared, Nyx went over the rise, summoning the asylum personnel who had been within shouting distance. He knew a simple stethoscope would go through the rock, so he had already sensors for Kheldian essences and human heat. Nothing registered.
He asked for further monitors and sensors. Whatever could be portable was brought up, even some mining equipment and other gadgets that they had used to find trapped miners by sensing body heat through miles of rock. Finally, at 3 a.m., Nyx noticed the humans around him were exhausted, so he set some permanent monitors around Greene and headed to the office to make his report.
One of the asylum personnel looked back at the stone set into the hill and said, “Looks like a tombstone.”
Nate blinked in total surprise. Then Lodestar changed before his eyes into Daisuke, who looked at him with eyes full of anguish. "Look at me, Mase," he said in Daisuke's pain-filled voice.
Stepping back, Nate focused on Daisuke.
"Why did you put our love away?"
"Because it's feeling. I can't feel it. It will bring up hate."
"This . . ." He turned into Fyre, her eyes blazing red, the area around her all aflame; "is not this. . ." He turned back into Daisuke in his cowboy outfit, what Nate considered his favorite outfit.
"You saw I was angry at him - "
"You didn't feel him." Lodestar as Daisuke stepped back. "I know your memories. You were able to comfort people. You felt their pain. You understood them. You cared."
"It was a sham."
Daisuke faded, and Lodestar appeared with a knowing smile on his face. "Liar," he said. "Lies upon lies, upon lies. Expose one lie, another is there." Lodestar looked around. "I can't lock you away. I can't lock you out. I can't rightly lock myself out because there are too many things going on around you that I will need to know about and possibly intervene."
Nate's eyes narrowed. "Oh? Now you're going to intervene? I thought that you, as a guide, don't do that."
"A guide needs to know the direction. He needs to be the leader and knows where he's going."
He paused a minute to let Nate think about what that meant. Nate's eyes widened slightly. "You don't know where you're going."
Lodestar gazed at Nate. "It means, Nate, we need to walk this path together. It also means that I never, ever, want to see that look of anguish on his face again." He pointed. "Go out there."
Nate’s mind was empty and gray. Whatever light existed was diffused, blank, empty. The world was flat. No scent was carried along an existent wind. Where was the grass, the fire, the blood, the flesh?
He stood surveying the scene, as Nate appeared beside him. Nate was dressed in gray, in the same colors as the asylum’s uniform, the only difference was his hair was black. Lodestar smiled at him. “Want the car back?”
Nate focused on Lodestar. Lodestar stepped back for a moment in fear. Nate’s eyes were also gray, empty.
“Nate, I don’t think you’re ready to go back out there.”
“There’s nothing left for me here. I’ve done all I could. I’ve exorcised all the dead demons and put aside all the ones that were living.” He pointed over Lodestar’s shoulder. “Now I need to confront the ones out there.”
“You’re just as dangerous. You don’t feel anything.”
“I never did, Lodestar.”
“Of course you did. You still love Dais’kay--“
Nate suddenly collapsed. Lodestar went to his knees beside him and watched as Nate grew even grayer, as if blood flowed out of him. Then Nate himself faded slowly, even while Lodestar tried to gather him in his arms. As Nate disappeared, Lodestar whispered, “You’re not ready, Nate…”
The unburied. No rites were given. Our shrouds are gray. We have reasons to be here. Suicide. Murder. Revenge. Love.
I know not his. I know not theirs. We will know when it is complete. Shikome binds us. She is bound. We are summoned. We obey. She has reasons. I know not hers.
I have been here long. My heart was torn. I do not know this sometimes. I know only what her wishes are. I obey her wishes.
Shikome cannot speak. We express her wishes. We do not ask. She knows our reasons. She dismisses as we finish. We return to Yomi. We wait for life.
Nameless. Unknown. Forsaken. Lost. Abandoned.
Oni comes . . .
Lodestar knew that sound well. It was the sound of something forcibly entering a human body. The object was usually not sharp, but didn't have the same "crunch" or "pop" as a hammer or a bat. This object would actually go through the body somehow.
Slurp - Thwunk.
Lodestar stared at the mass on the ground that might have been a man but was now a pile of flesh, blood and bones. He looked at Nate, who had a wild, feral look, as if he would jump over the pile to attack him in the same way. Nate had in his hand a simple carpenter's hammer, full of blood and gore.
If I leave him alone with this he'll be stuck here forever, killing the man who frightened him more than anything, the man who actually beat him within an inch of his life; who, when Nate didn't do what he demanded, proceded to beat him with a paddle used for paddle-ball, broke it, grabbed a poker, then started beating him with that. Then the man proceeded to get his way anyway.
Nate was five years old and wouldn't sit on his uncle's lap.
"Nate, look at me, Nate. Focus."
He looked up, took a shuddering breath, looked down at his handiwork. "I hate him, I hate him."
"He's gone. He can't hurt you."
"He hurts me here!" Nate grabbed his chest.
Lodestar kicked the body. "You've gone beyond this, Nate."
He looked up at Lodestar. "What do you mean?"
"You know what he was trying to do, your uncle the pedophile." Lodestar stepped on the mass of flesh. "But it didn't get to you, you know why?"
"Why?"
Lodestar smiled at him. "You love Dais'ke."
He looked confused.
"You can love a man or a woman. Some people can't after being exposed to that." Lodestar looked into Nate's eyes and said, "Let it go."
Nate stared at him, dropped the hammer. It disappeared before it hit the ground.
"No."
"Oh." He looked down disappointedly. "Anyone?"
"Star."
He smiled. "She a good person."
Lodestar sat down and nodded. "That she is. A rare pure jewel."
"I don't hate her."
He said nothing, looking across to him.
"Daisuke," he said wistfully. "He's left me."
"Nate, I don't--"
"I don't really blame him. I was never good for him. I destroyed him."
"Nate, he hasn't left you."
"Nothing. Not even tried to find out how I was doing." He sat back down again. "I hurt him so much." Nate focused on Lodestar. Nate's eyes were clear, without any anguish. "Lodestar, it's okay." He looked down. "He doesn't want me anymore. I've hurt him too much."
Lodestar touched Nate's hand. "I don't think he's left you. I think he's giving you time to be alone so you can work things out here," he gestured to the empty land before him.
"If he never comes back, I'll be all right. I'll just move on, find some nice girl, or find no one at all."
Lodestar looked at Nate's face, studied his aura. He hid nothing, no anger, no defiance, no lying. "You're serious."
He nodded. "I'm sad, but I'll be all right. I couldn't take it out on him."
"Will you take it out on anyone?"
Nate smiled slightly. "I'll try not to." Lodestar looked beyond Nate to see a woman standing a few feet behind him. Nate didn't turn around to see where Lodestar was looking.
He sighed. "It's my mother." He got up from kneeling on the ground next to Lodestar. "I'll be with her for a while, but if Daisuke comes..."
Lodestar nodded and watched Nate turn to go back to see this woman - who had knives sticking out of her back.
As he "walked" the land grew brighter, softer, and soon grass appeared beneath his feet. He saw the man in the center of it all, and quickly took a few steps to arrive at his side. Nate had become the small pharmacist that he had been before taking the "concoction", and he was sitting on the ground, looking up at a very tall and big woman who was yelling at him:
"...and don't think that I don't know what you really wanted out of me. You wanted my money, my father's money--"
"Nate," said Lodestar gently.
"--and you thought you could take over his business - what makes--" Suddenly she stopped, as if caught in a freeze-frame. The dark haired man, wearing thick round glasses, turned to Lodestar.
Lodestar knelt so he was at the same level. Nate said quietly, "Is it time?"
"They need you to awaken."
He looked down, away, glanced up at the woman. Lodestar followed his gaze. "Lodestar," he said, "You know how when people go on long vacations, they need someone to feed their cats and start their car?"
"Yes."
"Can you do that for me?"
Lodestar put a hand on Nate's back. "Of course, I can."
Nate smiled a little. "You can take it out for a spin, but don't scratch it up."
Lodestar chuckled. "I promise to take good care of it." He tilted his body to look into Nate's eyes. "What about Daisuke?"
Nate nodded slowly.
Lodestar nodded and the pressure on Nate's back faded as Lodestar disappeared. Nate looked back at the woman, and said, "Tell me again, Denise, the last words you said to me before you dumped me..."
---------------------------------
"Wake him up."
The orderly said, "I'm sorry, sir, but Dr. LaPlaca has left str--"
The agent pulled out a gun and pressed it against Masonry's bicep. "Wake him up the easy way or I'll wake him up the hard way."
"Put away the gun," rumbled a voice from the bed. Masonry's eyes were still closed as he said, "Untie me, please."
"I need to get Dr. LaPlaca," offered the orderly.
"Do so, please."
The agent put his gun away with a leer. "So, Mr. Greene, since when did you get telepathic powers?"
A bright white fluffy ball of light floated downward to land in the palm of Masonry's hand. It brightened for a moment as it sunk into the hand and disappeared.
The orderly returned with the doctor. "Nate? You're awake?"
"I am awake." He opened his eyes, the burning white light emenating from them.
"Lodestar," the agent sneered.
"Untie me please," Lodestar said to the doctor.
The doctor nodded, so the orderly began removing the restraints. "Where's Nate?"
"In therapy."
The agent snorted. "Hiding."
Lodestar sat up, pointedly ignoring the agent. "My presence here is to keep the body alive and functional. No more unless asked." He turned his burning eyes on to the agent. "I do not work for you or your organziation, Agent Perry."
"But that body does."
Lodestar smiled coldly. He slapped his hands on his thighs, turned to the orderly and said, "I aym faimished. What'sa guy gotta do t' git some'n t' eat, roun' these parts?"
When I'm stuck, I pull out the cards. I have the Robin Wood deck, which I think is beautiful (though overtly caucasian) and simple. I usually cleanse them through incense, passing them through the cloud, then through a candle flame. Then I shuffle, thinking about the question. Sometimes I cut the deck into three piles, sometimes two, sometimes I just pull one out. In this case I just picked the top card.
Eight of swords.
Swords is a suit of action, mostly drastic or "bad". Swords cut, after all. In this deck, the card shows a woman tied up or in restraints standing on a desolate seashore, with eight swords surrounding her. It means being held back, tied up, restrained - and no one can help (the swords stop them). Mase is restrained with more than cuffs on his wrists and ankles. He's restrained by his own anger (also the swords). Swords cut him and others. His anger hurts himself and others.
Who is he angry at? This is what he's going to be out of it for, to try and figure it out. But the body can't just lay there...
Once I remember going to a workshop/seminar on writing and the person there suggested using flash cards with words on them as a spark to writing. I had a better idea: Tarot cards.
Quick and dirty history lesson: Tarot decks were the harbingers of our playing decks. (Spades = Swords; Hearts = Cups; Clubs = Wands; Diamonds = Pentacles/Coins, and the Joker was the number 0 of the deck, the Fool) Where they came from is debated, how they changed from fortune telling to poker is another story too. They lost the Major Arcana, the number 0 - 21 cards. The ones you hear about "The Devil" and "The Lovers" are the Major Arcana.
Tarot decks originally had the number of the item printed on it and that's it. Eight of rods had eight sticks. It's believed that the Rider-Waite pack, under the direction of the Golden Dawn, is the first deck to use pictures in the minor arcana (the numbered and suited cards). These pictures, along with their interpretation, can usually spark a seed into at least sticking its head out of the sand.
When I'm stuck, I turn to the cards. People have different ways of preparing the cards for receiving. I'll tell you what I do later.
Shoot, falling asleep...
"I hurt you, and I'm sorry."
Frosty turned away. "You're always sorry."
"I know, I know, you think I won't change."
"It's your nature."
"It is NOT my nature."
"Then why do you do it?"
"Because I'm a kid with a gun."
Frosty closed his eyes. Masonry went to put his arm around him. Frosty shrugged and turned into a block of ice.
He refuses you. So what're you going to do about it? Now? Later? Tomorrow? When he's dying?
He promised not to leave me. He's keeping his promise, and it's hurting him to do it. I should let him go. Let them all go.
Let them all go.
Masonry sank to his knees before the ice block, not in tears for once. Not begging. It was going to take some work, and he didn't want to be standing. He went through in his mind's eye all the people that he had been angry with, and they were legion. Frosty disappeared before his eyes; Tommy Sass stood in front of him. He wore the school's varsity coat with its letters on it, looking entirely like he did in his yearbook as Nate had memorized. Masonry looked up into the eyes whose life he had snuffed out, the first one he took his revenge on.
"If anyone should be angry it should be me at you, don't you think?" he snarled.
Nate nodded quietly.
"Do it again."
"I'm done," he said, and Tommy slowly faded out of sight to be replaced by Hammer.
Hammer laughed at him, his arms folded across his chest. "This is gonna take a long longer than what you think, Booger," he said, calling him by the nickname they all had for him. "Because we ain't gonna let you go that easy. . ."
---------------------------
"Doctor, 15a won't get up."
Dr. LaPlaca stared for a moment at the orderly. "Have you given him a stimulant?"
The orderly shook his head. "Jessica doesn't think it's a good idea. She said he's almost in a trance."
Jessica had a Kheldian, so LaPlaca knew what she was talking about. "Should we restrain him?"
"Maybe so? Just in case?"
The doctor nodded. He hoped when 15a woke up that he wouldn't try and kill them all.
"Come in, Nate."
Masonry sat down across from the person that he hadn't seen since his time in prison. Dr. Orbison sat straight and stiff at the other side of the table.
"We have all the time you need, Nate." He uncapped a pen and poised it over paper, eyeing Masonry as he did so. He scribbled something, recapped the pen and sat back. "So how's your life been?"
"It was fine."
"Until you fucked it up again." He rattled off, counting on his fingers, "Threatening your teammates. Going to the Isles. Getting taken into the Repatriation Program at the FBSA. Assault. Murder."
"Murder?!"
"At least a dozen murders have already been pegged on you over in the Isles. You go back over there, you're dead."
"I have no plans to go back."
"So you don't believe me."
He folded his arms across his chest. "Not a bit.""What the hell do I have to do to satisfy you people?"
"Do what you're supposed to do, for one. What're you here for, Nate?""I'm a danger to myself and--"
"No, here. As a hero. What for?"
"Glory."
"You had people who worshiped you, I hear. Not good enough?"
"I had to leave them."
"Were they good enough? Rumor has it you killed them."
"Some."
"And you don't feel one bit of remorse."
"I didn't at the time. I do now."
"Did you feel anything at the time?"
"Anger."
"Who are you angry at?"
Masonry had been pondering that all day and all night. He looked up and snarled, "Everyone."
"Why?"
"You're all a threat."
"Because..?"
"You'll all hurt me."
Orbison looked at him, and gave a short laugh. "You think my life is centered around you? You think I stay up nights plotting ways to hurt you?"
"No, I--" He stopped, "No."
"So who are you angry at?"
"Myself?"
"Oh, don't start the pity parties, I didn't bring along any cake."
"You, right now."
"Good. And why?"
"Because you're insulting me."
"Something small like that statement makes you ready to jump over this table and kill me."
"Among other reasons."
"Reasons that had to do with me doing something with you that you didn't like. Don't like to think, do you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're lazy."
"I'm not getting it --"
Orbison leaned back. "I'll wait."
Masonry stared at him. What does he mean? He remembered Star's words, Stopping easy and hard. Hard to start to stop, but easy once you do it. Why is it hard to start to stop? Because you have to physically - or mentally - switch what you're doing. Like handling the mace, the momentum carries it along, and your weight's behind it as it moves through the air, but what if you know it's heading toward a target you didn't want to hit? How hard is it to stop it? You've pulled muscles by pulling back on the mace and stopping a swing. Same with the anger - it swings, heading toward its target, you need to yank it back. With Ben helping you along, validating your anger and using it, you forgot how. But you can if you really want to.
"Were you born evil?"
Masonry came out of his reverie to stare at him. "What?"
"Were you born evil? Were you set on this world to kill people?"
He blinked and thought back. "No, it wasn't until the abuse at school."
"That's when you thought you were evil?"
"I wanted to hurt them at the time, but I couldn't."
"Were you evil, then?"
"Is wanting revenge evil?"
"My question first, Nate."
Masonry said quietly, "No."
"Did the drugs make you evil?"
"No."
"Your first Kheldian made you evil?"
"No, no, I think it was before that."
"So somewhere between graduating high school and your first Kheldian, you became evil."
"I don't think evil."
"Then what."
"I know what you mean by being lazy."
Orbison gave him a nod. "Then explain it to me."
"If I'm going down a path of anger, it's easier for me to keep on going than it is to stop. It's like pulling back something you already have in motion."
Orbison nodded. "Good. It only took you ten minutes to figure it out. There's hope for you, yet." He smiled. "I can see the anger in your eyes already. What're you going to do about it?"
Masonry sighed. "Nothing."
"Because you can't, can you? You jump over this table and you'll be dead within ten minutes. You and your Kheldian."
"Jack too? They said Jack would be extrac--"
"They won't have time if you attack me now. Ah, so that stops you, the death of your Kheldian. The death of your boyfriend won't?"
"Don't bring him into this."
"He's the one whose name you utter in dreams, who you depend on, and he's refusing you. What're you going to do about it?"
He's refusing you.
Orbison sat back and buffed his nails. "Kill him, I say. He's not doing what you want. He doesn't worship you anymore, he doesn't trust you. That's what you're thinking, isn't it? You want to kill him."
"He's done nothing to me. He's always been there. I l--" He stopped.
"If you loved me like that, Nate, I would have committed suicide a long time ago." He stood up. "I have plenty of time to go through this, Nate, but you don't. Think about this: How do you stop yourself?"
"What do you mean I don't?"
"For your safety you're going to be moved to the Peregrine Island facility. Think about my question, and you won't have to worry about yours."
He disappeared from sight.
Hey, this is my writer's journal. I can screw up if I want to.
For the Republican Movement only a struggle on many fronts will achieve the Republican objective of restoring the "ownership of Ireland to the people of Ireland" (1916 Proclamation). - WHAT IS IRISH REPUBLICANISM? By Ruairí Ó Brádaigh, President Sinn Féin in the Irish Independent, December 9, 1970.
"Allie, Allie, ye takin' th' red'er'blue?"
Alan picked up the blue t-shirt, started yanking it over his head. "So are we ready?"
"Almos'." His roommate picked up the red shirt and pulled it on. He pulled on his jacket to make sure the pistol in the holster didn't show. "You?"
Alan patted the pocket of his coat. "Two pounds - one kilo - of PE-4."
His partner nodded. "That'll ge'air attention."
The two young men stepped out into the dim light of dawn.
What the plan for this story was:
Alan and the red-shirted kid were supposed to plant a bomb in the car of Catholic minister in Belfast. Why, don't know. Who, don't know either. The IRA started decommissioning in 2001. Alan should be, at present, around 30 years old, which means he was born just around the height of "the Troubles".
Just because the IRA decomissioned doesn't mean they stopped. They splintered off into more or less militant groups, but seemed to be more into the training aspect than the actual action. So let's say Alan doesn't actually do bombings, but he knows how, and he's done it in training sessions. He got caught in Derry with some incidiary devices and was deported. Finished college with a Chemical Engineering Degree, he worked for assorted demolition companies all up and down the East Coast.
It was during this time that he got electrocuted. Hit by lightning. Something. From that point he constantly exuded electricity in a radius (Lightning Field or whatever the hell that is). Well, he obviously couldn't work around explosives anymore. He and some friends eventually created the vest that he wears, that pretty much lets out electricity as he needs it. For a strange reason, he likes to be constantly bathed in it, so will usually have it on in some way. (Plus it looks cool.)
His knowledge was still in demand, so he prepared chemical bombs, passive bombs, TNT explosives, any kind that was wanted by any group, particularly the "Fifth Column of the IRA" so to speak. He was arrested after a tip-off, and he's on the search to find out who. Because of his electrical issues, he was allowed to keep the harness. Of course, he was searched more often than other prisoners since he had the extra harness, but that didn't stop him from sneaking things in.
While in the Zig he beefed himself up, with the full intent of going after whoever turned him in. Not only did he become useful as a mule, but also as a bruiser. He didn't always win - then, he didn't always want to. Many were allowed to run and then get beat up later, when they least expected it, and when it hurt MORE.
Why is he with Styrm? He knows a good thing when he sees it. Styrm built that battle suit, which he's impressed with. (He's more impressed with the guns than the suit. Wait until trip mines. He'll drool.) Styrm's got a good and intelligent head on his shoulders, he knows what he's doing, he's got charisma. Styrm might have heard that he's a bruiser and the reason he's in the Zig. Styrm might have figured that he would be a good wall between the enemies and himself. If something explodes, Styrm might think, let Provo take the hit. Or hits.
Is he evil? He's not morally ambiguous, he's morally empty. Tell him to kill someone, he would - because he knows he can, and he'll eventually start liking it.
So there's my take. I hope I can keep close enough to that outline, anyway.
Masonry walked into the pre-op room and started stripping. He was still irritated from seeing Daisuke - and he hadn't seen him since, even though he looked for him. He threw his shirt onto the chair, his belt following with a snap, and falling off it. Boots, socks, pants and underwear followed. He slipped on the johnny just as the curtain opened.
"You're already undressed?" Hannah stared at him, trying not to oogle. Hannah, stop it.
He gave her a slight smile. "Johnny's too small though." It barely covered him.
"That's because it's for a human, there should be one large enough here." She squatted and opened a drawer under the bed. She rummaged though trying not to look at his legs. She stood up, and she was very close to him, close enough to smell him. Looking up into his dark blue eyes, she muttered, "Here...you...go."
The two stared at each other, then Masonry blinked, coughed and looked away, blushing. One hand came up and took the johnny from her hand, even while he didn't look at her. "Thanks."
Hannah swallowed, backed away. "Sure. I'll send... I'll send Steve in for the IV."
Masonry was blushing, as he held the new johnny close to his chest. "Okay, fine, that's fine." She almost ran between the curtains to get out.
Humans, admonished Luminescence. You know what he is.
He's still attractive, Lumi!
He's a killer. Lots of killers are attractive so they can get their quarries. He will kill you with the same passion he looked at you. Don't. Don't, Hannah, don't.
"I'm going to check the equipment," she said to both Steve and Luminescence.
Think. Clinically. She concentrated entirely on the machines before her, watching Steve place the electrodes on the big man's head. Then she nodded to Steven when he sat down. "1000 milliamps. Three seconds."
The EEG went off again. Hannah nodded. "Again."
Steve hit the button again. She saw something jerk out of the corner of her eye - his hand was squeezed tight around the iron bar. His muscles were tightening in his arm, thick sinews bunching up under the skin. "He's trying to get out of it," Hannah said. "You'll need to give him more anesthesia next time."
The muscles relaxed. Steve went to the IV with more sedative. As he touched Masonry's arm, his other hand snapped out of the restraints, reached over his chest and grabbed a hold of Steve's wrist so tightly that Hannah heard the bones crunch. In a flash she was on the same side of the bed as Steven as she gripped Masonry's arm in the same place that he held Steve's. She squeezed, and would press on the nerve that would cause pain to release his hand.
"Don't. Take. It," he growled. Steven whimpered.
Hannah felt the muscles relax under her hand as he slowly let go of Steve's crushed wrist. "Dais'ke," he whispered and his hand went back to his side as he passed out.
Hannah took a hold of Steve's hand and willed her healing energy into it. She felt bones knit, muscles straighten, and Steve sighed. "Thanks, doc," he said.
"Don't mention it." She smiled, though it looked forced. "Sit down over there, I'll finish this." She walked over to the ECT machine, her lips pursed and determined.
--------------
Masonry opened his eyes to stare at a white ceiling. He tried to sit up but was tied down. He looked around, saw he was in a bed, the railings up. He blinked, not sure where he was, but figuring someone would come around to untie him.
He slowly remembered he was in a hospital, that he came in for the shock therapy. Jack was somewhere in his mind. Daisuke was alone. Jack had thrown away the drugs during the time he had spoken to Daisuke. He needed to tell the doctor that.
Someone came over to the side of the bed. He was dressed in a suit and wore dark glasses, similar to Crey agents. "Mr. Greene," he said, and Masonry knew by the tone of his voice that he was in big trouble. "We've been called in to take you to Peregrine Asylum."
"Asylum? They said I was fine."
"Doctor Weiner and said you attacked one of her nurses during your treatment." He stepped away and folded his arms across his chest. "You are a danger to yourself and others, Mr. Greene. You can voluntarily commit yourself or we will be forced to take you tied up like you are." He looked at his watch. "One minute."
He yanked at the restraints. "What's the fucking difference?!"
"The difference is, Mr. Greene, is that if you sign yourself in, you are not violating your parole."
"What about my clothes? And I have other--"
"Keen Frost will be informed." The man smiled coldly. "You're not good at hiding it."
"I should at least see--"
"You are a danger to him as well. Especially to him. Thirty seconds."
Jack, Jack, what do I do?
No answer. He tried to shove his way back, to abandon his body, but something stopped him. He was fully conscious when the agent said, "Fifteen seconds."
He looked back and forth, like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to do. Then, he stopped, his mind's eye focused on one thing: Daisuke's pain-filled eyes. "Okay, I'll sign myself in."
Okay, Nate, I've had it with you.
Grow the fuck up.
You've ruined a man's life, a man who you supposedly "love", who loves you to the ends of the earth and back, and you threw it all away. You've done this before. But this time it hurt me, your director.
We know who you reflect, just like Kill did. We know whose moods you reflect, we know when the player's had a bad day or is on a downswing - because he ruins other characters' lives. And when the player's on an upswing, you get "healed" somehow.
I've given you everything: out of prison. A permanent babysitter (Lodestar) - who's mealy-mouthed for a reason. Time and space to go and fulfil those "wicked desires" as Daisuke calls them. Kit forgave you. Notion forgave you. Artemis forgave you. Star's almost there in forgiving you. A psychiatrist, a neurosurgeon, and shock therapy. The FBSA. DRUGS, for chrissake. Thrown away.
No more, Nate, no more. As your director signed off last night, tears of sadness and frustration in her eyes, she thought of what Daisuke's static face looked like, and hoped that Daisuke's player could put more distance between them than she could.
If you are this dark and evil, Nate, I don't mind playing you out - but not on Virtue or not with the Gang o' Four or with anyone that I know. Because your actions will disgust your fellow players like they already have. Your director can live with with that darkness and evil and wallow in it - who made who, after all - but not forever and not with people whose lives you've already tortured.
So here's the deal - no, actually, no. There is no deal. You grow up. If you don't grow up then I'll get Kill back to be the badge whore and you disappear into retirement never to be seen again. Will it hurt me? Sure it will. But I never, ever want to see Daisuke - or me - that upset again.
Masonry Redux: I need to speak with Lieutenant Matsumoto, please.
Masonry Redux: Lieutenant Matsumoto - oh, thank you.
Keen Stronghold raises an eyebrow.
Masonry Redux: Excuse me.
Keen Stronghold: I'm busy here.
Masonry Redux: I would like to speak with you, it shouldn't take long.
Keen Stronghold narrows his eyes.
Masonry Redux: It regards a personal matter.
Keen Stronghold: I don't think we have anything to--
Masonry Redux: (speaking in Japanese) [It has to do with something that was taken from you.]
Keen Stronghold: [Why should I talk it over with you?]
Masonry Redux: [Because it is something...that needs to be done.]
Keen Stronghold gives a small sigh.
Keen Stronghold: Where.
Masonry Redux: Someplace quiet and without interruption, if you please.
Masonry Redux: A rooftop, perhaps. Can you still fly?
Keen Stronghold: Yes.
Keen Stronghold messes with his comm. (changes his costume)
Keen Stronghold: Pick a building.
Masonry Redux: Nice suit. (finds a building)
Masonry Redux: Acceptable?
Keen Stronghold: I guess.
Masonry Redux: So tell me how Havoc came to be, as you know it.
Keen Stronghold: Who wants to know?
Masonry Redux: Me. Lodestar.
Masonry Redux: My host has a "havoc" that would need to be extracted.
Keen Stronghold: I understand.
Masonry Redux nods.
Keen Stronghold: Although I'm afraid I might not have enough information for you.
Masonry Redux: Perception is part of the inquiry.
Masonry Redux: What you know and remember - and how you felt - will be useful.
Keen Stronghold: ::dispassionately:: Alright.
Masonry Redux: I would offer a seat.
Keen Stronghold: I was on duty, and got caught in an ambush. One member of Arachnos hit me with a strange red energy.
Masonry Redux: Such as the ones usually from their weapons?
Keen Stronghold: I passed out. Next thing I remember is pummeling a hero around, and liking it.
Masonry Redux weaves a little.
Masonry Redux: Go on.
Keen Stronghold: I felt powerful. Enough to take down anyone to satisfy my... innermost wicked desires.
Masonry Redux: Did you have many?
Keen Stronghold: I'd rather skip that part.
Masonry Redux nods.
Keen Stronghold: ::looks around a little::
Masonry Redux: As you wish, though it would be helpful, as to the extent of what could possibly be extracted.
Masonry Redux: My host has enough anger to power the city.
Keen Stronghold: I lost my Captain, my wife, my normal life.
Masonry Redux tilts his head.
Keen Stronghold: I wanted them back. I set my mind to have them back.
Keen Stronghold: The anger was unbearable. I couldn't control it.
Keen Stronghold: I heard my own voice inside my head, asking things I didn't want to do.
Masonry Redux: But you liked it.
Keen Stronghold: That's correct. Yet I refused them enough.
Masonry Redux: So your own will is what changed you, but I am not understanding where Havoc came from.
Keen Stronghold: Whatever struck me, it got out eventually.
Masonry Redux: If Havoc is your darker nature, then what were you?
Masonry Redux: You forced it out.
Masonry Redux: Let me try to understand this.Keen Stronghold: I guess I did.
Keen Stronghold: I felt like it was going to take me over, and I didn't want that.
Masonry Redux: So I am not understanding how Havoc came to be.
Masonry Redux: If he came to be before you did these things, then...your anger must be bottomless.
Keen Stronghold: When that explosion happened, I saw a red image of myself in front of me. It was burning.
Masonry Redux nods.
Masonry Redux: But if you still had anger after...
Keen Stronghold: After he appeared, I could feel no anger. Hate. Nothing.
Keen Stronghold: But... I was afraid.
Masonry Redux: Yes, yes. Go on.
Masonry Redux: Afraid?
Keen Stronghold: ... couldn't handle a gun.
Keen Stronghold: I couldn't do my job. I had no authority.
Masonry Redux nods.
Keen Stronghold: It was when an engineer, friends with my Guardian, suggested the use of force fields.
Keen Stronghold: I could use them. They meant no harm. To anyone.
Masonry Redux: So you became more passive in your abilities.
Keen Stronghold: Correct.
Masonry Redux: Hm.
Keen Stronghold: Still, I felt insecure. Weak.
Keen Stronghold: Coward.
Masonry Redux: How so? You still worked, your abilities were supportive now.
Keen Stronghold: Havoc had taken my wife hostage, and I went after him to take her back. Somehow.
Keen Stronghold: That was when... Masonry helped me on my journey.
Keen Stronghold: The old Mase I knew.
Masonry Redux: Yes.
Masonry Redux: ::forlornly:: Yes.
Masonry Redux: You did get her back.
Keen Stronghold: When I got to Havoc, we fought, talked. Found out he's been misled.
Keen Stronghold: He didn't want to accept it. He kept talking about his boss, his boss--
Masonry Redux: Yes?
Keen Stronghold ponders for a moment.
Masonry Redux 's tail twitches excitedly.
Keen Stronghold: I had no idea who he was.
Masonry Redux: But Havoc would know.
Keen Stronghold: So do I. But memories are... blurry.
Masonry Redux: You share memories, even separated?
Keen Stronghold: I wanted my "anger" back.
Masonry Redux: But why, if it destroys you?
Keen Stronghold: Anger is a human feeling. One shouldn't live without it. It's only natural.
Masonry Redux: Not when it controls a man.
Keen Stronghold: ... I wanted to be like I was before the whole thing.
Masonry Redux: And the man can no longer control himself.
Masonry Redux: So.. you would not voluntarily go through that again.
Keen Stronghold: Not recommend it.
Masonry Redux sighs disgustedly.
Keen Stronghold: Even so, I don't know who was the responsible for that.
Masonry Redux: Havoc may know.
Keen Stronghold: That's unlikely. He only remembers his boss' voice.
Masonry Redux: Hm.
Keen Stronghold: ... Oranbega... when he was there... with Eri.
Keen Stronghold: He couldn't see him.
Keen Stronghold: It was only a voice.
Keen Stronghold: He was just... a flunky.
Masonry Redux: Times like these I wish I could do magic...
[Help] Spiney Peace: recharge enhancements slotted into powers
Masonry Redux: Oh, I see.
Masonry Redux: That explains much of his demeanor.
Keen Stronghold: When Havoc gave me back my... "anger," our memories had sort of a connection, but we couldn't share it when we did it for the first time.
Masonry Redux: I understand.
Keen Stronghold: We decided to try it again... recently. I have some of his memories now, but they're inconsistent.
Masonry Redux: Then you may not be certain.
Keen Stronghold: Perhaps.
Masonry Redux 's tail twitches again.
Keen Stronghold: Havoc was able to live, using the magic essence he's made of.
Keen Stronghold: But it's only enough to keep him standing, so he can't really do much of magic.
Masonry Redux: This, what is extracted, should not be allowed to "live".
Keen Stronghold: His anger was also toned down, but it's still there.
Masonry Redux: I have seen it.
Keen Stronghold: ... of all things, he's just myself. I don't have any intention of... eliminating him.
Masonry Redux: That would be you, yes.
Masonry Redux: The issue is of not only would it extract my host's anger...but mine as well.
Keen Stronghold: ... yours?
Masonry Redux chuckles, sounding like low tones.
Keen Stronghold: Oh. I see.
Masonry Redux: Do you not think I can be angry as well?
Masonry Redux: My host's anger is slowly affecting me also.
Masonry Redux: If it is extracted...
Masonry Redux: Then we will be at peace.
Masonry Redux: ::quietly:: And dead.
Keen Stronghold frowns inside the mask.
Keen Stronghold: Lodestar. I'm going to be honest here.
Keen Stronghold: When I was under this "thing's" possession... I felt like it was swallowing me.
Keen Stronghold: I didn't feel it was going to be released. It happened because I struggled.
Keen Stronghold: I fought it out. I didn't want it. I had people to care about. I was hurting them.
Keen Stronghold: I can't *even* imagine Mase being taken by that.
Keen Stronghold: ::quietly:: ... he doesn't need any kind of evil magic to hurt people.
Masonry Redux: Which is why it needs to be removed.
Keen Stronghold: It would just make things much worse. Not just to him.
Keen Stronghold: Mase has succumbed to many... pitiful things.
Keen Stronghold: Like vengeance.
Masonry Redux: Yes.
Keen Stronghold: If I didn't struggle, Havoc wouldn't have been created.
Keen Stronghold: ... I'd become him.
Masonry Redux: He won't struggle, Hisagi, that is the problem.
Keen Stronghold: This is what you want?
Masonry Redux: I want him to be happy.
Masonry Redux: But not at the expense of others' lives.
Keen Stronghold: ::annoyed:: ... you're sounding like Daisuke.
Masonry Redux: He is my bondmate. I love him too, after a fashion.
Masonry Redux: He takes the lives of innocents and I should draw the line, but I don't.
Keen Stronghold: ... what kind of friend are you?
Masonry Redux: What do you mean?
Keen Stronghold: You "love" him enough to go havoc - and I'm not talking about magic here.
Keen Stronghold: You protect him, but don't stop him.
Keen Stronghold: If I was on his case before he got into the FBSA... he'd be rotting in jail.
Masonry Redux: No, I . . . because at that moment...
Masonry Redux: Truthfully, as well he should.
Keen Stronghold: Sorry, Lodestar. This is just a bad idea.
Keen Stronghold: I'm not supporting it.
Masonry Redux: What do I do, Hisagi?!
Keen Stronghold: In fact, I'll make sure it doesn't happen.
Masonry Redux: How so.
Keen Stronghold: ::sternly:: Going against you, if I need.
Masonry Redux sighs.
Masonry Redux: That, I do not wish...
Masonry Redux: Then we must take the other route.
Keen Stronghold: Whatever it is... I probably won't b--
Masonry Redux: I had hoped for a permanent solution.
Keen Stronghold winces.
Masonry Redux: Hisagi?
Keen Stronghold looks around suspiciously.
Keen Stronghold: ::mutters:: ... there's someone here.
Masonry Redux: I see no one here.
Keen Stronghold: ... I need to go...
Keen Stronghold looks thoughtful and confused.
Masonry Redux: Hisagi...
Masonry Redux: If you need help.
Keen Stronghold winces harder.
Keen Stronghold: ... I do not!
Masonry Redux: ::sternly:: Which you do. :
Keen Stronghold: ::muttering:: Where's it coming from?
(begins to fly off, flies very high and crashes)
Masonry Redux: Hisagi!
Masonry Redux bends to the body.
Keen Stronghold: ... ungh-- Leave me alone...
Masonry Redux: Hisagi, yes you do.
Masonry Redux cradles him.
Masonry Redux: What is wrong?
Masonry Redux: Where does it hurt?
Masonry Redux: ::slowly picks him up to stand::
Keen Stronghold: ::can't get up on his own::
Masonry Redux: ::holds him up against him::
Masonry Redux: ::the two stand together, Mase holding Hisagi up::
Keen Stronghold: ::grabs his own chest fiercely, tries to say something but fails, eyes glow red as he winces again::
Keen Stronghold: ::a vulture in robes is nearby::
Masonry Redux: ::sends healing energy to Hisagi as he looks around::
Keen Stronghold: ::the healing makes it actually worse::
Keen Stronghold: ........ I feel it-- ::grunts::
Keen Stronghold: ..... no, not again--
Masonry Redux: I have you.
Keen Stronghold: .... that doesn't... HELP!
Keen Stronghold: ::yanks away::
Keen Stronghold: ......... you're... full of hate...!
Masonry Redux: ::lets out a breath::
Masonry Redux: No!
Masonry Redux: No he's not.
Keen Stronghold: :;the vulture goes away, he recovers slowly::
Masonry Redux: ::watches something retreat from the shadows::
Masonry Redux: Hisagi...
Masonry Redux: ::touches his shoulder::
Keen Stronghold: ... I felt it... again.
Masonry Redux: ...something controls you, still.
Keen Stronghold: I don't know.
Masonry Redux: ::looks down and away::
Masonry Redux: That part of you has never completely left.
Masonry Redux: Otherwise, you would accept Nate and Daisuke.
Keen Stronghold: That "part" has always been there, Lodestar.
Keen Stronghold: It's my own feeling to feel... hate towards Masonry.
Masonry Redux lets out a small gasp.
Masonry Redux:
Masonry Redux: I am sorry he has done this to you.
Masonry Redux: But--
Masonry Redux: You have the feelings that you say are human.
Masonry Redux: If your will was able to control it, it can do it again.
Keen Stronghold: Humans can only forgive so much, Lodestar.
Masonry Redux: He does not expect you to forgive him.
Masonry Redux: He hopes you would forgive your brother.
Keen Stronghold: I don't intend to.
Keen Stronghold: Daisuke knows better what he does.
Masonry Redux: He is young and trusts too much.
Keen Stronghold: He's a damn adult.
Keen Stronghold: He's blind - but because he doesn't *want* to see it.
Masonry Redux: Because of the same reason I am here, Hisagi.
Masonry Redux: We believe there is something good in there.
Keen Stronghold: I believed, too.
Masonry Redux: He is trying, and no one sees it.
Masonry Redux: His killing of innocents changed your mind.
Keen Stronghold: Pointless killing of innocents.
Masonry Redux: And his want to do so again.
Masonry Redux: He must be stopped...I had hoped by taking the anger it would stop him.
Masonry Redux sighs.
Masonry Redux: I suppose I must try my luck with shock therapy.
Keen Stronghold: He won't be able to live without anger.
Keen Stronghold: He'll feel like... dying.
Keen Stronghold: ... like I did.
Masonry Redux: Yet you live.
Keen Stronghold: I got *it* back.
Keen Stronghold: I *have* my evil instincts back.
Masonry Redux would stomp his foot in frustration if he had one.
Keen Stronghold: I can hold a gun again.
Masonry Redux: So you believe taking the anger would not only stop him but kill him?
Keen Stronghold: He'd sink deep into a hole of depression.
Keen Stronghold: If he doesn't have willpower, he'd never get out of it.
Keen Stronghold: Seeing the facts, I'd say... he has none.
Masonry Redux: He has no willpower now!
Masonry Redux: What else can I do?
Keen Stronghold: Are you looking for a salvation?
Keen Stronghold: ::quietly:: I wonder if there's one.
Masonry Redux: We are trying...
Keen Stronghold: ... for HOW long?
Masonry Redux: *He* is trying... drugs.
Keen Stronghold: How many lives it's going to cost?
Keen Stronghold: How many friends hurt?
Masonry Redux: Do you suggest I kill him like a rabid dog?
Keen Stronghold: Drugs?! That was what got him into all of this to begin with.
Masonry Redux: And shock therapy.
Keen Stronghold: ... does he even believe in God?
Masonry Redux: No.
Keen Stronghold: ::mutters:: Not that it means anything.
Masonry Redux: Your will, the love for your wife is what brought you out of it.
Keen Stronghold: I'm not fond of shock therapy. It looks like a last resort.
Masonry Redux: Do you think I enjoy it?
Masonry Redux: I try to hide but I can't fully...
Masonry Redux: Some Kheldians have died under this.
Keen Stronghold: What's your task as a Peacebringer, regarding your host?
Masonry Redux: Mostly Nictus, but still...
Masonry Redux: I am to protect him, save his life, and to guide him.
Masonry Redux: I cannot and will not "drive" him forever.
Keen Stronghold: ... sorry, I am blaming you again.
Keen Stronghold: But one can deny guiding, and Masonry does it rather well.
Masonry Redux: ::gently:: If it will make you feel better.
Masonry Redux: Yes, he can.
Masonry Redux: By force if necessary.
Keen Stronghold: Force hasn't been working on him.
Keen Stronghold: You can tell.
Masonry Redux: ((Oh, sorry, misunderstood that other sentence))
Masonry Redux: Then what do you suggest?
Masonry Redux: Please be honest, Hisagi. ::quietly:: I think I know the answer.
Keen Stronghold: Removal from society. At the very least.
Keen Stronghold: But that's me.
Masonry Redux: You believe he is irredeemable.
[Broadcast]Lord Valentine:
Keen Stronghold: ::dispassionately:: Correct.
Masonry Redux: And the removal of the anger could kill him.
Keen Stronghold: I don't think he'd get to that stage.
Keen Stronghold: I don't see it being "extracted." He'd just... take it for himself.
Keen Stronghold: And use it for his own willing.
Masonry Redux weaves back and forth, agitated.
Keen Stronghold: And *that* I won't let happen.
Keen Stronghold: He'd not... hesitate to kill anyone on his way.
Masonry Redux: I know.
Masonry Redux: I know too well.
Keen Stronghold: Do you think *we* can take that risk?
Keen Stronghold: Who would he kill?
Masonry Redux: You don't want to know.
Keen Stronghold clenches his teeth.
Masonry Redux: Anyone.
Masonry Redux: You, me if he could.
Keen Stronghold: I can't let this happen. I was hoping to count on you, too. But now I'm not really sure.
Masonry Redux: I guide, Hisagi.
Masonry Redux: I make suggestions.
Masonry Redux: And heal the body when it is hurt, and heal others if they are hurt.
Masonry Redux: I cannot tear him out. We've tried that.
Masonry Redux: The fury makes him strong.
Keen Stronghold: And enhancing it is *not* an option.
Masonry Redux: No.
Masonry Redux: He finds his own excuses.
Keen Stronghold: I know.
Masonry Redux: Then, Hisagi, I am sorry I have taken so much of your time.
Keen Stronghold: No problem, I guess.
Masonry Redux: But something controls you, and I wish to see it.
Keen Stronghold: I'm afraid you won't.
Masonry Redux: I wish to help you.
Keen Stronghold: It doesn't concern you.
Masonry Redux: You are a stubborn man.
Keen Stronghold: ::grins:: No kidding.
Keen Stronghold: Take care.
Masonry Redux: Sayonara.
Keen Stronghold: ((Jack will meet someone else. Or rather, feel his presence.))