Thursday, January 31, 2008
The door opened with a tiny tinkling of bells. “Be right with you,” said a voice from the far end of the store.
Idaho stood at the counter as a small, grey-haired, grey-bearded man peered his head from around the corner of a bookcase in the rear of the store. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Are you the owner?”
“Yes—“
“I want to buy this store from you.”
“I just bought it.”
“I know. The person who sold it did it by mistake. I want to buy it back from you.”
The man stepped out from the back of the store. “It’s not for sale.” He was small and older, like Penelope Yin's grandfather.
“I’ll give you twice what you paid for it.”
He brushed his hands against his pants. “It’s not for sale.”
“Three times. She made a big mistake. This was her sanctuary.”
The man smirked at him. “That’s not my fault, buddy.”
Idaho felt fire just below the surface of his skin. Anger, fury, frustration – being blocked, pushed, forced – all I want to do is help people, make them happy…and fix things. I can’t fix everything. He took out a card and calmly left it on the counter. “If you change your mind.”
He only shrugged at him, and Idaho walked out, dejected. He summoned an Ouroboros portal and stepped lightly through. He walked a few feet away from the portal and sat on the ledge, staring out at nothing for a long time.
“Mender Idaho,” called a voice behind him.
He turned around, confused. A man in a brown kilt, wearing two strange monocles and a hood came over to him. “How are you? Fine, I guess. You’re not in uniform?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been with us for thirty years and you haven’t aged a day.” Idaho stared at him. The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve gotten you confused with another Idaho-in-time. I see you as you are now. You’re just starting, aren’t you?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You haven’t even seen the Pilgrim yet. You haven’t even started working with Mender Dundee. You both have such a long partnership, you’re friends for years! There I go again.”
“Wait, wait – Mender?”
“Sure, that’s your title – well, it will be. You’re one of the best at it, too. You’re able to walk into any time period, and see exactly the few things that are just slightly off kilter and get it just right. Aaaand…” he tilted his head slightly sideways, “it’s what you’re made to do. C’mon, Idaho, let’s get started!”
He started walking toward the Pilgrim, following the Mender quietly. “How do you know all this?”
“You told me, Duncan Idaho, when I initiated you.” He held out his hand. “I’m Mender Lazarus.”
I can fix everything...
Idaho stood at the counter as a small, grey-haired, grey-bearded man peered his head from around the corner of a bookcase in the rear of the store. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Are you the owner?”
“Yes—“
“I want to buy this store from you.”
“I just bought it.”
“I know. The person who sold it did it by mistake. I want to buy it back from you.”
The man stepped out from the back of the store. “It’s not for sale.” He was small and older, like Penelope Yin's grandfather.
“I’ll give you twice what you paid for it.”
He brushed his hands against his pants. “It’s not for sale.”
“Three times. She made a big mistake. This was her sanctuary.”
The man smirked at him. “That’s not my fault, buddy.”
Idaho felt fire just below the surface of his skin. Anger, fury, frustration – being blocked, pushed, forced – all I want to do is help people, make them happy…and fix things. I can’t fix everything. He took out a card and calmly left it on the counter. “If you change your mind.”
He only shrugged at him, and Idaho walked out, dejected. He summoned an Ouroboros portal and stepped lightly through. He walked a few feet away from the portal and sat on the ledge, staring out at nothing for a long time.
“Mender Idaho,” called a voice behind him.
He turned around, confused. A man in a brown kilt, wearing two strange monocles and a hood came over to him. “How are you? Fine, I guess. You’re not in uniform?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been with us for thirty years and you haven’t aged a day.” Idaho stared at him. The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve gotten you confused with another Idaho-in-time. I see you as you are now. You’re just starting, aren’t you?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You haven’t even seen the Pilgrim yet. You haven’t even started working with Mender Dundee. You both have such a long partnership, you’re friends for years! There I go again.”
“Wait, wait – Mender?”
“Sure, that’s your title – well, it will be. You’re one of the best at it, too. You’re able to walk into any time period, and see exactly the few things that are just slightly off kilter and get it just right. Aaaand…” he tilted his head slightly sideways, “it’s what you’re made to do. C’mon, Idaho, let’s get started!”
He started walking toward the Pilgrim, following the Mender quietly. “How do you know all this?”
“You told me, Duncan Idaho, when I initiated you.” He held out his hand. “I’m Mender Lazarus.”
I can fix everything...
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The man known as Masonry gently folded the report closed. The wind from the bay flittered the lace curtains gently as he looked out at his small fiefdom. In the large manse next door, his benefactor, a minor Hungarian baroness, would call upon him to organize some of his “artist lessons” or other examples of his work. In the meantime, he had the time and leisure for his own pursuits, so long as they did not contradict her demands, or compromise any of her – or her husband’s – concerns.
This report had been expertly prepared, even if it was months old, it was still highly important. The first, most important thing, is that this Masonry made a mistake, but, truthfully, it was honest. Consider these strange facts: Finally, the man he wanted to exact revenge upon, Nate Greene, finally admitted to having a girlfriend. True, the man changed his name to a state (how original), he picked up an axe instead of a mace (again, how original). Now Masonry had a way to get Nate – kidnap the girl, abuse her, make her into his puppet and change her, slip a few secret traps into her, and let her go.
Imagine his surprise at reading this report that another man named Masonry was found with this same girl in the winter chalet, attempting to do the same thing. Come to find out, the girl was not Nate’s girlfriend, but the girlfriend of a clone of Nate – a clone created by Darcy, to alleviate Darcy’s “loneliness.”
“Is this confusing or what, Dina?”
“Answer my question, please.”
"Yes, sir, it is confusing."Masonry nodded. "Two females. Excellent. I prefer working on females, their skin is more pliable. I was afraid I would have to deal with males, with Nate's preference for his own gender. Dina, I want information on Nate’s canvas. She’s in the hospital records. And I also want the other canvas returned to me. I’d like to improve my work on her.”
Dina scribbled some notes. “Once I finish with her, get that clone. It might not be perfect, but I can practice on that until I get the proper canvas.” Masonry waved his hand in dismissal. Dina slowly got up from her chair, then put one huge, swollen lump that was a foot on the floor in front of her, and used it to rock herself forward. The foot was perfect, but the one it was attached to wasn't. He'd have to deal with that, but not today.
First, he'd plan on what to do with the canvas once it would be delivered.Saturday, January 5, 2008
This entry deals with homosexual themes, and may be offensive or graphic to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.
Grimaulkin watched the huge man on the other side of the Chalet. Man, he looks sick, he thought. He could barely stand up straight. He had collapsed in one of the couches by the fire, and Grim watched as he closed his eyes and breathed deep.
Grim set down his mug of beer and headed over, looking a little closer. The man had his eyes closed, looked like he was passed out. Grim stopped short, startled. First, he could smell death on him. Second, he could swear he looked like Idy.
He advanced slowly, peeking slowly around the corner. He did look like Idy, except for a few small details in his face. He sat down across from him, put his boots up on the table between them, and studied him. Finally, the man moved his head and slowly opened his eyes. "How long have you been staring at me?"
"Only a couple of minutes," Grim said with a smile.
"Huh." He sat up slowly. "What can I do for you? I'm not working."
"Neither am I. Buy you a drink?"
He shrugged. Grim took that as an affirmative answer and went to the bar. He returned with a scotch and a beer, and offered both. The man took the beer. Then Grim sat next to him. The man sat up a little straighter. Grim smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to bite."
He nodded. Grim slowly sat closer until their legs were touching. The man didn't move. Then the man moved closer. He put his arm around Grim's shoulders, and Grim leaned back into him. Both men sighed comfortably.
Since the booth was sort of in the corner, only people intentionally looking could see the two men there. Finally, the man raised his arm from Grim's shoulders and said, "Let's go somewhere more comfortable."
"I thought you'd never ask."
The two of them left the chalet and went to the red side part of the Pocket D, which was totally empty. A couch, tucked in the corner, was perfect for their needs. Grim first wanted to make sure: "What's your name, anyway?"
"Masonry," he replied with a smile, taking Grim by the goatee and lifting his head. "I've always loved this about my man," he said, stroking the goatee before leaning his own face forward.
---------------------------------
Idaho turned around when he saw the base's bathroom door open. He saw Grim, holding his clothes close to his body, backing out of the bathroom.
"Grim?"
He jumped, dropping a few items onto the floor. Idaho could never remember seeing the man jump at sudden noises. He bent to help with the clothes, but Grim protested. Idaho saw blood on them, then looked up at Grim's face. His eye was bruised. "Grim? What happened?"
Grim smiled slightly. "I got laid."
"That's not getting laid, that's getting beat up."
"No, no it isn't. He got a little rough, that's all. I was the bottom, it was all right."
Idaho put his hands on his hips. "Who did this to you?"
"You need to promise me, Idy, promise me on your life and soul, that you won't go after him."
"I know him?"
He nodded.
"Okay, I promise."
"You have to repeat it. It's an oath."
Idaho sighed. "I promise on my life and soul that I won't go after him."
Grim looked Idaho in the eye. "Masonry."
Idaho stiffened, Grim stared and watched Idaho struggle with the oath. Idaho whispered, "He raped you."
"No, he didn't." Idaho started walking down the hall to his room, Grim following him, yelling, "I started it. It was consensual, Idy, we both wanted it! He got a little rough--" The door slammed in his face. "Idy, Idy!" Grim banged on the door.
"Be right out," Idaho said calmly, almost icily. Grim backed up and hit the wall. In a few minutes, Idaho was in his hero uniform, axe in hand.
"Don't go after him, you swore an oath!"
"I'm not going after him," Idaho replied. "I'm going to kill some Freakshow." And put that bastard's face on every single one of them.
Details of Grim's assault are available via RP.
Grimaulkin watched the huge man on the other side of the Chalet. Man, he looks sick, he thought. He could barely stand up straight. He had collapsed in one of the couches by the fire, and Grim watched as he closed his eyes and breathed deep.
Grim set down his mug of beer and headed over, looking a little closer. The man had his eyes closed, looked like he was passed out. Grim stopped short, startled. First, he could smell death on him. Second, he could swear he looked like Idy.
He advanced slowly, peeking slowly around the corner. He did look like Idy, except for a few small details in his face. He sat down across from him, put his boots up on the table between them, and studied him. Finally, the man moved his head and slowly opened his eyes. "How long have you been staring at me?"
"Only a couple of minutes," Grim said with a smile.
"Huh." He sat up slowly. "What can I do for you? I'm not working."
"Neither am I. Buy you a drink?"
He shrugged. Grim took that as an affirmative answer and went to the bar. He returned with a scotch and a beer, and offered both. The man took the beer. Then Grim sat next to him. The man sat up a little straighter. Grim smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to bite."
He nodded. Grim slowly sat closer until their legs were touching. The man didn't move. Then the man moved closer. He put his arm around Grim's shoulders, and Grim leaned back into him. Both men sighed comfortably.
Since the booth was sort of in the corner, only people intentionally looking could see the two men there. Finally, the man raised his arm from Grim's shoulders and said, "Let's go somewhere more comfortable."
"I thought you'd never ask."
The two of them left the chalet and went to the red side part of the Pocket D, which was totally empty. A couch, tucked in the corner, was perfect for their needs. Grim first wanted to make sure: "What's your name, anyway?"
"Masonry," he replied with a smile, taking Grim by the goatee and lifting his head. "I've always loved this about my man," he said, stroking the goatee before leaning his own face forward.
---------------------------------
Idaho turned around when he saw the base's bathroom door open. He saw Grim, holding his clothes close to his body, backing out of the bathroom.
"Grim?"
He jumped, dropping a few items onto the floor. Idaho could never remember seeing the man jump at sudden noises. He bent to help with the clothes, but Grim protested. Idaho saw blood on them, then looked up at Grim's face. His eye was bruised. "Grim? What happened?"
Grim smiled slightly. "I got laid."
"That's not getting laid, that's getting beat up."
"No, no it isn't. He got a little rough, that's all. I was the bottom, it was all right."
Idaho put his hands on his hips. "Who did this to you?"
"You need to promise me, Idy, promise me on your life and soul, that you won't go after him."
"I know him?"
He nodded.
"Okay, I promise."
"You have to repeat it. It's an oath."
Idaho sighed. "I promise on my life and soul that I won't go after him."
Grim looked Idaho in the eye. "Masonry."
Idaho stiffened, Grim stared and watched Idaho struggle with the oath. Idaho whispered, "He raped you."
"No, he didn't." Idaho started walking down the hall to his room, Grim following him, yelling, "I started it. It was consensual, Idy, we both wanted it! He got a little rough--" The door slammed in his face. "Idy, Idy!" Grim banged on the door.
"Be right out," Idaho said calmly, almost icily. Grim backed up and hit the wall. In a few minutes, Idaho was in his hero uniform, axe in hand.
"Don't go after him, you swore an oath!"
"I'm not going after him," Idaho replied. "I'm going to kill some Freakshow." And put that bastard's face on every single one of them.
Details of Grim's assault are available via RP.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Rosie Santos' grandmother would have kittens if she ever knew what she was going to do. Even liposuction would be preferable to this. Good Catholic girls wouldn't resort to magic. Rosie knocked on the door to the New Age store. The peephole opened quickly, then slammed shut. A very large woman pulled open the door about six inches wide. "Can I help you?"
Sheepishly, Rosie held up the black business card. On it, the name said "Seagn", not "Shawn" as she had thought. The woman nodded and stepped aside. "Seagn!"
"Hello?" The black haired woman came down the small hallway. "Oh, Rosie. How's it going?"
The floor creaked under Rosie's weight. "Do you have a cellar?"
"Uh, yeah, sure." She glanced around the corner. "Right this way." Seagn brought her around the stairs that were set in the middle of the building, opened the door to the front of the store, then brought her to the cellar. It smelled of must, books, and incense. Seagn pulled out a chair, but Rosie refused it, so Seagn sat.
Rosie paced a little. "I was thinking about what you said. What do I have to do? Do I have to hurt him? Do I have to know him?"
Seagn smiled at her. "Listen, Rosie. The spell will wear off in time. So if you find a guy and you really like him, and he likes you with that glamour, someday he's going to wake up next to you as you are now."
"What if he likes me the way I am?"
She shrugged. "Good luck, then."
Rosie rubbed her nose. "I don't know."
Seagn stood up. "Didn't he hurt you? Didn't he tell you how much he loved you? Didn't he give you something precious and tell you all kinds of nice things, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you? Didn't he promise so much to you? Didn't you believe him?"
Rosie tried to blink back tears. Seagn walked up to her and caught a tear on her fingertip. "See this? He did this to you! Are you going to let him walk all over you like that?" She flicked her finger, the tear splashing against the concrete of the cellar. "Are you going to let ANY man do that again to you? To anyone? You have the obligation to never let something like this happen to anyone again!" Seagn took Rosie by the chin and glared at her. "Even if it's just one man. One at a time."
Blinking, Rosie stepped back. Seagn looked away and stepped back also. "I'm sorry. Look, I'm... you better still think about it. It's a big step." She offered a small smile. "How about you come upstairs and meet my sisters."
"I don't know."
"The floor will support you. You saw Beira, she's a big girl."
"I weigh 800 pounds."
"I assure you, it'll be fine." She motioned up the stairs. As Rosie went first, Seagn made a motion with her hand, and a rune appeared in the air at Rosie's ankles, wrapping around them. She wouldn't weigh as much in the rooms above, at least while she was here.
Sheepishly, Rosie held up the black business card. On it, the name said "Seagn", not "Shawn" as she had thought. The woman nodded and stepped aside. "Seagn!"
"Hello?" The black haired woman came down the small hallway. "Oh, Rosie. How's it going?"
The floor creaked under Rosie's weight. "Do you have a cellar?"
"Uh, yeah, sure." She glanced around the corner. "Right this way." Seagn brought her around the stairs that were set in the middle of the building, opened the door to the front of the store, then brought her to the cellar. It smelled of must, books, and incense. Seagn pulled out a chair, but Rosie refused it, so Seagn sat.
Rosie paced a little. "I was thinking about what you said. What do I have to do? Do I have to hurt him? Do I have to know him?"
Seagn smiled at her. "Listen, Rosie. The spell will wear off in time. So if you find a guy and you really like him, and he likes you with that glamour, someday he's going to wake up next to you as you are now."
"What if he likes me the way I am?"
She shrugged. "Good luck, then."
Rosie rubbed her nose. "I don't know."
Seagn stood up. "Didn't he hurt you? Didn't he tell you how much he loved you? Didn't he give you something precious and tell you all kinds of nice things, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you? Didn't he promise so much to you? Didn't you believe him?"
Rosie tried to blink back tears. Seagn walked up to her and caught a tear on her fingertip. "See this? He did this to you! Are you going to let him walk all over you like that?" She flicked her finger, the tear splashing against the concrete of the cellar. "Are you going to let ANY man do that again to you? To anyone? You have the obligation to never let something like this happen to anyone again!" Seagn took Rosie by the chin and glared at her. "Even if it's just one man. One at a time."
Blinking, Rosie stepped back. Seagn looked away and stepped back also. "I'm sorry. Look, I'm... you better still think about it. It's a big step." She offered a small smile. "How about you come upstairs and meet my sisters."
"I don't know."
"The floor will support you. You saw Beira, she's a big girl."
"I weigh 800 pounds."
"I assure you, it'll be fine." She motioned up the stairs. As Rosie went first, Seagn made a motion with her hand, and a rune appeared in the air at Rosie's ankles, wrapping around them. She wouldn't weigh as much in the rooms above, at least while she was here.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Silent Blue couldn't believe it. Out of the whole of Paragon City, a security level 50 picked her to be a sidekick. He said he had watched her for about an hour over in Kings Row and liked what he saw, and after joining her for a mission, asked her to come with her to help him. His name was Masonry - he was made of stone, had a deep, but nice voice. The only thing that bothered her was his eyes: they were totally black.
They went into a nondescript warehouse, where she came face to face with a woman wearing a skimpy, but colorful outfit. Then the woman threw what looked like a metal ring at her - it slashed into and through her.
Masonry took out the scantily clad woman and then ran over to Blue. He smiled, but it wasn't the same gentle smile he had given her all day; it was angrily joyful. "I think she's ready for you now, Twist," he said, and plunged his hands into her gaping wound. He let out a gasp synchronized with her own, in pain or pleasure, she wasn't sure.
Blue felt something invade her consciousness. She saw a skeletal face looming before her and screamed. It resolved itself into her own face. Don't be afraid, dear, it said. I am Death. Surrender or it will be painful for you.
Skeletal hands plucked at her very being, shredding it away. She forgot her parents. She forgot her friends. She forgot her super hero name. She forgot her own name.
Masonry opened his eyes and removed bloody hands from the girl's body. "Twist?"
The body knitted itself quickly. The girl opened her eyes, now a sapphire blue. "Mase," she said, smiling.
Masonry gathered the girl in his arms and kissed her. Releasing her, Twist shook her head. "Two hours, no more."
Masonry sighed. "Oh, Twist..." He put his head on her shoulder. "There has to be one out there."
"There is, lover, there is." She reached up and caressed his cheek. "Enjoy this one for now."
----------------------
The phone on the desk rang shrilly. The man in black held his head against it; any sudden noise, no matter how low, usually bothered him. This was strange, considering he could create loud and sudden noises that could scramble up the insides of most people's internal organs.
He plucked the phone off its cradle before it had a chance to disturb him furhter. "Alderman, FBSA."
"Another heroine buried in a metal storage crate, sir. Kings Row again."
"Oh, Jesus. Who does this one belong to?"
"Northstar Angels, sir."
Third one of those this month, he thought sourly. Someone's out to get them. He needed to talk to Myra and fast, before she and her girls thought of vengeance. "Be right down," he sighed.
They went into a nondescript warehouse, where she came face to face with a woman wearing a skimpy, but colorful outfit. Then the woman threw what looked like a metal ring at her - it slashed into and through her.
Masonry took out the scantily clad woman and then ran over to Blue. He smiled, but it wasn't the same gentle smile he had given her all day; it was angrily joyful. "I think she's ready for you now, Twist," he said, and plunged his hands into her gaping wound. He let out a gasp synchronized with her own, in pain or pleasure, she wasn't sure.
Blue felt something invade her consciousness. She saw a skeletal face looming before her and screamed. It resolved itself into her own face. Don't be afraid, dear, it said. I am Death. Surrender or it will be painful for you.
Skeletal hands plucked at her very being, shredding it away. She forgot her parents. She forgot her friends. She forgot her super hero name. She forgot her own name.
Masonry opened his eyes and removed bloody hands from the girl's body. "Twist?"
The body knitted itself quickly. The girl opened her eyes, now a sapphire blue. "Mase," she said, smiling.
Masonry gathered the girl in his arms and kissed her. Releasing her, Twist shook her head. "Two hours, no more."
Masonry sighed. "Oh, Twist..." He put his head on her shoulder. "There has to be one out there."
"There is, lover, there is." She reached up and caressed his cheek. "Enjoy this one for now."
----------------------
The phone on the desk rang shrilly. The man in black held his head against it; any sudden noise, no matter how low, usually bothered him. This was strange, considering he could create loud and sudden noises that could scramble up the insides of most people's internal organs.
He plucked the phone off its cradle before it had a chance to disturb him furhter. "Alderman, FBSA."
"Another heroine buried in a metal storage crate, sir. Kings Row again."
"Oh, Jesus. Who does this one belong to?"
"Northstar Angels, sir."
Third one of those this month, he thought sourly. Someone's out to get them. He needed to talk to Myra and fast, before she and her girls thought of vengeance. "Be right down," he sighed.