Saturday, January 30, 2010
The wind of heaven is that which blows between a horse's ears. ~Arabian Proverb
Grim lit down just beyond the gates of the Journey's End Horse Farm. He had called them earlier to ask if they had any horses for sale, and they said they had a few. With a name like Journey's End, he figured that this was where old horses went.
He walked up to the office. The woman at the desk looked up at him, and her mouth dropped in shock. "I called earlier about some horses for sale," he said calmly, knowing his appearance was probably what made her look shocked. He smiled, and tried to be as normal as possible.
"Uh, hm, right..." She picked up a walkie-talkie. "Danny, someone here to see you."
"Be right there," came the voice back, and Grim stepped back from the counter to wait by the door.
Soon, a handsome man came into the room, long brown hair pulled back in a pony-tail, dressed in a simple sweater and jeans. Grim smiled and held out his hand. "Michael LaBonte," he said.
Danny shook Grim's hand. "Danny Mason." He studied him for a minute. "Want me to take you around?"
"Sure," Grim said, and Danny grabbed a small tablet laptop and went outside with him.
"If you don't mind my asking, what were you planning on doing with a horse?"
"Does it matter?"
Danny stopped, and gave Grim a look. "To us it does. You look like one of those demon worshippers."
"I was. I'm not anymore."
"Then what do you want a horse for?"
He said quietly, "I need it for a ritual."
"You're going to kill it."
"Humanely. Honestly, I won't cause it any pain, and it's not going to be used to summon evil spirits or anything like that. I swear on the River Styx."
Danny looked at him. "Do you mind if they're sick or old?"
"That's what I was expecting to find here. The name of the place is Journey's End."
Danny gave him a small smile. "It's from a Western movie. It doesn't mean here is where horses come to die."
"Oh." He looked down. "Then that's my mistake."
"I really don't feel comfortable about this."
"Then don't do it."
"Nobody else will sell to you for that, you know."
"I figured I'd be up front and honest."
"There's such a thing as too much honesty."
"Why would someone want to buy a sick or dying horse?"
"Okay, I see your point. But you shouldn't say you're going to kill it."
"Humanely."
"It's still killing it," Danny said, turning around to look at him.
Grim only stared. Danny finally sighed. "I think I have one for you."
Grim followed Danny into the stables, and was assaulted by the natural smell of horses and manure. Grim knew that smell would be with him for hours. Danny stopped at the first stall and pulled out his tablet.
The horse in the stall didn't even move at their approach. He was brown with a long black tail and mane - at least it looked like a he. Or a she. He wasn't sure.
"This is Raymond, he's a gelding, he used to be a trail horse but now he's mostly blind."
At Danny's speaking, the horse turned in their general direction and came walking toward them. Danny pulled out a carrot from his pocket and gave it to him. The horse snorted on his hand before taking it.
"He used to be yours?"
"He belonged to the Bakers', they ran horses for nature trails over in Lincoln Woods, then we bought him about two years ago as a trail gelding until he started bumping into things and we realized he was going blind."
"So why are you keeping him?"
"He's still healthy otherwise."
He reached out to touch the horse, and it shied away from him for a minute. Grim offered his hand like he would to a dog unfamiliar with his scent, and the horse sniffed it, and stood still. Grim scratched the top of the horse's head as Danny kept running through his resume. "Short answer is," Grim said, "he's just blind."
Danny looked up from his tablet. "Yeah, that's the short answer."
"How much?"
"$2,500."
"That's fine. How much to board him until I need him?"
"$500 a month."
"I'll need him before then, but I'll pay for the month. Where do I go pay for it?"
"In the office."
Grim followed Danny to the office in silence. Danny held the door open for him and gave him a look that Grim couldn't actually read, it seemed empty of all emotion. Grim stepped into the office.
"Cassie, this man is buying Raymond."
The woman looked at Grim. "But Raymond's--"
"He knows."
"Oh." Cassie started drawing up paperwork. Grim explained he'd be boarded here and would pay for the boarding up front. When given the total, he counted out the money from his wallet in hundreds on the counter. Cassie took them without a word, and put it in the drawer. "You can come visit him any time you like."
"Thank you, I think I will now, if you don't mind?"
"Not at all," said Danny.
Grim nodded, and went back to the stable. As he walked, he felt around for ley lines. There wasn't much that he could grab hold of, so he let it alone and entered the stable. He stopped at the stall, and saw the horse in its same position as it had been when he first saw it.
"Raymond," Grim called.
The horse perked up its ears and turned its head. Grim looked over the stall door to see if it was clear, then vaulted over it. He walked across the hay-strewn floor carefully. He took out a long blue, and braided it in the animal's mane. He nodded, and stepped back. Then he turned to see hand brushes against the wall. He picked them up, and began brushing the horse down, singing a spell of calmness under his breath.
Grim lit down just beyond the gates of the Journey's End Horse Farm. He had called them earlier to ask if they had any horses for sale, and they said they had a few. With a name like Journey's End, he figured that this was where old horses went.
He walked up to the office. The woman at the desk looked up at him, and her mouth dropped in shock. "I called earlier about some horses for sale," he said calmly, knowing his appearance was probably what made her look shocked. He smiled, and tried to be as normal as possible.
"Uh, hm, right..." She picked up a walkie-talkie. "Danny, someone here to see you."
"Be right there," came the voice back, and Grim stepped back from the counter to wait by the door.
Soon, a handsome man came into the room, long brown hair pulled back in a pony-tail, dressed in a simple sweater and jeans. Grim smiled and held out his hand. "Michael LaBonte," he said.
Danny shook Grim's hand. "Danny Mason." He studied him for a minute. "Want me to take you around?"
"Sure," Grim said, and Danny grabbed a small tablet laptop and went outside with him.
"If you don't mind my asking, what were you planning on doing with a horse?"
"Does it matter?"
Danny stopped, and gave Grim a look. "To us it does. You look like one of those demon worshippers."
"I was. I'm not anymore."
"Then what do you want a horse for?"
He said quietly, "I need it for a ritual."
"You're going to kill it."
"Humanely. Honestly, I won't cause it any pain, and it's not going to be used to summon evil spirits or anything like that. I swear on the River Styx."
Danny looked at him. "Do you mind if they're sick or old?"
"That's what I was expecting to find here. The name of the place is Journey's End."
Danny gave him a small smile. "It's from a Western movie. It doesn't mean here is where horses come to die."
"Oh." He looked down. "Then that's my mistake."
"I really don't feel comfortable about this."
"Then don't do it."
"Nobody else will sell to you for that, you know."
"I figured I'd be up front and honest."
"There's such a thing as too much honesty."
"Why would someone want to buy a sick or dying horse?"
"Okay, I see your point. But you shouldn't say you're going to kill it."
"Humanely."
"It's still killing it," Danny said, turning around to look at him.
Grim only stared. Danny finally sighed. "I think I have one for you."
Grim followed Danny into the stables, and was assaulted by the natural smell of horses and manure. Grim knew that smell would be with him for hours. Danny stopped at the first stall and pulled out his tablet.
The horse in the stall didn't even move at their approach. He was brown with a long black tail and mane - at least it looked like a he. Or a she. He wasn't sure.
"This is Raymond, he's a gelding, he used to be a trail horse but now he's mostly blind."
At Danny's speaking, the horse turned in their general direction and came walking toward them. Danny pulled out a carrot from his pocket and gave it to him. The horse snorted on his hand before taking it.
"He used to be yours?"
"He belonged to the Bakers', they ran horses for nature trails over in Lincoln Woods, then we bought him about two years ago as a trail gelding until he started bumping into things and we realized he was going blind."
"So why are you keeping him?"
"He's still healthy otherwise."
He reached out to touch the horse, and it shied away from him for a minute. Grim offered his hand like he would to a dog unfamiliar with his scent, and the horse sniffed it, and stood still. Grim scratched the top of the horse's head as Danny kept running through his resume. "Short answer is," Grim said, "he's just blind."
Danny looked up from his tablet. "Yeah, that's the short answer."
"How much?"
"$2,500."
"That's fine. How much to board him until I need him?"
"$500 a month."
"I'll need him before then, but I'll pay for the month. Where do I go pay for it?"
"In the office."
Grim followed Danny to the office in silence. Danny held the door open for him and gave him a look that Grim couldn't actually read, it seemed empty of all emotion. Grim stepped into the office.
"Cassie, this man is buying Raymond."
The woman looked at Grim. "But Raymond's--"
"He knows."
"Oh." Cassie started drawing up paperwork. Grim explained he'd be boarded here and would pay for the boarding up front. When given the total, he counted out the money from his wallet in hundreds on the counter. Cassie took them without a word, and put it in the drawer. "You can come visit him any time you like."
"Thank you, I think I will now, if you don't mind?"
"Not at all," said Danny.
Grim nodded, and went back to the stable. As he walked, he felt around for ley lines. There wasn't much that he could grab hold of, so he let it alone and entered the stable. He stopped at the stall, and saw the horse in its same position as it had been when he first saw it.
"Raymond," Grim called.
The horse perked up its ears and turned its head. Grim looked over the stall door to see if it was clear, then vaulted over it. He walked across the hay-strewn floor carefully. He took out a long blue, and braided it in the animal's mane. He nodded, and stepped back. Then he turned to see hand brushes against the wall. He picked them up, and began brushing the horse down, singing a spell of calmness under his breath.
(Influenced by the APA Ethical Guidelines, 2002)
Principle A: Beneficence and Nonmaleficence
First, do no harm. In our professional actions, we seek to safeguard the welfare and rights of those with whom we interact professionally and other affected persons. When conflicts occur among our obligations or concerns, we attempt to resolve these conflicts in a responsible fashion that avoids or minimizes harm.
Principle B: Fidelity and Responsibility
We establish relationships of trust with those with whom we work. We are aware of our professional responsibility to society and to the Corps. We consult with, refer to, or cooperate with other professionals to the extent needed to serve the best interests of those with whom we work.
Principle C: Integrity
We seek to provide accuracy, honesty, and truthfulness. In these activities we do not engage in fraud, subterfuge, or intentional misrepresentation of fact.
Principle D: Respect for People's Rights and Dignity
We respect the dignity and worth of all people, and the rights of individuals to privacy, confidentiality, and self-determination, except when endangering themselves or others or as required by law enforcement.
4.0 Confidentialty
4.01 We have a primary obligation and take reasonable precautions to protect confidential information obtained, recognizing that the extent and limits of confidentiality may be regulated by law.
4.02 Unless it is not feasible or is contraindicated, the discussion of confidentiality occurs at the outset of the relationship and thereafter as new circumstances may warrant.
4.03 Before accessing individuals to whom they provide services, we obtain permission from all such persons, the highest-ranking person of the group you are working for, or a member of law enforcement.
...
Principle A: Beneficence and Nonmaleficence
First, do no harm. In our professional actions, we seek to safeguard the welfare and rights of those with whom we interact professionally and other affected persons. When conflicts occur among our obligations or concerns, we attempt to resolve these conflicts in a responsible fashion that avoids or minimizes harm.
Principle B: Fidelity and Responsibility
We establish relationships of trust with those with whom we work. We are aware of our professional responsibility to society and to the Corps. We consult with, refer to, or cooperate with other professionals to the extent needed to serve the best interests of those with whom we work.
Principle C: Integrity
We seek to provide accuracy, honesty, and truthfulness. In these activities we do not engage in fraud, subterfuge, or intentional misrepresentation of fact.
Principle D: Respect for People's Rights and Dignity
We respect the dignity and worth of all people, and the rights of individuals to privacy, confidentiality, and self-determination, except when endangering themselves or others or as required by law enforcement.
4.0 Confidentialty
4.01 We have a primary obligation and take reasonable precautions to protect confidential information obtained, recognizing that the extent and limits of confidentiality may be regulated by law.
4.02 Unless it is not feasible or is contraindicated, the discussion of confidentiality occurs at the outset of the relationship and thereafter as new circumstances may warrant.
4.03 Before accessing individuals to whom they provide services, we obtain permission from all such persons, the highest-ranking person of the group you are working for, or a member of law enforcement.
...
Thursday, January 28, 2010
(Having taken place before the events depicted in "Shifting Characters Without a Clutch")
All mages carried wands or athames (pronounced ah-THE-may in some circles). These were used as a ritualistic tool for directing energy. However, Thornites used these things differently. Their athames were from the thorn tree in Nerva, used for cutting flesh as well as directing energy.
Grim was no different. Grim had gone through two thorn athames in his time with the Circle, and gave them up when he left them. He had two specially made, silver ones, and kept one for his use, the twin to the one he had used to bind his demoness. Grim destroyed after it was realized he didn't need it because of the white light he was able to direct.
Now he needed a new one. He could easily go into any magic shop and pick one up, but most of the time they were already consecrated or at the very least tainted by its maker. The other option was to find one, and quick. He went to Astoria. He could pilfer one off a Banished Pantheon shaman and cleanse it.
Grim took out his divining rod. Banished Pantheon were everywhere, but he needed something particular. He pictured what he wanted, the "essence" that would be in the blade, and he followed the rod's direction. It brought him deep into Astoria, to the actual cemetary there. He continued into the catacombs under the hill, and stopped at a wall.
"Well, that doesn't help," he said, scratching his head. "I didn't think I'd need C-4."
"You don't."
Grim whirled around in a crouch and faced a man dressed in a simple brown tunic, and wearing a winged helmet on his black curly hair. Grim noticed his winged sandals. His gaze went back up, and Grim noted he filled out that tunic pretty nicely. The man smiled, "Thank you."
"You heard that?"
"It's pretty obvious."
"Let me guess. You're Hermes."
"What gave it away?"
"The wings."
"Mmmhmm..." He then took out something from his tunic and tossed it on the ground. "You're going to need this."
It was a simple dagger, its plain sheath glittering silver in the dimness, but its handle was black and seemed to suck light into it.
"You're the trickster god," Grim said, leary.
"Why does everyone right away think that? I'm a messenger god, too. That's a message to you from Hades."
"So I am a reaper."
"You work for him, he might as well give you the tools of the trade."
Grim bent down and picked it up. It thrummed in his hand, and the sheath grew brighter. "Do I have to claim souls when I unsheath it, or does it demand blood, or..?"
"What do you think this is, some fantasy novel?"
Grim unsheathed the blade. It was silver, and finely edged.
"However, it does have some special properties."
"I knew it."
"Oh, you'll like them. Not only does it rend flesh, but it also rends souls. You can cut the soul away from the body instead of yanking it out like you used to do. More humane that way, don't you think?"
"A humane reaper. That's an oxymoron if I ever heard one."
"You're Hades' version of Dr. Kavorkian."
Grim looked up at Hermes and chuckled. "You're not what I expected from a god."
"They're all stuck up." He smiled. "You could serve me instead."
"Uh, no. I don't like stealing things. Life force, no problem, but not people's stuff." He examined the blade. "What else does it do?"
"You never have to sharpen it. It hurts anything with a soul."
"Provided I hit them."
"Yes, you need to have physical contact with them."
"Can I use it as a director of energy?"
"Once it's bloodied you can't."
Grim sheathed the blade. "Does it have a name?"
"Scythe."
"You're kidding. That's original."
"I'm not the one making this stuff up. Take it up with Hades."
"No, no, thank you."
"Thought so." He hovered in the air. "Michael. Like Marcus said about the Pius, don't let it consume you. Don't let this consume you, either." With that, he flew straight up in the air, and through the rock above them.
All mages carried wands or athames (pronounced ah-THE-may in some circles). These were used as a ritualistic tool for directing energy. However, Thornites used these things differently. Their athames were from the thorn tree in Nerva, used for cutting flesh as well as directing energy.
Grim was no different. Grim had gone through two thorn athames in his time with the Circle, and gave them up when he left them. He had two specially made, silver ones, and kept one for his use, the twin to the one he had used to bind his demoness. Grim destroyed after it was realized he didn't need it because of the white light he was able to direct.
Now he needed a new one. He could easily go into any magic shop and pick one up, but most of the time they were already consecrated or at the very least tainted by its maker. The other option was to find one, and quick. He went to Astoria. He could pilfer one off a Banished Pantheon shaman and cleanse it.
Grim took out his divining rod. Banished Pantheon were everywhere, but he needed something particular. He pictured what he wanted, the "essence" that would be in the blade, and he followed the rod's direction. It brought him deep into Astoria, to the actual cemetary there. He continued into the catacombs under the hill, and stopped at a wall.
"Well, that doesn't help," he said, scratching his head. "I didn't think I'd need C-4."
"You don't."
Grim whirled around in a crouch and faced a man dressed in a simple brown tunic, and wearing a winged helmet on his black curly hair. Grim noticed his winged sandals. His gaze went back up, and Grim noted he filled out that tunic pretty nicely. The man smiled, "Thank you."
"You heard that?"
"It's pretty obvious."
"Let me guess. You're Hermes."
"What gave it away?"
"The wings."
"Mmmhmm..." He then took out something from his tunic and tossed it on the ground. "You're going to need this."
It was a simple dagger, its plain sheath glittering silver in the dimness, but its handle was black and seemed to suck light into it.
"You're the trickster god," Grim said, leary.
"Why does everyone right away think that? I'm a messenger god, too. That's a message to you from Hades."
"So I am a reaper."
"You work for him, he might as well give you the tools of the trade."
Grim bent down and picked it up. It thrummed in his hand, and the sheath grew brighter. "Do I have to claim souls when I unsheath it, or does it demand blood, or..?"
"What do you think this is, some fantasy novel?"
Grim unsheathed the blade. It was silver, and finely edged.
"However, it does have some special properties."
"I knew it."
"Oh, you'll like them. Not only does it rend flesh, but it also rends souls. You can cut the soul away from the body instead of yanking it out like you used to do. More humane that way, don't you think?"
"A humane reaper. That's an oxymoron if I ever heard one."
"You're Hades' version of Dr. Kavorkian."
Grim looked up at Hermes and chuckled. "You're not what I expected from a god."
"They're all stuck up." He smiled. "You could serve me instead."
"Uh, no. I don't like stealing things. Life force, no problem, but not people's stuff." He examined the blade. "What else does it do?"
"You never have to sharpen it. It hurts anything with a soul."
"Provided I hit them."
"Yes, you need to have physical contact with them."
"Can I use it as a director of energy?"
"Once it's bloodied you can't."
Grim sheathed the blade. "Does it have a name?"
"Scythe."
"You're kidding. That's original."
"I'm not the one making this stuff up. Take it up with Hades."
"No, no, thank you."
"Thought so." He hovered in the air. "Michael. Like Marcus said about the Pius, don't let it consume you. Don't let this consume you, either." With that, he flew straight up in the air, and through the rock above them.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Many, many, MANY years from now...and not canon.
Inspired by:
"Seen a million faces
Seen a million places die
Well I wonder who will walk with me
When I get to heaven..."
Hootie and the Blowfish, Old Man & Me (When I Get to Heaven)
The next thing he knew, he was on a boat. Kalius looked down at himself, dressed in full Grecian armor, the armor he was buried in.
"Sexah," said a voice behind him.
Kalius turned around to see a blond main with gentle blue eyes, dressed all in grey, holding a staff as he rocked with the boat's movements. What struck him were the wings on his back, black as a raven's. However, his halo was bright gold.
"You look silly with a halo, Grim."
"Don't I?" He grinned. "I've been asking them if I really have to wear it, but down here it's like an ID badge."
Kalius walked across the boat to him. Grim smiled at him, and gently turned him around so he faced the prow. "Look ashore. They await you."
Sure enough, a crowd of people waited on shore, people of many times and places, of all the lives Kalius had lived during his search for Dimitrius. His soul seemed to want to jump out of the boat and join them immediately, it was Grim's hand on his shoulder that restrained him.
The boat touched the shore, and Kalius was out of it in moments, making sure not to touch the water. Immediately he was surrounded by happy faces of family and comrades, and he would have wept if he could. Then Grim was guiding another man in robes out of the boat and helped him to make sure he didn't step in the water. Kalius turned to look at Grim, knowing this would be the last time he'd see him. Grim gently slid the hood off the man he had guided.
Kalius gasped. "Dimitrius."
Dimitrius smiled at Kalius. Kalius in his Grecian form was a big man, and pulled Dimitrius into his arms. Grim stood by, watching, with tears in his eyes. "How did you..?"
"You wouldn't believe the strings I had to pull," Grim said with a smile. He nodded to Dimitrius. "I was very gentle."
"What did you have to do?" Kalius gave him a look.
"Oh, renewed my contract. For a couple hundred years."
"Grim!"
"Don't worry, Kal. Time here is different. I'll be done in no time." Grim hugged Dimitrius, and then hugged Kal tightly. "You know I love my job."
"Too much, sometimes."
Grim laughed. "True, that." He drew Dimitrius and Kalius together. "You boys have fun, now." He spread his raven wings and suspended in the air. "Be seeing you soon."
"Grim..."
"I love you, Kalius of Thebes."
"I love you, too, Michael."
Grim gave him a Grecian salute, and flew straight up, then headed back East. Dimitrius slipped his arm around Kalius' waist, and Kalius did the same, watching Grim's grey light fade away.
Inspired by:
"Seen a million faces
Seen a million places die
Well I wonder who will walk with me
When I get to heaven..."
Hootie and the Blowfish, Old Man & Me (When I Get to Heaven)
The next thing he knew, he was on a boat. Kalius looked down at himself, dressed in full Grecian armor, the armor he was buried in.
"Sexah," said a voice behind him.
Kalius turned around to see a blond main with gentle blue eyes, dressed all in grey, holding a staff as he rocked with the boat's movements. What struck him were the wings on his back, black as a raven's. However, his halo was bright gold.
"You look silly with a halo, Grim."
"Don't I?" He grinned. "I've been asking them if I really have to wear it, but down here it's like an ID badge."
Kalius walked across the boat to him. Grim smiled at him, and gently turned him around so he faced the prow. "Look ashore. They await you."
Sure enough, a crowd of people waited on shore, people of many times and places, of all the lives Kalius had lived during his search for Dimitrius. His soul seemed to want to jump out of the boat and join them immediately, it was Grim's hand on his shoulder that restrained him.
The boat touched the shore, and Kalius was out of it in moments, making sure not to touch the water. Immediately he was surrounded by happy faces of family and comrades, and he would have wept if he could. Then Grim was guiding another man in robes out of the boat and helped him to make sure he didn't step in the water. Kalius turned to look at Grim, knowing this would be the last time he'd see him. Grim gently slid the hood off the man he had guided.
Kalius gasped. "Dimitrius."
Dimitrius smiled at Kalius. Kalius in his Grecian form was a big man, and pulled Dimitrius into his arms. Grim stood by, watching, with tears in his eyes. "How did you..?"
"You wouldn't believe the strings I had to pull," Grim said with a smile. He nodded to Dimitrius. "I was very gentle."
"What did you have to do?" Kalius gave him a look.
"Oh, renewed my contract. For a couple hundred years."
"Grim!"
"Don't worry, Kal. Time here is different. I'll be done in no time." Grim hugged Dimitrius, and then hugged Kal tightly. "You know I love my job."
"Too much, sometimes."
Grim laughed. "True, that." He drew Dimitrius and Kalius together. "You boys have fun, now." He spread his raven wings and suspended in the air. "Be seeing you soon."
"Grim..."
"I love you, Kalius of Thebes."
"I love you, too, Michael."
Grim gave him a Grecian salute, and flew straight up, then headed back East. Dimitrius slipped his arm around Kalius' waist, and Kalius did the same, watching Grim's grey light fade away.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Okay, so the Chum Bucket was filled with mostly gamblers out for a quick fix of their addiction during their lunch hour, but the place served the best greasy clam rolls this side of Nerva. The cook behind the counter carried more scars on his face than the railroad map of Chicago, and he brokered no arguments from any of the patrons at the counter. Not that anyone ever gave him any lip, because he was a damn good cook.
Someone sat next to Grim as he finished up his tartar sauce with his fries. So he was a sick man and liked to dip his fries in mayonnaise. "Hail, Mage," said a woman's voice.
He turned expecting to see Harmonia. Instead he saw a non-descript urchin of a woman who looked like she had been beaten earlier in the day. Her hair fell out of a ragged pony tail, and she wore a simple faded purple sweatshirt and jeans. Her eyes were blue as sapphires, though, bright in a blackened dirty face. It took him a minute to realize he was being addressed in Greek.
"Hail, 'Armonia," he replied, because that was the voice who spoke to him.
"I need to ask of you some favors."
"Some favors? At least you're honest."
"Do you love the Champion of Ares?"
He regarded her. "Yes, I do," he said.
"Will you do anything for him?"
"No, obviously not," he said. "I won't be his and his alone."
"Anything else?"
"What are you getting at?"
She took a deep breath. "Can you use your dark powers for good?"
"I was a hero with them before, yeah."
"No, use them for good. You were not a hero - you did it to make your demoness angry. Can you use them to help people?"
"Sure, I did it before...Sort of."
"Will you do it again?"
"Why?" He regarded her.
She looked up at him. "If you wish to help stave off Hades from the Champion of Ares, he wishes you to be his servant."
Grim turned from her, and reached for his coke. He sipped it until the straw slurped. "I thought I was supposed to be God's servant. Redeemed and all that shit."
"He seems to think you can be both."
"Is that possible?"
"Only by God's will."
He put the cup down. "Then you can tell him I already am. Might as well get some credit for what I've been doing these last four hours."
"He is the Lord of Death, Mage, not the Lord of Evil."
"Like I said, I already am." He took out something from his pocket and held it up in the light. It was a thick, fat index finger. He put it back. "I don't do what I do for evil. I do it for protection. Plus it looks really impressive."
"Then I ask another favor. Please come home. The Champion loves you."
Grim remembered Kalius' look in his eyes when he left him. They were full of pain and abandonment, the same look Stefan had given him a while ago. He looked down at his bag.
"He also defended you to Raina and Jack. He spoke of the technomancers and he is of the same agreement as you. You are not alone, Mage."
"Him, and Stefan, and Rusty. Jack was, but he has to defend them now. Why, I still don't know. Maybe even Mark."
"It is because of the children--"
He slammed his fist on the counter and yelled at her in English, "You know what? I'm sick and fucking tired of hearing about 'it's for the children'. If it was just Jack and Raina's babies, I wouldn't have a problem with it. But these fucking bastards have to stick their fucking noses in a god damn fetus! And Jack and Raina go running to them for help, when we could have figured it out ourselves. They're the ones that fucking started this shit! They're the enemy! We could have handled them. And we're now supposed to kowtow to them because they're involved? They're like the kids' uncles?" He grabbed his bag. "They promised they would be gone by the turn of the tide three days ago. They lied. AGAIN. And made things worse. AGAIN." He looked at her. "I won't play their stupid games and I sure won't play follow the leader to LeBeau." He started to walk out.
"What about Kalius, and Stefan? They need you."
He stopped. It was the first time she had called them by their names. He turned around slowly and could see pain in those sapphire eyes, they reminded him of Kalius and Stefan. He sighed. "Fine, I'll go back. But maybe you should call me Uriel."
Someone sat next to Grim as he finished up his tartar sauce with his fries. So he was a sick man and liked to dip his fries in mayonnaise. "Hail, Mage," said a woman's voice.
He turned expecting to see Harmonia. Instead he saw a non-descript urchin of a woman who looked like she had been beaten earlier in the day. Her hair fell out of a ragged pony tail, and she wore a simple faded purple sweatshirt and jeans. Her eyes were blue as sapphires, though, bright in a blackened dirty face. It took him a minute to realize he was being addressed in Greek.
"Hail, 'Armonia," he replied, because that was the voice who spoke to him.
"I need to ask of you some favors."
"Some favors? At least you're honest."
"Do you love the Champion of Ares?"
He regarded her. "Yes, I do," he said.
"Will you do anything for him?"
"No, obviously not," he said. "I won't be his and his alone."
"Anything else?"
"What are you getting at?"
She took a deep breath. "Can you use your dark powers for good?"
"I was a hero with them before, yeah."
"No, use them for good. You were not a hero - you did it to make your demoness angry. Can you use them to help people?"
"Sure, I did it before...Sort of."
"Will you do it again?"
"Why?" He regarded her.
She looked up at him. "If you wish to help stave off Hades from the Champion of Ares, he wishes you to be his servant."
Grim turned from her, and reached for his coke. He sipped it until the straw slurped. "I thought I was supposed to be God's servant. Redeemed and all that shit."
"He seems to think you can be both."
"Is that possible?"
"Only by God's will."
He put the cup down. "Then you can tell him I already am. Might as well get some credit for what I've been doing these last four hours."
"He is the Lord of Death, Mage, not the Lord of Evil."
"Like I said, I already am." He took out something from his pocket and held it up in the light. It was a thick, fat index finger. He put it back. "I don't do what I do for evil. I do it for protection. Plus it looks really impressive."
"Then I ask another favor. Please come home. The Champion loves you."
Grim remembered Kalius' look in his eyes when he left him. They were full of pain and abandonment, the same look Stefan had given him a while ago. He looked down at his bag.
"He also defended you to Raina and Jack. He spoke of the technomancers and he is of the same agreement as you. You are not alone, Mage."
"Him, and Stefan, and Rusty. Jack was, but he has to defend them now. Why, I still don't know. Maybe even Mark."
"It is because of the children--"
He slammed his fist on the counter and yelled at her in English, "You know what? I'm sick and fucking tired of hearing about 'it's for the children'. If it was just Jack and Raina's babies, I wouldn't have a problem with it. But these fucking bastards have to stick their fucking noses in a god damn fetus! And Jack and Raina go running to them for help, when we could have figured it out ourselves. They're the ones that fucking started this shit! They're the enemy! We could have handled them. And we're now supposed to kowtow to them because they're involved? They're like the kids' uncles?" He grabbed his bag. "They promised they would be gone by the turn of the tide three days ago. They lied. AGAIN. And made things worse. AGAIN." He looked at her. "I won't play their stupid games and I sure won't play follow the leader to LeBeau." He started to walk out.
"What about Kalius, and Stefan? They need you."
He stopped. It was the first time she had called them by their names. He turned around slowly and could see pain in those sapphire eyes, they reminded him of Kalius and Stefan. He sighed. "Fine, I'll go back. But maybe you should call me Uriel."
Grim got rudely shaken awake by the boathand. "Yo. We're here."
Grim nodded, and picked up his bag and coat. He uncurled his wings that had been crushed underneath him - good thing they had no nerves attached to them except at the base - and stood up, stretching and yawning. He wove his way through the freight frigate's bowels to find his way topside. He nodded at the captain and took the gangplank to shore.
Sharkhead seemed pretty busy. He ignored the Scrapyarders, who gave him a double take with his black skin and blue wings. If they wanted to try anything with him, he was prepared. In fact, he wanted them to try something. He headed to the Chum Bucket, walked past it, to another nondescript corner building. He pushed his way inside and was assaulted by something that grabbed at his mind, attempting to yank it out of his skull. He had expected this, and put up defenses.
"Grimaulkin?" came a voice at the end of the room.
"You remembered."
"Nobody else is that creative with PVC pipe, duct tape, and human orafices." A tall, thin man came out from the back, and held out his hand. "How the hell are you?"
"Good, Petey." He shook his hand. "See you're still in business." He looked around the place.
"Meh, the usual. What're you looking for?" He walked back toward a counter with an old fashioned crank cash register.
"I need a place to stay for a couple of days. Maybe longer."
"Madame Purpur's bordello is still open. She loves you."
"She loved the customers Dysio brought in."
"Where is he, anyway?"
"Gone. Banished him."
Petey nodded. "Incubi kind of get annoying after a few months. That all you're looking for?"
"Does Joey still work at the city morgue?"
"Joey Sistek? Yeah, I think so. Been a couple of months since I've heard otherwise."
"Hm..."
"Looking for bones?"
"Yeah, I'm all out."
"Enough winos in the alley."
"In a pinch, I suppose. But they move around alot."
"You don't kill them?"
He said it so nonchalantly, and Grim realized what he had gotten himself back into. He found himself gulping nervously. He knew Petey noticed it. The old Grim wouldn't have thought twice about stabbing a wino through and taking all his fingers one by one. What the hell was he doing here?
Grim said, to cover up his discomfort, "I'd rather have them already dead. Less messy."
"Heh, pansy," Petey said. "Kill them at a distance." He held up his finger in the shape of a gun. "Pew, pew."
"Don't need a gun."
"Then go to town, man."
Grim chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "Okay, see you later, then."
"Nice seeing you again. Stop in anytime."
Grim closed the door quietly and looked out at the blighted landscape of Sharkhead. Really...what the hell was he doing here? He told Kalius he wanted to be free, but he really didn't want to go back to what he was. He liked Havens. He loved the people there - except...
Jack and Raina had changed. The technomancers and all their machinations had changed them, and by force, changed them all. Grim had never felt such pure hate, that he would want to kill a man on sight, even against John he didn't feel this. John he could play with and tease. These technomancers...no. If he tried to do anything, they would come up with something to counteract him. And even as he fought them, Jack and Raina didn't want him to - for the sake of the babies.
He looked out at the alleyway and saw the wino there, passed out. "Fuckin' babies," he spat, and walked over to the man. He knelt down next to him as his rage coursed through him. Then he took a deep breath and focused that energy into a rune that he drew on the man's chest. It flared red, and disappeared into his clothes. The man suddenly started to gasp, and put his hands to his chest, pulling at his clothes. Grim waited for the heart to stop.
"Fuck your 17 words," Grim said, as he watched the man die. "I got runes."
Grim nodded, and picked up his bag and coat. He uncurled his wings that had been crushed underneath him - good thing they had no nerves attached to them except at the base - and stood up, stretching and yawning. He wove his way through the freight frigate's bowels to find his way topside. He nodded at the captain and took the gangplank to shore.
Sharkhead seemed pretty busy. He ignored the Scrapyarders, who gave him a double take with his black skin and blue wings. If they wanted to try anything with him, he was prepared. In fact, he wanted them to try something. He headed to the Chum Bucket, walked past it, to another nondescript corner building. He pushed his way inside and was assaulted by something that grabbed at his mind, attempting to yank it out of his skull. He had expected this, and put up defenses.
"Grimaulkin?" came a voice at the end of the room.
"You remembered."
"Nobody else is that creative with PVC pipe, duct tape, and human orafices." A tall, thin man came out from the back, and held out his hand. "How the hell are you?"
"Good, Petey." He shook his hand. "See you're still in business." He looked around the place.
"Meh, the usual. What're you looking for?" He walked back toward a counter with an old fashioned crank cash register.
"I need a place to stay for a couple of days. Maybe longer."
"Madame Purpur's bordello is still open. She loves you."
"She loved the customers Dysio brought in."
"Where is he, anyway?"
"Gone. Banished him."
Petey nodded. "Incubi kind of get annoying after a few months. That all you're looking for?"
"Does Joey still work at the city morgue?"
"Joey Sistek? Yeah, I think so. Been a couple of months since I've heard otherwise."
"Hm..."
"Looking for bones?"
"Yeah, I'm all out."
"Enough winos in the alley."
"In a pinch, I suppose. But they move around alot."
"You don't kill them?"
He said it so nonchalantly, and Grim realized what he had gotten himself back into. He found himself gulping nervously. He knew Petey noticed it. The old Grim wouldn't have thought twice about stabbing a wino through and taking all his fingers one by one. What the hell was he doing here?
Grim said, to cover up his discomfort, "I'd rather have them already dead. Less messy."
"Heh, pansy," Petey said. "Kill them at a distance." He held up his finger in the shape of a gun. "Pew, pew."
"Don't need a gun."
"Then go to town, man."
Grim chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "Okay, see you later, then."
"Nice seeing you again. Stop in anytime."
Grim closed the door quietly and looked out at the blighted landscape of Sharkhead. Really...what the hell was he doing here? He told Kalius he wanted to be free, but he really didn't want to go back to what he was. He liked Havens. He loved the people there - except...
Jack and Raina had changed. The technomancers and all their machinations had changed them, and by force, changed them all. Grim had never felt such pure hate, that he would want to kill a man on sight, even against John he didn't feel this. John he could play with and tease. These technomancers...no. If he tried to do anything, they would come up with something to counteract him. And even as he fought them, Jack and Raina didn't want him to - for the sake of the babies.
He looked out at the alleyway and saw the wino there, passed out. "Fuckin' babies," he spat, and walked over to the man. He knelt down next to him as his rage coursed through him. Then he took a deep breath and focused that energy into a rune that he drew on the man's chest. It flared red, and disappeared into his clothes. The man suddenly started to gasp, and put his hands to his chest, pulling at his clothes. Grim waited for the heart to stop.
"Fuck your 17 words," Grim said, as he watched the man die. "I got runes."
Harmonia walked across the bridge that was over the dark moat full of skeletons and brackish black water. The castle was made of sheer granite, cold and uninviting. The portcullis was sharpened and she could see bits of flesh hanging off the points. Harmonia held down a shudder as she walked into the courtyard, which was miles long and surrounded by the walls of granite. In the courtyard stood all instruments of war, from simple swords to tanks in the distance. This was not the land of the dead, but it very well could be, with the moaning wind passing through, singing of the horrors of war.
She found her father in the simple garb of an Africaans infantry field soldier, complete with a Vektor R4 strung across his back. His red hair peeked out from under the black beret. He was studying a cannon, taking pieces of it off with his power and looking at what was underneath.
"Greetings, father," Harmonia said, and bowed.
"Greetings to you, dear daughter." He turned to her, his glowing red eyes focusing on her, even while the cannon separated itself. "What brings you here? Not that I don't wish to see you." He smiled at her, which could be considered by most to be not pleasant.
"I wish to speak to you about one of your champions."
"Oh? Enamoured by him, are you? Of course you have my permission to do what you will with him, so long as you don't distract him from his duty to me."
"Actually, no, father. It is Kalius of Thebes, the general from the Sacred Band."
"Oh, yes, the one who searched for his love and found him as undead. I remember him. He is to stop Romulus."
"You gave him a time period to do so. He failed, father."
"I thought his team was supposed to help him. I sent an envoy to make sure of that."
"They all failed, father."
He sighed. "Oh, well." He turned to the cannon again.
"Father, he asks that you give him another chance."
"I've spoken to my uncle once about him. It's up to him."
"Will you at least speak with him again?"
"Hades wants the souls that belong to him." Ares turned to Harmonia. "You don't know him like I know him, dear daughter. If there is something he wants, he gets it."
She raised her head. "Then I will speak with him."
Ares said sadly, "Do not deal with the Lord of the Dead, Harmonia. He hungers for what you have and will take it and more."
"I only wish to speak with him."
"You are like me, determined."
She smiled a little. "Like father, like daughter."
He lovingly reached out and tousled her hair. "Do not stay long in his realm, Harmonia, or you will be lost."
She stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "I won't, father." She flapped her wings, and headed west.
As she flew west, the world grew darker. Most of the underworlds were located here, many different versions and many different cultures. The gates of Hades were built with living skeletons, screaming into the twilight. She passed through them easily and saw Cerberus, who saw her and roared, causing panic among the souls at his huge feet. She knew his chain only went so far, so she skirted as far away from him as she could and then entered the dark realm of the dead.
She could see the Elysian Fields as beautiful light in the darkness. Instead she turned from it and headed further down. As she did, her own light started to fade, and she felt heavier and heavier with despair. She fought it off, even as her own essence turned grey. She kept going further toward the center, where the despair and darkness was thickest. There stood another castle, similar to her father's, but cast in black marble. She flew into the sepulchre, and struggled to find her way through the labyrinth of halls to find her way to the gods.
"I see you, daughter of Ares and Aphrodite," came a booming voice all around her. She stopped, her wings fluttering. A man in full Grecian formal dress stepped out of the shadows, his eyes a glowing sickening green. His tunic swirled with darkness and spirits that clung to him. "Why do you come to my domain?"
"Uncle," she said, and went to her knees and prostrated herself at his sandaled feet. "I come to ask a favor."
"Many ask favors when they wish not to die."
She sat back on her knees. "Uncle, there is a man--"
"Kalius. I know of who you speak. When his time expires, the Reapers will retrieve him for me."
"No!" She grasped at the hem of his tunic.
"I have been denied his first lover. I have been denied his second lover. I will not be denied him."
"Give him more time, please!"
"What will you give me in return?" His voice seemed ominous. "I do nothing out of the goodness of my heart."
"What do you want?"
A dark chuckle escaped. "There is so much that I would want." He reached down and gently took her by the chin, lifting her up. "You look so much like your mother." He smiled, without any warmth behind it. "I want the Mage's service."
"The Mage has been spoken for, Uncle."
"His soul, not his service."
"He is not meant to be of the dark!"
"I see no reason that he cannot be both."
Harmonia gaped at him. "That's...impossible."
"Is it? Look at your champion, the man you are interceding for. He is not pure light, he is red as the blood he sheds for his patron. But he is a good man with a good soul. His soul will return to its proper place." He looked at her. "I am not evil, Harmonia, you know that. Otherwise, you would never have been able to come here. I am not of the Fallen."
"No, uncle, I know, but..."
"The darkness can be used for light. He has done it before. It's been done many times before, by others. It is not uncommon." He turned from Harmonia. "Have him serve me by using his dark powers for good, and I will wait for Kalius' soul."
"Uncle, that can't be done."
He walked away. "Anything can be done that is the will of God."
She found her father in the simple garb of an Africaans infantry field soldier, complete with a Vektor R4 strung across his back. His red hair peeked out from under the black beret. He was studying a cannon, taking pieces of it off with his power and looking at what was underneath.
"Greetings, father," Harmonia said, and bowed.
"Greetings to you, dear daughter." He turned to her, his glowing red eyes focusing on her, even while the cannon separated itself. "What brings you here? Not that I don't wish to see you." He smiled at her, which could be considered by most to be not pleasant.
"I wish to speak to you about one of your champions."
"Oh? Enamoured by him, are you? Of course you have my permission to do what you will with him, so long as you don't distract him from his duty to me."
"Actually, no, father. It is Kalius of Thebes, the general from the Sacred Band."
"Oh, yes, the one who searched for his love and found him as undead. I remember him. He is to stop Romulus."
"You gave him a time period to do so. He failed, father."
"I thought his team was supposed to help him. I sent an envoy to make sure of that."
"They all failed, father."
He sighed. "Oh, well." He turned to the cannon again.
"Father, he asks that you give him another chance."
"I've spoken to my uncle once about him. It's up to him."
"Will you at least speak with him again?"
"Hades wants the souls that belong to him." Ares turned to Harmonia. "You don't know him like I know him, dear daughter. If there is something he wants, he gets it."
She raised her head. "Then I will speak with him."
Ares said sadly, "Do not deal with the Lord of the Dead, Harmonia. He hungers for what you have and will take it and more."
"I only wish to speak with him."
"You are like me, determined."
She smiled a little. "Like father, like daughter."
He lovingly reached out and tousled her hair. "Do not stay long in his realm, Harmonia, or you will be lost."
She stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "I won't, father." She flapped her wings, and headed west.
As she flew west, the world grew darker. Most of the underworlds were located here, many different versions and many different cultures. The gates of Hades were built with living skeletons, screaming into the twilight. She passed through them easily and saw Cerberus, who saw her and roared, causing panic among the souls at his huge feet. She knew his chain only went so far, so she skirted as far away from him as she could and then entered the dark realm of the dead.
She could see the Elysian Fields as beautiful light in the darkness. Instead she turned from it and headed further down. As she did, her own light started to fade, and she felt heavier and heavier with despair. She fought it off, even as her own essence turned grey. She kept going further toward the center, where the despair and darkness was thickest. There stood another castle, similar to her father's, but cast in black marble. She flew into the sepulchre, and struggled to find her way through the labyrinth of halls to find her way to the gods.
"I see you, daughter of Ares and Aphrodite," came a booming voice all around her. She stopped, her wings fluttering. A man in full Grecian formal dress stepped out of the shadows, his eyes a glowing sickening green. His tunic swirled with darkness and spirits that clung to him. "Why do you come to my domain?"
"Uncle," she said, and went to her knees and prostrated herself at his sandaled feet. "I come to ask a favor."
"Many ask favors when they wish not to die."
She sat back on her knees. "Uncle, there is a man--"
"Kalius. I know of who you speak. When his time expires, the Reapers will retrieve him for me."
"No!" She grasped at the hem of his tunic.
"I have been denied his first lover. I have been denied his second lover. I will not be denied him."
"Give him more time, please!"
"What will you give me in return?" His voice seemed ominous. "I do nothing out of the goodness of my heart."
"What do you want?"
A dark chuckle escaped. "There is so much that I would want." He reached down and gently took her by the chin, lifting her up. "You look so much like your mother." He smiled, without any warmth behind it. "I want the Mage's service."
"The Mage has been spoken for, Uncle."
"His soul, not his service."
"He is not meant to be of the dark!"
"I see no reason that he cannot be both."
Harmonia gaped at him. "That's...impossible."
"Is it? Look at your champion, the man you are interceding for. He is not pure light, he is red as the blood he sheds for his patron. But he is a good man with a good soul. His soul will return to its proper place." He looked at her. "I am not evil, Harmonia, you know that. Otherwise, you would never have been able to come here. I am not of the Fallen."
"No, uncle, I know, but..."
"The darkness can be used for light. He has done it before. It's been done many times before, by others. It is not uncommon." He turned from Harmonia. "Have him serve me by using his dark powers for good, and I will wait for Kalius' soul."
"Uncle, that can't be done."
He walked away. "Anything can be done that is the will of God."
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Grim looked up at Harmonia when she walked into the dorm area. He had healed himself, and figured that the best thing would be to distance himself from everyone. He also decided he would ignore LeBeau, since right now everyone seemed to be on his side...
"Harmonia."
"Mik-ael," she said, and looked at him sorrowfully. "Why have you caused further discord? They have tried to help you."
"So I get the shit beat out of me?"
"Do you not think you deserve it?"
"I'm only expressing my opinion--"
"Full of hate." She came closer. "Ever since given access to the Light, to the Pius, to Stefan, you have gotten steadily more and more proud. This is not the way of the Light."
"I know what I'm doing." He looked up at the room he and Stefan shared. "I'm trusted. He knows me. I'm right."
She shook her head sadly. "The Light has made you dark." She raised her arm over him, and he suddenly shimmered in a white light.
"What're you--"
"The darkness made you bright."
He looked down at himself, and saw that he wore red robes and boots, and his hands were black as pitch.
He let out a cry, and looked around for Harmonia, who had disappeared.
Stefan entered the garden quietly. Uriel was a beautiful angel, with shoulder-length white hair and piercing blue eyes that turned stormy when angered. Uriel looked at Stefan and smiled warmly. "Greetings Seraphim Stefan," he said, and walked over to him.
"Greetings Chayot Uriel. You have summoned me?"
"Indeed." He smiled again. "It is about your charge."
Stefan nodded, looking up expectantly.
"You love, him, do you not?"
"I do," he said.
"You are devoted to him, to bringing him to the light."
"Of course, I am," he said, tilting his head curiously.
Uriel sighed. "Stefan, this is your first charge. It is expected that you love him and are devoted to him. However, Stefan, remember that you are to guide him. Sometimes, as a guide, you must be forceful."
"He is to choose his own path," Stefan said quietly.
"You are there to make sure he stays on the right one. As a shepherd, do you not guide the animals back to the path they are meant to go? You do not stand idly by as they wander off into the woods, but you follow them, catch them, and bring them back. You also check them, to make sure they are not injured, and take pains to prevent injuries by noting their environment and how they are acting with it. You know how they act because you become one with them."
Stefan nodded slowly. "I have failed," he said sadly.
Uriel touched Stefan's face and drew his chin up to look at him. "No, Seraphim, you have not failed. You have loved him as you were meant to do. Now you must guide him, but gently." Uriel smiled warmly. "You shall, if you wish, know his secrets and feelings at all times, in addition to what you already share. You can guide his thoughts to their correct direction. You have shown your love to him, and he to you." He let his hand linger on Stefan's cheek. "You must be firm, but gentle." Uriel let Stefan go, and smiled. "I know you can do that." He winked.
Stefan looked up at Uriel, smiling and not blushing, because he was proud of his love for Michael. Uriel said firmly, "I am afraid that you will have to do some duties for a short time, and you will not be able to return to him to sleep with him."
"I understand."
"He will no longer have access to the powers of the Light."
Stefan looked shocked. "What--?"
"He will be a mere mage again. A dark mage." Uriel looked away. "We have brought his redemption on too fast. He wasn't ready."
"He can still be redeemed, can't he?"
"Of course. Yahweh has a plan for him." He turned to Stefan and smiled. "And for you."
"Harmonia."
"Mik-ael," she said, and looked at him sorrowfully. "Why have you caused further discord? They have tried to help you."
"So I get the shit beat out of me?"
"Do you not think you deserve it?"
"I'm only expressing my opinion--"
"Full of hate." She came closer. "Ever since given access to the Light, to the Pius, to Stefan, you have gotten steadily more and more proud. This is not the way of the Light."
"I know what I'm doing." He looked up at the room he and Stefan shared. "I'm trusted. He knows me. I'm right."
She shook her head sadly. "The Light has made you dark." She raised her arm over him, and he suddenly shimmered in a white light.
"What're you--"
"The darkness made you bright."
He looked down at himself, and saw that he wore red robes and boots, and his hands were black as pitch.
He let out a cry, and looked around for Harmonia, who had disappeared.
Stefan entered the garden quietly. Uriel was a beautiful angel, with shoulder-length white hair and piercing blue eyes that turned stormy when angered. Uriel looked at Stefan and smiled warmly. "Greetings Seraphim Stefan," he said, and walked over to him.
"Greetings Chayot Uriel. You have summoned me?"
"Indeed." He smiled again. "It is about your charge."
Stefan nodded, looking up expectantly.
"You love, him, do you not?"
"I do," he said.
"You are devoted to him, to bringing him to the light."
"Of course, I am," he said, tilting his head curiously.
Uriel sighed. "Stefan, this is your first charge. It is expected that you love him and are devoted to him. However, Stefan, remember that you are to guide him. Sometimes, as a guide, you must be forceful."
"He is to choose his own path," Stefan said quietly.
"You are there to make sure he stays on the right one. As a shepherd, do you not guide the animals back to the path they are meant to go? You do not stand idly by as they wander off into the woods, but you follow them, catch them, and bring them back. You also check them, to make sure they are not injured, and take pains to prevent injuries by noting their environment and how they are acting with it. You know how they act because you become one with them."
Stefan nodded slowly. "I have failed," he said sadly.
Uriel touched Stefan's face and drew his chin up to look at him. "No, Seraphim, you have not failed. You have loved him as you were meant to do. Now you must guide him, but gently." Uriel smiled warmly. "You shall, if you wish, know his secrets and feelings at all times, in addition to what you already share. You can guide his thoughts to their correct direction. You have shown your love to him, and he to you." He let his hand linger on Stefan's cheek. "You must be firm, but gentle." Uriel let Stefan go, and smiled. "I know you can do that." He winked.
Stefan looked up at Uriel, smiling and not blushing, because he was proud of his love for Michael. Uriel said firmly, "I am afraid that you will have to do some duties for a short time, and you will not be able to return to him to sleep with him."
"I understand."
"He will no longer have access to the powers of the Light."
Stefan looked shocked. "What--?"
"He will be a mere mage again. A dark mage." Uriel looked away. "We have brought his redemption on too fast. He wasn't ready."
"He can still be redeemed, can't he?"
"Of course. Yahweh has a plan for him." He turned to Stefan and smiled. "And for you."
Friday, January 22, 2010
Dimitri had outworn his welcome.
Some cities, such as this one, would allow a vampire to wander its streets and take as needed, provided they were just passing through. Sometimes there was a time limit for a vampire to "pass through" a city.
Dimitri had overstayed.
He hadn't realized it until one night, when three Gangrel appeared out of the shadows in Kings Row. Dimiri had seen them before they walked out; they were young vampires and easily noted. He had no idea why the Gangrel appeared, only that they were in front of him, looking threatening.
"Prince Lafayette says you're not allowed here," growled one.
"Is there a Blood Hunt out on me?" He'd outrun those before. This would be no different, except he still had things to do here. He could wait centuries to come back, but how long would that Greek be alive?
"Not really," said another. "Your reputation preceeds you."
"Prince Lafayette thinks it's just an oversight on your part, Sherrif," continued the first. "You need to come with us."
Dimitri shrugged, and fell into step with them. They brought him to Founders Falls, to a nightclub that was lavish and absolutely full of blood dolls. As he expected, the Prince was set off to the side, holding court in a private room. Vampires waited in line to approach and kiss his ring, then present their petitions. Dimitri had been with his Prince in Phoenix long enough to know the rituals. He was patient when he needed to be.
Prince Lafayette turned jade eyes in Dimitri's direction. "Ah," he said, and inclined his head to Dimitri.
Dimitri walked forward and kissed the ring, then looked up at the Prince. Dimitiri was older than him, but, then Paragon was full of young vampires. When he left Phoenix, he thought the prince was named Jolyn, but things changed quickly in Paragon. "Prince Lafayette."
"I understand you're visiting our fair city."
"I didn't realize I had stayed so long without asking. Have there been any complaints?"
"No, no," said Lafayette with the patronizing tone of a new Prince. Dimitri kept his anger under control - he hated new Princes. "I merely wanted to know why you're here."
"I'm looking for a man."
"We have people for that."
"I would rather find him myself."
The Prince regarded him. "Ah, personal. You do have to ask permission to create childer." Again, that patronizing tone.
No shit, asshole. "That isn't the reason."
The Prince seemed to be waiting. Dimitri looked at him blankly. "Speak with Mimette over there to discuss your hunting grounds in the Row." The Prince gave him the smallest of shrugs in dismissal and motioned vaguely to the other side of the room.
Dimitri turned from him with military precision and looked at his Gangrel escort. "Who's Mimette?"
"Over there." He waved at the other side of the room like the Prince did.
"Where," Dimitri snarled. He was losing patience, and it was worse since he hadn't fed yet.
"I'll show you," said a red-haired young woman who took Dimitri's arm. She smelled mortal, and already had marks on her, so he couldn't feed from her. "Nobody here is helpful to new people," she said offhandedly.
"I've dealt with worse," he replied, letting her lead him through the kindred and kine to a dark-haired beauty dressed in black lace and gossamer, with a hunk of a mortal lying half-naked at her feet. She had her stilletto heels on his chest, and looked immensely bored.
"You are Mimette?" Dimitri asked.
"Yes," she said, looking up at him languidly. "You're the one's who's been eating all the Skulls."
"I am not damaging the Masquerade, am I?"
"No," she sighed. "The Circle of Thorns are mine. Everything else is up for grabs, within reason. You haven't fed yet."
"No, I haven't."
"Do you prefer men or women?"
"Either." Though he actually perferred men, he didn't want to disclose that here.
Mimette dug her heel into the mortal, who moaned under her. "Get up and feed him."
"Yes, mistress," the mortal said, pulling himself out from underneath her and then standing up. He tilted his head to the side, offering the pulsing vein.
Dimitri's fangs dropped instinctively and he took the young man in his arms. He was laced with compliance drugs, but Dimitri's blood was far more powerful and could easily offset them. He finished, hardly satiated, but it had taken the edge off. He would feed more later.
Mimette lifted her feet as the young man resumed his position. "How long will you be staying?"
"Until I speak to a man."
"Hard to find a mere mortal in the daytime."
"I know how."
Mimette shrugged. "Get one of the dogs to help you if you need it. They're always looking to prove themselves."
"I'll be fine. If you'll excuse me..."
She waved her hand away, and she watched him leave the nightclub. "Man of few words," she muttered, and kicked her doll.
Some cities, such as this one, would allow a vampire to wander its streets and take as needed, provided they were just passing through. Sometimes there was a time limit for a vampire to "pass through" a city.
Dimitri had overstayed.
He hadn't realized it until one night, when three Gangrel appeared out of the shadows in Kings Row. Dimiri had seen them before they walked out; they were young vampires and easily noted. He had no idea why the Gangrel appeared, only that they were in front of him, looking threatening.
"Prince Lafayette says you're not allowed here," growled one.
"Is there a Blood Hunt out on me?" He'd outrun those before. This would be no different, except he still had things to do here. He could wait centuries to come back, but how long would that Greek be alive?
"Not really," said another. "Your reputation preceeds you."
"Prince Lafayette thinks it's just an oversight on your part, Sherrif," continued the first. "You need to come with us."
Dimitri shrugged, and fell into step with them. They brought him to Founders Falls, to a nightclub that was lavish and absolutely full of blood dolls. As he expected, the Prince was set off to the side, holding court in a private room. Vampires waited in line to approach and kiss his ring, then present their petitions. Dimitri had been with his Prince in Phoenix long enough to know the rituals. He was patient when he needed to be.
Prince Lafayette turned jade eyes in Dimitri's direction. "Ah," he said, and inclined his head to Dimitri.
Dimitri walked forward and kissed the ring, then looked up at the Prince. Dimitiri was older than him, but, then Paragon was full of young vampires. When he left Phoenix, he thought the prince was named Jolyn, but things changed quickly in Paragon. "Prince Lafayette."
"I understand you're visiting our fair city."
"I didn't realize I had stayed so long without asking. Have there been any complaints?"
"No, no," said Lafayette with the patronizing tone of a new Prince. Dimitri kept his anger under control - he hated new Princes. "I merely wanted to know why you're here."
"I'm looking for a man."
"We have people for that."
"I would rather find him myself."
The Prince regarded him. "Ah, personal. You do have to ask permission to create childer." Again, that patronizing tone.
No shit, asshole. "That isn't the reason."
The Prince seemed to be waiting. Dimitri looked at him blankly. "Speak with Mimette over there to discuss your hunting grounds in the Row." The Prince gave him the smallest of shrugs in dismissal and motioned vaguely to the other side of the room.
Dimitri turned from him with military precision and looked at his Gangrel escort. "Who's Mimette?"
"Over there." He waved at the other side of the room like the Prince did.
"Where," Dimitri snarled. He was losing patience, and it was worse since he hadn't fed yet.
"I'll show you," said a red-haired young woman who took Dimitri's arm. She smelled mortal, and already had marks on her, so he couldn't feed from her. "Nobody here is helpful to new people," she said offhandedly.
"I've dealt with worse," he replied, letting her lead him through the kindred and kine to a dark-haired beauty dressed in black lace and gossamer, with a hunk of a mortal lying half-naked at her feet. She had her stilletto heels on his chest, and looked immensely bored.
"You are Mimette?" Dimitri asked.
"Yes," she said, looking up at him languidly. "You're the one's who's been eating all the Skulls."
"I am not damaging the Masquerade, am I?"
"No," she sighed. "The Circle of Thorns are mine. Everything else is up for grabs, within reason. You haven't fed yet."
"No, I haven't."
"Do you prefer men or women?"
"Either." Though he actually perferred men, he didn't want to disclose that here.
Mimette dug her heel into the mortal, who moaned under her. "Get up and feed him."
"Yes, mistress," the mortal said, pulling himself out from underneath her and then standing up. He tilted his head to the side, offering the pulsing vein.
Dimitri's fangs dropped instinctively and he took the young man in his arms. He was laced with compliance drugs, but Dimitri's blood was far more powerful and could easily offset them. He finished, hardly satiated, but it had taken the edge off. He would feed more later.
Mimette lifted her feet as the young man resumed his position. "How long will you be staying?"
"Until I speak to a man."
"Hard to find a mere mortal in the daytime."
"I know how."
Mimette shrugged. "Get one of the dogs to help you if you need it. They're always looking to prove themselves."
"I'll be fine. If you'll excuse me..."
She waved her hand away, and she watched him leave the nightclub. "Man of few words," she muttered, and kicked her doll.
Asteroth walked across the yacht to Asmodeus. Both men were handsome, older, who both looked like well-made stockbrokers out on a boat ride. Asteroth stood before his superior and bowed his head. Asmodeus looked out at the expanse of water, ignoring the approaching man. "My lord," Asteroth said.
"Your excellency," Asmodeus replied, still gazing out at the water. "Has your pride been healed?"
"Never, my lord," he growled.
"Good." A drink suddenly appeared in Asmodeus' hand, and he sipped it gingerly. "The Seraphim grows stronger every day. Grimaulkin grows more distant from us. He'll be one of them if he keeps on this path."
"Grimaulkin is ours, my lord."
"Yes, but at the moment untouchable, so long as that Seraphim guards him." Asmodeus finally turned to face Asteroth. "You have servants, do you not?"
"Of course, my lord."
"Good." He turned back to the water. "Send one to kill the Seraphim in its human shell. Make sure he has the proper weapons to also kill the angelic spirit that inhabits it. If he succeeds, he has my blessing."
"Yes, my lord."
"And then have him take Grimaulkin's soul and return it to us."
"His soul, when released, may not come to us --"
Asmodeus whirled on Asteroth, his eyes aflame. "Make sure it does."
Asteroth withered under Asmodeus' gaze. "Yes, my lord."
Asmodeus looked back out at the water. Asteroth bowed and went away. Asmodeus muttered, drinking, "'Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.'"
The rest of the demons called him Maitre de Lames, Blademaster. Lames had the usual demonic good looks, red skin and exposed veins, and bald from the fires. He normally reported to Rosier, but although there was a certain heirarchy, demons would exchange themselves with other devils, dukes, and masters. It was no surprise that Lames was summoned to Asteroth, and, although at first disoriented in the throne room of the castle, was able to focus on the naked man mounted on a dog with wings.
Asteroth wasted no time. "Have you ever been human?"
"Three times," Lames said.
"Address me properly."
"Three times, my lord," Lames stated.
"You will do some work for me. You will go to Paragon City, Rhode Island, United States, Earth, and you will kill a Seraphim that has taken human form there."
Lames raised an eyebrow. "Why would a Seraphim debase himself like that?"
"He was assigned to guard a mage, Grimaulkin, who had pledged his soul to us and is now reneging on his promise. You are allowed the proper weapons."
Lames grinned, which did not look pleasant. These would be swords that the demons had not been allowed to touch, in fear of rising up against their masters. These were blades that would kill an angel, blades they had used in the First War.
Asteroth waved his hand, and two black swords stuck in the floor appeared before them. One was shorter than the other, as was proper for fencing. Both were black blades and oozed evil. "Take them and kill the Seraphim. They can, of course, kill humans just as easily."
Still grinning, Lames picked up the swords and felt the evil travel down his arm and fill him with pure glee. "Yes, my lord," he said, saluted Asteroth with the blades. Asteroth banished him to Earth.
Lames looked down at his human form, a copy of what he had been once in 17th century France as a musketeer, even down to his boots. He sighed, "Couldn't be original, could you?" He saw before him a large building, and humans thronged all around him. And he had to find a Seraphim in this mess of humanity...
"Your excellency," Asmodeus replied, still gazing out at the water. "Has your pride been healed?"
"Never, my lord," he growled.
"Good." A drink suddenly appeared in Asmodeus' hand, and he sipped it gingerly. "The Seraphim grows stronger every day. Grimaulkin grows more distant from us. He'll be one of them if he keeps on this path."
"Grimaulkin is ours, my lord."
"Yes, but at the moment untouchable, so long as that Seraphim guards him." Asmodeus finally turned to face Asteroth. "You have servants, do you not?"
"Of course, my lord."
"Good." He turned back to the water. "Send one to kill the Seraphim in its human shell. Make sure he has the proper weapons to also kill the angelic spirit that inhabits it. If he succeeds, he has my blessing."
"Yes, my lord."
"And then have him take Grimaulkin's soul and return it to us."
"His soul, when released, may not come to us --"
Asmodeus whirled on Asteroth, his eyes aflame. "Make sure it does."
Asteroth withered under Asmodeus' gaze. "Yes, my lord."
Asmodeus looked back out at the water. Asteroth bowed and went away. Asmodeus muttered, drinking, "'Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.'"
The rest of the demons called him Maitre de Lames, Blademaster. Lames had the usual demonic good looks, red skin and exposed veins, and bald from the fires. He normally reported to Rosier, but although there was a certain heirarchy, demons would exchange themselves with other devils, dukes, and masters. It was no surprise that Lames was summoned to Asteroth, and, although at first disoriented in the throne room of the castle, was able to focus on the naked man mounted on a dog with wings.
Asteroth wasted no time. "Have you ever been human?"
"Three times," Lames said.
"Address me properly."
"Three times, my lord," Lames stated.
"You will do some work for me. You will go to Paragon City, Rhode Island, United States, Earth, and you will kill a Seraphim that has taken human form there."
Lames raised an eyebrow. "Why would a Seraphim debase himself like that?"
"He was assigned to guard a mage, Grimaulkin, who had pledged his soul to us and is now reneging on his promise. You are allowed the proper weapons."
Lames grinned, which did not look pleasant. These would be swords that the demons had not been allowed to touch, in fear of rising up against their masters. These were blades that would kill an angel, blades they had used in the First War.
Asteroth waved his hand, and two black swords stuck in the floor appeared before them. One was shorter than the other, as was proper for fencing. Both were black blades and oozed evil. "Take them and kill the Seraphim. They can, of course, kill humans just as easily."
Still grinning, Lames picked up the swords and felt the evil travel down his arm and fill him with pure glee. "Yes, my lord," he said, saluted Asteroth with the blades. Asteroth banished him to Earth.
Lames looked down at his human form, a copy of what he had been once in 17th century France as a musketeer, even down to his boots. He sighed, "Couldn't be original, could you?" He saw before him a large building, and humans thronged all around him. And he had to find a Seraphim in this mess of humanity...
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Eule came down the hall to see Stefan and Grim sitting at the table in the Grotto. Grim turned in Eule's direction and squinted, then relaxed, looking at him. "Who's there?"
"Eule," he said, coming closer.
Grim began, "The owl is wary, the owl is wise.
He knows all the names of the stars in the skies.
He hoots and he toots and he lives by his wits,
but mostly he sits. . . and he sits. . . and he sits."
Eule said nothing, but smiled and blushed. Stefan smiled at Grim as well.
"So is that what you do? You watch?"
"I look in other people's minds. If their minds are weak enough, I can hurt them."
"Kind of like Jack?"
"MindStryker? I don't have telekinetic ability."
"Hm, yeah, I wasn't looking for that when I hired you, I just needed a telepath."
He nodded, then realized Grim couldn't see that. "Yes."
"Sorry about Raina last night," Grim said, and moved his hand slowly across the table. Stefan leaned over and pressed the can of Coke into Grim's hand. "Thanks, love."
"Anytime," Stefan said with a smile. Eule watched the two of them. They looked so in love with each other, he wondered whether anything like that could happen to him.
Eule said, "I...um, I might be joining you in the training class."
"Oh really? They didn't teach you close quarter combat in Hero Corps?"
"That's not what they're there for," Eule said, and took a seat at the table across from Stefan. "We're hired out as needed. They taught me basic stuff on how to control my powers, but I never got formal training like I might at say GIFT."
"Maybe you can talk to Jack."
He shrugged. "He already has a student." He looked around. "I really don't know what's going on around here, like who's paired with who and personal stuff like that. Timetripper doesn't put that kind of thing in her reports."
"What do you want to know?"
"Why does Raina hate Hero Corps so much? Why do you hate LeBeau? Where did Rusty go? How come I when I mistakenly touched Adam's mind I didn't get anything?"
"Whoa, whoa...too many questions. I'd be here all day."
"I could go into your mind and look." It was an automatic statement, and he expected the normal reaction between "No" and "Hell no."
Grim looked at him. "Yeah, you could." He nodded, and put the can of Coke down. "Go ahead."
Eule blinked. "Really?"
"Really." Grim smiled. "I trust you."
Stefan smiled also, and sat back in his chair, his wings spread out behind him.
"Okay." Eule concentrated, and gently slipped into Grim's mind. He sensed initial resistance that fell away, and all of Grim's knowledge of Havens and their relationships came to the fore. Clearest was his relationship with Stefan, full of love. Stefan, he noted with a shock, was a real angel and Grim's guardian.
He sensed Grim's hatred for LeBeau, even after LeBeau was kind and helpful to him. He noted Grim was hiding something. Eule didn't press it.
Grim's relationship with Kalius was also clear, tinged with caring, compassion, and worry. Kalius was a rough warrior, first existing on hope, now anger and fury fueling his existence. Grim had wanted to help Kalius with his anger by siphoning it off physically and enviornmentally, but Kalius was bottomless. Eule also got the explanation from Grim about how Kalius/Kevin existed, and what they had done over Christmas, how and why Grim had chosen Stefan over Kalius. Then he got the image of the two of them in bed together, and he backed off immediately.
"I get the hint," Eule said, and eased out of Grim's mind.
"You wanted to know," Grim said with a leer. He looked up. "Who's there?"
They all turned around to where Grim was looking, but saw no one there. Stefan said, "Adam."
Adam faded into sight. "You could see me?"
"No," Stefan said. "He could. We couldn't."
"Oh."
"Here for training?" Eule asked.
"Yeah," Adam said wearily. "He knows what he's doing, but he's tough."
"Got that right," Grim said.
"Who is?" Kalius came up the stairs and studied the group. Eule watched Kalius bristle at Stefan. Eule could have easily gone into his mind to try and ease it, now that he knew why Kal was furious at Stefan. Eule was slightly angry at Grim as well, for treating Kalius like he did. Kalius wanted a lover for his own, and Grim was too free-wheeling to do that. Kalius - Kevin - could settle down, why couldn't Grim?
Kalius meanwhile, regarded Grim. "You think being blind will get you out of training?"
"Kal, you're kidding, right?"
"I would have blindfolded you eventually," he said. "Consider this a warm-up." Kalius looked at Adam. "Meet you in the training room."
"Wait," said Eule. "I'm coming too."
Kalius assessed Eule. "You'd better not be wearing those jeans, they'll rip."
"Oh, right."
"I can give you a pair of shorts," Stefan said, getting up. "I'm not using them anymore anyway." He patted Grim's hand. "Be right back."
Kalius had his back turned to Stefan and didn't see the action. Eule did, and suddenly felt the pain that Kalius must have been feeling if he saw that. He watched Stefan walk away.
"Well, c'mon then," Kalius said, and picked up his gym bag to go to the training room.
Adam looked at Grim as he got up. "Need help?"
"Yeah, I think so."
Adam put his hand on Grim's shoulder and guided him toward the training room. Kalius put Grim directly in front of the punching bag and told him to hit it until he told him to stop. Meanwhile, he started showing Eule some basic moves while Adam did some stretching exercises. Stefan arrived with the shorts, and Eule ducked into the closet to change. Stefan left the room, probably not wanting to cause any trouble.
Kalius kept moving Grim around the punching bag, so he would come at it from different angles. Grim would miss the first few times, but eventually would connect once he was able to sense where it was. As Kalius trained the other two men in movements and avoidance, he would stop for a minute and move Grim or make the bag swing back and forth. Grim got knocked over once by the bag's swinging, and Kalius bent to help him up. Eule saw Kalius' compassion again, like he had seen with Raina, and his heart swelled.
Finally, after two hours of intense training, the three men were ready to collapse. Kalius hadn't even broken a sweat, even though he had been as intense as they were. That image of Grim and Kalius in bed together...he shoved it away. He really wished Grim hadn't shown him that.
"Hit the showers," Kalius said, turning to his gym bag. The men stumbled out, Grim holding onto Adam's shoulder as he guided him forward. Eule turned back to look at Kalius, who had turned his attention to the punching bag. He watched as he punched it hard a few times, then punched it once really hard, making a hole in it and pouring sand all over the floor. Kalius glared at the sand. Eule looked at him sadly, then walked away to the showers.
"Eule," he said, coming closer.
Grim began, "The owl is wary, the owl is wise.
He knows all the names of the stars in the skies.
He hoots and he toots and he lives by his wits,
but mostly he sits. . . and he sits. . . and he sits."
Eule said nothing, but smiled and blushed. Stefan smiled at Grim as well.
"So is that what you do? You watch?"
"I look in other people's minds. If their minds are weak enough, I can hurt them."
"Kind of like Jack?"
"MindStryker? I don't have telekinetic ability."
"Hm, yeah, I wasn't looking for that when I hired you, I just needed a telepath."
He nodded, then realized Grim couldn't see that. "Yes."
"Sorry about Raina last night," Grim said, and moved his hand slowly across the table. Stefan leaned over and pressed the can of Coke into Grim's hand. "Thanks, love."
"Anytime," Stefan said with a smile. Eule watched the two of them. They looked so in love with each other, he wondered whether anything like that could happen to him.
Eule said, "I...um, I might be joining you in the training class."
"Oh really? They didn't teach you close quarter combat in Hero Corps?"
"That's not what they're there for," Eule said, and took a seat at the table across from Stefan. "We're hired out as needed. They taught me basic stuff on how to control my powers, but I never got formal training like I might at say GIFT."
"Maybe you can talk to Jack."
He shrugged. "He already has a student." He looked around. "I really don't know what's going on around here, like who's paired with who and personal stuff like that. Timetripper doesn't put that kind of thing in her reports."
"What do you want to know?"
"Why does Raina hate Hero Corps so much? Why do you hate LeBeau? Where did Rusty go? How come I when I mistakenly touched Adam's mind I didn't get anything?"
"Whoa, whoa...too many questions. I'd be here all day."
"I could go into your mind and look." It was an automatic statement, and he expected the normal reaction between "No" and "Hell no."
Grim looked at him. "Yeah, you could." He nodded, and put the can of Coke down. "Go ahead."
Eule blinked. "Really?"
"Really." Grim smiled. "I trust you."
Stefan smiled also, and sat back in his chair, his wings spread out behind him.
"Okay." Eule concentrated, and gently slipped into Grim's mind. He sensed initial resistance that fell away, and all of Grim's knowledge of Havens and their relationships came to the fore. Clearest was his relationship with Stefan, full of love. Stefan, he noted with a shock, was a real angel and Grim's guardian.
He sensed Grim's hatred for LeBeau, even after LeBeau was kind and helpful to him. He noted Grim was hiding something. Eule didn't press it.
Grim's relationship with Kalius was also clear, tinged with caring, compassion, and worry. Kalius was a rough warrior, first existing on hope, now anger and fury fueling his existence. Grim had wanted to help Kalius with his anger by siphoning it off physically and enviornmentally, but Kalius was bottomless. Eule also got the explanation from Grim about how Kalius/Kevin existed, and what they had done over Christmas, how and why Grim had chosen Stefan over Kalius. Then he got the image of the two of them in bed together, and he backed off immediately.
"I get the hint," Eule said, and eased out of Grim's mind.
"You wanted to know," Grim said with a leer. He looked up. "Who's there?"
They all turned around to where Grim was looking, but saw no one there. Stefan said, "Adam."
Adam faded into sight. "You could see me?"
"No," Stefan said. "He could. We couldn't."
"Oh."
"Here for training?" Eule asked.
"Yeah," Adam said wearily. "He knows what he's doing, but he's tough."
"Got that right," Grim said.
"Who is?" Kalius came up the stairs and studied the group. Eule watched Kalius bristle at Stefan. Eule could have easily gone into his mind to try and ease it, now that he knew why Kal was furious at Stefan. Eule was slightly angry at Grim as well, for treating Kalius like he did. Kalius wanted a lover for his own, and Grim was too free-wheeling to do that. Kalius - Kevin - could settle down, why couldn't Grim?
Kalius meanwhile, regarded Grim. "You think being blind will get you out of training?"
"Kal, you're kidding, right?"
"I would have blindfolded you eventually," he said. "Consider this a warm-up." Kalius looked at Adam. "Meet you in the training room."
"Wait," said Eule. "I'm coming too."
Kalius assessed Eule. "You'd better not be wearing those jeans, they'll rip."
"Oh, right."
"I can give you a pair of shorts," Stefan said, getting up. "I'm not using them anymore anyway." He patted Grim's hand. "Be right back."
Kalius had his back turned to Stefan and didn't see the action. Eule did, and suddenly felt the pain that Kalius must have been feeling if he saw that. He watched Stefan walk away.
"Well, c'mon then," Kalius said, and picked up his gym bag to go to the training room.
Adam looked at Grim as he got up. "Need help?"
"Yeah, I think so."
Adam put his hand on Grim's shoulder and guided him toward the training room. Kalius put Grim directly in front of the punching bag and told him to hit it until he told him to stop. Meanwhile, he started showing Eule some basic moves while Adam did some stretching exercises. Stefan arrived with the shorts, and Eule ducked into the closet to change. Stefan left the room, probably not wanting to cause any trouble.
Kalius kept moving Grim around the punching bag, so he would come at it from different angles. Grim would miss the first few times, but eventually would connect once he was able to sense where it was. As Kalius trained the other two men in movements and avoidance, he would stop for a minute and move Grim or make the bag swing back and forth. Grim got knocked over once by the bag's swinging, and Kalius bent to help him up. Eule saw Kalius' compassion again, like he had seen with Raina, and his heart swelled.
Finally, after two hours of intense training, the three men were ready to collapse. Kalius hadn't even broken a sweat, even though he had been as intense as they were. That image of Grim and Kalius in bed together...he shoved it away. He really wished Grim hadn't shown him that.
"Hit the showers," Kalius said, turning to his gym bag. The men stumbled out, Grim holding onto Adam's shoulder as he guided him forward. Eule turned back to look at Kalius, who had turned his attention to the punching bag. He watched as he punched it hard a few times, then punched it once really hard, making a hole in it and pouring sand all over the floor. Kalius glared at the sand. Eule looked at him sadly, then walked away to the showers.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Degenerate watched the Fortunata come into his office. She wore the helmet that would protect her from telepathic influences - most of the time. However, this one man was allowed entry.
"I was concerned about you, Ariane."
You disgust me.
She grunted as he forced his way into her mind. Is that any way to treat me?
"No," she said, though her thoughts were very different.
Take off your helmet.
She struggled, as she always did, but he easily overpowered it and forced her hands to remove the helmet. Her blond hair was cut short in the normal Fortunata manner. She gave him an angry look.
You love me. You adore me.
Her gaze softened, and she smiled at him, a sexy, seductive smile. "Hi, stud."
He smiled. "Much better. Come over here."
When he finished, he gazed at her naked body in the dimming light of the setting sun. She smiled up at him adoringly. Ever since he had charmed his way into her mind, he knew exactly what to do to get her to do anything he wanted, and because of his assistance she was able to attain Fortunata status. Still, she never understood that, and he often had to force his way with her. Arachnos could attempt to brainwash her, but he could control her.
"So, did you find out about the man I told you about?"
"Yes," she purred, and lazily caressed his chest as she spoke. "According to Vanguard, Jack Whitney was a member of the Phalanx of Paragon City, but now he's a member of a group called Safe Havens. They operate out of Kings Row in Paragon City. There's about ten members according to our records."
"I might need their names later. Know anything about his powers?"
"Level 4 psionic. Telepath, telekinesis."
Dammit, so was he, at least that's the amount of power dampening they did to him in the Zig.
"He can put people to sleep, make them immobile, disturb them. Nothing about mind control like you." She gazed up at him. "Oh, and he was given Vanguard weapons, which he favors."
"Ack, guns. I hate guns."
"He also has a telepathic connection, according to the Phalanx files."
"Oh?"
"Yes it was --" she froze.
He got tired of talking, and instead invaded her mind and pulled out the information he needed. While he was there, he got the information about the traitors to the Phalanx and the subsequent joining with Safe Havens. He nodded and yanked out none too gently, leaving her panting for breath at the pain.
Rising from the couch, he reached for his clothes. "I have a performance tonight," he said. "You are welcome to join me."
I would never -- She froze again as he grabbed hold of her mind. "Sure, stud."
"I was concerned about you, Ariane."
You disgust me.
She grunted as he forced his way into her mind. Is that any way to treat me?
"No," she said, though her thoughts were very different.
Take off your helmet.
She struggled, as she always did, but he easily overpowered it and forced her hands to remove the helmet. Her blond hair was cut short in the normal Fortunata manner. She gave him an angry look.
You love me. You adore me.
Her gaze softened, and she smiled at him, a sexy, seductive smile. "Hi, stud."
He smiled. "Much better. Come over here."
When he finished, he gazed at her naked body in the dimming light of the setting sun. She smiled up at him adoringly. Ever since he had charmed his way into her mind, he knew exactly what to do to get her to do anything he wanted, and because of his assistance she was able to attain Fortunata status. Still, she never understood that, and he often had to force his way with her. Arachnos could attempt to brainwash her, but he could control her.
"So, did you find out about the man I told you about?"
"Yes," she purred, and lazily caressed his chest as she spoke. "According to Vanguard, Jack Whitney was a member of the Phalanx of Paragon City, but now he's a member of a group called Safe Havens. They operate out of Kings Row in Paragon City. There's about ten members according to our records."
"I might need their names later. Know anything about his powers?"
"Level 4 psionic. Telepath, telekinesis."
Dammit, so was he, at least that's the amount of power dampening they did to him in the Zig.
"He can put people to sleep, make them immobile, disturb them. Nothing about mind control like you." She gazed up at him. "Oh, and he was given Vanguard weapons, which he favors."
"Ack, guns. I hate guns."
"He also has a telepathic connection, according to the Phalanx files."
"Oh?"
"Yes it was --" she froze.
He got tired of talking, and instead invaded her mind and pulled out the information he needed. While he was there, he got the information about the traitors to the Phalanx and the subsequent joining with Safe Havens. He nodded and yanked out none too gently, leaving her panting for breath at the pain.
Rising from the couch, he reached for his clothes. "I have a performance tonight," he said. "You are welcome to join me."
I would never -- She froze again as he grabbed hold of her mind. "Sure, stud."
Characters: Konsp1r4cy Th30ry (KT), Symlin (Sym), Whiteberry (Berry)
KT touched the hilts of his knives, as if looking for reassurance. Sym sat leisurely in the train’s seat, her feet stretched out before her. The train slowed as it approached the station in Kings Row. KT warily watched the doors open, and then turned suddenly with a blade in his hand, facing Berry.
“Nice to see you too,” Berry said, and backed away from the blade as the doors hissed shut. He took a seat across the aisle from Sym, out of KT's arm’s reach, but not out of the range of his guns if he chose to use them. “So, what’s up?”
“We have an assignment from Impetus,” Symlin said.
“Pretty high up,” Berry retorted, pulling out one of his phones. “Who’s this ‘Volt’ guy?”
“Outcast. He has something we’ve been looking for.”
“A PLOT device?"
KT said, slightly worried, "Do you have any idea what that even means?”
Sym sighed. “It’s language theory, KT.”
“Oh.” He went back to looking out the window.
“So sayeth Google,” said Berry, settling back in his seat. “Steel Canyon?”
Sym nodded, and Berry turned to his phone. Sym was lost in the web, and KT contemplated how long it would take someone to pull up the seats to use them as a weapon. The train deposited them at Steel Canyon, and the three took different directions to get to the door of their assignment. It was an abandoned office, one of many in the Canyon.
Berry scanned the foyer, and declared it clear, so the group entered. KT had his gun already drawn, and jumped into the room ready to spray it with lead. Berry kept looking through the cameras in the office, flipping through them and assessing the situation. "Six of them in the room beyond...eight in the corridor..." Sym searched for computers, but didn't see that they were using them. They also weren't using any kind of technological device, as most of their powers were innate and mutations. All she could do was shock them. KT opened up on them happily.
They quickly retrieved the PLOT device - a black box - and Sym announced, "Impetus wants us. He'll meet us in Atlas Park."
Berry said, "I swear I didn't see the porn from his phone..."
Sym gave Berry a glare, and KT laughed. The three went to Atlas Park, and followed Sym into a theater. She walked by the unmanned ticket counter, beyond the foyer and into the theater itself. She took a seat in the back and the two men flanked her. The lights didn't dim, and they were the only ones in the theater.
"Well, this is pretty inconspicuous," KT muttered.
Someone came into the theater, a man dressed in a plain dark suit wearing sunglasses. He looked unpresuming, delicate even. However, he had the strength to throw a car across Prometheus Lake, had better sight and hearing than a cat, and the telepathic ability to tear apart people's minds. Most of it was augmentation, some of it was magic, some was devices.
"Good to see you all," he said. "Next time, we'll meet in a sewer, if that will please you, KT?"
KT looked away, muttering again. The man stood before them, and held out his hand. A life-sized hologram stood before them, a blond man in a black trench coat. "You've met Grimaulkin, Symlin?"
"Berry and I contacted him," she said. "He said he would contact us."
The hologram disappeared. "And we cannot push him. Maybe we should contact him again, to remind him of our existence?"
Berry nodded. "Done."
"Symlin, you will be our primary contact with him. Meet with him and work with him - he is a mage and although he may not trust us, he's curious above all."
"Yes, Impetus," Sym said.
"In the meantime, are there any questions?"
"Is this man our primary target?" asked KT.
"At some point, I should like to establish a partnership with the Safe Havens group, but other technomancers have already infiltrated it. Even now, they are working to fill their ranks among those in that group."
"More cyborgs," KT muttered darkly.
Impetus raised an eyebrow. "They are technomancers of a different sort, KT, that is all."
"Yeah," said Berry, "like you should talk, Scissorhands."
KT glared at Berry and flushed red at the same time. Although Mechanae had saved his hands and given him new metal ones with more strength than a human's, he was very self-conscious about it and constantly wore gloves to cover them.
Impetus continued, "Unfortunately, they are secretive and tradition-bound, yet are a dying race because of it. We have nothing against them, they only wish to survive. The Safe Havens may have made their decision about all technomancers because of their actions - Grimaulkin certainly has, since he doesn't trust us, even though we are not like them." He started to the door. "We should not approach them until after the dust settles."
Symlin asked, "What do you mean?"
"ORACLE saw something, though they won't tell me what." He turned back to them. "You have your orders."
"Yes, sir," they all said, and got up from the chairs. Impetus stepped through the door outside and disappeared from their sight.
KT touched the hilts of his knives, as if looking for reassurance. Sym sat leisurely in the train’s seat, her feet stretched out before her. The train slowed as it approached the station in Kings Row. KT warily watched the doors open, and then turned suddenly with a blade in his hand, facing Berry.
“Nice to see you too,” Berry said, and backed away from the blade as the doors hissed shut. He took a seat across the aisle from Sym, out of KT's arm’s reach, but not out of the range of his guns if he chose to use them. “So, what’s up?”
“We have an assignment from Impetus,” Symlin said.
“Pretty high up,” Berry retorted, pulling out one of his phones. “Who’s this ‘Volt’ guy?”
“Outcast. He has something we’ve been looking for.”
“A PLOT device?"
KT said, slightly worried, "Do you have any idea what that even means?”
Sym sighed. “It’s language theory, KT.”
“Oh.” He went back to looking out the window.
“So sayeth Google,” said Berry, settling back in his seat. “Steel Canyon?”
Sym nodded, and Berry turned to his phone. Sym was lost in the web, and KT contemplated how long it would take someone to pull up the seats to use them as a weapon. The train deposited them at Steel Canyon, and the three took different directions to get to the door of their assignment. It was an abandoned office, one of many in the Canyon.
Berry scanned the foyer, and declared it clear, so the group entered. KT had his gun already drawn, and jumped into the room ready to spray it with lead. Berry kept looking through the cameras in the office, flipping through them and assessing the situation. "Six of them in the room beyond...eight in the corridor..." Sym searched for computers, but didn't see that they were using them. They also weren't using any kind of technological device, as most of their powers were innate and mutations. All she could do was shock them. KT opened up on them happily.
They quickly retrieved the PLOT device - a black box - and Sym announced, "Impetus wants us. He'll meet us in Atlas Park."
Berry said, "I swear I didn't see the porn from his phone..."
Sym gave Berry a glare, and KT laughed. The three went to Atlas Park, and followed Sym into a theater. She walked by the unmanned ticket counter, beyond the foyer and into the theater itself. She took a seat in the back and the two men flanked her. The lights didn't dim, and they were the only ones in the theater.
"Well, this is pretty inconspicuous," KT muttered.
Someone came into the theater, a man dressed in a plain dark suit wearing sunglasses. He looked unpresuming, delicate even. However, he had the strength to throw a car across Prometheus Lake, had better sight and hearing than a cat, and the telepathic ability to tear apart people's minds. Most of it was augmentation, some of it was magic, some was devices.
"Good to see you all," he said. "Next time, we'll meet in a sewer, if that will please you, KT?"
KT looked away, muttering again. The man stood before them, and held out his hand. A life-sized hologram stood before them, a blond man in a black trench coat. "You've met Grimaulkin, Symlin?"
"Berry and I contacted him," she said. "He said he would contact us."
The hologram disappeared. "And we cannot push him. Maybe we should contact him again, to remind him of our existence?"
Berry nodded. "Done."
"Symlin, you will be our primary contact with him. Meet with him and work with him - he is a mage and although he may not trust us, he's curious above all."
"Yes, Impetus," Sym said.
"In the meantime, are there any questions?"
"Is this man our primary target?" asked KT.
"At some point, I should like to establish a partnership with the Safe Havens group, but other technomancers have already infiltrated it. Even now, they are working to fill their ranks among those in that group."
"More cyborgs," KT muttered darkly.
Impetus raised an eyebrow. "They are technomancers of a different sort, KT, that is all."
"Yeah," said Berry, "like you should talk, Scissorhands."
KT glared at Berry and flushed red at the same time. Although Mechanae had saved his hands and given him new metal ones with more strength than a human's, he was very self-conscious about it and constantly wore gloves to cover them.
Impetus continued, "Unfortunately, they are secretive and tradition-bound, yet are a dying race because of it. We have nothing against them, they only wish to survive. The Safe Havens may have made their decision about all technomancers because of their actions - Grimaulkin certainly has, since he doesn't trust us, even though we are not like them." He started to the door. "We should not approach them until after the dust settles."
Symlin asked, "What do you mean?"
"ORACLE saw something, though they won't tell me what." He turned back to them. "You have your orders."
"Yes, sir," they all said, and got up from the chairs. Impetus stepped through the door outside and disappeared from their sight.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
For once, Grim's hair was down. He had combed it back, so that it made him look a little more normal. He looked in the mirror of the base's bathroom, then came out of it and went back to his room. Stefan sat up in bed, watching him.
Grim turned to him. Grim hadn't mentioned why he got up so early, or what made him get dressed up. Finally, he said, "I have a funeral to go to."
Stefan nodded, knowing that if Grim wanted him to go, he would have asked.
"I need to do this by myself."
"All right," Stefan said, shoved the covers off, and stood up. He and Grim could sense each other's emotions, and Stefan sent love and compassion to Grim, who returned it as well. He hugged Grim, and Grim rested his forehead on Stefan's shoulder.
"I should be back soon."
"Be safe," Stefan said, and kissed him gently.
Grim left the room, and headed downstairs. He didn't smell the tell-tale signs of coffee being brewed, because Jack was in the Isles. No one else was awake at this hour.
The funeral home was in Founders', so he flew most of the way there, landing about a block away from it. He walked along the streets, avoiding Crey, and walked into the small building. The parking lot was near empty, which surprised him. He remembered his father being a popular man in his sales firm - maybe most of the people he knew were in Florida now.
He went inside, and an undertaker held the door open for him. "Good morning, sir, are you here for Mr. LeBonte?"
"Yes," Grim said, and followed the direction the man pointed. He went to the last door on the left and stood in the doorway. He glanced at the room inside - about a dozen people sat in the room. Against the wall, the condolence line consisted of his sister and her husband and her sons and daughter - boy, they got big since he had last seen them.
Grim walked over to the casket. Although a bier was there, he didn't kneel. He made a motion drawing a rune to see if the man's soul was there. It wasn't even in the room. He raised his head and looked at the few bunches of flowers that adorned the casket. Then, he took a deep breath and turned slowly to face his sister, who had gotten up and stood looking at him curiously.
He walked the few steps to her, feeling like he was crossing a great divide. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her - she looked so beaten, so tired. Even though all he did was pay for his father's comfort, it seemed to have done nothing to ease his sister.
She held out her hand. "Hello, Marie," Grim said, taking her hand. "Don't remember me, do you?"
Marie peered at him. "Mikey?"
He nodded and smiled slightly. "Yeah."
She hadn't let go of his hand, in fact, didn't even squeeze it, she was frozen in shock. Grim squeezed her hand, to try and get her to respond. Her husband - John? Joe? he'd forgotten - moved to stand closer to her. "Marie?" he asked.
"They said..." Marie choked out, "They said...you were dead."
"I know," Grim said. "The Circle took me."
"The Circle?"
"Circle of Thorns. A magical cult." He finally released her, but her eyes were still wide.
Her husband guided Marie down to the chair, and looked up at Grim. "Look, I don't know who you are, but whatever you did, you just added to her misery."
"I remember you when you were courting her," Grim said to him. "You took me and Louie out to a baseball game with her once."
"Louie," Marie whispered.
"Dead," Grim said, and looked down at her.
"Mikey?" asked the man.
"Yes."
Now the man rose up, and attempted to intimidate Grim. "I think we need to talk."
"John," Marie put a hand on her husband's forearm and looked up at him, "not now."
Grim stood him down. "I paid for the nursing home and the care. I shouldn't have even done that."
"He was your father," John snarled.
"In name."
Marie looked at him. "How can you say that, Mikey? He gave everything for us."
"Oh? And three months after mom died he was already dating another woman? Who didn't care about us and left us to fend for ourselves? Don't think I forgot that, Marie."
"When he heard you died, he was devestated."
Grim rocked back on his heels, looking down at his sister.
"Gwen tried to help, but she couldn't and she left. He was alone, but then..." She looked up at him. "Then he fell back into his old ways."
Which meant womanizing and drinking, playing poker until the wee hours of the morning. Grim wondered how many girlfriends he had gone through before getting to the nursing home. How much liquor. How much money.
"God helps fools and children," Grim said quietly. "I'm surprised he lived as long as he did."
John got up and into Grim's face. Grim's expression turned cold.
"Not my fault we weren't from the perfect Norman Rockwell home like you, John," Grim said, boring into John's eyes. John did not back down, in fact, kept eye contact as he moved back slightly. "Want to talk? Let's step outside."
"Let's," John said, and grabbed his coat.
"Dad," said Junior.
"We're going to talk," John said, and glared at Grim. "Right?"
"Sure," Grim said, and glanced down at Marie. He almost asked her how many pieces she wanted to have John returned as. "The service is in half an hour. We have at least that long."
The two men slowly walked out of the funeral parlor. John whirled around, and Grim backed up, assuming a battle stance and pulling up a shield. John stared at him. "What the--"
"Protective instincts," he said, and straightened, though he didn't take down the shield.
"You've got some nerve," John said, looking at Grim but watching the shield flow around him. "What did you expect to do? Have her welcome you with open arms?"
"I didn't come here for her," Grim said. "I came here to make see if he needed assistance to the afterlife."
John stared at him. "What?"
"I'm a psychopomp. I'll bet you don't even know what that means." He put his hands in his pockets. "It means a guider of souls. He may have been a prick, but it's my job to make sure he would have headed off to whatever afterlife he was meant to go to." He looked back at the door. "Unfortunately, someone beat me to it."
"Who?" He looked a little worried.
"My mother," he said. "Don't worry, he's not in hell, but he's certainly not in heaven." Grim brought the shield down and looked at John. "Tell Marie goodbye for me. She doesn't have to see me if she doesn't want to." He started to walk away.
John called after him, "Are you an angel?"
Grim turned around and smiled. "In training."
Grim turned to him. Grim hadn't mentioned why he got up so early, or what made him get dressed up. Finally, he said, "I have a funeral to go to."
Stefan nodded, knowing that if Grim wanted him to go, he would have asked.
"I need to do this by myself."
"All right," Stefan said, shoved the covers off, and stood up. He and Grim could sense each other's emotions, and Stefan sent love and compassion to Grim, who returned it as well. He hugged Grim, and Grim rested his forehead on Stefan's shoulder.
"I should be back soon."
"Be safe," Stefan said, and kissed him gently.
Grim left the room, and headed downstairs. He didn't smell the tell-tale signs of coffee being brewed, because Jack was in the Isles. No one else was awake at this hour.
The funeral home was in Founders', so he flew most of the way there, landing about a block away from it. He walked along the streets, avoiding Crey, and walked into the small building. The parking lot was near empty, which surprised him. He remembered his father being a popular man in his sales firm - maybe most of the people he knew were in Florida now.
He went inside, and an undertaker held the door open for him. "Good morning, sir, are you here for Mr. LeBonte?"
"Yes," Grim said, and followed the direction the man pointed. He went to the last door on the left and stood in the doorway. He glanced at the room inside - about a dozen people sat in the room. Against the wall, the condolence line consisted of his sister and her husband and her sons and daughter - boy, they got big since he had last seen them.
Grim walked over to the casket. Although a bier was there, he didn't kneel. He made a motion drawing a rune to see if the man's soul was there. It wasn't even in the room. He raised his head and looked at the few bunches of flowers that adorned the casket. Then, he took a deep breath and turned slowly to face his sister, who had gotten up and stood looking at him curiously.
He walked the few steps to her, feeling like he was crossing a great divide. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her - she looked so beaten, so tired. Even though all he did was pay for his father's comfort, it seemed to have done nothing to ease his sister.
She held out her hand. "Hello, Marie," Grim said, taking her hand. "Don't remember me, do you?"
Marie peered at him. "Mikey?"
He nodded and smiled slightly. "Yeah."
She hadn't let go of his hand, in fact, didn't even squeeze it, she was frozen in shock. Grim squeezed her hand, to try and get her to respond. Her husband - John? Joe? he'd forgotten - moved to stand closer to her. "Marie?" he asked.
"They said..." Marie choked out, "They said...you were dead."
"I know," Grim said. "The Circle took me."
"The Circle?"
"Circle of Thorns. A magical cult." He finally released her, but her eyes were still wide.
Her husband guided Marie down to the chair, and looked up at Grim. "Look, I don't know who you are, but whatever you did, you just added to her misery."
"I remember you when you were courting her," Grim said to him. "You took me and Louie out to a baseball game with her once."
"Louie," Marie whispered.
"Dead," Grim said, and looked down at her.
"Mikey?" asked the man.
"Yes."
Now the man rose up, and attempted to intimidate Grim. "I think we need to talk."
"John," Marie put a hand on her husband's forearm and looked up at him, "not now."
Grim stood him down. "I paid for the nursing home and the care. I shouldn't have even done that."
"He was your father," John snarled.
"In name."
Marie looked at him. "How can you say that, Mikey? He gave everything for us."
"Oh? And three months after mom died he was already dating another woman? Who didn't care about us and left us to fend for ourselves? Don't think I forgot that, Marie."
"When he heard you died, he was devestated."
Grim rocked back on his heels, looking down at his sister.
"Gwen tried to help, but she couldn't and she left. He was alone, but then..." She looked up at him. "Then he fell back into his old ways."
Which meant womanizing and drinking, playing poker until the wee hours of the morning. Grim wondered how many girlfriends he had gone through before getting to the nursing home. How much liquor. How much money.
"God helps fools and children," Grim said quietly. "I'm surprised he lived as long as he did."
John got up and into Grim's face. Grim's expression turned cold.
"Not my fault we weren't from the perfect Norman Rockwell home like you, John," Grim said, boring into John's eyes. John did not back down, in fact, kept eye contact as he moved back slightly. "Want to talk? Let's step outside."
"Let's," John said, and grabbed his coat.
"Dad," said Junior.
"We're going to talk," John said, and glared at Grim. "Right?"
"Sure," Grim said, and glanced down at Marie. He almost asked her how many pieces she wanted to have John returned as. "The service is in half an hour. We have at least that long."
The two men slowly walked out of the funeral parlor. John whirled around, and Grim backed up, assuming a battle stance and pulling up a shield. John stared at him. "What the--"
"Protective instincts," he said, and straightened, though he didn't take down the shield.
"You've got some nerve," John said, looking at Grim but watching the shield flow around him. "What did you expect to do? Have her welcome you with open arms?"
"I didn't come here for her," Grim said. "I came here to make see if he needed assistance to the afterlife."
John stared at him. "What?"
"I'm a psychopomp. I'll bet you don't even know what that means." He put his hands in his pockets. "It means a guider of souls. He may have been a prick, but it's my job to make sure he would have headed off to whatever afterlife he was meant to go to." He looked back at the door. "Unfortunately, someone beat me to it."
"Who?" He looked a little worried.
"My mother," he said. "Don't worry, he's not in hell, but he's certainly not in heaven." Grim brought the shield down and looked at John. "Tell Marie goodbye for me. She doesn't have to see me if she doesn't want to." He started to walk away.
John called after him, "Are you an angel?"
Grim turned around and smiled. "In training."
Monday, January 18, 2010
::20100118 15:43::
4017863788: Hello?
4013559985: Alicia?
4017863788:Yes?
4013559985: It's Patty.
4017863788:Oh, hi. How did it go?
4013559985:They're not letting Rusty out.
4017863788:What?
4013559985:They wouldn't even let me talk to him.
4017863788:What? What do you mean?
4013559985:They said he's in protective custody.
4017863788:Protective...that's not right. They threatened us.
4013559985:They don't seem to see it that way. They did tell me the charges.
4017863788:What?
4013559985:Conspiracy to overthrow the state. Complicity in assisting Starkweather. He hasn't been indicted.
4017863788:But he didn't know Starkweather was a traitor.
4013559985:That'll come out in the grand jury. That's not set until next week.
4017863788:Isn't he free to go until then?
4013559985:Not these guys. Once you're in, you're in. Sorry, Alicia.
4017863788:You did tell them you're his lawyer.
4013559985:I did, and by law they have to tell him. It's up to him to decide whether he wants to retain me. I'll call you if he does.
4017863788:Okay, Patty. Thanks for your help.
4013559985:Anytime, hon. Bye.
4017863788:Bye.
::20100118 15:45::
4017863788: Hello?
4013559985: Alicia?
4017863788:Yes?
4013559985: It's Patty.
4017863788:Oh, hi. How did it go?
4013559985:They're not letting Rusty out.
4017863788:What?
4013559985:They wouldn't even let me talk to him.
4017863788:What? What do you mean?
4013559985:They said he's in protective custody.
4017863788:Protective...that's not right. They threatened us.
4013559985:They don't seem to see it that way. They did tell me the charges.
4017863788:What?
4013559985:Conspiracy to overthrow the state. Complicity in assisting Starkweather. He hasn't been indicted.
4017863788:But he didn't know Starkweather was a traitor.
4013559985:That'll come out in the grand jury. That's not set until next week.
4017863788:Isn't he free to go until then?
4013559985:Not these guys. Once you're in, you're in. Sorry, Alicia.
4017863788:You did tell them you're his lawyer.
4013559985:I did, and by law they have to tell him. It's up to him to decide whether he wants to retain me. I'll call you if he does.
4017863788:Okay, Patty. Thanks for your help.
4013559985:Anytime, hon. Bye.
4017863788:Bye.
::20100118 15:45::
Degenerate looked across his desk at the man seated before him. He looked every inch the stereotypical Wild West gunfighter, even down to the holsters at his hips with two revolvers stuck in them. He even took the nomenclature of a gunfighter, and called himself Bandit. Degenerate could easily go into his mind to find out his real name, but when he had skirted him once, he found that it was a confusing mess and jumble of everything from what he had for dinner three years ago to the best way to skin cats. It constantly shifted, and Degenerate could find no logic in it, so he left it alone.
However, the man could hold a basic conversation, which intrigued Degenerate like it did right now. Bandit wore a mask in his presence, which didn't bother Degenerate. Degenerate began, "My men have been telling me someone's been snooping around to try and find me."
"Yeah, I hear that. Some hero in the D."
"I know who he is." He passed over a sketch to Bandit. It was a sketch of Jack Whitney because Degenerate had passed his image on to an excellent sketch artist who then reproduced this. He passed another sketch to Bandit. "And he was with him."
"Seen him," he pointed to Jack. "Never seen him." He pointed to the red-haired English kid who was with him.
"Pass this out to your men. I want them to keep an eye out for them."
"And if they find them?"
"Do what you can to bring them to me. Try and keep them alive, I like to use them. This one uses mind control and telekinesis."
"People can't be normal," Bandit muttered, and took the two pictures. "What about this guy?"
"I have no idea. I don't know anything about him." Degenerate frowned to himself - when he attempted to get into that man's head, he couldn't latch onto anything, it was like he wasn't even there.
"Okay, we'll haunt the D."
"I'm working on getting more information about him right now." He wondered about his contact with Arachnos, whether or not she had been found out. She hadn't contacted him yet this week and he wondered. Not worried.
Bandit got up. "Do you care what condition he's in when we bring him to you?"
"He's a mutant, and I want his powers dampened. You have ways of doing that, don't you?"
"Sure we do," he said with a smile. "It'll cost you more."
Degenerate pulled out an envelope and slid it across the desk. "Will that do?"
Bandit picked it up and quickly skimmed the money in the envelope. He nodded, then turned on his heel and left the office.
Degenerate sat back. If this man didn't work, there were always others.
However, the man could hold a basic conversation, which intrigued Degenerate like it did right now. Bandit wore a mask in his presence, which didn't bother Degenerate. Degenerate began, "My men have been telling me someone's been snooping around to try and find me."
"Yeah, I hear that. Some hero in the D."
"I know who he is." He passed over a sketch to Bandit. It was a sketch of Jack Whitney because Degenerate had passed his image on to an excellent sketch artist who then reproduced this. He passed another sketch to Bandit. "And he was with him."
"Seen him," he pointed to Jack. "Never seen him." He pointed to the red-haired English kid who was with him.
"Pass this out to your men. I want them to keep an eye out for them."
"And if they find them?"
"Do what you can to bring them to me. Try and keep them alive, I like to use them. This one uses mind control and telekinesis."
"People can't be normal," Bandit muttered, and took the two pictures. "What about this guy?"
"I have no idea. I don't know anything about him." Degenerate frowned to himself - when he attempted to get into that man's head, he couldn't latch onto anything, it was like he wasn't even there.
"Okay, we'll haunt the D."
"I'm working on getting more information about him right now." He wondered about his contact with Arachnos, whether or not she had been found out. She hadn't contacted him yet this week and he wondered. Not worried.
Bandit got up. "Do you care what condition he's in when we bring him to you?"
"He's a mutant, and I want his powers dampened. You have ways of doing that, don't you?"
"Sure we do," he said with a smile. "It'll cost you more."
Degenerate pulled out an envelope and slid it across the desk. "Will that do?"
Bandit picked it up and quickly skimmed the money in the envelope. He nodded, then turned on his heel and left the office.
Degenerate sat back. If this man didn't work, there were always others.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Officer Juan Aguilar stared out boringly at the parking lot. This, he thought sourly, is what graduating fifteenth in your Academy class gets you. At least he was in the PPD, his wife expecting their first child, and they had a really nice apartment in Skyway. In three months he would be taking his Lieutenant's exam.
Someone knocked on the window of his little shack. He turned to see a guy in a blue suit who looked like he came from the office next door. "Hey, officer, I locked myself out of my car."
"Call Triple-A," Aguilar said, his usual pat answer to that statement.
"I don't have a phone."
He looked over at the man. He looked like he should have a phone, dressed as he did. Maybe he forgot it in the office. Aguilar pulled himself up off the chair, and stepped outside of his shack. The man started walking toward the rear of the lot. Aguilar followed casually. Then, suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind and put something over his mouth and nose. He breathed in a sharp, pungent smell, and struggled against whoever held him. They held him tight, though, and the smell overpowered him. He felt himself falling...
It was cold. He woke up, feeling lightheaded and sick to his stomach. He couldn't get the smell out of his nose.
He tried to sit up, but found he was being held down. He turned his head, and saw that he was looking at a set of bars. He came to his senses - he was dressed in what felt like sweats, on something that was like a slab. He looked up to see an IV drip in his arm. He heard some movement, and looked toward the bars.
"Damn, Billy, you're good with that shit."
"Told you he'd be up right about now."
Two men in plain t-shirts and jeans stood at the bars. "What's going on?" he asked.
"You're going to be part of a performance," one of the men said. "Just you rest. If you promise to be good, maybe we'll feed you."
"But what.."
"Don't worry about it, man. You'll never know what hit you."
Someone knocked on the window of his little shack. He turned to see a guy in a blue suit who looked like he came from the office next door. "Hey, officer, I locked myself out of my car."
"Call Triple-A," Aguilar said, his usual pat answer to that statement.
"I don't have a phone."
He looked over at the man. He looked like he should have a phone, dressed as he did. Maybe he forgot it in the office. Aguilar pulled himself up off the chair, and stepped outside of his shack. The man started walking toward the rear of the lot. Aguilar followed casually. Then, suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind and put something over his mouth and nose. He breathed in a sharp, pungent smell, and struggled against whoever held him. They held him tight, though, and the smell overpowered him. He felt himself falling...
It was cold. He woke up, feeling lightheaded and sick to his stomach. He couldn't get the smell out of his nose.
He tried to sit up, but found he was being held down. He turned his head, and saw that he was looking at a set of bars. He came to his senses - he was dressed in what felt like sweats, on something that was like a slab. He looked up to see an IV drip in his arm. He heard some movement, and looked toward the bars.
"Damn, Billy, you're good with that shit."
"Told you he'd be up right about now."
Two men in plain t-shirts and jeans stood at the bars. "What's going on?" he asked.
"You're going to be part of a performance," one of the men said. "Just you rest. If you promise to be good, maybe we'll feed you."
"But what.."
"Don't worry about it, man. You'll never know what hit you."
("Black Shield" in Gaelic)
Nathan easily plowed through the demons that the Circle had summoned. Can't they do better than this? he thought, as he put his hand through one of the demons and ripped out what could be considered its heart. It went down in an instant.
He walked around the room, and his eye was caught by a shield propped up in the corner. It looked almost new, a shiny black one with a red crimson bar across its center. It looked kind of small for him, but he went over to it anyway. He picked it up and put his left arm through the strap.
Suddenly, he got a severe pain in his left wrist, as if something was grabbing a hold of it with claws. He couldn't get the strap of the shield off, even as he tugged at it.
Be calm, Nathan.
Nathan whirled around, fists raised - even though one was covered by the shield. He looked around for the source of the woman's voice. The pain in his wrist got more severe; now something was digging into it. He tried to lift the strap but it was seemingly attached to his wrist.
Almost done.
"Done what?" He looked around the room wildly.
I am called Black Shield. I am yours now.
"What?" Now he looked at the shield.
You have dark power now.
"No! I just got rid of it!" He finally was able to yank the shield off and threw it to the ground.
I am yours, the shield continued. For the rest of your life.
Nathan looked down at his wrist, and saw a blue tattoo that looked like barbed wire. He touched it - it was raised, as if it was under his skin. He scratched at it, but it didn't bleed, however it moved under his skin.
Take up the shield.
He was suddenly filled with yearning, and he bent down and picked up the shield, putting it back on his arm. He felt a tingling in his right arm, and he looked down at it to see it covered with a bubbling, dark substance. He raised his arm, and when he did, a black sword exploded out of his fist. He jerked back, but the sword didn't disappear. He shook his hand, but it didn't go away. "What the fuck!"
Claimoh Dubh. Black Sword.
"No, no, no..." But it felt so perfect, so right, to have this ghostly sword in hand and this shield on his arm, that he felt invincible, like he had years ago...He stopped fighting it, and let the perfect feeling wash over him, filling him with power and strength. He wasn't sure if it was evil or not, and to tell the truth, he really didn't care.
"Aontu me," Nathan said, raising the sword, his eyes afire with dark flame. "I agree."
Nathan easily plowed through the demons that the Circle had summoned. Can't they do better than this? he thought, as he put his hand through one of the demons and ripped out what could be considered its heart. It went down in an instant.
He walked around the room, and his eye was caught by a shield propped up in the corner. It looked almost new, a shiny black one with a red crimson bar across its center. It looked kind of small for him, but he went over to it anyway. He picked it up and put his left arm through the strap.
Suddenly, he got a severe pain in his left wrist, as if something was grabbing a hold of it with claws. He couldn't get the strap of the shield off, even as he tugged at it.
Be calm, Nathan.
Nathan whirled around, fists raised - even though one was covered by the shield. He looked around for the source of the woman's voice. The pain in his wrist got more severe; now something was digging into it. He tried to lift the strap but it was seemingly attached to his wrist.
Almost done.
"Done what?" He looked around the room wildly.
I am called Black Shield. I am yours now.
"What?" Now he looked at the shield.
You have dark power now.
"No! I just got rid of it!" He finally was able to yank the shield off and threw it to the ground.
I am yours, the shield continued. For the rest of your life.
Nathan looked down at his wrist, and saw a blue tattoo that looked like barbed wire. He touched it - it was raised, as if it was under his skin. He scratched at it, but it didn't bleed, however it moved under his skin.
Take up the shield.
He was suddenly filled with yearning, and he bent down and picked up the shield, putting it back on his arm. He felt a tingling in his right arm, and he looked down at it to see it covered with a bubbling, dark substance. He raised his arm, and when he did, a black sword exploded out of his fist. He jerked back, but the sword didn't disappear. He shook his hand, but it didn't go away. "What the fuck!"
Claimoh Dubh. Black Sword.
"No, no, no..." But it felt so perfect, so right, to have this ghostly sword in hand and this shield on his arm, that he felt invincible, like he had years ago...He stopped fighting it, and let the perfect feeling wash over him, filling him with power and strength. He wasn't sure if it was evil or not, and to tell the truth, he really didn't care.
"Aontu me," Nathan said, raising the sword, his eyes afire with dark flame. "I agree."
Friday, January 15, 2010
Harmonia entered the alabaster chambers of her mother's home and went right to her brother's room. Anteros sat on a divan, playing a lute for his brother Eros.
"You're in trouble," Harmonia said, plucking a grape from the dish at the door.
Eros looked up. "I'm always in trouble. That's why I'm cute."
"Not you," she said, and pointed to Anteros. "Him."
Anteros continued his lute-playing, ignoring his sister. She sat down on a couch across from the two gods and waited for him to finish. Eros smiled when he did, and leaned over to kiss his brother. Anteros turned to Harmonia. "What are you talking about?"
"Stefan the Seraphim is furious."
"What about now? He's been grumpy ever since he was assigned to that mortal magician."
"Your arrow became real," she said, tucking her legs under her. "The Mage almost died."
Anteros shrugged, and plucked some notes on the lute. "He learned a lesson, didn't he?"
"You shouldn't have done it. Now there's discord between them. Our father's Champion is in pain, the Seraphim is angry, and the Mage wishes to make all parties happy."
"The Mage fell for the Seraphim. He didn't pay attention to the Champion, so he should have been punished." He bent his head to the lute. "That's what mother said."
"So you had to cause trouble," Harmonia admonished.
"And he made his decision." He plucked a dirge.
"Now his love is being spurned by the Champion."
"That's not my fault," Anteros said. "If the Champion refuses it, that's his perogative. He's not a servant of Aphrodite and bound by the same laws as the Mage."
The doors opened with a boom, and all the godlings turned to the entrance way. Storming through the halls was an angel on fire.
Anteros dropped the lute and flew out a window. Stefan came into the chambers and looked with flaming eyes upon the company, and they backed away from his wrath. "Where is he?"
Eros looked with smoldering eyes on Stefan in his full angelic regalia. Harmonia advanced slowly, "Seraphim," she said quietly, "please be calm--"
"He almost killed him." The ring the Mage gave Stefan shone blue-black against his finger, blazing darker as his own flame grew brighter in anger. "If I wasn't there, he would have been dead."
"Anteros was only giving a lesson..."
"That almost cost my love his life."
Eros made a clicking noise with his tongue. "Gone native on your first exc--URK!"
Stefan lifted Eros by his neck and suspended him a good foot off the ground. Eros' wings flapped futilely. Harmonia put her hands through Stefan's angelic flame and put them on Stefan's chest. "Please, Seraphim!"
Stefan dropped Eros onto the marble floor and glared at Harmonia. "If I see Anteros, I will thrash him within an inch of his life."
Harmonia only nodded and watched Stefan turn from Eros and walk away.
Eros looked at Harmonia. "He seriously needs to get laid."
"You're in trouble," Harmonia said, plucking a grape from the dish at the door.
Eros looked up. "I'm always in trouble. That's why I'm cute."
"Not you," she said, and pointed to Anteros. "Him."
Anteros continued his lute-playing, ignoring his sister. She sat down on a couch across from the two gods and waited for him to finish. Eros smiled when he did, and leaned over to kiss his brother. Anteros turned to Harmonia. "What are you talking about?"
"Stefan the Seraphim is furious."
"What about now? He's been grumpy ever since he was assigned to that mortal magician."
"Your arrow became real," she said, tucking her legs under her. "The Mage almost died."
Anteros shrugged, and plucked some notes on the lute. "He learned a lesson, didn't he?"
"You shouldn't have done it. Now there's discord between them. Our father's Champion is in pain, the Seraphim is angry, and the Mage wishes to make all parties happy."
"The Mage fell for the Seraphim. He didn't pay attention to the Champion, so he should have been punished." He bent his head to the lute. "That's what mother said."
"So you had to cause trouble," Harmonia admonished.
"And he made his decision." He plucked a dirge.
"Now his love is being spurned by the Champion."
"That's not my fault," Anteros said. "If the Champion refuses it, that's his perogative. He's not a servant of Aphrodite and bound by the same laws as the Mage."
The doors opened with a boom, and all the godlings turned to the entrance way. Storming through the halls was an angel on fire.
Anteros dropped the lute and flew out a window. Stefan came into the chambers and looked with flaming eyes upon the company, and they backed away from his wrath. "Where is he?"
Eros looked with smoldering eyes on Stefan in his full angelic regalia. Harmonia advanced slowly, "Seraphim," she said quietly, "please be calm--"
"He almost killed him." The ring the Mage gave Stefan shone blue-black against his finger, blazing darker as his own flame grew brighter in anger. "If I wasn't there, he would have been dead."
"Anteros was only giving a lesson..."
"That almost cost my love his life."
Eros made a clicking noise with his tongue. "Gone native on your first exc--URK!"
Stefan lifted Eros by his neck and suspended him a good foot off the ground. Eros' wings flapped futilely. Harmonia put her hands through Stefan's angelic flame and put them on Stefan's chest. "Please, Seraphim!"
Stefan dropped Eros onto the marble floor and glared at Harmonia. "If I see Anteros, I will thrash him within an inch of his life."
Harmonia only nodded and watched Stefan turn from Eros and walk away.
Eros looked at Harmonia. "He seriously needs to get laid."
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Captain Degenerate settled his cape over his shoulders and tapped the top of his huge hat down. Gwinnett thought he looked stupid, but he didn’t dare express it. As a matter of fact, as soon as he thought it, he shoved it aside, knowing Cap would be able to read his mind. Cap gave him a look, and Gwinnett looked sheepish.
“I look like a ringmaster,” Cap said to Gwinnett. “It’s what’s expected.”
“Yes, sir,” Gwinnett said quietly. You still look stupid.
I haven’t heard any complaints yet, came Cap’s voice in his mind.
Because they know better—
Cap yanked on Gwinnett’s mind, hard, like a man pulling back on a dog’s leash. Gwinnett’s body jerked and he stumbled, quickly regaining his footing as a good mercenary could. Compared to other times, this was nothing but an assertion of Cap’s authority.
“I thought you would be better at guarding your thoughts, Gwin,” Cap said, walking by him nonchalantly. “You need to practice more.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cap pulled open the door to see his bodyguards at the ready. He continued on, and they fell into step behind him. Cap skimmed their thoughts, and they all thought he looked stupid too. He didn’t care – he was the one in control here, and if he wanted to prove to them who was boss, all he had to do was send a commanding thought to them, and they would go do the Chicken Dance naked in front of a hundred people.
He parted the curtain to his balcony, and the throng of people in the arena slowly hushed. His balcony looked out on a stage, and surrounding this stage was arena seating. He only passed out a hundred tickets at a time, and most of the time, the arena was full. This was no exception.
He raised his arms, the cape falling away from his shoulders. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Granny Mae, who will perform feats of amazement for a woman of her age.”
The curtain to the stage opened, and a woman was sitting on a chair, a cane beside her. She looked terrified. Cap sent soothing thoughts to her, and her face relaxed.
Stand.
The woman stood, and reached for her cane.
You don’t need that.
He pressed a button on his console, and a jazzy tune erupted from the speakers all around.
Dance.
He met resistance. I can’t dance, haven’t danced since—
He pushed it. DANCE.
She started moving slowly side to side, carefully picking her steps.
Faster.
He continually ordered her to move faster and faster, very much out of time with the music, to the roar of laughter from the audience. Finally, she collapsed, exhausted. He chuckled, and forced her again to stand up, defying the pain that her body sent to her, overriding her exhaustion.
This is fucking stupid…
He caught onto that thought, and grabbed onto the thinker. A man in the audience. Perfect.
Join her on stage.
Fuck you, I’m with this broad—
Do it, he commanded, and the man jerked up from his seat in the middle of the auditorium. Usually Cap didn’t do this to paying customers, but Cap thought his performance was going along fine. Now they would learn.
He was a squat, heavy-set man, balding and in a green suit – obviously Family. He half-stumbled, half-walked to the stage, and it took him a while to climb up on it, to the laughter of the audience. Cap didn’t tell him about the stairs to the side.
Finally, the man had gotten up on stage. He looked at the woman, who again had a terrified look on her face.
Cap smoothed her thoughts, and at the same time commanded the Family man, You find her unbelievably desirable. She is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. She’s so hot, you can’t help yourself…
The Family man advanced, undoing his pants. He started toward her – and Cap again smoothed the thoughts of fear in the woman’s mind. Cheering started from somewhere in the audience, and was taken up quickly. He initially was gentle, then turned brutal, tearing the woman’s clothes away, and forcing her over the chair. When he finished, the beating started, until the woman wasn’t even recognizable as a human, but a mere lump of flesh.
Cap congratulated the man on a job well done, and released his mind. The man collapsed half-naked on the floor in a pool of blood, and Cap smiled at the look of horror on the man’s face. Skimming the minds of the audience, he found everything from revulsion to adoration to fear. He raised his hands in benediction, glorifying in the applause from the people below. Then he left the arena the same way he came, with the bodyguards following his every move.
There was an after-performance party which he was required to attend. He thoroughly enjoyed that, easily reading the minds of all and sometimes causing some distractions with other people in a corner. He could hold onto two minds, sometimes three if they were receptive, and still hold a conversation. The party usually ended with two or more women coming home with him.
He got out of his costume and into his suit. Gwinnett stood by, waiting.
“I believe next week I want a PPDer in full uniform,” Cap said, buttoning his shirt.
“Do you want that man we found for you?”
Cap waved his hand in dismissal. “No, too complicated. He’s a psi, and it would take too long to control him. Why go after the alpha when you can pick off the thetas and get just as much meat out of them? I need something that can stop his telekinesis. Some kind of psychic armor, perhaps.”
Cap finished buttoning up his jacket, and looked at himself in the mirror. He nodded, and walked out of his dressing room to be accosted immediately by fans.
“I look like a ringmaster,” Cap said to Gwinnett. “It’s what’s expected.”
“Yes, sir,” Gwinnett said quietly. You still look stupid.
I haven’t heard any complaints yet, came Cap’s voice in his mind.
Because they know better—
Cap yanked on Gwinnett’s mind, hard, like a man pulling back on a dog’s leash. Gwinnett’s body jerked and he stumbled, quickly regaining his footing as a good mercenary could. Compared to other times, this was nothing but an assertion of Cap’s authority.
“I thought you would be better at guarding your thoughts, Gwin,” Cap said, walking by him nonchalantly. “You need to practice more.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cap pulled open the door to see his bodyguards at the ready. He continued on, and they fell into step behind him. Cap skimmed their thoughts, and they all thought he looked stupid too. He didn’t care – he was the one in control here, and if he wanted to prove to them who was boss, all he had to do was send a commanding thought to them, and they would go do the Chicken Dance naked in front of a hundred people.
He parted the curtain to his balcony, and the throng of people in the arena slowly hushed. His balcony looked out on a stage, and surrounding this stage was arena seating. He only passed out a hundred tickets at a time, and most of the time, the arena was full. This was no exception.
He raised his arms, the cape falling away from his shoulders. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Granny Mae, who will perform feats of amazement for a woman of her age.”
The curtain to the stage opened, and a woman was sitting on a chair, a cane beside her. She looked terrified. Cap sent soothing thoughts to her, and her face relaxed.
Stand.
The woman stood, and reached for her cane.
You don’t need that.
He pressed a button on his console, and a jazzy tune erupted from the speakers all around.
Dance.
He met resistance. I can’t dance, haven’t danced since—
He pushed it. DANCE.
She started moving slowly side to side, carefully picking her steps.
Faster.
He continually ordered her to move faster and faster, very much out of time with the music, to the roar of laughter from the audience. Finally, she collapsed, exhausted. He chuckled, and forced her again to stand up, defying the pain that her body sent to her, overriding her exhaustion.
This is fucking stupid…
He caught onto that thought, and grabbed onto the thinker. A man in the audience. Perfect.
Join her on stage.
Fuck you, I’m with this broad—
Do it, he commanded, and the man jerked up from his seat in the middle of the auditorium. Usually Cap didn’t do this to paying customers, but Cap thought his performance was going along fine. Now they would learn.
He was a squat, heavy-set man, balding and in a green suit – obviously Family. He half-stumbled, half-walked to the stage, and it took him a while to climb up on it, to the laughter of the audience. Cap didn’t tell him about the stairs to the side.
Finally, the man had gotten up on stage. He looked at the woman, who again had a terrified look on her face.
Cap smoothed her thoughts, and at the same time commanded the Family man, You find her unbelievably desirable. She is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. She’s so hot, you can’t help yourself…
The Family man advanced, undoing his pants. He started toward her – and Cap again smoothed the thoughts of fear in the woman’s mind. Cheering started from somewhere in the audience, and was taken up quickly. He initially was gentle, then turned brutal, tearing the woman’s clothes away, and forcing her over the chair. When he finished, the beating started, until the woman wasn’t even recognizable as a human, but a mere lump of flesh.
Cap congratulated the man on a job well done, and released his mind. The man collapsed half-naked on the floor in a pool of blood, and Cap smiled at the look of horror on the man’s face. Skimming the minds of the audience, he found everything from revulsion to adoration to fear. He raised his hands in benediction, glorifying in the applause from the people below. Then he left the arena the same way he came, with the bodyguards following his every move.
There was an after-performance party which he was required to attend. He thoroughly enjoyed that, easily reading the minds of all and sometimes causing some distractions with other people in a corner. He could hold onto two minds, sometimes three if they were receptive, and still hold a conversation. The party usually ended with two or more women coming home with him.
He got out of his costume and into his suit. Gwinnett stood by, waiting.
“I believe next week I want a PPDer in full uniform,” Cap said, buttoning his shirt.
“Do you want that man we found for you?”
Cap waved his hand in dismissal. “No, too complicated. He’s a psi, and it would take too long to control him. Why go after the alpha when you can pick off the thetas and get just as much meat out of them? I need something that can stop his telekinesis. Some kind of psychic armor, perhaps.”
Cap finished buttoning up his jacket, and looked at himself in the mirror. He nodded, and walked out of his dressing room to be accosted immediately by fans.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The ones that are --> are Captain Degenerate to Mind.
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: *text message* Hello, looking for old, smoked bacon. Call me. Oink!
[Tell] Mindstryker: *dials the number*
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Hello, hello, Slaughterhouse Five! You kill 'em, we chill 'em. How can I help you today?
[Tell] Mindstryker: You just called me, how'd you get this number? (( he doesn't know who this is ))
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Let's just say I hacked away at a few things, and dug it up out of a sewer. How are you, my porker friend? You don't remember me, do you?
[Tell] Mindstryker: ......this CAN'T be who it sounds like. NO parole board would be stupid enough to let YOU out.....
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Oh, I remember you, Jackie-Blue. You wouldn't *believe* what I had to do to get this number. And to hear your lovely voice again...
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Parole board? Ha! Try Arachnos!
[Tell] Mindstryker: Arachnos? What the hell use would they even HAVE for you, you sick fuck??
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Oh, don't you know? They take anything that breathes, and even things that don't. And so nice to hear those terms of endearment...
Tell] -->Mindstryker: They broke a bunch of us out, and set us loose upon the streets! All I needed to do was some convincing. You know how that goes, don't you, Porky?
[Tell] Mindstryker: Don't get too comfortable, you sick piece of shit. As soon as I find you, you're going back inside. For good, this time.
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Wah, wah, whine, whine, whine. Threaten, threaten, threaten. That's all you pigs do - well, I'm beyond those laws. You'll have to come and find me, and I'm not goin' back, copper! Oh, by the way...I have a nice little side business...
[Tell] Mindstryker: Oh, really? Raping little kids? Beating grandmothers to death? I can't imagine anything that'd surprise me coming from YOU.
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: I sell tickets. You wouldn't *believe* what people pay to see.
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Oh, hey, that's a great idea! I think I'll do that this week. You're so helpful!
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Well, ta ta! And I'll have this phone number tattooed on my...well, someplace that I can see it. *clicks*
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: *text message* Hello, looking for old, smoked bacon. Call me. Oink!
[Tell] Mindstryker: *dials the number*
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Hello, hello, Slaughterhouse Five! You kill 'em, we chill 'em. How can I help you today?
[Tell] Mindstryker: You just called me, how'd you get this number? (( he doesn't know who this is ))
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Let's just say I hacked away at a few things, and dug it up out of a sewer. How are you, my porker friend? You don't remember me, do you?
[Tell] Mindstryker: ......this CAN'T be who it sounds like. NO parole board would be stupid enough to let YOU out.....
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Oh, I remember you, Jackie-Blue. You wouldn't *believe* what I had to do to get this number. And to hear your lovely voice again...
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Parole board? Ha! Try Arachnos!
[Tell] Mindstryker: Arachnos? What the hell use would they even HAVE for you, you sick fuck??
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Oh, don't you know? They take anything that breathes, and even things that don't. And so nice to hear those terms of endearment...
Tell] -->Mindstryker: They broke a bunch of us out, and set us loose upon the streets! All I needed to do was some convincing. You know how that goes, don't you, Porky?
[Tell] Mindstryker: Don't get too comfortable, you sick piece of shit. As soon as I find you, you're going back inside. For good, this time.
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Wah, wah, whine, whine, whine. Threaten, threaten, threaten. That's all you pigs do - well, I'm beyond those laws. You'll have to come and find me, and I'm not goin' back, copper! Oh, by the way...I have a nice little side business...
[Tell] Mindstryker: Oh, really? Raping little kids? Beating grandmothers to death? I can't imagine anything that'd surprise me coming from YOU.
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: I sell tickets. You wouldn't *believe* what people pay to see.
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Oh, hey, that's a great idea! I think I'll do that this week. You're so helpful!
[Tell] -->Mindstryker: Well, ta ta! And I'll have this phone number tattooed on my...well, someplace that I can see it. *clicks*
Womby walked into the library, carrying a box of books. Although he didn't think anybody in the Havens group would be interested in marine micro-biology, the books were very up-to-date and could be useful to someone.
He climbed the stairs, heading to that section and was surprised to see Grim floating in the air in front of one of the book cases, looking like he was organizing the books.
"Oi, mate," he said, and Grim turned.
"Oh, hey, Womby. Long time no see."
"Been busy, school an' all. Whatcha doin'?"
"Organizing." He floated down. "It's what I do when I can't concentrate on magic."
"How come?"
"Lots of stuff going on."
"Like what?"
"Raina's pregnant, and her son has tech from the technomancers, and they want him to be a born technomancer."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Oh, supposedly he'll be a god like all the other technomancers seem to act."
"Hm." Womby put down the box of books on a table. "You got a thing against 'em?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"How come?"
"They remind me of the mages I used to hate with the Circle. 'You can't know this, you're not ready.' 'You wouldn't understand.' 'This spell has been handed down through my family for centuries and no one outside the family can use it.' That's a crock of bullshit. They want to control people."
"Maybe they don't think you'd understand."
"I would! I'm not a fucking idiot."
"Y' haven't proved it."
Grim's eyes narrowed.
"Grim, they might've been burnt an' they don't trust ev'ryone who comes down th' road. What's t' say that you wouldn't take their tech an' use it against 'em, like maybe somebody else did? Or abuse it?" Womby crossed his arms. "Y' don' have a trustworthy record, mate."
"I've changed!"
"'ave you? You still don' know how t' let go. You did it with Ariel. You did it with Mase. You did it with John. You're doin' it with the technomancers."
"What do you mean?"
Womby looked at him steadily. "They ain' the Circle, mate."
"They're worse! They're so damn mysterious, and they won't--"
"Maybe they got a right t' be." Womby leaned against the railing. "Ya know, mate, you're th' one who said 'No secrets'. I never had that rule, an' neither did Trip. Sometimes people need secrets, things t' keep t' themselves, things t' work out for th'mselves. We all had secrets." He looked up at Grim. "You jus' didn't care 'bout us so much t' wanna know."
Grim blinked at him.
"You ain' changed, Grim. You still want t' control people. But y're bein' more subtle about it now, gettin' inta people's good graces instead o' comin' right at 'em full bore like ya used to. You get 'em t' trust you, an' then you have 'em."
"That...that's not true."
Womby looked him in the eye. They stared at each other for a long time, and Grim was the first to look away. Womby stood up from the pillar. "That's th' first thing ya gotta let go, Grim. Control. Let y'r friends be y'r friends, not y'r followers."
"Control is what mages do," Grim said coldly.
"You ain' a mage anymore." Womby turned from him, and started down the stairs, then stopped and looked up at him. "You gotta start thinkin' diff'rently, mate." He headed down the stairs.
Grim watched him go, and then sat down on the floor amid the piles of books.
He climbed the stairs, heading to that section and was surprised to see Grim floating in the air in front of one of the book cases, looking like he was organizing the books.
"Oi, mate," he said, and Grim turned.
"Oh, hey, Womby. Long time no see."
"Been busy, school an' all. Whatcha doin'?"
"Organizing." He floated down. "It's what I do when I can't concentrate on magic."
"How come?"
"Lots of stuff going on."
"Like what?"
"Raina's pregnant, and her son has tech from the technomancers, and they want him to be a born technomancer."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Oh, supposedly he'll be a god like all the other technomancers seem to act."
"Hm." Womby put down the box of books on a table. "You got a thing against 'em?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"How come?"
"They remind me of the mages I used to hate with the Circle. 'You can't know this, you're not ready.' 'You wouldn't understand.' 'This spell has been handed down through my family for centuries and no one outside the family can use it.' That's a crock of bullshit. They want to control people."
"Maybe they don't think you'd understand."
"I would! I'm not a fucking idiot."
"Y' haven't proved it."
Grim's eyes narrowed.
"Grim, they might've been burnt an' they don't trust ev'ryone who comes down th' road. What's t' say that you wouldn't take their tech an' use it against 'em, like maybe somebody else did? Or abuse it?" Womby crossed his arms. "Y' don' have a trustworthy record, mate."
"I've changed!"
"'ave you? You still don' know how t' let go. You did it with Ariel. You did it with Mase. You did it with John. You're doin' it with the technomancers."
"What do you mean?"
Womby looked at him steadily. "They ain' the Circle, mate."
"They're worse! They're so damn mysterious, and they won't--"
"Maybe they got a right t' be." Womby leaned against the railing. "Ya know, mate, you're th' one who said 'No secrets'. I never had that rule, an' neither did Trip. Sometimes people need secrets, things t' keep t' themselves, things t' work out for th'mselves. We all had secrets." He looked up at Grim. "You jus' didn't care 'bout us so much t' wanna know."
Grim blinked at him.
"You ain' changed, Grim. You still want t' control people. But y're bein' more subtle about it now, gettin' inta people's good graces instead o' comin' right at 'em full bore like ya used to. You get 'em t' trust you, an' then you have 'em."
"That...that's not true."
Womby looked him in the eye. They stared at each other for a long time, and Grim was the first to look away. Womby stood up from the pillar. "That's th' first thing ya gotta let go, Grim. Control. Let y'r friends be y'r friends, not y'r followers."
"Control is what mages do," Grim said coldly.
"You ain' a mage anymore." Womby turned from him, and started down the stairs, then stopped and looked up at him. "You gotta start thinkin' diff'rently, mate." He headed down the stairs.
Grim watched him go, and then sat down on the floor amid the piles of books.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Grim found himself at the top of a hill, looking down at Riverside Park. He hadn’t been there since he was a kid. It was closed now, but here the park was alive and well, with the roller coaster and the merry-go-round, and the bumper cars that he loved so much.
Grim knew it was a dream – the roller coaster had been torn down years ago and turned into apartments. The merry-go-round was still up, even though it no longer ran. It was a museum piece now, manned by members of the Historical Society. No longer could you ride the wooden horses, or hold the brass bars as you flowed up and down; no longer rang the bell signaling the ride was almost over, and you would reach up for the brass ring above the gypsy mirror as you would pass it by. Even adults could never get it.
However, as he came down the hill, he heard the calliope of the merry-go-round, and saw in the pavilion that it was going around and around, lights constantly changing, horses and gryphons dancing. He saw that there was no one in the park. He moved in between the rides, listening to the music and watching the lights. There was not another soul.
“Mikey?”
Grim turned to see a woman in glasses dressed in a flower-print blouse and polyester pants, low shoes and her hair cut short in a pixie style. She tilted her head and gazed at Grim curiously.
“Mom…” Grim walked over to her, fighting the urge to run into her arms. It’s a dream, just a dream…
She held out her arms, and he gave up. He ran into her arms, smelling deeply the perfume she used to always wear, a flowery dew called Odyssey. He kissed her cheeks and held her face, staring into her hazel eyes, eyes not inherited by any of her children.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“To explain something to you.” She took his hand, and started walking through the park. They stopped at the concession stand, where Grim had always wanted to get something but his mother always said they didn’t have enough money. Two hot dogs appeared on the counter before them. His mother pulled out her wallet from her purse and left the money on the counter. He saw that was the only money she had.
“Mom, you don’t have to—“ He reached into his pocket for his wallet, but it was gone. “Mom, you’ve sacrificed enough.”
“You don’t understand, do you?” She turned to him, and put her wallet back in her purse. “Do you think that’s what I did?”
“You had a career. You gave it up. And you gave up your health. You were sick and you didn’t tell any of us how bad it was.”
“Because I love you.”
Grim’s eyes filled with tears. “That was stupid! We could have helped, found better doctors, done something—“
“Mikey,” she caressed his face. “It wasn’t a sacrifice. It made me proud to see you grow. I was happy to be there and help you.” She stepped back and looked at him.
“You were never a curse, Mikey. You were always a blessing.”
“But your career. Your life.”
“You became my life, Mikey.”
“Didn’t you hate me sometimes? You had to give up yourself for me and I never appreciated it.”
“Mikey, it’s not a sacrifice if you want to do it. You would do anything for your friends, wouldn’t you?”
“Within reason, it seems,” he said, thinking of Kalius and what he had done to him.
“You would do it without expecting anything in return, right?”
“Yes…”
She smiled at him, a knowing, loving smile. “Then you do understand.”
“But kids…”
“Need help more than others. You’ll get gratitude, later, when you see them grow, and see the returns.” Then, suddenly, she looked behind her. “I have to go and see your father,” she said quietly. “He’s coming soon.”
“Okay.” Grim hugged her again, inhaling her scent and bringing tears to his eyes again.
“Now, Mikey, what did I say?”
This was a stock phrase of hers, and it brought a smile to his face. “You said that children are a blessing, and that helping them grow is satisfaction enough.”
“Good boy,” she said, and patted his face. “Get a biscuit.” She picked up a sugar cookie that suddenly appeared on the counter instead of the hot dogs. Grim laughed, and took the cookie, completing the little ritual they used to perform. She turned from him and walked away, fading away as she walked past the merry-go-round.
He looked down at the cookie, and started to cry. He awoke from the dream, sobbing in Stefan’s arms.