Friday, July 6, 2007
Bomber had taken to sitting at the docks with his helmet off. He could smell the sea, the rotting fish, the garbage, which didn't bother him much. He could feel the cool breeze off the water, and sometimes the wetness of some spray caused by a distant boat. His ears were peeled for any tell-tale walking or slither of movement: one hand was on his rifle while his helmet was safely tucked between his legs.
He heard someone approach, so he picked up the rifle and held it loosely in his arms. His finger found the trigger. He had worked with this weapon long enough that he automatically placed his hands in the right places.
"Take it easy, Mickey," came a voice to his left, and he shifted the gun so that the barrel pointed in that direction. "Put that down."
"I don't know you. I can't see you. You know what happens when people get scared and they can't see you and they're backed into a corner and someone comes at them and you know what that person in the corner would do to you?"
"I can get an idea."
"Good, because I don't feel like getting shot."
"Mmmmkay." Bomber felt the man come closer, and he pointed the gun up a little higher. "Mickey, I'm here to help you."
"So is that my name? I thought it was Bombardier."
"It was supposed to be, but it didn't quite work out that way."
"Who are you?"
"You don't remember me?"
"Should I?"
The man chuckled. "Good. Very good."
"I hate when people do that, it sounds like something very evil is going to come down the pike. Do you know anything about sea monsters?"
"Actually, I do. I am one."
"Oh. Gonna eat me, then?"
"Actually, I will." Then Bomber felt something on his head, like a vise, something wrapped around his skull and started to crush it.
He didn't have the helmet, so he had no protection, and he felt his skull get tighter, and smaller, and heard the crack of the bones of his skull - he uttered only a small scream before he felt his head break open.
The connection re-esablished as he came out of consciousness. He could see through the darkness of the disposed metal crate, knew he was alone here. Nobody would come into this box, it's a tomb.
Mickey, Mickey, Mickey.
He whirled around, grabbing his gun from the floor of the box, looking all around him.
The levee breaks...where's your microphone?
"Two turntables," he muttered.
Go north to Chicago.
"Swan..."
Hummingbird! We're all free now.
Bomber sat on the floor of the box, continuing his disjointed conversation until the sunlight erupted through the hole in the ceiling of the box, centering on the floor near his hand.
"Goin' to Chicago...goin' down...goin' down now..." He tried to grab at the shaft of light, but it escaped his grasp.
He heard someone approach, so he picked up the rifle and held it loosely in his arms. His finger found the trigger. He had worked with this weapon long enough that he automatically placed his hands in the right places.
"Take it easy, Mickey," came a voice to his left, and he shifted the gun so that the barrel pointed in that direction. "Put that down."
"I don't know you. I can't see you. You know what happens when people get scared and they can't see you and they're backed into a corner and someone comes at them and you know what that person in the corner would do to you?"
"I can get an idea."
"Good, because I don't feel like getting shot."
"Mmmmkay." Bomber felt the man come closer, and he pointed the gun up a little higher. "Mickey, I'm here to help you."
"So is that my name? I thought it was Bombardier."
"It was supposed to be, but it didn't quite work out that way."
"Who are you?"
"You don't remember me?"
"Should I?"
The man chuckled. "Good. Very good."
"I hate when people do that, it sounds like something very evil is going to come down the pike. Do you know anything about sea monsters?"
"Actually, I do. I am one."
"Oh. Gonna eat me, then?"
"Actually, I will." Then Bomber felt something on his head, like a vise, something wrapped around his skull and started to crush it.
He didn't have the helmet, so he had no protection, and he felt his skull get tighter, and smaller, and heard the crack of the bones of his skull - he uttered only a small scream before he felt his head break open.
The connection re-esablished as he came out of consciousness. He could see through the darkness of the disposed metal crate, knew he was alone here. Nobody would come into this box, it's a tomb.
Mickey, Mickey, Mickey.
He whirled around, grabbing his gun from the floor of the box, looking all around him.
The levee breaks...where's your microphone?
"Two turntables," he muttered.
Go north to Chicago.
"Swan..."
Hummingbird! We're all free now.
Bomber sat on the floor of the box, continuing his disjointed conversation until the sunlight erupted through the hole in the ceiling of the box, centering on the floor near his hand.
"Goin' to Chicago...goin' down...goin' down now..." He tried to grab at the shaft of light, but it escaped his grasp.
For some of Luther's backstory.
August, 1942
Ten men stood in the lobby of Wewelsburg castle, handing their coats off to the lower-ranking SS men dressed in formal whites.
"I could get used to this," said one, brown-haired but with red, almost glowing eyes.
"Don't," snapped a handsome blond. "We're here because the Reichsführer-SS wants us.”
An older member of the ten men, with milky white eyes that would normally mean he was blind, focused those eyes on one of the white-clad boys. The young man swallowed and looked nervous.
“Ges,” said another blond, this one with a short beard.
Ges only grinned ferally and turned to him. “Blut.”
Blut blinked slowly, shaking his head. “Stop.”
“Heil Hitler, mein Herren,” came a voice at the foot of a set of stairs. They turned to see a man in a black SS uniform, unlike the field gray they wore. They all turned and answered the officer, offering the stiff-armed salute.
The man came over and looked at the handsome blond. “Good to see that Rommel released you, Reichsführer der Schlachtfeld.”
“He is preparing for the final thrust into the Nile, Obersturmbannführer,” he replied. “Another couple of months and the Tommies will be eliminated.”
“So we have heard, that is excellent news. Come with me, gentlemen?”
The ten men followed the young man down into the depths of the castle. The air grew cooler and thicker. A young member of the group balked, but Blut put a hand on his shoulder and they continued down stairs and stone tunnels. The largest of them had to squeeze sideways through the doorway.
Finally, they came upon a large round room. A multi-armed swastika was in the center of the floor. The Reichsführer der Schlachtfeld shivered. Magic.
The Reichsführer-SS, Heinrich Himmler, stepped out from an alcove. He wore a fake smile pasted on his face. Himmler and the Reichsführer der Schlachtfeld hated each other, and their animosity came off in waves. “Luther,” Himmler said, calling him by his first name, offering his hand.
Luther refused it, looking up into Himmler’s watery blue eyes with his own steel grey ones. “What do you want of us?”
Himmler took it back, looking like he actually expected Luther do that. “Your men will be embarking on the greatest excursion any man has ever done.”
“Heard that before,” muttered the twin brother of the man who had said he could get used to being waited on. He spoke in English, and only two other men in the room knew what he said. Their eyes laughed, but they kept focused on Himmler. The small man accepted the translation from Blut in his mind, who then used his telepathic ability to disseminate it among the rest of the men. The twin brother coughed for a moment as Himmler continued on:
“Luther, you and your Jagerverbande are going to go back in time.”
The room was silent. The big man to the rear rumbled, “You’re serious.”
“He’s very serious,” said Luther, studying Himmler. “How far back in time?”
“We are thinking maybe three years. Knowing what we know about you now, we could have utilized you on the Eastern Front.”
Luther glared at him. “You had us then! You could have used us THEN!”
Himmler blinked like a cow. “We did not.”
Luther seethed. “No. You did not.”
The two men glared at each other. Finally Luther snarled, “When is this wondrous journey expected to take place?”
“Tomorrow at dawn.” He motioned to the vault. “You will stay here, meditate and prepare yourselves.”
“Wait,” said the big man, “Nothing to eat?”
“You must be pure when undertaking such a difficult journey.”
Luther rolled his eyes heavenward. “Twelve hours won’t kill us. We’ve gone through worse.” The men nodded, and Himmler looked them all over.
“Stier, the man who is a bull.” He said this to the large man in the back, the one who mentioned not eating. “Eule,” he went over to the young man, “the mind reader. Feuer and Pfiel, the fire user and the sniper.” He looked at the two twins.
“Blut, he who reads auras. Ges, he who works in the shadow. Messer, the knife thrower;” he nodded to a young man. “Sani the healer,” he said this to a very pretty blond man. “Wolf, the rabbit’s foot.” This was offered to a man who refused to cut his hair, but had it pulled back in a tight pony tail – entirely against SS regulations, but he seemed to always get out of any punishment detail. “And Luther. The immortal.”
Luther’s eyes narrowed. “I think you are misinformed.”
“Oh no,” Himmler said with a smile. “The Führer told me.”
Luther couldn’t counter that with anything – he had been the one who told the Führer himself.
Himmler gathered up his coat against the chill air of the vault. “Be prepared and vigilant, gentlemen, for tomorrow you ride.”
He and his entourage of five left the room, leaving the ten men to stare at each other in disbelief.
-----------------------------------------
Glossary: (All ranks, titles, and German words are real except otherwise noted)
Reichsführer der Schlactfeld (Overlord of the Battlefield - fictional) Reserved for Luther only, the title was presented to him by Hitler in 1941 during the first invasion of Russia.
Reichsführer-SS. Reserved for Heinrich Himmler, leader of the SS.
Obersturmbannführer – Lieutenant Colonel in the SS. Abbreviated Obstbf.
Tommies - slang for British/Commonwealth soldiers.
August, 1942
Ten men stood in the lobby of Wewelsburg castle, handing their coats off to the lower-ranking SS men dressed in formal whites.
"I could get used to this," said one, brown-haired but with red, almost glowing eyes.
"Don't," snapped a handsome blond. "We're here because the Reichsführer-SS wants us.”
An older member of the ten men, with milky white eyes that would normally mean he was blind, focused those eyes on one of the white-clad boys. The young man swallowed and looked nervous.
“Ges,” said another blond, this one with a short beard.
Ges only grinned ferally and turned to him. “Blut.”
Blut blinked slowly, shaking his head. “Stop.”
“Heil Hitler, mein Herren,” came a voice at the foot of a set of stairs. They turned to see a man in a black SS uniform, unlike the field gray they wore. They all turned and answered the officer, offering the stiff-armed salute.
The man came over and looked at the handsome blond. “Good to see that Rommel released you, Reichsführer der Schlachtfeld.”
“He is preparing for the final thrust into the Nile, Obersturmbannführer,” he replied. “Another couple of months and the Tommies will be eliminated.”
“So we have heard, that is excellent news. Come with me, gentlemen?”
The ten men followed the young man down into the depths of the castle. The air grew cooler and thicker. A young member of the group balked, but Blut put a hand on his shoulder and they continued down stairs and stone tunnels. The largest of them had to squeeze sideways through the doorway.
Finally, they came upon a large round room. A multi-armed swastika was in the center of the floor. The Reichsführer der Schlachtfeld shivered. Magic.
The Reichsführer-SS, Heinrich Himmler, stepped out from an alcove. He wore a fake smile pasted on his face. Himmler and the Reichsführer der Schlachtfeld hated each other, and their animosity came off in waves. “Luther,” Himmler said, calling him by his first name, offering his hand.
Luther refused it, looking up into Himmler’s watery blue eyes with his own steel grey ones. “What do you want of us?”
Himmler took it back, looking like he actually expected Luther do that. “Your men will be embarking on the greatest excursion any man has ever done.”
“Heard that before,” muttered the twin brother of the man who had said he could get used to being waited on. He spoke in English, and only two other men in the room knew what he said. Their eyes laughed, but they kept focused on Himmler. The small man accepted the translation from Blut in his mind, who then used his telepathic ability to disseminate it among the rest of the men. The twin brother coughed for a moment as Himmler continued on:
“Luther, you and your Jagerverbande are going to go back in time.”
The room was silent. The big man to the rear rumbled, “You’re serious.”
“He’s very serious,” said Luther, studying Himmler. “How far back in time?”
“We are thinking maybe three years. Knowing what we know about you now, we could have utilized you on the Eastern Front.”
Luther glared at him. “You had us then! You could have used us THEN!”
Himmler blinked like a cow. “We did not.”
Luther seethed. “No. You did not.”
The two men glared at each other. Finally Luther snarled, “When is this wondrous journey expected to take place?”
“Tomorrow at dawn.” He motioned to the vault. “You will stay here, meditate and prepare yourselves.”
“Wait,” said the big man, “Nothing to eat?”
“You must be pure when undertaking such a difficult journey.”
Luther rolled his eyes heavenward. “Twelve hours won’t kill us. We’ve gone through worse.” The men nodded, and Himmler looked them all over.
“Stier, the man who is a bull.” He said this to the large man in the back, the one who mentioned not eating. “Eule,” he went over to the young man, “the mind reader. Feuer and Pfiel, the fire user and the sniper.” He looked at the two twins.
“Blut, he who reads auras. Ges, he who works in the shadow. Messer, the knife thrower;” he nodded to a young man. “Sani the healer,” he said this to a very pretty blond man. “Wolf, the rabbit’s foot.” This was offered to a man who refused to cut his hair, but had it pulled back in a tight pony tail – entirely against SS regulations, but he seemed to always get out of any punishment detail. “And Luther. The immortal.”
Luther’s eyes narrowed. “I think you are misinformed.”
“Oh no,” Himmler said with a smile. “The Führer told me.”
Luther couldn’t counter that with anything – he had been the one who told the Führer himself.
Himmler gathered up his coat against the chill air of the vault. “Be prepared and vigilant, gentlemen, for tomorrow you ride.”
He and his entourage of five left the room, leaving the ten men to stare at each other in disbelief.
-----------------------------------------
Glossary: (All ranks, titles, and German words are real except otherwise noted)
Reichsführer der Schlactfeld (Overlord of the Battlefield - fictional) Reserved for Luther only, the title was presented to him by Hitler in 1941 during the first invasion of Russia.
Reichsführer-SS. Reserved for Heinrich Himmler, leader of the SS.
Obersturmbannführer – Lieutenant Colonel in the SS. Abbreviated Obstbf.
Tommies - slang for British/Commonwealth soldiers.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
"I'm getting sick and tired of sucking my meals through a straw."
The Facemaker nurse looked the...man over. He was well-covered so she couldn't see the details of his body. He stood lopsidedly, which meant one leg was shorter than the other. He was encased in the armor, and she doubted she could get it off easily. She wasn't sure she wanted to.
"So you want your helmet off?"
"And to be able to put it back on."
"Oh, sure. Do you want your head to remain on this body?" She wasn't being sarcastic.
"Could you do that? I'd appreciate it." Neither was he.
She beckoned to one of the side rooms. She had him lay on the bed and restrained him. He put his arms in the right places - he had been in such a position before, she realized. She opened a drawer that presented her with everything from a scalpel to a hacksaw. She examined the helmet with a critical eye.
She heard a noise coming from the helmet. She stared at it, blinking. He had fallen asleep.
Shrugging, she took out a screwdriver and jammed it into a side hole. That woke him up with a cry, and she smiled under her mask. She dug the screwdriver in more, and started prying, trying to separate the two halves. That didn't quite work. She went after the seam between the front and back. That only succeeded in scratching the helmet because she couldn't gain purchase in the seams.
Another Facemaker peeked in, just as she had a mallet and chisel in her hand and was aiming it at that seam. "Hey, Krissie, don't do it like that."
"Huh?" Krissie looked up at the other Facemaker.
He walked into the room. "I've seen these helmets before. It's easy." He walked over to the wing that was on the side of the helmet, pressed a black button and pulled the wing forward. It turned on a wheel and clicked.
The light hiss of air was followed by a small "snap" as the front and back separated. To anyone else, the smell eminating from that would make them nauseous at the very least. Rot, combined with sweat, dirt, and fear, Facemakers had dealt with worse, both in looks and smell, so this was nothing to them - not to mention the ventilation device on their masks helped.
Slightly disappointed, the first nurse peeled away the helmet and stared, blinking. Anyone else would have recoiled.
He had unhealed sutures all over his face. His eyes were sealed shut. She glanced at her scalpel to wonder if she should try to cut them open. He had scars on the back of his head, testament to more unhealed or inadequately healed wounds.
The man on the bed took a deep breath and coughed. "Ugh, what is that smell?"
"You," the Facemaker said, slowly undoing his restraints. "When was the last time you had a bath?"
"I don't remember. Where are you?"
Meanwhile, the Facemaker looked inside the helmet: there was a black protrusion on both sides of the front section of the helmet. There were two holes on the side of the man' head - these would correspond to the protrusions.
The Facemaker stated, "You're blind, you know that?"
"Oh, that explains why everything's dark! I thought I looked so ugly that you didn't want anyone to see me so you shut the lights off."
"There is that," she said. "There's a connection inside your helmet that helps you see, I guess."
"Hm." He held out his hand. "Where's my helmet?"
She handed him the front part. He felt the protrusions on the side, then fit them to his head with a slight click. "Still can't see."
"Maybe you need to put the whole helmet back on."
He nodded, and she handed him the second part. Then she took his hand and showed him how the wing section worked - though he would have to take his glove off to do it, or have someone do it for him because it was a small hole. "Or stick something in the hole to hold the button down."
"Got anything I can use?"
She looked around and got a pen, handing it to him. He practiced opening and closing the helmet a few times, then put it back on. He gasped for a moment. "Oh, there everything is. It takes a little bit to warm up." He turned to the Facemaker. "So, how much?"
"Three K."
He ducked a hand under his breastplate. "Here's three and fifty. Thanks for your help."
"Sure. Let me know if you need anything else removed."
"I might." He walked out of the Facemaker's with a grin, thinking of a thick steak dinner. "I wonder how blind people eat..."
The Facemaker nurse looked the...man over. He was well-covered so she couldn't see the details of his body. He stood lopsidedly, which meant one leg was shorter than the other. He was encased in the armor, and she doubted she could get it off easily. She wasn't sure she wanted to.
"So you want your helmet off?"
"And to be able to put it back on."
"Oh, sure. Do you want your head to remain on this body?" She wasn't being sarcastic.
"Could you do that? I'd appreciate it." Neither was he.
She beckoned to one of the side rooms. She had him lay on the bed and restrained him. He put his arms in the right places - he had been in such a position before, she realized. She opened a drawer that presented her with everything from a scalpel to a hacksaw. She examined the helmet with a critical eye.
She heard a noise coming from the helmet. She stared at it, blinking. He had fallen asleep.
Shrugging, she took out a screwdriver and jammed it into a side hole. That woke him up with a cry, and she smiled under her mask. She dug the screwdriver in more, and started prying, trying to separate the two halves. That didn't quite work. She went after the seam between the front and back. That only succeeded in scratching the helmet because she couldn't gain purchase in the seams.
Another Facemaker peeked in, just as she had a mallet and chisel in her hand and was aiming it at that seam. "Hey, Krissie, don't do it like that."
"Huh?" Krissie looked up at the other Facemaker.
He walked into the room. "I've seen these helmets before. It's easy." He walked over to the wing that was on the side of the helmet, pressed a black button and pulled the wing forward. It turned on a wheel and clicked.
The light hiss of air was followed by a small "snap" as the front and back separated. To anyone else, the smell eminating from that would make them nauseous at the very least. Rot, combined with sweat, dirt, and fear, Facemakers had dealt with worse, both in looks and smell, so this was nothing to them - not to mention the ventilation device on their masks helped.
Slightly disappointed, the first nurse peeled away the helmet and stared, blinking. Anyone else would have recoiled.
He had unhealed sutures all over his face. His eyes were sealed shut. She glanced at her scalpel to wonder if she should try to cut them open. He had scars on the back of his head, testament to more unhealed or inadequately healed wounds.
The man on the bed took a deep breath and coughed. "Ugh, what is that smell?"
"You," the Facemaker said, slowly undoing his restraints. "When was the last time you had a bath?"
"I don't remember. Where are you?"
Meanwhile, the Facemaker looked inside the helmet: there was a black protrusion on both sides of the front section of the helmet. There were two holes on the side of the man' head - these would correspond to the protrusions.
The Facemaker stated, "You're blind, you know that?"
"Oh, that explains why everything's dark! I thought I looked so ugly that you didn't want anyone to see me so you shut the lights off."
"There is that," she said. "There's a connection inside your helmet that helps you see, I guess."
"Hm." He held out his hand. "Where's my helmet?"
She handed him the front part. He felt the protrusions on the side, then fit them to his head with a slight click. "Still can't see."
"Maybe you need to put the whole helmet back on."
He nodded, and she handed him the second part. Then she took his hand and showed him how the wing section worked - though he would have to take his glove off to do it, or have someone do it for him because it was a small hole. "Or stick something in the hole to hold the button down."
"Got anything I can use?"
She looked around and got a pen, handing it to him. He practiced opening and closing the helmet a few times, then put it back on. He gasped for a moment. "Oh, there everything is. It takes a little bit to warm up." He turned to the Facemaker. "So, how much?"
"Three K."
He ducked a hand under his breastplate. "Here's three and fifty. Thanks for your help."
"Sure. Let me know if you need anything else removed."
"I might." He walked out of the Facemaker's with a grin, thinking of a thick steak dinner. "I wonder how blind people eat..."
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
"I want the ability to kill without compunction..."
Masonry's conditions to Styrm when "the plant" asked him to join.
(This takes place many many months after Frosty gets out of the hospital)
"I'll quit the Freedom Force."
Keen Frost turned to Masonry and smiled. "Mase, they won't let you. Parole."
"Hide me. It's another freakin' country!" At Frost's look, Masonry stood up and folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah, I know. I'm whining."
"You are whining. It's only six months. I'll be back in no time."
Six months. Did Frosty have any idea how much trouble he could get into in six months? How he could possibly mess up his parole? Only Jack could stop him now, and a lot of people knew how effective that was.
So when the airplane carrying Frosty turned into a small speck in the sky, Masonry looked around the airport in a killing mood. He hated everyone and everything...
The Isles.
He grinned ferally. Of course, why didn't I think of that before? If I tell the parole officer where I'm going, it doesn't matter, as long as I check in every month and, on the Isles...what's another few dead bodies?
Jack didn't like the idea, but, then, he didn't have much of a choice. Mase contacted a few people who got him passage to the Isles. For about two weeks, he lived in Port Oakes, beating the few Family and Council that he found. Then some Hellions started hanging around him. Thought he was cool. Thought he was strong and could handle himself - and protect them from other sharks in the water.
So he does. As long as they do what he says and they keep the doe-eyed worship that they came to him with. Otherwise... what's another few dead bodies?
Masonry's conditions to Styrm when "the plant" asked him to join.
(This takes place many many months after Frosty gets out of the hospital)
"I'll quit the Freedom Force."
Keen Frost turned to Masonry and smiled. "Mase, they won't let you. Parole."
"Hide me. It's another freakin' country!" At Frost's look, Masonry stood up and folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah, I know. I'm whining."
"You are whining. It's only six months. I'll be back in no time."
Six months. Did Frosty have any idea how much trouble he could get into in six months? How he could possibly mess up his parole? Only Jack could stop him now, and a lot of people knew how effective that was.
So when the airplane carrying Frosty turned into a small speck in the sky, Masonry looked around the airport in a killing mood. He hated everyone and everything...
The Isles.
He grinned ferally. Of course, why didn't I think of that before? If I tell the parole officer where I'm going, it doesn't matter, as long as I check in every month and, on the Isles...what's another few dead bodies?
Jack didn't like the idea, but, then, he didn't have much of a choice. Mase contacted a few people who got him passage to the Isles. For about two weeks, he lived in Port Oakes, beating the few Family and Council that he found. Then some Hellions started hanging around him. Thought he was cool. Thought he was strong and could handle himself - and protect them from other sharks in the water.
So he does. As long as they do what he says and they keep the doe-eyed worship that they came to him with. Otherwise... what's another few dead bodies?
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Angel tossed her hat at the coatrack and missed. "Chah," she snapped.
A man's deep voice chuckled. "[Someday you will hit it,]" he said in Arctican.
Angel looked at the man seated at his desk, his boots up on it in the pose of being very comfortable. He had dark red hair, and was dressed in dark blue colored armor with light blue triangles that looked like fangs at his collar. "[Anything new?]" he asked.
"[I met someone,]" she said, taking off her jacket and draping it on the armless couch.
"[Is that good or bad?]"
She chuckled, went over to the man. "[Good, I believe.]"
The man put his legs down, took her hands and held them to his chest. She smiled at him. He closed his glowing blue eyes, eyes that on another planet would be useful in their ability to see in infrared, but on this planet was too bright. He took a deep breath and breathed on her hands, freezing them.
Angel removed her hands, flexing her fingers, letting the ice fall off. "[Someday we should attempt that the way humans do.]"
"[I understand I cannot.]"
Angel shrugged. "[If there were a pure Arctican female I am sure it can be provided. I understand surrogates may be used...]"
"[We could test it. But not today.]" He motioned to the array of computer screens. "[Kay has abandoned his post - again - to chase...] butterflies?"
"[Small winged creatures that would be no where near here.]"
"[Then why does he chase them?]"
"[Why does he do anything, Blood? I am so glad that the Acceleration Injection did not affect you like that.]"
Another huge man entered the room. "[Sister. Brother.]"
They both saluted him. "Fox," they both said. He looked similar to Blood, but he did not wear armor like his brother. His "armor" was thinner, more like material, that allowed his natural ability to flow through - the ability to create ice around him. All Arcticans had this ability - he honed it and used it in public, especially on Earth, where it was thought to be unusual.
He had black hair, angular features, and green almond eyes. Earth women were jealous of his thick black lashes and enjoyed his easy manner. He was able to easily present the beneficial side of joining the Winters in their work on the Isles. He worked mostly in Paragon City, while his family ran through the Rogue Isles.
"[Been dancing again, Angel?]"
She grinned at them. "[How else do you expect me to gather information?]"
Fox blinked slowly and focused on his sister. "[So you provide your body to any of them,]" he waved his hand absently southward, "[for what?]"
"[Some satisfy me.]" She glanced at Blood.
"[By sticking a part inside you that does not belong there. You enjoy that?]"
"[Just because you do not does not mean that I do!]"
"[She is still half-human,]" Blood said quietly. "[It is possible that it is required.]"
Fox turned slowly to Blood. "[Terran males disgust me. They are wrongly placed.]"
"[They think the same of us,]" Angel said. "[Who are you to tell me what to do? You may be a Frost, but I can command you.]"
He turned to his sister. "[Then do so.]"
She advanced, then pressed her hands against his chest, and Fox gasped, moved backwards. She chased him until he hit the wall, and he shook his head. "[Stop.]"
She hit his chest and he grunted in pain, holding the area. "[For your information, Fox, I have found something out.]"
"Huh," he said, trying to regain his breath.
"[There is someone who has requested my services - other than the human version of pleasure. He wishes me to watch someone.]"
Blood chuckled from the other end of the room. "[And this is important why?]"
"[He seems to be a leader of men.]"
"[We could form a coalition with him.]"
"[I do not think he is open to that suggestion just yet. It is his will and no one else's, I could sense that.]" She glanced at Fox who now stood up, the paleness of his face apparent. "[I will watch this man, it may be that the other man is more important.]"
"Competition, [I believe Terrans call it.]"
Fox only nodded. "[Do as you think best, my Lady.]"
She smiled and walked out of the room. "[Who knows? Maybe he will satisfy me as well as Blood.]"
A man's deep voice chuckled. "[Someday you will hit it,]" he said in Arctican.
Angel looked at the man seated at his desk, his boots up on it in the pose of being very comfortable. He had dark red hair, and was dressed in dark blue colored armor with light blue triangles that looked like fangs at his collar. "[Anything new?]" he asked.
"[I met someone,]" she said, taking off her jacket and draping it on the armless couch.
"[Is that good or bad?]"
She chuckled, went over to the man. "[Good, I believe.]"
The man put his legs down, took her hands and held them to his chest. She smiled at him. He closed his glowing blue eyes, eyes that on another planet would be useful in their ability to see in infrared, but on this planet was too bright. He took a deep breath and breathed on her hands, freezing them.
Angel removed her hands, flexing her fingers, letting the ice fall off. "[Someday we should attempt that the way humans do.]"
"[I understand I cannot.]"
Angel shrugged. "[If there were a pure Arctican female I am sure it can be provided. I understand surrogates may be used...]"
"[We could test it. But not today.]" He motioned to the array of computer screens. "[Kay has abandoned his post - again - to chase...] butterflies?"
"[Small winged creatures that would be no where near here.]"
"[Then why does he chase them?]"
"[Why does he do anything, Blood? I am so glad that the Acceleration Injection did not affect you like that.]"
Another huge man entered the room. "[Sister. Brother.]"
They both saluted him. "Fox," they both said. He looked similar to Blood, but he did not wear armor like his brother. His "armor" was thinner, more like material, that allowed his natural ability to flow through - the ability to create ice around him. All Arcticans had this ability - he honed it and used it in public, especially on Earth, where it was thought to be unusual.
He had black hair, angular features, and green almond eyes. Earth women were jealous of his thick black lashes and enjoyed his easy manner. He was able to easily present the beneficial side of joining the Winters in their work on the Isles. He worked mostly in Paragon City, while his family ran through the Rogue Isles.
"[Been dancing again, Angel?]"
She grinned at them. "[How else do you expect me to gather information?]"
Fox blinked slowly and focused on his sister. "[So you provide your body to any of them,]" he waved his hand absently southward, "[for what?]"
"[Some satisfy me.]" She glanced at Blood.
"[By sticking a part inside you that does not belong there. You enjoy that?]"
"[Just because you do not does not mean that I do!]"
"[She is still half-human,]" Blood said quietly. "[It is possible that it is required.]"
Fox turned slowly to Blood. "[Terran males disgust me. They are wrongly placed.]"
"[They think the same of us,]" Angel said. "[Who are you to tell me what to do? You may be a Frost, but I can command you.]"
He turned to his sister. "[Then do so.]"
She advanced, then pressed her hands against his chest, and Fox gasped, moved backwards. She chased him until he hit the wall, and he shook his head. "[Stop.]"
She hit his chest and he grunted in pain, holding the area. "[For your information, Fox, I have found something out.]"
"Huh," he said, trying to regain his breath.
"[There is someone who has requested my services - other than the human version of pleasure. He wishes me to watch someone.]"
Blood chuckled from the other end of the room. "[And this is important why?]"
"[He seems to be a leader of men.]"
"[We could form a coalition with him.]"
"[I do not think he is open to that suggestion just yet. It is his will and no one else's, I could sense that.]" She glanced at Fox who now stood up, the paleness of his face apparent. "[I will watch this man, it may be that the other man is more important.]"
"Competition, [I believe Terrans call it.]"
Fox only nodded. "[Do as you think best, my Lady.]"
She smiled and walked out of the room. "[Who knows? Maybe he will satisfy me as well as Blood.]"
Masonry leaned back in his chair, his head back, and almost falling asleep, when he heard a sharp rap on the window. He jerked awake, turned toward the sound.
He got up and went to the window, tugging at the sash and opening the curtain. He chuckled at the sight that met him and threw open the window. "Hey, Star."
"Hello Lodestar Nathan. You see Keen Frost?" The woman floated on her white wings in the air outside.
"Yeah."
"He better?"
"He's stable. Doctors are trying to get some nutrients in him to get his organs working right again. It's slow going." He looked down at the window pane. "He hasn't woken up yet."
"Rest heal?"
"That's what Jack says. I want to try and heal him, but I'm afraid to."
"Ummmm...N'shta say do what feel right."
He smiled a little. "When the time comes."
She nodded. "I go fly."
"You do that. I'll see you later."
She went straight up into the air and Mase closed the window.
About three hours later, Mase was gently caressing Frosty's arm, healing himself when he could no longer feel his fingertips. Frosty still generated frostbite, but it didn't mind Mase. To him it was a small discomfort.
Providence had come in to see him and drag him and Fyre away for a quick lunch. Both of them were distracted, and Prov understood that, so kept her chatter to a minimum. Food was sustenance, not something to be enjoyed yet. As soon as they were finished, they both almost ran back upstairs to their vigils.
Mase's focus was on Frosty, on caressing his arm. Mase rested his head on his own arm stretched across the bed railing and didn't hear someone come into the room.
"Mase."
Masonry jerked up at the voice, looking like a deer in headlights. He blushed suddenly and jumped up from his chair. "Hi..." he coughed, "Hi, Hisagi."
Hisagi crossed his arms and regarded Masonry with a stern look which eased up quickly. The two men switched places. "How is he?"
"No change since I called you."
"Hm." He gazed at his brother.
"I'm going to wait outside."
Hisagi nodded. Masonry went over to the busy nurse's station. One of them looked up and smiled, "Hi, Mr. Greene."
"Hey, Carol. Busy, I see."
"Shift change."
"You're staying?"
She nodded. "A double."
"That must be rough on your family."
"I don't have one."
"Not even a boyfriend?"
She looked down and blushed. "No."
"Are you serious? A pretty girl like you without a boyfriend? We should remedy that."
She blushed even more. One of the other nurses came by. "You like to make her blush," she said in heavily accented English.
"Wamuiru," Masonry said, and Jack fed him the rest of the words in Swahili, "[I am surrounded here by beautiful women, and it's only right and proper to make them happy.]"
Wamuiru laughed deeply. "[You like to see them blush, don't deny it.]"
"That too," Masonry said with a grin. "Maybe on your break, I can take you for coffee." He looked to the two of them, "Both of you."
They both smiled back at him. "Maybe," said Carol.
A male doctor glanced their way and said with a smile, "Mr. Greene, stop flirting with the hired help."
"Oh, should I flirt with you too, Dr. Eastman?"
The entire station started laughing, even while Eastman blushed slightly - and so did Masonry. He looked up at a round mirror that was mostly used for people to glance up at in case a cart was coming down the hall so they could avoid collisions. He could see the doorways of four rooms, one of which was Frosty's.
He nodded to Dr. Eastman, who came their way. "Any change?"
He shook his head. "None at all. His core body temperature is still -28 Celsius."
Masonry nodded. "Will there be any...damage if he doesn't wake up during a certain time?"
"I doubt it. His brain activity is still steady. I've seen something like this before in other heroes. He's in hibernation. If anything, he'll freeze."
Masonry's eyes widened slightly.
"I don't believe he'll freeze to death, Mr. Greene. Like I said, I've seen this before." He smiled. "As he warms up, we need to make sure there's no permanent damage to his organs because he didn't take in anything during that entire time he was on fire." He glanced at a screen. "Unfortunately the nutrients aren't going in because they're freezing as soon as they reach his skin. We need to add something to at least get it in his blood stream."
"Is his blood frozen?"
"It is very, very, very sluggish. The IV drip is down to one every five minutes."
"I can probably warm parts of his body, but not all at once, not without..." He swallowed and looked away.
"It's all right, Mr. Greene. We just need to take it slow."
Mase glanced up at the mirror again and saw Stronghold come out of the room. He glanced at Masonry, then the doctor. "This is Daisuke's brother," Masonry introduced him.
"We've already spoken," Stronghold said. He glanced around, looking like he was in a hurry.
"Oh, right. You're his next of kin, sorry." Mase turned away. "I'm going... back."
"Call me if there's any change, Mase. Doctor." He went down the hall, a man with a purpose.
Eastman glanced at Mase. Masonry smiled a little. "He's always like that." Though he acted a little more harried than usual.
"Do you want a TV in there?"
He shook his head. "I like the quiet. You get used to it after a while. Plus Jack is full of stories to keep me entertained."
"Jack? Oh, your Kheldian."
He smiled. "Does he need to sign a request for release of information, too?"
"I think the HIPPA rules don't quite apply," Eastman replied with a smile. "I'll check in on him soon."
Masonry nodded, turned to the two nurses who had gone back to work. "Remember, Carol, 'Iru. Breaktime."
"If you are not asleep, Mr. Greene," said Wamuiru.
He got up and went to the window, tugging at the sash and opening the curtain. He chuckled at the sight that met him and threw open the window. "Hey, Star."
"Hello Lodestar Nathan. You see Keen Frost?" The woman floated on her white wings in the air outside.
"Yeah."
"He better?"
"He's stable. Doctors are trying to get some nutrients in him to get his organs working right again. It's slow going." He looked down at the window pane. "He hasn't woken up yet."
"Rest heal?"
"That's what Jack says. I want to try and heal him, but I'm afraid to."
"Ummmm...N'shta say do what feel right."
He smiled a little. "When the time comes."
She nodded. "I go fly."
"You do that. I'll see you later."
She went straight up into the air and Mase closed the window.
About three hours later, Mase was gently caressing Frosty's arm, healing himself when he could no longer feel his fingertips. Frosty still generated frostbite, but it didn't mind Mase. To him it was a small discomfort.
Providence had come in to see him and drag him and Fyre away for a quick lunch. Both of them were distracted, and Prov understood that, so kept her chatter to a minimum. Food was sustenance, not something to be enjoyed yet. As soon as they were finished, they both almost ran back upstairs to their vigils.
Mase's focus was on Frosty, on caressing his arm. Mase rested his head on his own arm stretched across the bed railing and didn't hear someone come into the room.
"Mase."
Masonry jerked up at the voice, looking like a deer in headlights. He blushed suddenly and jumped up from his chair. "Hi..." he coughed, "Hi, Hisagi."
Hisagi crossed his arms and regarded Masonry with a stern look which eased up quickly. The two men switched places. "How is he?"
"No change since I called you."
"Hm." He gazed at his brother.
"I'm going to wait outside."
Hisagi nodded. Masonry went over to the busy nurse's station. One of them looked up and smiled, "Hi, Mr. Greene."
"Hey, Carol. Busy, I see."
"Shift change."
"You're staying?"
She nodded. "A double."
"That must be rough on your family."
"I don't have one."
"Not even a boyfriend?"
She looked down and blushed. "No."
"Are you serious? A pretty girl like you without a boyfriend? We should remedy that."
She blushed even more. One of the other nurses came by. "You like to make her blush," she said in heavily accented English.
"Wamuiru," Masonry said, and Jack fed him the rest of the words in Swahili, "[I am surrounded here by beautiful women, and it's only right and proper to make them happy.]"
Wamuiru laughed deeply. "[You like to see them blush, don't deny it.]"
"That too," Masonry said with a grin. "Maybe on your break, I can take you for coffee." He looked to the two of them, "Both of you."
They both smiled back at him. "Maybe," said Carol.
A male doctor glanced their way and said with a smile, "Mr. Greene, stop flirting with the hired help."
"Oh, should I flirt with you too, Dr. Eastman?"
The entire station started laughing, even while Eastman blushed slightly - and so did Masonry. He looked up at a round mirror that was mostly used for people to glance up at in case a cart was coming down the hall so they could avoid collisions. He could see the doorways of four rooms, one of which was Frosty's.
He nodded to Dr. Eastman, who came their way. "Any change?"
He shook his head. "None at all. His core body temperature is still -28 Celsius."
Masonry nodded. "Will there be any...damage if he doesn't wake up during a certain time?"
"I doubt it. His brain activity is still steady. I've seen something like this before in other heroes. He's in hibernation. If anything, he'll freeze."
Masonry's eyes widened slightly.
"I don't believe he'll freeze to death, Mr. Greene. Like I said, I've seen this before." He smiled. "As he warms up, we need to make sure there's no permanent damage to his organs because he didn't take in anything during that entire time he was on fire." He glanced at a screen. "Unfortunately the nutrients aren't going in because they're freezing as soon as they reach his skin. We need to add something to at least get it in his blood stream."
"Is his blood frozen?"
"It is very, very, very sluggish. The IV drip is down to one every five minutes."
"I can probably warm parts of his body, but not all at once, not without..." He swallowed and looked away.
"It's all right, Mr. Greene. We just need to take it slow."
Mase glanced up at the mirror again and saw Stronghold come out of the room. He glanced at Masonry, then the doctor. "This is Daisuke's brother," Masonry introduced him.
"We've already spoken," Stronghold said. He glanced around, looking like he was in a hurry.
"Oh, right. You're his next of kin, sorry." Mase turned away. "I'm going... back."
"Call me if there's any change, Mase. Doctor." He went down the hall, a man with a purpose.
Eastman glanced at Mase. Masonry smiled a little. "He's always like that." Though he acted a little more harried than usual.
"Do you want a TV in there?"
He shook his head. "I like the quiet. You get used to it after a while. Plus Jack is full of stories to keep me entertained."
"Jack? Oh, your Kheldian."
He smiled. "Does he need to sign a request for release of information, too?"
"I think the HIPPA rules don't quite apply," Eastman replied with a smile. "I'll check in on him soon."
Masonry nodded, turned to the two nurses who had gone back to work. "Remember, Carol, 'Iru. Breaktime."
"If you are not asleep, Mr. Greene," said Wamuiru.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Read this first.
Three a.m., and Masonry awoke. He still sat at Daisuke's beside, his arms resting on the bedrail, his head cradled on top of them. His back hurt from being pulled out. He got up, stretched and yawned. He looked at Daisuke's face; his eyes were closed. He glanced up at the machines, knowing only what three or four of them did and assured that everything was within normal parameters.
Mase knew it would take some time before Daisuke would be stable enough for Mase to do more than go down to the cafeteria. It didn't matter - it wasn't like Mase had anything pressing. Rusty could take over for him whether he liked it or not.
He yawned again: Time for coffee. After touching Daisuke's hand, he left the room. Waving to the nurses at the station, he asked if they wanted anything before going on.
E's room was a little out of the way for the cafeteria, but he usually passed by it on the way anyhow. He passed the labs, his head down but ready to peek into the room. He approached the lab and saw a familiar sight: "Oh, hey, Doppy; guys." He nodded to the huge phantom and the three smaller ones, who seemed to take aggressive positions in the hallway. He continued on and peeked into the room. Fyre was asleep, in the same position he had been in Daisuke's room. He smiled to himself and kept on going.
He stopped at the elevator, his hand poised over the button as Jack said quietly, Doppy? What's he doing here?
Protecting E, what else.
Jack asked him to go back down the hallway. With a sigh, he went back down and saw nothing. "Can I get my coffee now?" he muttered.
He felt Jack's mental shrug. Just a feeling...
Three a.m., and Masonry awoke. He still sat at Daisuke's beside, his arms resting on the bedrail, his head cradled on top of them. His back hurt from being pulled out. He got up, stretched and yawned. He looked at Daisuke's face; his eyes were closed. He glanced up at the machines, knowing only what three or four of them did and assured that everything was within normal parameters.
Mase knew it would take some time before Daisuke would be stable enough for Mase to do more than go down to the cafeteria. It didn't matter - it wasn't like Mase had anything pressing. Rusty could take over for him whether he liked it or not.
He yawned again: Time for coffee. After touching Daisuke's hand, he left the room. Waving to the nurses at the station, he asked if they wanted anything before going on.
E's room was a little out of the way for the cafeteria, but he usually passed by it on the way anyhow. He passed the labs, his head down but ready to peek into the room. He approached the lab and saw a familiar sight: "Oh, hey, Doppy; guys." He nodded to the huge phantom and the three smaller ones, who seemed to take aggressive positions in the hallway. He continued on and peeked into the room. Fyre was asleep, in the same position he had been in Daisuke's room. He smiled to himself and kept on going.
He stopped at the elevator, his hand poised over the button as Jack said quietly, Doppy? What's he doing here?
Protecting E, what else.
Jack asked him to go back down the hallway. With a sigh, he went back down and saw nothing. "Can I get my coffee now?" he muttered.
He felt Jack's mental shrug. Just a feeling...