Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Bagar was a class B star, and the fourth planet in its orbit contained a colony from Indiana, a planet merely five light-years away. The natives of Bagar Four were considered pacifist, and the colony was under a bubble, not allowed to interact with the natives in any way. That didn't stop the diplomats, or those that wanted to be.
Rusty arrived at the shuttle bay, along with Captain Zill Grey, Navigator Chen, and Tech Moreau. Moreau was nicknamed "Billychon", a certain species of fruit from the Gelise system that looked and smelled horrible on the outside, but was sweet and tender on the inside. Billychon acted gruff, seemed perpetually angry, but was always good in a fight.
Rusty took a spot toward the rear of the shuttle, manning its engines. The shuttle roared to life and the four-man crew headed down to the planet surface. Grey tried all the frequencies until he finally got an automated response which allowed him to open the bay doors into the bubble of the city.
Grey kept his communications open in two ways: both in his ear and in his mind. He was in constant communication with the ship due to an implant that only he had, as it was too much money to outfit all the members of his crew with it. He kept the one in his ear as an outward manifestation of the implant, to make others think that was his only communication link. The others had their communication links in their ears as well.
"Take a gun," Grey commanded the three men. Rusty took a hand-held laser, and stopped to take a small dagger, mostly because he saw it in his field of visions. The three men flanked the captain as he opened the shuttle door.
They came face to face with a rotund robot who stood right outside the door. "Any repairs required," the robot said flatly.
"Negative," replied Grey. "Where is your controller?"
"Above," the robot responded, as its visual apparatus pointed upward. Rusty followed its gaze to see a large command center directly above them. Rusty saw some robots running around from place to place, moving things from one area of the bay to another.
"It's too quiet," said Chen. "There's no humans working down here."
"Maybe they don't have any," Moreau said.
Rusty arrived at the shuttle bay, along with Captain Zill Grey, Navigator Chen, and Tech Moreau. Moreau was nicknamed "Billychon", a certain species of fruit from the Gelise system that looked and smelled horrible on the outside, but was sweet and tender on the inside. Billychon acted gruff, seemed perpetually angry, but was always good in a fight.
Rusty took a spot toward the rear of the shuttle, manning its engines. The shuttle roared to life and the four-man crew headed down to the planet surface. Grey tried all the frequencies until he finally got an automated response which allowed him to open the bay doors into the bubble of the city.
Grey kept his communications open in two ways: both in his ear and in his mind. He was in constant communication with the ship due to an implant that only he had, as it was too much money to outfit all the members of his crew with it. He kept the one in his ear as an outward manifestation of the implant, to make others think that was his only communication link. The others had their communication links in their ears as well.
"Take a gun," Grey commanded the three men. Rusty took a hand-held laser, and stopped to take a small dagger, mostly because he saw it in his field of visions. The three men flanked the captain as he opened the shuttle door.
They came face to face with a rotund robot who stood right outside the door. "Any repairs required," the robot said flatly.
"Negative," replied Grey. "Where is your controller?"
"Above," the robot responded, as its visual apparatus pointed upward. Rusty followed its gaze to see a large command center directly above them. Rusty saw some robots running around from place to place, moving things from one area of the bay to another.
"It's too quiet," said Chen. "There's no humans working down here."
"Maybe they don't have any," Moreau said.
This is raw and unedited. This is based on a story that Cold Soldier and I had cooked up about Emerald Flight and my character Rusty Gears and his Emerald Flight. It will probably need some polishing, but here is some of it, or what I can get down during my lunch hour.
Russell Rayna stared for a moment at the readings on the board, glancing back at the engine room. A short, round tub of a man stood off to the side, leaning against a doorframe, grinning from ear to ear, watching Rayna puzzle the problem out.
"Figure it out yet, boy?" he asked, still grinning.
"It has something to do with the vacuum," Rayna said, tapping the board. "Don't tell me. You're going to tell me. I don't want you to tell me."
"Eh, eh, eh," said the man, "What do you think I'm going to tell you?"
"It has nothing to do with the vacuum."
"Ya got that right."
A voice came over the intercom, tinny and ancient. "Engineering."
The man launched himself from the doorframe and looked up at the cieling as he answered, "Yes, cap'n."
"What're you doing, Prax?"
"Givin' Rusty Aisenburgh's Problem."
"Yeah, whatever that is. Listen, I'm going to have to sustain warp drive for four hours. There's an emergency distress call from Bagar Four."
"Let the Fleet handle it," Rusty said quietly.
"I heard that, Rusty. Because we're under the Fleet's protection and we're closest to there, we should at least investigate for them. The Fleet's sending a ship there but it'll take them ten standard hours to get there."
Rusty glanced at Prax and said, "We could find some Ringor metal there."
"Why do you think we're going?" the captain said, his voice carrying a chuckle. "It's not too far out of our way, and if we can exchange some of these damn silkworms, we won't flood the market on Kalor. We'll be the first ship there, and they'll be happy to see us." Thereby, as the Nexus had done on their planet, give them a good deal in appreciation.
"Provided they're not under attack," Prax said.
Rusty looked steadily at Prax, but his mind was elsewhere, searching in his mind's eye for the possibilities that existed, but he couldn't see what was waiting for them at Bagar Four. Only Prax knew of Rusty's ability to see possible futures. Prax had kept quiet, so long as every once in a while Rusty threw him a bone after a poker game or two.
"We're a merchant ship," Prax continued. "We don't have the firepower."
"If there's a battleship there, we'll act stupid and leave," said the captain. "We've done this before, on Pasteur Nine. Prepare engines."
Rusty and Prax moved to different areas of the engine room. Rusty put a transciever in his ear, while Prax did the same and moved to the other side. Prax began, "Warp in five, four, three, two...one."
Rusty held onto a small bar in front of him as the ship lurched slightly forward, slipping into warp drive. He let go of the bar and punched a few buttons on the boards, making sure the warp engines wouldn't slip out of sync. They had four hours of this, which could tax the ancient vessel, depending on what kind of resistance they would run into.
Luckily, Prax and Rusty had kept the engines in good repair so that they could keep up the warp for about six hours at top speed. They reached the Bagar system within three hours.
Prax glanced at the view screen, which was the same view screen that the captain was looking at. "I don't see anything, do you?"
Rusty shook his head. "I can't see anything either way."
"No ships on the dark side of the moon?"
"No ships in the area," he said, glancing at another viewscreen.
"What the hell would they be complaining about?" Prax asked no one in particular.
Again, the tinny voice came over the intercom, "Engineering."
"Yes, cap'n."
"Send Rayna to the shuttle bay. I'm taking a landing party. Nobody's answering."
"Noted," he replied, nodding to Rusty. "Take the rations, just in case."
"On it," Rusty said, as he has already turned his back on him and headed to a small cabinet.
Russell Rayna stared for a moment at the readings on the board, glancing back at the engine room. A short, round tub of a man stood off to the side, leaning against a doorframe, grinning from ear to ear, watching Rayna puzzle the problem out.
"Figure it out yet, boy?" he asked, still grinning.
"It has something to do with the vacuum," Rayna said, tapping the board. "Don't tell me. You're going to tell me. I don't want you to tell me."
"Eh, eh, eh," said the man, "What do you think I'm going to tell you?"
"It has nothing to do with the vacuum."
"Ya got that right."
A voice came over the intercom, tinny and ancient. "Engineering."
The man launched himself from the doorframe and looked up at the cieling as he answered, "Yes, cap'n."
"What're you doing, Prax?"
"Givin' Rusty Aisenburgh's Problem."
"Yeah, whatever that is. Listen, I'm going to have to sustain warp drive for four hours. There's an emergency distress call from Bagar Four."
"Let the Fleet handle it," Rusty said quietly.
"I heard that, Rusty. Because we're under the Fleet's protection and we're closest to there, we should at least investigate for them. The Fleet's sending a ship there but it'll take them ten standard hours to get there."
Rusty glanced at Prax and said, "We could find some Ringor metal there."
"Why do you think we're going?" the captain said, his voice carrying a chuckle. "It's not too far out of our way, and if we can exchange some of these damn silkworms, we won't flood the market on Kalor. We'll be the first ship there, and they'll be happy to see us." Thereby, as the Nexus had done on their planet, give them a good deal in appreciation.
"Provided they're not under attack," Prax said.
Rusty looked steadily at Prax, but his mind was elsewhere, searching in his mind's eye for the possibilities that existed, but he couldn't see what was waiting for them at Bagar Four. Only Prax knew of Rusty's ability to see possible futures. Prax had kept quiet, so long as every once in a while Rusty threw him a bone after a poker game or two.
"We're a merchant ship," Prax continued. "We don't have the firepower."
"If there's a battleship there, we'll act stupid and leave," said the captain. "We've done this before, on Pasteur Nine. Prepare engines."
Rusty and Prax moved to different areas of the engine room. Rusty put a transciever in his ear, while Prax did the same and moved to the other side. Prax began, "Warp in five, four, three, two...one."
Rusty held onto a small bar in front of him as the ship lurched slightly forward, slipping into warp drive. He let go of the bar and punched a few buttons on the boards, making sure the warp engines wouldn't slip out of sync. They had four hours of this, which could tax the ancient vessel, depending on what kind of resistance they would run into.
Luckily, Prax and Rusty had kept the engines in good repair so that they could keep up the warp for about six hours at top speed. They reached the Bagar system within three hours.
Prax glanced at the view screen, which was the same view screen that the captain was looking at. "I don't see anything, do you?"
Rusty shook his head. "I can't see anything either way."
"No ships on the dark side of the moon?"
"No ships in the area," he said, glancing at another viewscreen.
"What the hell would they be complaining about?" Prax asked no one in particular.
Again, the tinny voice came over the intercom, "Engineering."
"Yes, cap'n."
"Send Rayna to the shuttle bay. I'm taking a landing party. Nobody's answering."
"Noted," he replied, nodding to Rusty. "Take the rations, just in case."
"On it," Rusty said, as he has already turned his back on him and headed to a small cabinet.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
There were a few things that frightened Masonry to no end, that would bring him on the edge of panic. Most of them had to do with his lover, but only one had to do with a place he had been.
The Zig.
Or, by extension, any jail. Like the one he was in right now.
After they put the handcuffs on him at Independence Port, they brought him to Talos Island to be secured in the jail there. He rode quietly in the police car, believing that if he had to, he could break the handcuffs (not knowing they were made of titanium). He rode quietly on the special train that also carried the Red Maiden and some of her Council cohorts. He was quiet as they brought him into the police station.
There began his panic. They fingerprinted him, but he kept looking at the door. He got his phone call and called Frost, leaving a message on his cellphone’s voice mail. Still, he watched the door, and kept his eye on it even as they brought him downstairs to the cells.
He almost lost it as they locked the door behind him, a solid steel door facing him. He stared at that door, believing, again, he could break through it if he had to (not knowing that it, too, was made of Rikti metal specially made against villains such as Red Maiden). He sat, staring at the door, willing Frost to come and get him.
But another man came instead. “Who’s there?” Masonry asked, his voice on the edge of panic, as he heard the locks being turned. The door opened, and in stepped Hisagi, sealing the door behind him. The two men stared at each other for half a minute before Masonry said, “C’mon man, get me out of here.”
Hisagi stated coldly, “You are alone in here. No reason to complain.”
“I'm in JAIL. There's plenty of reason to complain. What’m I in jail for? I was only trying to help.”
“You could have put people in danger.” He stood with his hands behind his back, as if about to give a lecture. “There's only much I can do to keep a villain at bay by knocking them back. I'd have a hard time once they decide to run other than in my own direction.”
“You kept frustrating her, and she probably would have taken off if she wasn't so determined to kick your ass.” Masonry looked around the cell, his panic starting to grow slightly, but he damped it down hard. “Has Frost come yet?”
“I don't know.”
“You wouldn't not let him bail me out, would you?”
Keen Stronghold made no reply. The panic reared its head for half a second as Masonry pleaded, “C'mon, man...”
Stronghold turned at Masonry’s tone, and he grew even colder as he stated, “I'll just ask you once... don't get in the way. It's not your place to discuss tactics. If you want to do so, join the Police.”
“I wasn't 'in the way' - I was trying to help.” He traced one of the stones on the floor with his foot. “And they probably won't take a convicted felon.”
“Probably not.”
“You pounded her in the last minute - why couldn't you do that before?”
“Certain actions need to be saved for the most appropriate moment. But you wouldn't understand that.”
Masonry rolled his eyes and said, “You're supposed to take them down as soon as you can. Not keep playing with them like you're a cat and they're a mouse.”
“Whatever. I'm not going into it. It's useless.”
“I bet you're sore that you couldn't get her down right off the bat.”
“Excuse me, but I don't follow you.” Stronhold almost growled, “You don't know how my equipment works. How I work with them. Your view of tactics is clearly a totally different thing. We both can tell, right?”
“So they give you stuff to subdue but not to really take them down?”
“It works. That's what matters.”
“I was trying to end the fight, not keep the villain engaged. And I'll get in the way if it's necessary. I was trying to help someone who I thought needed it. You're telling me you had everything under control?”
“Yes, I had. And if you do it again, I'll arrest you again.”
“Well, I'll make a point next time to be sure it won't be you...”
“Besides, of all people... I don't need *your* help.”
“You don't *want* my help. Call a spade a spade, Hisagi.”
“Whatever, Mason. It was unnecessary.”
“Okay, okay. Now will you get me out of here?”
“In proper time. I can't keep you here for long. I just wanted to ask you something. You probably... have an idea already.”
“…no idea.” But then it hit him, just as he muttered the words, what Hisagi probably wanted out of him.
Hisagi was at the door. He snapped, “Fine, then. If you don't know what it is, chances are that I'm not supposed to ask.”
“Your brother's doing fine.”
Hisagi stopped himself at the doorway, his back to Masonry.
“He misses you all, since he won't talk about you. And you're both so stubborn...”
“Really.” Masonry thought he could detect a smirk on the man’s face.
Hisagi pressed a button and the door slid open. “Go. You’re free.”
Masonry resisted the urge to bolt. “I am?”
“It was a small incident. No reason to keep you here. Just... don't do it again.”
“I won't do it...with you around.”
“Who's the stubborn one now.”
Masonry gave him a small smile, but knew better than to offer his hand. “Take care, Hisagi. I'll tell Frost you said hi - or at least I saw you.” Hisagi looked him in the eye, but his face was devoid of emotion, which disturbed Masonry more than being in jail did.
As Masonry almost ran to the elevator, passing the two PPD who stood guard at it, he heard Hisagi mutter, “...right.”
The Zig.
Or, by extension, any jail. Like the one he was in right now.
After they put the handcuffs on him at Independence Port, they brought him to Talos Island to be secured in the jail there. He rode quietly in the police car, believing that if he had to, he could break the handcuffs (not knowing they were made of titanium). He rode quietly on the special train that also carried the Red Maiden and some of her Council cohorts. He was quiet as they brought him into the police station.
There began his panic. They fingerprinted him, but he kept looking at the door. He got his phone call and called Frost, leaving a message on his cellphone’s voice mail. Still, he watched the door, and kept his eye on it even as they brought him downstairs to the cells.
He almost lost it as they locked the door behind him, a solid steel door facing him. He stared at that door, believing, again, he could break through it if he had to (not knowing that it, too, was made of Rikti metal specially made against villains such as Red Maiden). He sat, staring at the door, willing Frost to come and get him.
But another man came instead. “Who’s there?” Masonry asked, his voice on the edge of panic, as he heard the locks being turned. The door opened, and in stepped Hisagi, sealing the door behind him. The two men stared at each other for half a minute before Masonry said, “C’mon man, get me out of here.”
Hisagi stated coldly, “You are alone in here. No reason to complain.”
“I'm in JAIL. There's plenty of reason to complain. What’m I in jail for? I was only trying to help.”
“You could have put people in danger.” He stood with his hands behind his back, as if about to give a lecture. “There's only much I can do to keep a villain at bay by knocking them back. I'd have a hard time once they decide to run other than in my own direction.”
“You kept frustrating her, and she probably would have taken off if she wasn't so determined to kick your ass.” Masonry looked around the cell, his panic starting to grow slightly, but he damped it down hard. “Has Frost come yet?”
“I don't know.”
“You wouldn't not let him bail me out, would you?”
Keen Stronghold made no reply. The panic reared its head for half a second as Masonry pleaded, “C'mon, man...”
Stronghold turned at Masonry’s tone, and he grew even colder as he stated, “I'll just ask you once... don't get in the way. It's not your place to discuss tactics. If you want to do so, join the Police.”
“I wasn't 'in the way' - I was trying to help.” He traced one of the stones on the floor with his foot. “And they probably won't take a convicted felon.”
“Probably not.”
“You pounded her in the last minute - why couldn't you do that before?”
“Certain actions need to be saved for the most appropriate moment. But you wouldn't understand that.”
Masonry rolled his eyes and said, “You're supposed to take them down as soon as you can. Not keep playing with them like you're a cat and they're a mouse.”
“Whatever. I'm not going into it. It's useless.”
“I bet you're sore that you couldn't get her down right off the bat.”
“Excuse me, but I don't follow you.” Stronhold almost growled, “You don't know how my equipment works. How I work with them. Your view of tactics is clearly a totally different thing. We both can tell, right?”
“So they give you stuff to subdue but not to really take them down?”
“It works. That's what matters.”
“I was trying to end the fight, not keep the villain engaged. And I'll get in the way if it's necessary. I was trying to help someone who I thought needed it. You're telling me you had everything under control?”
“Yes, I had. And if you do it again, I'll arrest you again.”
“Well, I'll make a point next time to be sure it won't be you...”
“Besides, of all people... I don't need *your* help.”
“You don't *want* my help. Call a spade a spade, Hisagi.”
“Whatever, Mason. It was unnecessary.”
“Okay, okay. Now will you get me out of here?”
“In proper time. I can't keep you here for long. I just wanted to ask you something. You probably... have an idea already.”
“…no idea.” But then it hit him, just as he muttered the words, what Hisagi probably wanted out of him.
Hisagi was at the door. He snapped, “Fine, then. If you don't know what it is, chances are that I'm not supposed to ask.”
“Your brother's doing fine.”
Hisagi stopped himself at the doorway, his back to Masonry.
“He misses you all, since he won't talk about you. And you're both so stubborn...”
“Really.” Masonry thought he could detect a smirk on the man’s face.
Hisagi pressed a button and the door slid open. “Go. You’re free.”
Masonry resisted the urge to bolt. “I am?”
“It was a small incident. No reason to keep you here. Just... don't do it again.”
“I won't do it...with you around.”
“Who's the stubborn one now.”
Masonry gave him a small smile, but knew better than to offer his hand. “Take care, Hisagi. I'll tell Frost you said hi - or at least I saw you.” Hisagi looked him in the eye, but his face was devoid of emotion, which disturbed Masonry more than being in jail did.
As Masonry almost ran to the elevator, passing the two PPD who stood guard at it, he heard Hisagi mutter, “...right.”
Monday, September 22, 2008
Masonry stepped back with the crowd as the PPD shoved them all away from the bank in Independence Port. Allegedly the villain Red Maiden had taken hostages and broken into the vault, and was expected to make her exit in some violent way.
"Step back," the PPD cop snarled at the crowd.
Masonry milled around with the civilians, watching from the sidelines. Then someone gasped and pointed up - a man lit down in front of the bank.
"Stronghold," someone said.
Masonry gazed at the hero, his hair pulled back into a severe pony tail, making him look more serious than ever. His cape billowed in the sea breeze, as he regarded the bank door.
"He'll get her," said a woman.
"He'll keep her in a bubble and that'll be the end of it," said a man disgustedly.
"Why," asked another man next to him, "looking for some action?"
A man next to Masonry folded his arms across his chest. "Be careful what you wish for," he said quietly.
"Boring," retorted the disgusted man.
"But effective," said Masonry. "He's a cop, not a vigilante."
Just as the disgusted man turned to face him, the doors burst open and a very large woman in red with a hammer and sickle emblazoned on her chest stepped out. Stronghold turned on his own force field in an instant response.
"You vill attempt to stop me," she said loudly.
The man next to him groaned. "Wrong accent," he said. "Russians don't say that..."
Stronghold said nothing as he thrust a bubble at her, knocking her back into the bank. The crowd cheered. The large woman's hands suddenly started to glow and she barreled out of the bank's doors, heading right toward Stronghold. Stronghold's shields held easily. The woman roared and kept pounding at Stronghold. He let loose with a small blast, again, knocking her backwards. This only enraged her further.
"This is going to be really boring, really fast."
Some in the crowd murmured agreement, as the fight progressed to a near stalemate, with the woman getting slightly closer and closer, and Stronghold knocking her away.
"Hell," Masonry said, and stepped back. The crowd moved a little for him. He went to a tree and broke off a large branch, then headed back to the crowd. They parted ways as he stepped forward through the crowd. He glanced at the PPD and broke past him, running into the fray. The PPD cop yelled at him, but he didn't care, this fight needed to end before both of them were weakened.
Masonry slammed Red Maiden across the side of her head with his branch and immediately broke it. Red Maiden turned to look at him. "Ah, a real fight!" she said. She punched at him, and he took the hit to his chest. It was harder than he thought, and knocked the wind out of him. Then another blast of energy came from Stronghold, knocking both of them over. Masonry struggled up first, and looked around for another makeshift mace. Stronghold blasted the woman as she was down, once, twice, and finally she did not get back up.
Masonry smiled at Stronghold, who glared at him fiercely. "Sergeant," he said coldly, "Arrest this man also, for interfering in police business."
In shock, Masonry stared at Stronghold. "Hih...Hisagi..." A PPD cop came up from behind and pulled his arm back. Masonry felt and heard the handcuffs around his wrist. "But..."
Hisagi turned his back on him.
"Step back," the PPD cop snarled at the crowd.
Masonry milled around with the civilians, watching from the sidelines. Then someone gasped and pointed up - a man lit down in front of the bank.
"Stronghold," someone said.
Masonry gazed at the hero, his hair pulled back into a severe pony tail, making him look more serious than ever. His cape billowed in the sea breeze, as he regarded the bank door.
"He'll get her," said a woman.
"He'll keep her in a bubble and that'll be the end of it," said a man disgustedly.
"Why," asked another man next to him, "looking for some action?"
A man next to Masonry folded his arms across his chest. "Be careful what you wish for," he said quietly.
"Boring," retorted the disgusted man.
"But effective," said Masonry. "He's a cop, not a vigilante."
Just as the disgusted man turned to face him, the doors burst open and a very large woman in red with a hammer and sickle emblazoned on her chest stepped out. Stronghold turned on his own force field in an instant response.
"You vill attempt to stop me," she said loudly.
The man next to him groaned. "Wrong accent," he said. "Russians don't say that..."
Stronghold said nothing as he thrust a bubble at her, knocking her back into the bank. The crowd cheered. The large woman's hands suddenly started to glow and she barreled out of the bank's doors, heading right toward Stronghold. Stronghold's shields held easily. The woman roared and kept pounding at Stronghold. He let loose with a small blast, again, knocking her backwards. This only enraged her further.
"This is going to be really boring, really fast."
Some in the crowd murmured agreement, as the fight progressed to a near stalemate, with the woman getting slightly closer and closer, and Stronghold knocking her away.
"Hell," Masonry said, and stepped back. The crowd moved a little for him. He went to a tree and broke off a large branch, then headed back to the crowd. They parted ways as he stepped forward through the crowd. He glanced at the PPD and broke past him, running into the fray. The PPD cop yelled at him, but he didn't care, this fight needed to end before both of them were weakened.
Masonry slammed Red Maiden across the side of her head with his branch and immediately broke it. Red Maiden turned to look at him. "Ah, a real fight!" she said. She punched at him, and he took the hit to his chest. It was harder than he thought, and knocked the wind out of him. Then another blast of energy came from Stronghold, knocking both of them over. Masonry struggled up first, and looked around for another makeshift mace. Stronghold blasted the woman as she was down, once, twice, and finally she did not get back up.
Masonry smiled at Stronghold, who glared at him fiercely. "Sergeant," he said coldly, "Arrest this man also, for interfering in police business."
In shock, Masonry stared at Stronghold. "Hih...Hisagi..." A PPD cop came up from behind and pulled his arm back. Masonry felt and heard the handcuffs around his wrist. "But..."
Hisagi turned his back on him.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Idaho knew better than to walk into the apartment with a "Honey, I'm home!" He knew she wouldn't be there, just like she wasn't for the past few weeks.
He sighed as he shut the door and locked it. It was partially his fault, not being around much anymore. He has his own abilities to work with now, using his fire abilities to heal instead of hurt. He knew that she had darkness about her, similar to Twisted Twilight, and he'd overlooked that, though it made him uncomfortable.
The apartment was four yawning rooms, too big for us now, he thought, now that we're never home. But it was good to have a place to come home to, not to sleep in the D, in one of the abandoned houses at King's Row or at the hostel in the southern end of Steel Canyon. He went into the kitchen area, to look in the probably empty refrigerator to see if there was anything to eat.
As he expected, it was empty except for two tubs of something with white fur and a half gallon of milk that he didn't dare open. He saw the glimpse of a bottle of beer in the way back, but he kept that there as a reminder of what he almost started to do. He almost spent most of his time at the D, almost became a permanent fixture there. That's why he went to Boston, to escape the alcohol and heroing. When he found that Masonry had let Ariel die again, he returned only once, and thought that heroing was no longer his place. So he stayed in Boston and grew addicted to ink instead of booze. It wasn't until Ariel returned to life, that she would hero again under a different guise, that he decided to also return once again and mimic her, by becoming what was known as a fire-user.
He closed the refrigerator, walking across to a cupboard. He thought he heard a noise from the bedroom.
Idaho tilted his head, wondering if he could hear it again. He went to the doorway of the bedroom.
Ariel lay there, tangled in the bedsheets, one stockinged foot sticking out from the bottom of the bed. He looked at her and smiled; she didn't even have time to get her clothes off before collapsing into the bed.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, listening to her light snoring, and he bent down to whisper, "Honey, I'm home."
He sighed as he shut the door and locked it. It was partially his fault, not being around much anymore. He has his own abilities to work with now, using his fire abilities to heal instead of hurt. He knew that she had darkness about her, similar to Twisted Twilight, and he'd overlooked that, though it made him uncomfortable.
The apartment was four yawning rooms, too big for us now, he thought, now that we're never home. But it was good to have a place to come home to, not to sleep in the D, in one of the abandoned houses at King's Row or at the hostel in the southern end of Steel Canyon. He went into the kitchen area, to look in the probably empty refrigerator to see if there was anything to eat.
As he expected, it was empty except for two tubs of something with white fur and a half gallon of milk that he didn't dare open. He saw the glimpse of a bottle of beer in the way back, but he kept that there as a reminder of what he almost started to do. He almost spent most of his time at the D, almost became a permanent fixture there. That's why he went to Boston, to escape the alcohol and heroing. When he found that Masonry had let Ariel die again, he returned only once, and thought that heroing was no longer his place. So he stayed in Boston and grew addicted to ink instead of booze. It wasn't until Ariel returned to life, that she would hero again under a different guise, that he decided to also return once again and mimic her, by becoming what was known as a fire-user.
He closed the refrigerator, walking across to a cupboard. He thought he heard a noise from the bedroom.
Idaho tilted his head, wondering if he could hear it again. He went to the doorway of the bedroom.
Ariel lay there, tangled in the bedsheets, one stockinged foot sticking out from the bottom of the bed. He looked at her and smiled; she didn't even have time to get her clothes off before collapsing into the bed.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, listening to her light snoring, and he bent down to whisper, "Honey, I'm home."
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Powerhouse Jack stared at the bottle before him. It would soon join the four or five bottles littering the floor next to him.
It was Friday night at the D, and no one else seemed to notice the man in the corner of the Tiki bar, where the mask floated over to him and unemotionally asked if he wanted another. Jack could only nod, knowing that if he got off the stool, he would fall down after his feet hit the floor.
It was also three days after Pen had died, and he couldn't get the weight of the man off his shoulders. Men had died in front of him before - while he was in Korea, he wouldn't forget the refugee who stood in line like the rest of them, then suddenly exploded as he approached. He got bits and pieces of the man - and the women and children next to him - landing all around him.
He didn't drink then.
He didn't drink when his wife of twenty years died after a bout with cancer in the 1980's, a wife that he no longer loved.
He didn't drink when he saw another hero friend get paralyzed from the waist down after fighting far too much with the Fifth Column.
Age.
He perked up his head, looking bleary-eyed at the Tiki mask that hovered before him. "What did you say?""Nothing."
He felt someone looking at him and turned around to face nothing. He felt someone very close to him, standing almost on top of him, and he looked in the mirror to see who it was.
His eyes glowed a fiery white, something that hadn't happened in a long, long, time.
"Lodestar," he whispered.
He was filled with a sense of someone hugging him. Jack sunk his head down onto the bar and let his forehead rest on his folded forearms. The sense of the hug slowly filled his entire body, bringing him on the brink of tears. Lodestar had done this a few times before, but never with this much intensity, this much...love.
Soon it ends: you know it, I know it.
"Yeah," Jack said, realizing what Pen had meant to him. An old adversary from an old war, the two had made peace with each other and fought crime together. Pen's death struck him because they were both old war horses, and their end time was getting near. Even though Jack knew his body was being kept alive and strong by his Kheldian bond-mate, he also knew that the body itself was getting old and his Kheldian would need to move on, to find another host soon.
"What will you do, Lodestar?" Jack asked gently.
Die with you.
Jack looked up, facing himself in the mirror, white eyes aflame. "What?"
We are both old.
"Die? We'll both die?" He looked away from the mirror, looking at the Tiki mask but not seeing it.
Age and die together.
He stared at the air. Die? He would die too, go into that final moment, when his life would slip away and...what would happen to him?
Suddenly sober, he raised the bottle and poured another shot. "I'm not ready to die yet," he said, and bolted it back. No, he had too much to do - and the first thing to do was finish this bottle.
It was Friday night at the D, and no one else seemed to notice the man in the corner of the Tiki bar, where the mask floated over to him and unemotionally asked if he wanted another. Jack could only nod, knowing that if he got off the stool, he would fall down after his feet hit the floor.
It was also three days after Pen had died, and he couldn't get the weight of the man off his shoulders. Men had died in front of him before - while he was in Korea, he wouldn't forget the refugee who stood in line like the rest of them, then suddenly exploded as he approached. He got bits and pieces of the man - and the women and children next to him - landing all around him.
He didn't drink then.
He didn't drink when his wife of twenty years died after a bout with cancer in the 1980's, a wife that he no longer loved.
He didn't drink when he saw another hero friend get paralyzed from the waist down after fighting far too much with the Fifth Column.
Age.
He perked up his head, looking bleary-eyed at the Tiki mask that hovered before him. "What did you say?""Nothing."
He felt someone looking at him and turned around to face nothing. He felt someone very close to him, standing almost on top of him, and he looked in the mirror to see who it was.
His eyes glowed a fiery white, something that hadn't happened in a long, long, time.
"Lodestar," he whispered.
He was filled with a sense of someone hugging him. Jack sunk his head down onto the bar and let his forehead rest on his folded forearms. The sense of the hug slowly filled his entire body, bringing him on the brink of tears. Lodestar had done this a few times before, but never with this much intensity, this much...love.
Soon it ends: you know it, I know it.
"Yeah," Jack said, realizing what Pen had meant to him. An old adversary from an old war, the two had made peace with each other and fought crime together. Pen's death struck him because they were both old war horses, and their end time was getting near. Even though Jack knew his body was being kept alive and strong by his Kheldian bond-mate, he also knew that the body itself was getting old and his Kheldian would need to move on, to find another host soon.
"What will you do, Lodestar?" Jack asked gently.
Die with you.
Jack looked up, facing himself in the mirror, white eyes aflame. "What?"
We are both old.
"Die? We'll both die?" He looked away from the mirror, looking at the Tiki mask but not seeing it.
Age and die together.
He stared at the air. Die? He would die too, go into that final moment, when his life would slip away and...what would happen to him?
Suddenly sober, he raised the bottle and poured another shot. "I'm not ready to die yet," he said, and bolted it back. No, he had too much to do - and the first thing to do was finish this bottle.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
"Well, look who's here! Frosty, ol' buddy!"
Frost turned at the voice and stifled a small groan. A black-skinned man, with fragile blue and red wings, stood just slightly behind him.
"What, no hug for me? I'm hurt."
Frost folded his arms across his chest and watched him advance. "Grim," he said quietly.
"Yes! That's my name, don't wear it out. How's it going? How's your boyfriend?"
Some people turned around to look at Frost, but he ignored the looks.
"I miss looking into his big, blue eyes, massaging his big shoulders, rustling his hair, petting his--"
"Did you come here to sell anything?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. But I'm so happy to see you." He walked over and put a comradely arm around Frost's shoulders. Frost immediately shrugged him off, irritated. Grim stepped back, a broad smile on his face. "Aw, Frosty, now I'm really hurt. We queers, we have to stick together, you know."
"I have some work to do," Frost replied, now angry.
"You admit it, Frosty, don't you - "
"My orientation is no one's business but my own," he almost snarled at Grim. Grim's grin grew wider, as he put his hand on Frost's arm.
"Is that your hand on my boyfriend?" came a deep, growling voice from behind Grim, just loud enough for the two men to hear. "Better take it off before I tear off your head."
Frost stepped away, turning to face Masonry who had come up behind them. "Don't, Mase, it's not worth it."
"It would be very worth it," Masonry growled again, his eyes never leaving the back of Grim's neck. "Touch him again and I swear I'll hurt you."
Grim smiled, poked Frost, and folded his arms across his chest. Masonry reached out and grabbed at Grim's neck, but Grim danced away. "Eh eh eh, heroes don't hit heroes at Wentworth's, even when one cheats another." He grinned again at Frost.
Frost bristled at the allegation, while Masonry took another step forward. This time Grim didn't move. "Go ahead, and they'll throw you out faster than when you got out of jail free with a Lodestar on your back."
Masonry stood, his hands clenched at his sides. He noticed one of the Wentworth's employees speak into his headset. He saw Frost's frown, and rocked back on his heels as if physically stopped.
Grim laughed. "He's got you pussy-whipped, doesn't he?"
"I think you'd better leave," Masonry said quietly.
"I got some work to do, first. Just a friendly conversation among friends, aren't we ol' buddy? After all, you did take me on Christmas. I was a sorry substitute for who you really wanted, wasn't I? Did you enjoy it, because I sure as hell didn't." Grim's face slowly lost its smile.
Masonry slowly raised his head, defiance in his eyes. "If you won't leave, then I will." He nodded to Frost and started to leave Wentworth's.
"That's right, walk out!" Grim yelled, attracting some attention. "Now that you got what you wanted, what am I to you, huh?"
Masonry stopped.
"Nothin', right?"
Masonry seemed to nod, and kept right on walking. Frost gazed for a moment at Grim, shook his head, and went back to the markets, leaving Grim standing in the center of Wentworth's, his own darkness oozing out around him.
Frost turned at the voice and stifled a small groan. A black-skinned man, with fragile blue and red wings, stood just slightly behind him.
"What, no hug for me? I'm hurt."
Frost folded his arms across his chest and watched him advance. "Grim," he said quietly.
"Yes! That's my name, don't wear it out. How's it going? How's your boyfriend?"
Some people turned around to look at Frost, but he ignored the looks.
"I miss looking into his big, blue eyes, massaging his big shoulders, rustling his hair, petting his--"
"Did you come here to sell anything?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. But I'm so happy to see you." He walked over and put a comradely arm around Frost's shoulders. Frost immediately shrugged him off, irritated. Grim stepped back, a broad smile on his face. "Aw, Frosty, now I'm really hurt. We queers, we have to stick together, you know."
"I have some work to do," Frost replied, now angry.
"You admit it, Frosty, don't you - "
"My orientation is no one's business but my own," he almost snarled at Grim. Grim's grin grew wider, as he put his hand on Frost's arm.
"Is that your hand on my boyfriend?" came a deep, growling voice from behind Grim, just loud enough for the two men to hear. "Better take it off before I tear off your head."
Frost stepped away, turning to face Masonry who had come up behind them. "Don't, Mase, it's not worth it."
"It would be very worth it," Masonry growled again, his eyes never leaving the back of Grim's neck. "Touch him again and I swear I'll hurt you."
Grim smiled, poked Frost, and folded his arms across his chest. Masonry reached out and grabbed at Grim's neck, but Grim danced away. "Eh eh eh, heroes don't hit heroes at Wentworth's, even when one cheats another." He grinned again at Frost.
Frost bristled at the allegation, while Masonry took another step forward. This time Grim didn't move. "Go ahead, and they'll throw you out faster than when you got out of jail free with a Lodestar on your back."
Masonry stood, his hands clenched at his sides. He noticed one of the Wentworth's employees speak into his headset. He saw Frost's frown, and rocked back on his heels as if physically stopped.
Grim laughed. "He's got you pussy-whipped, doesn't he?"
"I think you'd better leave," Masonry said quietly.
"I got some work to do, first. Just a friendly conversation among friends, aren't we ol' buddy? After all, you did take me on Christmas. I was a sorry substitute for who you really wanted, wasn't I? Did you enjoy it, because I sure as hell didn't." Grim's face slowly lost its smile.
Masonry slowly raised his head, defiance in his eyes. "If you won't leave, then I will." He nodded to Frost and started to leave Wentworth's.
"That's right, walk out!" Grim yelled, attracting some attention. "Now that you got what you wanted, what am I to you, huh?"
Masonry stopped.
"Nothin', right?"
Masonry seemed to nod, and kept right on walking. Frost gazed for a moment at Grim, shook his head, and went back to the markets, leaving Grim standing in the center of Wentworth's, his own darkness oozing out around him.