# groovygamers.com

## secretoracle's Games => Class of 2011 => Topic started by: secretoracle on October 12, 2006, 08:20:49 AM

Title: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: secretoracle on October 12, 2006, 08:20:49 AM This thread is for short fiction about your character, maybe scenes that help set up later elements of the character or help establish who you are. Think of it like the Meanwhile... thread only your write these. Try to make sure they have no major impact on the story and don't require any mechanics to resolve. If you have a question send me a PM. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: thevshi on October 12, 2006, 06:09:57 PM After cheerleading practice, Megan had ridden home with her brother as she often did, but quickly dropped off her books and grabbed her gym bag and left, stating she was going to the country club her family belonged to for a tennis game with Lisa.Â The club wasnâ€™t too far from her parents house and the weather was still nice enough to justify walking.Â Once she reached the club, she made her way over to the clubhouse for the golf course, and located some of the teenage boys that worked there part time as caddies and the like.Â Finding several of them waiting around as there wasnâ€™t a lot of people playing at the moment, Megan went off and quickly changed into her costume. Luckily she had a somewhat concealed path from where she changed to where the caddies tended to hang out as she sped along at good speed.Â A few moments later she came to a halt in front of one of the caddies who stumbled backward at her sudden appearance, tripping over a golf club bag and falling backward.Â Megan looked down at him with a wide smile as she said, â€œhey there, sorry to surprise you like that.Â Iâ€™m Velocityâ€¦incase you didnâ€™t recognize meâ€¦ and I could use your help with something.â€ The boy, who appeared to be about two years or so older than Megan, sat there in stunned disbelief for a moment before scrambling back to his feet.Â â€œWow, its you.Â Yeah, sure, what is it?â€Â He asked, excitement clear in his voice.Â A short while later she was standing in the area behind the main maintenance shed of the club house with a makeshift dummy about thirty feet from her and several buckets of range balls next to her.Â In addition to the boy she had asked for help, two other caddies were there, all waiting in anticipation to see what in the world the teen superhero wanted with a few hundred range balls. Megan looked at the dummy they had put together from various stuff lying around the place.Â Since she had learned that she could throw small objects at high..well, velocityâ€¦and in rapid succession, she had used marbles as a ranged attack.Â But despite a few times where they proved very useful, she overall realized that she sucked at it.Â Though she didnâ€™t particularly plan on getting into fights too often, when she did, the last thing she w anted too do was hurt some bystander or cause some property damage.Â So she knew she needed to practice, and that likely meant a lot of things to throw.Â This seemed like the best idea, other than buying tons of marbles. Looking over at the gathered caddies, she gave them a grin as she said, â€œyou all might want to step back a bit more.â€Â They looked at one another and then took a few steps further back from where they were.Â Figuring they might be far enough away, she looked back at the dummy and went into a blur of motion, snatching up golf balls and flinging them at rapid speed towards the target.Â Several went wide, but then a few hit at high speed, ricocheting off the makeshift dummy in all directions.Â One of the ricochets whizzed past the caddies, causing them to duck away.Â â€œHoly shit!â€Â One of them cried out as they move further back as Megan continued her target practice. Just over a minute later the baskets were empty and several hundred golf balls were scattered all over the area.Â The caddies moved back closer once the barrage had ended, looking around in amazement.Â â€œWow, what a mess, it will take forever to clean all this up!â€Â One of them said.Â Megan gave them a smile.Â â€œYou think I was just going to stick you with cleaning up my mess?â€Â She went into a blur of motion, moving all over the area at high speed as she picked up the golf balls and placed them back into the buckets, save for a few dozen that had flow off into the nearby woods or elsewhere.Â Stopping back where she had been standing for her target practice, nearly full buckets sitting in front of her once more.Â â€œBesides,â€ she said, â€œI am not quite done yet.â€ After about twenty minutes, and about four more cycles of buckets of golf balls, Megan figured she had likely gotten a good bit of practice in for today.Â Cleaning up the golf balls once more, she thanked the caddies and told them she would likely be back next week and was the zooming off to change and then head back home. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: thevshi on October 15, 2006, 11:51:37 AM (ooc, well, have been a bit bored with nothing to post here, so figured I would do another little bit of story related fiction, this one relating to something Oracle raised in the thread that Megan went to the charity dinner with her parents. With the discussion of legislation for paranormal registration, I am sure memos like this would be produced by the dozens, if not hundreds. The state senator is the real one for the 39th district, which includes Oak Park. :) The intern is fictional. Also, if I were really working up an opinion such as this, there would be lots of citations to cases and the like, didnâ€™t have the time or inclination to do that here. For what itâ€™s worth, I got an A+ in my Constitutional Law course last Spring, and the major essay question, worth 1/3 of the grade for the test, was all about Equal Protection :)) Memorandum To: Senator Don Harmon, Illinois State Senator for the 39th District From: Jenifer Smith, Intern Date: October 14th, 2007 Subject: Constitutionality of proposed paranormal registration act. Question Presented Would the proposed legislation designed to require individuals possessing paranormal abilities to register with the state be found constitutional under the United States Constitution? Brief Answer The proposed legislation would most likely be found to be unconstitutional under either the Equal Protection Clause or the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment of the United States Constitution. Analysis There are two primary means of attacking the proposed legislation as being unconstitutional under the U.S. Constitution, through the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment or as a violation of Substantive Due Process under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. A. Equal Protection Clause 1. Level of Scrutiny The first issue involved in examining whether the proposed legislation would fail under the Equal Protection Clause is determining what standard of review a court would apply in examining a law containing a classification as contained within the proposed legislation. Ultimately, the court will be asking if the classification the state is making with the law is one that is â€œsuspectâ€. The answer to this can lead to a standard or review that ranges from strict scrutiny to intermediate scrutiny and finally to the use of a rational basis test. Strict Scrutiny is used by the courts in examining laws that contain the most â€œsuspectâ€ classifications, most prominent being racial classifications or alienage classifications. To survive an analysis under strict scrutiny, the state must show that the law is one of compelling state interest and that it uses a narrowly tailored means to achieve that interest. To be found narrowly tailored, the law must be show to be the least restrictive means available and that there exists a tight fit between the means used to reach the desired end. Intermediate Scrutiny was developed but the U.S. Supreme Court in Craig v. Borren as a means of examining laws that made classifications based upon gender. Under this level of scrutiny, the state is required to show that the questioned law is one of important state interest and that the means used is â€œsubstantially relatedâ€ to that important state interest. The Rational Basis Test is the final standard of review, and by far the most lax. It requires only that the law be a legitimate one and that the means used be rationally related to the ends. The proposed legislation would classify individuals based upon their either possessing paranormal abilities or not possessing such abilities. When determining what standard of review should be granted to a classification, the U.S. Supreme Court has looked for immutable differences between existing classifications in a standard of review and the new classification being considered. Race, as a characteristic that is usually easy to determine upon casual observation, is the key classification for comparison for strict scrutiny. Where there are some paranormals that posses physical characteristics that make them easily identifiable, the majority are not so readily apparent. Individuals also have been historically oppressed based upon race in this country, while paranormals do not have as extensive a history of such oppression. Thus, it is unlikely that a court would find classification of paranormals rising to the level to require strict scrutiny. Looking at the classification of paranormals, it appears much more likely that a court would find such a law subject to intermediate scrutiny. While the classification may not have the longstanding historical discrimination that race and gender (women) has, there are characteristics of the class that would give rise to this level of review. Like sex, paranormal classification is based on biological differences. Demographically, they are generally a insular minority, though often indistinguishable from other classifications they might fall under as well (race or gender). Given their relatively low numbers as part of the general population, they would be considered historically under-represented in the political process. All of these reasons would strongly suggest that a classification based on paranormal abilities would be subject to intermediate scrutiny. 2. Important Governmental Objective The first issue raised under intermediate scrutiny is whether the proposed legislation involves an important governmental objective. The law would require all individuals possessing paranormal abilities within the state to register with the state as to the nature of their abilities and information on them. Many paranormals possess abilities that can be extremely dangerous to other if misused, in many instances even more dangerous than firearms or other dangerous weapons that require permits and registration to possess. Such registration is designed to help in promoting public safety, clearly an important state objective. 2. Substantially Related Means? The next question under intermediate scrutiny is if the law contains means that are substantially related to achieving the important government objective the law seeks to achieve. One of the primary tests for determining if the means are substantially related to the ends is to examine how much the law may be over inclusive or under inclusive in its application. The proposed legislation seeks to improve public safety by requiring those with paranormal abilities to register with the state in order to help prevent or deter paranormal crimes, or have an ability to potentially match paranormal crimes committed to those possessing powers used in such paranormal crimes. This law is both over inclusive and under inclusive in its application. The proposed law would be over inclusive because it seeks to deal with paranormal crimes, but would require the registration of those who will never commit a paranormal crime, even if the registration requirement did not exist. There are paranormals that possess abilities that are of such a nature that they could never be used to commit a crime, but the legislation would require them still to register. Even should the law be written to only require registration of those possessing dangerous paranormal powers, it would require registration of individuals that would never use their powers precisely because they are so dangerous. The proposed law also suffers serious problems with being under inclusive. The clearest of these is that those that would be inclined to use their paranormal abilities to commit crimes are not likely to be inclined to register their abilities voluntarily. Thus one of the main objectives of the law would fail, for it would miss those it is most seeking to oversee. Additionally, the law would not reach some other forms of paranormal crime. The recent spread of new designer drugs such as â€œsupermanâ€ and others that bestow individuals with paranormal powers temporarily and which has been used by some individuals to then commit crimes, would not be reached by this law. Given the fact the under and over inclusiveness of the proposed legislation, it is unlike that a court would find it is sufficiently structured to meet the important governmental objective and would thus most likely be found unconstitutional under the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. B. Due Process Clause The second potential attack on the constitutionality of the proposed legislation would be under the Substantive Due Process Doctrine that has developed under the line of cases that includes Lawrence v. Texas. This doctrine looks at whether a law is in violation of a fundamental liberty or right in determining the standard of review to use to determine the constitutionality of the law in question. Laws challenged under this doctrine are reviewed under either strict scrutiny or the rational basis test. Strict scrutiny will be triggered under the Substantive Due Process Doctrine when a law involves, or is alleged to involve, a fundamental liberty or right. As under Equal Protection claims, the state will need to show a compelling state interest in the law and that the means used has been narrowly tailored (least restrictive means available) to achieve the desired end. If the law in question is found to involve non-fundamental rights, the it will be reviewed by a court under the rational basis test. Then the state will only need to show that it posses a legitimate state interest and that the means are rationally related to the ends. The most likely way to challenge the proposed legislation under the Substantive Due Process Doctrine would be to claim it violates the Right to Privacy as established under Griswold v. Connecticut and the related line of cases as protected under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. The Right to Privacy is a fundamental right, and thus would draw strict scrutiny. Examined under strict scrutiny, it is most likely that the state would be able to show that seeking to prevent paranormal crimes is a compelling state interest, but it would most likely fail to show that the law is narrowly tailored to meet that end. To be considered narrowly tailored, the law must use the least restrictive means possible. The over inclusive/under inclusive examination discussed above under Equal Protection would be made as well, and would, as there, show the law was not narrowly tailored to meet its objective. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: cassbackward on October 16, 2006, 02:13:47 PM I'm a little too logorrheic to post my work on the forum, and I like not to have to worry that my foul language and appreciation for the grotesque will taint the family-friendly boards. Thus, when I wrote my little entry for this topic, I put it on Bang And Whimper, my GG blog. Check it out: Chimera (http://bangwhimper.blogspot.com/2006/10/chimera.html) - Sylvia saves herself. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on October 22, 2006, 09:20:07 PM Sarah stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. There were a few old stickers of Disney heroines. She couldn't help staring at Milan. "AhnZhanti High Lightning. Protector. Super Hero. Highschool Freshman. Me. Who am I? What am I? What's happened to me? This is everything and nothing that I've ever wanted. I always thought having a power would be cool. I guess I always dreamed of a small power. A toy to impress people with at parties. Oh I dreamed big sometimes. Dreamed of lifting battleships with my mind and tossing villains around like dolls. But really I just wanted a power to show that I was special in some small way. Sure she's no good in school, no talents, no artistic abilities but she can fly or move a few books around with her mind or turn invisible." Sarah lowered rolled to the edge of her bed and sat up. She looked down at her hands and with a thought summoned her staff. It hummed softly to itself. She waved it around a little and suddenly shook her hands like there was some nasty go on them and the staff disappeared as if it never was. Sarah wiped her hands over the sheets of her bed trying to make the feel of the staff disappear. "So I can magic up a stick and whack people with it and block stuff but I'm no fighter. Maybe I'm supposed to be. Maybe I should start practicing with Kel. He's spent the last few days fighting off Ninjas." Her eyes wander the room lost, staring without recognition at the clutter and junk accumulated over a lifetime. "What's it all for? What should I tell Mom and Dad? Or even Mart? That wonderful little dope will probably start throwing himself off buildings to prove he can fly. I mean more than he has in the past. He might get himself really hurt. More hurt than usual anyway. Why do I even have this power? I wish... no... wishing is what got me into this mess in the first place. Foolish wishing for some power to call my own and now I have it and buyer beware. But I wish sometimes I could forget I had it. If everyone could forget I had this power." "Forget. Forget. Forget...." Mart shuffles across the hall from his room and knocks. Despite their pact to be rude to each other in public they were usually pretty civil to each other most of the time. "Hey Sar.. sup?" Sarah shrugs, "Oh you know, teenage angst and suffering. Stuff the music on the radio is always whining about." Mart shudders a bit, "Yeah, I'm totally looking forward to that. So you want to come skateboarding with me?" Sarah looks at Mart quizzically at the question. Her skateboarding was on par with her math skills, poor but passing. Her little brother soon clarifies the situation, "Mom says I need a chaperone for a week because I can't be trusted to consider my own safety. Dad told me not to try any new stuff for at least a month." Sarah grins at that, "Well your cast just came off Mart. You know how Mom and Dad are with the 'Throwing good money after bad'. If you break that arm again they're just gonna leave it that way so you learn your lesson. Or worse they'll take away your bike and skateboard for a month or two." Mart looks seriously worried about that, "They can't do that. It's against the Geneva Convention or something! Child abuse!" Sarah rolls her eyes at her little brother, "Oh please. You're so dramatic. I'll go with you. If I don't take off soon Dad will be up here telling me I need some fresh air anyway or start asking me about boys or some other horrible thing." Mart brightens up at that, "So... you owe me for getting you out of the house!" Sarah shakes her head, "No Mart you owe me because otherwise Mom will go with you to the skate park and hover over you the whole time with your friends snickering." Mart nods and shrugs, "Okay I owe you. What do you want?" Sarah smiles, "Nothing yet. I'll save it for later. It'll be a big one but don't worry you wont have to do anything terrible like chores." ----------------------------------------------------------- At the skate park Sarah half watches Mart and his gang of hoodlums who only half hate it when she tells them they're all so cute in their little skater gear. She gives Mart a soppy kiss on the head before she walks off to curl up on the grass nearby followed by the curses of her little brother. Sarah returns to her introspection. "I'd need someone with real power to make me forget I had one. To make everyone forget. I don't even know if it would work on Colin. He's got some strong abilities brewing inside him I think. He's the one I wish really didn't know." Mart soars through her peripheral vision for a moment trying to pull a move from one of his skater video games. Sadly gravity still exists in the real world and he goes tumbling down a ramp. A faint, "Nothing broken," reassures her that he's not being too foolish. "This is all so stupid. I'm so freaking contrary about everything. I want powers. I get powers so now I don't want them. Stupid. I want a relationship. I get a relationship so now I don't want one. Double stupid. I can't be content with anything in my life." She spends time tearing at the weeds around her, decimating their number for a brief time. "Are you the gardener?" A gentle voice asks over her shoulder. Sarah turns and looks up into the sun to see a shadowy figure standing nearby. He steps out of the sun and moves around to her side so she's not blinded. It's an old man, probably her dad's age. Probably one of the dads of the kids down there. "No. Just pulling weeds. Probably going to find the only patch of poison ivy in the entire town too." He sits a few feet off on the grass. "I'm Thomas," he offers. "Sarah." "Nice to meet you Sarah. You got a little brother or sister down in that pack? A boyfriend?" Thomas asks. "My little brother. He's the one with the orange helmet with crash dummy stickers on the sides." Thomas nods, "Yes, he's pretty good. Doesn't seem to be afraid of much." "Nope. He's had more broken bones than birthday parties." Sarah replied watching as Mart shot through a low tunnel and then skipped his board up to slide on a rail. "I know the type. So you're not a skater? You look like you're in shape. You must get some exercise. Track?" "Nope." "Tennis?" "Nope." "Football?" Sarah glances to see if Thomas is serious and sees that he's grinning. "Nope." "You're not very forthcoming you know." "Nope." "I see. That's fine." Thomas says. They sit quietly for a few minutes. "Soccer?" "Nuh-uh. Okay I used to do some gymnastics. I still do every once in a while." "A gymnast huh? That's pretty serious stuff." "Yeah, I haven't been feeling much up for anything serious for a long time." Thomas nods as if he understands the sentiment. A few minutes more and he stands up and stretches. "Well I need a cup of coffee. Can I get you one Sarah?" "Huh? Um...no thanks," Sarah replies with courtesy and a bit of shyness to strangers. "I don't mind really. Consider it a trade if you can keep an eye on things here while I'm gone." Thomas grins. "I'm going to be snoring on the grass if I don't get some and two is as easy as one. Sarah shrugs, "Okay sure. Plenty of milk and four sugars?" Thomas gives a mock shudder. "Teenagers and their coffee abuse." He heads up to the cars on the hill and Sarah turns her attention back to the boarders below. Some time later Thomas returns with big brand coffee steaming slightly from beneath the lids. "Any major accidents while I was gone?" "No sir. Traffic has been smooth. One near collision but it turned out it was intentional." Sarah takes the offered coffee and has a sip. The caffeine eases her soul and seems to relax her shoulders. "Thanks." "My pleasure." The two drink their coffees in companionable silence for a few minutes. Sarah yawns a little. The caffeine takes a while to kick in and the sun shining down on her is making her feel lazy. "So what else do you do now instead of gymnastics Sarah?" "Oh.... you know, usual teenager stuff. Crying over nothing, laughing at everything and fighting magically conjured creatures," she offers in a casual tone. Oh crap! What did I just say? She giggles and covers her mouth because the thought of revealing her secrets seems so ridiculous just now. "You play those fantasy video games or Dungeons and Dragons or something?" Thomas asks mistaking her comment. "Yes that too." Sarah answers with another giggle. She yawns again and lays back on the grass that suddenly feels like a back scratcher. She wriggles on it for a minute letting the greenery fix an itch. The sun is so warm. She feels a bit like a kid again and thinking that, kicks of her shoes and rubs her toes through the grass and dirt as well. "You seem kind of tired yourself Sarah. You'd better drink some more coffee and wake up," Thomas says. Sarah blinks... slowly realizing she is half asleep. "Oh! You're right." She sits up slowly and finds her coffee nearby and takes another long drink. The world starts to swirl a little bit. "Oh no..." she says. "Is something wrong Sarah? Are you okay?" asks Thomas. "Should I get your brother?" Sarah shakes her head. It feels like it takes five minutes just to accomplish the small task. "Nnoo... no. I'm okay. I think I'm still just a little s-sick from the other day." replies Sarah. "Should we take you home or to the doctor? Let's get you into the car and I'll get your brother." "...kay." With the help of strong hands Sarah is guided into the backseat of an old car. A Lincoln or an Oldsmobile or something equally terrible. She rests her head on the warm leather seat and closes her eyes hearing the door shut. --------------------- ".........sarah......" "..sarah.." "...Sarah!" The dim voice comes from somewhere far far away and in her mind she realizes it's Morpheus and the thought of Laurence Fishburne calling out so urgently sends her giggling again. "Sarah! This isn't a dream. You are in danger. You have to get moving. Now!" calls Morpheus. "Listen... listen I'm not Nemo.. uh Nero, Tivo," she snaps her fingers,"Neo! So leave me alone I'm trying to sleep." "There is a man out there who means you no good. He's going to harm you and if you don't wake up now you may never again." "No, I'm going home. He's getting my brother and then we're going home. I'm still sick." "You're not sick. You're drugged." "What?" "You are drugged. Thats why you're lying on the backseat of a strangers car." The words stranger and drugged seem to clear Sarah's head a bit and she opens her eyes for a moment. She realizes she is in a moving car and her brother is nowhere in sight. Her eyelids sink shut again. "Oh." is all she can think in response. "Now you see. Are you awake?" Morpheus asks. "I'm awake. I can barely move but I only have to touch him." Silence is her only answer and she opens her eyes once more. She'd been seatbelted and a blanket put over her shoulders. Thomas is driving and smiling a soft smile to himself. Suddenly he doesn't seem nearly so nice â€œHeâ€™s in a meeting? Tell Mr. Hollander that I will meet him in the usual place. I have an interesting package for him.â€ said Thomas followed by a soft beep of a cellphone hanging up. Her grasp on consciousness is flimsy at best and she stares at her hands, willing them to move. WIlling her staff to appear. Nothing. She pleads in her mind, begging it to work. Maybe she'd been dreaming everything before. A long dream, just hiding her reality of this abduction from herself. No! It was real. All of it. Good and bad. She demanded her brain work the right way and finally the staff came forth. It's glowing light shooting in both direction, one way into the side of the car door and the other end sliding straight into the back of Thomas' head. He cried out in pain and surprise and the car lurched right, slamming into something before swinging left again. Her staff slid down through his body and he shuddered once more and the car hit something on their left. There was another hard thump and Thomas' head smacked the side window. Sarah lost her grip. The staff disappeared and she closed her eyes as the car started to tumble. There was a final thump mixed with scraping and scratching noises and the car lurched to a stop. The glass was broken but she wasn't cut up. The car was pointing down into a gulley. There were trees all around. Where am I? She unlocked her seatbelt and pushed on the door. It opened an inch before getting stuck. She shrugged and rolled down the window letting the last jagged shard disappear beneath the lip of the frame. Sarah slid out of the car and looked around her. She heard sirens in the distance. She heard a big road nearby with lots of cars. She saw smoke coming from over the hill and through the brush she could make out a handful of people staring down towards her. A man was making his way over the side of the rail and coming down a hill. Do I really want to explain this? I'll need to or this bastard will just grab some other girl. Sarah circled the car and when she came around to the drivers door she realized she didn't have to wait. The sight... Sarah ran and was a hundred feet away before she threw up into the bushes. She retched for a minute before taking off again. She jogged through the woods, staying out of sight as long as she could. She was wondering where she was when she kicked something white with her foot. A golf ball went sailing ahead of her to thunk into another tree. Golfcourse. Which one? She made her way through the woods until she came to a clearing near a baseball diamond. There was a practice going on and she wandered into the crowd. Sarah asked a few people what the address for the park was. Twenty minutes later an always faithful Dave pulled up in the VanGo. She hugged him and fastened herself into the front passenger seat. He asked what she was doing so far out but she just shrugged. "I'll have to tell you about it some other time okay?" Dave nodded and drove. He'd gotten pretty good at keeping a lot of secrets lately. One more wasn't much of a big deal. Sarah stared out the window and smiled when they pulled into the park where her brother was just pulling off his helmet. Mart comes walking up to the van. "Some chaperone you are! You disappeared half an hour ago!" Sarah just smiles, "Hey I got us a ride home so don't complain." Dave pulls open the back of of the van and Mart hops in with a quick thanks. At the house, Mart runs inside with another thanks to Dave. Dave asks Sarah one last time. "Are you sure you're okay?" Sarah smiles to Dave and paraphrases, "Hey I'm a superhero. What could happen?" Dave nods and waves goodbye as he returns to his regularly scheduled activities. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: BaboonBill on October 24, 2006, 06:25:32 PM Donald Andrew Douglas, the third, was also known as Abrax, the Tauren Druid on World of Warcraft. Abrax was once a raid leader for his guild (Dark Side of the Moon-usually called Dark Siders) but had recently been booted from the raid leader position. Donnie expected this, since he had been spending so much time away from the game. He had been doing his magical research to find the Witch Coven that had been plaguing the school and his friends and had been lagging in his Guild-role. He was dreading logging in to hear the angry cry of his guild. "Dude where the hell have you been?" Maybe I should just let my subscription run out. I have a lot on my plate already.. He got off the bus and trudged up the street to his parent's house, looking with interest in the huge hole dug in the ground in the lot two down from his parent's place. Looks like they finally sold it to some sucker. The back yard was pie shaped and crappy: down hill and likely to be muddy as hell when the rains came. he went over to the edge, looking down into the cavernous pit, like the maw of some ancient barrow ripped open, it's treasures plunderde. The line stuck in his head and he thought That might make a good opening story-line. He walked up the driveway, waving at the guys doing the yardwork. While his mom was perfectly capable of doing yardwork, her opinion now was 'If you have the money to pay someone else to do it, why do it yourself?'. The lawn was perfect: green and luscious as can be in the unusually warm late summer weather. Late-blooming flowers lined the spacious front porch, setting off the rich red and tan brickwork of the front facade. The front porch had an amish-made wooden swing hanging from the panelled porch-top, swaying slightly in the breeze. His mom had purchased it on one of her two day shopping trips out to the country. Unlocking front door, he listened, but it was silent but for the sound of the lawnmower outside. He closed the door, locking it concientiously and wandered to the cold kitchen, its black, white, and silver motive making him shiver as usual. This place feels like a hospital. Not that I have spent much time in the hospital. Donnie had been in one once, three years ago when gran died. The smell of disenfectant, unearthly cleanliness, and old people filled his memory, and he wrinkled his nose. The fridge was bare but for the usual: trendy health food crap for his mom, the weekly roast in its tied butcher paper, and racks of various diet sodas. He pushed past a seaweed and fennel soy drink to the milk and poured himself a cup, checking the date. There had been several times he had went to get a cup and found it soured. His mother's mind sometimes forgets stuff like that. He kicked off his shoes and went into the living room setting down his milk on the latest copy of Home and Gardens. HA! Like she reads this. He flipped through the 374 stations on the HD widescreen tv twice, but found nothing of interest. He noted his dad had renewed the porn channels, and it would be another week or so before his mom noticed and raised a scream-fit about it. He turned off the televison and went upstairs to his room. AS he walked in, tossing his bookbag on the bed, he felt his shoulders unknot, looking around at the hundreds of posters, printed illustrations, and fanboy stuff he had all over the walls. This is home. Not out there, that's my parent's house. He put away the clean clothes his mom had left on the bed and sat down in front of the computer, flipping on the monitor. He checked the three torrents of downloads for the latest episodes of his favorite shows and clicked a few buttons, burning a copy of the last week of Justice League World for Matt. He'd appreciate it. Checking his mail, he dumped the New Personal Message Has Arrived notifications for the Dark Sider's Guild page and opened the one from Ryan Coffee, his pen-pal from Miskatonic U. Don, he read, for he was 'Don' to this guy, I have run the calculations on the binding spell you wrote me about and it concerns me. Why do you have need for such a spell? I won't continue to work with you if you are developing spells to attack people. I saw you had the tract in section 2 where you uitilize the target's blood as an anchor for the spell. What is this about? Have you done something to get this person's blood? Write me back, I am really concerned you are going to do something stupid. Yours, Ryan. Donnie scowled. If Ryan knew he was not a freshman at Chicago State, but a freshman in highschool, he'd likely flip his lid. The stuff they were collaborating on was at least second-degree college work. He read through the latest calculations and wordings of the binding spell, and reviewed the complex synergistic power-sharing spell Ryan was working on, just barely understanding it. He did notice one syntax aerror, and pointed it out in his return letter. Oh, and Ryan, it is a case of a local Witches' coven casting spells on local students and feeding off the energy produced. Don't worry; much of this is hypothetical, based off an incident I read about that happened in the late 90's at a local high school. Lie Lie Lie. Thinking about the feeding thing gave him an idea and he made a note to call TJ and ask him about the substance that Sylvia had secured for him from that kid's locker. The 'Love Juice'. Maybe it was connected to the witches. He looked at the clock and knew Mom would be home anytime. Avoiding thinking about Pip, he concentrated for an hour on homework, sipping a coke from the mini-fridge he kept in his room. His mom's voice summoned him downstairs. Mmm. Chinese. Dad had bought dinner again, which was better than the crud his mother tried to make. She was a terrible cook. He walked into the kitchen, hearing the clink of the glass stir against Mikasa crystal. His mom was over at the bar, mixing her drink as usual. Donald Douglas the Second was a handsome man, his sandy hair flecked with silver and was usually clean-shaven. He smiled at Donnie as he loaded his plate up with shrimp lo-mein. "Heya kid. Got you the Hunan Pork, extra spicy." Donnie sat down across from him and pulled the tin pan forward, letting the steam cover his face and bring tears to his eyes from the spiciness. "You make me cry with happiness dad." His father smiled again "Wussy." They shared another smile before Donnie's mother broke in to ruin the moment. "Donald, he shouldn't have that. His skin will break out and the sauces are just filled with msg. I can't even fathom how bad it messes up his ph balance. You should have asked me first." "Jesus, Mary. Can't the kid eat in peace? I got you your white rice and plain vegetables as usual." He scowled and shoved a couple of cardboard boxes her direction. "Donald, he does not have your metabolism, nor mine for some reason. He can't eat this crap and lose weight. Lord knows he needs to lose a few pounds if he wants to date that Sylvia girl. She was cheerleader material, if anything." Goddammit, mom, can't you rub it in a bit more that I'm not your perfect son? Donald looks at Donnie and waggles his eyebrows. "Nice. Too bad I didn't get to meet her. You going to go out again, slugger?" Donnie blushes. "Well, we do eat lunch together with the rest of my friends every day." "Atta boy." Donnie both hates and relishes his relationship with his dad. He treats his son like he was his best pal, calling him nicknames, roughing his hair, but he was never there. When he was home he was usually watching television, working late on his computer, or arguing with mom. Donnie had very few memories of playing with his dad. The baseball, glove and bat he bought Donnie when he was 11 were still unused, sitting in his closet upstairs. Mary Douglas sits down after mixing her second drink and starts poking at the vegetables with her fork. Donnie's dad was eating with gusto, having mastered the chopsticks years ago. Donnie was still working on it. Donald's cellphone rang, and everyone froze. He bit off the noodles hanging from his mouth and wiped it with the egyptian linen napkin. "Be right back." He stood up and went into the kitchen answering the phone. "Probably his 'secretary' again" Donnie mutters, but falls silent at the murderous glare his mother sends at him. She shoves the plate away and refreshes her drink, looking out the back porch into the setting sun. Donald's voice could be heard murmuring from the kitchen. Donnie's appetite wanes as he sees his father coming back out of the kitchen, redoing his tie. The look on his father's face was carefully neutral. "I have to go back in. Some problem with the Singapore upload is causing the servers to dump data. I have to smooth over our Singapore bank managers. I may be late." Mary harumphs and doesn't respond. Donald quickly boxes up his dinner, putting it back in the bag and grabs his briefcase. "See you later, sluggo." He ruffles Donnie's hair, as if he were still five and walks out to the garage, dinner and case in hand. His whistling can be heard as he gets into the Lexus. Donnie closes his container and tries to talk to his mom. "Mom-" "Not now, Donnie. Go do your homework." It's already done. I am not ten anymore But he nods his head and gathers up his dinner to take to his room. He hears the clink of the glass stir again before he reaches the top of the stairs. In his room, he opened the canister and concentrated for a moment. Pip was suddenly there, and he curled himself around Donnie;s neck. Donnie breathed deep of the hot reptile smell, suddenly fighting back tears. Pip thrummed deep in his little chest, wrapping his wings around Donnie's head. They stood there for a moment, each taking comfort in the other. Donnie sighed, and Pip popped his head up, scenting the air. "Yeah. It's on the fridge." The little dragon eeped with pleasure and glided over to the minifridge, burying his head into the box of rice and Hunan pork. Donnie sat on his bed and watched his friends gobble it down. He had a small smile on his face, and thinking I have friends and we do amazing things. I have a dragon companion, a familiar. If I survive freshman year without getting my head bashed in or ensorcelled, and if my parents don't kill each other, or my dragon eats me out of house and home, I will be amazed. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: Doc on October 25, 2006, 10:22:28 AM Friday October the 5th, 2007. 2:45 AM. Colin checks another time if he has taken everything he needs. In the afternoon, as he laid out his plan, he made a list, gathered most of the stuff he thought he would need, and hid it under his bed. This is important and he doesn't want to make mistakes, so he leaves only when he's sure everything is in his backpack. He quickly leaves a message for his mom, in case she wakes up and finds out he's not at home. He puts on a heavy jacket, and takes a bonnet and a pair gloves, since outside the sky is starry and bright, just as he wished it would be, but the wind is quite cold, and the place he chose a little far. He sneaks out of the apartment with his hiking boots in his hands, closes the door as quietly as he could, and tiptoes downstairs listening to every smallest noise, every little creak of the old house amplified by his fear to get caught and his guilt at leaving this way. He considered alternatives that didn't require this level of furtivity, but he really felt he could not wait any longer. That place feels just right to him, only he needs the night too, and to be alone. The most difficult part is done, tough. Mama Walters doesn't sleep much, but when she does, not even bombs can wake her up. He just takes his bike, opens the main door, and slips into the night. He stops on the step outside to tie his boots and sigh in relief, than takes in the brisk air of the night. Oak Park seems new, exciting and scary. It's totally different from when he goes through the paper route in the morning. That is some sort friendly loneliness, and the quick, polite greetings of those that wake up even earlier than him. Now the people might be all asleep, but the city is still wide awake, and Colin can feel its inquisitive eyes upon him. This is one of the reasons he has to go out. Maybe with practice he could learn to ignore its stare, but tonight he needs freedom. As he starts to cycle away, he notices the blackbird perched upon a streetlamp. As he passes under it, the bird spreads his wings and follows him. Colin can't see him anymore in the dark, but he feels his silent presence, and is grateful. He goes west, straight west, to River Forest and the Thatcher Woods. It's only a couple miles if one sticks to the main streets, but Colin decides not to take the risk. If a patrol car noticed him and stopped him, he would have a hard time explaining what he's doing outside alone so late. They would escort him home, and he doesn't want to embarass his mother and Chris. He just hopes that the bonnet and the high collar of his jacket are enough to conceal his age, keeps on secondary streets, and cycles with his lamp off. The blackbird suddenly dives in front of him and takes a sharp turn left. Colin follows him in surprise, just in time to be missed by a patrolling car that turned into his street. He silently thanks his winged friend. When he leaves the streets for the mountain bike trail into the woods, Colin finally begins to feel better. He has come to love this trail, it's not far from home but wild enough to make you forget all about the city. He turns on the bike's lamp, he needs it now, and enters the woods more and more until he finds a fallen tree, just across the trail. That's where he planned to leave the bike. He dismounts, lays the bike down and takes a flash light out of his back pack. The forest muffles all the urban noises, and he can hear the Des Moines river gurgling not a hundred of feet away, the owls crying and all those little creepy sounds that are bound to make the hair on the back of your head stand up whenever you're alone in the dark in the wilderness. Actually though, the loudest noise is that of his steps on the fallen leaves. He frowns, because it makes him feel like he's intruding, and makes him wish to be able to apologize with the forest. His memory guides him to a clearing, from where he can finally look at the sky. He gets out a blanket and lays it out on the oak leaves mattress on the ground. He lies on it, to better look upwards. The sky is really beautiful tonight. The stars are shining bright as they always do when the wind cleans and chills the air, and a small crescent of moon is just rising above the trees to the east. Colin sees the shape of the blackbird fly above him and roost on a nearby tree. He looks at the stars, trying to find the constellations he learned of with the scouts. He recognizes Cassiopeia, the african queen, Orion, the hunter, the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, and Draco, the dragon, uncoiling between them. It never really looked like a dragon to him, though. It looks more like... Colin suddenly shudders as a long forgotten memory replays itself in his mind. Black. At night the sea looked black, shiny black ink, but it still smelled like sea. The wind blowed just enough to ruffle his hair, and Colin closed his eyes to feel it on his skin. Mom had made him wear a bright red jacket, that felt like it was full of sponges under his little fingers. She said that if he fell into the water, it would make him float like his bath toys. He wanted to try it at once, but she said that the water was too cold. But then what was the jacket for? Mom sometimes was no fun. "Daddy?" he called out. "Dad, you promised me a story." He heard some noise from the belly of the boat, and then mom and daddy laugh. Dad went down some minutes before saying he had to help mom with something, and as they came back up they looked like they had just told each other a funny secret. Dad looked at mom for a moment than ran to Colin, grabbed him and lifted him up in the air as the five-year-old boy flailed around and squealed in delight. Jonathan played with Colin a bit then hoisted him up and took him on his shoulders, with his legs around the neck. Colin loved when Dad took him up there. He felt like a giant, like a knight on his mighty horse. Dad's skin was almost brown in the dark. Colin's skin has always been lighter than dad's and redder than mom's. He always liked to put their arms together and show them. Colin opened his arms as if he was flying, and mom laughed. Mom laughed better than anyone else. No one could resist laughing when mom started, she was too good at that. "So our little sailor wants to hear a story, huh? A story about what?" "A story about the stars!" Colin said, looking at the sky above. "A story about stars... uhm I think I have the right story for you, but I'll need your finger." Dad takes Colin's left index finger, and uses it to draw lines in the air to connect a bunch of stars, near the little Dipper. "Those stars are the Wakinyan, the Thunderbird. You see? These are the wings, the head, and the tail. Once upon a time, the land and the water were full of monsters. They were called the Unktehila, and they were huge like dinosaurs. They were all covered in scales and had long tails and lots and lots of pointed teeth. Some of them looked like serpents, over a hundred of feet long, like three times our boat. Some instead had legs like a lizard and many horns on their heads. There were a lot of them, and they were always hungry, so they spent the time eating each other and everything else they could find around." Colin's eyes were full of visions about huge monsters roaring challenges to each other and fighting epic battles that made the earth tremble, and of all kind of animals running around not to be eaten by the towering beasts. He saw his mom look at him and dad, smile and shake her head, but he didn't understand why. "The Great Spirit saw all this, and saw that the earth was in danger, because the Unktehila were eating everything and soon there would have been nothing left. So he called Wakinyan, the Thunderbird. He is always hidden in clouds, but he is so big that when he spreads his wings, they are twice as long as our boat. He causes thunder just by flapping his wings, and he can gather clouds around and create a storm. When he blinks, we see a flash of lighting, and lightning bolts are like snakes he carries in his talons. The Great Spirit called him and told him he had his sons had to stop the Unktehila, before they ate everything. So the Thunderbird and all his sons came down from the sky and attacked the Unktehila with their beaks and their talons, and they killed them all, but some tried to escape in the water, in the sea, in the lakes, in the rivers. Then the thunderbirds threw their lightning in the water and make it boil, so even those Unktehila died, except the ones that were too little to eat everything. The snakes, the lizards, once they were all Unktehila, now the crocodiles are the biggest ones that remain. So all the animals and the people were saved from being eaten." "And the thunderbirds? Where are they now?" "They went back to the sky, but sometimes they come down again, to eat the children that tell lies to their mom and dad." dad said, tickling Colin's side. "It's well past time for you to go to bed, little sailor." "Oh, no, daddy, another one, just another one, please!" "Let's ask mom. Captain Mom, has Seaman Colin been good enough for another story?" Mom looked as if she was about to frown, but then she saw something in daddy's face that Colin could not see from up there and smiled instead. "Ok, but just a little one. It's really late." "Yay!" "Thank you, Captain. Now, Colin I need you to pay attention, because this is an important one." Colin was listening with every inch of his body. Dad took his finger again and began to draw in the sky again. "This is the Big Dipper. It's easy to find. The Little Dipper is nearby, and a little less bright, but you see it as well, don't you? Good. You see this star just at the end of the Little Dipper's handle? She is an old friend of mine, and of all the sailors since the beginning of time. She's called the North Star, because she stands just above the North Pole, and because if you can see her, you know where the north lies. The Lakota call her Wichapi Owanjila, the star that always stands in one place. All the others just wander around, but she is faithful and remains there to show us the way." The boy looked doubtfully at the sky. "I don't see them wandering around, daddy." Dad laughed. "Colin, when you look at the sun, does it move around?" "No." "But when it sets, you see it fall down and disappear, don't you?" "Yes." "That's because it moves very slowly. It moves so slowly it seems to stay still, but at the end of the day, he has walked across all the sky. The stars are the same. They play ring-a-ring-a-roses all around the North Star, so slowly they look like they are still. But they don't. Only the North Star does." "Why doesn't she play with the others?" "Because she has a very important job to do. Whenever someone is lost at night, he can look at her and find out where he is and where to go. Her job is to make sure every sailor can return home to his wife and children." "Oh." said Colin, and gave a big yawn. "But what happens when it's cloudy and you can't see the stars?" Dad took Colin down from his shoulders and hugged him as he brought him to bed. There was only one room on the boat so mom and dad slept on the bed, and Colin slept in a hammock. The boy had never slept in a hammock before, and he thought it was the most exciting thing in the world. He yawned again as dad helped him out of the red jacket and into his pajamas. "Then the sailor will follow a compass, that always points to the north too." Colin jumped on the hammock, and dad wrapped a blanket all around him. "But then what happens if he loses the compass?" the kid asked and yawned like a kitty. Dad kissed his son's forehead, and stroked his hair. "Then the sailor will follow his heart, and his heart will always show him the way home to his wife and his kid." Finally contented with that answer, Colin slipped in a blissful sleep. The fourteen-year-old Colin wipes the tears from his eyes, sending a thought of wordless gratitude to the sky above. His father had rented a boat, so they could spent the last days of summer together by the sea, just the three of them. Later that year, he left on the USS Atlanta, and never came back. Often his memories of him are foggy, as if he couldn't focus him well. Everytime something like this resurfaces, he's happy to see that he didn't make it all up in his mind, and that his dad was really as wonderful as he remembers him. But he has come here for a reason, and he hasn't got the whole night. Colin sits up and takes his gear out of the backpack. The first item is a candle, a large white pillar candle. He sets it on the dry leaves, just in front of himself, so he can shield it from the wind with his body, and lights it with a match, observing then the spirals of smoke from the blackening wood dissolve in the air. Colin clears his throat, and starts talking. "I'm not sure how I should do this. That should come as no surprise, I barely know how to do anything else. Just please bear with me a little. I'm not going to ask you anything unreasonable. I'm not even sure I going to ask anything at all. I probably just need a little of your time, and you should have plenty of that, or so they say. Just please listen to me for a little while." Colin puts a medal and a pen to either side of the candle. The medal bears an eagle perched on an anchor, and the word 'heroism'. The pen is a beautiful fountain pen. "These belong to my mom and my dad. I brought them here tonight because the blackbird said I am the force that should drive my prayers into the sky, and whatever strength I have, it surely comes from them. They are my roots, my shape, my shield against anything bad, and my hidden source of energy." He puts a wooden spoon beside the medal and a police business card beside the pen. "I am also so lucky that I found someone else that really care for me. Well, it's luck only if it wasn't you, since I met them both when I needed them the most. Mama Walters and Chris. I'm sure you know both of them really well, and I don't need to talk you about them, but I couldn't leave them out of this, because they too make me strong. But now to the business at end." Colin opens his album and takes out the photo he took of his friends by surprise. All the usual suspects are there. He puts it in front of the candle. "These are my friends. They are special in many many ways, but it's not for their talents that they are special to me. I have known them for just a month and it's like we have always been together. They have been absolutely wonderful when I needed them the most. T.J. warned me about the witches, and before I asked him anything, he spent his time and money trying to find a way to help me. Donnie wore himself out with the spell, and became a target too, just because he felt it was the right to do. Sylvia saved my life at the party, and you know she would stop at nothing to find out even the most dangerous truth. Kel has such a big heart he would likely take on Godzilla too, just to protect his friends. Only you know how many nights Matt stayed awake doing researches so his friend could find some justice. Dave and Greg are... unbelievable. They are probably the nicest guys I ever met. Cal and Seth aren't in the pic, but they helped me too. At least I think so, Seth likes to be mysterious. Oh, and I didn't know Sammy yet when I took this photo, but she had already helped me. I can't say I really know her, but somehow she's always there when things get dire. And then of course there's Sarah." Colin lets out a sigh. "She's even more special to me than the rest of them, but you already know it. I wish I could find a way to... I don't know, say the right thing, do the right thing, just make it work. I can't help but feel like a clumsy fool when I'm around her. It's all so new, and scary, and confusing, and making no sense. Maybe I do am just a fool, and she'll never like me as I like her, but... I can't help it. Until she changes her mind, I'll be her friend. I'm good at being a friend, I hope." He breathes deeply, taking in the scent of the wet soil hugging the fallen leaves, and listening to the wind, and the hushed sounds of the wild at night. "My temple" he smiles to himself. "Yes, I know you haven't got all night, and neither do I, so I'll get to the point. Awful things happen all around us. Some of them to us too. I can't ask you to solve our problems for us, and I don't want to. I'm going to ask you this instead. When we'll be in trouble, and knowing us we'll surely will, when bad things will happen to us, please, give us the strength to get up again, to let our friends help us out, to find our bearings and start again. If I have a choice in that, I'll never leave any one of them alone, and I believe they wouldn't leave me alone either. Just give us the strength to carry on, and we'll be fine, or at least we'll do our best to be fine, as we always do." He's about to blow out the candle, when he remembers something. He fumbles with his pocket and gets out the cell phone Bobby gave him. "I almost forgot. I don't know what those 'scorpions' were, but he almost sounded worried, so I guess it must be serious. I really can't help him any other way than this, and he probably doesn't need any help at all, but I still feel like I should do something for him, so I'm going to ask you to keep an eye on Bobby too. He's got a wife and daughters, that don't really need to know what it's like when your dad dies a hero. That's all. I hope I didn't annoy you too much. Thank you for your time. I've got to go now, and please remember what I asked. The blackbird also said that I am the measure of what my prayers are worth. As usual, I'm not sure what he mant, but I'll try to be someone whose prayers are worth listening. Goodbye." Colin puts out the candle and breathes in the ribbon of smoke she lets out before going quiet. He puts everything carefully back in his knapsack, and goes back to where he left his bike, when suddenly his flashlight illuminates it. The teenager freezes in fear and fumbles, so the flashlight falls to the ground and turns itself out. Colin remains under the faint light of the waning moon and the stars, not daring to move. 'It' cannot be a wolf. It's too big, almost like a bear. And there's intelligence in those shining yellow eyes. Colin can clearly see it, and it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It begins to slowly walk toward the boy, making no sound. Oh God and Great Spirit! What do I do? Don't look at in the eyes, don't show your teeth, don't make any sudden movement that could be seen as a challenge. Don't run away, or you'll be seen as a prey. Just roll down and play dead. It'll never work! He knows I'm not dead! If only I could get to the bike, maybe I could outrun him. On foot I have no chance.[/i] Colin tries to slowly back away toward the bike, but 'it' lets out a growl so deep and threatening that the boy stops dead in his tracks. The huge wolf keeps getting nearer and nearer, the musky scent of its fur invades Colin's nostrils and he closes his eyes expecting the inevitable gory death... when he hears it sniffing his calves. He opens one eye tentatively and sees the yellow eyes of the beast looking at him in mild surprise, as if it wasn't expecting to find him there. The beast turns to the side, and Colin sees the blackbird perched there. The wolf's eyes turn upon the boy again and then it walks away, quickly gaining a speed that makes Colin think he couldn't have outrun it even with the bike. He crumples to the ground, breathing heavily, trying to convince his heart to slow down. He has no idea what 'it' was, nor of what it happened here, but he wouldn't mind putting some miles within him and the forest at the moment. As he calms down, he picks up the flashlight, returns to the bike, and cycles home at top speed. He's had enough emotions for tonight. He opens the main door just enough to make the bike slip in, so it doesn't creak, takes off his boots, and tiptoes upstairs. He picks up the note he left for his mom, undresses himself quietly, and collapse into bed. In a few minutes he's already sleeping soundly. Mrs. Walters really doesn't sleep much. 'The early bird gets the worm', she always says, so she's often up well before Colin goes out to his paper route. Her frowns are legendary, as is her ability to express utter contempt through them. This morning, she has found something to frown upon even before reading the tribune. A pair of dirty, muddied hiking boots left in the middle of the entrance hall. Slowly, she turns to look at the door of the apartment upstairs. Title: [Sammy / Related] Part 1 Post by: Kat on October 25, 2006, 06:57:09 PM This is going to take me a long time to crank out, so I'm posting it in installments. ======= 1. ========= Surrounded by family members, the old man laid in his bed in the darkened hospital room, knowing full well the only thing between him and death were the machines diligently clicking and humming and beeping by the sides of his bed. The hospital clergyman on call had come to visit, to comfort the family and to help ease the old man out of this world and into the next, but Nathaniel had chased him away. There was nothing he didn't know about faith; his God had tested him again and again, and death was just the last of the trials. He didn't need any rent-a-preacher to tell him anything. He knew what was waiting for him on the other side and he was not afraid. He had failed only the one test, not so very much in the course of an entire lifetime, and he was sure his God would forgive him that failure. His son, the eldest and his purest pride, clasped the old man's pale right hand between his own hands. Sorrow was written across the younger man's face in anticipation of the loss so soon to come. "Papa... dear Papa. There's so little time, and so much left to say... Do you have any regrets?" The old man coughed, setting off alarms which were quickly quieted. "Just the one." He drew a deep, shuddering breath and continued. " I should have killed her when I had the chance." Title: Re: [Sammy / Related] Part 2 Post by: Kat on October 25, 2006, 10:30:50 PM Quote from: Kat on October 25, 2006, 06:57:09 PM This is going to take me a long time to crank out, so I'm posting it in installments. ======= 2. ========= May, 1963. A small town in rural California. One mistake. You make one mistake, and you're never allowed to forget it. Head held high, Marnie Campbell walked down Main Street pushing the baby in her carriage. Once upon a time, Marnie had been a princess here. A pretty girl from a respectable family, as well as an excellent student with a bright future, she had gone off three years ago to get a degree in teaching from the state University. One year ago, she had come back pregnant and in disgrace, only because she had no where else to go. Her family had tried, unsuccessfully, to put it about that she had quietly married while in Los Angeles and that her husband had been tragically killed in an accident. People pretended to believe it, but she could tell by the way they looked at her that they knew it wasn't true. They could guess at some of the truth, but those old hens would really get to cackling if they knew all of it, and she was bound and determined that they would never find out, not if she could help it. The sounds of a large crowd of people singing and shouting rolled up the street from the direction of the Baptist church. There was a tent revival meeting going on this week, and it seemed to be well attended. "Come on, baby," Marnie said with a sigh, "Let's go visit Grandpa." Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: cassbackward on November 09, 2006, 12:58:01 AM Homecoming (http://bangwhimper.blogspot.com/2006/11/homecoming.html) In which Sylvia heads home from Donnie's house, with company. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: thevshi on December 03, 2006, 10:25:39 PM Saturday Night, October 13th Megan looked at herself in the mirror in the movie theatersâ€™ restroom as she brushed her hair back with her left hand. She was wearing a light cashmere sweater that was a dark green along with pair of tight Frankie B straight jeans. Even with only a slight amount of makeup on, she still looked great, as usual, she thought as she applied a light amount of clear lip gloss to touch up her lips. Even as she did that, she realized it was sort of pointless, soon she would be back in the theater, and the movie would start soon and it would be far to dark for Zack, the wrestler from one of her classes, to even be able to see how glossy her lips were. Not to mention she was pretty certain that by the end of the movie there would be very little, if any, left on her lips anyway. As she put away the lip gloss, she thought a little about how crazy everything was getting. Going into Freshman year of high school had been so exciting for her, not the typical view of many of her peers. But then, through family connections, she had gotten connected with Lisa early in the summer and gotten a place on the cheerleading squad. Going to the cheerleading camp with them over at Notre Dame for a week had been a lot of fun, but had quickly taught Megan she had a lot to learn from the other girls about so many things relating to life in high school. But her fatherâ€™s status as mayor, not to mention the fact her family was wealthy, had gone a long way in making the other girls quickly accept her. Things had started out well, everything quickly falling into a routine and Megan enjoying herself. But then it had seemed things just as quickly changed. The incident at the labs had been frightening, though it had fully reintroduced Sarah back into the blond teenâ€™s life, not to mention introduced her to Calvin, whom Lisa had already been pushing Megan to date, and also to Colin. In addition to those acquaintances, new and old friendships, the incident had given her powers, though it had taken a little while for her to discover them. But in the mean time, things continued to be a bit crazy at school, and more so than she had even realized based on what she had learned reading Colinâ€™s journals. After being in several incidents where she had been hesitant to use her powers because she had not wanted others to know of them, Megan had decided to make herself a hero identity. Thus Velocity was born, though she had actually gone out the first night with no settled name. From the very start it had seemed like she might not be fully cut out for life as a superhero, though she had managed to save a police officerâ€™s life and help Kel and his grandfather a bit with some crazy ninja attack on them. But for some reason, as she did things to help people and the like, the media really picked up on the reports of her activities. It only seemed to show that if you had a flashy costume and powers, the world could be kept a bit clueless on just how much you were operating on just daring and pure luck. But the blond teen had to admit that being Velocity was a bit addictive, the speeding down the streets or up the side of buildings, dodging bullets and lightning bolts (well, sometimes) and death rays, saving peopleâ€™s lives, beating up bad guys, it all just seemed sort ofâ€¦.natural. She really suspected that that was because as Velocity she was able to just go loose with her powers, not having to keep them controlled. That was something she was starting to feel was bleeding a bit into other parts of her life. Her and Calâ€™s relationship had been great, from many views the dream high school romance of a star quarterback and a cheerleader. But part of her had wondered if it would really have lasted very long. Calvin was good looking, strong, kind and gentle, all wonderful qualities, but he had been rather quite, a hard one to get talking about much of anything most of the time. While making out with him had been nice, and Megan liked everything else about him, she now felt that the lack of real conversation would eventually have created a strain on things for her. Now that he was gone, she was feeling a lot of mixed emotions on what to do now. Lisa had said there were plenty of other boys out there, though Megan knew that the list of â€œappropriateâ€ boys was likely not as big in the older girlâ€™s mind as she made it sound. But now Lisa was gone as well, for the most part anyway. While Megan was not about to date just anyone, she was feeling like she might want to take some time to date some different types of boys and see how things went and fight the slight urge part of her had to find the cutest most popular boy she could, as fast as she could and latch on. But now she seemed to be moving on with her â€œcasual datingâ€ plan at top speed. Here it was, only a little over a week since Cal had left, and she had made a big play at Greg (though one that had not really seemed to accomplish anything, though maybe going to see one of the old movies he suggested with him might prove different, should he ever get around to setting up a time to do that), been asked to Homecoming by Seth, to Elrodâ€™s Halloween party by Kel (though, Seth and Kel had come after her) and was now on this date with Zack. Though to be fair, all those dates were pretty well spaced out over the next few weeks, though she wondered if some others might not fill in the time between. They were just single dates after all, where she would go spend some time with each of them, have some fun, maybe kiss and make out a bit and that would be all. Wouldnâ€™t it? She had it clear in her mind what she was doing, she only hoped it would be clear enough to each of the guys. Taking a deep breath, she looked at herself one last time before taking a paper towel that she put the spearmint gum from her mouth into before throwing it into the trash. Making her way back to the theater, she quickly found where Zack again, seated in a spot not to near anyone else near the back of the theater just as the lights dimmed a bit as the previews began. â€œJust in time.â€ Zack said to her with a smile as she sat down next to him. Megan laughed slightly as she replied, â€œyeah, would hate to miss the previews.â€ It was only a few moments after she had sat back down before Zackâ€™s arm came up and around her shoulders, a move she did nothing to protest. Zack was a pretty cute guy, and, while not as big as Cal, was in good shape being a wrestler. She scooted a bit closer to him, as best she could in the movie theater seats, as they watched the previews. As the previews came to an end, the theater darkened even more and the movie began. It was only a few minutes into it when she felt Zack softly kiss her neck. The kisses caused her skin to tingle as she let him pull her closer. After a couple more, she turned her head towards him as their lips met and his arm moved behind her back to hold her. Turning her body in the seat, Megan was able to lean in a bit closer as they continued to kiss, reaching up with her hand to run her fingers through his hair as his other hand reached around her waist. After all, she had not really expected, or even wanted, to see much of the movie anyway. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: thevshi on December 31, 2006, 02:47:46 PM Megan opened up the door to the dark room that seemed to echo with the sound of her footsteps. Reaching up to the side of the door, she turned on the light for the room, the mirrors on several of the walls causing the light to seem to reflect as she looked into the small dance room her parents had set up for her a few years ago. She walked out towards the center of the room and made her way over to the door to the closet of the room that held the stereo system and computer filled with songs from hundreds of CDs and off I-Tunes and other sites for downloading music. Next to the door was a small table, on which the blond teen placed a large bottle of water and a towel. Now that she was able to get her homework done so much faster, she had more time to do other things. While she tried to get out and about town as Velocity as much as she could, it was not something she could do as often as she might like, given her motherâ€™s concerns about why she was out late at night over the last month. Though she was still hardly talking to her mom, the last thing she wanted was to have her mom ground her or something as Megan was not willing to talk about what she had been doing. Given her momâ€™s reaction to when she had tried to talk to her about what she thought of going to the movies with Greg that one time, Megan felt very little reason to tell her mother anything else about her life. She also had so much else going on now, Con Debate practice and meets, the self defense training they all were having with Jack (and she had asked about some one-on-ones to see what he might be able to do to help her better use her speed in a fight), and also the target practice she did once a week at the country club with the range balls to improve her accuracy with small thrown objects. Once at the closet door, the blond teen began scrolling through the songs stored on her computer upstairs that was networked with this one, going far faster than a normal human could possibly read. She was considering what she wanted to do as far as dancing for the next hour or so, and picked the songs for the various dances the squad did during games and pep rallies. For a moment she thought about searching the folder filled with Christmas music to start looking for a good song for the squad to make a dance for to perform before the holidays but decided she could do that back in her room later. Taking the remote for the stereo system with her, she moved back to the center of the room and began stretching. Since she had gained her powers from the lab accident, she had noticed she had gained a bit of flexibility that she had not worked at gaining, so she figured it must have something to do with what happened to her. She had also noticed that the tumbling she did while cheerleading had gotten just a bit easier, so she had gained more than just the ability to move at superspeed from the accident. The blond teen wondered what other abilities she might have gained from the accident, either that she had not learned of yet, or had not developed yet. Once finished with stretching, Megan took off the grey sweat pants and sweatshirt that both had â€œPrincetonâ€ written on them, sat them to a small table in the room so she was only in a pair of black shorts and sports bra. It was better to be able to see herself fully when dancing instead of under a baggy pair of sweats. Pressing play on the remote, she placed it down on the table as well and then moved back to the center of the room as the first song started. She ran through the squad dances, moving back over to the remote to replay a couple if she was not fully satisfied with how she did on one. She took a couple breaks to drink some water as she danced, and wipe off some sweat as well, but was finding she was able to dance a bit longer than she used to be able to as well. The one she had helped do some choreography for, to Justin Timberlakeâ€™s â€œSexybackâ€, was last, and she went through it twice as she still felt she needed some more work on it. After going through the squadâ€™s dance to the song, she was sweating a good bit and went over to the table, using the towel to dry off a bit as she drank more of the water. She then spent another twenty minutes or so playing around with some dance moves and choreography for various songs, including â€œSexybackâ€ and some other techno-dance songs. That was one of the things Megan really liked about dancing, the near endless variations of dances to the same music one could make. Finally satisfied she had practiced enough for the night, she gathered her things together to go upstairs for a quick shower before getting she would work on homework. As she walked out the door, she shut off the light, plunging the room into darkness once more before she closed the door behind her. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: Gaea on January 04, 2007, 05:32:14 PM Seth was going to fly...It should be possible. He could lift anything else. But whenever he tried to lift himself, it just didn't work. He could feel his "mental fingers" just slip off himself. And that brought him to another thing. He had this vague sense of whatever he was "holding". It was ambiguous, and for all he knew it may be purely psychosomatic. But he thought that he could "feel" it, and that was enough for him. He thought a lot about the mechanics of his powers. There were things that confused him. And things that intrigued him. He wanted to master those things. He wanted to be the master of his own powers. So he made a list of what he had done and a list of what he should be able to do, and a list of things to practice. And he posted them around the mirror in his room. He had unlocked that door lock. And he hadn't been able to see the lock. It had taken no small amount of mental effort, and a lot of mental dexterity, but he had done it. Which implied that he didn't always need to see what he wanted to manipulate. Which implied that he had some sort of extra sensory tactile perception. He needed to expand that somehow. That was problematic because he had no idea where to begin. He also needed to improve his dexterity. His Telekinesis was only as skilled as he was. He needed to learn slight of hand, lock picking, wood working, etc. He would be far more effective with that knowledge. Able to do things with his Teke that he could do in real life, and probably far more quickly. He needed to visit the bookstore. The library. Probably Home Depot for some wood working seminars. He needed to pick up some lock picking materials. He could get some practice locks at home depot when he was there. The YMCA probably had some classes in things that could also be useful. He had always wanted to take up yoga. The body control would be useful for clearing his mind. This was going to cost money. He had been saving up for a car, and he had quite the nest egg built up, but he wasn't exactly crazy about spending all of that money. He really did want a car. He supposed that if he could fly, driving a car wouldn't exactly seem as cool...but.... An hour later His arms were overloaded with books. Barnes and Noble had been a treasure trove. He had found the metaphysical section which contained all kinds of wonderful claptrap...Including a book, humorously, and surreptitiously titled "How to expand your tactile sensation across space and time." Books on lock picking Books on arts and crafts Books on centering yourself Some science fiction books on characters with TK Books on magic, and slight of hand Books of anatomy He must of dropped 400 dollars. He could barely carry them, even with telekinetic assistance. He must look ridiculous, carrying this many books. His mom was waiting in the car, they were going to the Y next, to sign up for some classes. Including some advanced dancing classes. but that was fun for later. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: thevshi on January 15, 2007, 09:00:55 PM Friday October 19th/Saturday October 20th: 12:45 AM A Monaco blue BMW 3 Series coupe came to a halt at the entrance to the driveway that lead back to the Howell residence. Megan looked over at her house, set back away from the street for a moment before she turned over towards the driver, Cory Wells, a Sophomore from a very wealthy family and one of the most popular boys in his grade. Megan was dressed in a pair of dark blue AG jeans, black Christian Dior heeled sandals, and a purple leopard print corset by Tied Up with a black leather jacket over it due to the cold. She smiled at Cory as she was the first to speak. â€œI had a really great time.â€ Her statement was much of a stretch from the truth. The evening had started out with dinner at a very nice restaurant in Chicago (where Megan had been wearing a red cashmere sweater over her top as the corset would likely have had them turned away at the door). After that, Cory had taken her to one of the Seventeen and older nightclubs in the city, the fact neither of them were seventeen had not mattered, as the club was one of the business Coryâ€™s father owned. In fact, they had been provided a table in the VIP section of the club that overlooked the dance floor and other parts of the club. â€œYeah, I had a great time as well.â€ Cory replied as he turned off the motor of the beamer and shifted in the carâ€™s leather seat to be closer to her, clearly expecting that the date was not over yet. At the club, Cory had seemed to have expected to spend a lot of time at their table making out, a plan Megan had not gone along with. That was in part because he had taken her to a nightclub, and she had fully intended to take full advantage of that to dance all night, so they had spent far more time out on the dance floor than at their table (Megan spending even more time on the dance floor than Cory). Even when they were back at their table, it was only long enough for Megan to drink some water before she was on her way back to the dance floor. There had been a number of older high school students and some of younger college students there, and if any of them had realized she was not seventeen, that had not stopped several of them from hitting on her. But another reason was that Megan was feeling a lot less enthused about this date than she had earlier in the week, Jonathan Elliot being the central reason for that change. This date had been to get her out of the house tonight, and after her talk with John yesterday where he had reveled the fact he had superpowers to her and she had decided to tell him she did as well, it had become even more about the plan to catch the peeping photographer. Looking at Cory, expectation rather evident on his face, she could not help but admit that overall, tonight had been an enjoyable evening. Cory was good looking and very confident, he could dance pretty well (obviously having gotten practice at the club in the past) and over all in good shape. Conversation over dinner had also gone well, with him going on only a few times on topics that had almost been too dull to bear. But despite all this, Megan had felt something was a littleâ€¦off. At times Cory seemed very transparent and fake, not to mention there were a few times that his eye tended to wander. She still felt a slight feeling of guilt that she had used and mislead him. Leaning towards him slightly, she gave him a brief kiss, but then pulled back again just as he had started to move his right hand to reach around her shoulders. There was a look of surprise on his face as she gave him a apologetic smile. â€œItâ€™s getting really late. I had better get inside, or it might be a really long time before I could have the chance to maybe do this again.â€ A brief look of frustration crossed Coryâ€™s face, but it was quickly replaced by a charming smile as he nodded. â€œWe wouldnâ€™t want that to happen.â€ Megan smiled back and gathered her sweater and purse and climbing out. â€œGood night.â€ She said with a smile before closing the door and starting down the driveway towards her house. It was almost one in the morning, hopefully if the peeping photographer had tried to wait around for her tonight, he had given up and gone home. She still had to spend the day away from home tomorrow, and then had the party after the football game she was going to with John. The fact she would be cutting that date shorter to get back home and hopefully get the photographer was rather disappointing, but with their plans to go to the Halloween party together, it should all work out. Turning back around after a few steps, she saw Cory was watching her as he started his BWM. She waved with a slight smile and then continued on to her house and made her way inside. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: cassbackward on January 16, 2007, 04:12:35 PM I started this one before the holidays, right after the kids' first meeting with Jack. Here it is, finally done. A Perfect Life (http://bangwhimper.blogspot.com/2006/12/flicker-of-faded-images-like-old-movie.html) - More Dylan, gearing up to the Fenwick prom. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: cassbackward on January 20, 2007, 11:38:16 PM And another. Red, Yellow, Or White (http://bangwhimper.blogspot.com/2007/01/red-yellow-or-white.html) - The Fenwick social. Caution, imagine 90210 as written by a Russian novelist. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: Jongluer on January 24, 2007, 11:27:16 AM Friday October 19th 10:30pm Kel walked through one of Chicago's darker streets, a bit south of the UofC campus. He ducked down an alleyway in the area straddling between gangbangers and scholars, heading for neither but instead down a small flight of steps away from the random smells of the Windy City and into a place pulsating with scents of booze, bogies, and broads. He didn't have to worry about getting carded as he walked through a rickety door at the bottom of the stairs beneath a small broken neon sign and into a packed and smoke-filled bar. The place was packed with bodies, every rocker for miles was here. No one was moving at the moment it was only some local band and they weren't that impressive. Most people were currently just watching as the lead guitarist made an ass of himself. Kel skittered along the crowd and made his way for the bar. As expected no carding from the old biker behind the bar, and Kel was on his second beer by the time the locals finished their set. There were some pity claps as they walked off stage, and then a small dull roar of a random cd came through the bar's overhead speakers. A little interlude before the headliner came on, Kel smiled, this was going to be awesome, Dragon Force was in Chicago for a few days and they were playing smaller venues. He missed them at Ozzfest when he had been away in Japan last summer, but now he finally could catch them here. Another beer down, and Kel was starting to press his way through the crowd, it was a bit hard to shuffle through the massive guys but eventually he got somewhere in the middle by the time his third beer was finished and Dragon Force made it on stage. There was no stupid, hello Chicago bullshit, just a full on blast of bass and sick guitar solos when they came on. The bar was shaking as they played, and then what Kel was waiting for started. Right here in the middle of the crowd, people started moving, everything shifted right for a second and then things really started moving. Kel was practically jogging as the music picked up, and the circle pit started rushing around and engulfing the small place. Fists started flying as the circle pit dissolved into something a bit more traditional, Dragon Force moving into their third song already. Kel purposely dove his way into the center. He wasn't exactly sure if this is what Jack had meant about learning to take a fall and get hurt but it was what Kel figured was good practice. He ducked as a big black boot flung up by his face, one big fat guy was going nuts. Everyone was too busy to notice, and Kel just laughed, as his own fist struck out knocking the guy off into the few members of the crowd not moving. A monster of a man slammed into Kel's back as he tripped amongst all the people. Instead of letting the guy hit the ground Kel pushed him back up and started weaving through the legs and fists. One jackass cartwheeled across the pit nearly knocking over eight people. Kel grabbed ahold of him, and sent him crowdsurfing, before he could screw a good pit up, stupid hardcore guys ruined everything. That moment's hesitation cost him a backhand across his cheek, it stung a little as the pit kept moving. By the end of the set, Kel was panting hard and had somehow made his way to a barstool, the bartender placed a damp rag and another beer down in front of him. Kel pressed the rag against a busted lip, and then took a swig of the guinness. The crowd started moving out. Kel followed along, and at some point had bought a t-shirt though he didn't really remember it. He was a bit woozy as he made his way back to the El station. At the El, he was standing waiting for the 1 am train, and then felt a little rumbling in his stomach. It was a revolt of his body against the voluntary beating and far too many black&tans or was he just drinking guinness. Kel shook his head as the vomit poured out of him, it defintely tasted better going down. Kel muttered as he realized some had ended up in his hair, he wondered what Sylvia was doing probably off with Donnie or sleeping. Still he thought, she always held his hair and he missed it alot as he sat down on the El and got a bit of the barf onto his cheek from his hair. Kel sighed, as he sat there, wondering about all the other usual suspects, it was a shame, this wasn't their kind of music or scene. He laughed wondering about if he would have ever taken Megan to a show like this, then shook his head. Kel had mentioned it to Dallas, but he didn't seem to like the idea of getting the crap beaten out of him for fun. Kel shrugged as the El pulled into the Oak Park station, he was alone again. Title: Stranger than Algebra Post by: opensesame on January 24, 2007, 02:58:52 PM Friday Morning just before lunch. Sarah stood beside Mr. Crosier's desk waiting for the axe to fall. She scribbled Colin's name a few times along the corner of her open notebook and surrounded it with hearts and smiles and a little and badly drawn bird. Mr. Crosier clears his throat and is clearly displeased that once again he has to struggle to get Sarah's attention. He starts off on a familiar note. "Sarah, you're work is incomplete... again and most of it is wrong. I want you to sit here and work on this during lunch. I'll be here at my desk and happy to help you work through the problems but clearly you aren't really trying at home." Sarah just sighs and looks sadly at Mr. Crosier, "I did work on it," She replies, "I spent two hours on it last night and it just never made any sense." I'm so very sick of trying. What good is this ever going to do me? None! I'm not going to be a scientist or a math teacher or ... or smart. It's pointless. With a tone rich in sarcasm Mr. Crosier responds, "I hardly think time spent watching videos while scribbling in your notebook counts as work Miss Rollins." he replies. "Now sit down and start with problem number one on fresh paper. Show your work and write clearly for a change and I might have an easier time of helping you." Sarah just grits her teeth and her voice takes on a strange new quality when she responds. "I did do my homework. Not that you care." Mr. Crosier sighs, "You're quite correct Miss Rollins I don't care. I want to see results out of you here and now where it is quiet and you can focus. I think you can handle this work Sarah but you just aren't applying yourself." "You're wrong," argues Sarah and there is a stange feeling when she says it. A tingle in her mind that goes unheeded as her face grew hot in embarrasment. "I have been applying myself. I have been trying and it's not fair that you can't see that!" Sarah felt like crying, she was so sick and frustrated with this work. Not even halfway through the year and she was fairly sure she was going to fail. And then summer school that with any luck I'll just squeak by in. But Mr. Crosier's expression softened somewhat, "I'm sorry Sarah... I've been.. I was wrong. I'm sorry you are having such a hard time in class but I'm not sure what more I can do to help you. I've tried three or four different approaches to explaining the work but each one just seems to not be the right one." Sarah looks up blinking to keep from crying but amazed. She had never heard Mr. Crosier apologize to anyone. It was possible because he seemed to be always right but Sarah must have made him feel bad somehow. But how? She wasn't the first teenage girl to ever plead ignorance to him. Not even the first this year. She responds sadly, "I don't know either. I wish I could remember this stuff better. I've tried mnemonics and the problem is I can barely remember them let alone what they are supposed to stand for. I am spending so much time on math that I have to race through my other subjects which I used to be pretty good at. It's like I've got a hole in my head where math should be stored. I forget the formulas as soon as I write them down." Mr. Crosier looked concerned at that, "Well Sarah, it might be worthwhile to get tested." Oh great, more tests, just what I need! "You might have a math learning disability that you could get help for. I'll contact Ms. Holland in the special ed department. Of course we'll need your parents permission before any of this so I'll contact them and set up a meeting. You may have hit the nail on the head here Sarah." "What? Special Ed? Learning disability?" Oh great it's not enough that I'm super but now I'm special. I'm super special. Sonofa.. "No. No way. Forget it," says Sarah to her momentarily stunned teacher. Sarah barely notices. "Forget testing me and forget this homework. Just forget the whole thing!" Sarah covers her face and starts to cry waiting for the reprimand and the talk about facing reality but it never comes. After a moment Mr. Crosier does speak. "Miss Rollins? Is there something wrong? Can I help you with something?" Sarah looks with teary eyed confusion at Mr. Crosier. In a horse voice she answers, "What do you mean? You tell me I'm stupid and you wonder what's wrong?" Mr. Crosier replies calmly, "I am certain I have never called any student stupid Ms. Rollins. I just looked up from my paperwork to find you crying your eyes out over my desk. If you are having some problem I'm happy to try and help but please don't take my grading papers as some slight against you." Sarah wipes the tears out of her eyes, still confused. "But what about you calling my parents about testing?" "Miss Rollins what are you going on about?" He pauses as an idea strikes. "Testing! That's it Sarah! You've hit the nail on the head. We should get you tested to see if you have an actual learning disability. I'll call Ms. Holland in the Special Ed department but of course we'll need permission from your parents first." Sarah stares blankly as Mr. Crosier repeats nearly word for word his thoughts of a minute before. Is he losing his mind? But more importantly, "And I said forget that!" replied Sarah again with passion. Another blank look crosses her Math teacher's face and he pauses before asking, "As I said Sarah, if you need help with something just ask and I'll listen. But if you're feeling better you'd probably best get off to your next class." He forgot again when... when I told him to forget? Stunned into silence at this new strange possibility she just nods, sniffs back the last of her tears and heads out of the room. She wanders into the bathroom in a daze and washes her face up. After a minute or two she feels normal once more and hurries off to grab lunch. Feeling better she rushes towards the lunch room. I get to see Colin! I get to eat lunch instead of staring at a math book! I messed with someone's head! The last thought sobers her somewhat and slows her pace. Maybe I didn't. Maybe it was just bizarre coincidence. Maybe I've got a loaded gun and I don't know how to use it yet? Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: Jongluer on January 25, 2007, 05:36:39 PM Sunday October 14th, 4:33pm Sunday dinner at Uncle Robert's, Kel sighed, he hated family gatherings. Only once or twice a month plus big things like Christmas and Easter, and fourth of July, the list just never stopped. Still spending a good chunk of his day with his family was like a neatly constructed personal hell. He was now out on the front porch, staring out at the big yard and driveway packed up with everyone's cars. At least it was quiet out here, much better than the screaming kids running through the house. Kel plopped onto the wicker chair that was out here, at least he didn't have to watch the little brats hadn't had to do that since the summer. One of the benefits of everyone liking his cousin Ashley more was that they'd always go to her for babysitting needs first, and Kel last. Kel looked around, chances were good she was lurking around getting ready to degrade him or something, but for the moment the coast was clear. Somewhere from the backyard he could hear his uncle's dog running about barking, probably all his little cousins were playing with it, and on cue he heard there little laughs. Kel checked his watch, he still had a little while till dinner was ready, and he could smell it cooking even from outside. A thick mixture of so many different things, it was hard to pinpoint all the dishes being prepared on the other side of the house. A car pulling up caught Kel's attention as he sat in his chair, he leaned up a bit as it angled in to a small part of the drive where there was just enough room to squeeze in. Out of it stepped one of his older cousins, Bobby, and his wife, something or other, Kel rarely remembered her name, he only met her once or twice and at the wedding. He waved over to Kel and called out, "Hey, could you come help Carol?" Kel sighed and got up coming down off the porch and towards the car, picking his way amongst the vehicles to his cousin's. Carol was pregnant, ready to deliver Grandpa Stilley's first great-grandchild at some point in the next month or so, Kel helped her get out of the car and up to the house, she smiled at him as they walked, and then said, "Twins, boy and girl." She patted her bulge proudly, and Kel had to keep from grimacing. He had heard she was pregnant at some point, but no one had ever mentioned twins, how beautiful. They walked in and entered into the living room, nearly every Stilley man was surrounding Uncle Robert's big high definition plasma screen watching the Bears game, Kel tried to hide behind his cousin's wife as they walked towards the kitchen, but then his Uncle Robert waved over to him and said, "Kel, come over here and sit down, watch the game." Carol smiled and waddled off into the kitchen, as if she were doing him a favor by letting him spend time with his uncles and cousins. Kel settled down into the end of couch, next to his Uncle Francis, who was quietly sipping a beer. After a few minutes, as everyone started to lean in towards the television as the game started getting intense, Kel slipped off again and back out towards the front of the house. Of course, his cousin Ashley was leaning against the banister waiting for him, "I'd thought you'd like watching football, I mean you're always cheering on the team at school." She gave a hard laugh. "Shove it," Kel said as he kept walking by. But she followed him back out to the front porch and settled onto the railing there, smiling wide. "C'mon Kelly, where's that Huskie Spirit?" She giggled again, and had used his full name just to egg him on. Kel sat back in the wicker chair, trying to avoid it and not get into anything, "Don't worry Kel, I know you're only on the team to get closer with that little asian girl next door." Kel's head looked up with a raised eyebrow, "Oh come on, you're even on the school newspaper with her." She laughed again, "Or was it to get close with the cute blonde one, Megan?" She hopped off her perch and walked over, "Friend of mine said she saw you ask her out the other day, must've been real cute." Ashley pinched his cheek, and Kel fought the urge to scream, "But c'mon Kelly, really? She's friends with Lisa Janush, she must be a total bitch, and a man-eater on top of that. After all she sent that texas kid back down there." Ashley laughed again, "Word is she's already lining up dates left and right anyway, and I mean really if she's going somewhere with you she must have pretty low standards." She tsked and tsked as she settled in the other wicker chair, smiling the whole time. Kel was grinding his teeth, his dad had said not to cause any trouble this time, after the one before the beginning of the school year when he had accidently spilled a gravy boat all over her, no one was happy with him. She smirked, "I still can't believe you sit with those losers at lunch either. Greg and Dave, I mean come on, they're such geeks." The word fell from her mouth like it was some sort of curse, Kel clenched up one of his fists and concentrated on breathing. "All those other losers too, I mean, I know why you sit with the asian girl, it's soooo obvious." She laughed again and continued, "But I mean really, there's that weird girl who's friends with Dave and Greg, and that pudgy little kid, and the really weird one." She started laughing, "And someone said you were talking to one of the band geeks in the library the other day." She actually held onto her sides as she laughed, "I mean I told everyone that my cousin was a loser, but I don't think they were quite prepared for you to be like that." She wiped off a tear from her cheek as her fit of giggles came down. Kel finally snapped a little, "Give me a fucking break Ashley, if you're gonna try and piss me off at least make fun of me and not act like my friends suck." She giggled again, "Hit a tender area did I Kelly?" She giggled once more, "Which one was it that pissed you off more? The blonde bitch?" Kel's fist clenched, "The asian girl you want to lay your hands all over?" She made a bunch of kissing noises as Kel's teeth ground a bit more, "Or maybe it's one of the other weird girls you hang around with, like the band nerd or the geek?" She laughed as Kel's face started turning red with anger, "Or was it the fact that the guys you hang out with are total wimps who will be virgins till they're forty?" She started laughing again, Kel now just shaking. One of the aunts called out to tell everyone it was time for dinner, and Ashley got up and patted Kel's shoulder then leaned in to his ear, "Or is it that I hear you and that cheerleader Dallas get all sweaty working out together? I mean really, I know you've been getting more muscle, but he hasn't, you can't actually tell me that you two are," she giggled again, "Work out buddies." She laughed as she walked into the house. Kel sighed, all anger melting away, he couldn't go in there pissed off or else she'd end up with mashed potatoes in his face and he'd be grounded for a month. He sighed getting up, shaking his head, and then said aloud, "I hate Sunday dinner..." Title: Seth's training... Post by: Gaea on February 06, 2007, 01:34:04 AM Seth went home from his meeting with Megan a mix of emotions. He was trying to keep his focus out of his head, but it kept drawing there. He realized that yeah he had been mature. But he also realized selfishly: He didn't want to be mature. He wanted what he wanted. Gaaaa. He wanted to be mature. He wanted to date someone. But that brought questions to his head he didn't want to answer. He was attracted to Megan. She was about the only girl Seth was attracted to. He has been fighting it in his head....No. ... ... Best to think of other things. He had that dance class tonight. Swing. Or was it Salsa? No, Salsa was tomorrow. There was a girl in both his classes. She was cute, and a decent dancer, and conversationalist. Seth decided he would ask her to Homecoming. She was a little taller than him which was problematic. Especially when she would most likely be wearing heels. But then again, Seth knew he really didn't care. They would have a good night, assuming she said yes, and that would be that. She was very pretty and he would look like a "stud" and they would be the impressive freshman dance couple, and Seth would get a much needed ego boost. A few hours later... Seth smelled, his mom commented so in the car. But he had gotten his date to the homecoming. When he got home he grabbed a quick shower and locked the doors to his room. Between his music lessons, and his dance lessons, and schools he had been very busy. Late at night when he should be sleeping, was the only time he got to practice his "other" talents. He felt like he had been making some progress with his list. Particularly his 6th sense. Tonight he was just going to work on that... Flying would be cool, but this seemed much more important. Seth walked to the mirror, still wrapped in his towel, and looked at his list. Yeah, he was ready. Looking at his own reflection now, he decided that hair was a little too wet. What was the advice in the book. He glanced behind him to his book case, and mentally snatched the book from the shelf. It floated over to him lazily, he was in no real hurry. He opened it to the tabbed page and read: When clearing the mind it is useful to cleanse the body of all distractions, make sure you are clean and in good health. Turn off any electronic distractions, as well as any light sources. Sensory deprivation chambers work well for this. In lieu, a quiet room with comfortable carpeting will do. Lay on your back and close your eyes.... It went on from there, but Seth had memorized that section. Seth looked back into the mirror and decided dripping hair would probably be a distraction. The towel unfolded itself from around his waist and drifted up his back. Seth felt a small chill. HE walked around his room a bit while he had the towel on "auto-dry", and when he was satisfied it wouldn't drip, the towel drifted to it's rack in the attached bathroom and hung itself. Seth looked at himself in the mirror again, naked as the day he was born. Flexed a little. Warbled a little tune, and decided that he looked really good nude. He was starting to get some definition in his abs. The sit-ups were working. His lanky frame had never put on much weight, but he was starting to fill out and he was pretty pleased about. And he was looking more and more adult all-over. Yeah, Seth decided. "I look good". Seth laid on the floor, and with a mental flick of the light switch the room plunged into darkness. Seth modulated his breathing until it was regular, deep and even. He let his consciousness fall into himself. And then he worked on pushing it back into every inch of his body. One by one, Inch by inch. Feeling that was done, he worked on pushing it one inch out of his body. He had been working on this for two weeks now, with extreme diligence. The book said it could take months or years to achieve, but Seth had felt a tingle last night. He theorized that since this was an innate ability, it wasn't taking him as long to develop. He breathed in and out, in and out, in and out, and finally for the second time in his life he was aware of a space outside himself. It was different. It was tactile, and it tickled the part of his brain that his sense of touch utilized. It was just empty aire. But in some ways it felt like it was a part of him. But also not. A draft came through, and he felt that too, he was aware of the temperature, in the same way he was aware of his own...More and more sensation was creeping in. He took another breath and pushed out. And his consciousness expanded yet again. And he took another breath And another. And more and more was available to him. He pushed into the floor, and down into the frame of the house, and he could feel it swaying in the outside air. He could feel the insulation like spun sugar cotton candy. He breathed again. Several breaths later... Seth had expanded his awareness to fill his whole house, he could feel his mother watching the movie downstairs, the faint hum of the electronics, the movement of sound from his father's typewriter. He could feel his parents. The give and take flow of blood in their veins...It was entirely too intimate. But then his father got up and walked downstairs, and an entirely new feeling came through him...it was as though a limb were moving. But there was so much more information. He could feel the mathematician in him chock him full of all kinds of information. Speed, mass, elevation. He knew exactly where his father was. Seth modulated his "area of awareness" until it was roughly hemispherical, and worked very hard at setting a mnemonic trigger. He decided on something he could remember and easily figure out. When he had this mental state firmly mapped out in feeling and intent in his brain he set it to the simple pi. When he pictured that symbol in his mind, this sensory state should come back to him with a snap. It should. He remapped it twice just to be sure. And then he let it collapse back into himself. Suddenly he realized that he as lying naked on the floor, in the dark, and that he was cold. He pictured Pi in his head, and then suddenly he was back to where he was. The extra sensation was....intoxicating. He let it collapse again and suddenly he was very excited. Maybe too excited. But he could deal with that later. He turned the light on, and stood up. He pictured Pi in his head again....and nothing happened. "Shit" He closed his eyes, and tried again. He slowed his breathing and pictured it again. And bam he was back. He opened his eyes and then lost it. He tried this a few more times. And he found that he couldn't maintain it when his eyes were open. It was 3 in the morning, and he had music lessons at 5. He needed to sleep. He climbed into his loft bed, and pulled the cover over himself. His mother furious that he had locked his door would wake him in about 2 hours. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on February 06, 2007, 10:36:20 PM Sarah goes shopping. The wad of cash in her pocket is saved from allowances and odd jobs. The fifteen percent off coupon jammed next to it. She walks into the sports equipment store and the hunt begins. Three hours later a large pile of clothes lay scattered and crumpled in the changing room and only the strongest have survived to become the outfit of a hero. ...With no name. Sarah admires her look in the mirror. "Well one thing at a time." Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: BaboonBill on February 07, 2007, 03:54:26 PM Donnie listens to the message for the third time. "Hi, this is Sylvia. I can't take your call right now, but leave your name, number, and purpose of this call and I will get back to you when I can." He looks at the clock, knowing she was not at practice, and Mitzi had said she thought Sylvia had gone running or to work out. But that was over an hour ago. Donnie sighs and flops back on his bed , hands splayed out on the blue paisley coverlet. Pip rummaged around in the recycle bin, coming up with another prize: a half-crushed can of coke that still had some in it. He perched on the edge of the computer desk and daintily started destroying the can, ripping strips of aluminum of with his needle like teeth and chewing contently. Donnie looks over at the jade dragon, marvelling at the fine scales that shifted abruptly from jade green to milky white along the belly, and the jewel-like eyes that swirled color when the little dragon was agitated. "I dunno Pip. Once again she's gone with no explanation." Pip warbles, pausing in his munching. "No, she's not interviewing other mates." Donnie grins. "She wouldn't act like she does when we are in private if that were the case." He rolls over on his belly, staring at the headboard. It was new, as of last Christmas. His old one had been covered in stickers of dragons, some good, mostly poorly drawn. It had been a sacrifice, but he figured he was going into high school and needed to leave some of his childish life behind. Not that he's ever get rid of the posters, but it was a step. "I almost got the impression that Mitzi felt sorry for me on the phone, like she was sad to hear that Sylvia was not with me. I thought her family was tight and kept tabs on the daughters, but maybe not." Pip, having finished his pop can, twitched his tail like a cat, settling down on all fours. Donnie's only warning was a playful hiss as Pip leaped on his back, claws digging into his shirt and nipping at his neck. Donnie yowled "AHHH," and rolled over, flipping the dragon off of his back and onto the floor. Donnie grinned, rolling off after him, but the dragon had already scuttled beneath the bed, hissing happily. "I need a new pair of gloves, lizard. Maybe they should be jade colored, eh?" Pip hissed and nipped his hand when he reached beneath the bed. "Ow! Little bugger." Donnie was still reaching around under the bed, when he felt Pip land on his back again. With a snakelike strike, his jaws were already in Donnie's neck. "Alright! You win!" Pip leaped to the bed, then into the air, head held high. Donnie rubbed the nipped skin on his hands and neck, and grabbed his wallet and phone, heading downstairs. Pip navigated the hallway above his head, then divebombed down the stairs. Donnie heard his mother's yelp of fear and suppressed a grin as he rounded down the corner. An overturned basket of towles was scattered on the floor, and his mother was glaring into the living room. "Sorry mom. I dunno what got into him today. Maybe cabin fever." His mom, flushed with embarrassment and annoyance, opened her mouth to say some scathing remark, but closed it abruptly. She just mumured something to herself and let Donnie clean up the spiled towels. A definate improvement. His mom was trying to not be so sharp with Donnie now, learning to control her temper. It was a challenge for her, but it was working. Donnie gave her a kiss on the cheek and said "Going to the pet-shop. I'll be back later." His mom yelled out "See if they buy flying lizards, would you?" Donnie laughed and began his jog, Pip flying high above and chasing some birds in the air. Donnie had begun joggin once a week after Jack told him he had to lose the gut if he was going to ever become healthy enough to face whatever trials lay ahead. That and Donnie was tired of the surprised looks and smoldering jealousy he got when other teeangers saw him with Sylvia. How can a fat kid like him get a girl like that? He had heard it many times since Sylvia and him had become an item. Sylvia ignored them, or was oblivious, but Donnie saw every glare, every stifled giggle, every glower from the jocks. If he was going to survive high school, he needed to be in better shape. He made it eighteen minutes this time, before the stiches in his side made him slow to a walk. Three more minutes that last week. Another ten minutes of walking found him at the strip mall where the pet store was located. He passed by the Happy Family Wok where his dad always got chinese from, and ignored the CVS where he used to buy his stash of candybars. Pip had broken him of that habit, after finding them no matter where Donnie had hid them in his room. He went into the pet store and bought five mice, deflecting the counter guy's inquieres as to what type of snake Donnie had and if he wanted to get the newest copy of Reptile, the herpetologists magazine. Donnie grinned and shook his head. If he only knew.. Out back of the store there was a wooded area, a strip of land the old owner had retained when he sold his land to the developers. Usually the local kids smoked stolen cigrettes there, but today the woods were quiet and unpopulated. Pip awaited Donnie there. Solomnly, Donnie said a quiet phrase, one that he knew not in his memory, but in the soul he shared with that unknown dragon Border Lord that he has not met yet. A prayer of sorts, from a time when dragons shook the heavens above fearful man. It's rough translation slipped from Donnie's mouth as he opened a corner of the box, letting the mice escape. "Blood and bone, Fur and flesh. The hunt writhes wild, a dragon's tithe. Feed upon this prey, oh lord of the sky, and pass on into the night." Pip crouched on a branch above, eyes whirling in moltn green. Had it been night, they would have glowed. As the mice ventured from the box, Pip was diving, claws outstretched. They scattered, and Pip hunted them with speed and cunning. In a matter of ten minutes, the mice were gone, and Pip was atop Donnie shoulder once again, purring. Donne smiled at his friend, and took the wash cloth he had snagged from the basket of towels and cleaned the blood from the dragon's snout. "I don't think Sarah would be too keen on having you in her lap all the time if she saw you hunt as you did, my bloodied drake." Pip licked blood from between his claws as Donnie scrubbed away at the spatter. As the dragon purred and dozed in the warmth of Donnie's hood, he walked through the woods thinking. Perhaps it is time I become more the hunter. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on February 23, 2007, 11:05:32 PM Tuesday evening Sarah stood in the scruff of grass at the bottom of the hill. There were deep ruts of turned up soil a few feet away and shards of broken glass scattered about. The hill itself was torn and ripped all the way up to the highway above. The barrier at the top had been beaten back into shape and reinforced. Still evidence of what had happened. "Why did that man take me? Did he know I had powers?" Sarah kicked through the dirt wondering how to find out. "If he knew... then maybe he knew how I got them. Was he from the lab? Was it the lab or was it from before? Why don't they have a home test kit for the mutant gene? Maybe I could find out anyway. Take the test and then just have them forget. No... there would be a record. Something I couldn't get to. Something I couldn't erase. Dammit. Maybe Colin or Megan could find a way." "Can I help you miss?" asked a man's voice from several feet off. Sarah spun to see who had snuck up on her. He was dressed in a golf course jacket and hat and one of those little carts could be seen through the trees. "Did you get turned around coming from the baseball field?" Sarah nods dumbly for a moment before finding her voice. "Uh yes.. I mean no.. I just went for a walk. I knew I could get back okay. I mean it's a straight line along the highway right? Then I saw this." She points up at the hill. "Yeah, there was an accident a few weeks ago here. I'll have to ask you to leave miss. You're on the golf course grounds now. I can give you a lift back to the park if you like?" Sarah nods again. She hadn't really been sure why she was here in the first place. "That would be great thanks." She followed the course employee back to his little golf cart and hopped into the passengers side. As the electric motor kicked in the man extended his hand. "Michael Parker." Sarah takes the proferred hand and replies, "Jane Spofford." "Nice to meet you Jane." "Nice to meet you Michael." They drive in silence for a minute before Sarah asks, "Did someone die there?" Michael replies, "Yes. A man went off the road after having a seizure. I have a cousin on the force who was on the scene. He told me what happened." Sarah nodded, "So what did happen? Who was he?" Michael seemed glad enough to dish on local events and continued, "Walters. Uh... Thomas Walters. He worked for some personal security service in Chicago." Sarah looked suprised, "A bodyguard had a seizure? I thought they were supposed to be in good shape?" Michael shook his head, "Nah, it was a middle aged guy. Worked in the business office." "That makes a little more sense I guess." He continued, "Yeah, it's afterwards that weird things happened. My cousin said no one has claimed the body and the company dropped off the edge of the world after the police called to verify Walters' identity." Sarah looks honestly creeped, "Spooky. Think he was a spy or something?" Michael nods, "Maybe. Who knows. Well he's in the county morgue now." The two rode in silence for a couple of minutes as the cart made it's steady way along the walkway towards the ball park. When they reached the park Michael pulled the cart up towards the parking lot. "Do you have a ride to get home?" Sarah just shakes her head. "That's not very safe for a girl at night. Do you have a cell to call and get someone?" Sarah nods. "It's okay, I don't live far." Michael looks closely at Sarah, "Okay. You be careful out there." Sarah smiles, "I will and thanks for being so nice." Michael nods, smiling. "I'm always happy to help a damsel in distress. Or at least escort one out of a dark patch of woods and back to the street lights. Are you really sure I can't call someone?" Sarah sighs and smiles while pulling up her hood. "Positive. Oh and one other thing. I need you to remember me a little differently and forget that I'm telling you this." She erases her image and replaces it with a description of Jane as best she can to the glass eyed Michael before turning away and jogging off into the night. From a payphone a few blocks away she calls a cab and waits quietly in the shadows for twenty minutes until the headlights turn the corner. She steps out to the curb and raises her hand, face still shrouded into her hood. It pulls up and she climbs in and closes the door with her head down. "Cook County morgue please." The cabby, a heavy old man in his fifties, asked in a surprised tone, "The morgue! Why does a little thing like you want to go to the morgue after dark?" Still keeping her head down Sarah answers softly, "I have to identify my... my dad." "Aw sweetie...I'm so sorry. Don't you worry. I'll get you there quick and I'll wait to take you home after. I won't charge for the wait either." Sarah nodded, "That's very kind of you." The trip was quick and quiet as the poor cabbie didn't know what else to say to his fare. She handed a ten to the cabbie and stepped out of the cab. She glanced up at the building before shivering a little and going inside. "If this doesn't work I'm going to have to call Colin to explain everything," she thinks to herself. A security officer sits behind a desk in the lobby. He was a large black man but an older, in his mid fifties. He had a little grey in his hair but he still looks like he could jump over the desk and tackle someone. Sarah keeps her hood up and her head down as she enters the building. "I can't convince a camera I wasn't here. I'd need Sylvia for that." She walked up to the desk and kept looking down. The officer stands up as she approaches. "Can I help you miss?" he asks in a concerned tone. "I'm here to identify my father," says Sarah. "I'm so sorry honey. They usually do that during regular office hours. Didn't anyone tell you that?" Sarah shook her head, "No. They said it was a special case. He's one of your mysteries. They said there would be someone waiting for me." The security officer, whose name tag read 'Smith', says, "I'll just call over and clear this up with someone. It might take them a few minutes to find the right person so you can have a seat over there if you like." He gestures towards a small waiting area with a few chairs, and a coffee table scattered with old battered magazines. When he reaches for the phone Sarah says, "Wait. You don't need to call up." The man hesitates for a moment before shaking his head, 'I'm sorry miss but it is procedure to contact the offices before allowing anyone in, day or night." Sarah blinks, "It didn't work!" she thinks. The guard picks up the phone and brings it to his ear. Sarah tries one more time, focusing all her will on the guard. She feels her heart speed up and her head begin to throb. "You just called and got clearance to send me back." It felt like she was getting a migraine and the energy drained from her like she had come down with the flu. She wobbles a bit and raises her arms for balance. The guard blinkes and put the phone down. "You're all set miss. Are you going to be okay? I can call back again and have someone help you back there. I would but I can't leave my station." Sarah shakes her head again, "No, no... I'll be okay. I just want to get this over." Smith gives her a look of pity, "I understand honey. You just head on back and take the elevator down two floors. The offices are straight ahead." Sarah nods again and heads through the doors after the guard presses a hidden buzzer and unlocked them. She walks slowly, head down and face out of any cameras. She walks slowly because she feels like throwing up. The guard had shaken off her efforts and she'd had to strain herself to change his mind. If it happened again she didn't know if she could keep standing. That would be the end of things. She presses the button of the elevator with the sleeve of her sweatshirt covering a knuckle and went down two floors with another knuckle press. The doors opens into a brightly lit hallway and she can see an office at the end with a light on. Several other rooms were dark along the way. A janitor is taking trash out of a room down a side hall and checking to make sure he had locked up again. A circle of keys jingle on his belt. "Plan B," she thinks. Sarah knocks on the office door as she enters. A tired looking woman glances up from her paperwork. When she realizes a stranger stood there her brow pinches and she asks, "How did you get back here?" Sarah answers quickly, "I was buzzed in. One of the medical examiners called the front desk and let them know I was coming. I guess they forgot to tell you? I'm sorry. I'm here to identify my father." The woman's face softens at the last comment. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry for your loss. What were they thinking dragging a little thing like you down here after hours to this place? They should know better! Are you sure they said come tonight honey? It's pretty unusual." Sarah nods, "Yes, I'm sure. I guess my father is one of your mysteries. Thomas Walters?" The woman nods in return, "Yes, one of several. The police have been calling every other day to see if anyone has come down to identify the body. Well let's get you down there. I will just need to see some identification." "Here we go," thinks Sarah. She takes a deep breath and tries her powers on the woman. "You've seen my identification and my name is Jane. We've already identified the body and now you are supposed to take me to where they keep personal belongings and show me Thomas Walters effects." There was a moment of silence and Sarah crossed her fingers. The woman finally spoke up, "Well... I'm so sorry for your loss dear. I can take you to collect his belongings now." Sarah just nods and thinks, "Why do I feel so sick about this? I suppose it's because I'm rewriting people's brains like they're some kind of computer hard drive. Yeah that might do it." The woman leads her down another hallway past the janitor and she unlocks the door to a room marked PE Storage. She unlocks a file cabinet and pulls out a folder. Inside Sarah catches a glimpse of a picture of a familiar face, peaceful in repose in front of, or rather, on top of a metal background. Her stomach lurches and her heart starts hammering, suddenly remembering the car rolling over down the hill. Remembering the kindly way he had spoken with her. The amusing small talk. Remembering that she killed this man. The woman closes the folder after consulting a note and returned the folder. She leads Sarah through another door, flipping a switch just inside. They enter a large room filled with lockers along the walls and creating a divider wall down the middle. She walks down the aisle until she finds the number she is looking for and unlocks it with yet another key. She pulls a box filled with a collection of plastic bags and put it on a table. "You will need to sign this form after you take a look. We have a list of everything in here but you should look through to make sure. Accidents can happen. We haven't misplaced anything in years but it's happened." Sarah nods again and pulls the bags out of the box and looks at everything. It suddenly occurs to her that she had no idea what she was looking for. She pushes the bags around, a large sack of clothes. Another with shoes. She puts those back in the box. A wallet, she pushes to the side. A cell phone goes next to it. A pile of loose change gets dropped next to it. A collection of business cards follows the wallet and phone. A ring. Sarah stares at the ring. "A wedding ring? Does he have a family that is looking for him?" She looks closely at the ring and sees that there are small designs over the ring. Lettering in a strange script and in the center a circle created by two joining curved horns. "Not a wedding ring." She scoops up wallet, phone cards and ring and shoves them in her pocket. She carries the box over to the locker and returns it saying, "Can these be burned. I just.. the thought of the clothes he wore that day... I can't," Sarah strugglsd to convey a loss she didn't really feel. Unless it was a loss of her self. "Lies, lies, lies." The woman says, "I understand dear. We can take care of that for you. There is a note for that on the form here and we can talk about the other matters back in my office." Sarah asks startled, "Other matters?" "Yes dear," the woman says, "we'll need to talk about arrangements for your father." "Oh," is all Sarah can say. After the locker is closed up and they have returned to the office Sarah takes the form from the woman. She reaches for a pen but knocks the whole cup over under the woman's desk. She gasps and apologizes, "I'm so sorry! Can I help you?" The secretary waves her off, "Oh no dear, there's barely enough room back here for me?" She ducks beneath the desk and when she disappears Sarah asks, "Ma'am? Can you here me down there?" The woman calls back, "Yes dear, did you have a question?" Sarah says, "Oh no.. I just wanted you to forget that I came in here or that you ever saw me or spoke with a girl in the morgue tonight." There was silence under the desk, except for the rustling of pens. In a quiet tone the secretary spoke to herself, "How did all these pens get down here?" Sarah nodded and quietly crept out. Down the hall the janitor nods to the hooded Sarah. She nods back on her way towards the exit. She calls the elevator while tucking the paperwork in her inside pocket with Walters' belongings. The elevator is waiting for her and opens with a chime. She enters quickly and presses the ground floor button remembering to keep her head down in the elevator in case of cameras. When the doors open she walks down the hall and through the doors, pushing with her shoulder and hip. She steps through and starts walking towards the exit when the guard calls out, "That was fast." Sarah just keeps walking, "Wasn't him." The guard calls, "I'm sorry they dragged you down her for nothing then." She answers, "Thanks. Have a good night." In the parking lot a taxi sits idling. A few minutes later they were driving along. Sarah directs the cabbie to an address four blocks away from home. She fishes some money out of Walters' wallet and pays the cabbie. The cabbie thanks her and adds, "I'm really sorry about your father. I lost my dad when I was a kid to. It was in the war. They say he was a hero but it didn't make it any easier to lose him. Good luck kid." The lies Sarah has been telling all night jab into her guts and twist. She chokes and nods before closing the cab door and running off towards a dark house. The cab pulls away after a moment. "Lies, lies, lies!" screams in her head all the way home. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: BaboonBill on February 24, 2007, 10:20:09 AM Tuesday night, some time after three AM.. She sits in a half-lit kitchen, the bottle and glass in front of her. The bottle is half-empty (it is always half empty to her) and the majority of the ice in the ice-bucket has melted away. There is a heavy flapping noise of canvas in the wind outside the double door that leads from kitchen to patio as a shadow darkens the backyard. Shortly after, the presence is gone, and the door to the patio slides open. She doesn't look up. Donnie pauses at the back patio door. His body ached, his head hurt, and his heart was broken. His mom was waiting up for him. His shoulders slump ito the customary cringe, as he expected withering comments. He walked into the kitchen, sliding closed and locking the patio door. "Hi mom." His mother sighs, as if she were too weary to do this now. "Where have you been?" "The park mostly." "I thought you were going to see a friend's band play in a coffee shop." "I was, but Sylvia and I had a talk beforehand. I think we broke up." His mother was silent for a moment, and Donnie began to hope. Hope that perhaps she would turn and comfort him, say soothing words to help bathe his wounded heart. But no. "I told you she was too good for you. You should have expected it." It was not to be. His mother could not change that much in such a short time. "It was a matter of time before some tall handsome strong jock caught her eye." Donnie stood there, tears trembling in his eyes, until the flood could no longer be held back. Twin trails slid down his cheeks, and he turned away from her, face raw with emotion. Mary Douglas never looked away from the bottle. She picked it up, pouring a half measure into the empty glass, and added two melting ice cubes. Picked it up. Drank. Donnie felt bereft. No love from Sylvia (Curse her betraying manipulative heart!) and no warmth at home to return too. He fought an impulse to reach over and smash the bottle from the table, smiling as it shattered on the cold stone-tiled floor. But he was too tired, too heartworn, too empty. He said no more, and did not wish to give her opportunity to say more. As he walked up the stairs, he winced at his most hated sound: ice hitting an empty glass, the clink if the bottle on the cup. Reaching his room, he had presence of mind enough to turn on his alar, then fell face first into the bed after shedding jacket and pants. He thought he would cry, but his tears had been spent. He was asleep in moments, aching inside to have someone else to talk to, someone uncomplicated, without motive. Someone.. Title: Halloween Costume Post by: Kat on March 03, 2007, 04:30:41 PM It had worked out rather nicely that Sammy and Elrod would be playing a "catch me if you can" kind of game at his Halloween party, but Sammy had another, more compelling reason for not telling anyone how she was dressing for the event. She was still very concerned about her friend Heather and the bee attacks, and felt that it might not really all be over with yet. She decided that on the night of the party, she and Heather would switch costumes, and switch places. It wouldn't be all that hard to do. Heather and Sammy were very similar in height and build, and the differences in their hair color wouldn't show with a wig or in poor lighting conditions. Masks would cover each of their faces well enough to throw off all but the most attentive observer. Sammy felt fairly certain that Heather would buy into the idea, without ever knowing that it was for Heather's own protection. Simply, Heather was never allowed to wear "sexier" types of costumes; her parents, liberal arts professors at a nearby college, were very firmly in favor of accurate historical costumes. Last year Heather had been forced to go to school as Anne Boleyn, post-beheading. She only had two very small holes to look through, and so managed to fall down a flight of stairs and sprain her wrist before the day was out. This year, her mother decided that Heather would be a famous femme fatale, Lucrezia Borgia, and had rented what actually was a very nice Italian Renaissance style gown. Heather hated it. She would have given every penny in her bank account to go as something normal, like a pirate wench or a french maid. When Sammy proposed that they go to Elrod's party together and switch costumes at some point early in the evening to play a joke on all the others, Heather was all for the idea. Sammy would provide a tight fitting black cat costume with a cat hood and a black 3/4 mask. Heather convinced her mother that it wouldn't be Halloween without a mask, so an ornate face mask ( http://www.aidan-campbell.co.uk/images/comm_mask.jpg (http://www.aidan-campbell.co.uk/images/comm_mask.jpg) or http://mijnposter.nl/thumbs/527/056s.jpeg (http://mijnposter.nl/thumbs/527/056s.jpeg) ) and veil were added to her own order. Heather would get to be sexy for a change, and Sammy would be in line to take on any attacks aimed at her friend. Heather was doubly excited when she discovered that doing this might help Sammy win the game with Elrod. She thought the whole thing was very romantic. http://www.comune.fe.it/diamanti/mostra_lucrezia/quadri/q01.htm (http://www.comune.fe.it/diamanti/mostra_lucrezia/quadri/q01.htm) Title: The night before Seattle Post by: Gaea on March 07, 2007, 06:28:42 AM I'll swim backwards. I'll swim backwards. I'll swim backwards. I'll swim backwards into sleep. The mnemonic carried Seth to sleep. The last glimpse he got was of his alarm clock. It said 3:14. The AM dot was bright red. And blinking...Did it always blink? Did it always blink and make that sound...that ringing? Shit the alarm was ringing. There was trouble. Seth flicked a hand to the wall. It swiveled around, and despite its heavy weight, moving it was small turkey. Seth sat up from his couch and walked into the air. With his thoughts focused, he altered the atoms of his clothing. Every single one. It took barely a minute. Clad now in the costume he had worn the last decade of his public career, he was ready to defend the public. He looked at the alarm and turned it off with a mental click. His city needed him. Seth left his lair the quickest way possible...He shifted his body through the wall, again...atom by atom. It took mere moments. And soon he was flying across his acreage. Or was it the city. It didn't matter, he had places to be. He was there now. Downtown Chicago. Smoke billowed from the new Howell Metascraper. The gravitics that powered it were failing. Two miles of shining promethium tower were about to come crashing down under their own weight. Megan was going to be extremely pissed. She would get over it quickly. The screaming the screaming the screaming all around. He was now on a street corner. People were crying, babies...the elderly. Someone shouted "Is it terrorists?" Who would blow up a building? And who could blow up the Howell tower. It was built of a metal so dense that it didn't even naturally occur. It was powered by the latest in technology. The first metascraper. A testament to the revitalized American spirit. And it has been built by a friend of his. Someone would pay. Seth shivered. No... Palladium shivered. He was in costume. He had a mission. He was standing...hovering in front of the building. He couldn't see...He didn't need to. Debris was starting to fall. Desks...ruffage, falling out of windows.. The flick of fires visible. The smoke and dust more than any lung should have to build. He felt it. A dense muscled creature. It was moving through the building. Leaping with it's muscled legs, crashing through the solid floors with little sign of stopping. He could feel the superhumanly enhanced muscles contracting. Could feel the cells converting ATP. He could feel it. He could stop it. The stupid brute didn't have a chance. Seth flicked him with a thought. Over 1 ton of metahuman went flying out the side of the building. Seth hoped...Palladium hoped it hurt. The meta punched through like a bullet through butter....went sailing out into Lake Michigan. He reached the speed of sound. The sonic boom on naked flesh sure to cause at least a passing irritation. And then he began to slow. He hit the sound barrier again. And gravity took hold. He fell. Skipping over Lake Michigan and eventually he came to a watery stop a few dozen miles off the cost. Seth turned his attention to the tower, gleaming in the sunlight, up here above the damage. He began to focus on repairing the walls. Elsewhere the meta threat had touched lake bottom. Angry now, he kicked off the ground with all his massive strength. Sailing out of the water with a massive amount of inertia he modulated his profile so he could intercept the Superhero who had dared to stop him. He flew closer and closer in his wide leaping arc. He came as close as 10 feet. And he was stopped motionless, jarringly so without any discernible force operating on him. Ten feet from his back. HE tried to swing a massive arm at the man but he couldn't. Palladium turned to face the strong man. Turned to face him with a critical hate filled eye. "There are dead down there. Dead children. Dead mothers. Why...? The man snarled. "Because it was their turn to die. Just as it's your turn to die....Freak." He again tried to take a swing at Seth. He broke free of what force he could not feel, and backhanded the hero across the face....The massive force of the crack shattered windows across the bay. It stopped at skin to skin. Seth for his part merely smiled, showing no signs of damage...His force field had taken care of that. "No my friend..." Seth's voice turning sinister, no more the hero. "It's your turn to die." He hurled the murderer down at the ground with all his might. The man carved into the pavement perhaps 200 feet deep. Seth was pleased to feel his clavicle's shatter under the force of the impact. He set them back into place, and fused the bones. He had been told in the past it was a painful process. Seth made sure of it this time. He dragged the man out of the hole his impact had created. Keeping the man upside down, with the thought and care of a child erasing a drawing, Seth drew the man's head through the pavement. Back and forth, over and over again. Until there wasn't any point anymore. Disposing of the man's corpse with a flick, again into Lake Michigan., he focused on the tower. Finding the Promethium shards, he bent them back into shape. Putting all of them back where they belonged like a 3-D puzzle. He soldered them back into place by exciting the surrounding molecules until they ignited to well over the heat of the sun. When the tower was structurally sound again, Seth gathered the debris, the smoke, the dust, and hurled them into the furnace of the sun.. He landed again on the ground. Content, but tired that the city was safe. Suddenly he was in front of a mirror. His hair looked much the same as it always had. Longer, maybe. It covered one half of his face. Seth was pleased with the other. It looked heroic. Handsome. He removed the mask from his face, and in the second he did, his hand brushed the hair out of his face. The other side was disfigured. Bloody, pumping masses and mounds of diseased and corpulent flesh. He recoiled. In the mirror behind him, Seth as he was at 15, his past, stared back at him...in horror. As he looked again in the mirror, the eye on the good side of his face rolled out of the side of his face, on the tentacled end of more tumorous growth. His skin over there began to mottle and discolor. Soon, visible "maggots" began to crawl underneath the good side as well. He closed his remaining eye. With an audible and wet tear, he knew that the skin on his face had ripped off, and he could feel it as the tumor in his brain Exploded out of his skull, destroying him the process. He was himself. The boy Seth, 15. Watching his adult self's death. Watching the tumor blot all the evil that he could become out of existence. He began to choke, on something. And he began to vomit. Tumors. Tumors. Tumors vomiting out of him. Onto the floor , next to the writhing mass that had once been his adult self. He was going to..... Seth woke up in a cold sweat. His body was shaking, and he was covered in vomit. He was scared. His heart was racing, and he fought to keep his head under control. No headache, no headache...he was thankful there wasn't a headache. He rolled out of bed. Out of his comforter. He stripped out of his pajamas, and slipped on a pair of boxers. His hands still shaking, he grabbed his clothes and his sheets, and went to the bathroom, he scrapped the remains of his nightmare into the sink and tried to wash them away... When that was done, he made his way downstairs...He was starting to feel more normal now. He put the whole bunch in the washing machine and added a double dose of detergent just to be sure. Making his way back upstairs, he was sure the clock was wrong. It was only 3:45? It felt like a hours had passed. He felt older. He grabbed his iPod and plugged into a happy song. He was still shaking, but he felt loads better.... He needed fresh aire. He went back downstairs. Made his way onto the back porch. It was freezing. He was still only in his boxers. He put on an indie dance song. He tried to get into it. He even started dancing. Franticly in the night. His only companion the light from his iPod as he constantly modulated the volume. His arms were in the air. His legs were pumping. Everything was shaking.... He fell to the ground and began to sob. His mom woke up an hour later, hysterical. He suddenly realized he was freezing. A fine layer of melted frost on his mostly naked body. Setito...You weren't in your bed...The sheets were missing. We couldn't find you. I almost....She rattled on and on....He just wanted a hug....The dried tears on his face felt heavy and so did he stood up. He hugged his mother hard and long, and she eventually settled down, and maybe even became a little more concerned. She offered for him to stay home from school. He couldn't...Not when he had to go to Seattle. Instead he kissed his mother on the head, and told her that he was going to take a warm shower, and then he would begin practicing the violin. It was 5 AM after all. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: thevshi on April 06, 2007, 05:24:49 PM Megan turned on the light in her dance studio, the mirrored walls reflecting the light some as she looked around the small room. Luckily the room was soundproofed, for it was a bit later in the evening, and her mom was likely trying to relax and her dad finishing things up in his study. She had finished her homework already, quite an easy task for her these days, and was now ready to put in some practice on the squad dance routines as well as just her own experimenting with dance moves. Starting the sound system to run the squadâ€™s dance playlist, Megan focused on the music, and was soon flowing through the squad routines, working to make every motion smooth, graceful and energetic. It took her a little over thirty minutes to go though all the squads dance routines. After that was done, she was taking a drink of water as she pulled up another playlist, this one filled with some of the best club songs she had. Wiping her forehead with a towel, she took another drink of water, and started the playlist. In a flash she was back out in the middle of the studio floor, just as the first song began. The blonde teen was immediately moving with the rhythm, her mind able to instantly run through a number of dance moves she had been working on to pick one to match the rhythm and still keep everything flowing smoothly as if it was all choreographed. This continued on for some time, when one of her favorite dance songs came on. It was off the Ministry of Sounds 2007 Annual, a remix of Taxi Dollâ€™s Waiting. Megan love the song because it had a rather unique beat and style that helped set it apart somewhat from other dance songs. But, lately there were other reasons she loved the song so much, she realized as she began moving to the beginning of the remix, which was over a minute of the primary beat to the song. There was so much of the song that made her think about John, and how she felt about his appearance in her life. As the first part of the lyrics began, the beat to the song slowed, as Megan, slowly turned and danced, listening to the wordsâ€¦ remember when I looked at you with a frown and then you showed me your crown and made me smile I went and sang for all the courage and tears and forgotten how fierce it felt to fly and now the road that gently bends at our feet has given love to the street we are making it right The beat picked up once more, and Megan began to dance a bit faster and with more intensity to the main chorusâ€¦ you know I've been waiting way too long so long I've been waiting alone for this I've been waiting much too long so long and now the waiting is gone As Megan danced, she thought about how this felt so true about how John had showed up in her life. Though it had not been all that long after Cal had moved away, she had felt an emptiness at Calâ€™s departure, one that the few dates she had went out on did not seem all that likely to fill. She did not know if it was due to her powers or not, but it had seemed like such a long and lonely time. Megan closed her eyes as she continued to dance and the next set of lyrics beganâ€¦ remember when I took your hand full of hope you showed how to provoke more in this world I can't explain you answered more than a prayer you put a smile in my ear a simple thought to attain now we go off into running the start and you have given me heart we are doing it right As she moved, Megan thought of John, his face, his eyes, the warmth of his body and the feeling of his arms around her. It has seemed so magical the interest he had shown in her from the moment they met. His willingness to so quickly confide in her about his powers had made her feel so much closer to him, far closer than most of the others she had actually known longer. In fact, if not for John, she was not sure how much time she really would spend around the others. She pushed those thoughts from her mind as she focused on the song, dancing, and pleasant thoughts of John... you know I've been waiting way too long so long I've been waiting alone for this I've been waiting much too long so long now the waiting is gone so you are bringing back something that I have lacked what I've been missing all along and baby you know you've got and I will give you what I have been holding for so long so long and now we go off into running the start and you have given me heart cause we are doing it right you know I've been waiting way too long so long way too long for this I've been waiting much too long too long now the waiting is gone As the song came to an end, Megan stopped dancing as a new song began, her eyes still closed and arms wrapped around herself as she was still lost in pleasant thoughts of John, a tear of happiness rolling down one of her cheeks. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: Jongluer on April 06, 2007, 09:08:43 PM October 29th, Evening to Early Morning Kel panted as he kept leaping over rooftops, he had no idea where he was at this point it had been hours since Fern's. Hadn't it? He wasn't sure, everything was still running through his mind too much. The party from saturday, the silence of the days past, and now meeting Batman. Batman who had asked him to be his apprentice, to be the next Batman. Batman, the name alone rung deep within Kel. He wasn't sure why, maybe it was that next to Japan, Chicago was the place he had stayed the longest. He was a hometown hero, and he was one hell of a hero. Greatest detective in the world at his time, real name never revealed even in death, avenger of the night, a knight watching over Chicago in its darkest times. Fighting back in the ways that had to be done but never crossing the line. And this new one, well Kel didn't know much about him but he could only assume he was the same way. He then heard a small shriek from an alleyway, within moments he was down on the ground and his fist into someone's face. Pounding the mugger, he didn't even register as the face became bloodied. Then about to bring down another swing he stopped, and let the man drop. Was this what Batman would've done? He wondered. Thinking back on the past few moments in slow motion, he dropped in then tackled him like a football player. There was no panache, no flair, no thought just pure battle. That wasn't how a dark avenger fought Kel thought, that's how soldiers fought. That's not Batman. He picked the guy up and carried him to the closest reliable police station he could think of: Hyde Park on the University campus. Kel was a little shocked he had come so deep into the city. Kel quickly scaled the roofs of Chicago again and begin a patrol route once more. This time though, he decided to pace himself, and think. He was going to be Batman in a few years, and could be under training by the summer. Kel had to stop thinking like a fighter, stop going into a situation like a cowboy. Noise, flash, and making himself a target, that wasn't what Batman did. He stalked, and came down with precision, he was swift. Kel needed to stop being Devil Dog and start being Batman. Then it hit him in mid stride, he couldn't declare himself Batman yet. Obviously there still was one but he still hadn't earned the title, he just wasn't that smooth yet. He needed something like Batman, some sort of costume, some sort of name, something that could strike fear like Batman, that could display the proper feeling, the conviction, the power. Something that would be muttered under the criminals breath in the same way his name had been in the 20s. Something that could allow the feeling to settle in before Batman arrived, to make his arrival on the scene perfect. Kel stood looking over the darker parts of Chicago. Watching these terrible streets go about their late night business and then he saw a bird flit past. It was as dark as the sky itself, and it let out a caw. First he snapped his fingers, Raven!, but then he thought of how stupid that was. There it was again, he thought as the bird once more flew by. It's wings were massive, he was wondering what it was doing around here. Just something about it. It was a real night time predator, like an owl. Nite-Owl! He thought and then shook his head, who would be afraid of an owl. It needed to be swift, sleek, and scary all at once. Then it hit him as he watched the bird stretch over the clouds above. Nightwing. Kel would be Nightwing till he became Batman, and then maybe he'd pass it on to the next heir, or maybe he'd call them something else Kel thought. But for now, he'd be Nightwing. He'd be smart, and swift, think before he acted, and actually put in the effort needed to clean up the streets. He'd be Nightwing. Kel nodded, that was his name for now, until he could earn the title Batman. He looked over the city as the sun rose, and he slipped back into his room in Oak Park. Soon, he promised, soon Nightwing will come to fly over you. But first Kel thought, as he yawned and fell onto his bed: Nightwing needed some sleep, and a costume, and he smiled, a sexy partner maybe, or a team of fellow crime fighters, and some special crime fighting stuff like Bat....but he had already fallen asleep. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: thevshi on July 15, 2007, 09:10:44 PM Monday, November 5th Megan’s afternoon was a hectic one as usual. After a brief stop at the Tasty Dog with John, she had to head off to cheerleading practice while he went to football practice. At practice they worked on the dance routine they were going to perform at the assembly on Friday, and on a few things for the game, then set about working on banners and the like which would be put up over the course of the week. She then met up with John at the end of football practice, so they could spend a few moments together behind the bleachers before John headed home. Megan then went to meet with Laura and some of the other upperclassmen from the Homecoming Committee to plan some things for Friday and the dance. The blonde teen thought ho nice it was to just get to talk about regular teen things for awhile. It was early evening by the time Megan’s mom picked her up to go home. After a quick dinner, she did a few chores and made her way up to her room, where she was soon on the phone with John to see how his studying was going and a bit of phone flirting. Once she let John get back to his studying, she started on her own homework, putting in twenty minutes of time, which at superspeed was over six hours of studying. After studying for such a long time, Megan felt the need to be out and moving, so she pulled out her Velocity costume and was soon speeding down the streets towards the city to see what she might find. 9:24 PM Passing through the art district of Chicago, where her and John had just been last Thursday, Megan saw lots of couples and twenty and thirty-somethings that were enjoying the evening, despite the cold in the air. While the area seemed safe, one could never tell when someone might almost be run over by a car or something, so she ran around the area for a bit. Half a dozen blocks later, she heard someone scream, “Hey, stop him! He took my purse!” Glancing around as she began to slow, Megan spotted a woman pointing down a nearby sidewalk, a man pushing through people as he ran away from her. Looks like I spoke too soon. She thought as sped over towards the fleeing purse thief, coming up in front of him as she came to a halt. Though, this is too easy. Casually sticking her foot out as she suddenly appeared right just to one side in his path, the thief barely had time to register she was there before he was on his way down to the pavement, where he hit hard. People on the sidewalk that were looking towards the sound of the screaming woman all looked over at Megan with surprise at her sudden appearance. A couple of men recovered quickly, moving in to grab the purse thief as he tried to get back to his feet, quickly subduing him. The woman who’s purse had been stolen quickly made her way over, giving Megan a look of gratitude. “Oh thank you, thank you so much.” Giving her a smile, the teen replied. “No trouble ma’am. Looks like you all have things well in hand till the police arrive. I should head off incase someone else needs my help.” Giving the gathering crowd a little wave, she was then off in a blur of movement and a WOOSH of air, heading back into the street and off towards other parts of the city. 10:32 PM Megan had moved to other parts of the city now, but still the night had been pretty quite. Then, the sounds of police sirens nearby had Megan start to slow slightly as she tried to look for the source of the sounds. Down a side street, she spotted a car zoom by, running a red light and almost causing an accident as it did, followed immediately by a police car, its lights flashing and siren blaring. Speeding up once more, the young superhero started along a parallel path with the pursued car, pulling out ahead of it as they covered several blocks. Once she had gotten ahead of it a good bit, she cut down a side street, moving to intercept the fleeing car. Megan zipped out into the street the high speed chase was taking place on, weaving between a few cars and pulling out just behind the car trying to outrun the police. Okay, now how the heck do I stop this thing? Megan thought to herself as she started to close with the car. As she came up to the speeding car, the teen swung out to the right side, pulling up alongside the car and looking inside. There were several men in the car who were anxiously looking back at the pursuing police cars. Two of them looked over at her, yelling something that caused the driver to quickly turn his head to look her direction. With a quick motion, the driver caused the car to swerve to the right, steering the fast moving mass of metal towards Megan. The blonde teen felt adrenaline surge through her veins as everything seemed to be moving slowly from her perception. She started to speed up, trying to get past the car before it hit her, but quickly realized that she could not outrun it. But Megan’s reflexes kicked in as she jumped off the pavement as the car closed in towards her. Lifting her legs up, she slid across the hood of the car as it continued towards where she had just been, sideswiping a parked car as she slid off the other side and had her feet back under her in an instant and was running once more. She started to pull away to the left from the car as the driver tried to get the car back under control. Megan’s right hand was a blur of movement as she pulled several marbles from the pouch on her belt at rapid speed, launching them at the car’s front tire. The tire exploded, causing the vehicle to swerve completely out of control as Megan sped away. Swerving wildly, the car slammed sideways into a light pole, caving in the side of the car as it came to a sudden halt. Megan skidded to a halt half a block past where the car had crashed, looking back as the pursuing police cars also were stopping and the officers starting to get out. The men in the car did not seem like they were in any shape to try to fight, so Megan gave the cops a quick salute and then was off down the street once more. 11:54 PM Megan sped around to her back yard, having run through a few more areas of the city and not really coming across anything else. Heading up to her room, she quickly changed and got ready for bed, looking forward to getting some sleep before tomorrow. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: BaboonBill on July 19, 2007, 01:52:14 PM Inspired by Cassie's use of Donnie later in his life in the Gamma Squad game, I had the urge to craft a little story of Donnie, many years from 2011. I used to have a regular blog, but lost interest after a while last year. Since it's a tale of the future here and it really doesn't have to do with Gamma Squad, I put the story up in my blog. Demons and Loss (http://billsburrow.com/blog/) Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on October 05, 2007, 03:32:24 PM Just before Thanksgiving... Making a call. Sarah peels the plastic bag off the back of her dresser mirror and pours the contents out on the table. She fished out the cellphone she kept charged. It was still activated. She dialed the last called number and let it ring. The line picked up and a deep male voice answered. "Who is this?" Sarah responded "Who am I calling?" There was humor in the voice that replied, "And who wants to know that?" "The girl you tried to kidnap," she said. A long moment of quiet followed on the other line. Sarah was worried she'd screwed it all up. "Hello?" "Ah, here you are. Sarah." Sarah felt her skin turn ice cold at the realization that they knew who she was. The voice continued. "We thought you'd been badly injured in the accident and it had been glazed over by the press due to your age. They do that quite often when there are more juicy stories to cover. Are you all right then Sarah? We would never want to see you come to any harm. Certainly not a girl as special as you." "What do you mean?" she asked nervously. Did they know that much? Where had she slipped up. She wasn't Colin. She didn't fly under anyone's radar. "Come now Sarah, no need to be modest. One of our clients has made a special request for someone just like you and we'd love for you to meet with him. I'm sorry if Thomas' methods were rather discourteous. He was on his way to retirement and every arrangement finalized was another bonus he needed to pad his portfolio for the golden years. Sadly his heart hadn't the fortitude to keep up with the rest of him." She felt a pang of guilt about this man's comment on Tomas' heart. She caused the accident. Her power knocked him out... maybe stopped his heart. Arrangement? These people are buying and selling super powers? Why not? Get leverage on them and governments, criminals, terrorists could do quite a bit of harm. The voice was still talking. "...so when can we expect to meet you?" "What?" exclaimed a startled Sarah. "Well now that we know you are in good condition we really do wish to make your acquaintance. Our client will be ecstatic to hear of your continued good health." "Why on Earth would I ever meet you?" "Why did you call me?" Good question. "Because I wanted to know what was going on. I wanted to know why someone took me from a skate park in front of a dozen witnesses." "I've told you Sarah. It is because we think you are special. You have the unique qualifications our client is looking for and is willing to pay a sizable about of money to acquire. So can we pick you up some time tomorrow?" "What?" she says again. "Oh dear, perhaps we don't have the best connection. Or perhaps you find some part of what I say to be incredulous. Preposterous? I assure you we are very interested in connecting with you." "No!" she nearly shouted before realizing her parents were still awake downstairs. "Well that is a shame. I'm sorry you feel that way. How is your younger brother Martin doing? I hope his skating antics haven't caused him any injury recently. It is a terrible shame to see a child come to harm. You would be very sad if something happened to your little brother wouldn't you Sarah? Or your mother or father? They commute every day don't they? Did you know that statistically there is a traffic fatality in the greater Chicago area almost twice every day of the year? The numbers of serious injuries from collisions is ten times that." "You can't do that," said Sarah with conviction. "No? Can you or even the police keep track of them all day every day? I don't think so. Sooner or later everyone relaxes and lets their guard down. The police don't have an endless budget and they tend to save the witness relocation program for people who have something to offer them." She countered, "They don't have to. I give them this phone and they hunt you down." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Oh Sarah, who would believe you that you were being kidnapped over the phone? I see here that you never filed a police report about the incident. It seems you were never reported at the scene. Interesting. Then if you give the police my phone number I will know very quickly and simply not use the phone again. That will be the end of the matter as far as they are concerned. Then when you think I've gone away and forgotten all about you, you'll get a terrible message at school. Something has happened to your father," A pause for a moment and the sound of a mouse click. "Robert, or your mother Diane. I'll call back from a different phone and offer you the choice again Sarah. You'll run out of family long before I run out of patience." Sarah knew he was right. She thought, not for the first time of calling Colin and the rest and asking for their help. These were terrible people. They were stealing supers and extorting their families. Can I risk any of my friends to these people? What if they have people with powers working for them? What if this is Vandross? "All right," she said after a long pause. "Just... just give me a couple of days okay?" "Certainly dear. I imagine your school vacation starts tomorrow. Why don't you drop by at the end of the week? Remember not to do anything foolish. I really don't enjoy harming other people but I also don't have any qualms about it. Call me." *click* Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on October 19, 2007, 03:49:33 PM A few days later... Sarah popped over near the agreed area and walked around the corner. A man stood quietly in front of an unmarked door. She stepped up to him and said, "I'm here." He opened the door and gestured her inside. Inside the building was a large open warehouse space. Several tough looking men loitered about the room. Some spoke quietly on cellphones while others chatted amongst themselves. Standing next to a stack of crates with takeout coffee and a laptop was a tall well dressed man. He was in the middle of a phone call but ended it quickly the moment he noticed her. Closing the phone he walked over to meet he at the door. He said, "Well done Miss Rollins. You are a very brave girl. A very smart girl to see that you had no choice and no way to win. I am Hollander." He looked her up and down briefly with an appraising eye. "I think a smart girl like you will not have such a hard time adjusting to her new circumstances. You may even find yourself a niche and gain some freedoms before long. You will meet the client shortly. Please follow this gentleman in black to a changing room where you will discard of your possessions and change into the provided outfit." Hollander signaled to another thug in black who escorted Sarah to a small internal room with no ceiling. Sarah followed meekly along. He offered her a cardboard box and told her to put all of her belongings in it. She had little in the way of possessions. House keys, a few dollars and her phone. Behind the door on a hook was a leotard. Guess they want a demonstration of my powers. I'll just have to give them one. But why the leotard? She stared at the man in black hoping he'd turn around. He didn't. "Can you turn around please?" "Nope." was all he said in reply. She sighed and changed with her back turned. She could hear him smiling. Morpheus was surprisingly quiet today. After the leotard she was given a set of pins to put her hair up in a bun. Why do they want my hair up? When her clothes were bundled up she handed them over and strode out of the closet with the straight backed step she used to carry across the gym floor during a competition. She never cared for them but she knew how to act. They walked back over to Hollander. She spoke her thought aloud to him. "Why do you want me to wear this?" The man smiled and replied, "The client requests it. He would like a demonstration of your talents before the final agreement. Normally I would refuse such a frivolous request but he is one of my best customers." Sarah clarifies her question, "What does your client want me to do then?" "For now he would just like to verify you are what we say and not just a pretty little girl in a costume," said Hollander. They really do know. But do they know I can teleport? "Can you tell me something specific?" she asked nervously. Hollander smiled and said, "Certainly dear. Just put on a simple little show. A few tumbles, a split and maybe a cartwheel or something." Wha??? They don't know. They just think I'm some girl who can do a backflip. The realization of what that probably meant sunk in. Eww!! Nasty bunch of dirty old men and their sicko fantasies. I am sooo not pulling my punches. She smiles tightly at Hollander. “I'll give him a show.” Hollander nodded back and said, “I knew from the start you were a very smart girl.” She was offered a soda. She just shook her head. She'd fallen for that trick with Thomas. She wasn't going to let them drug her again. Sarah was focusing now. Events were all in a straight line before her. She would run through them until the end without thinking. She would do her routine and stop to think at the end. A short time later a car pulled up outside and an man dressed in a lightweight casual suit and fedora strolled in with an obvious bodyguard close behind. The client spoke with Hollander in what she thought was a strong Russian accent ... making small talk it sounded like. Soon he was brought over to see her. The man's eyes sparkled with delight. "Oh.. oh my, you have exceeded my expectations. I am very pleased... but I must know... she is real?" Hollander nodded and gestured off to the side where a series of mats were lain out. "Sarah, why don't you give the gentleman a brief display of your gymnastic talents." Sarah nodded again stiffly and stepped towards the mat. At the edge she stopped and judged the length of it. It was fairly long so she could do a bit of running. She charged forward into a sprint and then leapt into a front handspring, turning into a twisting no hand cartwheel and a double back flip and up into a back flip twist, landing at the far edge of the mat with her arms raised up above her. There was applause at the far end of the mat. Hollander gestured for her to return. All of his men from around the warehouse had gathered to watch the performance except for the man on the door. She couldn't have asked for anything better. Her arms lowered and she started running again and setting into another series of tumbles. A double forward handspring, roundoff and into one back flip, a second and a third that sent her off the edge of the mat right towards the center of the group that was already moving to catch her from her overshot. That was when she disappeared. A heartbeat later her staff was in her hand and she stood behind the closest thug. The staff struck home and she was gone in a another beat slamming it in a spinning arc into the next closest before hopping over to the Russian and letting the light force slice across his chest. She vanished and struck again and again. Because she was in their midst, the bodyguards couldn't use their guns without shooting one another. Hollander was before her with a look of surprise and his hand holding a gun. He didn't care about other people's lives. He pulled the trigger but Sarah's staff sent the bullet shaving off. She vanished again, appearing behind him and striking hard. He managed to stagger back and fire again at Sarah with the same result, a bullet pinging into the dark corner of the warehouse. Her second swing took him low and he collapsed to the floor unconscious. Suddenly a barrage of bullets raced at her. The Russian's bodyguard had a small machine gun and was spraying the area she stood in. Sarah was forced to concentrate on deflecting his attack. The stream of bullets was gone in a just a few seconds. Sarah vanished, appearing next to the bodyguard and swung in an arc, swinging straight down over his head and sending him tumbling to the ground. Sarah popped again and dropped with an attack from above on the last thug, and dropped him to the floor for nap time. There was a slam of the door as the Russian burst out. Sarah ran after him and exited the building in time to see him peeling out of the parking lot and onto the street. Just like the movies. Just like the movies. GO! She vanished and appeared down the road some distance in front of the car as it barreled towards her. She could see the Russian's face when he stomped on the gas and the car jumped at her, closer and closer. She watched the vehicle and at the last moment vanished. The driver never touched his breaks until he took the next turn hard. One hundred yards down the road he glanced in his rear view mirror to see if he was being followed. From the back seat Sarah asked, "So where are we going?" The car swerved and jerked as the man simultaneously tried to keep an eye on her, drive and pull his gun out. He didn't see the armored bank truck pull into the crossroad in front of him. When she vanished again he sighed and turned back to the road. Sarah watched from a nearby rooftop and thought that in the movies there would have been an explosion. But the Russian had no seatbelt on so there didn't need to be one really. The guards were out with their weapons and she heard a siren start in the distance. Back at the warehouse she dug out and opened one of the thugs phones. She dialed 911 and told them simply, "Someone is kidnapping children to sell. There is a warehouse at ADDRESS with a bunch of goons in it. Me? Nobody. Just a concerned citizen. Don't wait too long." She left the phone on in the corner so they could trace it if they like. She gathered up her belongings and then walked back over to the crowd of unconscious men. That was when she noticed Hollander was gone. She looked around and found his laptop was gone as well but a small note was sitting on the crate. ' Be seeing you soon Sarah -H ' Sarah spent the next two minutes speaking quietly to the unconscious thugs. She told them they weren't that bad. They had been feeling worse and worse about what they were doing. They wanted to tell the police what was going on. After all they hardly had a choice. Hollander was calling all the shots. She spoke with her power and hoped that it would sink into enough of them to take hold. She watched from a shadowed rooftop when the police kicked open the front door. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on November 09, 2007, 09:27:32 PM Sarah sat at her desk after watching Preston fiddle with soldering gun and magnifying lens for most of the night. She sat staring at a notebook and wondering. The name Emille Vandross was written across the page. Below that she was writing anagrams Lars Evil demons Smile and Resolve Real demons livs lime navel dross (eww!) slime and lovers devil or salesman mindless velor She slowly penned the words out wondering, hoping if it would be a clue or just another sidetrack... Title: Christmas: Need Money Now! Post by: opensesame on December 20, 2007, 10:51:57 PM Sarah followed Dave's advice and with his help soon had contacts with three different courier services in the area. One was on the books but the other two she was able to score under the table pay. The clock was ticking and she had money to make in a hurry! With her cellphone and two beepers strapped to her bag she hopped from point to point in the city. She couldn't even imagine doing this on a bike. An icy drizzle fell over the city and she was already soaked. Her packages were the only thing dry on her. She shivered a bit as she got the signature in the front lobby of a law firm. She hoped they would get distracted so she could loiter a bit in the warm before sending her out the door. "All set. Thank you. Have a nice afternoon," said the woman behind the counter with a plastered on smile. So much for that... Sarah was back out into the grey wet afternoon and on to the next location. She switched log books to the second company and popped through the building to a quiet office. She left quickly before she left drips all over and took the elevator back down to the main floor to deliver the package. The afternoon and early evening went quickly as she returned twice to each agency for a new mission. Each time she had to remember to retrieve the bike she'd borrowed from Rob from it's hiding spot and lean it near the other couriers. Tony from agency #3, as if she could keep any of the company names straight, handed her a slip of paper and pointed to the door. "It's a rush job and nobody else wanted to take it. They're all sitting back there drying out and pretending not to hear me yell at them. You're new so you don't get that luxury. Get out there!" Sarah blinked owlishly at Tony and he softened a bit, "But hey have fun. You're young right? This is stuff you'll tell your kids about." Yeah right. It will be right up there with getting covered with exploding monster ectoplasm. Sarah turned around with her head lowered and took her bike back out into the rain. A few moments later she and the bike were both safely concealed on a nearby rooftop. From the roof she looked out across the city and compared it to a map and the address. A moment later rain fell on the empty spot where she stood a moment before. An intern from the architecture firm handed her an arm load of long tubes taped together and wrapped in plastic to protect against the weather. He looked at a soaked Sarah and asked, "Are you sure you are old enough for this?" Sarah waved her hand at him with dismissal and said, "I've been doing this for a while now. Don't you worry about this stuff. I never wipe out and I don't lose packages." He snorted and said, "That's pretty much what you all say isn't it? 'Don't worry'? Okay. Well good luck out there. It's starting to blow pretty hard." Sarah looked back over her shoulder and saw the wind beat a pattern across the puddles and send a wash of spray down the street. "No worries," she said. Right. Sarah looked at the address and compared it to her map. After a few moments she had oriented herself and located the street and the rough area to start looking for the address. She ported to another rooftop to get a look but she could see nothing from this angle. She moved across the roof to look for a better angle when the winds tore up and blasted the sack from her arms, inflating it and sending it skyward like a balloon. "Frak!!!" Sarah started following the bag in flight hopping from rooftop to rooftop. I should have just robbed a store. Yeah, like he wouldn't pick up on that the second he touched it. Finally it wedged itself on the edge of a T overpass next to some small college building. She zapped down to the edge of the platform and nearly slipped on the slimy metal. Carefully she reached for the bag. As soon as her fingers touched it she slipped and fell...*zwip* From the roof of the college she sighed in relief and clutched the bag to her chest. Packages, endless packages here and there and the days clicked off. Finally payday and she looked at all the money with joy. She hopped to the store with a pocketful of cash and made her purchases. It was lucky that she and Colin were almost the same height. It made the measurements pretty easy. She brought it home quickly and carefully with a shiny red bow on it. It stayed in her room while she dashed out for more presents for her friends with the left over money. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: thevshi on March 25, 2008, 01:53:49 PM Quote from: Doc on March 24, 2008, 05:25:33 PM After the news about her brother come out, he writes a letter to Megan, explaining her what happened, and asking how she feels about the whole thing. About a week after Colin sent his letter to Megan, he gets a reply letter back. It was handwritten, in crisp, neat cursive. Hey Colin, Good to hear from you, though wish it was for better reasons. Thanks for the explanation on things, and I understand why you did not give me any warning. As for how I feel about the whole thing….really angry and horrified that my brother was behind all that stuff! I so wanted to punch out most of his teeth, and had to restrain myself more than a couple of times! Doesn’t he realize the value of the life he had all the opportunities to create and has now been completely destroyed? Mom and dad provided so much for him, for all of us, far more than many ever get, and that wasn’t enough? I really can’t understand it, I almost question if he really is my brother. As if destroying his life were not enough, his mess might well lead to the end of my parent’s marriage. When the police started to come by to ask Donnie questions, things quickly got really tense here. My parents have had some arguments behind closed doors. Mom has called my older sister, Denise, a few times to talk as well, but she really has not had much to say about things to me. Once Donnie was arrested and the British police agreed to extradite him, mom really started to give my dad the silent treatment. They have both become very cold to each other, though she still is the same she has always been with me. It is all really stressful, so I am sort of looking forward to the chance to get away when I start school on the eight of January. I will be at Wycombe Abby, which is a girl’s boarding school out in Buckinghamshire, so out in the middle of nowhere pretty much. The school grounds are one hundred and sixty acres, which includes woods, gardens and even a lake, which for only about five hundred and fifty girls, is tons of space. Wycombe is the top girl’s boarding school in England, so I think my father’s firm pulled some strings to get me in. It is going to feel a bit weird, for the girls at the school are ages eleven to eighteen, so I will be pretty much in the middle, what they call a lower-fifth form. I have had a chance to meet a few girls from my boarding house, which is called Cloister House, over the last few weeks, and they all seem really nice, so it will be interesting living with them and other girls from the house for the next few years. Of course the house color is a rather icky green, which is the color of the ties my house has to wears with our school uniforms. Hopefully I’ll learn to like it. Our days are pretty well regimented, pretty much from when we get up to when we go to sleep. There are usually house social events on the weekends with boys from other nearby boarding schools, so it won’t be total isolation. As there is no cheerleading, I am going to be focusing a lot on dance, and the school has a good arts program. They also have debate teams, so I will likely get involved with that. Next Fall, I might try my hand at lacrosse. But, I am also feeling very worried about my mom though. She will be alone in London when I head off to school, and she seems angry and like she feels betrayed. I really hope she finds something to do to take her mind off things, for I am sure it is really getting to her. Luckily there are a number of breaks during the Spring term that I can be home to be with her, and there is some time between Spring and Summer term as well. Try to stay in touch, and say hi to everyone there. Also, give John my love. Love, Megan Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on April 24, 2008, 10:47:44 AM Even in Florida, Life Exists - Excerpts from the Journal of Sarah Rollins -Winter Break- Trapped! I can't believe my family popped this on me! "Get packed, we're moving down to Florida!" What?!? Were they serious? Apparently so. Apparently I'd been told several times and even left a note or two but I'd been too distracted to pay any attention. Apparently. So maybe I've had a lot on my mind. We'd been running around chasing whispers for months and all to find out it was something close to home. Christmas was rushing at me like a runaway freight train. Colin. My powers. Beetlejuice. Oh god I thought I'd told myself to stop thinking about that. Jumping ahead. Tears mixed with kisses in a long goodbye and then I'm on an airplane. How embarrassing. They actually bought me a ticket. Probably to guilt me into going. Standard Airplane Travel I guess. My ears wouldn't pop, they ached. The food. Well. There was turbulence. Delays. We circled for half an hour. I was moments away from porting out when I started wondering if the pressure changes would make my head explode. Hmm.. I hung in for the landing but when we skipped on the runway I almost bolted. I asked everyone in my family to hold my hands. They thought it was because I was scared of flying. Okay it was because I was scared but I was even more scared for them. I'd burn myself out to keep them safe. Turns out that's just what happens sometimes and we landed quite safely. Sammy never bounced on a landing. She never offered me crappy food and a half a sip of soda for a drink. I miss her so much. I miss everyone. Dave gave me a handful of names of people to call if I need help down here. He's so sweet. If I were two years older and never met Colin and he'd ever shown the slightest interest and.. uh well we'll just toss that on the ol daydream pile. Florida is nice... if you like hot and humid like an armpit and everytime you go inside you need a hoodie because they've got the air conditioning set to 60! OMG! It's been just a few days and my hair is getting wrecked, I'm freckling from this heavy sun and I think I caught a cold from the airplane. Other than the awful weather, which everyone around me seems to think is quite nice - freaks - I'm doing okay. We have neighbors, and their daughter is my age. Kimberly. She's sweet. She reminds me a little of Sammy, before all the mayhem started. We've gone to hang out in a few places together. She doesn't really have many friends around. She's one of the quiet loner types but I convinced her to chat a little. No I didn't mess with her head. More update later. It's actually only 65 out today and I may not die. Everyone else is in jackets. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on November 28, 2008, 10:02:05 AM After-School Special Alicia opened the door stepped into her home after school. The apartment wasn't much bigger than the one her mother and her had moved from recently, but the neighborhood was certainly better. At least, so far, Alicia hadn't been woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of gunshots outside her window. Dropping her schoolbag on the threadbare sofa, she called out, "Mami?" Her nose and ears had already determined her mother was not home, but she knew Consuelo Vega preferred it if her daughter made at least an attempt at "normal" behavior. Walking into the kitchenette (which was a fancy way of saying "corner of the apartment where food is prepared"), Alicia saw the note clipped to the refrigerator magnet. Going out with a friend. Might be late. Dinner's in the fridge. Be good. Mami. Alicia smiled. She recognized the code phrases. "Out with a friend" meant her mother was having a date with some lucky guy. "Might be late" meant she could end up spending the night with him. In her late thirties, Consuelo was still a strikingly beautiful woman, and not one to spend her evenings pining for Mr. Right to walk in through the door. Alicia didn't resent her mother dating or having sex; she knew how hard her mother worked to support them, and how much she'd sacrificed for her daughter's sake. Alicia hoped the date was that young doctor she'd seen with her mom last week. He'd been very yummy-looking, in that sort of "young urban professional" way. At least she hoped the guy had the stamina to keep up with Mom. Alicia grinned at the thought. Besides, this was great timing. With her mom out of the apartment, she could head out with her new friends to check out those construction sites. Friends. She rolled the word around in her head. She really hadn't expected to find anyone to be friends with at Oak Park this quickly, or really at all. The fact that they were (freaks, her inner mind filled in, but she furiously erased that thought) different like her made the experience that much more comforting. She spent a moment worrying whether she was just falling back into old habits, joining with a group just because she wanted so much to fit in. She'd paid the price for that mistake, and was afraid the interest on those payments would be coming back to haunt her in the future. Sammy's words from the lunchroom floated up in her mind. We're the good guys, Alicia. No. These people were nothing like her previous "friends," and she realized how increasingly unfitting that term was in describing her former partners-in-crime. I guess that would make me a good guy, too, she mused, and the thought warmed a place in her heart and pasted a silly grin on her face. With a lively step, she opened the fridge to retrieve her dinner, intent on eating and doing her homework quickly and free her evening for the fun ahead. *** With her chores out of the way, she concentrated on preparing for the expedition. Standing in her room clad in only in a sport bra and panties, she critically examined and selected what she'd need. She put on a cotton undershirt and slipped on her favorite pair of black stretchy stirrup pants. She chose her most reliable pair of sneakers; she hadn't had a chance to scour the local thrift shop for a decent replacement yet. She pulled out a black hooded sweater from her laundry pile. She held it for a moment, then buried her face in it. Even after repeated washings, she could still imagine his scent bonded indelibly to the fabric. The memory it brought, wrapped in a tangle of joy, anger and grief, seized her and she rode the wave of emotion, choking out a single sob. Dammit, Marco! Why? She finally relaxed and looked at the hoodie. The design which had previously adorned the back had been painstakingly peeled off, leaving a discolored patch. While she could not bring herself to throw away the garment, she'd be damned if she would wear those gang colors ever again. On an impulse, she slipped her head through the opening and pulled on the hoodie. She felt wearing it would be right, a way to affirm her present and reject her past. With her clothing selected, she went on to pack her jump bag. She'd learned to call it that from one of her former teammates, who'd gotten the term from his dad who'd been in the service. Essentially, the small backpack, designed to ride high and out of the way between her shoulder blades, carried anything she might need in an emergency. Some extra cash she kept for this purpose,a first-aid kit, a tightly bundled change of clothes, her fake ID (she smiled at the memory of Dave's offer). The memory triggered a thought; she went to her jacket and retrieved the cellphone that Dave had given her. Opening it, she fiddled with the settings, putting it on vibrate. Even stuffed into the pack, she'd have no problem hearing it if it went off. She added it to the jump bag contents. That task finished, she scanned the room to make sure she hadn't forgotten something. Oh yeah, she thought and moved to her dresser. She donned her specially cut pair of gloves, designed to let her retractable claws extend without ripping anything, but eschewed her shades for a pair of aviator-style dark-tinted goggles. She hung the goggles from her neck; she'd only wear them if she had to bump into any civilians. She grinned at the term she'd picked up from the group. The anticipation for the night's activities bubbled in her chest and made her bounce in excitement. Without further hesitation, she moved to the window, opened it and slipped through. The window ledge was barely wide enough to support her, but she paid it no mind. Making sure to close the window behind her, she looked out into the dark-shrouded city and grinned. I'm a good guy. And with a cry of challenge, she leapt out to greet the night. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on November 29, 2008, 08:46:05 PM Another entry from the Journal of Sarah Rollins Haven't posted anything in a while so I thought I'd jot down a quick update about my life in case it's snuffed out in some glorious act of heroism and everyone doesn't yet know how amazingly awesome I am. What's going on - My unpaid social work. Well I'm getting a little better at it. I find a patient who wants to chat and I get them to tell me their story. Then I rewrite the bits that are too hard or change their attitude on them. There are about six so far... people who they thought would never be leaving here.. Now they are saying its a total recovery. A miracle. Some of the staff are looking at me like a lucky rabbits foot. I show up and chat with people and soon enough some of them start to get better. They tell me their stories and I tell them... well I guess I force their brain to accept the command to accept the event and move past it. Or in a couple of cases I erased the memory. Some things people just can't deal with. I'm starting to feel a little ill though. Not about altering peoples memories. Honestly I think I'm doing some real good in a way. It's just that they tell me their stories and now I know them. I know the horrible things that happened or that they thought happened to them. I can't fix someone with a chemical imbalance. I mean I can erase every crazy memory from their head but with a physical brain malfunction they are just going to start all over again. I know, I tried. "They came out of the tv and they took me away... they... they did some awful things to me. They cut me and opened me. There's something inside me and I can't get it out." I could see the scars from the times Michelle had managed to cut herself open. I knew what terrified Michelle never really happened. It was an hallucination. So I erased the memories to see if that would help her. For the next three days Michelle seemed a lot happier. She wasn't scared and the doctors were really relieved at her improvement. The started reducing her drug doses. The next time I came in Doctor Hannity had a bandage across his cheek. Michelle had snapped and struck out at everyone, calling them aliens, trying to dissolve her brain with their poisons. From now on I'm going to mostly stick with the mental traumas. Their stories are scarier because they are real. But at least when I fix something it is more likely to stay fixed. My "Hero" work. I jump around town when I can. But you know what? It's amazing how many times when someone calls out "Stop Thief!" or "Help!" that I am nowhere in hearing. I'm going to harass Donnie about that website. Ha, we'd probably get so many stupid prank calls that we'd need an AI weeding through them just to catch any real ones. Note to self: Have Donnie conjur up an A.I. for the website you want him to build. Heh. Update on the hero stuff. We've got two new members! Well at least I hope they'll hang around and be members. Jakob whose all shiny and Alicia who.. well I don't know anything about but she seems pretty cool. I still can't wrap my head around the future. Dave is going to take off and he wants to leave me in charge. What is he thinking? Well not in charge of anything really. Oh now it makes more sense. But if anyone needs to know something or get something done they come and talk with Dave. And he thinks I can do that? I can't just flip open a phone and make magical things happen. I have to spend some time and ask him about that. How it all works. Morpheus is telling me I've got a big future out beyond this planet. I get lost teleporting too far north or west of the city and he's trying to teach me the intro class to interstellar transportation. Yikes. That makes two people who are assuming I can do waay more than I think I can. Then there's Colin which brings me to - My personal life. What there is of it is great. Colin is super sweet and always coming up with awesome ideas and treats. He summoned bunnies! Okay it sounds kinda fruity when you just write it out like that. Did I mention he can also bring a lightning bolt down on someone's head? I mean, he knew I was hoping to find bunnies on Jakob's farm trip and shazam... rabbits. He seems totally different than any other guy out there. Oh like I know anything about any other guy out there. Maybe I'll find alternaSarah and ask her about stuff... Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: grdell on December 02, 2008, 10:51:44 AM The applause after their last song of the night was well deserved, thought Rhys. They had played well, given it all they had, and the audience, small as it was, really seemed to like it. It was only a small local affair, little more than a fundraiser for the LGBT association at the school, but it was fun. Ioan, the drummer, was breaking down his kit as Geoff, the guitarist, came over to Rhys. "You did good, kid." Rhys had just joined the band a few months before, answering an ad he had seen in the local music store's window - "Local teen band seeks bass player" - and at first they were skeptical because of his age and slight frame, but he had impressed them with his skill. He was developing something of a crush on the singer Carys, but he never let on because she was dating Ioan, and that kid could be crazy. "Thanks," he responded as he unplugged his bass from the amp and put it in its case. "Thanks for letting me join you guys, too - it's been a lot of fun." "Glad to have you along." Rhys felt a sense of belonging in the group that he hadn't felt for some time, and he never wanted it to end. * * * "What do you mean we're moving?" Rhys normally would never shout at his father like this, but right now he just couldn't help himself. His father, always calm, responded evenly to Rhys' provocative tone. "I got a good job offer from a firm in America. You've always wanted to go to America, haven't you?" "But dad, the band's doing well. I've got mates again. Why now? Can't I stay?" "Rhys, you're only fourteen. You can't live on your own at fourteen." "You've always said I was mature..." "Right. So act it now. Life often goes in unexpected directions, and we have to do the best we can with the situations we're given. You'll have mates again in America in no time. It'll be fun." "Will we be coming back?" "I don't know yet, son. The contract is open-ended at the moment. We'll have to see how things go." Rhys visibly deflates. His father pulls him into a hug. "This isn't the end of the world, Rhys. You'll see. I bet you'll meet all kinds of interesting people in America. It's like a whole other world, I've heard. I'm sure you'll find people you've got lots in common with. People just like you." Ha! Not bloody likely. What are the odds I'll find other super-powered kids in Oak Park? Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on December 02, 2008, 11:52:54 PM This little bit occurs right after the confrontation in Chapter 51-1: Alicia stormed up to her locker, angrily wiping tears from her eyes. Estúpida, estúpida, estúpida , she chastised herself savagely, as she twirled the blank dial of her combination lock, using her sharp ears to catch the sound of the tumblers clicking open. Staring at the open locker, she was suddenly filled with an overpowering urge to just get away. Throwing the bag in, she slammed the locker closed, clicked the lock back on, and took off. Knowing that walking out the front door would attract the wrong attention, she snuck up to the roof, where she'd been so little time ago (she was sure she could still catch traces of the scent of Sammy's blood in the air and the thought made her heart clench harder). Reaching the edge, she found a suitable dropping point and used it to reach the ground. From there, leaving the school grounds undetected was child's play, and soon she was running across the rooftops, heading off in a random direction. This was the only time she truly felt at peace; feeling the wind rushing on her face, the burn of muscles as she ran and leapt. The sense of continuous movement, focusing her attention on the next obstacle, the next drop-off, drove her. The outside world faded into the background noise; nothing mattered but the motion, the race, the exertion. But today even that fleeting freedom was denied her. Her mind churned with pent-up emotions. Anger at Sylvia for her mental intrusion, anger at Donnie for his judgmental superiority, anger at herself for her loss of control. Pain stabbed at her; the pain of hurting the one person in school she had felt close to, the pain of losing the one group of people she could have fit in with, the pain of letting down her mother once again. She finally collapsed on a tenement roof, trembling with exhaustion, panting and sobbing. She curled into a fetal position and keened, her eyes shut tight. Maybe Marco was right. She could never be more than what he'd made her. Everything she touched turned to pain and misery. Why fight it? The only time you were really happy was with him. The inner voice was seductive, persuasive. No. She shook her head. It had all been a lie, from the beginning. But was it so bad? In the end, is a happy lie worse than the painful truth? He'd take you back, you know it. And everything would go back to just the way it was before. All it would cost is your soul. No, no, no. She kept shaking her head, rubbing the grit on the roof into her cheek. But it kept getting harder to deny that voice. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on December 20, 2008, 05:35:15 PM From the Diary of the Dimensionally Challenged Sarah Rollins TJ built it. A passageway into another dimension! This was our chance to get out! There was nowhere safe anywhere on our world. Nowhere left to hide. We'd somehow all ended up in the same school. One by one we stumbled on to each other. None of us had been tested yet. There had been no reason and the test was still dangerous. There was still a 25% chance of an "adverse reaction" to the test. Every identified mutant or paranormal was exposed to the test whether they admitted to their powers or not. They've never really explained why. My best friend from elementary, Megan Howell couldn't hack it. She didn't want the secrets. Her family had enough secrets for her. Her dad was in politics and her mom had her own agendas. She came out of the closet and took the test. She fell into the 25% range. Spectacularly. Over thirty people died in the explosion when her powers went supernova. Her mourning father won the gubernatorial elections in a landslide. He'd been a strong advocate of paranormal registration and testing through out his career and to find his own daughter to be one of them was a blow. Megan's mother had a stroke. Her brother soldiered on. He was on the cover of Time Magazine with tears running down his face. He was becoming one of the poster children of the anti paranormal crowd. That pretty much solidified the rest of our groups unity. But there was no way to hide forever. Stupid bunch of wannabees used magic to conjur up trouble and turned the eye of the Paranormal Defense Agency our way. Random interrogations across the school started. They caught Donnie. He'd been wearing thin on hiding and the lies. He was always a straight shooter and the strain was driving him to the edge. When they pulled him in he flipped out. The dragons entered the world and the PDA agents were the prey. The local branch went under lock down. When the special teams burst in there was no sign of Donnie and no one left to question about it. They caught John not long ago. A bus spun out on icy roads and flipped near school. People were trapped and hurt. John couldn't help himself. He raced off to help and they loaded him with tasers and knockout drugs while he was tearing an opening into the bus. Twelve people died in the bus accident because they bled out. The ambulances couldn't get them to the hospital in time. John could have. I could have but I'm not brave like John. I just sat in the newsroom with my arms wrapped around myself while they showed his takedown on live TV. TJ had disappeared a long time ago. He couldn't hack the secrets and he just didn't show up at school one day. He went underground and worked on the problem as he saw it. Destroying the government was too big so he thought to build a way to get away from them. The problem was that most places on Earth were anti metahuman and the places that weren't were trapping them and conscripting them into third world armies. So he found somewhere else. He was always good at thinking outside the box and this time he thought outside the biggest box we had. We lost Colin to the first world we came to. I don't mean he got hurt or captured... he was the luckiest of us. He found a home. A world where the earth beliefs held sway over the minority groups of theists. Things were pretty similar but the rest of us were clearly not welcome. Colin wanted me to stay. He was sure that he could change their minds. When he couldn't he planned on coming back with us but I knew it would be wrong. I pushed the button that closed the portal before he could get to us. He looked so hurt. But there he's a powerful spirit guide.. as close to royalty as they get. On our world he could barely heal a scrape and he'd get the occasional impression from an object. He knew what was wrong and why his abilities were so small. The world was dying. I mean you always heard about species disappearing and the sparse remnants of the rain forests but it wasn't until you heard Colin talking about it that it struck home. At least with me. When we entered that other world the ground sprang to life under his feet and the sky filled with rain. I made the right choice. Sylvia started snapping at us after that. She usually had Colin to growl at and now he wasn't there to take her anger with that perpetual calm. It was around then that I started drinking too much. Turns out it's not the best idea for any kid let alone one with super powers. I had a few too many at a party and decided that when I was bored I'd just go home. Only problem was I disappeared from the middle of a crowd that was watching me. Possibly because I'd been doing body shots. I woke up to the sound of glass breaking and my door being kicked open at the same time. The PDA was dropping in for a visit. Funny thing about teleporting out of your bedroom the first moment you wake up on a cold crisp winter morning. Clothing suddenly becomes really important! Dear Macy's I owe you one outfit. We kept traveling but things were falling apart. We world hopped looking for somewhere better and every where we went we were starting to fight. No place was right and most were just as horrible as our own world. Some were nothing like our own. Then we found this place. It was a lot like home... at first I thought TJ had screwed up but there was no PDA. Or at least they weren't omni-present. There was nothing on the news but everyday horrors and atrocities. There was a mention about a paranormal but they called a group of them in New York... heroes? They'd stopped some dictator from getting his hands on a nuclear missile stolen from an undermanned Russian silo. It was such a relief to be here. Somewhere... normal. Well more than normal. Better than normal. That's when we bumped into ourselves. We had doubles here. It wasn't the first time we'd seen that but here they weren't monsters. We were the monsters. We were wild with relief and celebrating out of control. I went off and made a fool of myself with Kel and some locals at a party. Yeah that was fun but my head hurt for three days afterwards. TJ wanted to get out of here. He said he'd found himself and he wasn't a friendly native. He worried that he'd get trapped and used. The others agreed because they were having difficulties. I told them to forget it. I didn't want to take another trip home. To worry about finally getting cornered and caught. Given the test and maybe dying. Being turned normal. Or being imprisoned if they couldn't change me. No way I'm going back. I don't have to step on my doubles toes. I'll just keep clear so she never sees me. And.. I'll even stay away from Colin. Because he's not my Colin. Right? Now I just have to stay clear of John. He's been looking for me. No doubt he and TJ are worried about something like timeline or dimensional balance or some gibberish that they really only have guesses about anyway. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on December 23, 2008, 07:14:37 PM THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE Alicia perched on the outside of her bedroom window and pondered her options. Inside, she could hear her mother's gentle breathing. Consuelo Vega had commandeered one of the chairs in Alicia's room, pushing whatever had been on it to the floor, and had fallen asleep at her post. Alicia debated sneaking in another way or just simply finding another place to hide for the day. But she realized that was what her old self would've done and now, even more than before, she needed to be a new person. Quietly, she pushed the window open enough for her to slither through. Just as quietly, she pushed the window back down closed and moved to her bed. Maybe if she slipped under covers, she could claim to have come earlier and gone to bed. "Ahem." Alicia froze in mid-step. She turned towards the form on the chair. Her night-sight caught the alert look in the woman's eyes and general posture of wakefulness. Her mother's ability to catch her in the act still mystified the young girl; sometimes Alicia wondered if that was some preternatural ability of her own. Alicia smiled weakly. "Morning, Mom." Consuelo reached over to turn on the lamp next to her. "Well, you're home safe, finally." Alicia looked down. "Well, I did say I might be late." The older woman's eyes flashed. "Just because I might use that phrase, young lady, does not give you permission to…" She stopped as she finally noticed the bandages on Alicia's hands. "Ay, Dios mio!" she cried as she rose and hurried over to her daughter in motherly concern. "What happened? Did you get into a fight? Are you all right? What did I tell you about…?" "Mom!" Alicia called out to forestall the flood of words. "It's all right! I wasn't fighting! I… hurt myself trying not to fight." Consuelo stared at her daughter without saying anything. Finally, she announced, "Kitchen table, now. I'll start a pot of coffee." "Moom," Alicia whined. "I'm kinda tired…" "Alicia Dolores Vega, you march your tiny little butt out to the kitchen and sit down. You are not out of trouble yet. There will be no rest until I get a full report." Alicia winced. Her mother's tone allowed for no compromise. Sullenly, she followed her out of the bedroom, steeling herself for the coming interrogation. ----- Consuelo looked at her daughter a she sipped her coffee. Alicia sat miserably, her own cup untouched. "Okay," the elder Vega summarized. "So you went to the party with this Reese boy, where you almost got into a fight because you got caught necking with him and ended up punching a wall to keep yourself from hurting the person." Alicia nodded mutely. She'd been careful to edit her story to remove things like her friends' abilities, dimensional doubles, and Marco's appearance, but it didn't fare well for her. "And this boy took you to his home to help you clean up." Alicia nodded again. She felt bad not telling her mother about sleeping with Rhys, but she wasn't totally sure of her feelings about it (or his, for that matter) so didn't want to get into it with her yet. Consuelo took another sip and calmly asked, "Did you use protection?" If Alicia had been drinking at that point in time, she would've sprayed her drink across the table. "MOOOM!!!" Consuelo rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Alicia. I don't need your nose to tell; you're half-dressed and stink to high heaven. At least reassure this old woman you had enough sense to be safe." Alicia turned her nose up in defiance. "Yes, he used a condom without me even asking. Besides, you made sure I got on the pill the moment I was old enough." "There are other things you can get besides pregnant, young lady, and do not take that attitude with me." She looked thoughtful. "So, are you going to see this boy again?" Alicia's face puckered into worry. "I think so. I hope so." Her mother smiled a knowing smile. "That good, eh?" Alicia scrunched her face in annoyance before softening at the memory. "He's… nice. He listened to me and held me and…" She blushed as she realized how she was sounding. Consuelo sighed, "Well, already he sounds better than what you've gone out with before. I'll reserve judgment until I meet him, though." "Meet him?" Alicia asked worriedly. "Why, certainly," Consuelo answered airily. "Why? Is there a problem with that? Are you embarrassed by your mother?" She gave her daughter an arched look. "N-no." Alicia said, subdued. "Good, that's settled then. I need to meet these friends of yours anyway. He can come along too. Let's see," she muses as she mentally reviews her schedule. "I'm free Thursday night. We'll invite them over to that pizza place on Madison St. My treat." "Okay," Alicia said, feeling like a convicted felon having her sentence read. "Make sure to give them the invitation tomorrow at school. Right now, go take a shower and get dressed in nice clothes. We're going to church." "But, Mom…" Alicia complained. "Not another word! Go!" Consuelo pointed towards the bathroom, brooking no argument. She called out at her daughter's retreating back, "And clean up your room!" Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on December 27, 2008, 08:02:33 AM IN THE MORNING Alicia floated in half-slumber, basking in the warmth of Rhys’ body against hers. She was vaguely aware that she should be heading back home soon, but was hesitant to leave this warm comfortable cocoon. Pathetic. Alicia frowned as the tormenting inner voice tore through the thin shell of comfort that covered her. Simply pathetic. I mean, look at you. He gives you a pity f**k and you’re ready to throw yourself at his feet. What next? Are you going to wear his collar and be his? Your body is not yours to offer, girl. You have unfinished business. Alicia shook her head, the tattered remains of her bliss fading like morning mists in the harsh light of day. I’m finished with Marco. It’s over. But he’s not done with you, chica. You heard him. And when he comes and finds you like this, he’ll crush poor, sweet Rhys like he’s done everything and everyone else that has stood in the way of what he wants. And once again, it’ll all be your fault that some innocent gets hurt. No, no… The only answer was a mocking laugh echoing through her head. Reluctantly, she rose, making sure not to wake Rhys. She dressed quietly and pulled the window open just enough, but stopped before slipping through. She went and knelt by the bed to look at Rhys’s sleeping face from the edge. Tears flowed silently from her eyes. She ached to reach out and touch his face, stroke and feel it move under her fingers, but dared not move. Finally, she stood and without a sound was gone. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: BaboonBill on December 27, 2008, 12:35:52 PM Donnie sits in the middle of the woods, legs crossed as he listens to Dylan's voice from somehere above. His breath steams the air as he listens to the dragon-cum-human try to explain how to focus one's emotion to provide power. Donnie's jacket hangs on a tree limb near them and he tries to keep his teeth from chattering in the January air. "I know you feel the power of it. It is what drives you, what pushes you, what fuels you. Your fierce protectiveness of your friends and loved ones, your carnal desires, the acidic fear and exultation of combat. They are a bonfire you keep tamped low, for fear of it spilling over and burning others. But to push that all away is what keeps you hobbled. Hylokka. The inner fire." Donnie kept his eyes open, focussing in on the coals in his heart, pressing the line between Dragon and Human. The key was to focus the power of the dragons through the lens of a human, and not let it overflow. Overflow causes Donnie to get all angry or super emotionally charged. Lack of control. Focus, hoser. Donnie thinks about the people closest to him in his life. Mom, Dad, Sylvia, Colin, Sammy, Sarah. He samples the emotions each person's name evokes in him: Love, anger, desire, peace, protectiveness, confidence. Stokes the flame, blows these feelings into the coals until they glow cherry red. Then he breathes that heat back in. Exhale Breathe. Exhale. Time passes, and Donnie realizes Dylan has stopped talking. He opens his eyes and looks up at his brother, who sits in a lotus position like he, but floating ten feet off the ground. Dylan is smiling at Donnie, his eyes flickering red in amusement and pride. Donnie looks around, and sees the snow melted in one-foot radius all around him. "I'm not cold!" He looks up at Dylan as the smile blossoms across his own face. He stands, marvelling that the wind whistling through the trees feels like a warm summer breeze. He steps from the circle, and sees the snow begin to melt around his sneakered shoe. He claps, and whoops, then loses the stillness in his heart. Instantly the cold rips back and Donnie shivers. Dylan nods down at him. "It is a beginning." with apologies to Greg Bear. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on January 14, 2009, 08:39:22 PM BAD DREAMS Sunday night: For normal humans, sight is their primary sense. It is the main way they process and store information. For Alicia, her ears, not her eyes, are the main window to the world. So it’s not surprising that the first impressions she is aware of in her dream are sounds: The repetitive thud of fist hitting flesh, punctuating a girl’s piteously sobbing cries for mercy. Next is smell and taste, the coppery tang of blood in her nostrils and lips. She feels the shock of impact as the blows rain down without interruption. Finally, an image unfolds in front of her. A young girl, tears flowing from swollen eyes down bruised cheeks, split lips stained with blood, arms ineffectually held up in a vain attempt to protect herself from the assault. She sees that she’s not the victim in this dream. She’s not the girl lying on the floor being heartlessly brutalized. She’s the assailant, the tormenter, the one pitilessly using her fists to bring pain and misery to someone. But that’s not the worst part. It’s not what makes her stomach twist, her heart throb in panic, her mouth gag with the sour taste of vomit. No, the true horror is the sick realization that she’s enjoying every second of it. Alicia’s eyes snap open into darkness. She’s lying curled up, in her bedroom, under the pile of blankets and clothes in her bed that forms her cocoon. She’s home, alone, safe. The nightmare image lingers in her head like the stench of a dead animal. A small quiet sob escapes her mouth, nothing more. She trembles as cold sweat coats her bare skin. There’s no more sleeping the rest of the night. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on January 16, 2009, 03:17:45 PM After The Jam: Sarah was alone in her room sitting up straight with her legs crossed. Her hands rested in her lap and her eyes were closed. A small electric water fountain trickled soothing water noises in the background. The noise in her head was far from tranquil. Release from all distractions. Stop thinking over everything. Be in the moment. The hell? What moment? This one? That one? Oh right every moment. Crap. So... Shut off my inner monologue. Right. No problem. I know when to shut up. When people tell me to shut up I shut up. I don't keep on talking when its not welcome. Nosiree I can take a hint. I love bugs bunny. I mean the only opera I've ever listened to was from the videos of that show... And I'm sidetracked again! "Gah!" she cries in frustration. "Stupid meditation. And stupid waterfall!" She switches it off and then leaves her room. --- a short while later --- Back in her meditative pose she takes slow deep breathes and tries to relax and simply be. ... ..... ....... good. Doing it. In the moment. Free of thoughts. ? Aw crap! .... ....... ......... Oh god my foot itches. Just ignore it. ... Seriously what is up with my foot? Glancing down she saw a piece of tape stuck to the bottom of her foot with a small scrap of Christmas paper attached. Where did that even come from? Christmas was forever ago. *sigh* Sarah peels the tape off and falls on her back. Morpheus? A few moments later a voice that isn't part of her normal inner monologue responds. "Yes Sarah? Can I help you this evening?" How does this meditation stuff work again? I mean how am I ever going to focus? "With practice you will gain focus and with focus you will need my assistence less and less. You will travel farther on your own. It is entirely possible that you will gain other benefits from these exercises." Such as? "Well with better focus you might have an easier time on this school work you are so often struggling with. I'm not sure if this is a persuasive argument as your current method is equally succesful at least in the short term." So your not mad that I've used my talents to... "You have harmed no one and while it might be argued that you are manipulating others for personal gain I would suggest that you are actually gaining nothing from your efforts. You are not acquiring the knowledge these instructors are endeavoring to instill upon you and your actions are merely an attempt to avoid the pain of your failure. Avoidance of pain is a universally understood concept." You know that didn't really make me feel any better. "I'm sorry Sarah, I wish you no discomfort but I would not lie to you about matters." So you think me messing with teachers heads is pointless because I'm not learning anything? "Not entirely. A continued pattern of this behavior would indicate a growing desire to avoid conflict. While you seldom shy from physical conflict you often avoid uncomfortable social conflict. For example, how many times have you avoided tutoring with your friend Colin?" I don't know? A few? But if he starts tutoring me he'll realize just how badly behind I am! I don't want my boyfriend thinking I am an idiot or worse, pitying me. Feeling bad for me and scheduling extra time to help me. And when I don't get any better despite his help he'll feel frustrated that he's not helping me enough. He'll be apologizing to me for my stupidity! I couldn't bear that! "I believe you are visualizing only one possible outcome and basing your decisions on that. I do not think you are stupid Sarah. I do not believe there has ever been a case where the Azahnti have contacted a being of poor intellectual ability. You will need a keen mind to survive and flourish across the universe. Avoiding instruction merely delays your development." So I'm my own worst enemy? "Unlikely, but you are standing in your own way in a sense." Great. Thanks for chatting Morpheus. I think I am done meditating for tonight. "Goodnight Sarah. Call on me again if you have need." Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on January 16, 2009, 05:29:57 PM Dimensionally Challenged - The night after the lunchroom shower *bampf* Suddenly the small bedroom had twice as much Sarah in it as it did before. SarahD1 (our beloved Sarah of this dimension) leaps and utters a small "Gah!" of surpise. Man do I do that to everybody all the time? That's kind of annoying. She looks at her alternate self and smiles. SarahD1 says, "You came." SarahD2 replies, "You asked. I didn't think you would, and when you did... well I've wanted someone to talk to and I'm already pretty used to talking to myself so.." "Can I call you Sarah-D2?" asks Sarah. "Only if I can call you Sarah-PO" replies D2 Sarah. "Touché. Okay me. Spill the beans. What chased us out of your dimension?" "They're hunting us. The government. The stupid PDA." "Hand held organizers?" "Paranormal Defense Agency." "Oh. That does make more sense." "Yeah. So I guess they don't have them here." "Nope. Or at least not that I've heard. I mean there are groups that are in place to fight unusual trouble but they aren't everywhere like Starbucks." "Right. So the PDA hunt down anyone with any trace of meta human ability and inject them with a cocktail of stuff based on how the person's powers are derived. There's like a 75% chance that it will negate your abilities and a 25% chance that it will kill you outright. The survivors who keep their powers disappear." "Holy.." "Tell me about it. So TJ worked out a little device to open up doorways to other dimensions. It worked. Better then some of his stuff because nothing blew up or went ping into the corners when we used it. I think he was running on some seriously mad desperation." "When I came here it was so... normal. I mean not normal. Better than normal. Like the kind of normal you read about in old books. Like the old sitcoms on TVland." "You're saying our world is like I Love Lucy?" "More like the Dick Van Dyke Show but yeah." "Uh have you seen what people are doing to each other out there?" "Yeah. And it is Mary Tyler Moore compared to our world." "...." "Yeah. So here I am in heaven and we start having fun. It's so relaxing to be somewhere without the PDA or anything else freaky happening constantly. Only problem is that we've been jumping around for a while and everyone is starting to get on everyone elses nerves. We're worse than homeless. We left our families and friends. We left everything we know which, no matter how screwed up it is, is our home." SarahD2 looked down and fiddled with a blanket edge. "I didn't want to talk to you. Me. Us?" "I haven't figured that one out either." SarahD2 grins and says, "I promised I'd stay away from everyone and just live here somewhere far away but I can't. Mom and Dad... I know they aren't mine. I mean, Mom. Your mom is a teacher here and she's around all the time. Mine wasn't around very much. When she was she and Dad, well, it was tense a lot. You've got a little brother! Martin." "Mart or Marty... except to his girlfriend." "That is so cool. What is he like?" "He's awesome. Only we make sure to squabble sometimes so no one thinks we're freaks." "That's amazing. No Mart in my world. Mom had me and I did the tour of the parties when I was little. Then things started getting too sketchy in Chicago so we moved out to the suburbs. I didn't need to show up for the parties anymore. Mom made partner when I turned twelve and since then she hasn't needed Dad at the parties either. I think she's sleeping around but I never found out with who. I don't suppose it matters anymore." "So what did you do in Oak Park?" "I spent a lot of time with Megan and Colin. We're from pretty different worlds, the rich girls and the orphan." "You're rich?" "Well yeah. Okay not like super rich or anything but we're pretty well off. Mom has been pulling seven figures and when we moved out of Chicago they did a lot of investments and stuff. Apparently we're doing okay. Well enough that we live not too far away from Megan's family." "...wow. And your Colin is an orphan? I knew about his dad but..." "Yeah. Colin told me about it a few months after we started dating. He was a real hero that day. He saved a lot of people. Same day Colin's dad died he and his mom were in a car accident. They got blindsided by an early morning drunk." "Oh... oh no." "Yeah. They weren't able to contact any of Colin's family. Or maybe no one was willing to take him. I'm not really sure. Everyone in the family knew that both his parents weren't entirely... normal and no one wanted to get caught by the government with some kid with powers." "So Colin grew up alone?" SarahD2 nodded and said, "More or less and his abilities kept him that way. He would say things to people that were just too true. And every once in a while they'd catch him talking to an empty room. He went along with their theory that he wasn't quite right in the head. They had some fancy name for it and blamed it on the loss of both his parents. Even as a little kid he knew better than to tell them he was talking to ghosts. Then early this year it was just me and Colin. Megan took the test and it didn't go well. She..." "Oh no." "It went very badly. Her mom had a stroke when it happened and her dad was pretty busted up too. He had been starting a dark horse raise for Governor to clean up the state but it hadn't been looking very good. Then Dave posted incontrovertible proof of a giant bribery and cover-up plan that went from the lowest levels of fire and law enforcement in Illinois all the way to the Governors mansion. Suddenly a mayor from Oak Park, tough on paranormals and grieving from the loss of his daughter and wife became a pretty popular choice." "Megan's Dad is Governor of Illinois?" "Yeah." "Here they moved to London." "Weird." "Yeah, kinda." "Anyway uh..." "Cover-up?" "Right. So it turns out that about half the force was taking bribes of one sort or another and heads rolled. Actually too many heads rolled. The entire police force went under a federal task force and so many police ended up off the street that the greater Chicago area was a war zone for a few months. A friend of Colin's from the force... Sergeant Chris O'Brian? He was jumped up the ladder a few times and things have been changing for the good. The death threats against him kept a few of us busy for a while this year. Things have settled down now." "This whole alternate universe thing is totally amazing." "Well it's just everyday life back home." . .. ... .... "So do you have any plans for being here? Are you staying?" "I don't know. I think I have to at this point. I ditched TJ and he was my ride. It's not like I can open a portal on my own. I'm pretty sure I can't go back. It would be bad for my mom and dad. I'm really glad I don't have a little brother there. They might have given him the test even if he didn't show any signs. Does your little brother have any powers?" "Not that I've seen. I'm not supposed to talk about my abilities with him but I think I'm going to have to soon. I mean, it's not like I've been exactly clandestine and he's smart. He's smarter than me, the little dork, and he's dating an older girl. He's mature for his age." "Makes sense. Mom's smart, Dad's smart, seems natural that the brains would have to get passed down somehow." "Are you saying we're not smart?" SarahD2 just gives SarahD1 a look before asking. "So how are you doing in Math? Or Science? History?" "Fine. You're right. Okay, okay. Hey," SarahD1 pauses with a thought before asking, "What have you been doing about that?" "My grades? You mean how I manage to not be stuck in remedial classes, extra assignments and homework hell every day and night?" SarahD1 nods. "I think, if we're really the same that you can guess that. I'm a solid B student. It took a little work but it was worth it. Here's a tip. Make sure they never call on you in class. That way no one has any idea how you are doing unless you decide to join a study group but why would you?" "What about Colin?" "What about him? He's got a photographic memory and he can apply his knowledge pretty easily most times. He's got straight A's." "No I mean, what does Colin think about your creative approach to education." "...What Colin doesn't know... didn't know, the better off he is, was... whatever." "Wait. Was? Is Colin?" "No, he's fine. In fact he had it the best of all of us. His powers, what little he had are practically undetectable. No one can see what he sees. No one notices when he gets an impression from an object or gets a glimpse of the past or the future. He was planning on politics when he was old enough." "Politics? Colin? Are you serious?" "I know, when you picture some greasy guy in a suit you can't see him in that world, but he knows if the right people don't end up in charge our world is done. He spends a lot of time with Dave and Rob planning for the future. " "Oh. Okay. I'm glad for him." "Yeah. So." "So." "What am I going to do? Can I have your life?" "What?!?" "Kidding. But it's just that you've got... everything. And now I don't have anything or anyone. I don't know what to do or where to go." "You can stay here if you'd like?" "Really? But won't that get kind of confusing? I mean everybody knows you aren't a twin and they are bound to see us around in different places and make a connection." "Yeah.. but I don't want to leave you.. me ...us... out in the cold. What about... London?" "What about London?" "Megan's out there. Dave could probably get you some id. Maybe Megan could get you some British ID and you wouldn't have to worry about a visa." "Megan? Really? That... that'd be great. I've missed her this year. Did she ever come to grips with her abilities?" "She wore a costume that made her like a race car stripper." "Wow... I'll take that as a yes. It could be fun." "You're welcome here for as long as you like and if you go you can come back whenever you want..." "Thanks. I'm glad you feel that way. I was worried that you'd hate me or try and drive me away to keep me from your life." "Never. I've already heard one from one person that I shouldn't stand in my own way. I think they meant in a more personal way but it fits here as well." SarahD2 yawned. "Thanks," she says, "I am suddenly exhausted now that I have some sort of life to look for. I'm going to go sack out." "You can sleep here if you like? I've got a sleeping bag and some spare blankets and stuff." "Thanks but I'm good. I'm going to go find an empty suite at The Peninsula or maybe the Park Hyatt." "Oh. That sounds... nice?" "Yeah they aren't bad. Hey want to go shopping with me tomorrow? I've totally got to get some things to wear, especially if I'm heading to London. Can you ask Megan what they're wearing over there now?" "Uh sure?" "Awesome. Kay, catch ya later. Thanks again. You totally got my head straight. Have a good night." "Night." *bampf* ... "Why does her new life here sound better than mine?" SarahD1 just reached over and turned off the light. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on January 17, 2009, 11:41:30 AM LUNCH TIME Alicia took another small bite of her sandwich and scowled in distaste. Peanut butter. She hated peanut butter. But it'd been the only option this morning; the tuna salad was all gone, and she'd forgotten to make some more the night before. She accepted it as just another item in the "Alicia needs punishment" list. Below her, the squeak of sneakers and the shouts of students echoed. Alicia had found a suitably private place to eat her lunch, at least for her. The electronic scoreboard suspended from the gym's ceiling had a small catwalk for access. There was a spot where a person could sit unseen by anyone on the gym floor. That's where she was perched, while the basketball team practiced, oblivious to her presence. Alicia took a sip of her soda and leaned back against the metal side of the scoreboard. Closing her eyes, she amused herself with a long-familiar practice. She concentrated, focusing her attention to her sense of smell. Her nose twitched as she isolated and identified the distinct odors wafting around her. The metallic tang from the struts surrounding her hiding place, the smack of sweat coming from the players' bodies, the pungent reek from the waxed court's varnish, the musky spoor of mice hiding in the walls, she mentally tagged and set aside each one. She could tell that one of the players was suffering from a muscle sprain, based on the medicinal trace of heat rub. The coach had not given up his smoking habit, if the telltale tobacco stench on his clothes was any clue. She finally stopped; playing tag with smells gave her a headache if she did it too long. She hesitated on the next step, but forced herself to take it. Alicia switched to her ears, immediately blanking out the game noises below her. She spread her awareness out, catching snatches of conversation from people walking the halls, the scratch of chalk against a blackboard in a classroom, and the ruffle of pages being turned in the library. Her sense of hearing was less discriminatory than her sense of smell, but her range was certainly larger. As she was afraid would happen, her sphere of perception reached the cafeteria. It was far enough away that she had no chance of catching individual words, but she could recognize the voices. Alicia heard Sylvia talk and thought, So, without me there, she doesn't have to hide. Good. Sammy said something, and Alicia caught her name. She sighed. I'm sorry, Sam. You wanted to help me and all I gave you was pain. Thanks for caring. Rhys's voice rang out among the hubbub, and Alicia had to control the immediate impulse to leap down and join him. It wasn't his fault, though, that she was so screwed up. He should be able to be part of the group, even if she couldn't. That didn't stop the pain in her chest at not being with him, feeling his presence and his scent at her side. She sighed again, and softly banged her head against the metal supporting her. Being there would just start the cycle again. Someone would say or do something and she'd go off, lashing out, hurting the people around her, reacting to a threat that wasn't there. She knew this. The only way to stop it for now was to take herself out, at least until she had a better handle on... whatever the hell was wrong with her. Alicia thought about her options. There was Colin, who obviously had some sort of mojo for figuring out people's insides. He could dig out whatever it was squatting in her head and help her get rid of it. That was assuming he even wanted to talk to her. Then there was Jack. Alicia still felt awkward calling a grown-up by his first name, but she'd never gotten the man's last name, and no one else minded calling him that. She thought back to Sammy's backyard and Jack's unexpected sparring session. It had felt so... right, like putting on a familiar, cozy warm coat. For a few seconds, her mind had felt clear, calm, contented. Then Donnie had shown up and spoiled it, reminding her of where and what she was. That's why she had snapped at him, causing Jack to snap at her and totally ruining her reverie. But even after that, she was able to cling to the wisps of that comfortable feeling. She'd grooved on them through the rest of the evening. No matter what, she wanted more of it, and Jack seemed to be the current source. Maybe Rhys could find out Jack's address for her. In the meantime, Alicia had a peanut butter sandwich to finish (Yuck!) and a History class to sleep through. Her butt was getting cold sitting on the metal grill and it sounded like the coach was having the team run laps around the court. She mentally summed up her situation with her typical eloquence. This sucks. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on January 23, 2009, 03:33:28 PM COMING CLEAN Alicia is there, waiting at a booth in the back of the Tasty Dog, when Rhys arrives. She has a plate of uneaten French fries in front of her, and it's obvious she's spent most of the time pushing ketchup around on her plate. Once Rhys is settled in, she steels herself and begins. "I wanted to tell you this, 'cause you need to know who I am, what this is about, before we go any further. "I guess you'd kinda expect me to say how I had this difficult childhood, growin' up with only my mom and people treatin' me bad 'cause of how I looked. The thing is, though, it wasn't that bad. "Yeah, we never had much money, but it wasn't like I knew what I was missin'. And, okay, people looked at me strange and kids picked on me, but I din't think my eyes and stuff was any different than havin' buck teeth or a big wart on your neck, like little Chollo Perez back in first grade. "I was kinda lonely growin' up, though. Mom spent most of the days workin' and no one wanted me around, 'count of that I could beat 'em at runnin' and climbin' and stuff. So, when I met Marco, I was an easy mark." At the mention of the name, Alicia closes her eyes, as the bittersweet memories take her away for a second. "Y'see, Marco was a couple of years older'n me. He was smart, real smart, you could tell he could figure things out and make the other kids do what he said. While the others laughed or made fun of me, he talked to me, made me feel special. He taught me how to get by on the streets, and soon he and I were doin' all sort of things together." She bites her lip. "I know, lookin' back, it sounds so cheesy, but he really cared for me. At least it felt that way to me. He never put me down, never made me feel anythin' else but the most important person in his life. I was doin' stuff I knew was wrong; jackin' car stereos, breakin' into convenience stores at night, but he always made it sound like it was all cool. I din't know any better. "By the time I was old enough, I was Marco's main chica. I mean, yeah, he ran with other girls, but he always made sure I knew I was his special one. Ree-is, I loved him. In spite of everythin', I guess I still do, in a way." She looks pleadingly at Rhys for a second, straining to make him understand, before continuing on, her voice tight. "One day, Marco comes to me and says he's set up this big score; with it we'd have enough money to get out of the barrio and into the big time, together. I din't care much about the money, okay, yeah, I did a little bit, but the real important thing for me was bein' with Marco and makin' him happy. So I said, sure. "He took me to these people. One of them started trainin' me, teaching me how to fight. Another taught me how to break into places; before I knew more or less how to pick a lock, but this guy taught me about alarms and security systems. "All the while, Marco was there, takin' care of me when I came back hurt from the workouts, praisin' me, telling me how proud he was of what I was doing. "I did the job. I don' know what went wrong, but an alarm went off and I had to fight my way out. I… hurt people. They said it'd be easy to do it, but…" She shakes her head and is quiet for a moment, her eyes shut tight. She takes a deep breath and struggles on. "I got back to the rally point. They were there, all'a them. Next thing I know, Marco's injected me with some drug and I can't move and one of them takes me away and starts hittin' me…" She pauses again, her hands clenched on the table edge, the claws making furrows on the cheap plastic. She feels Rhys moving closer and shakes her head furiously, warning him back. She concentrates on her breathing, like Jack taught her, focusing on the sensation of air moving in and out of her lungs. She gets back under control, enough to finish what she wants to say. "I heard Marco as they were draggin' me off. All the time, I'd been just another tool to him, something he could use and guide around to do his biddin'. He din't care for me; he knew what they were goin' to do to me, to my head, and he let them, because this way he'd have somethin' left he could use, broken as I'd be." She looks straight into Rhys's eyes. "The things I did before… I willingly committed crimes. I told myself I wasn' really hurtin' anyone, but I was just foolin' myself." She grasps Rhys's hand, intent on making her next point. "But there's more. I gave my heart to Marco, and he treated me like s**t. And now here you are, being so good to me, and part of me is so happy to have someone again, and part of me is just waitin' for the axe to fall." The tears run uninterrupted down her cheeks. "I don' know if I can give you the love you deserve, Ree-is. I don' know if there's anything left to give you." She looks down, quiet now that she's done, staring miserably at the forgotten food on the table. Rhys raises her hand to his mouth and gently kisses it. "You say part of you is happy - that means there's something left, and that's good enough for me. We can work on the rest." He smiles at her. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: motley on February 05, 2009, 05:36:58 PM It started with the water bottle. Not that she would ever cast blame on an inanimate object or fickle fate. It was a simple matter of defective construction and certainly not the thermos’ fault its plastic bottom split while Laney was packing her supplies for school Friday morning. She took too long changing into dry jeans and sponging her textbooks. Too long and missed her bus. Laney sprinted home, thinking to beg a ride from her aunt, but missed her, too. Irony was something Laney could appreciate. While huddled in the kitchen, evaluating, she even laughed at her predicament when the rain and sleet began striking the roof, and her ankle began shocking complaints of abuse. This is why she switched apples before she left the house again: a yellow instead of a red. Red ones were routine. Knowingly changing the routine gave her the illusion of control. It was one of several tricks she’d devised to cope, reluctant as she was to confess her difficulties functioning at school to her family. And it was getting worse. Outside her home, there were too many diversions, too many changes she detected but couldn’t resolve; she was faltering at the precipice of her sanity every moment. Whenever she became distressed that the world was not as it should be, Laney would convince herself it was because there is a variation in the system – one she could comfortably define: a yellow apple instead of a red one. Through her first class periods the effectiveness of these games gradually degraded until lunch, when Laney admitted she’d have to try different tactics next week. ***** So it is a limping and exhausted girl who pauses at the wide entrance of the cafeteria that Friday, looking confused as usual. The flow of motion and voices, scents and colors within the room trap Laney’s attention. The complexity of the patterns confounds her, and she struggles for equilibrium until her head aches from the effort. It was beyond her ability to calculate, beyond her limited experience to explain; but as she stands there, misaligned with the world she surveys, Laney intuitively starts identifying anchor threads. If she could trace them… It’s there. Why didn’t I see it before? Because you were seeking symmetry, moron. Then she remembers where she is and why. I wish I’d brought the red one. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: motley on February 13, 2009, 11:39:26 AM Saturday… “Whacha doin, Lane?” A pair of blue eyes peered through a crack in the door Laney knew she had closed. She sighed tiredly, waving the four year old into her room. “I don’t know what to wear.” Free from her aunt’s influence for just one morning, Laney felt helpless, lost and regretting ever wishing for independence. When did I get so detached? When did I change? So stupid. “Wear a shirt.” He said simply, lying right in the middle of a pile of discarded clothing. That his cousin was only clad in a lace bra and jeans didn’t bother him at all. “Which shirt, Joey? I have my entire closet out here. You’re sitting on it.” “Red one! “No, blue! “No, all of them!” “Alright. Um…Pick three. What else?” “A dress!” He began merrily digging through fabric. “I only have one dress. It’s black and too thin for winter. What about a skirt? Which one?” “Red one!” ***** She sat beside Joey; she was kicking her legs hard enough to bounce the bed and him with it. They were both giggling and pleased with their progress Over a lime green tank top she wore a deep blue v-necked sweater; over this was a heavy plaid flannel night shirt left open like a jacket. Draped from her throat was Joey’s blue and green striped wool scarf. The burgundy skirt was not quite long enough to hide the blue and grey argyle stockings. “No stuff in your hair?” “I don’t have them anymore, Joey.” “Oh.” He left her for a few minutes, while she engaged in a battle to restrain her hair. She finally went to the bathroom, feeling rather defeated she must use a mirror to aid her efforts. She didn’t recognize the reflection. Once upon a time, she would have been pleased at how much older she now appeared: a mature beauty, striking - if one could get past the juvenile clothing. But she was utterly disassociated from that face in the mirror. It was hollowed and pale. The eyes were unnaturally dark and foreign. Wrong. This isn’t me. Everything’s changed. Everything’s - “For your hair, Lane.” There was Joey, holding up a battered shoe box for Laney’s inspection. She knelt down beside him and carefully sifted through the collection: buttons of all colors and sizes, marbles, melted glass, wire, chips of rock, rubber bands, keys, snail shells, sea shells, butterfly wings, and pins. Then she began laughing, so hard and long that the treasures in the box became only blurred shapes through her tears. Joey smiled. He loved the sound of her laughter. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on February 13, 2009, 01:53:23 PM This takes place on Saturday the 9th. ALICIA VISITS THE 'HOOD I stepped off the bus at the corner of Pulaski and Division and stopped to stare at my old neighborhood. For the umpteenth time since I hit the streets back at Oak Park this morning, I asked myself what the hell I was doing. And I still couldn't come up with an answer. As I continued to mull over this, my feet unconsciously started me down the street, memory guiding my steps. I couldn't rightly claim things hadn't gotten better once Mom and I had made the move out of here and into Oak Park. I'd been a walking train wreck then, what with having had my brain used like Play-Doh by some sick motherf**ker with my then-boyfriend's approval and participation. At Oak Park, I'd had the chance to meet other kids dealing with being "different," including one who'd been able to at least partially unscramble the mess in my head. I'd hooked up with another one (and God knows I wasn't expecting that happening any time soon after Marco). I even had some freaking retired super-soldier giving me training tips. I mean, how cool is that? Of course, it wasn't helping that I'd turned around and pissed the group off, getting Sammy, the one person who I was hoping to become best friends with, blamed for it in the process. Things have gotten heavy with my new boyfriend, Rhys, so quickly that I'm getting cold feet (I mean, do I really love him, or am I just clinging to him to wash the taste of Marco out of my heart?). And Sensei Jack's been getting all Miyagi on me so I have no damn idea what I'm supposed to be doing. Maybe that's why I was wandering around Humboldt Park like some lost tourist. However f**ked up my life'd been back here, at least I'd understood it. I knew where I was, what I could do (or at least get away with), and the future could very well shove a pineapple up its ass for all I cared. But then, the love of your life was just using you as his pet freak and bed-warmer, and that was even before he handed you off to be used as a meat puppet by a pair of sick bastards, the dark little voice in the back of my head chortled. Nothing like having your own version of Dante's Peanut Gallery jeering at you to keep you life in perspective. Something dragged me out of my internal dialogue. I'd walked by a group of… well, calling them kids would've been lowballing their age, and "gang" gave them too much credit. What got my attention was their whispered exchange after I'd passed them. "Holy s**t! Was that…?" "Yeah, it was! C'mon!" At which point they scurried off like rats. Great. I certainly hadn't made a point of cleaning up any loose ends when I bailed out, and it sounded like it was coming back to bite my ass. I was about to turn tail and head back to the bus stop when a voice stopped me. "Alicia, nena, is that you?" It was Mrs. Rosa Quiñones, a nice old lady who lived in the same floor as ours, at least back when we lived here. She’d taken care of me when I was little and Mom had to go to work, and now looked after her little granddaughter, Cristina. Cristina's mom had basically dropped her off at Grandma's so she could go off and do more of whatever she was doing. The kid was cute, and I'd returned the favor by watching her some afternoons when Mrs. Q had to go out. I couldn't brush her off, so I gave her a sickly smile and said in my best "so happy to see you" voice. "Hola, Doña Rosa." The old woman regarded me with that mixture of amusement and critical appraisal only grandmothers can pull off. "Well, look at you. I'm surprised to see you around here. Did your mom and you move back?" I hastily answered, "Um, no, ma'am. We're still over in Oak Park. I just… felt like visiting, y'know?" It sounded lame even to me. She smiled understandingly. "Well, it's nice to see you. You're looking a lot better. Hopefully two of you are doing well?" "Uh, yes, ma'am." Trying desperately to be polite, I blurted out the least inane question I could think of. "How's Cristina doing?" Mrs. Quiñones's face froze, her cheerful smile fading off like a burn-out light bulb. "You hadn't heard?" "Um, no. What's wrong?" With no expression in her voice, she said, "Cristina was killed about a week and a half ago. She was out on the stoop when some puñetas drove by and shot the front of the building up. She didn't have a chance." My guts clenched and my chest felt like someone had punched me. I didn't even register the momentous occasion of hearing a swear word coming out of sweet old Doña Rosa’s lips. She saw the distress on my face and nodded sadly. "It's a good thing you moved out, mija. This place…" she gestured vaguely around us, "it's not getting any better." I managed to work around the lump in my throat and say, "I'm sorry. If there's anything I can…" She interrupted, patting me in the arm. "It's all right, Alicia. There’s nothing anyone could’ve done…" She suddenly glanced behind me and added softly but hurriedly, "Just be safe," then turned and rushed off. That gave me the chance to note the approach of a small group behind me. I didn't need to turn around and look to see who it was; the smells and sounds were enough. The little punks had snitched and brought back a welcoming committee. I turned slowly, putting my street face on. In addition to the aforementioned wannabe gangers, three of the local youth's club were sauntering up, eyeing me like a $20 bill found on the ground. I tried to stay frosty even as I noticed who their leader was. Moncho had joined the gang at the tail end of my own stay. He was special, and not just in the way they have Olympics for. Like me, he had the edge of being borderline paranormal, although he didn’t rate as high as I did. Nevertheless, I'd seen him smash a concrete block against his face the way other guys would do a beer can. I knew I could take on the other two no problem, even if the glee club joined in, but Moncho was a harder nut to crack. I was confident that I could keep him from tagging me, but there was no chance he'd notice anything I threw at him. There was still a slim chance I could walk away from this mess, but the first words out of Moncho's mouth made Slim pack up and leave town. "Hey, lookie here! If it ain't lil' Alley Cat, struttin’ around like she owns the place. Marco's been looking for you something fierce." I struggled to keep the tough act up, in spite of the effect of hearing his name. With what bravado I could scrape up, I shot back, "So, you're being Marco’s bitch-boy and coming to pick me up?" Moncho leered, showing teeth that had never seen basic personal hygiene, never mind a dentist. "F**k, no. When I heard you wuz in the barrio, I figured I'd grab ya and have some fun before I dragged your skinny ass back to him." One of the punks tittered (I swear, he tittered!), and I realized the way this was going to go down. I felt my heart starting to beat faster as the old street survival instinct kicked in. I gave the big thug a nice wide grin. "What's the matter, chulo? Your mama's stopped putting out for you?" That got the reaction I expected. All thought of witty repartee vanished from his ugly face as he took a swing that would've taken my head off if it had connected. I was already ducking under his arm, running up the stoop next to us and using it to vault over him and the rest of his posse. As soon as I hit the ground behind them, I took off. I might have been gone a month or so, but I still knew these streets well enough to stay ahead of any pursuers. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to account for the fact that these were their streets, too. And that Moncho had, in a rare case of advance planning, brought friends. They finally ran me down in a dead-end alley. By then, the pack had grown to about a dozen of them, not counting the audience. I could see and hear a few carrying the trademark weapons of a well-dressed rumble; bicycle chains, bats, knives, and I could smell that at least one of them was packing heat. They had me cornered and outnumbered. I had no back-up, no escape plan, no way out. I was well and truly f**ked, and Moncho knew it. The pendejo was standing there with his putrid grin, I was sure already imagining what he was going to do to me. I sobbed and cursed, darting around the ever-tightening circle, which only seemed to make it that much more enjoyable for him. I couldn't help it. I was gasping for air, and not just because of exertion. I was freaking out, panicking. I couldn't move, I couldn't think. All I could see was the wall of unfriendly faces, all spoiling to take me down. I don't know what made me do it, what triggered the thought, but suddenly I just took a deep breath, the way Jack had taught me. There was a snap, like an electric spark, and the world stood still. The panic, the fear went away as if I had just stepped from a raging storm through a door into a calm, quiet room. The roar of the blood pounding in my ears faded to a whisper. It was like one of those weird scenes in The Matrix, where the scene freezes and the camera spins around. I was aware of everything around me: the crowd gathered to see me fall or even take their own shots, the garbage cans arrayed around the alley, the trash scattered underfoot, even the slight breeze that ruffled my hair. It all was clear. I wasn't going to get out of this without getting hurt. But it didn't scare me. I knew. I knew that I'd shell out the pain back with interest, and could even walk away from this. My breathing slowed down. I moved my feet, relaxed my muscles and placed my hands in position. The combat circle formed around me in my mind's eye. I grinned at my opponent's confused look as I shifted to a ready stance. I gestured at him with one hand to join me. "Let's dance." It was getting dark by the time I made it to Jack's. I stumbled up to the door and leaned on the doorbell. I must've been a pretty sight when he opened the door. I could barely see out of one eye, although thankfully the cut above it had stopped bleeding. My clothes were half-shredded, I had an impressive collection of cuts and bruises all over covered in a layer of dust and plaster, and I wasn't sure, but I think I'd busted a rib. I gave him my best bashful grin, getting a jolt of pain from my split lip and showing blood-stained teeth. For the life of me, I couldn't think of a witty thing to say. "Um, you should see the other guys?" Jack wasn't having any of it. He took one look at me and said, ""We'll tell your mom you forgot to look both ways before crossing the street. Let's get you cleaned up." Works for me. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: motley on March 02, 2009, 01:36:55 PM Laney found it amusing to sit quietly in her room practicing these past few days. Perhaps “practicing” isn’t the right word, since her performance neither improved nor worsened. She preferred the cards to dice, but hadn’t dared try anything with greater impact, though her powerful curiosity ached to know if she could. Her mind did not fail to provide possible applications for this ability, each more exciting and frighteningly dramatic than the last, with worldwide implications. Luck, probability, chance, likelihood, odds, possibility, prospect, fortune, haphazard, indiscriminate, unplanned, random… Having no particular pattern, purpose, organization, or structure…as opposed to a lack of order or regular arrangement, which is chaos and leads to many other words suggesting or outright defining mental problems. Yes, disorder. Another synonym. Mental disorders. Great. See how well that fits when nothing else does? I found the right word, didn’t I? It was better when I didn’t know, when I thought I was normal and could be fixed with proper treatment, when I had hope. Do I keep doing this, getting myself…tangled over and over, until they lock me up because I’m crazy…or…or surrender and let it do whatever it wants, whatever’s supposed to happen. What if it’s all ‘disorder?’ Same result: I get locked up because I’m crazy. Laney closed the browser on the thesaurus website, shut the laptop down, and turned to face the room now engulfed in darkness. Her abandoned homework remained spread on the floor. Almost glowing in the moonlight filtering through lace curtains, the papers seemed to float in a pool of shadow and reminded her strangely of water lilies. Isolation or immersion? Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on March 08, 2009, 08:55:06 PM This would've happened Monday evening. CRISIS MANAGEMENT Consuelo Vega walked into her apartment, juggling keys, purse, briefcase, and a grocery bag containing that night's dinner makings. She was greeted by muffled curses and thuds emanating from Alicia's room. Long familiar with her daughter's erratic mood swings, Consuelo took her time slipping off her work shoes, putting away the perishables in the fridge, opening her post-work wine cooler, and otherwise steeling herself for the coming trial. She walked over to stand by the doorway to Alicia's room, still holding the wine cooler bottle, and looked in. All she saw of her daughter were two legs sticking out of the closet. Random pieces of clothing sporadically came flying out to join the growing pile on the floor, accompanied by another curse. Finally, Alicia came out, frowning. She was well aware that her mother had been standing there all this time, for she stared at the older Vega with that look of sullen defiance reserved for fuming teen-agers. Consuelo was perfectly capable of waiting her daughter out. She knew of all the qualities Alicia possessed, patience was sadly not one of them. It didn't take long. Crossing her arms in annoyance, Alicia said in an accusing tone, "Mom! I have nothing to wear!" Consuelo looked at the waist-high pile of clothes now decorating the middle of the room with a raised eyebrow and said, "Really?" Alicia gave her mother an exasperated look and gave the pile a dismissive wave. "I mean for the Valentine's Day dance. They're making it a costume party, Sammy and her boyfriend are planning to dress up in medieval clothes and have all their friends in costumes, too." "So, there you go," replied Consuelo reasonably. "I'm sure you'll look fine in a nice medieval dress." She was subjected to a mute stare from Alicia that took her a few seconds to decipher. "Oh. I see." Alicia fell back to land on her bed and stared at the ceiling forlornly. "Yeah." Consuelo pursed her lips Placing the wine cooler on the nearest horizontal surface, she crossed the room to sit on the bed next to Alicia. "Honey, what's wrong?" Alicia visibly struggled with the thought of confiding with her mother then finally gave in with a sigh. "I dunno, Mom. I know things weren't going to be the same at the new school, but I can't seem to get anything right. It's like the rules of the game have changed but no one's bothered to tell me what they are, and it's all my fault for not knowing them." "It seemed to me that your friends were willing to help you," Consuelo offered encouragingly. "I'm sure Rhys would be happy to." She got another bout of pregnant silence from her daughter, which she interpreted. "But that would make you dependent on him, is that it?" Alicia was quick to deny it. "No, it's not that, it's just, well..." Her hands reached out as if she could pluck the words she needed from the air. Consuelo gently grasped the young girl's hands and set them down. "Alicia, there is nothing wrong with needing someone. I know it's hard; all your life you've always wanted to be self-sufficient, to show me that I didn't need to worry about you, that you could take care of yourself." She brushed a strand of hair from Alicia's forehead as she looked in her daughter's eyes. Her father's eyes, she couldn't help thinking. "I know how strong you are, especially after what you've gone through. I love you and am proud of you no matter what. Don't make the mistake of locking yourself away from the world because you're afraid you can't go at it alone." Alicia was silent, but this time the silence carried a message of contemplation rather than defiance. After some time, Alicia sighed and gave her mother a sad smile. "I still don't have anything to wear for Friday." Consuelo gave her a smile and wink. "You let me work on that. I'm sure I can find something that'll work." Alicia gave a skeptical snort. "Shyeah, right. It's hopeless." Consuelo's eyebrow raised dangerously. "I'll have you know, muchachita that I do have some experience in dressing to impress. You leave it in my hands, and I will make sure that heads will turn when you walk into that dance. And make that boy of yours' jaw hit the floor. Just you wait." Alicia couldn't help but feel a slight chill of trepidation at the evil glee that tinged her mother's words. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on March 16, 2009, 05:20:42 PM This happens either Thursday night or Friday before the dance. FAMILY HISTORY Alicia sat obediently still as Consuelo stood behind her and struggled to tame her daughter's stubborn hair into the semblance of a style. Consuelo had taken on the task of preparing Alicia for the St. Valentine's Day dance with the zeal of an artist preparing her masterpiece for display. In a soft voice, Alicia asked, "Mom?" Distractedly, Consuelo answered as she continued brushing. "Yes, mija?" "Can you tell me about my father?" Consuelo froze. Putting her hands down slowly, she came around to face Alicia with a concerned look. "Why are you asking this now?" Alicia swallowed as she tried to bolster her courage. "Jack told me he could find out about him, if I wanted to, that is, but I… I wanted to ask you first. I mean, I know you always made a point of not telling me, and I wasn't sure why, but I didn't want to go around you if there was a reason and…" She swallowed again as her voice ran down. Consuelo gave a deep sigh and sat on the other chair. She sat, looking at Alicia as her face ran through a gamut of emotions: love, sadness, guilt. Finally, it firmed with determination. "You're right, Alicia. The time for lies and silence is over. I'm sorry for keeping this from you all these years. I wish I could say I was doing it to protect you, but the bald truth is that I was ashamed of what you'd think of me." Alicia frowned in incomprehension. "Mom? What do you mean?" Consuelo shook her head gently. "Just listen... "I was still in high school, although I confess I was a poor student. I spent more time hanging out in the streets than in the classroom, something that didn't please my parents at all. Not that I cared; when you're that age, you're so sure you have all the answers." She gave Alicia a significant look that wasn't lost on her daughter at all. "I went to a party with some friends, or what I thought were my friends. I drank too much, danced too much, flirted too much. One of the boys in our group thought that gave him the right to ask more from me than I was willing to give, and when I said no, he was rather… insistent. "I was trying to push him off of me and not getting very far, when he showed up. He basically picked the boy up, shook him like you'd shake a rat, and tossed him away." Consuelo looked at Alicia with a wistful face. "He looked so… different, in an exotic, attractive way. Yes, he had eyes like yours, Alicia, and broad shoulders that looked like he could lift the whole building on his back and not feel the strain. His hair was wild, but soft, as I found out later. He took me away from the party and we spent the night together. "Afterwards, I couldn't stay away. When Mom and Dad found out, we had a horrible fight over it. I ended up yelling at them, grabbing my stuff, and running away. He was happy to take me; I moved right in, and I thought I was living a dream. "The only name I ever heard him called was 'Gato.' I wasn't sure what he did for a living, but there was little doubt that it was illegal and it certainly made him a decent amount of money. We never had problems going out and doing things. He was rough, but I thought that was the way of things, and I wanted so much to be a part of his life forever." Consuelo's voice hardened as she continued. "After about a year or so, he came home with another girl. We fought about it, and he basically told me the score. I was just a bit of fun, a pastime for him, just one in a line of girls that he brought home to entertain himself with. I was furious; like the silly girl I was, I called him names and walked out of yet another home. "I didn't know what to do. I was young, with no money, no high-school degree, no real job skills. I wandered about and ended up in a homeless shelter run by some nuns. A month later, I started getting morning sickness. "The thing was, finding out I was pregnant with you is what gave me the strength to fight back. With the nuns' help, I got a GED and did odd jobs to make enough money to get through. "When you were born, there was a lot of concern about the way you looked, but I didn't let it stop me. I made sure the doctors were able to clear you as healthy, I got an associate degree and certification so I could move up to a better job with the right benefits. I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't grow up to make the same mistakes I did. And in the end, I wasn't able to stop it from happening…" Consuelo's voice choked with a sob as tears ran down her cheeks. "I was so focused on things like making enough money and providing for us, that I lost track of what was important. I almost lost you. I-I'm so sorry…" Alicia rushed up to hug her mother, and the two women clasped each other tightly, crying silently. After a while, Alicia calmed down enough to pull back and look at Consuelo. "Did… did you ever see him again?" Consuelo shook her head with a sad smile as he idly brushed a lock of Alicia's hair from her forehead. "No, I guess I wasn't important enough for him to track me down. And I certainly had no reason to look for him. The only good thing that I got from my time with him was you." Alicia looked at Consuelo for a few seconds as she struggled to absorb this new information. Finally, she held her mother's hands, and in a firm voice, said, "Mom, I don't care what you may think. I'm not ashamed of you; you've done so much for me, made so many sacrifices. I'm sorry for not appreciating it before, but I want you to know that I'm proud that you're my mom, and that I want to make sure you're proud of me someday." Fresh tears ran from her eyes as Consuelo smiled lovingly at her daughter. "Oh, mija, I'm proud of you now." This started another round of hugging and crying that took another while to subside. Finally, Consuelo was the one to pull back, striving to inject a businesslike tone to her voice. "Enough caterwauling. I have a daughter who needs to look spectacular for her first real school dance, and I have enough work to do without having to deal with puffy eyes. So you sit up straight and be still." Alicia smiled and quickly complied. "Sí, mami." Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: Kat on March 21, 2009, 05:13:34 PM Thursday afternoon, after school. Sammy is in her room, waiting for the chemicals to finish doing their job on her hair. She sits on an unzipped sleeping bag which lays unfurled on her naked mattress. Her bedspread and sheets lay where they landed after being tossed in the corner. She is staring at the walls over her desk and dresser. With a heavy sigh, she picks up a shoebox and begins stripping things off the walls. Sugar packets. Postcards. Photographs of New York and Washington DC at Christmas time, of blurry lights photographed as he zoomed past them. A photograph of a pair of snow angels. Any souvenir of anything she did with him, anything that reminds her even remotely of him. It's all got to go. She has to decontaminate herself and her surroundings if she has any hope of getting through this without... without what? Shut up. Just do it. All of it goes into the box. She doesn't allow herself to linger over any of it. The last thing to come down is a map of the United States. She uses it to wrap the box, instantly regretting the decision as her fingers accidentally brush over a pinhole marking a place they visited, a buffet they cleaned out, a large ball of rubber bands they admired. It's too late to stop though, so she keeps going, using extra tape to smooth over those spots as she finds them. Done. She looks at her bed. Probably easier to switch rooms than get rid of it too, but they sat there. Together. On my bed. In my room. Even if I change rooms, if the mattress is still there... maybe I can pet sit a cat who will pee on it. Even Dad wouldn't argue with replacing it for that reason. A while later she trudges down the stairs with the bedclothes under one arm, the filled box under another. The box is set down near the boot rack, and she goes to find a large garbage bag for the rest. "Honey?" her mom says "If you're doing some laundry, I have towels... but wait, those just came out of the wash yesterday?" Then she looks at Sammy's face, and notices what she's done to her hair. "Oh my. Boy trouble? But the sheets and spread... you haven't... have you?" Sammy sighs dramatically. "No. Not like that. Nothing that I did on them anyway. I washed them a couple of times, but I can't get them clean enough. I can't look at them without... I want them to go to Goodwill, or Salvation Army, I don't care, so long as they're gone. I'll use my sleeping bag until I can buy myself a new one." Her eyes couldn't meet her mother's, and as a result, they drifted over the powder room door. "Shit! I forgot about the door handle." She blushes. "Sorry Mom. Yes, its a boy. No, I don't want to talk about it. I just want to make it go away, so I'm cleaning up and throwing things out. Detoxifying my environment as much as I can. I'll get rid of it all Saturday morning." Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on May 21, 2009, 07:17:52 PM London Calling (event taking place shortly after the last dimensional rift) SarahD2 gives Dave a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks again Dave. You came through... again... like always, everywhere." With a sigh she lets him go. Dave smiles and looks at the two girls. "It's no problem. It will be nice to have more friends over in Europe and better than having two Sarahs bothering me all the time." The two girls give the senior the same grumpy look leaving Dave in stitches and he walks off laughing towards the entrance. SarahD2 holds up her plane ticket and new identification to Sarah. "I'm ready to jet. I've never been on a plane before. I hope it's as easy as everybody tells me." Sarah grimaces. "Well if you're like me you are NOT going to like it. Hang in there. It will be okay. You know you are safe no matter what so just hold onto the armrests and grit your teeth. You'll be on the ground and safe soon enough. Disappearing off a plane will get your id flagged and that would be bad." "Thanks for the pep talk," grouses SarahD2. "Like you'd buy it if I said it was breeze. You'd jump ship at the first bump and the Atlantic is kinda big to cross for us just yet. Hopping the pond is harder than it sounds. Arctic conditions, strong winds, storms. Thousands of jumps across that pond and that's only if you're getting your directions right." "Okay Mom," SarahD2 snarks before smiling softly. "Thanks again for getting me settled somewhere. Maybe you could come visit sometime?" Sarah nods, "I'll come out this summer. Who knows, maybe by then it won't be such a big jump." She adjusts her twin's jacket and brushes back a loose strand of hair. "I'm going to miss you. It was nice having a... a sister." SarahD2 nods and says, "You still do. I'll just be over in England." The girls blink at each other and Sarah asks, "You wanna know the *real* difference between us?" SarahD2 replies, "Let me see... I know how to fence and you don't... Or I have class and you don't. Take your pick." Sarah says with a grin, "Why I oughta!" SarahD2 says, "Thanks for giving me the chance to spend time with your family. It was nice having a happy home life for a little while." "That reminds me," Sarah says, "What did you do to Mart? He's avoided me like the plague since I got back." SarahD2 blushes. "I might have given him a few hugs and told him I loved him." Sarah raises an eyebrow. SarahD2 lowers her head, "Where his friends could see us." Sarah opens her mouth, "Oh no! You broke the code!" SarahD2 looks worried until she sees Sarah's grin. "Don't worry," says Sarah, "He'll get over it. We just have an understanding of public vague dislike. Seems that too many people think that it is the only appropriate relationship between siblings. We wouldn't want to disappoint." "Sorry," offers SarahD2. British Airways Flight 298 is now boarding. Both Sarah's look towards the terminals. "I'd better go." "Yeah." At the same time they say, "Tell Megan hi.." "I'll tell Megan you said.." "Yeah." The girls hug and SarahD2 heads towards security. Sarah grumbles to herself as she walks towards Dave, "Finally find someone who understands what goes on in my head and she takes the first flight out of town." She joins up with Dave and smiles brightly at him. "Thanks for everything Dave. You are a life saver. Tropical flavored. Not one of the gummys." As usual her friend manages to suss out that she is implying a compliment and nods. The ride away from the airport in the VanGo is a quiet one. Dave comfortable with silences and Sarah not really knowing what to say about events. As they make their way into outskirts of Chicago he looks at his freshman passenger and asks, "You okay?" Sarah nods and looks out the window. A light mist starts coating the windows. "Right as rain," she says. She'd wait to cry until she was in her room. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on May 27, 2009, 10:02:08 PM Here's a semi-glimpse, set around two years after freshman year at Oak Park PAYBACK'S A BITCH The drug dealer ran like hell down the poorly lit alley. He risked a glance back and tripped over a garbage can, scattering the contents and himself on the ground. He scrambled to his feet and kept running, his heart trip-hammering in panic as he tried to reconstruct what had happened. He'd been minding his own business at his usual corner, flanked by two heavies acting as bodyguards. The attachments came as an order from the guy at the top; it seemed a number of dealers had recently been getting hit so the extra heat was deemed necessary. Not that they'd helped any. The next thing he knew a dark-clad figure had literally come out of nowhere and taken them out in seconds. The dealer had chosen the smarter route and gotten the hell out of there, but now he was certain he was being followed, and he didn't want to see by who. Or what. Finally, out of breath, he paused, leaning against a filth-smeared wall. He strained to hear any sound of pursuit over his loud panting. He'd just about convinced himself he'd gotten away scot-free when a low throaty chuckle echoed in the alley. The dealer spun around, his gun out and pointing nervously at the darkness around him. "Whoever the f**k are you, you've f**ked with the wrong guy, motherf**ker!" he yelled, his threat losing some of its strength coming from his quavering voice. He had the barest warning before a baton swung out of the shadows and struck his gun hand, causing the weapon to drop from nerveless fingers. The punk didn't even have the time to draw breath for a cry of pain before a second blow cracked his chin, a third plowed into his midsection, and a final one pulled his legs out from under him. The dealer curled up into a fetal ball, crying and begging for mercy. He felt strong arms pull him up and slam him against a wall, the baton pressed against his neck. "P-please don't kill me! I swear, whatever you want, you got it!" pleaded the frightened crook. "Shut the f**k up, you piece of s**t," growled his attacker. The dealer looked and was surprised to see yellow-green eyes spearing him with a hateful gaze. The baton pressed harder against his Adam's apple, and he choked as the golden-eyed assailant hissed further. "I'm not going to kill you, more's the pity. I need you alive to send a message." "A m-message?" repeated the cowed criminal. "Yes," stressed his captor, pressing further to shut him up. "I want you to tell your boss, Marco, something... "Tell him Payback's a bitch... and she's looking for him." Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on July 06, 2009, 12:34:40 PM Just for yuks, assume this scene occurs a couple of days before Colin sends the text message in Chapter 59-3 ON THE PROWL The pimp rolled his decked-out limousine to a stop at a place on the curb marked with the ubiquitous wheelchair sign. He stepped out, ready for an evening of checking out his bitches and collecting his take. A low throaty voice floated out of the nearby alley. "Psst! Hey, buddy!" The pimp looked around in surprise and noticed the indistinct form crouched in the dimmness of the alley. "What the f**ck do you want, bum? I ain't got nothin' to give ya, muthaf**ka." "You parked in a handicapped spot." "What the f**k is that to you, you piece of s**t! Get the f**k outa my sight." There was a flash of motion and the pimp found himself being dragged into the darkness. "What the f**k? Wat'chu doing, you crazy bitch? Leggo of me!" "You don't understand. You broke the law, like this..." *SNAP* "Aaaah!" "And like this..." *CRACK* "Guhh..." "Heh. Now you can park in the handicapped spot." *gurgle* Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: BaboonBill on July 07, 2009, 12:32:52 AM Donnie floats eerily quiet in the woods. Birds chirp overhead and somewhere nearby, Pip carefully stalks a squirrel. Donnie is intent on catching his squirrel today, and not being laughed at by Pip like the last few Saturday mornings. His prey is on a branch, chittering at another squirrel two trees away. It has some sort of tree-nut in its paws, and sits back on its rump and tail to crack it open and get to the meat inside. A bird erupts from a hidden nest above, and the squirrel freezes, beady rodent eyes twitching back and forth as it searches for whatever caused the bird to leap from it's hiding place. Donnie pounced, gloved hand wrapping around its neck to keep it from biting his fingers. It shrieked in anger and fear as Donnie whooped in satisfaction. He searched for Pip and found the dragonet in the second tree over, having taken the other squirrel that had been arguing with this one. It twitched spasmodically from the poisonous bite of the dragon, held in place by the needle-like claws of Donnie's familiar. Donnie shakes his prey overhead at Pip, and the dragonette raises his head to the early morning sky and gives his throaty cough-like bark of victory. His eyes are whirling in amusement as Donnie clumsily tries to copy the cry. Pip jerlk his head at Donnie, tongue flipping out in as raspberry (a habit he learned from Donnie) and chirrups in amusement. Donnie cocks his head at his familiar, wondering why he isn’t speaking to him mind to mind when he feels a puff of minty breath next to his ear, and Alicia’s amused voice saying “You gonna share, Lagartijo?" He reacts as expected, with a surprised “GEYAH!” which causes the squrrel to escape from his hand as Donnie spins upside-down, half losing the concentration necessary for his flight spell. Alica, crouched on a branch and relaxed as she ever is, cracks a broad smile. Donnie smiles ruefully and rotates back to an upright position. “I was wondering if you were going to join us. I know it’s much earlier than your usual Saturday morning sleep-in..” Alicia lays bonelessly on the branch, a leopard calmly surveying her kingdom. She stifles a yawn and says “I thought I’d come out here and show you a thing or two, since you are a fat and lazy white boy.” Donnie quirks his mouth and wiggles his hand in her direction. With a loud CRACK the branch she’s laying upon splinters, and she goes tumbling downward, a surprised eep! Her only response before she’s reaching for other branches to catch herself. Of course, since Donnie manipulates her weight again, she’s suddenly lighter than air and pinwheeling madly to try and reach a branch. Donnie laughs and shoots off into the trees. “Catch me if you can, kitty-kat.” Alicia grabs hold of some branches and pulls herself back onto them just as her weight returns to normal. “Oh, you’re on, Lagartijo. You’re a dead man.” She leaps off in pursuit. ***** Pip calmly munches on the remains of his breakfast, flicking away the bushy tail as his master and the female laugh and chase each other through the trees. Humans are so strange about their mating rituals. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: cassbackward on July 07, 2009, 02:12:30 PM [And now, with permission and everything. . . . ] Alicia had known it was inevitable. Eagle's Nest, always short on the magically inclined, had sent her and Meme out to consult with Donald Douglas, premier expert on something the trade journals called cybersorcery. None of the others could understand why they wouldn't want to reunite with their old pal, and not to put too fine a point on it, the whole team was a little chickenshit about chasing him down in Arkham, the place where that whole convergence-of-improbability crap wasn't just a disembodied concept but could sometimes hunt you down and eat you. Alicia had used that possibility, and her need to watch out for it, as her lame excuse to hang out on the campus green, sunning herself, while Meme went to talk to Donnie in his office. He had his window open, and she had good ears, which meant she could hear most of what they said without straining. Of course, by the end of the conversation the whole quad could hear what they were saying. Donnie--always such an excitable bitch, that guy--seemed to be in good voice. "Hey, did I ask you to leave? Did I tell you it was over? You're the one who always kept me fenced out. You're the one who didn't even try to come back. I would've forgiven you if you'd given me half a chance." Wait. What? Alicia rolled off her back onto her belly and paid acute attention. "What can I say?" Meme said, her voice dry, remote, and cool. "I thought you'd be better off with someone who could really love you the way you deserved." "That's bullshit," he said angrily. "You know who you remind me of?" "No, who?" Meme asked with insincere curiosity. "My dad, that's who. You split town. You gave up on us. I loved you. We could have worked things out. We could still be together." "Take me back?" Meme said with baffling dispassion. She could be a cold fish, but not this cold, not to her friends. It was weird and kind of creepy. "No," Donnie said. "Not a chance. Too many years gone by for that, Sylvia. I've moved on." "Good," Meme said, sounding like herself again. Minutes later she exited the building, and Alicia fell into step beside her. "What the hell was that?" she asked. "What?" Meme said. "That stuff Donnie was saying about it all being your fault. I remember what went down. He drunk-dialed me--all of us--for two months, trying to track you down. 'Please, where is she? Tell her I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Syl. Oh god, I'm such a fuck-up!' He slept around on you, and he has the nerve to try to make it your fault?" Alicia clawed her hands, feeling a little righteous indignation on behalf of her girl. "I should go back and--" "No," Meme said, touching Alicia's shoulder. She sounded grateful, but firm. "He thinks it was me. That's fine." "But--" "He thinks I slept with Rob." "Rob?" Alicia found that hard to believe--although, to be honest, she could see how Meme might be a chubby chaser. "You slept with Rob? Why Rob?" "Because Rob could defend himself if Donnie did anything crazy." "So you're telling me you slept with Rob, and what, nothing happened?" "No," Meme said, scanning the sky, and Alicia did the same, guarding against the sound of little wings and the smell of chocolate chip cookies. "But that's what Donnie remembers." Comprehension popped like a firecracker. Alicia felt a chill roll up from the pit of her stomach. It was Meme--Sylvia, whom she'd known for eight years, who could be an icy bitch, but not that kind of bitch. "Madre de dios, what the hell, chica? Why would you do that? Why would you fuck with his head like that?" Meme sighed and pressed in a little closer as they walked. She spoke in a hush, which was kind of her. Telepathy would have freaked Alicia out right then. "Donnie's mother was an alcoholic." "Uh-huh?" "His dad basically up and left them for his secretary." "Okay," Alicia said, not quite familiar enough with the details to put things together. "So. . . . " Meme shrugged, then shook her head, maybe in regret. "Donnie's a good guy. He was even a good boyfriend, most of the time." Alicia clamped down on the urge to cringe and focused reflexively on, oh, the alphabet song. A, B, C, D, E, F, G. Not thinking about it. Not thinking about it. Not thinking-- "Uh-huh?" she said, maybe a little too brightly. "When I found him," Meme said, "he was in a bar in Tucson, smashed, telling the waitress about how he was just like his dad, an asshole who couldn't keep his dick in his pants, and I kind of thought, if I didn't do something, he'd be sitting there on that barstool for the rest of his life, telling that same damn story and feeling like shit." "Like he didn't deserve it," Alicia said with the requisite solidarity-between-girlfriends sneer. "Yeah, but like I said, he's a good guy. So. . . . " Meme shrugged again. "You made him think it was your fault, and like that, everything was fixed?" "Now, instead of thinking he's like his dad, he thinks I'm like his dad. It's better this way. He doesn't cry as much, and he smells better." "Okay," Alicia said, reaching into her pocket and passing Meme a tattered Girl Scout-green badge with a snarly face embroidered on it. "You win Scary Bitch Of The Day. I owe you a drink." "Thanks," Meme said lightly, tucking the badge in the breast pocket of her jacket. And then, after a pause, Alicia had to ask, "So that's the only time you've done that, right? Just once, just to Donnie?" Meme slid her an arch look. "You know that thing you keep trying not to think about?" Alicia bit her lip. "No?" "As long as you remember it, you'll know I haven't messed with your head--'cause trust me, mami, that'll be the first thing to go." Alicia cringed for real. "You know, I always wanted to tell you, but--" "Ah," Meme said, snapping her fingers together like a duck's bill. "Let's not talk about it." "But I really just want you to know I'm so, so sorry--" "I could use that drink now," Meme said with warm aplomb. Alicia didn't always know when to shut up--it wasn't one of her strengths--but she decided now might be a good time to give it a try. Forgive and forget, as they liked to say. And she knew, if she ever needed a little help with the forgetting part, whom she should ask. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: BaboonBill on July 08, 2009, 01:18:19 PM Donald Douglas the 3rd, BorderLord of the Dragon Reach, Magus of 4th Circle, Dragonrider and Knight Draconis of the Summerwild throws his battered leather briefcase on the equally scarred table, knocking some of the items from his messy desk into the chair and onto the floor. Without stopping, he walks to the corner of the room where his locked bureau loomed, darkly stained draconic wood carvings poking out like gargoyles from an ancient cathedral. A gesture and the door pops open, a stream of golden symbols running down the door before disappearing, the pale light the only illumination in the dark classroom. Don loosens his tie and hangs it carefully amongst the other ones, including the bone necklace he had made from the fingerbones of the enemy that slew Pip so many years ago. The old pain pinches in his chest and he flicks the necklace, bones rattling against hardwood. The interior of the bureau is steeped in darkness, and Donnie reaches his hand into the otherworldly cold interior and pulls out a corked bottle, pestle and mortar, and a couple sealed tin cans that rattle quietly in his grasp. He turns around and places the items atop his briefcase, and closes the bureau back up, golden symbols running upward as it magically seals against intrusion. Don pulls back his shoulder length hair once again and ties it off with a sinew band, reciting the words for the spell in his mind. He steps over to the corner of the room opposite of the bureau where an immaculately clean area waits, a podium with a splotched and flame scarred top in the center of a copper loop sealed in the floor. Donnie does not activate the circle though. “Hey Colin, light the brazier, would you?” From his casual position on the windowsill, lit only by the faint light of the thin moon overhead, Colin smiles, his teeth startlingly white in the near darkness of the classroom. “You knew I was here?” Don smiles at his old friend. “When my wards told me of another living thing in my chambers and the alarm spells had not gone off, I figured it might be you. Locked doors never were really a problem for you, even magically sealed ones.” Colin’s face is lit by the flame from the worn silver lighter that was as much a part of him as his hand or foot. He blows a puff of air out, and the flame disappears, only to reappear in the brazier, flickering among the coals. Don looks at Colin passively as he takes pinches of seeds and reagents from the tins, combining them in the old stone mortar. “I know we haven’t seen exactly eye to eye over the years, but you know I’m here to help you if you need me.” He begins grinding the components together, scraping and crushing with the pestle to turn them into a fine and well mixed powder. Colin Crow steps into the light generated by the glowing brazier. “Actually, Donnie, I’m here to help you.” Scrape scrape Pause Scrape scrape “Me? What do I need help with?” Colin runs his fingers across the varied arcane and sundry items on the desk, tasting the memories and emotions embedded in each. He doesn’t look at Don while he does this, until his fingers pause over a crumpled bit of cardstock. He picks it up and bounces it in his palm. “You had a visitor recently, didn’t you?” Don stops his ministrations with the stone, tapping the edge of the pestle against the rim. He pours the concoction into a small silver bowl, lips pursed and jaw clenched. “Yeah. Sylvia and Alicia came a few weeks ago to ask me some questions about cybermagic. A new flavor has appeared, cybersorcery. Demons in the chips, hunting through the internet for weak souls. Possessions and random cultist killings are on the rise. I figure that’s why you’re here, demons being your usual foe and all.” Donnie winces slightly, whether from the memory of their first joint experience dealing with the demon possessed boy Leland, or the memory of the unpleasant visit by his ex-girlfriend. Colin shakes his head, face sympathetic. “No, that’s not why I’m here.” He tosses the balled business card into the brazier, and Don looks up, annoyed. He doesn’t let the sarcasm past his lips though, because of the serene look on Colin’s deeply tanned face. Don puts down his arcane implements and turns fully towards Colin, giving him his full attention. “Okay, shoot.” Colin leans back against the desk, at looks deeply at Don for a few moments before beginning. “There are truths you need to know, and truths you need to face.” “About Sylvia? What about her? She left me for the last time after I raged at her for sleeping with Rob.” Colin shakes his head. “Does that sound like the Sylvia we knew?” Don shrugs, his broad shoulders hunched. “No, which is why I was so pissed. I always suspected her and Logan, but never Rob.” Colin runs his fingernails along the woodgrain of the desk. “You weren’t an angel yourself, especially when you went the Reaches.” Donnie shifts uncomfortably and sighs. “That’s true.” Colin says quietly “But it’s what you did when you got back that was the real issue.” Don straightens up, body tense with anger. His eyes leaked into the lurid green as his emotions began to bubble and boil. “I came back and she had slept with Rob. That’s what happened, Colin. You and Sarah were off traveling the world, you didn’t know.” Colin steps close to Don. “No, Donnie. You need to remember.” He taps him on the forehead and sweeps away Sylvia’s overlain memories. It was simple, having been in Donnie’s head before and worked alongside Sylvia often when in another’s mind. Donnie’s reaction was predictable. After vomiting in the garbage can until he was dry-heaving, Don looked up at his old friend, his blue eyes hollow and in pain. “Oh god. Goddammit. How could she.. How could I..?” Colin looks down at him dispassionately. “You are not your father, Donnie. You are not your mother. You are not a dragon, but a man. A man of big appetites, emotions, and power. Your work in this life will change the world long after you are gone. But you really need to get over yourself, pal.” He helps the big blonde professor to his feet, Colin’s wiry frame holding a surprising amount of strength beneath the denim. “Why do you think none of the girls spoke to you after you went off to college? After Alicia and Sammy and the others, no one wanted to trust you anymore. John wanted to wring your neck. Half of the Midwest lost power when you and Sammy hooked up, and for three days magic phenomena bedeviled Chicago.” Don leans against the desk weakly as the memories flood his mind, the bingeing, the voracious appetites of all kinds he had after returning from the Reaches, still thinking like a dragon. The things he did and said to his friends. “I’m so, so sorry, Colin.” Colin shakes his head again, ever patient. “Life has moved on, Donnie. We all have grown up. Some have forgiven, some will never forget. I forgave you long ago, but until recently never knew why you had just pretended it never happened. Because to you, it had never happened the way the rest of us remember. No, you don’t need to apologize to me. Some of them might accept apologies, but the best way to earn forgiveness is by actions, not words. Give me the bottle.” Don looks sharply at Colin, who stands with his palm outstretched. He glances over at the wide bellied decanter in his sacred circle workspace. “No, Donnie. The one in your desk.” Don smiles sadly, breathing sharply through his nose. “The things you know..” He walks around to the desk drawer, unlocking it with a thought. He pulls out the unopened and dusty bottle of gin, handing it directly over to Colin. “Just because I rarely visit with you doesn’t mean I don’t watch over you, Donnie. Despite all our angry words and disagreements, we are still and always will be friends.” Donnie, feeling fourteen again, reaches out and embraces Colin, tears in his eyes. Colin returns the embrace, letting Donnie decide when to let go. As Colin walks out the door, he turns back to Don and says, “Don’t dwell, Donnie. Don’t let yourself get submerged in your selfish guilt. Tomorrow one of your students will make a major mistake in their work, and you need to be on your game, or people will die. Next week, somewhere a demon will gain access to a little girl through a mistyped web address, and I will be there to stop it. You need to find the source while I deal with the results. We have duties and people suffer if we are derelict.” He waves as he exits the room and Don can hear the flap of dark feathered wings in the hall. Colin’s voice echoes down the empty corridor. “Don’t make me come back here to kick your ass.” Don Douglas, man and teacher, chuckles and wipes the tears of anguish and anger from his eyes. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on July 08, 2009, 07:49:34 PM ROADSIDE PICK-UP The scene begins with a camera shot from low to the ground of a country bar. It's happy hour, and the sounds of voices and laughter waft out from the modest neon-lit structure. Chris Isaak's "Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing" starts to play as a finely tooled cowboy boot comes into view, crunching on the gravel. As the owner of the boot begins to stroll towards the bar, the camera follows along, rising high enough to admire the tight denim pants tucked into the boots and delineating the shapely legs underneath. The door opens, and the camera's POV switches to eyeball-height, showing us what our subject sees. The bar is crowded, conversation blurred into a cacophony of sound overlaying the music, which is now coming out of speakers in the bar itself. The camera continues following our subject as it moves through the room, noticing people's odd looks as it passes by. The camera, and our subject's attention, centers on a scruffy fellow sitting at the counter, swigging a beer. A gloved hand reaches out from off-camera to pull the man around. Our perspective now switches so we can see the man and our subject. It's Alicia, accompanying the boots and jeans with a motorcycle jacket over a bustier, goggles resting on her neck. Her yellow cat-like eyes regard the man with lazy appraisal. "Jim Weatherbee? I'm Special Agent Vega. You need to come with me and answer some questions about a transaction you made with some rather unsavory people two weeks ago. I'm bound by law to ask you to come quietly and cooperate." She leans forward to speak in a low conspiratorial tone, "But I'd consider it a special favor if you'd try to run away." She grins, displaying visibly prominent canines and a disturbingly hungry look. Jim looks at Alicia in recognition and, after a few seconds of shock, shakes his head vigorously. Alicia pouts, "No? You're not going to try and escape or resist arrest?" Another nervous headshake from Jim. "Damn," grumbles Alicia in disappointment. "Hey bitch!" an obviously inebriated voice calls out from the crowd. Alicia lights up, looking like a kid who's just walked downstairs on Christmas Day. She doesn't acknowledge the voice, though, keeping her pose facing Jim. "Didn't you hear me, bitch? I'm talking to you!" Alicia can hear the owner of the voice approaching. The noises he makes as he lumbers up lets her accurately estimate his height. It doesn't hurt that the mirror behind the bar gives her a pretty good view behind her, either. She waggles her eyebrows coquettishly at Jim and licks her lips in anticipation as she stands still, seemingly ignoring the loudmouthed lout coming near. "Why don't you get your skinny freak ass out of here before I..." Alicia waits until the drunk is close enough then slides one foot back, twists her body at the waist, and snaps her arm out, driving her elbow deep into the man's solar plexus. With a strangled choke, the man drops like a sack to the floor, wheezing in pain as his lungs decide to take a five-minute break. Alicia straightens up and calls out in a voice loud enough to be heard in the suddenly quiet room. "Anybody else want to lodge a complaint?" The silence is thick enough one can clearly hear the buzz from the fluorescent lights. Alicia grumps, "Didn't think so." She jerks her head at Jim, indicating the door, and he quickly jumps to obey. Outside, two other agents wait to escort Mr. Weatherbee to an interrogation room, where his acts of arms trafficking will come to light. Alicia ambles up to an official-looking car, where another woman waits, looking at Alicia with some amusement. "I'm telling you, Syl. We need to find a better caliber of criminal or we're going to die of boredom," Alicia tells Sylvia in disgust. "I like easy jobs," replies Sylvia with satisfaction. "Huh," Alicia says, still annoyed. She stops to looks at her partner expectantly, "Well?" Sylvia arches her eyebrow, "Oh please, that hardly qualifies." "Aw, c'mon! It's not my fault they're all chickenshit in there! I could go back in and start a fight!" Alicia whines. "Nope, sorry. It stays with me a while longer," Sylvia states primly, patting the pocket where the Scary Bitch of the Day badge is safely tucked. Grousing, Alicia goes around to the passenger side and gets in. Sylvia gets in behind the wheel and they depart the premises, their mission accomplished. Alicia tries to console herself, "Well, at least we'll make it back to base in time for dinner. It's taco night, and Alicia wants her guacamole!" she gushes happily. "Bullshit," Sylvia counters. "You just want to flirt with that cafeteria guy again." "Hey, what can I say? With a body like that, it would be a crime not to appreciate it." Thoughts of the young man and a tub of guacamole blend delightfully in her mind. Sylvia stares at Alicia as she sits there smiling dreamily. Without a word, she takes the badge out of her pocket and hands it over. Alicia is startled. "What?" "You earned it. Trust me. And next time, try not to think so loud." Sylvia goes back to focusing on the road. "Wait. What? Hey!" Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: motley on July 15, 2009, 01:08:31 PM Changes in 60 There are references to extracurricular activities which the uninvolved will overhear: Laney is hanging out with Sarah and Colin (not necessarily at the same time), training at Jack’s with Alicia (she does not mention studying unless Alicia does), continues to try (and continues to fail) to socialize with Sammy outside of drama club events, and meets with John on the weekends (They haven’t gone into detail about what precisely they’re doing). Other than that, Laney doesn’t expand on her projects unless asked directly. She does her best to dodge questions about what occurred during the spring break. She’ll never tan. Frequent outings under the sun only served to darken and multiply the spray of freckles across her perpetually wind-burned cheeks and pull red highlights from her black hair. That’s not to say she hasn’t physically changed. She’s become a wiry creature, healthier, no longer the skeletal shade of what a girl her age should be. Indeed, the sixteen-year-old filled out in naturally attractive ways that make it difficult for her to remain unnoticed, especially when she pulls her hair back from her face in the warmer weather. Jean re-asserted control over her niece’s wardrobe using similar tactics John described his own mother resorting to, allowing Laney to select three colors and that was that. Lime green, all shades of blue, and scarlet. Fortunately, asymmetrical patterns and bright colors are acceptable in the spring season; so, for once, Laney isn’t a walking fashion disaster. Although she still wears those heavy-toed shoes and typically has paint dried under her short fingernails. She usually rides her bike to school, now, but odds are in her favor that if she has need of the car it’ll be on a day she happens to have it. It’s during that last week in April Laney exhibits the most dramatic change in her behavior. Even so, her teachers and classmates probably failed to notice, and only the exceptionally observant may. The crowds, faces and voices, the ever-present threat of collision or distraction, even the chaotic chatter of her own cluster of companions at lunch (for the two days she is present at their table)…Nothing bothers her. Not only her footsteps, but every move seems choreographed like she is truly navigating through the world without a strained reliance on her physical senses. There are no embarrassing verbal outbursts, no apparent distress when she inevitably fails to connect to a conversation; she’s not late for any classes, and there are no accidents… Oh, yes, she’s still a challenge to communicate with, but there is a serene resignation in her gentle manner, as if she’s been cut adrift and is past caring. Happy? No, one couldn’t accurately use that word to describe the young woman. Content, perhaps, to work towards an undefined goal. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: BaboonBill on July 21, 2009, 02:08:24 PM A Darker Path Five minutes ago Don screamed in pain as the claws tore into his side, blood and flesh spattering the snow behind him, already trampled with the speed and fury of the battle. He spun away from the blow, sword of the Border Lord flashing through the air, reality ripping in its wake. A satisfying resistance shivered up his arm as wafer thin edge clove through flesh and bone. The demon-bird fell in pieces, shimmering into visibility as it died. Don drew in a ragged breath as the rest of the flock circled him, half seen in the wan light of the moon overhead. Beneath his feet, the riven creature collapsed into ash, as had the numerous ones before it. Don stood in a wide circle of churned ash and snow. Once again, he strained mightily to break the wide magic circle around him and summon aid from the Dragon reaches, but the barrier still stood strong and his draconic protectors could do nothing. As the demon-birds whipped through the air towards him again, their broad wings beating at him and two-inch talons grasping for him, he screamed a wordless challenge and threw his reserves into the fight, body bursting into flame as he opened the floodgates of his heart open, hylokka erupting into a conflagration. As he cuts and burns, he looked for the source of the magic circle, hoping to get close enough to break free or take out the enemy magician. Burning his reserves would only last so long. Twenty Minutes Ago Don rode silently on Althea in the cold, cloudless night. He was following a wordless cry of desperation that had interrupted his meditation an hour earlier. It had been magically sent, fueled by anger and fear, and had ‘tasted’ familiar to Don. He immediately leapt into action, hopping atop Althea and winging away from the dark campus of Miskatonic University. His teaching position at Miskatonic took hours of drudgery grading and reviewing students’ spell formulae, but he felt it was his duty to make sure his students never accidentally blew themselves or each other up. Preventing others from going nuclear had been his priority, since Sammy disappeared. The attack on Don had been sudden, well-orchestrated, and precise. A point above him had flashed into light, and he felt his connection to the Dragon Reaches instantly severed. Althea disappeared instantly and the blonde warrior-magician had plummeted towards the ground below, but had not panicked. Instead he was immediately searching for the source of the attack, and testing the barriers, will flashing out in alternating hammer blows and precise pinpoint strikes. The trap was spectacular and tailored specifically for him, Don quickly realized. The crafter was a practitioner of some power, and had somehow acquired a reagent of Don’s, perhaps hair or skin sample. He willed his wings into existence and the ephemeral draconic wings whipped out from his shoulders, slowing his decent. As he neared the ground, he heard bird-demons on the ether, screeching in nigh-inaudible ranges as they burst through the filmy and weakened barrier between this reality and that of some other darker one. They descended in a near silently howling flock, and Don dropped to the ground as they struck at him. He roared his challenge back, and was happy to see the bond between him and his badge of office was not prevented by the trap, the red-sigiled Sword of the Border Lord erupting into his hand with a tree shattering boom. The first three invisible creatures died in less than a second, but there were so many more coming. Now The last of the flock tried to escape, leaping upwards, but the fury of the Border Lord would not be slaked. Fire leapt from the Blade and burned it from the sky in an oily cloud of ash. Panting, Don held his arm close to his side to prevent his bulging entrails to slither from his rent abdomen. The pain was incredible, but he used the many hours of meditation to shunt it aside for the moment, as he searched for his foe. A crack of foot on branch spun him around, and the flames surrounding him rose as he pointed the sword at the sound. Colin stepped out, face flushed and alive. Don gagged as blood worked its way up his throat. He spit it aside and said “Colin? What is going on? I heard you, somehow. Are you trapped here too?” Colin shook his head. “No, Dragon Lord. I am not trapped here.” Donnie is shivering from bloodloss as his hylokka slowly spins off center, his balance beginning to fail. The fires around him begin flickering uncertainly, reflecting the confusion of his mind. “What? What is this Colin? Why am I here?” Colin closes his eyes and breathes deep, a gourmand drinking deep of the scents of a bountiful feast. “Your emotions are so strong, Donnie, so powerful. It’s intoxicating.” Donnie’s brows knit together as he tries to understand. “Did you.. do this?” Colin smiled and Donnie Douglas felt cold. Colin paces slowly around him, feet hop-stepping in a vaguely Native American dance as he murmurs. Don feels magic flit around him, and his sweat-plastered hair lifts off his brow, as tiny strands weave out from Colin and pluck at Don. “It was Laney that taught me this, Donnie, that we are all connected somehow. Even before we met her and learned how, all our experiences at Oak Park and after tied us inexorably together. I knew you were still there, just as I know Sammy is gone. Sylvia stripped away all her connections, so she is lost to me. But you and the few remaining others? Still tethered. Some by thin wispy strands, others by thick cords.” Don’s lip curls in a snarl as a growl trickles up his throat. “I suppose I’m one of the latter.” Colin bobs his head, shaggy hair covering the thick black whorls of sharp edged tattoos that cover his face. “Three deaths bind us. Leland was our first shared death. Hollowed out like a gourd and refilled with demon, his was the first touch of true evil we faced. It scarred us both. We felt guilty, helpless. It was a shared bond.” Don nodded. “I guess Jane Spofford was the second?” Colin missed a step in his dance. “That bitch’s soul is screaming in some hell. That I know. That was our second death, and the first murder. You were there, trying desperately to save me and Sarah, but you just weren’t fast enough. Sarah fell from the tower, and I felt her body hit the ground, just as our connection snapped. Jane stood there gloating, exulting in her stolen power. I couldn’t let her keep it. It was mine, and she had perverted it. You flew in, just a little late like always, and saw me rip it back from her, and use it to destroy her.” Don remembered it vividly, the incandescent explosion of spiritual energy that had caused him to nearly fall from Althea’s back. Colin using his totem to rip Jane’s eyes from their sockets as he leaped upon her, his rage warping the air as he reached his healer’s hands into Jane’s chest and ripped his power out of her, shattering ribs and bursting her heart. Her victory had been short-lived. Colin after Sarah’s murder had been brooding and remote, as he wrestled with what he had done, horror mixed with exultation over the death of his cruel hated foe. Donnie couldn’t reach him, and only Sylvia could break past the barriers and restore some equilibrium to Colin’s tortured soul. “I told you, Colin. The spite was not yours. When you took your power from her, it came away tainted with Jane’s own putrid desires and emotions. It wasn’t pure anymore.” “Fuck that Donnie. She was filth and the world is better off without her.” Donnie nodded. “Like Torrance?” Colin stopped in his tracks, looking up at Don with fever-bright eyes, deep in shadow. “How can you say that, Donnie? How she used you, flayed your mind like she did, then sent a van to smash you against a brick wall?” Donnie sunk to his knees, the effort to remain standing costing him too much. “I remember, Colin. I spent two months in traction, and it was only your power that let me walk again. I am always grateful for that. Until now.” He gestures around himself with the sword. “Until this.” Colin began his dance again. “Torrance swallowed her tongue while in solitary, Donnie. How could I have done that? I had already begun to understand what I could do. I feel emotions, I am empathic, but I have perfect memory, even emotional memory. I took away Darla’s humiliation, rape and pain, and even now, if I open that door I can feel the abuse, the violation, and the helplessness. I felt Sarah die, Donnie. I felt Jane’s death even as I perpetrated it. Can you imagine? Taking a life and experiencing both sides at the exact same moment, giver and receiver?” Don gags a little as the pain seeps through his mental barriers, or perhaps at his attempt to envision Colin’s experience. Through blood spattered lips, Don says “kālo 'smi loka-kṣaya-kṛt pravṛddho lokān samāhartum iha pravṛttaḥ.” “Time I am, destroyer of the worlds, and I have come to engage all people.” Colin tsked. “The Bhagavad Gita does not apply here. You are not the Pāṇḍavas.” His dancing became more animated, and through luminescent green eyes, seeing the arcane world around him, Don realized that Colin was not dancing alone. Shadows danced with him; barely formed, but mimicking his movements exactly. Colin’s solitary dance had somehow become a Ghost Dance. “The third death was Sammy, of course.” Don grunted, watching Colin and the dancers through slitted eyes. “I thought it would have been Hamilton.” “No, old friend. Hamilton’s death was not yours to share. If I were talking to Sylvia right now, it would be true. But she was never the same after nearly drowning in Hamilton’s mind as it died.” In his memory, Don recollected clearly the aftermath. He had, as usual, arrived just too late. He found Sylvia catatonic in the arms of John, who found nothing physically wrong with the girl, but who seemed unaware of the world around her. Hamilton’s death took something from Sylvia, and left a dark hole in its place. A part of the joy in Sylvia’s life had snuffed out. She threw away all her ‘Hello Kitty’ paraphernalia. She had stopped sewing pretty designs on her bags and jackets. And she had stopped confiding in Donnie. Worse still, Sammy had lost Elrod in the conflagration. After saving over two hundred students near the busses, she found out one of the two men she cared most for had died instead. It broke her for a long while, and she had sought consolation in the arms of Nick, who had been overwhelmed with her grief and poorly prepared to shoulder everything. Donnie had been too preoccupied with Sylvia’s predicament to lend much of a hand, but John had tried. Sammy never trusted John the same as she once had though, and John’s misery had added to the overall mélange of sorrow and strife. Now Don began to see how Colin had become this way. Buffeted with the powerful emotions, sorrow and strife of his friends, he began to absorb it all. In trying to heal the others’ suffering, he himself fed the poison within, the well of hate that started with Jane Spofford. “Why now, Colin? Why ten years after we graduated?” Colin whipped his hand through the air, and Donnie’s face split, as if ravaged by the claws of a hawk. He cried out and barely stayed upright. “Shut up Donnie, I’m soliloquizing.” “Do you remember the day, Donnie? Remember when Sammy lost it all? Laney said something. I don’t remember what, but Sammy just freaked out and Alicia got all in her face? Then John tried to step in, and Sammy blew her top, flinging them both out the cafeteria wall. John got up, Alicia didn’t. That was it for dear old Sammy. She freaked out getting madder and screaming, and pretty soon we all were being tossed around the cafeteria like bowling pins. Somehow you had missed that Sylvia had once again been talking to Smith, and she said she was going to turn Sammy off to save us.” Donnie pushed himself back up to a full kneeling position, one hand using the sword to stay upright. “I saw how you helped people Colin. I saw what happened sometimes. I didn’t want you to lose it like you did with Jane or Leland. Sometimes your helping was worse.” “Oh and that ended so well, didn’t it Donnie?” The Dragon Lord grimaced. It hadn’t ended well. Colin had tried to stop Sylvia, and Donnie had delayed him, fearful of the consequences and ignorant of what would happen. Sylvia turned off Sammy, but her power continued to escalate. Sylvia had turned off her ego, but her id remained. Finally, as the bricks on the walls of the school had begun to rattle, John took her. He leaped and caught her, and kept going up and away from the school. Some sort of explosion happened far in the sky, and neither Sammy nor John had been seen again. “How do you know she died Colin? No one knew.” “I did, Donnie. Connections, remember? Threads of fate. Laney knew. And through her I found out how to see them, and use them. I had connections to everyone. I heard Samantha’s last words because of that link. Want to know what she said as the air thinned and some of her consciousness came back at the last few seconds? John, you can fly.” “And then she died. Supernova in the sky.” Tears leaked from Don’s eyes. “I know I fucked up. I know people died because of me. Why do you think I struggle to keep students from destroying themselves and each other?” Colin continued to dance, tsking again. “To little too late, Donnie. I know what you did later. I know you summoned infernal powers, seeking a cure for Sylvia’s deadness, her unfeeling wall that surrounded her. I tried to get past it, tried to get the demon inside her, but she kept me out. Every time I tried to renew the strands of fate, she cut them off. I don’t know how she knew what to do, but she did it.” Don laughs, rasping voice bubbling into a bloody cough. “You condemn me for summoning demons? What arrogance. What were the invisible crow demons that attacked me, Colin? Manifestations of your will? No. I know you have Jane’s book, you lying sonofabitch. You said it was destroyed, but now I know. You used it, or it used you, whatever. But now the souls of the dead dance to your tune, and they power you. Their agony and suffering fuels you, and you grow powerful by it.” Don’s legs had gone numb and he fell to his side with a grunt and an involuntary gasp of pain. Colin doesn’t disagree as his dance becomes more frenzied. “Why am I here, Colin?” Colin, voice strained as he speeds up the dance. “You don’t deserve to live, Donnie. Too Late Donnie. You were never there for any of us, never on time. We all suffered because you came just after you were most needed. You’re one of the most powerful of us left, one of the ones I have the greatest ties to. Well, I think it only fair that YOU die so that I can bring back my only love. I will use your death to bring back Sarah.” Donnie could only lie there, shocked. The Ghost Dance was to bring power to the shaman, and with that power, the shaman was rumored to bring back the power of his oppressed people. This was a perversion. Don’s tears form runnels down his face from the ash and blood. “You fool.” Colin’s only response was to dance harder, and Don could feel is life force being drawn out of him, spun away faster than his blood was leaking from his rent wounds. “You forgot,” Don gasped. “One person you can’t detect. No strings, Colin.” Sylvia stepped up behind Colin and laid her hands on either side of his head. “I made a phone call before I left.” The world goes dark. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on July 25, 2009, 01:27:16 PM You've Been Served. A story that happens somewhere along the way... Sarah walked down the street to one of her favorite spots in Oak Park, BhodiJava, a small cozy coffee bar that sold amazing fair trade coffee and perfect biscotti. She had been in a sweet and childish state of mind that morning and was dressed to reflect her mood. She had on a plaid jumper, a warm long sleeve shirt, matching tights and a blue pea coat with huge buttons. To top off the adorable factor she'd put her hair up in pigtails. She'd grabbed the green bag she'd taken to school the day before. Sarah had her mind set on one of the house blends with loads of sugar. Jake behind the counter always called her a barbarian which made her giggle. Her spirits soared at the sign of the Bhodi tree growing out of a coffee mug. The front doors of the place blew outwards and from inside came cries of terror and a deep roar as from some huge animal. Sarah stood frozen in amazement. I thought this stuff only happened in designated war zones like high school. A middle aged man wearing an apron flew out the opening towards the street and into traffic. Jake! *zwip* Sarah appeared in the middle of the street to intercept her favorite barista in mid flight. A bright Blue Nissan Murano rolled towards them. The drivers face was hidden behind a tipped back double grande cup of Monopoly coffee. Jake slammed into Sarah just as the Nissan's front fender banged her hip sending her and the man she was attempting to save under the front of the car. *zwip* "Ow! Ow... ow. ow. ow." The two lay on the sidewalk a half a block up from BhodiJava. There was a screech of tires in the street and a car door opening. The bruise blossomed up Sarah's side and the pain was amazing. Oh god that hurts! Ow.. crap Ow! She rolled to her side to check on Jake. The Barista was sitting up, blinking in disbelief. "Sarah?" He asked in startled amazement. "Are you okay? What happened? That guy threw me out into the road and now I'm here.. what happened? Did I land on you somehow?" "Yeah, must have right?" grunted Sarah in pain. More cries came from the coffee house and another roar of anger. "You stay where you are Sarah. I've got to get back to the shop and stop that thing somehow. Call the police. Everyone is still in there." "No! Call them from the shop next door. It won't be safe to try in there. The faster the cops come the safer everyone will be." Sarah panted a little and Jake noded. "You're right. You'll be okay Sarah. Help is on the way!" The coffee shop owner ran into the trendy little shop selling women's fashions and Sarah ported to the door of the coffee shop. Still lying on the sidewalk saved her from catching one of the heavy leather chairs in the face. The furniture flew over her head and smashed into a parked car. The alarm siren started blaring and Sarah winced. The inside of the shop was wrecked. The patrons hid beneath the turned over tables. More of the comfy chairs were tossed all around and the counter was a disaster area. One of the coffee machines looked like it had been crushed like a beer can and Jake's staff was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully they were safe behind the counter or in the back room. In the middle of the room stood the problem. The biggest person Sarah had ever seen in her life. Not just large but massive. A man maybe seven feet tall and easily more than five hundred pounds was holding the cash register in one hand like a paper weight. She watched as he smashed it down on the granite counter top. Pieces flew everywhere and the drawer spilled out. Sarah fished for the cell phone in her pocket to call in the crew. She pulled out the top half of the flip phone, it's face cracked. "Stupid driver." she muttered. Sarah was on her own for now. She pulled herself up slowly while the giant inside scooped up bills and shoved them in into one of a string of fanny packs that were tied around his waist like a giant sized utility belt. Gritting her teeth she was finally able to stand on both feet and yelled out, "Hey! Kate Moss! Yeah I'm talking to you Slim!" Witty was something for people not in a lot of pain. The huge thief turned at the sound of Sarah's voice and squinted at her as if in disbelief. In a voice as large as he was the man said, "Beat it little bitch before I step on you and your mommy has a pancake for a kid." "You tossed my friend out into traffic. That doesn't work in my town." "Your town? Just shut up!" Big Gulp hurled the remains of the cash register at Sarah's head. She had been ready for that and ported just in front of the flying register only to meet an approaching fist from this man who was quicker than she thought. "Crap." The punch sent her sailing across the room to crash into one of the few remaining upright chairs before sending it tipping backwards. A faint squeal from behind her startled Sarah out of the haze of pain. What the??? Her pack squirmed and wriggled until a small head covered in sugary crumbs popped out of the side through a rapidly expanding hole. Yeee! "Pip!" she whispered excitedly. The small lizard quorked and pulled itself out of Sarah's sadly dissolving backpack. "I'm in trouble. Tell Donnie to get over here pronto and then find some cover till he gets here. We'll jump this guy all at once!" The lizard wriggled down to the floor and disappeared in a moment amidst the piles of tossed furniture. The floor creaked alarmingly as the giant strode towards Sarah. She looked up in time to see his foot descending towards her. Apparently the man planned to make good on his pancake promise. Sarah vanished and the chair was crunched into the floor. "You better run girly. The Mountain will flatten you." Sarah calls from the granite countertop. "Seriously, you're speaking in the third person now? The Mountain? Listen to yourself. OMG I mean are you some super hero comics fanboy that drank a radioactive Big Gulp or something?" The piece of broken furniture that flew at Sarah was expected but the force behind it was tough to deflect. "Maybe you should go with Mongo or Double-Wide. Something a little more down to earth until you build up some street credit. I don't think you get to call yourself 'The' anything until you've fought some major heroes or escaped from a super max security. Or managed to rob a coffee shop without a little girl foiling your plans." She caught a glimpse of Jake's employees crouched safely behind the sturdy bar. The Mountain bellowed and charged but Sarah moved again to lean against the wall by the front door. A chunk of the granite counter flew at the redhead and she brought her staff up once more. The force behind the throw was more than she could manage this time and she was knocked back out into the street to land on the sidewalk again. "Double crap." she groaned and slowly pulled herself up to a sitting position. She could see inside that The Mountain had hefted another piece of counter. "Face it kiddo. You're out matched. Just run home and stop bothering me before you really get hurt." That was when something fabulous happened. Pip rose up on silent wings from behind the counter. "You might be right," Sarah acceded. "But I've got something you don't big guy." "What's that?" sneered The Mountain. Donnie appeared next to Sarah and said, "Friends, asshole." Pip screeched from behind The Mountain who turned at the noise and caught a face full of acid for his troubles. He staggered back with a cry and kept going, suddenly weightless. He drifted towards the opening where the front doors had been. Sarah and Donnie grabbed the back of the man and hauled him through the doorway and out into the street above them where he floated helpless. The massive man screamed and swore at the top of his impressive lungs. The daisy chain of fanny packs had ripped loose and dangled from a back loop of The Mountains pants. Sarah gave Donnie a huge hug. "My heroes!" she cried with joy. Pip flew out and spiraled around the giants body, hissing and snapping. Donnie returned the hug before asking, "Are you okay Sarah?" She nodded and smiled. "Yeah, I'm just messy and a little sore," she lied a bit. Donnie looked at her with obvious suspicion at her words but said instead, "I called Chris on my way over and got the proper authorities on their way over here. He said the regular cops would stay clear until then." "Oh good. I can clean up before they get here," she said with a perky note. Donnie offered, "We can just tie him to a car and leave a note if you want to clear out. The spell will last for a while and we can get you checked out. Or I can wait around. Althea's up on top of the building just in case." Sarah shook her head, "Thanks, maybe in a little while. I want to deliver this package personally." Her friend, her teammate and her GM looked at her and was suddenly able to appreciate the imagery of the situation. He started laughing and said, "I've got to watch this." A short time later three large vans pulled around the corner to find a young girl standing in the middle of the street holding the strangest balloon in the world. Hard eyed men approached cautiously with weapons at their sides. Waiting for them to come reach easy speaking distance Sarah blew a large pink bubble. After sucking it back in she called out. "Scuse me misters. My b'loon caused a lot of trouble today. He broke up the coffee shop, threw a nice man out the door and stole stuff. He's really strong so careful 'kay?" She skipped over to the startled police and handed one of them the end of the belt that held on to the floating, twisting, swearing Mountain. "Bye now." She waved cutely and vanished. Donnie put down his camera and laughed. Down on the street the two lead officers stared at each other dumfounded. Later that day the photo he submitted to the paper landed him some solid cash. The picture was taken from a higher angle and showed the back of an adorable young girl under a massive human balloon just as she was handing the tether over to gaping police. A blurry phone camera photo further down the same page showed a dragon soaring over the city in an unrelated blurb article about another Dragon sighting with speculation on it's effect on everything from crime to the pigeon population. Title: Process of Elimination Post by: opensesame on July 31, 2009, 07:25:31 AM A 'what if' leaving unanswered questions and unresolved possibilities Process of Elimination Sarah ran up to Sylvia and called out, "Sylvia! Quick!" "What is it Sarah?" asked Sylvia with a worried expression. "Let's go surprise Donnie and Colin and go out for a soda or something normal!" Sarah says with a grin. Relieved that the world didn't apparently need saving at the moment she gladly stuffed her things in a bag and took Sarah's hand. In a heartbeat the near freezing waters of Lake Michigan engulfed her. The pressure on her lungs was intense. What? Sarah! What went wrong? The glowing green of Sarah's staff was the last thing Sylvia remembered seeing. Her body slowly sank to the bottom. Twenty minutes later a dried off Sarah found Samantha Jameson sitting on the edge of the stage. Sammy smiled at Sarah, "Did you just take a shower?" Sarah grinned and said, "Yep. Wanted to freshen up a bit. I felt like the bottom of the lake. I dropped by to ask if you wanted to see something neat." "What?" asked Sammy with a suspicious, but curious tone. "It's a surprise!" said an exasperated Sarah. "Okay, okay but this had better be good. I have to be back in about twenty minutes. Nick is meeting me here." said Sammy. "Ooh. Anything tasty or just some school stuff?" Sarah asked clearly hoping Sammy would dish. Sammy replied coyly, "A little from Column A a little from Column B." "Sweet," said Sarah, "Then no problem. I'll get you back here quick as I can." She held out her hand and the two teleported... Into blackness. They were pressed together and Sammy asked, "Sarah? Where are we? A boys locker or something?" Sarah responded in the dark, "Nothing so boring. I found a small metal tube with no air holes. Bye." The body next to Sammy vanished. "Sarah!!!!!" Her voice echoed and pounded in the small tube deep beneath the earth far away from any light and friends for a very very long time.... "Where is she John!?!" Sarah yelled across the library. John, Donnie and several other library residents looked up, startled at the angry tone of the young redheaded girl storming across the room. The librarian was making a bee line to intersect her and Sarah told her in an angry tone, "You didn't hear anything." before walking on to John, leaving a dazed and slightly perplexed woman standing behind her. She eventually drifted back towards her desk while Sarah slapped her hands on the table in front of John. "Where is Sylvia, John?" "I don't know what you're talking about Sarah. She's missing? I'll start looking right away. You call everyone." Sarah slapped John. A move so out of character that John couldn't even begin to dodge it. "Sarah, what the hell? I don't know where Sylvia is. Let me go look..." The second slap was stopped with a lightning fast, iron grip. Tears started pouring down Sarah's face. Donnie rose slowly from his table and walked over. The moment he'd heard Sarah ask he'd started sending out a mental call for Sylvia and dialing her number all at the same time. There was no answer. "Just tell me John. Is she hurt? Sammy said you two were having a screaming fight about something earlier and she told you to leave her alone. She said she heard you tell her it wasn't over by a long shot." She used her voice and said, "You want to tell me what happened between you and Sylvia, John." John blinked and sagged. The memories all came back to him now. It was all too much. He let go of Sarah and started crying. Shaking his head he said, "But it doesn't make sense." Sarah stepped back a bit, worried that something was going wrong. "I love her.. loved her. Why didn't she just understand that? Why did she always have to fight it?" Donnie's fists clenched together, turning white. "Sarah," Donnie said in the coldest of winter voices, "Make him tell you where she is right now." Sarah blinked at Donnie wide eyed. She nodded and looked at John, "John, tell me where Sylvia is." John shook his head, "She's gone. She's gone. She can't come back from there. It had to be that way. I couldn't let her talk. It would only be worse..." Sarah interrupted, "John, where is Sylvia?" "The Lake." "Where on the Lake dammit!!" screamed Donnie. His eyes flamed green and outside a dragon roared. John looked up at Donnie and said in a hollow voice, "The bottom." The fight was short and one sided. John barely struggled. Sarah stood back and let it happen. Colin raced in to see Donnie burst outside, bloody sword in hand. A dragon claw scooped him up before they both vanished. Colin quickly realized that John was beyond healing. He looked to Sarah who stood with tears in her eyes and blood spattered on her clothes. "What happened Sarah?" She shook her head and wrapped her arms around Colin. She cried into his shoulder and told him, "John killed Sylvia. She's at the bottom of the lake. Donnie killed John and I think he's gone looking for Sylvia. Sammy is already out looking. I don't know what to do!" "We'll find her Sarah. God and Great Spirit how did this all happen without me hearing something? We'll find Samantha and start looking across the lake. Smith could help us find her." "No! Colin no! If Sylvia is ... If he finds out... very bad things." Colin nodded, "You're right. We'll try on our own for now. You call Samantha and I'll call Chris and let him know we need to search the lake. Sarah and Colin stepped apart and made their respective calls. Sarah got a voicemail box after being told the caller was out of range. "I can't get a hold of Sammy. Maybe her phone is off or she's too far away?" "If Sylvia is dead I can try and reach her. Her spirit may be lingering or my friend might be able to relay a message." Sarah nodded. "That's worth a try. Should we go to the cemetery. That way if you can't reach Sylvia you can pass on the message right?" Colin nodded and agreed. "That's a good idea. Do you want to try and find Samantha?" Sarah shakes her head, "I want to stay with you if that's okay? I want to know if Sylvia is... okay isn't the right word is it? If her soul is... I don't know.. at peace?" Colin smiles and hugs Sarah, "We can hope wonder-girl. If she's not, maybe we can fix it." "Come on." Sarah holds out her hand. Colin twines his fingers in hers just as a raven starts flapping against the library window glass. *zwip* Free falling over Chicago Colin looks at Sarah with alarm. He wonders at the appropriateness of this during an emergency. But figured she was doing it to remind herself of life. He starts to say, "You're crazy won..." but she was gone and he was alone in the wind. It is the middle of the night and Donnie stepped off a Coast Guard boat. He said a few words of thanks and saw Sarah waiting for him further down the dock. His eyes were dark and empty. "I think she's really gone Sarah. I can't... I don't want to believe it but there's no answer. I couldn't get a hold of Sammy either. Do you think John killed her to?" Sarah shook her head. "No, he couldn't have. I spoke with Sammy not long before I found you and John in the library. Unless... how long had he been in the libary?" Donnie shook his head, "I don't know. I wasn't paying attention." Sarah offers some hope saying, "She might have heard from Colin about Sylvia and gone off. Or maybe she's down there looking for her..." The two walked away from the water but Donnie paused to look back towards the lake. "No. She couldn't see anything. If she was going to try that it would have been earlier or tomorrow morning. Even then it gets pretty dark towards the bottom." Sarah led him away and towards the road. All the anger had burned off from Donnie during the hours of searching. He was exhausted, scared, confused and vulnerable. He'd sent his dragons home because in some way each was wrapped up in memories of Sylvia. Even standing next to Sarah was painful. "I just want to go home for a little while," he said. Sarah nodded and put her hand on his back in comfort. "Next stop home, Donnie." He wasn't expecting the sudden shove that sent him under the wheels of the late night express. The bus squeals to a halt and Sarah walks over to Donnie's mangled form. A puddle of blood is rapidly growing around him and he can barely move at all. He wheezes blood and looks up at Sarah. "Why? She rolls her eyes at him and says, "Duh. Irony? The girl who saves you from a bus throws you under one?" Donnie's will, already stripped bare from the day surrendered under the raking of Sarah's staff across his chest. She vanished as the bus driver came stumbling out clutching his hands over his mouth, stifling the cry of horror at the sight of the boy. She sat on the edge of the building swinging her feet. Sarah said into her cell phone. "That's it. All done here. I'll catch the red eye and meet you at the airport in a few hours? Great. Love you to." She flipped closed the cell phone and stood up. "Why Sarah?" She turned at the familiar voice and found Colin walking towards her across the room. Bloody and beaten to hell but alive. "Well aren't you just the resourceful one," she says with a touch of wonder. "I guess there was something to what She saw in you after all." "Who are you? Where is Sarah. What have you done?!?" Colin ran towards her but she vanished to appear on another part of the roof. She waggled her finger at Colin and said, "Naughty. I've done exactly what you think but I'm not inclined to go into a villainous monologue as to the reasons why. It needed to be done and it has been accomplished. I'll just have to let you go because I really haven't got the time. No doubt you've got help on the way or already here so... bye. "NO!" Alicia leaped out of the darkness a moment too late. The couldn't find her at the airport but she could have gone to any. None of it made sense to Colin. He was able to contact some of his friends. John, Donnie and Samantha one by one. John and Donnie were truly past on. Their souls in the afterworld. Sammy he found as well. Or at least what was left of her. Her mind had shattered though. What he found lunged for his very soul and he had to flee for his life. Someday he might find a way to fix things. There might be a way to bring back at least a bit of Sammy to the air spirit that screamed for revenge beneath the earth. He met with only a vast and angry darkness on his search for Sylvia. He found Sarah last of all. Mostly because he was so afraid to look. So afraid at what he would find. She was alive but far away and all he could find was a direction. East. He traveled that way but always further east until he stood on the Maine shoreline realizing that it was still pointing East, North-East. As he spoke on the phone with Chris and his mom about booking a flight to England he glanced at the TV. The BBC news was on with a picture of Donald Howell. The phone fell from his hand and he walked across the hotel lobby to the set and turned up the volume. "The body found in the police vehicle was believed to be that of Donald Howell, also known as Emille Vandross, the teenage boy suspected for the crime spree in Chicago last year. His mental powers had been unknown to his family and utilized to manipulate dozens if not hundreds of people without their knowledge. He had been in a Special Maximum Security holding until this morning when he was scheduled to be transferred to Heathrow Airport for a flight back to the United States to face prosecution. During the transfer unknown assailants with metahuman powers attacked the transport, setting the vehicle on fire. The remains of the bodies within were very badly damaged but medical autopsy has revealed that none were Donald Howell. Police now suspect that they never actually took Donald Howell into custody and that the teenager arrested was a plant by the boy. Colin's phone started to ring. He picked it up and the screen read: Logan. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: AlleyCat on August 05, 2009, 04:08:21 PM I saw this scene in a movie and I just couldn't help stealing it. At least I'm willing to give credit to the source. Good Night's Work It was early evening in a Hispanic neighborhood near Humboldt Park, the few lampposts still working just starting to turn on. The blinged-out Hummer rolled to a stop in front of a small bodega. A young hoodlum, gaudily attired in gang colors, hopped out of the vehicle and sauntered into the store, while his equally dangerous-looking friends waited by the car. The old lady behind the counter looked warily at the youth, but was still surprised when, without warning, the punk drew a handgun and pointed it at her. In Spanish, he ordered the woman to hand him the money in the till. Shaking, the woman pulled out an envelope containing the day's take. Brusquely, the hood grabbed the envelope and stuffed it inside his jacket, enjoying the way his victim wilted at the sight of his weapon. Confident that he was in no danger from being accosted, the young criminal strode out of the store, smiling, feeling quite proud of himself. It was a good night's work. His reverie was interrupted as someone barreled into him, spilling the contents of a soda cup down the front of his jacket. "Whut the f**ck? You stupid…" The youth sputtered, wiping ineffectually at his ruined clothes. He looked up to see who'd run into him and saw a young Hispanic girl wearing a pretty dress and dark shades, cringing. She was rather attractive and looked quite fetchingly remorseful. In a halting voice, the girl stammered, "Perdoneme, por favor. No lo vi." ("Please, forgive me. I didn't see you.") The boy peered at the girl and waved his hand in front of her face. Seeing no reaction, he grinned, unwilling to lose the good mood he was in. "Sin problema, ciegita. Dame un besito de perdon." ("No problem, little blind girl. Give me a kiss and I'll forgive you.") He laughed as the girl blushed in embarrassment. He returned to the car, yelling at his friends to stop snickering at his mishap. The group climbed back into the Hummer and sped off. Alicia stood on the sidewalk, watching the car head down the street. She smiled as she adjusted the dark shades she was wearing, then bent down to pick up the cup she'd used to distract the punk and dropped it in a nearby garbage can. Walking into the store, she approached the old woman being consoled by two other employees. Without a word, she drew the envelope full of money from the inside of her coat and handed it back. The storepeople stared wide-eyed for a few seconds, then the lady recovered from her shock and began thanking Alicia effusively. Alicia graciously refused the offer of a reward. The contents of the boy's wallet, which she'd skillfully picked while retrieving the envelope, was enough of a reward for her. Especially since it would provide her with enough information to track this particular gang down and remind them who really owned these streets. With an anticipatory smile, Alicia exited the bodega. It was a good night's work. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: motley on September 25, 2009, 10:31:59 AM Placing this here because I'm vain enough to want it to be archived with the rest of the game, where it belongs. January 4, 2009 The Lucky One - Intro.doc Quote Past She rose from the grasses, a shining thing; in golden armor, bearing a sword held high, with eyes lit in the radiance of the sun. The seraph set the plains afire, fanning the blaze in an expanding circle with her glorious wings… Patrick Brennan mused over the ghostly fragments of his dream while he fumbled for his personal phone and car keys. Inspiring, the surreal imagery clinging to the corners of his mind was reminiscent of one of Laney’s paintings. With a wry smile, he grudgingly admitted appreciation for the girl’s talent. At least, her creations weren’t in the morbidly grotesque style teens often favor. He knew why Laney was on his mind, though. His message was brief, “It’s Brennan. We’re wrapping things up on the Lark case, but I need to talk to you about something else. Give me a call at this number. Thanks.” Snapping the phone shut, he turned the ignition, and the world ended in a flash of burning light, bright as the sun. When the debris was cleared and the victims extracted, it was determined that the eldest child fifteen year old Delaney Brennan was the sole survivor of the bomb attack - and the subject of much speculation by curious witnesses and paramedics. “Hardly a scratch on her.” “Lucky kid.” “Yeah, lucky. Wasn’t Mr. Brennan a cop?” Present Earlier this day, the sixteen year old sat stiffly between her aunt and uncle, during the guidance counselor’s determination of which transfer credits would be accepted and what courses she must complete for graduation. It was her uncle’s stern and graveled voice which raised her from the quiet trance she’d lapsed into while her attention was fixed upon the soothing tones and false smiles of the school representative. He asked why his niece, with her 3.9 GPA and college credits, must attend freshman courses in the middle of her junior year and was given a well-rehearsed answer which provided no real explanation, only vague references to school board requirements. After the helpful orientation tour through a maze of hallways, rows of doors, Laney could not recall a single detail, save the hollow sound of her aunt’s heels striking the newly waxed floors and the horrifically loud squeaking of her own tennis shoes. Humiliated by curious looks from the new faces their small group passed, Laney closed her eyes in relief when she finally slumped into the shadowed back seat of the family sedan, her dark hair a long, untamed curtain to mask her pale features. It was a recent and unattractive new affectation, her aunt noted with a disapproving grimace. “What do you think, Laney? Larger than your old school? At least, you don’t have to wear uniforms. Honey, how about I take you shopping for a new outfit or two? You want to make a good impression on your first days.” The older woman glances at her husband at the wheel, ready to cut short any protest. The wise man said nothing. “That would be great, Jean. Thanks. I’ll be alright. Everyone was very nice.” Very nice. Very normal. Very calm. Calm like the house that morning she was fetching Andy a second bowl of cereal while her mother changed Denny. She casually glanced up and saw the hall flood with fiery brilliance. Andy’s screams she could not hear over the sudden and thunderous sound. She felt them shaking her chest when she pulled her brother close and dove towards the porch door. Then the sharp pain in the center of her skull and the clarity of vision, as if she were watching - no, directing - the siblings shoved violently outside by the hot force of an explosion. It was the only way. They were safe. She had made them safe. As the pain overtook her and pulled her into a senseless, black place, Laney released her hold on Andy. Her brother’s unconscious form rolled away from her lax arm and folded over remnants of their home: tiles, sheetrock, and glass, which silently sliced through the boy’s cheek and then his vein as his weight gently settled. A strange association. Laney’s therapist warned her about these moments - months of counsel the girl was only beginning to appreciate, now that their mandated meetings were completed. She resolved to postpone crying until tonight, and then it would be alright. While not exactly what she was instructed to do, Laney found her way more efficient. Her relatives were well-intentioned, and she found no fault in their fair treatment of her. Even the younger cousins were excited about their new guest, their enthusiasm infectious. Distanced as Laney was from the ongoing investigation, the relentless calls from reporters, the stares… Yes, she’ll be alright. Besides, wasn’t she the lucky one? Notes This is a quick and dirty write-up to give you a view of Delaney Brennan. Details intentionally absent for easy adaptation. Others intentionally included, giving a personality profile. I can provide much more. It’s a simple character with a simple background. I was originally using this as a background for Laney in the project we’re discussing in MeanStreets. She would be much older, jaded, with a background in law enforcement and a few colorful contacts (other characters I had in mind. I’ll be typing them up next). Her ability serving her well in online research; as the odds of finding a proverbial “needle in a haystack” are skewed in her favor. That’s how I envisioned her power being used, although it could work well in combat if she were trained. But a younger version of Laney is an offering for your PBP. I would need a training course on the rules to spare you from having me send each of my posts to you for review before public posting (which, I probably would do at first) What I’ve read so far is vague. This character may not fit at all or you may not want me involved - and that’s alright. This type of power is a pain in the ass; I personally wouldn’t allow it. I’m having fun reading old posts on your forums. :} I haven’t come across a character with Laney’s ability, yet. The power? When she pushes, the odds stack in Laney’s favor. Payback’s a bitch. The higher the percentage she beats, the worse for her. A day when Laney is not sporting bandages, casts, or bruises is rare. Thus, this ability is entirely in control of the GM: if it works and what the “side effect” is. When is also in the GM’s control. I think it should be within the hour, but for dramatic effect could be delayed. Lesser incidents I can handle if the GM prefers. Laney’s not a genius; using her power to pick the right answer on a history test might earn her an embarrassing tumble over her shoelaces in the hallway and a bloody lip. That sort of thing. It needn’t be physical bad luck. She may have inexplicably lost paperwork, spills, bad hair days, etc. No, I don’t want her to be a constantly tragic character vying for sympathetic attention with her perpetually unfortunate injuries. It was meant for humorous element. She may actually not be powerful enough in this first design. I can either add another power or adjust the bad/good luck ratio. And, yes, I’m babbling. Sorry for the length of this document. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: motley on September 25, 2009, 10:38:26 AM Here's the other: Quote from: motley on April 01, 2009, 10:03:22 PM If it weren’t for the fact that this is Colin’s birthday, it might be any day of the week, as casually as Laney hands him the “gift.” Nothing in her demeanor relays any sense that it is a gift at all. There is no ceremony, no well wishes. When she looked into her purse and saw it, she could not look away; Colin’s voice and the thin battered feather inextricably merged into a pattern. It’s as if she’s recovered something he’d dropped and was merely handing it back to him. The mottled white pigeon feather isn’t in good condition, lying as it had been on the very bottom of Laney’s purse for a week. A week ago Saturday it was given to her for luck by her four year old cousin. This is what she was told. It carried love, pure and unconditional. He found this feather in the summer grass. He thrust it into his box of treasure for future use. A wondrous box full of the kinds of things children collect, things coaxed from the earth or discovered in secret places where adults can’t reach. The box carried all the thrill of mysteries. It also carried a marble. It was a black marble, larger than most and notched where it struck a surface too hard for the glass. The boy was given this marble by his older cousin, in the late summer when she felt her heart was the marble itself, gouged and ruined. He thought it dull, but then she showed him magic through this imperfect sphere. So he would not throw it away like she was willing to do. He saw the sun splintered into a thousand fragments of light. He turned the marble slowly, and before his eyes the fragments bled together into shapes and colors like he’d never seen before. It was Laney herself who created the kaleidoscope and thought to share it with him. In the garage she was looking for a tool, and there, underfoot, was the marble glinting in a single beam of sunlight through a side window. Before she reached down to pick up her discovery, she stepped into the sun. In this dismal, closed part of a strange house in a foreign place, the sun was familiar and comforting. It was enough light to sprout a bold blade of grass through a crack in the garage floor, beside which the marble hid for who knows how long. Even in this cold place of concrete and steel life prevailed, resilient and hopeful. But not alone. Years of dust settled within this crevice, things discarded and unappreciated. A supportive collection of unlikely debris; a foundation for growth. Where there was tucked the spongy remnants of a down feather. It was no longer recognizable as the soft bit of fluff it once was, but it served a purpose now, knitting the elements together. It was snug beneath the warm wing of a song sparrow. The skyline became a blur of silver and gold as the small bird followed the wind, soaring higher and higher… …and like many things she does and many thoughts she has, Laney gives Colin a pigeon feather without knowing why. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: opensesame on September 27, 2009, 01:29:39 PM Message From A Distant Shore First day of Spring Break of Senior Year Colin Crow finds a message in a bottle sitting on the night stand of his bedroom. It's written in Sarah's hand on a material that looks a lot like paper but seems sturdier. As he starts to read, pictures of Sarah and the whole gang slowly drift across the page. -Goodbye. Since halfway through sophomore year I've been holding back from you and everyone. Not letting you get too close. Not telling you everything that's been going on in my life. I know you've sensed that and felt hurt by it. You still loved me and held me whenever you could. You gave everything to me and asked for nothing in return. You are proof that the world is in good hands. When I disappeared from time to time you all thought it was my depression. You were all supportive and kind and I appreciated your words. I was sad from time to time but I didn't leave because of that. I was working for the Ahn'Zhanti. I've been sad because I knew this day was coming. My gifts have increased exponentially in the past three years. Being anyplace on Earth is like standing still now. I've played it down because I didn't want anyone to freak. I always gave just enough to help save the day. A little more sometimes. I know Sylvia wondered from time to time. She's too smart to lie to. She could have stepped into my head anytime she liked and found out the truth but she didn't. Give her a hug for me for that. The truth is that I can travel to the stars Colin. I've crossed the nothing and stepped onto other planets. Those odd seashells I gave you that you never could quite identify? They are from a beach on a planet that orbits a star that isn't visible to Earth, lost amidst a cluster of clouds and brighter stars in it's system. The truth is I've been living a lie with you and all my friends. The only one who knew anything is ... something else I never talked about. There are two of me... or there were. Back in Freshman year we had a problem with dimension hoppers. One of them was me. Dave knows about her. She went to stay with Megan in London for a while. Her powers grew as well but in a different way. She can teleport but her abilities with staff and mind alteration are the strong ones. If you ever need help with a mental clean up give her a call. Smith knows her now. You can't make that big a ripple in the mind pond without another big fish coming to check it out. Huh...Sylvia probably knows because of that. That girl really does play her cards close to her chest. Brat. I've included her number. Give her a call anyway. She had to say goodbye to her Colin a long time ago. Tell Donnie I said to be cool. Tell Rob and Greg that I still think they're dorks but the best and most amazing dorks in the world. Give Alicia a big hug for me. She never lets anyone help carry her baggage and she doesn't put any of it down. Doesn't mean she still isn't strong as hell. Just hope she figures it out someday. If you can find Sammy punch her in the arm for me and tell her I said knock it off. Dave knows. Dave knows everything on some days. Ha. See if he knows what I left for him at his apartment. I'd say goodbye to Laney but I just got a message from her ... it's complicated and I'm not sure I can explain and you can't tell her because she hasn't sent it yet. Totally Laney huh? Sylvia... She's too smart for her own good. She's opinionated. Rude. Exasperating. Intimidating. If she hadn't gotten so good with her mental shields I think I'd have died of embarrassment by junior year. I kind of had a crush on her for a little while. I hope that doesn't make you feel weird or anything. Um.. tell her.. y'know I think I'll have to get back to her a little later? I'll try and drop in from time to time but I don't want to bring too much attention to Earth. There are people out there that can track teleports. Some good and some not. If the bad ones noticed a regular route to Earth they'd come looking and that's trouble that the planet doesn't need. Trouble I wouldn't wish on you guys. I'll write. Send pictures. As for you Colin Crow, I want you to be happy. You can walk away anytime you want. Remember that and only do it as long as it makes you feel good. The world will keep working. You can make the world better without doing all this super hero stuff. You could be a teacher or a healer. I know you Colin. You could make the world a better place running a hot dog cart or working a paper route. Just walking down the street you make things better. Keep yourself well and the rest will be okay. Love, Always and Everywhere - The words fade and the pictures vanish one by one. At the end all that is left is the tattoo design that Colin himself had given to Sarah. The henna mixed with his own blood that never faded or grew weak. A tattoo that Colin never realized was far more powerful than he ever intended. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: Doc on September 27, 2009, 06:54:43 PM The old letter Sarah finds hidden among the few things she took with her when leaving the planet. Dear wondergirl, happy birthday. If things go as planned you'll be far away when you find this. It's a big if, considering I'm asking Laney to use her powers in a way she's never considered, but something tells me the universe likes this kind of things, and that it's gonna find its way to you. I said happy birthday. I'm writing this letter on your seventeenth birthday. It's very late. The gang threw a huge party for you, and everyone had so much fun we all nearly passed out from too much laughing. I thought Donnie would die for sure, for instance, 'cause of all the punch that went through his nose. I'm sure you remember it. Well, I got home, and somehow I heard that Rose was awake before Chris or mom did, so here I am now, cuddling her with an arm and writing with the other. But I say happy birthday also because when you'll read this, it'll be a different kind of birthday for you. It'll be the time you'll take your ticket to the stars. To where you're meant to be. "God and Great Spirit!" (Yeah, I know you'd say something different, but I try to keep my writing expletives-free). "Colin knew all the time!" Not exactly. I don't really know things, you know. But I get some glimpse, every now and then, even when I try to look away. On the roof, the day I thought, for those horrible seconds, that you were dead, I could see nearly everything. Donnie called them the Threads of Fate (you know how he talks, and when you can really hear the capital letters in what he says). If I had but looked at you that way, I could have known if we were going to stay together, to marry, to have children, to die, anything. I chose not to. And I don't regret it. Surely, at the time, I wouldn't have understood what it really meant. And I had more than a little penchant for drama, back then, that I'm sure wouldn't have helped either. I got a feeling though, while holding you. I felt like I could fly among the stars. (http://www.groovygamers.com/forum/index.php/topic,4171.msg125830.html#msg125830) With time, I realized it came from you, from your future. From what you were meant to be. That's why I can't be angry at you. Even though you never told me, and you'll likely never told me. We've been keeping hard poker faces, and danced around this elephant so many times, it's almost become a game. I never called you on it, because I didn't want to worry about the future, or make you worry about the future. In every moment in time I had you with me, that was more than enough to me. So, now that this secret is out of the way, there's something else you should know. I never gave you the full explanation (http://www.groovygamers.com/forum/index.php/topic,7116.msg238100.html#msg238100). The turtle is for protection, but also she carries her home with her, wherever she goes. Wondergirl, I don't know if there's going to be a place you'll call home. I do want you to feel home wherever you go. And I'd like for you to remember, and carry with you, this place, that has been your home for a while. The lioness is for strength. Strength non for itself, but for the sake of the pride. And to protect her cub. I know you go away because people need you out there. They need someone to protect and defend them. Like you protected and defended us. With you, they're in good hands. The cub stand for playfulness. Or better, for learning by playing. For growing up and becoming more. Because we're never done growing. And because sometimes, you'll have to say your goodbyes and leave again. The cub is that playful, ever happy part of you that I love so much, so that you might never lose it. When in doubt, Sarah, always start fresh with a smile and play your game. The star is for direction. For finding out one's true way, and not losing it even in the darkness. The stars will always be your friends. Out there, among them, you'll never get lost. They promised me as much. And the phoenix, more than anything, is you. She's for rising brighter after a fall. Always. Today you are born again, and begin a new life. One of many. It's the strength to leave and begin anew. It's a fire that never dies, and will keep you warm even in the cold cold space. Let me say it one more time: happy birthday. Rose is asleep now, and I'm really tired too. I know I'll see you tomorrow. But after you'll read this letter, I don't know if we'll ever meet again. I know that every time I'll look up to the sky, the stars will be brighter. You will make them brighter for me. I cannot claim you. You're not mine. And I wouldn't want you to be mine, and less than you could be. Fly free, and find joy and love and happiness wherever you go. I'll never forget you, and that is my treasure. A part of me will always be on the roof of the library, looking at that sunset, and will always love you. Forever. Goodbye, wondergirl. Happy birthday. Title: Re: Out of Frame - Flavor text and short character fiction. Post by: BaboonBill on September 28, 2009, 01:00:05 PM Hunting Grounds The man raged, shaking back and forth and thrashing on the ground before them. Three pairs of eyes, not a single set completely human, stared pitilessly down at him as he tried to talk from behind the gag. His arms and legs were zip-tied expertly, and he was hogtied, making escape a virtual impossibility. One of the figures crouched down before him, a black-gloved hand reaching out, deadly sharp claws pushing through the leather at the end of each fingertip. The man froze as the figure, plainly female, ran a single sharp nail across his cheek, pausing as if it were deciding whether to plunge it into the soft eye or not. Her eerie cat-like eyes narrowed. The claw flashed downward, slicing through the gag and part of his cheek. "murr-GAH!" he cried, as the strip of dirty cloth came free. The figure stood up and backed away, pale and shaking with disgust and fury in equal amounts, her fists clenched tightly enough to crack her knuckles. "You have no FUCKING idea how much trouble you’re in, you little shits!" The second figure chopped downward with a sword that wasn’t there a moment ago, runes glowing hot crimson in the black night. It buried itself half a foot into the loam of the ground, softened by years of leaves and active moles. The place was chosen carefully for that very reason. Thunder echoed in the clear night. The man snapped his mouth shut as the blade quivered inches from his nose. The second figure, hand resting gently on the leather wrapped handle, crouched down, inhuman green eyes glowing in time with the runes on the sword. A heartbeat slow and steady. "The same could be said for you, Officer Haggerty." The trussed up man glowered, saying "Look kid, you have about ten seconds to untie me before..." He didn’t finish, because the third set of eyes appeared above him, and there was a dangerous and sibilant hissssss of warning. The young man spoke, voice quavering with emotion. "These were our woods. We don't own them, anymore than the hundreds of other kids that have played in these woods for years. But for the last four years, these woods have been ours. Nearly every Saturday morning for the last four years we have stalked this place, playing, learning, teaching and being taught. Kids call these the Dragon Woods, and for good reason. They knew not to come here on Saturday mornings, but by noon it was theirs again. It became noisy with the sounds of paintball guns, adolescent cursing, and cheering as they played soldier. "You knew this. You watched from your unmarked squad car in the parking lot of the school or down the street. Every Saturday they were here, and so were you. Watching, waiting, planning." The dragon above hissed again and acidic spittle dripped on his cheek and collar. His cheek immediately went numb, and his collar unraveled and melted as the spots grew. "We know, Officer Haggerty. I have a friend, a very dear friend who looked into your sick mind and began vomiting uncontrollably. She said curse words I didn’t even know she could utter, and cried for hours afterward. She saw into that cesspool of your head, and saw all the names." He pulled out a small spiral bound notebook and began reading. "Andrew Zimmer, age 11, went missing walking home from school in April of 1989. Hunter Gibson, disappeared off the playground two years later over in Gary, Indiana. Fredrick James never made it over to his friend's house in the late afternoon of August 1993. Seven more gone since then, including Jose Chavez, age 12, who never made it home from his paintball game last Saturday. Which brings us to now." He stood up, drawing the sword from the ground. Officer Haggerty panted in a sudden spurt of fear, and he saw both the woman and the man in front of him breathe it in, as if drawing out the taste of his fear. Urine stained his pants. "He's buried five feet behind you, Officer. Sunk deep and covered in dirt and leaves. Where you buried him, probably on Wednesday or Thursday. He wasn't here Wednesday morning, because we came looking, because that's what we do. When we came back on Saturday morning, my friend here knew something was wrong and it didn't take us long to find him, despite your efforts." "I-I don't know what y-you're talking abou-EEEEEEE-aughglglgl..." The small dragon hopped back up the tree, chewing the earlobe he had just viciously snipped off. Officer Haggerty spasmed as the dragonette’s poison slithered through his veins, paralyzing him. His eyes showed white as he shook. The woman spoke, hands and claws clenching and unclenching. "You're fucked beyond repair, puñeta. She saw that in your head. You cover your tracks too well. You hunt in multiple areas, and hide your victims in different places. There's nothing to connect you. You just made one mistake. You came here, you sick fuck." The man, resting his sword on his shoulder, turned to the young woman. "You don't have to stay for this. The dragons will take care of it." "You shitting me, Lagartijo?" The girl snapped. "Hell, I'm barely holding back from doing the job myself. You staying to watch, aren't you?" "Yes." She glided over to rest her hand on his shoulder and spoke softly, "So why would I bail? We found him together; what happens next is as much on me as you." The young man, seeming to deflate a bit, leaned in and rested his forehead against hers and they closed their eyes for a moment. "I wish this didn't stain our times here, but it will never be the same, will it?" With a shared sigh they turned back to the child-murderer. "Let's take him down to the creek." Later that night, the police received nine simultaneous electronically generated phone calls, each stating the name of a missing adolescent boy and where he would be found. No one plays paintball in those woods since the body of the missing boy was found, and there was never again a dragon seen hunting squirrels on a Saturday morning. Powered by SMF 1.1.4 | SMF © 2006-2007, Simple Machines LLC