Today's Messages (OFF)
| Unanswered Messages (ON)
| Forum: Whateley Academy News |
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| Topic: Some Kimba news. |
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| Some Kimba news. [message #3448] |
Wed, 14 September 2005 18:40 |
 OtherEric
Messages: 234
Registered: January 2005
Location: Pacific Northwest |
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Not, however, Team Kimba news...
http://www.icv2.com/articles/home/7505.html
Can anybody give me any info on how the show is? The price is a bit off-putting for a blind purchace; but I'm genuinely curious.
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| | Topic: Hive 1 down for a bit |
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| Hive 1 down for a bit [message #1148] |
Tue, 29 March 2005 17:16 |
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Warren
Messages: 1556
Registered: January 2005
Location: Wet wonderful Washington |
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too many formatting errors and operator headspace on my part posting it. So Bob is going to fix it up.
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| | Topic: Submissions temporarily closed. |
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| Submissions temporarily closed. [message #39] |
Thu, 13 January 2005 00:08 |
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Maggie_Finson
Messages: 526
Registered: January 2005
Location: somewhere in Kansas |
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Whateley Universe Temporarily Closed to New Submissions
Hi everyone and before there is a big yell, or whatever, as the title shows, this is temporary measure only. I've received a flood of submissions since the New Year and to be honest, we, the autors need a bit of time to assimilate all the new stuff and characters we've been given. Bear with us (and me) here since this will aid in maintaining continuity in the universe, get the new people settled in and comfortable with the way we work, and get all of us grounded on the newer developments (and expansions) on the existing universe. Also, this will help us maintain the quality of the stories we throw at all of you with such stunning regularity.
To those of you who have sent in submissions and as of yet not heard back, be patient with me please, I'm working through them and will get responses to all of you. The the ones who are currently working on corrections, rewrites, or whatever in response to our requests, keep doing those, your submissions have already been received and duly noted.
Also, those who have new characters/stories ready, do use the Fan Fic area to post them. That way we'll still see them, I promise you, and discuss them between us. Plus doing things that way, you get the story posted, the comments from doing that, and the notice that your story deserves.
In closing here, I want to thank each and everyone of you who have submitted stories, commented, or otherwise made Whateley into the success it appears to be here. I will be posting a notice of when we are accepting new submissions, and it shouldn't be that long, really. Just need a bit of breathing space here is all.
Thank you all, once again.
Maggie Finson
aka Nikki
aka Fey
I AM the goddess of Chaos! Worship me! Just don't expect the results you wanted. 
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| | Forum: Authors Corner |
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| Topic: Help with a story |
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| Help with a story [message #60827] |
Sun, 01 July 2012 12:50 |
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E. E. Nalley
Messages: 603
Registered: July 2005
Location: Atlanta, GA |
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I'd like to get some feed back on a story that I'm going to attempt to sell to some of the Furry publishers out there. As it is of an erotic nature and because it's furry and has nothing to do with Whateley, I won't be posting it here, however if you're not offended by that, (and especially if you're female as it's also meant to be romantic) I could use some feedback. Either PM me, or send me an email at the address in my profile and I'll shoot you a copy. It also has no TG Content, so bear that in mind.
I do have to ask you not post it, obviously, and keep the commentary positive. You this kind of thing offends you, I'm sorry, but please don't volunteer just so you can tell me I shouldn't be writing this kind of stuff. 
I have a pretty tough skin so while all comments are welcome I'm most interested in plot and characterization notes. IE:
Did you find the story romantic?
Where the characters believable and people you could identify with?
Was the dialogue realistic and furthering of the plot?
Would you like to see more of these characters?
I appreciate the help in advance!
Be a dreamer who DOES, not a dreamer who dreams!
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| | Topic: What's Up, Dork? |
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| What's Up, Dork? [message #52210] |
Sun, 22 January 2012 14:25 |
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BekDCorvin
Messages: 933
Registered: August 2005
Location: State of Confusion |
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What's Up, Dork?
A Whateley story
by Bek. D. Corbin
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Whateley Academy
Combat Finals, Arena '99
"Well, Greasy, another combat final, another reason to despair for mutantkind. If those two yoyos are our only defense against Aitch-One, then we are in DEEP doo-doo."
"Well, unfortunately, Peep, the instructors agree with you. A matching pair of Ds. If those two don't wanna repeat the year, they're gonna have to ace their exams next week. Still, they didn't do THAT badly."
"YES THEY DID! NO explosions, NO mass destruction, NO Ants flying apart in pieces, NO bustups, No NADA! They didn't even take the spindle, they just kept flapping around until the time ran out! The only reason they didn't both just FAIL, was that wussoid 'avoiding civilian casualties' ruling. And since they were both GUYS, the only 'equipment failures' involved actual equipment! <low groan> Cheer me up, Oil-Slick Face. At least tell me that our next matchup is between a pair of big, bouncy, babe-o-licious repressed lesbian exemplar chicks in bikinis."
"Well, the announcement is that the next in the lineup are... Foxfire and OMAG."
"OMAG? You mean that big Scotch lox who hangs with Horrorshow and the other Losers? The one who split himself into sixteen copies to form a human water fountain back in October? The one who was the main ammunition in the 'Catapult Basketball League' back in September? The one who panty-raided Dickinmouth Cottage- AND DIDN'T COME BACK WITH ANYTHING?"
"Ah, yeah. And it's not 'Scotch', Peeper. Scotch is a whiskey. A person from Scotland is a Scot, and he's Scots, not Scottish or Scotch."
"I don't care, Canadians don't care, ANZACs don't care, the English don't care, the Irish don't care, and even the freakin' WELSH don't care. Campers, in case you've been lucky enough to avoid them, OMAG is a core member of that crack squad of complete Luuuhhh-ZHERZ that infest Emerson Cottage, killing time and brain cells with bozo stunts that they stole from 'Jackass the Handgame', jacked up with mutant powers. Campers, you know me, Joe 'Laissez les bons temps rouler', I LOVE a good piece of wackiness. But Horrorshow's latest effort? People, they DESTROYED Wizard's animatronic duplicate of Majestic! Before she even had a chance to know LOVE!"
"Ah, Peep, I don't think Majestic KNEW about that android? Like, before you mentioned it?"
"HEY, if _I_ think these guys need to have their braincases checked, what does that SAY? Oh, and Pizza-Face? For the sake of my aching sanity, what the HE- ah, HECK is an 'OMAG'?"
"Well, I did ask him, and after they fixed my teeth, I managed to find out that OMAG originally wanted to be called 'OMAC'."
"Wonderful. Dubble-Yew-Tee-Eef is an 'OMAC'?"
"Well, 'OMAC' was an old Jack Kirby character whose name is an acronym for 'One Man Army Corps'. Apparently he heard about it, and since his main trait is that he's a 'Multiplier' Warper, he thought that would be a good handle."
"But it was copyrighted already. What a Loser. And what does 'OMAG' mean?"
"One Man Army Group."
"Amazing. It actually got worse. Okay, and is Foxfire a chick?"
"Let's see... Yep! She's a pretty vanilla Wizard, with quote 'a specialization in Wizardry', whatever that is."
"I don't place the handle. You got anything on this Foxfire chick, Greaso?"
"All that I have is that she's listed with the Literary Club."
"Meh. Lit Chick. Well, maybe OMAG will do something amusingly dumb. At least he's good for THAT."
*****
Runestrong looked up at the display, and said, "Hey, Sandy. They're paging you. You're next."
Alexander 'Sandy' 'OMAG' Petrie cut off the Wi-Fi game that he'd been playing with Unbreakable, and got to his feet. He pulled the tactical vest that he'd let lie on the ground at his feet on over his cammie t-shirt, and then put the red tam-o-shanter with the white pom-pom on his head. The rest of his outfit was just as militaristic: olive drab pants, combat boots, and a loaded utility belt. All in all, he only lacked a bristling red beard to be an action movie image of a Scots Special Ops soldier, ready and eager to kick some. His friends gave him a few words of encouragement, and he headed out.
"Hey, OMAG!" Breaker of the Grunts called out, from where he was sitting with Mule and Slapdash, "What's your Base Tactical Layout for your Staging Point gonna be?"
"Oh, I was thinkin' a wide-screen HDTV, a sofa, a shag rug, maybe a few throw pillows..." OMAG said with a grin.
Breaker scowled, "You're just going to go in there and mix it up, just like you did when you were trying to rush the Grunts, aren't you?"
"And why not? I ran rings around you chumps in those circle-jerk exercises that you put me through."
"That's not how I remember it."
"Of course not! Yer pewny mind can't handle how badly I made a fewl a' yew!" OMAG said in a bad 'Music Hall' highlander accent.
"Look," Breaker said in the tone of the upperclassman trying to talk sensibly to an underclassman, "you can't just go in and goof around, especially with your power."
"Oh? That's how your Army went into Iraq!"
"Look, a Command-level cock-up doesn't mean that you don't need discipline and planning at the Tactical level. If anything, you need more discipline and sound thinking when the Brass pulls a boner. Your problem is that you let your powers bail you out of the brain-damaged crap that Horrorshow talks you and the rest of those Losers into, so it never sinks in that what you're doing is STUPID!"
"Hey, Horrorshow and the guys know how to have a good time. Y'know, 'a good time'? It's something that you brown-nosed GI Joe wannabes wouldn't know anything about. Your idea of down time is looking at all the rounds in your magazines and filing them ALL down to the exact proper length specified in the regs and trim the frays off your aglets and all that fucking tedious bullshit!"
"LOOK, we are training to be soldiers, not video game characters! Proper Prep Pays! Hey, you and the Losers almost KILL yourself each time that you pull one of your stunts, and you don't have people shooting at you!"
"Hey, we're NOT losers-"
"Loser, Loser, Loser!" Slapdash chided, making the 'L for Loser' sign with a finger on his forehead.
OMAG almost went for the bait but held back. "Tell you WHAT," he hissed through his teeth. "I am gonna go and show the school what a real warrior can do. I'll bet you that I'm gonna get an 'A' for how bad I whup that little bint. If I win, all you junior root-heads will show up at the Crystal Hall t'night at dinner in parade dress uniform and tell all assembled what great guys Me, an' Horrorshow and the guys are, and never call us Losers AGAIN."
"And if you DON'T get an 'A'?"
"Then I'll act as a human target for one of yer paintball exercises in the maze."
"Tell you what," Mule said. "If you get a 'B' it's a draw, but if you get a 'C' or below, then you have to be target practice once for each grade below 'A' that you get."
"Yer ON, Donkey-boy!" he stuck out a hand, and Breaker shook on it. "And I'm gonna want a personal salute from all'a you SUCKERS!" OMAG called out over his shoulder as he strode off, making the 'L for Loser' sign back at them.
But once he got to the unobserved corridor, Horrorshow, with Runestrong in tow as usual, hurried up. "Hold up, OMAG!" Horrorshow said. "Look, I didn't want to give this to you before but," Horrorshow looked around cautiously. He held up an ear bud. "I got a Bluetooth that's linked to this. You're going to need a good grade on this one, if you don't wanna be held back a year. So, me and the boys will give you a little Tac- Ops support, very on the down-low, right?"
"Why?" Sandy asked, looking at the earbud, and then tucking it in a pocket. "It's just a girl. She's not even a brick or anything, just a witch." Sandy was known as a bit of a hardass, so his offhanded dismissal of mages was sort of expected, even by Horrorshow and Runestrong (both mages). "If anything, I'll have to watch it, so's I don't hurt her too much when I pop her."
"That may be easier said than done," Runestrong said. "I know her from a few of her classes. She's very good with illusions and evasion. And she has a fox familiar, which means that she thinks that she's clever and subtle."
"Oh good," OMAG said with just a touch more of his Glaswegian accent than he normally let through. "Then she's stupid. Most of the people who make a big noise on how clever they are, are totally thick. If anything, this is my chance to really put on a show!" With a cocky grin, OMAG strutted off to Arena 99's entry gate.
Horrorshow and Runestrong looked at each other. "He's gonna need all the help we can give him," Horrorshow said matter-of-factly.
"Oh... Yeah..." Runestrong agreed with a drawl. They returned to their friends in the stands.
*****
Elaine 'Loophole' Nalley craned her head forward and asked, "Is it just me, or are the 'mock buildings' that they're putting up a lot more... substantial?"
"It's just you," the rest of the Lit Chix reflexively said in unison.
"Actually, she's right." Heather 'Selkie' O'Malley said, looking at the reconstruction crew at work. "They're bringing in entire modules, not just facades."
"I guess that they don't want the later matches using ideas that they got from the earlier matches," Simone 'Arachne' Bender said as she looked up from her sketch pad.
"They're just escalating the violence," 'Doc' Nalley said with a grump.
"Yeah, yeah, we heard this when YOU went through the wringer," Renae 'Reverb' Griest said.
"Still, you have to give them credit," Maggie 'Lifeline' Vincent said. "From wreckage to reasonable facsimile in five minutes. They even swept up the debris."
"Yeah, let's have a big hand for the 'Ant' robots, who'll probably get trashed in the next scenario," Becky 'Foxfire' Corbin snarked.
"Hold on, here's the next victim," Barbara 'Babs' 'Compiler' Yunkle said, peering at the large screen. "It's OMAG."
"OMAG?" Heather asked, confused. "Have I met him?"
"Not if you're lucky," Simone said dryly. "He's a frosh who's hooked up with a bunch of Sophs in Emerson, and they're doing the 'Jackass' thing. He's a Multiplier, he's big and he's tough."
Lifeline looked very uncomfortable.
"Well, at least it should be amusing to watch," Foxfire said. "A lot more fun to watch than be in the middle of. I wonder what poor loser they're going to... aaawww... NUTS! Why ME?" Becky snarled as her name was called and her MID started to display on the screen.
"Justice?" Renae said puckishly.
"Okay, okay, Mags, are my spell slips grammatically correct?" Rebecca 'Foxfire' Corbin asked her friend as they clipped rapidly toward the entry gate.
Maggie 'Lifeline' Vincent looked over the spells slips and said, "Yes, they're okay. But should you be taking magic gear into the crash with you? You're supposed to only have with you the stuff that you'd normally be carrying."
"And I normally carry protective amulets and bozo-avoidance talismans, and I usually have a few spell slips on me, just in case!" Bekky insisted. "Have you seen some of the whackos they have walking around free in this place? I just want to be sure that that batch is kosher." Then Bekky noticed something about Lifeline. "ah, Mags? You okay? You look like you stepped in something and haven't had a chance to scrape it off yet."
Maggie looked quite distressed. "uhm... last week... he, ah, tried to hit on me. He wasn't... uhm... exactly what you'd call 'gallant' about how he did it. He got me in a corner. All six of him. And he was pretty free with his suggestions... and his hands..."
The Lit Chix suddenly lost all their flippancy and went deadly serious, even the usually diffident Heather looked like she was ready to play hurley with OMAG's head. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Arachne, her six extra spider eyes showing in her threat display.
"NO!" Maggie blurted, "I don't think he was going to go that far, he was just... well... forward... and grabby..."
"Even so, that bad boy needs a good spankin'," 'Loophole' Nalley snarled.
"Get in line," Bekky said sternly, "I've already got a date to kick that shit head out of his ass." But then she faltered, "So, ah... exactly how powerful IS this guy?"
"What's the matter, Bekky?" 'Loophole' sniped, "Nervous?"
"As a matter of fact, YES! I have very closely held religious convictions regarding human suffering especially MINE! C'mon, what's the info on this 'OMAG' guy?"
"He's a 'Multiple Man' type warper," said someone who was not a member of the 'Lit Chix'. "He can split himself into up sixteen copies of himself and coordinate between them, operating as a perfectly synchronized team when he can concentrate. His base unit is definitely tougher and stronger than baseline, but not superhuman. His warping also gives him a measure of protection, so he's pretty hard to hurt. Even then he tends to share out the owwies among his units."
The Lit Chix turned to see a petite girl with short blonde hair standing a bit away from them. She was wearing olive drab and an amused expression. "Hello, Bunker," Loophole said. "Tell me, isn't OMAG one of yours?"
"Oh, he started out rushing the Grunts," Bunker said with a wry smile. "You'd have to be dense not to see the tactical advantages in his power. Power, he's got. Guts, he's got. Attitude, he's got. Brains and discipline? Not a lick."
"Why are you telling ME this?" Bekky asked suspiciously.
"Well, OMAG has something of an ego, and a bit of a problem with authority, and his language when he was leaving the Grunts was less than respectful. And, like the young lady said, he's got a lot of grabby hands. Now, I'm not offering any deals, you understand, but there are certain persons who'd be rather obliged if the One Man Army Group got whittled down to size."
"One Man Army Group? Is that what OMAG stands for?"
"Yeah, just like that."
"Oh well, nuthin' left to it, but to do it," Bekky sighed and she trudged over to the 'gladiators' entrance' and signed in. She walked over to her circle and looked over at OMAG in his circle. OMAG returned her cool gaze with the smirk that the class bully gives the wimp that he's about to kick around the playground.
"Okay," the moderator said clinically, "the modules for this one are solid, and there are stairs and like that, but no real rooms. You can go inside the modules, but if either of you hide inside any of them for more than sixty seconds, you default to the other guy, and get a D. Remember, the Ants are civilians; if you damage them, you get dinged on your grade. The Ants with the Red Bands are Police, Firefighters, Paramedics, and like that; if you damage them, you get dinged ten times as bad. Do you both understand?"
Foxfire and OMAG both nodded, and the moderator started to leave the area as the countdown started.
"Five... Four... Three... Two... ONE... GO!" blared the loudspeaker.
*****
"Well, they're both going for the 'Costume Change' extra credit."
"Oh, gimme a break! A bandana mask? That lox expects extra credit for a bandana mask?"
"Well it IS in his clan tartan, Peep..."
"BULL! I heard from Bannockburn that that 'clan tartan' bit is just something that some Victorian bozo came up with, back in the 19th Century! Real old-time Scotties didn't HAVE clan tartans! They couldn't afford any of that custom tartan crap!"
"Well, at least Foxfire has a legitimate costume: hooded cape, thigh-high boots, opera gloves, loose skirt bound by a leather girdle, all in various shades of blue, and a fox-headed staff that came out of nowhere."
*****
"HEY! OMAG!" Foxfire snapped, "Get over here!" she assumed a 'severe mother about to scold an unruly child' posture.
OMAG paused, did the 'you talking to ME?' pose, and then ambled over curiously to see what the little bitch wanted. He loomed a good seven inches over her, and he physically overshadowed her with his brawny bulk. Not that that seemed to register with the scowl that showed through Foxfire's mask. "So? Whad d'yew want, Four-Eyes?"
*****
I don't believe this," Peeper groaned, "they're having a conference! What have the Combat Finals come to? What's next? Tea and scones?"
"Actually, Peep, it looks more like they're having an argument."
*****
"What did you do to Lifeline?" Foxfire demanded snappishly.
"Lifeline?" even through the kerchief mask, OMAG's confusion was apparent. Then the penny dropped. "Oh! Lifeline..." he drawled salaciously. "Oh, she's been talking about me, has she?" he smirked, "and you wanted to see what all the fuss was about, didn't you?"
"Oh, Barf..." Bekky choked, "Listen up, you-"
"Why should I listen? Yer not sayin' anything that anyone wants t'hear. But yer not THAT bad lookin'-"
"WHAT?"
"But you'd look better without the specs." OMAG snatched the glasses that were perched on top of her mask and tossed them over his shoulder.
"HEY!" Bekky yelped, "those are expensive!" Bekky used her magic to catch the glasses on the fly and levitate them back to her.
"So? Get contacts. See? Much better..." Suddenly Bekky was surrounded by OMAG and his replica-units. And their hands, which were taking rather drastic liberties with her body.
"Hey, hey, HEY!" Bekky shouted, as she erupted in pale blue foxfire, "Watch the HANDS!"
OMAG jumped back, but he wasn't beaten by a long shot. One of the units threw OMAG-Prime something and he smirked, "Now, is that any way for you to act?" He held up Slyboots, Bekky's familiar, who had been riding her shoulder, by the scruff of the neck. Boots made a whimper and struggled in his grasp, but couldn't escape his grip.
"HEY! Leave her alone, you haggis-breathed halfwit!"
"Nah-Ah! You bring her inta the arena, so she's fair game. Now, let's stop fartin' around. I got you, fair and square, and it ain't even been ten seconds now. You just up and walk out'a here, and maybe I don't take Fluffy's mask and brush for a trophy." He adjusted his grip so that he had Slyboots by the neck, and he took Boots' tail in his other hand.
Placing her glasses back on her nose, Bekky trembled with incandescent rage. "Oh, now it is SO on!" Suddenly, Slyboots erupted in blue fire, scalding OMAG-Prime's hands. Boots flowed, mist-form, back onto Bekky's shoulders. "Listen up, you Brigadoon Bozo! You can piss off the Grunts, I don't care! You can sleaze around Maggie; she's a big girl and she can fight her own battles! You can feel me up and take away my glasses, it's the arena! BUT! Nobody! Hurts! My! BOOTS! This Means WAR!"
*****
"Viewers, Foxfire has done a classic 'Iron Star' shift, and is now dressed entirely in a form-fitting suit of plate armor with cape, shield and a very large SWORD, all wreathed in pale blue fire! She's jumping at OMAG and-"
*****
The will-o-the-wisp warrior made a classic anime sword-leap, using the force of her leap to lend force to her sword-blow. OMAG split apart into four units, which dodged in four different directions, and then turned to jump Foxfire from each quarter. But when they hit, 'Foxfire' dissolved into a thick gooey paste that splattered all over them.
"SUCK- ER!" Foxfire jeered from where she really was, and her fox familiar blew OMAG a juicy razzberry.*Brrphth!*OMAG snarled and split off another unit, one that wasn't covered in goo; Foxfire ran off with a merry cackle, and the chase was on.
Foxfire ran to the side of one building, planted her staff and rode it up to the roof as the staff grew in length by three stories. She clambered over to the roof, and retracted the staff up into her hand. OMAG latched onto the staff and tried to ride it up as well, but it slipped out of his hand at the second story and he dropped sharply. He landed with a thud at the bottom. OMAG looked up with a snarl at Foxfire and Slyboots, the latter of whom returned his snarl with another razzberry. *Brrphth!*
OMAG-Prime recalled all his units and struggled out of the goop. Then, red-faced with rage, he charged to the building and did the 'Human Ladder' maneuver, where he created eight copies of himself under himself, to lift him up to the roof. There he spotted Foxfire, somehow building a bridge to the next building over. He split himself into five units, and ran to the edge of the building. Four of the units cupped their hands and gave the prime unit a toss over the gap to the other building. OMAG immediately split off another three units, which gathered where the other end of Foxfire's bridge landed and started up the bridge, to where Foxfire was just starting to assimilate the fact that she'd been flanked. Foxfire turned around, only to find another four OMAG units climbing up the bridge towards her. "So? How's THIS for clever, fox-girl?" OMAG-Prime jeered.
"Not very," came a voice from behind him. OMAG spun around to look Foxfire right in the face. Stunned, he looked back at the bridge, just in time for both the 'Foxfire' standing on the bridge and the bridge itself to disappear. OMAG started to 'recall' the units, when Foxfire tapped him on the shoulder again, and when he turned, she shoved a pie right in his face. *Splorch!* That distracted OMAG long enough that he couldn't recall his units before they hit. The units 'popped' as they hit the street, rather than taking real traumatic damage, but for OMAG it was like standing in front of a baseball pitching machine on full blast.
As OMAG shook his head to get the stars out of his eyes, Foxfire gave him a merry whistle, stuck out her tongue at him and dropped over the side of the building back onto the street. OMAG rushed to the roof door, only to find that it was locked from the inside and very durable. He reared back to kick the door in, and then kicked himself for being dense. He rushed to the edge of the roof and jumped over, doing a reverse 'human ladder' under him, absorbing the units as he dropped.
OMAG looked around him; he wouldn't put it past the little witch to have laid landmines around the street. Okay, fun time was over; it was time to get serious. A big part of his grade for the semester was tied up in this! His best bet was to stop letting the little witch call the shots; Foxfire was counting on tripping him up with fancy footwork, so he'd keep it as simple as possible. Just beat her to the spindle, surround it with units, and answer the stupid questions. She was probably wasting time setting something up to make him look stupid, so he'd have a shot at getting to the spindle.
He turned a corner and spotted the spindle. He beat feet for it, and just as he got there, a ring of pale blue fire appeared around the spindle! He split off four units, who hoisted him over the ring of fire, without even breaking his stride. HAH! He recalled the units, and then split off as many as he could while leaving himself enough brainpower to actually answer the questions. OMAG switched on the computer, and then he wasn't sure, but there was something wrong. But then the first question popped up: [Who is your favorite singer?]
OMAG paused and typed in: Kylie Minogue.
[WHAT? You like Kylie Minogue? You are such DORK!]
"What?" OMAG bleated.
[You didn't really think that it was going to be THAT easy, now did you?]
Suddenly, the spindle turned into a huge 'Little Shop of Horrors' style carnivorous plant that snapped OMAG up. In horror, OMAG recalled all his units from outside and split them off again inside, adding all their strength to prying the jaws apart and letting OMAG-Prime out. As OMAG breathed hard, getting his wits back, someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he took another pie in the face when he reacted. *Splorch!* He reflexively stopped directing his units and they were quickly chewed up by the 'plant'.
When OMAG recovered his wits from that, he looked around and spotted the real spindle, and ran hell-for-leather to it. But when he looked around for any sign of Foxfire, he spotted another spindle at the end of the other block. He looked in each direction, and at every intersection of the truncated 'city', there was a spindle. And every one of them, save ONE, was one of Foxfire's daft traps.
If nothing else, he was impressed by how FAST the little bitch was.
Then he heard a chime from overhead, and he heard the annoyingly smooth and soothing computerized voice announce that the spindle was in use. Of course! That's what had been wrong before! No chime! Every time the spindle was fired up, they announced it, so you couldn't sneak a win. He yanked a bicycle away from a 'kid' ANT and pedaled with everything he had for the sound of the chime. Yes! There! He fell getting off the bicycle, but he scrambled to his feet and pulled Foxfire out of the spindle just as the voice announced that she was answering her second question. He gave her a good smack in the chops, girl or no girl.
Then she changed. Suddenly, there was one of the ANTS in his hand, looking rather worse for the wear. The voice announced, "Violation! Contestant: OMAG is penalized for attacking a civilian."
Then a pie came flying, and hit him square in the face. He charged with a scream in the direction that the pie came from, spotted Foxfire walking away and jumped her. Again the voice announced, "Violation! Contestant: OMAG is penalized for attacking a civilian."
He looked down, and somehow, he was on top of another ANT. He looked around and suddenly, every ANT, both civilian and police, looked just like Foxfire, serenely milling around the cityscape.
Making like he was putting the trashed ANT out of the way, OMAG fished the ear bud out of his pocket. He heard Runestrong saying in a bored, repetitive tone, [Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now? Can you-]
"YES! Yes, I can bloody well hear you!" OMAG whisper/ shouted.
[Finally! Okay, it's hard to tell exactly from where we are, but you have movement coming your way along the 'shopping arcade'.]
"I can't afford to waste any more time with that little bint! Where's the real spindle?"
[Sorry, Sandy, but to be honest, we've lost track of it. It's to the west of you, and maybe a block up or so, but that's the best I can do. She's got the place dotted with bogus spindles. My guess is that she's trying to force you to try and take her out, rather than just go for the spindle, so she can trap you somewhere. She can't trust that you won't be able to find the real spindle if she goes for it, so she's got to neutralize you, not just sneak around you.]
"Yeah," OMAG grunted, "that sounds just like the giddy little bint... what can you tell me about her? How's she able to pull this crap?"
[I know her slightly from Mystic Arts,] Runestrong answered. [Her specialty is 'Wizardry', which is the mastery of Glamour in its various forms, and she's very good with illusions and chimeras.]
"Oh, crap, you mean she's like that bitch Beltane, with her ectoplasm pranks?"
[Not as bad, Sandy. Foxfire's stuff isn't as solid as Beltane's and it can't do as much. Beltane's ectoplasm can do stuff like make your body think that you've been drugged or electrically shocked, or stuff like that; Foxfire's can't. It can trip you up seven ways to Sunday, but it can't really affect you. Look, Sandy, your best bet is to split up into as many units as you can, and check out each spindle individually. You'll get battered up when the trap goes off, but you'll figure it out, and you won't be playing by her ru-]
[Screw that, Sandy] Horrorshow cut in, obviously taking the phone from Runestrong. [Foxfire does what I do, only wimpier. Just pop her a good one, and everything that she's holding up should drop, and we'll know which spindle's the right one.]
"NOW yer talkin'," OMAG grunted, "but where IS she?"
[You got something coming your way, just around the corner on the arcade, wait for it... NOW!]
"HAH!" OMAG jumped into the middle of the narrow street-
-only to be run over by a complete marching band of Foxfires, marching five across, playing 'Seventy-Six Trombones', and trampling all over OMAG with gusto. Even the Drum Majorette. And Slyboots the fox brought up the rear, finishing it off with a razzberry as she passed. *Nyeh!*
*****
"IIIeeeyyyeee- LOVE A PARAAADDDEEE..." Greasy and Peeper caroled together.
*****
"THAT...? Was an Illusion...?" OMAG groaned.
[Well, it didn't help that you believed it so much,] Runestrong quibbled. [Most of the pain you're feeling it because you think that you've been trampled over by a hundred plus girls.]
[Though, I hear that there are guys who will pay GOOD MONEY to have that done to them,] Horrorshow mused. [Hey, Sandy, Slide says that he's spotted what he thinks is a power junction box.]
"Yeah," OMAG grunted, getting up and dusting himself off. "AND?"
[So? Open it up with one of the tools in your utility belt, and fiddle around with the power. See if you can shut down the lights in various parts of the set.]
"Y'think it'll actually work?"
[Why do you think that they put that thing in there in the first place? Think about it: what's the first thing that Foxfailure's gonna do, once the lights go out? She's gonna strike up a light, right? We see that, we know where she is, we tell you.]
"Sounds like a plan! Where's this junction box?"
*****
[Sandy, I don't think that you should be doing that,] Runestrong warned OMAG as he fiddled around with the switches on the junction box that he'd pried open. [Heavy electrical wiring is dangerous, and-]
*XXXAAAXXXTT!!*
One particularly ill-advised combination shorted out the panel and badly shocked OMAG. But it also sent the entire arena into darkness.
*****
"Minion! Put on your low-light goggles! Okay, Campers, here's where the Peep-man comes to the rescue! Anyway the One Man Special Education Class is looking around, and he's actually prepared with a small flashlight. GEE, y'think that he goes around with a flashlight in his utility belt, hmmm? Anyway, he's the only light on the board at the moment. Gee, conspicuous much?"
"Wait a minute, Peeper... there are lights moving around... several lights... I can't make it out..."
*****
[Sandy!] Runestrong yelled, [Do you still have that talisman that I made for you?]
"Yeah, but so what, it didn't help me pick up that bird for shit!"
[Not THAT talisman, the iron one!]
"Yeah, but-" OMAG's complaint was cut off by a spine-chilling wail. Figures out of Sandy's childhood nightmares, the 'wake up and hide under the covers shivering' kind, came floating out of the darkness, dimly glowing purplish skeletal figures wrapped up in cloaks of mist. "Oh, give me a break!" Sandy said in a voice that wasn't as strong and sure as he was obviously hoping that it would be. The skeletal figures danced around him and then OMAG felt a prickly tickling sensation all over him, and suddenly he was covered in spiders.
"Aaaauuuggghhh!!!" OMAG screamed as he danced around scraping the spiders off of him. Unnerved, he looked around horror-struck at the ghastly figures as they gathered around him and...
The lights came back on. Now, he could see that the horrific things were just wispy nothings that Foxfire and her familiar were moving, while making 'wwooo...' noises. Foxfire suddenly realized that OMAG could see her. "Woo?" she said weakly.
"You... sneaky... smartass... little..."
*Splorch!*
Foxfire didn't wait for him to finish his insult. She hit him right in the face with a pie and lit out at a full run. With a snarling roar, OMAG wiped the pie off his face and ran after her. Then he was seeing that somehow Foxfire had managed to find a tricked out Harley-Davidson motorcycle and was driving away, her fox blowing him a razzberry as they did so. *brrrffftth!!*
[Sandy! She's only got a bicycle! She's using her magic to make it move faster, but the whole 'motorcycle' thing is just to psyche you out,] Runestrong started.
[Sandy!] Horrorshow cut in, [That Ant-Kid has a bike! Crack the whip!]
[Crack the whip? On a BIKE?]
[SO? It's the last thing that she'd expect!]
[So is the Spanish Inquisition, and you don't hear me telling him to break out the Comfy Chair!]
OMAG grabbed the bike, pushing the child-sized ANT to the ground, and performed the human ladder again, leaving himself at the bottom. This time, his 'clones' dropped to the ground in the direction of Foxfire's exit, linking hands as they did so, forming a human whip. When the topmost 'OMAG' hit the ground, they 'cracked the whip', sending the bicycle zipping along at nearly 40 mph.
OMAG wobbled a bit, but he managed to keep the bicycle upright and aimed it at Foxfire's back without losing too much momentum.
He had her dead in his sights.
He grinned a vicious 'I'm coming to get you' grin at Foxfire, who looked back, saw him as he was coming up on her-
-and split off in two different directions.
This took OMAG so much by surprise that he continued on straight ahead, right onto the ramp that Foxfire had created in front of him. His bicycle leapt into the air, through a hoop that appeared out of nowhere, and landed in the ornamental fountain. As he crawled out of the fountain, sopping wet, Horrorshow said, [She's heading east, you can still catch her if you use the Human Slingshot!]
[Human Slingshot? How is that going to be any better than that 'crack the whip' bit?] Runestrong objected.
OMAG split into as many copies as he could. They formed a 'vee' on either side of him, and they did another 'crack the whip' that was much shorter but just as effective. OMAG managed to get control of his bike before he recalled his units, and went zooming along in search of Foxfire before she could put any more of her stupid tricks into action. Then he spotted her, kneeling by the side of the road paying too much attention to something on the sidewalk. He veered towards her, only regretting that he was still coasting too fast to add speed by pedaling.
Then the sidewalk rose up into a ramp over Foxfire's head, and OMAG whizzed up the ramp doing at least 25 mph. He vaulted across the street and up through a second story window.
[Sandy! She's heading south now! Go to the roof and do the Human Trapeze to take her by surprise!]
[The Human Trapeze? But the unit at the top won't have enough strength to hold-]
[He'll be FINE!]
OMAG rushed up to the roof and performed the Human Ladder again.
[Sandy! Don't do it!]
OMAG's ladder leaned over, spanned the distance between the buildings and the top man grabbed onto an awning.
[Aaauugghh!] Runestrong screamed in frustration, [WHY do I hang out with you guys?]
The OMAG chain started to swing down, coming up behind Foxfire from above, where she'd never see it coming. Unfortunately, instead of holding onto the ledge because there was no clearance, or a fire escape (because there wasn't one), OMAG had latched onto a high awning. Awnings aren't particularly well-known for their holding strength. The cloth tore, dumping the entire OMAG chain in a heap on the sidewalk. Only the fact that OMAG-Prime landed on top of a bunch of copies kept him from crippling himself.
*****
"Y'know, Grease-o, that's either the coolest thing or the dumbest thing I've ever seen. And it worries me that I'm not sure which."
"Actually, Peeper, I'm pretty impressed by some of the moves that OMAG's throwing out. I mean, if he had any tactical understanding or discipline or ability to work with information, he'd be pretty dangerous. As it is-"
"As it is, he's a living testament to my personal mantra for the Combat Finals:"
Together, Peeper and Greasy intoned, "At least it's not US this time."
"As it is, he looks like one of those H1! ads, where the mutant is as much a danger to himself as he is to everyone else."
"Oh. My. GAWD."
"The video link to Las Vegas!"
"Hotchkiss, cut the feed, cut the feed! For the Love of Russ Meyer, cut the feed!"
*****
[Sandy, the Eskimo Trampoline!]
['The Eskimo Trampoline'? Horrorshow, are you even TRYING to help Sandy win this thing, or are you just trying to see what you can sucker him into doing?]
[Why Runeski-toonski, I'm hurt! I swear on my sainted Irish grandmother's grave-]
[Horrorshow, both your grandmothers are alive, Russian, and meaner than snakes with athlete's foot!]
[Look, we can't see Foxfire from where we are, but if he bounces one of his units up in the air, he might be able to spot her without going up on one of the roofs, AND, if he needs to get to the top of a building he can just jump there on his next bounce! Besides, it'll look AWESOME!]
The OMAG swarm ripped an awning off the front of a building, and used it to throw one of their units high into the air. In a reproduction of a trick used by Inuit and other North American tribes to see over the horizon, the OMAG units threw their lookout progressively higher and higher into the air. OMAG-Prime watched from the sidelines keeping an eye on their coordination. Then someone tapped him on the shoulder. OMAG turned around on reflex, right into a pie in the face. *Splorch!*
As OMAG wiped the pie from his face and the units gathered around her, Foxfire said calmly, "Aren't you guys forgetting something?"
Then the unit that they'd thrown up in the air landed, hard. This affected OMAG-Prime like a haymaker to the jaw, and the other OMAG-units popped like soap bubbles. Slyboots blew OMAG another razzberry *brrrffftth!!* And they were gone again.
*****
Once OMAG got his senses back, he tried to make up for lost time by doing a 'human ladder' laterally in shifts to get his Prime-unit going faster. He managed to get within fifty feet of the galloping little git and her freaky fox, when Foxfire ducked into one of the spindles, and the overhead voice declared, [First Question: Answered]
Foxfire was in the middle of answering the second question when OMAG reached in, grabbed her, dragged her out, and handed her over to two of his units to hold. He climbed in and looked at the monitor. He carefully started up the computer.
Which didn't even have the good grace to do a countdown as the hatch slammed shut and the spindle turned into a rocket. It rumbled, shook, roared and took off, with the back-blast from the takeoff taking out the OMAG units standing around. "Have a nice landing- OUTSIDE the arena! SUCKER!" Foxfire yelled at the departing rocket, waving a handful of spell slips like a handkerchief.
Then a hand reached over her shoulder from behind her and grabbed the spell slips from out of her hand. "You didn't think that I'd fall for that trick a second time, now did you? You forgot to make the chime ring," OMAG chided her. "THESE are how you've been able to pull these big stunts, aren't you?" he shook them at her as she shrank before him. "You prepared them before, so's you could stuff that would be way too much." He tore up the stack of spell slips and threw them in her face. "Well, let's see you do something NOW!"
Then something tapped at the back of his head, OMAG turned around and looked into the maw of a huge Fenris Wolf-sized canid. The huge beast opened its cavernous maw and OMAG flinched for an earth-shaking roar or screech. Instead, Slyboots stuck her head out of the illusion and gave him a huge razzberry, *Brrrpphhhtthh!* and then scampering off. OMAG turned around, and Foxfire was gone as well.
[Sandy! She's heading south again! If you-]
[Use the Fire Hydrant Wave!]
[Why do I even bother?]
A bit shaky on their pins, one of the OMAG swarm gathered up a stiff board, while a bunch of them opened up a fire hydrant, sending a geyser of water onto the street. OMAG-Prime used the power of the water to send him shooting down the street after Foxfire. Of course, OMAG had never actually been surfing before, and the arrangement was unstable at best, and he wiped out just as he hit the intersection.
As he cleared his head, he looked up and saw Foxfire looking down at him. "Y'know," she said in a disgruntled voice, "the way this is supposed to go down is, I get my Princess Projectra on, run you ragged and make you look like a maroon, with the pies and exploding bombs and impossible twists and all like that. But how am I supposed to do that, if you do it all to yourself? MAN, this has gotten boring. I'm just gonna go hit the spindle and get this over with, before you hurt yourself or something." Then she just casually sauntered off. The little fox on her shoulder didn't even bother with a razzberry, it just lifted its tail in complete dismissal.
OMAG struggled to his feet, staggered, and had a short but invigorating tantrum. He pulled the bud from his ear and stomped on it. NO more listening to Horrorshow! He was gonna do it HIS way! Then he set off after Foxfire. "Okay BITCH, you're right, let's just get this over with! Come out, and I'll mash you into the pavement, that'll get it over with right and proper!"
[Now, THAT'S more like it!] blared an amplified voice. From around a corner, a three-story tall anthropomorphic robot stepped out onto the street, looming over OMAG. In the fox-head module atop the giant robot was Foxfire, working the controls with manic glee. [THAT'S the spirit that led the charge at Gallipoli!] With mechanical inexorability, the giant mecha stepped forward, shaking the ground, crushing cars and smashing ANTs under its Mini-Cooper-sized treads. [NOW, who's big and bad, huh?]
*****
"Okay... It's not a suicide charge of topless go-go girls... but still... that's just cool."
*****
OMAG-Prime ran as his units were crushed by the juggernaut. The giant robot herded him with wide sweeping strikes of its huge arms. He found himself trapped in a blind alley. Foxfire raised both arms of the automaton, ready to crush OMAG. And then-
-a gong rang and a calm electronic voice overhead announced: [Simulation Complete. Victor: Foxfire. Will both contestants please leave the arena and receive their grades, so the arena can be repaired for the next simulation?]
[Suck-ER! *Brrrpphhhtthh!!!*] Foxfire jeered, and the raspberry lingered as the illusion faded.
OMAG looked around, utterly flabbergasted. There weren't any crushed cars or ANTs. The giddy little bitch had suckered him into thinking that his units had been crushed, when it was only an illusion! "But! But I didn't hear the gong when the spindle was activated! Aaarrrgghhh! She must have covered up the sound! Or I was so distracted that I didn't HEAR it!" OMAG slumped, let out a sigh of despair and schlepped his way to the exit. The various aches and bruises that he'd earned started to make themselves known as the adrenaline started to fade. Oh well... maybe repeating the semester wouldn't be THAT bad...
He spotted Horror Show, Runestrong and the others waiting for him at the exit. They appeared to want to say something to him, but for some reason they weren't saying anything, and they were moving their hands in a way that suggested that they were trying to signal him somehow. He marched over and started to ask what the hell they were trying to say, when there was another gong and the overhead voice announced: [Violation! Contestant: OMAG has left the arena before the examination was completed. Contestant: OMAG automatically forfeits, and accepts a grade of Fail. Winner: Foxfire. Will both contestants please leave the arena and receive their grades, so the arena can be repaired for the next simulation?]
"What?" OMAG bleated. "But she... but the announcement..." he looked at Horrorshow and Runestrong. "Why didn't you WARN me?"
Runestrong pointed off to the side, where the Grunts strutted into sight and lined up.
"GRUNTS!" Deadeye barked, "SAH-LOOT!" The Grunts all snapped to attention and made the 'L' sign on their foreheads. "Hey, OMAG", Deadeye said with a smirk, "When you're ready to stop farting around and learn a little discipline, we'll talk. In the mean time, target practice is tomorrow."
They stopped as an entire Roman victory procession, complete with maidens rapturously strewing flowers in her path and a litter bearing Foxfire, passed. The procession paused as Foxfire and Slyboots passed in front of OMAG. Boots blew him one last, especially juicy, razzberry, *Brrrpphhhtthh!* and the procession moved on.
*****
"So, what grade did they give you?" Lifeline asked.
"B-plus."
"WHAT?" Loophole demanded, "But you got him to leave the arena before the test was over! That's GOT to be 'A' material!"
"Yeah, but I suckered OMAG into trashing a couple of ANTs, so they dinged me for those as well as ol' Rob Roy. And there was some talk about dragging outside quarrels into the Finals. Besides, I think that they thought that I went a little hard on the noid, foisting an automatic 'F' off on him."
There was a tap on Foxfire's shoulder. She turned. *Splorch!* A pie hit her right in the face. "OR, maybe they didn't want to be party to Copyright Infringement!" Beltane snapped, just before she turned and flounced off.
THAT'S ALL FOLKS!
[Updated on: Sun, 22 January 2012 14:59]
To Be, or Not to Be; this is a question?
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| | Topic: Spring, and a Young Squirrel's Fancy... |
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| Spring, and a Young Squirrel's Fancy... [message #50535] |
Sun, 01 January 2012 03:49 |
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Diane Castle
Messages: 2505
Registered: September 2007
Location: Oregon, USA |
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Spring, and a Young Squirrel's Fancy...
a Whateley Universe story
by Diane Castle
Friday, March 16, 2007
Spring Term
Whateley Academy
Anna Parsons wasn't looking forward to aikido class, like she usually did. No, she didn't want to go today. Not that she would ever tell sensei Ito or sensei Tolman that, because she thought they were the most amazing martial arts people ever, not counting Chaka, who was too cool to believe, and she was a little mad at Chaka too, not that she was ever going to say so.
But she'd heard from Lucille, who heard it from Winnie, who would know, that Chou wasn't eating with Team Kimba in the cafeteria much anymore because Team Kimba kicked her off their team and Phase kicked her out of their room and had that slutty new girl who looked even more vampire-y than Erzebet for a roommate! She couldn't believe it! And she thought Phase was nice. But everybody was saying it: Phase kicked Chou out of Team Kimba like for nothing!
And yesterday, sensei Ito told her she was going to be working with Phase today in class. She didn't want to. She really, really didn't want to do training with Phase when she was mad at her, not that she could hurt Phase at all, but she just wanted to say something angry at her and stomp out of the room and hurt her feelings like she hurt Chou's feelings, because Anna knew she'd just be crushed if the Underdogs threw her out and Ellen made her go get another room. And how did Phase even do the room thing? Because there was no way Mrs. Nelson would just let someone in Dickinson kick someone else out of their room, no matter how much they were fighting, and Ree said their housemother made Diamondback and Psydoe room together even after they just about wrecked the room a couple times, which Anna didn't get, because she thought Diamondback and Psydoe were both really nice, but Ree said Psydoe had a fear of snakes or something and kept having nightmares about Diamondback and kept using her PK power in her sleep or something. Well, it sounded bad. But if you couldn't get your roommate changed for something like that, how on earth did Phase get Chou moved out of her room? Did she buy out the whole dorm? And could you even do that? Because she could totally believe Solange would do something like that and buy out Dickinson and make everyone else move off 'her' floor and just have some maids living there, and maybe Flicker and Fade too.
And she'd thought all the Kimbas were nice. Even Tennyo, when lots of people said really mean things about her. She'd really liked going to Boston with them, even with the thing in the restaurant and the police and all that. And she'd been pretty sad that Adrienne's fear aura thingy came back when they flew home, because it would've been really nice if it just stayed away forever and Adrienne and her sister could have friends who weren't scared to be next to 'em and stuff. But how could they just kick Chou out of their team? Okay, Chou was spending lots more time with Molly and Dorjee, and everyone knew why, because they were all dating together even if Anna wasn't sure how that would really work because Molly wouldn't really talk about the stuff that made her really embarrassed, but Lindsay said sometimes Chou went out on a 'date' with Molly and sometimes Chou went out on a 'date' with Dorjee, and sometimes she thought all three of them hung out together in Chou's new room in Poe, even if Chou had a new roommate now. So Anna was totally confused about that, and lately she just felt kind of weird thinking about it.
Okay, the last couple days, she'd been feeling sort of weird, period. Just edgy and, well, like just before her period started, but it wasn't the right time for her period to start. She'd already had her period. And it was kind of weird, but she'd been a little irregular at the start of fall term, but then she started having her period at pretty much the same time as most of the floor, which Mrs. Nelson said was perfectly normal, and sometimes one girl had strong enough magical or psychic powers that the whole dorm would just kind of sync up with her on their period, and then everyone in the whole dorm would be really crabby on the same day, which sounded bad.
Maybe she was coming down with something.
She hoped it was a human disease, and not something freaky like squirrel flu or chipmunk chicken pox or rabies or something. Or maybe she was just upset about the thing with Chou. She couldn't believe Phase would do a thing like that! It was so mean. And Phase was nice. But really determined. And she wouldn't stop for anything if she thought she needed to do something. And kind of pushy about some stuff. And... Oh jeez, maybe Phase would do something like that. She wondered if she could talk to Phase about the deal with Chou, and maybe it would turn out it was all some ginormous misunderstanding, and they'd all have a big laugh about it.
Or not. She was really worried Phase would tell her to shut up and she wasn't her friend anymore. Or maybe Phase would be really mean and say she didn't like Chou anymore and she really did kick her out of the Kimbas. But wouldn't all the rest of the Kimbas say 'no way' and make her and Chou work it out and be friends again?
But now that the Crystal Hall had like three whole huge levels, Chou wasn't even eating on the same floor as Team Kimba was anymore. At least, she didn't think so, because the Kimbas had staked out a pretty fancy table up near the top level. She wasn't all that sure. Anna was still eating with the other Underdogs at one of the ground floor tables. But since all the really important groups were upstairs, like the Alphas and the Capes and the Golden Kids and the New Olympians and like that were all sitting at big tables on the very top floor, there was a ton more room on the main floor. Even with the food area getting a lot bigger, and the spaces for the stairs and the elevator and the escalators. And the even more awesome waterfall and ponds in the middle of the room. Gary and Alan had picked out a spot back away from the food tables and near one of the plantings, where they had a really nice view of the outside, and also a great view of the waterfall, which bounced and ran down from the very top now and had like a dozen little ponds and things at different levels that it spilled into or ran through. So it was really pretty on the ground floor, and there was plenty of room, and everyone mean went upstairs and left them alone, except the bullies at that one table way over by Captain Bravo. And Pucelle. Who never talked to Anna no matter what. But those bullies weren't bothering any Underdogs anymore, at least not in the cafeteria, because if they even wanted to they had to go past Team Bravo and a couple other tables like that, and past a table or two of Thornies, and nobody wanted to mess with Slab or Jimmy T. Or Olympia, because she was totally whacko. Or Phlegm, because... ewww. And then there were the guys who still had to eat over on the far side of the hall under those big vent fans, like Killstench. And Nate had to go sit over there some of the time still, because that boy just would not leave that stupid chili alone, and every time they served it he ate like three bowls of it. Alan said he ate four bowls of chili last Wednesday, and tried to sneak a to-go box full of chili back to his room. She felt bad for Nate's roommate, even if they did have a special vent fan in their room over his bed. And Gary said Peeper was still mad at Nate about the combat final thing, so he kept giving Nate 'presents' of canned chili and soda and bean salad and stuff like that so Nate would have to sit by himself at meals, and they had to keep him out of the Underdog hangout, and stuff like that. But Nate just kept eating that stuff, and it wasn't like anyone was making him do it, were they?
Oh Jeez, she really hoped his Avatar spirit wasn't making him eat that stuff every time and he just couldn't stop doing it, because that would be so not fair.
She hurried down the hallways. She was finished with third period and wanted to see Jerry before lunch, because she was sure he wouldn't get to lunch, because ever since he made that business deal with Phase he was working extra hours on their hair products, and Phase had helped Jerry get his own private lab just down the hall from the main chem Workshop lab, where Jerry was doing dozens and dozens of tests of his secret hair-lengthening potion, on tons and tons of different kinds of real hair, because Phase had gotten Jerry like a zillion different real-hair wigs to do testing on. Oh yeah, and Jerry didn't like it when she slipped up and called it a potion out loud.
So she knocked on the door and waited until he came out in his goggles and Whateley labcoat, which looked a little funny over jeans and sneakers and a t-shirt, but as far as she could tell that was what real scientists wore in the lab, and not the suits and ties and stuff like in the movies. Which made sense, pretty much, since some of the stuff Jerry worked with could really stain your clothes or burn a hole in your stuff or worse, so wearing a fancy suit could be a really bad idea, and that was why she only wore her bad sneakers to chem lab, because they were already wrecked, with the hole she'd scratched in the tip with her toenails.
Okay, all the holes and stuff she'd scratched in both shoes with her toenails. Even though she filed 'em every week! And put a couple coats of nail polish on 'em twice a week, just in case.
She was really glad she was taking Chem I and Chem I lab this term, instead of Bio II with lab, because she'd heard from Shuttle that they were dissecting a dead cat. Eww! Okay, squirrels didn't like cats a whole lot, but she'd had a cat of her own that she'd loved for years and years, and she'd been heartbroken when it died, and she couldn't imagine having to cut up a cat no matter how dead it was. She was just glad they weren't cutting up squirrels. That would be awful. But Shuttle said they were going to be cutting up a baby pig later in the term, so she was really, really glad she dropped biology, even if she did get a good grade in there.
But chemistry was kind of hard. There were tons of things to memorize, and the labs had tricky things to do. She was really glad Jerry liked that she was taking chemistry now, and he really liked taking her into his lab and showing her how to do stuff the right way, like the titration thing she had to do for her last lab that she was really struggling with until Jerry showed her a couple little tricks and then it went just great. And she had to memorize a ton of stuff about the periodic table and the elements that Jerry just knew off the top of his head, but on the other hand he told her tons of stuff about why memorizing all these things was really important, especially for later in Chem II and organic chemistry and inorganic chemistry and stuff like that, even if she thought she probably wouldn't take fancy stuff like that until college, if she could even get into a decent college and find a scholarship so she could pay for it and stuff.
Jerry took off his goggles and smiled at her, which made her heart do a funny little flutter, because he really looked cute with his hair messed up from taking off his goggles and he was still in his labcoat and she never got around to asking if he needed her to bring him some lunch, because she just stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Hard.
And it was so wonderful. Her brain just sort of shut off, because she was kissing Jerry, and he was so warm and smelled so good and she was pulling him closer and she wanted him even closer than he was, and...
A big fat jerky voice laughed, "Hey! Way ta go Haz! Right in the hall, too!"
It was Erlenmeyer, looking at them. At her. And that was when she realized what she was doing.
She had grabbed Jerry so hard her nails had cut through his labcoat, and she had her fingers sunk in ten little holes right through the front of his coat. She was wrapped around him, with her legs around his body so her thighs were pressing on his hips and she was pressing her crotch against his and she could feel his... you know... pressing against her, and she felt so hot she wondered why her pants hadn't caught on fire. And Erlenmeyer was seeing her do it.
She had never been more humiliated in her entire life.
She pulled her hands free, ripping his labcoat even worse, and she ran. She didn't think about where she was going, she just ran.
She ran down the hall, and around the corner, and she couldn't stop to wait for the elevator, so she ran up the stairs, and she just took 'em on all fours like she was galloping up 'em, and she just ran until she ran out of stairs, and then she ran out and down a hall, and she found a window to open and she jumped out the window into a tree that wasn't too far away, even if she was jumping out a third story window. She scrambled back down to the ground and ran.
She was crying too hard to see where she was going, but somehow she managed not to knock anybody down, or run into one of the school bricks and break her nose, or anything like that. She ran until she tore through the lobby, up to her floor, and down the hall to the big bathroom. She scrambled out of her clothes and threw herself into a shower. She yanked on the faucet and turned on the cold water.
She needed really cold water. Biting cold water. Her body felt like she was burning up, and her breasts were all achy and puffy, and her... umm... was... you know. She was so ashamed she just wanted to die. Oh gosh, what was Jerry gonna think of her? What was everyone gonna think of her? Because Erlenmeyer was a big loudmouthed jerk and she knew he'd tell everybody about her just about molesting Jerry right there in the hallway where anybody could've walked up, and it just had to be Erlenmeyer instead of someone who'd be nice about it.
And if Erlenmeyer hadn't walked up to them right then... Oh my God.
She curled up in a ball on the floor of the shower and let the freezing water pound down on her while she cried.
"Anna? Anna?"
It was Mrs. Nelson, probably wondering what crazy wacko thing she was doing now. She didn't say anything. She couldn't bear to see Mrs. Nelson's face when she found out what Anna had been doing, because she really liked Mrs. Nelson and she really wanted Mrs. Nelson to like her back, and this was just too awful, and she wished she could fly through the walls to get away like Phase could, even if she was mad at Phase.
"Anna? Are you all right?"
"S-s-s-s-sure." But she was so cold and she was shivering so hard she couldn't even talk normal, so she just sounded like a big spazz or something.
Mrs. Nelson reached in and turned off the water, and then knelt down outside the shower. "Oh honey, you need to come out and dry off and warm up. Where's your towel?"
"I... I don't have one. I just ran in here because... because..." And then she burst into tears again because she was so mad at herself and so humiliated and she was terrified she was turning into a giant slut who was gonna be grabbing guys and kissing them and doing perverted sex things right in front of everybody, and then everyone would hate her, and then she'd get all pregnant and get thrown out of school or worse, and...
"Why is this happening to me!"
"Anna, look at me, please. Can you tell me what's wrong? Can you talk about it? Hold on one second..."
And then Mrs. Nelson got up and walked out of the bathroom and came right back with a great big towel like a beach towel only fluffier, and she wrapped Anna up in the towel and helped her out of the shower and let her sit on the floor. She even scooted Anna over to the sinks, where there was one hair dryer mounted on the wall, even if it was crummy and it was always too hot to use to style your hair, but if you left your hair dryer back in your room or yours broke or something, it was a lot better than nothing, or trying to borrow a hair dryer from girls like Flicker who wouldn't loan you their hair dryer if you were trapped inside a big ice cube.
Anna sat there and sort of dried herself off while she tried to stop sobbing. But she felt so bad, and her emotions had been all ragged for days now, and she was really cold. That hair dryer on her hair and her back and her feet felt really good.
"Th-thanks," she managed to say, even if her jaws were shaking so much she could hardly talk, and she just knew if anyone saw her they'd make mean 'stuttering Winnie' jokes.
Mrs. Nelson dried her hair some more and gave her a chance to calm down some, and waited a bit before she asked again, "Can you tell me what's wrong?"
And Anna wanted to tell her, but she started crying again, so it all came out in sobs and gasps and stammers, with snot running down her face and tears everywhere. She told her about kissing Jerry and getting so carried away and wanting to... you know... have sex with him right there in the hallway. And how he had a big boner and she was pressing against it like some kind of skanky slut, and she had no idea what would've happened if someone hadn't walked in on 'em.
Mrs. Nelson gently said, "Jerry seems like a very nice boy. I'm sure he would have stopped you. Even if it was only because you were in a hallway. And don't worry about that erection of his. He's a teenaged boy. He gets them a lot more than you really want to know. Trust me on this."
Anna sobbed, "But I was just all skanky and slutty and I was like climbing all over him and grinding against him, and I'm not that kind of girl! I was all afraid of this, but then I found out squirrel mating season is like around Christmas or else in the summer, so I thought I would be okay this spring except for the big eating thing, and I don't know what's wrong with me!"
Mrs. Nelson gently stroked her hair, like her mom used to do back before Anna turned into a mutant and her mom didn't want to touch her anymore, and she said, "Oh honey, I know this is a big shock for you, but it'll be okay. Really. You're not the first Avatar to have trouble with their spirit, especially about things like this. Oh dear, why didn't they get you into the Avatar classes? Or at least Powers Theory?"
Anna whimpered, "Mrs. Hawkins said she'd get me into Powers Theory and lab next fall, and then one of the Avatar courses next spring, and I figured that was okay because I was doing fine with my squirrel spirit and it's been really nice, and I hadn't had any troubles, like they said Peccary did back in the fall, and I really wanted to take chemistry but it has a lab with it and I couldn't work both into my class schedule, and I really wanted to understand when Jerry talks about his work, and oh my gosh, he'll never talk to me again! This is the worst thing ever!"
Mrs. Nelson stroked her hair some more and said, "No, it'll be okay. Really. Boys don't get angry with you for getting carried away when you kiss them. They get angry with you when you get carried away and start kissing other boys."
Anna burst into tears again. "Like I'll probably be doing as soon as I go outside again, because I was so burning up I was like gonna explode, and I wanted him so bad I dunno what I would've done if we'd been in his lab, and what if I can't be alone with him anymore, and what if I start jumping on every guy I see, and he's never gonna want to be my boyfriend again!"
Mrs. Nelson pulled out her cell phone while Anna bawled into the big towel and tried not to get snot all over it because it wasn't hers and whoever it belonged to was gonna be mad that she was using it and getting it all icky and stuff.
Mrs. Nelson dialed a number and no one answered. She dialed another number. "Oh, hello Pythia, it's me... I have a small problem in the freshman girls' bathroom. Could you come down and help? ... It's Aquerna... No, no one hurt her, she's just really upset about something she did that isn't her fault. Could you walk her over to see one of the counselors right now? ... Thanks a million."
Then she put her phone away and said, "Come on, Anna. Let's get you dressed again. Where's your coat and your purse and your backpack?"
Anna looked around. She could see her pants and shoes and socks and shirt and lingerie on the floor, but nothing else was there. "Oh no, they're gone! I must've lost 'em while I was running home, and I don't even know where I ran, and my mom's gonna kill me if I lose that coat, and my purse is in my backpack, and oh my gosh my notes and my homework are in my backpack, and I can't pay for a new textbook, and what am I gonna do? I'm so stupid!" She started weeping again, even if she didn't want to.
Mrs. Nelson just said, "Don't worry, I'm sure they'll turn up. I'll check with lost and found, and we'll deal with it. Okay?"
Anna nodded, because she knew that was what Mrs. Nelson wanted her to do, but she just knew it wasn't gonna be okay, and if she lost her class notes and her lab report and her homework, she was gonna be doomed, and she'd flunk everything, which wouldn't even matter because she'd probably be all pregnant by then and everyone would hate her and she'd get kicked out of school and she wouldn't have anywhere to go and she'd have to be a supervillain to get enough money to feed her baby and she just knew she'd be really bad at it and get arrested and shot and stuff. She burst into tears just thinking about it.
She was still tucking in her shirt and blowing her nose for about the fifty millionth time when Pythia came in. She really wanted Pythia to like her, and now she was gonna think Anna was all skanky and icky like Cytherea who Pythia didn't really get along with, and Anna just knew Pythia would never like her again, and it was all she could do not to burst into tears again.
Pythia asked, "What happened? Are you sure no one hurt her?"
Mrs. Nelson said, "No, Anna's just... having a problem with her powers."
"That time of the month?"
Mrs. Nelson said, "No. That time of the year."
"Ohhhhhhh." Pythia put her arm around Anna and said, "Come on, let's go over to Admin and get you in to see a counselor right away, and we'll make sure you get all the help you need. Okay?"
Anna nodded but said, "But I got classes to go to this afternoon, and I can't miss class, because I'm not all super-smart like some people, and I need to hear the teachers and take notes and study and stuff. And maybe I didn't wanna go to aikido because of Phase but I would've gone anyways and it would've been fun. Mostly. Except for the part about working with Phase."
"Phase? The Goodkind girl? I thought she was one of your big pals."
Anna said, "She's being mean to Chou! I mean Bladedancer. Molly's... you know. Her girlfriend. She kicked her out of Team Kimba, and kicked her out of her room, and they don't even eat with Chou anymore I don't think, and Chou's really nice!"
Pythia asked, "Do you have a coat? Or should we just go?"
"I lost my coat when I was running back here, I guess, and my mom's gonna be really mad, if she ever lets me go home again, an' I don't even know what I'm gonna do this summer, because Ree let me go home with her for Christmas and her family's really really nice, but there's no way I can just do that again for a while summer! And I lost my backpack too and it has my purse in it, and I'm in so much trouble!"
Pythia gave her a little one-armed hug and said, "We'll work things out, okay? Let's just get over to Admin and see who can talk to you." They started walking.
"Is talking gonna help?"
"Talking always helps."
Anna nodded. "Yeah, but it won't make me be not all skanky and horny and climbing all over Jerry in the hallway. And what if he never wants to see me again?" She nearly burst into tears again.
Pythia said, "I have yet to meet a teenaged boy who didn't want to see a girl again after she climbed all over him. There may be a few guys who just want to get the nookie and then move on to another girl, but that didn't happen, right? And Jerry doesn't sound like that kind of boy. Right?"
Anna said, "Jerry's nice! And I didn't! And... and I might've if Erlenmeyer hadn't come out and made fun of me. And... oh my gosh, what if Jerry thinks I'm gonna put out on our next date? Oh, this is bad."
Pythia said, "Let me tell you a little secret. Every girl, no matter what she's done in the past, has the right to say 'no' and mean it."
"But- but what if I can't say no the next time? I mean, I started it. And I pretty much climbed right on him and did the grind-y thing and made him get a boner and everything!"
Pythia sighed. "Anna, until you get this little problem under control, maybe you shouldn't go out with Jerry. I mean, you shouldn't go out with anybody until you get this under control. And we need to get you on some birth control, just in case."
"My mom'll kill me if I start taking birth control pills! She said only bad girls do that. And I can't afford 'em anyways. I'm a full scholarship student."
Pythia said, "Look, a lot of kids here are on full or nearly-full scholarships. It's an expensive school. Not many of us are a Goodkind or a Walcutt. My folks are pretty well off, but I'm on a 90% scholarship. This school is more expensive than the most expensive college you've ever heard of. And you don't have to be a total skank to be on the pill. I'm on the pill. It helps me with my period, because my roomie's a nature mage. If I don't take it, my body gets completely synched to her period in a matter of days, and that means I have a horrible time every time we come back from a vacation. Imagine having two periods in two weeks."
"Ick."
Pythia said, "Anyone like you, who might have trouble controlling their urges some of the year because of their powers, needs to be on the pill, or taking the shot, or something similar. This is why all the girl Avatars like you, and all the animal girls like Miyet and Psydoe, are supposed to take Powers Theory and Lab their first term, so they can learn about this and know how to handle it. Who's your advisor?"
"Mrs. Hawkins."
Pythia groaned. "I should've known. That old bat. Look, after we get this little problem taken care of, I want you to bring me your current class schedule, along with your fall and winter schedules, and I'll help you pick out classes for next year. You really need Avatars I, and probably Avatars II. Plus Powers Theory."
Anna worried, "But what about English? And math? And science? And social studies? Don't I need to get all those classes in first?"
Pythia said, "You need the powers stuff more. Okay, you don't need things like Costume Shop or Survival, given how you did in your combat final."
Anna said, "I like aikido. Sensei Ito is really cool. I wanna keep taking martial arts until I'm really good at it."
Pythia said, "Okay, but next fall you could take Powers Theory with Lab, English and math, and also martial arts."
Anna said, "What about Chem II? I mean, if Jerry doesn't hate me..."
Pythia asked, "Are you really taking chemistry because of who you're dating? That's a bad idea."
She admitted, "Umm, I'm really taking chem because I couldn't imagine taking bio again and having to dissect a cat and a baby pig."
Pythia nodded. "Right. Animal spirit. Hawkins should've thought of that before she stuck you in bio to begin with. Just so you know, there is a special section of bio with no lab, and there's no dissections to do."
Anna said, "Well, so far I'm liking chem, even if there's a ton of stuff to learn, and some of the experiments in the syllabus look really cool."
Pythia said, "And your boyfriend's a chem deviser."
"If he's still my boyfriend after all this mess," Anna moaned.
Pythia rubbed her shoulder. "You're making way too much out of this. What did your boyfriend in junior high do when you made a mistake?"
Anna sort of shrank down into her shirt. "I never had a boyfriend before. Before I got my squirrel spirit, I was the fat ugly blob in your grade no one wanted to talk to. And I had really ugly glasses, and I wasn't smart, or athletic, or anything. And my dad worked at the junkyard so everybody hated me."
Pythia sighed, "Oh dear. Look Anna, you didn't do anything wrong. This isn't your fault, and if your boyfriend can't get that through his thick head, he's a really sucky boyfriend, and you can do a lot better."
"Me? No way. I'm just an Underdog. I'm not an Exemplar or anything else cool."
Pythia said, "Okay, stop right there." Anna stood still. "No, I didn't mean stop walking. I meant stop dissing yourself. You do know nearly a third of the girls on this campus would cut their own leg off, if it meant they could look even as good as you or me, right?"
Anna looked at Pythia and said, "You look great! And you're way smarter than me, and everyone in the whole dorm looks up to you."
Pythia shook her head a little. "After we get your schedule for next year worked out, you're going to start going to a counselor regularly for your self-esteem issues."
"But I don't wanna waste their time, they have problem kids to handle, and sick kids, and kids who are crazy, and kids who really need help."
Pythia said, "And they have lots of kids who just need to talk to someone. You have low self-esteem." Anna started to say something, but Pythia held up a hand to stop her. "Lots of teenaged girls have low self-esteem. Even idiot educators who think 'just say no' is a decent way of handling drug problems know this much. Okay, they have no idea how to fix it, but they know it's there. And you need to talk to someone about it. I know from what the girls say that you can't talk to anyone in your family about it." Anna just shrugged unhappily. "And I know you hang out with the Underdogs, which is pretty much the Low Self-Esteem Team, so you won't be getting adequate help there either. I want you to see a counselor about this."
Anna made herself say, "Okay. I guess so." But she mostly said it because she knew that was what Pythia wanted her to say, and she didn't want Pythia to hate her.
Pythia walked her into the Admin building and over to the counselor offices. She asked, "Hi Valerie, is there anyone free really soon? Aquerna here has a time-critical problem with her powers."
Anna muttered, "Really, we can come back later if no one has time."
"No we can't," insisted Pythia. "If no one's available now, we'll sit and wait for someone."
"But what about your classes?" Anna fretted.
"My classes are fine right where they are," Pythia said. She looked at the expression on Anna's face and said, "Look, most of my classes are morning classes, so I can do this kind of job for the dorm. I don't have a fourth period class, and I can skip a day in my fifth period class. I can wait."
Anna winced at that, because she did have a fourth period class, and sensei Ito wouldn't like her missing it. Even if she had an excuse. And she wouldn't like missing it. Even if she was still mad at Phase for being mean to Chou. Anna was sure it wasn't because of the whole Chou-and-Molly-and-Dorjee thing, or Ayla wouldn't have invited them all along on that trip. And it wasn't like Ayla was all 'normal girl' herself, since she was having a thing with Vox and had a wiener instead of normal girl plumbing. Probably. At least, that was what everyone said.
So they sat there and waited for like fifteen minutes, which Anna didn't mind, but she really figured Pythia had somewhere more important to be than sitting around babysitting her when she was having a meltdown, only it was more like a meltdown than she wanted to think about, because parts of her had definitely been melting down while she was kissing Jerry, and just thinking about that was making her really hot and bothered. And embarrassed.
And then a boy she didn't know, even if she was pretty sure he was one of the Grunge guys, came out carrying a skateboard and said, "Thanks, doc. See ya next week."
And an old guy stepped to the door and said, "See you then. Take care."
The nice receptionist said, "Doctor Bellows, I know it's your lunch break, but Pythia just brought Aquerna in to see someone. She says it's time-critical, and about Aquerna's powers."
The doctor winced a little bit, and Anna worried she was maybe ruining his lunch hour or something important like that. He said, "Hello, Pythia. Maybe you can bring Aquerna in and tell me your version of things while I eat a quick bite, and then you can leave so I can chat with Aquerna. How's that sound?"
Anna winced because that meant she really was ruining his lunch hour. Pythia gave her a 'don't do that' kind of look, and led her in.
The room was nice. There was a friendly desk, instead of the big 'sit way over there' kind of desk Mrs. Hawkins had. The chairs looked comfy, and there was even a couch over by the wall.
Uh-oh. Was she going crazy? She thought only crazy people had to lie on the couch and let the psychiatrist analyze what was wrong with them.
Doctor Bellow put out his hand and asked, "Can we shake hands? Let me warn you that I have a low-level psychic ability that lets me see something of the stressful moments of your life. Some people are bothered by that."
Anna turned beet red and jerked her hand back as fast as she could. She practically jumped behind Pythia. "I... umm... Well, I... Idon'twantyoutoseehowawfulIam!"
He smiled gently and said, "That's okay. And I promise I won't judge you or yell at you."
Pythia said, "It's her power. She's an Avatar, and she didn't get signed up for Powers Theory or Avatars I, so this hit her as a huge surprise, and she's not dealing."
Doctor Bellows spun around in his chair and typed on his computer for a few seconds. Then he looked at the screen. "Aquerna. Anna Parsons. Avatar-1. Squirrel spirit. Hmm. Good grades, good behavior, good scholarship... Very good on scholarship." Anna blushed. "Security reports: victim, victim, rescuer, rescuer, rescuer, victim, rescuer, rescuer..."
He turned back to face them. "And which power problem did she find?" He looked at Anna, whose face was burning so red it felt like she was on fire. "And no one prepared her for this? We are falling down on the job. Who was it?"
Anna squeaked, "My boyfriend. Hazmat. Jerry. I sort of... climbed all over him in the hallway outside his lab and Erlenmeyer found us but I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't walked up and been a total meanie about it and made fun of us because I kind of... went into heat. I guess. I mean, I looked it up, and checked with my little friends, and this isn't when squirrels do the mating thing! I thought I'd be doing the eating too much thing, so I've been watching my weight, but I didn't think... Umm..."
Doctor Bellows listened, and finally said, "Has anyone talked to you about how animal spirits adapt to their Avatar hosts?"
"Umm, no?"
He closed his eyes and sighed. "We have to handle this better in future. You're the third student this year with one of the classic problems and no one preparing them. I'm really sorry about this."
"It's not your fault! You're being really nice!" Anna said.
He smiled a little. "Thank you for saying so, but this is something we need to get a better grasp on." He turned back to his monitor. "Let me see... Ahh. Mrs. Hawkins." He made a note in his notebook. He said, "Now let me explain something. When an animal goes into season-"
"Season?" shrieked Anna. "I'm gonna be like this all season long? Spring doesn't end for months! Am I gonna have to wear a chastity belt or something for like three months?"
"I'm sorry, it's a technical term. It doesn't mean you'll be like this for a season like spring or summer." Anna sighed in relief. "But your animal goes into... heat at a particular time to ensure live birth at a particular time of the year, when it's most beneficial for the species. For squirrels, I suppose it would be mid-winter from what you said, so baby squirrels can be born in spring and have all year to mature before their first winter. For the Avatar of the squirrel spirit, it has to be a little different. Your 'little friends' as you say probably bear babies after what, about two months?"
Anna had to stop and think. The stuff she read said... umm... 33 days up to 60 days. And 60 days was... two months. "Yeah. One month for some of the small girls, and up to two months for some of the big girls."
He nodded. "But humans need nine months. And when I say nine months, I mean that when we talk about bearing a child to full-term, we talk about 37 to 42 weeks. So figure a little over nine months. Your squirrel spirit is trying to adapt its natural cycle to a human's body, and so you would have a baby at a time of the year that would work for a human's life. This is actually a good sign. It means you and your spirit are in tune, and it is trying to help you. If you were going into heat against your will and the spirit was fighting you, you would be much more likely to do this precisely when the squirrels were doing it."
"So, all that stuff I looked up? It's useless?" She nearly broke down and cried again.
He frowned a little. "I wouldn't say that, Aquerna. I would say that you need to take that Avatar course and learn how it applies, so that in future all that information will be useful."
"And I'm gonna be... going into heat every spring? For the rest of my life? What am I gonna do?" She couldn't stop the tears that leaked down her cheeks. "I don't wanna be like this! I feel all edgy and freaky, and I just kissed him and I totally lost all control and I went all skanky and slutty and it was the most embarrassing thing I ever did in my whole life, even worse than the time Bobby Hart pushed me in the pond when I was wearing my good party dress, and when Erlenmeyer tells everyone they'll all think I'm all sleazy and skanky and the girls'll all hate me and the boys'll be all creepy and stuff, and... and I don't know what to do!"
He handed her a box of tissues, and she started blowing her nose a lot, which was almost as embarrassing as all the crying she was doing, but she couldn't seem to make herself stop.
He said, "I think your emotions are out of control, so you're over-reacting. All the girls are going to understand about your squirrel spirit, especially after Pythia tells them that no one explained this to you. And all the boys should know better. You're not the first student who has gone into heat. Not even this term. It's a problem most of the school year. We have enough Avatars and enough animal-GSD cases that it's something everyone around school has probably dealt with more than once. Even the freshman boys and girls. You're in Dickinson and you spend your time with the Underdogs, so you've been somewhat shielded from this issue. It's a lot more prevalent in Twain and Whitman and Hawthorne."
He paused a moment and said, "And you haven't done what most of our problem cases have done. You simply grew... over-exuberant with your boyfriend, and you were interrupted before things went too far. Right?" She nodded some.
He spent another ten minutes walking her through some relaxation exercises, until she was calmer and not ready to fly apart at the seams. Then he gave her two pieces of paper. She was kind of surprised when she saw what they were.
He smiled a little at her reaction. "Yes. That's a 'get out of jail free' card." She knew about Monopoly, so she smiled at that. It was a permission slip saying she had a reason to miss her classes for today. "The other is a prescription. I want you to go right over to the clinic. They'll give you three shots. One's a sedative, because you really need that right now. Then there's an injectable deviser drug that's excellent for birth control in female Avatars, and it will hold you through your next two periods. The third one is a drug that will depress your hormonal levels, so you won't be getting aroused for a while. And the pills are more of the same, in a measured dose. Take one every morning with food, until your spirit stops sending you into heat. I'm sorry, but you won't be getting aroused at all until we stop the dosage. So dating your boyfriend is going to be... different."
Anna looked down at her hands and said, "Umm, that's okay I guess. We mostly just talk and go out to dinner. But do you mean I won't like kissing him anymore?"
"No, I mean that kissing him won't be as pleasurable as it normally is. You're going to have to tell him about this, so he's prepared for the change in your reaction. Otherwise, he might get his feelings hurt. Boys are more sensitive about things like this than they want to admit. And you're going to have to have a talk with him about what happened today, so he doesn't get the wrong idea about you."
Anna was so ashamed at the idea of having that kind of talk with Jerry that it felt like her face was on fire. And not in the 'I am now going into heat like a squirrel' way. No, it was more the 'I would rather sit next to Nate after he eats chili than talk to Jerry about this' way.
He said, "If you don't think you can talk to your boyfriend about this, then talk to Pythia, and have her help you out. This is important."
"O-okay. But I don't think he's gonna want to be my boyfriend anymore after this morning. I was so awful..." She had to blow her nose again, and she almost started crying again. She sort of felt like she hadn't done anything except cry and have a runny nose since she ran away from Jerry.
He just said, "Aquerna, you're an attractive, intelligent young lady. I think that having one moment of trouble with your powers is not going to ruin everything. If that was the case, then there wouldn't be a single student on campus who still had a boyfriend or girlfriend. Remember that most students come to Whateley specifically because they need to learn to control their powers."
"Okay." But she just said that because she knew he wanted her to say it. She didn't really believe it. It wasn't like she was one of the campus pretties. There were like a hundred fifty girls on campus who were prettier than her and sexier than her, and even some of the GSD cases like Diamondback were really pretty, and she just knew Jerry could find someone better than her if he wanted to.
When they were done talking, she walked out of his office and found Pythia was waiting for her! "What are you doing here?"
Pythia just looked up from her book and said, "Doing my English homework." She showed Anna the book, and it was 'Moby Dick'. Anna knew it was about some guys in a whaling ship fighting a white whale that kills pretty much everybody at the end of the book, but that was about all. She was pretty sure the Star Trek captain guy did a movie of it a couple years ago, but she hadn't watched it.
Anna said, "That wasn't what I meant."
Pythia smiled at her. "I know. I figured you'd need some moral support, so I'm here to walk you over to the clinic."
Anna stared at the carpet and said, "That's really nice of you. I mean-"
"Relax, will you? Most of the stuff Mrs. Nelson asks me to do is no fun at all. Arbitrating arguments between two bitchy girls who won't back down and may rip the building apart at any second. Running around finding people who don't want to be found. Getting people to go somewhere they don't want to go. This is way nicer."
"Okay. I guess."
So as they walked over to the clinic, Pythia told her about having to get two roommates to agree to a truce after they nearly beat each other senseless over whether one roommate damaged the other roommate's stuffed animal. Pythia was really careful not to name names or even tell enough stuff for Anna to figure out who it was, but she was pretty sure it wasn't anyone on her floor. But it sure sounded like Pythia could've used a lot more PK power than she had, when those two roommates started tussling in the middle of things. Anna had seen what a couple bricks could do when they got mad at each other, so she was glad she didn't have Pythia's job.
At the clinic, a nice nurse took her back to an examining room, and she didn't even have to get all undressed and put on one of those awful hospital gown things that left your butt hanging out the back. She only waited three or four minutes, and a lady doctor came in, wearing a spotless white labcoat that was totally unlike the things she'd seen the devisers wear down in the Workshop. She also had really, really long hair that looked perfect. Anna wondered how she kept it looking so good all day.
Well, she wondered right up until the hair start moving around all by itself. She nearly jumped off the table when the hair picked up the clipboard with the papers on it and held it where the lady could read it.
The lady smiled at her and said, "Hi. I'm Dr. Tenent. You can call me Ophelia, if that would make you feel better. Or Caduceus."
"Umm, Doctor Tenent is okay."
The lady doctor said, "I hear you've had a very bad day. I'm going to give you a sedative and a hormone depressant and a shot of Deprovestia for birth control, and give you a prescription for pills to take every morning with food so they don't upset your stomach. Got that?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Now we don't have your parents' permission on the birth control, but your parents signed off on giving Whateley administration full in loco parentis and your housemother did give her permission, so this is completely okay. If it's okay with you. Do you have any moral or religious objections to taking a birth control shot?"
Anna couldn't really think of any. Mainly it was that nice girls weren't supposed to take birth control and her mom would be mad at her about it if she found out. But she wasn't a nice girl anymore, because she was going into heat and jumping on guys like someone even worse than Cytherea. And she didn't know if she'd ever even get to see her mom ever again. She said, "No." But tears started leaking out of her eyes again and she had to blow her nose some more.
The doctor said, "Would you rather roll up your sleeves or slip off your blouse? I'm going to give you one shot in each bicep and one small shot in your left forearm."
After what she'd done, she felt really icky about even thinking about taking her clothes off, so she rolled up both her sleeves as much as she could. The shots didn't hurt too bad, but it was really weird having a dozen strands of long hair helping her lay down on the examining table. The doctor just smiled at her expression and said, "Don't worry, I keep my hair really clean."
"Umm, okay."
Then the doctor said, "I'm setting up an appointment for you with a clinic counselor about choosing some longer-term birth control that will work with your Avatar spirit, and that's going to be... let's see... is tomorrow at eleven okay?" Anna nodded, and the doctor said, "Now I'm going to let one of your friends come back here to sit with you, and I want you to lay down here for one hour. I'll come back and check on you now and then, but I want the sedative to take effect before you leave, because you're a bundle of nerves right now."
She pouted, "I can't help it. I've been... I was... It was awful! And everybody's gonna know about it in no time!" Tears began streaming out of the corners of her eyes, leaking across her cheeks, and even into one of her ears, which was really weird and not comfortable.
The hairs handed her several tissues, and she even said thank you to the hair, which made her feel stupid because she should've said it to the doctor.
So it was a huge relief when Ree came rushing in and gave her a huge hug, which was kind of awkward since she was lying on her back and her upper arms were pretty sore from the shots and stuff. "Ree! I'm so glad you're here!"
Ree watched as the doctor patted her on the shoulder with another chunk of hair too and walked out, telling her to let Anna rest and just sit with her, and she'd be back to check on Anna in a while. Then Ree said, "Mrs. Savage said you needed some help and I should come over here right away, and something happened today. Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Did Buster beat you up? Come on, gimme a hint here!"
Anna whimpered. Just a little bit. "Please don't be mad at me."
"Why would I be mad at you?"
Anna said, "Remember my New Years resolutions? Not to eat too much when my squirrels came out of hibernation, and..."
"Oh my God!" Ree gasped. "You... did?" Anna nodded miserably. "You went into heat?"
Anna whimpered, "I've been feeling all edgy and weird for a couple days, but I didn't know what it was, and then I went down to see Jerry to see if he needed me to bring him some lunch, and we kissed, and... bam! I totally jumped all over him, just like a big ol' skanky ho. Right there in the hallway! I ripped his labcoat, and I wrapped my legs around him, and gave him a... you know, and... Oh jeez, I have no idea what would've happened if someone hadn't walked out into the hall and seen us. And it was Erlenmeyer, and I just know he'll blab about it to the whole Workshop, and everyone'll think I'm a skanky slut. And I'm not! And Doctor Bellows says it's my squirrel spirit and someone should've told me all about this ahead of time, like last September, and I'm just so embarrassed I could scream!"
Ree hugged her again, and said, "But it's not your fault. And you didn't do anything, right? Just kissing him?"
Anna winced, "And doing the grinding-the-hips thing. Right into his..."
"Did he have a hardon?" Ree whispered naughtily.
"Totally," Anna winced again. "And I was so hot I think I just about melted my jeans, and then when I realized what I was doing, I was so ashamed I just ran, and I don't even know where I ran, I just ended up back at Dickinson, and I lost my coat and my backpack and my purse and everything, and I'll never pass all my classes without my notes for studying, and Jerry'll probably never speak to me again!" She sobbed miserably for a while, and Ree held her hand and told her it would be okay, and after a while she must've cried herself to sleep.
When she woke up again, she was still laying down on the not real comfortable table, and Ree was sitting in a chair with a little light on, reading what looked like a Reader's Digest.
Ree looked up and smiled. "Feeling better?"
"Sorta groggy, but yeah."
Ree checked her watch. "Come on. Doctor Tenent the lady with the weird hair gave me your prescription." She patted a pocket, and Anna could hear the faint clinking of pills in a plastic bottle. "We can go back to the dorms before dinner."
Anna winced. "I dunno if I wanna go to dinner tonight. After today, a lot of people might've heard, and it might get icky."
Ree said, "Anna! You gotta eat. Pythia said you missed lunch, and you're gonna feel a lot worse if you miss dinner too. Besides, we're off to the side on the bottom floor, and all the mean jerks are upstairs. Or way off at that side table. No one'll bother us. Except while we're in line." Ree cringed when she realized she shouldn't have said that, so she added, "And you can skip that if you really want to, and we can get stuff for you. We all know what you like. Okay?"
"I guess so," Anna said unhappily.
"And we won't let Nate pick anything out," Ree smiled.
Anna didn't want to giggle, but she did. She wanted to be sad and angry and miserable and ashamed and stuff, but Ree was really funny. Plus, she remembered the weird bean burrito casserole Nate had picked out for Mindy the last time they did something like this. Nate was just sort of magically attracted to beans, or something. Okay, Mindy said it tasted a lot better than she thought it would and she thanked Nate and all, but everyone knew Nate would pick out something like chili or the three-bean salad or bean enchiladas. She got up and hugged Ree and said, "You're the best friend ever, you know that?"
Ree grinned and said, "Well sure, that's my superpower. Captain Sparklehand, the dreaded friendmaker."
Anna giggled again and let Ree walk her off to Dickinson. She walked in, and found Mrs. Nelson waiting for her with her coat and her backpack. "Here you go, Anna. Your purse is safe inside the pack, too."
"Oh my gosh, how'd that happen?" Anna asked.
A voice behind her said, "When you ran off, you left 'em on the floor."
Anna gulped. It was Jerry! She turned around nervously, figuring he'd be really mad at her.
He handed her one white rose, still unopened. "I figured you needed something, after today went so off the rails for you. After you ran off and I came out of my daze, Erl just had to tell me the whole thing. Like I hadn't been there. And that was when I figured it out, what with you being an Avatar for a squirrel spirit. So I threatened Erl a bunch, and I picked up your stuff, and I brought it back over here. But you were already gone to Shuster. So I went and did class stuff and waited until Pythia called me, and then I came right over."
She sobbed, "Jerry, I'm so, so sorry."
He opened up his arms, and she jumped in for a big hug. He said, "It's not your fault, sweetie. And it'll be okay."
"But Erlenmeyer will blab about it to everybody!"
He said, "Not if he knows what's good for him. I told him if anybody heard about it at all, I was going to tell Jobe that Erl said he was going to slip her some rohypnol and 'tap that'. Erl's afraid Jobe will believe me, since Erl's been a huge asshole to her about the whole Drow thing and how big her boobs got, and her butt, and her legs, and everything. And you know Jobe would do something gruesome to Erl. Maybe Drow him. Or turn him into a big spider. Or something even worse. So Erl's going to keep his big mouth shut." Jerry hugged her a little harder and whispered, "Besides, Erl likes you a lot better than he likes me."
She hugged him back and tried not to be weepy. But she finally believed things would be okay.
Except, oh gosh, she still had to tell him about the hormone suppressing stuff!
finis
"WHO has deactivated my BEAUTIFUL frogs?"
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| | Topic: To Know Your Heart |
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| To Know Your Heart [message #48592] |
Sun, 20 November 2011 16:15 |
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Diane Castle
Messages: 2505
Registered: September 2007
Location: Oregon, USA |
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TO KNOW YOUR HEART
a Whateley Universe tale
by Starwolf
Monday, January 15, 2007
Montana
Winter in the northwestern Montana mountains is a time of deep cold and snow. It's also a good place to hide from the world. Unless of course you have relatives like mine. Hiding from them is nigh impossible. Even in the Spirit World where many wouldn't or couldn't follow. The Northern Lights were putting on a spectacular display. It was one of the excuses I'd used to come here. That and to be as alone as possible for a while.
But at least Uncle Coyote had backed me up and was willing to hang back a bit and give me the illusion of actually being alone and not closely watched by at least one of the adults all the time. You'd think they were sure I was going to run off and maybe kill myself at any moment. I hadn't had a moment completely to myself ever since I'd climbed out of the Cessna at Babb Airport. Of course the screaming nightmare I'd had that evening hadn't helped any either. Between the nightmares and flashbacks I had just about everyone, including the kids, worried about me.
Most of my experiences at Whateley could only be described as great and wonderful. I'd spent most of my life away from 'civilization' in the northwest. Montana, Idaho, and a bit of Alberta and British Columbia. In many ways going off to school had been a real adventure. Around Halloween it got a little too adventurous.
Just thinking about that got me sweating and another flashback came from where I'd pushed it away in my mind.
Halloween. At Whateley. Most of the kids were off having a good time at the main party. But a lot of the kids in Hawthorne couldn't go. So me and some of the other less challenged kids from Twain and Whitman had gotten together to see if we couldn't at least have a little fun where we were. It meant missing the big party but ever since I'd been tapped to be a Lieutenant in the Hawthorne Irregulars I'd felt it was my duty to look after these guys. Besides. I really wasn't into big uncomfortable crowds anyway.
Everything was going okay until the lights flashed off and on. In moments the auxiliary generators had kicked in so there wasn't any interruption in the necessary life support systems and the like but at the same time Foob, who was entertaining us all with a scary story, let out a pained yell and disappeared. I also became aware of a sound that was uncomfortable to my enhanced hearing and I knew would have been much worse if I'd been in my other forms. Something was terribly wrong and I had a very bad feeling about it.
Just then Mrs. Cantrel flew into the main entry lounge. "Is everyone okay? Where's Louis? The power went out and all my accesses to the rest of the campus and outside are not working. I need Louis to check this out."
No one else said anything for a moment so I did. "He was here right up until the lights went out. Then he yelled like he was in pain and disappeared. I think someone needs to check on him. I can go do that now."
"You do that Miss Woolfe. Mr. Pearce. Would you please run over to Administration and see if they have any information?"
Jim Pearce, or Sectipede as everybody called him, was a GSD case in Twain with six odd legs and then a fairly normal torso. He didn't have much in the way of powers except he could run fast and climb good. He'd make an excellent courier and should get an answer fast.
Jim got up and scuttled for the front door while I headed for the basement. He'd already reached the door before I was halfway to the stairs. Something in the way he was acting after he opened the door drew my attention back to him. He was just standing in the doorway looking out with it half open. He glanced back into the room.
"Hey! There's guys out here and they have gu... Ahhh!"
It took a moment to process what was happening. I saw Jim jerk back and saw and heard the bullet as it hit him on his left upper torso. At the same time as he spun back and into the room I heard two thwacks that sounded like something hitting the door. There were several more sounds of something hitting it as it snapped closed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Mrs. Cantrel had hit a button on her chair which probably explained the door snapping shut so fast without anyone's help.
Suddenly I was back in the Spirit World equivalent of the mountains of northern Montana. My heart was racing and I was sweating even in the subzero temperatures. The Northern Lights had just outdone themselves, producing a near fireworks level of brightness. Just without the booming noise. Instead there was the quiet comforting sounds of a light wind moving over the snow and through the trees. It calmed my heart down. I was vaguely aware of Uncle Coyote a short ways away from me and that was a little comforting in itself. My mind wandered back to what was bothering me.
That had been the first big shock. I'd grown up in a military family. Stories of fighting and the results of such activities were hardly rare. But those obviously edited stories and war movies I'd seen hadn't done such things, or the shock of seeing them, justice. Sitting there on my skies, knees pulled tight to my chest I tried to let the Northern Lights cleanse the memories from my head but all they did was bring more memories to the surface.
At the same time Jim went down an alarm went off. It was the one that told everyone to look out for trouble and hunker down where they were if they could. We had regular drills on the various alarms. We'd even had a few real alerts in the time I'd been here. I had to assume that Mrs. Cantrel had hit the lock-down button and hopefully sealed whoever was shooting out of the building.
Jim was curled up moaning in front of the door and I could smell the fear, pain, and blood. I was frozen there watching until Mrs. Cantrel shouted at me.
"Stella! Get Louis!"
"Y... Yes Ma'am!"
With a start I jumped towards the basement and headed down as Mrs. Cantrel sent someone for the first aid kit and got some of the others either looking for ways to further block the doors or help poor Jim. In moments I'd reached Foob's room. But it was pretty obvious that he wasn't going to be much help for now. He lay in the bottom of his tank twitching but not doing anything else. I did check his monitors to make sure he was okay but nothing I tried seemed to be able to wake him out of whatever kind of twitching seizure he was in. Realizing that I couldn't help here I headed back upstairs to report.
As soon as I came up I could see that Mrs. Cantrel was organizing things well. When she saw me she motioned me over to where she was busy directing the girl we called Big Mary - who was currently going by the name Titania - in the proper way to bind up Jim's wound. Big Mary was over ten feet tall and very shy at most times but she seemed to be handling the pressure well right now. She'd been a total recluse when she first came in. Some problems with her family if the rumors were true. She'd been stuck with the name Titania because she wouldn't talk to anyone when she first got here, but had since been trying to get it her code name changed to Fire Forge. It fit her better. But you usually had a hard time changing your code name so it was taking time to make it official. The fact that many of the elf types were protesting about a giant named Titania also was helping the process along though. I looked at what they were doing for Jim and a shudder went down my spine.
I'd seen enough killing and wounding before. I'd been a hunter and fisher for as long as I could remember. But aside from the time one of my cousins broke his arm in one of our games I'd never seen someone badly hurt before and it made me a bit queasy. Before I could think too much about what I was seeing, Mrs. Cantrel got my attention.
"Louis?"
I shook my head. "I.. I think he's okay but whatever it was that hit him he's not coming out of it any time soon I think."
"Damn! I was hoping we'd be able to use him. It would be nice to have Slab or Jimmy T here too but with them at the party I might as well wish for the moon. Dammit! Oh well. Alright everyone! Listen up!"
Even though I was shocked to hear Mrs. Cantrel swear like that I still listened to what she was saying.
"We're under attack. Now don't panic. This building's built specially, and can hold up to a lot. Still, we need to prepare for the worst. Anyone who can, needs to arm or prepare for a fight. We'll need to cover all the doors and possibly the windows. Anyone who can, needs to get back to here. Those that can't need to seal themselves into their rooms. Don't come out till it's clear. Got that? Good! Now go!"
I knew I had weapons in my room, including a Marlin lever action .30-.30 my family had given to me as a gift when I left home. I'd even had a chance to fire it a few times at the ranges. I rushed to my room, which was on the first floor. I was the only occupant so a lot of my stuff was stored on the other bed. Including my rifle and some extra stuff I didn't normally need.
I didn't think I had time to get into my fighting suit but I grabbed the bag anyway because my knives were in it. I also grabbed my medicine bag and spear along with the rifle and bag.
I took the time to load the rifle with its maximum five rounds plus one in the chamber, and looked around quickly to see if I'd need anything else. I also glanced out the window and saw what looked like three men in some kind of body armor setting up what looked like a machine gun. From that position they could cover the front and my side of the building.
The shutters hadn't closed down over my window yet so either they were blocked or Mrs. Cantrel hadn't activated them. I realized I was in a pretty good position to take a shot at them so I dropped the other stuff near the door and went to the window. It was easy enough to open and then I aimed at the three men.
But I couldn't bring myself to just shoot them without warning. When I realized that, I chose to fire a warning shot instead. Choosing a tree next to them I put a round into its trunk. All three dove to the ground and I quickly put two rounds into the bi-podded machine gun. Then the lever on the rifle jammed.
I stepped back and to the side by reflex as I tried to clear the jammed lever. The moment I did that the side of the window sill exploded at head level, spraying me with painful chips and slivers. Lucky for me I had my head down looking at the lever or I'd have caught some in my eyes. Two more bullets quickly followed, smashing through the panes and thudding into the door across the room.
I stood there, my back to the wall, staring at the bullet holes in the door. Several thoughts were rushing back and forth through my head.
I'd nearly died. Whoever was shooting had barely missed me. If my lever hadn't jammed and I hadn't stepped back I'd have been hit. Not only the window but the door was covered. I didn't think I could open it fast enough to duck out into the hall.
These thoughts kept chasing themselves through my head. Over, and over, and over. I don't know how long I stood there. But it must have been several minutes where I couldn't move.
Another brilliant flash of colorful lights brought me back to the mountains. For a few moments I was lost in the celestial wonder in front of me as I desperately tried to not remember what had happened. But the harder I tried the more the memories forced their way back. Jamming my head between my knees only cut out some of the celestial display in front of me. That didn't help keep the memories at bay.
There was some kind of explosion above me outside Hawthorne. Otherwise my paralysis would probably have gone on indefinitely. Whatever it was it shook up whatever had kept my shutter from closing and it slammed into place. The sudden sound shocked me from my stupor and in the next moments I finally jacked the lever on the rifle closed. Picking up my other equipment I headed for the lobby.
When I got there I found everyone else had already been organized into defensive positions. We could hear shots and explosions coming from outside but couldn't see out at what was going on. Jim was bandaged up and Big Mary was watching over him and it didn't look like anyone else was hurt. I moved towards Mrs. Cantrel who was talking with some of the others.
She looked up at me and then did a double take. "Stella! What happened to your face?"
Putting my hand to the side of my face I felt pain and when I pulled my hand back I realized there was blood on it. I hadn't even realized in my shock that the right side of my face was bleeding. Before I could register more than that Mrs. Cantrel had pulled everything but my rifle from my hands and pushed me into a chair. I couldn't make my hand release the rifle though. It took several more moments and the concerted effort of two of the students to get my hand to open. While they were doing that Mrs. Cantrel had been examining my head and right shoulder.
"Hmmm. It looks nastier than it is. But scalp wounds are like that. You have a good healing factor and if we get these slivers out now I expect you'll be fine very soon. Mary? Be a dear and hand me some tweezers please."
Mary handed over a small roll of cloth which had several small metal instruments in it. One of these was a large set of tweezers which Mrs. Cantrel began to use quickly and efficiently.
"Now I don't have time to use pain killers so you'll just have to grin and bear it. It will be over soon so don't flinch so much. Good! Good. Now let me clean these out a bit and then I can bandage them. It doesn't look like you'll need stitches at least but if your tetanus isn't up to date I suspect you'll need a booster. Tell me. How did this happen?"
I gave a hurried explanation as she bandaged me. It hurt, but I had other thoughts on my mind. But I wasn't about to tell anyone about them. Not the fact that I'd frozen.
Soon enough I was as bandaged as I could be. Mrs. Cantrel had me go and get dressed in my battle clothing before assigning me to help cover the rear entrance. Nothing else happened for a while. I was really worried about Jim. Mrs. Cantrel assured me he would be okay when I asked her but I could tell she was worried. I offered to try some healing spells but she was pretty sure we needed to be prepared for an attack so I went back to watching the back entrance.
After what seemed like forever the fighting outside seemed to quiet out a bit. Eventually Mrs. Cantrel's radio started to work again and we learned that between the efforts of some of the students, staff, and an ARC Fast Response Team the bad guys had been driven off. We were instructed to stay in Hawthorne until all the cleanup was finished.
Mrs. Cantrel told them about Jim and whoever she was talking to told her a medical team would be sent over as quickly as possible but it still might be a while because of the situation.
The Lights drew my attention back to the present. Waiting like that, not knowing exactly what was going on had seemed to take forever. That was what I remembered most about the aftermath. Watching the Northern Lights I was able to ignore the rising memories for a time. But I'm the kind who worries at stuff until it's done and eventually the memories worked their way back. They just refused to be ignored.
When Mrs. Cantrel finally gave us the okay to go out, she had the emergency team rush me and Jim over to the medical building. I was fine but Jim was in bad shape. And he wasn't the only one. One in particular caught my attention. Caitlyn McMasters. I'd known her from the times I'd gone to the ranges to practice with my ranged weapons. By listening in to the people talking around her body I learned she'd been killed by a sniper while trying to take out something on top of Hawthorne. I'd learn later that it was the thing that took down Foob. It was probably the attempts to take that out which ended up dropping the shutter on my window and bringing me out of my paralysis. I don't think anyone noticed how I froze up for a little longer as I realized how close I'd come to sharing her fate. From that moment on I'd been aware of a part of me that couldn't let it go. And the flash backs and nightmares began.
Eventually the doctors and healers were able to help Jim and he recovered. But not everyone involved made it. I saw several bodies come through while they treated me. Some of the others I'd known as well as Miss McMasters. That cold part of me just got colder.
After they were sure I'd be okay they asked me to help where I could. I had a good background in emergency medicine. At least for minor things, and I was even able to put together a few minor healing spells to help out. Some of that Shaman training was actually coming in handy and it distracted me from my own feelings. At least for a while.
Over time the feeling of depression grew in me and even now the cheerful lights couldn't seem to light up the shadows in my soul. I'd survived. Barely in my opinion. It had been a close thing. Even if my healing factor would make sure there wasn't any physical evidence of it I realized I still had scars that couldn't be seen.
The rest of the semester passed normally, or at least what passed for normal at Whateley. But I couldn't shake a cloud that seemed to haunt me constantly. We received some counseling but I was sure others needed it more than I did and I couldn't bring myself to really talk about what had happened to me. I think they knew something was up but couldn't figure out what it was.
In time it seemed to fade a bit but when I got home on Christmas Break it suddenly came back worse than before. I couldn't sleep well and had some nasty nightmares. The flashbacks got worse and harder to ignore. Those in the know sagely talked of post traumatic stress disorder. But I knew what the real problem was. I just couldn't bring myself to admit it to anyone.
Break passed too quickly but I couldn't bring myself to make up my mind and do anything. Everyone was getting more and more worried and all I wanted to do was hide. But time wasn't on my side.
I had to make a decision and it had to be soon. I'd already missed a week of school and if I didn't get back soon there wouldn't be any reason to try. But every time I thought about what happened last Halloween I just froze up inside.
Sure, I'd gotten a lot of sympathy and everyone was very understanding. Post traumatic stress syndrome and all that. My parents told me the school was willing to make allowances for all that and if I got back soon I'd be given a chance to make up what I'd missed and all would be well. But they didn't understand.
I was so upset and drawn into myself I didn't notice Uncle approaching. I didn't even realize he was there until he touched me on the shoulder with one of his ski poles.
My loud scream and flash of blade made his caution apparently very necessary. For the next few moments I had to struggle with exploding emotions that were nearly uncontrollable in their power and fierceness. He carefully stood back while my growls subsided and I got my emotions under control. He didn't move until I'd sheepishly put my knife away.
The tears streaming down my face were quickly freezing but I didn't care about them any more. My emotions were too spent for me to even bother to try and wipe them off.
Uncle Coyote's clear deep voice brought my attention back to him before my mind had a chance to wander far though. For a person who could be totally inconspicuous or invisible when he wanted to be, he could also be one of the most powerful and forceful presences when he wanted. He was doing that now and I wasn't in any shape to resist his towering and forceful personality.
"Okay niece. You've given us all the old cock and bull stories about what happened to you. Now I want to hear the truth."
"I... I did tell you the truth."
"Yeah. I'm sure you did. But not all the truth. What you've told us so far covers what happened around you. But it doesn't cover what happened to you."
"I told everyone. The guys attacked. I got off a few shots and then got pinned down in my room by a sniper. That's all."
Uncle's eyes bored into me. Of all my relatives I think I'm most afraid of Uncle Coyote. You can't hide the truth from him. Somehow he can tell things about you you'd never guess he could find out. People remember him for all the tricks and the like he plays on everyone but they don't really give him a lot of credit for just how good at reading people he is. It's one of the reasons he's so good at tricking people. He knows them better than they know themselves. And there was something about myself I really didn't want him to know. Unfortunately, trying to hide something from him is like raising a red flag and yelling at him to come and get it. It didn't take long before I dropped my eyes in defeat.
"C'mon Stella. Let it out. I know it's in there and I'd rather not force it out. Just get it off that pretty little chest of yours."
The glare I threw him was laced with mortification, anger, and not a little pride. Though I'd never admit it openly I was starting to fill out a bit. I wasn't just a stick of a girl anymore and while I wasn't quite up in the ranks of a lot of the exemplar girls I had to admit to myself privately that I wasn't going to be a complete dog either. At least not all the time.
Calming myself and getting the fur to fade away took a few more minutes. Minutes I put to use trying to find a way to avoid what I knew was coming. I had to admit to myself now I'd made a mistake coming out here to be alone. Uncle had probably been waiting for the chance and I'd just given it to him. There was always the possibility he'd somehow arranged it too. It was a bit strange that none of the rest of the family was around right now to provide a distraction or reason not to talk. Sighing and giving in to the inevitable I finally faced what was bothering me. And nearly burst out into tears again.
By this time he'd moved close and put an arm around my shoulders. We squatted there on our skis and through the sobs I finally let out the pain I'd been carrying since that day. I tried to turn my face away so he couldn't see it but he gently and firmly turned my chin up so he could look into my eyes as I spoke.
For a moment I was sure I wouldn't be able to speak what I was feeling. I couldn't force the words out of my painfully constricted throat. But looking into his eyes I finally saw the very real concern he had and it somehow released the guard I'd kept on my thoughts for those many months.
"I... I froze up! I was scared! I... I... couldn't do anything! All I could think about was that if I stuck my head up he'd shoot it off! I didn't do anything but cower there! My friends got hurt, people got killed, and I didn't do a thing! I'm a coward!"
As I finally got those words out, the many tears I'd been holding back couldn't be restrained any more and with a howl that echoed through the mountains I collapsed into Uncle's arms and sobbed.
How long he held me there and let me cry my soul out I didn't know but when it was finally over I somehow felt as if a great pressure had been released from me. The part that had been frozen seemed to have thawed. I still hurt a lot but at least it didn't feel like it was filling me to a point the pain would never end and I'd die from it.
Then Uncle chuckled and anger came flooding back to fill the empty space. I tried to shove him away but it was useless. He was exerting a lot more power than I could right now and the best I could manage was to get an arms length away where I could see his face. What I saw there was enough to make my anger fade and stop my attempts to pull away.
Uncle was known for being a very practical and controlled person. But now, even though he was chuckling his eyes were filled with sadness. Sadness for me.
"But..."
He shook his head and pulled me back into a hug.
"No buts my young one. I understand. You're growing up now and it hurts. You're beginning to realize that you have limits and you're not sure how or if you can handle it. It's really not fair of us to expect you to simply know how to handle this. After all, you've never been in a situation where you weren't in control or at least someone you trusted was."
The anger was creeping back. And the fear.
"You... You mean it's okay to be a coward?"
I could feel him shaking his head.
"Not at all. Cowards are the most miserable of people. But then you aren't a coward."
"How can you say that? I froze up. I didn't do anything! All I was thinking about was myself! My friends were getting hurt and I didn't do a thing to help them. I was useless!"
"If you keep thinking of it like that you certainly will be. Either you'll never figure out what went wrong and stay frozen or you'll lose all common sense and do an even stupider thing and get yourself and others killed trying to compensate in some foolish heroic gesture. And it's not like you did nothing. Maybe you didn't shoot any of the bad-guys but if I remember right you did make that machine gun useless before you got pinned down. You'll probably never know how important that might have been."
He was right. After the fight someone had found the machine gun. One of my bullets had jammed the action so it couldn't operate. So some good might have come from that.
"I should've shot the bad-guys instead."
He nodded a little. Then cleared his throat.
"Maybe. Don't be so gung-ho about killing. It's not something to be proud of. I'm happier that you took out the gun. Remember that in the future before you shoot at someone. If it's necessary, you have to make it count. But don't think it's necessary to kill to get the job done. There will probably come a time when you can't avoid it but don't feel obligated to do so. Explore your other options if you possibly can."
He was right about that. I knew it. My two follow-on shots had damaged the machine-gun so it couldn't fire. But that had been luck as much as anything else. I hardly counted it in the bigger scheme of what went on that night.
"You don't understand."
"I don't? Really? Do you think you're the only one who's ever frozen up when threatened. Crapped and peed themselves? Run screaming in panic? Don't kid yourself kid. You're part of a long history of people including myself, your parents, and many other of the Kin and soldiers who've had as bad or worse reactions to danger like that."
I stiffened up in protest.
"That can't be right! You, the others, are Warriors! You've proven yourselves in battle. You haven't cowered while others you cared for got hurt while you did nothing."
He sighed.
"So sure are you little one. What do you really know about the rest of us? Sure, you've heard the stories about our great accomplishments and heroic feats but do you think that's all that has happened to us? We might not like airing our dirty laundry so I don't think we can be held at fault for that, but it doesn't mean we haven't got tons of the stuff hanging around waiting to be aired. I don't want to revisit it either or tell the others' stories for them so I'll just let you know I've had my less than sterling moments and leave it at that. But I do know what you mean. I've been there. And with that in mind I'm going to tell you a few things about yourself. Then you can decide what you're going to do about it."
"But..."
"Shush! I need to get this out fast so listen closely."
There was a feeling of dread in my heart but I nodded anyway.
"Good! Now, you seem to have a pretty good grasp of how to shoot rifles, pistols, bows and other stuff like that. We've seen to your training there. You also seem pretty good with knife and spear. All these things can be improved with more practice. But where we've failed you is in training you how to USE your weapons."
"But..."
"Don't interrupt! You need to hear this. Why do you think you froze up when that sniper pinned you down?"
I looked in his eyes and realized he was deadly serious. A shiver ran down my spine but I had to answer so I said the first thing that came to mind.
"I was scared. So scared I couldn't move. Or think."
He shook his head sadly. "No."
"But..."
"No. You froze because you had no training in how to handle such situations. Without training your instincts took over and the instinctive reaction was to stay still and not draw fire to yourself. It takes training to be able to act outside of instinct when you and others are threatened. I'd hoped they would've given you such training at the school we sent you to but it seems you spent your time reading books, doing sums, and learning useless languages."
Okay. That was upsetting. I'd been allowed to choose my own schedule last semester. Could I help it I needed to work on my basic learning skills? Sure I could read well, write some, and do basic arithmetic but I'd been totally behind on higher math, world history, writing, and other such skills. I'd been playing catch-up to everyone else. I had a real knack for biology but chemistry was a total mystery where the math was concerned. And Latin...
I sounded like I was whining even to myself but I couldn't stop either.
"Latin is not a useless language! It's the base for most modern languages used in the world today. Besides, Mrs. Grant says I have a real talent for languages and she wants me to study some more while I'm there. She says Shoshone, Cree, and Crow don't get college or academic credit either. Though I'm not sure why that is."
Uncle Coyote's face lightened a bit and he laughed. "Okay! Okay! Don't bite my head off! I'm not saying you can't study some of the things you seem to want to but I am putting my paw down and you are going to take some classes that I've worked out with Lodgeman that you need to take. And no arguments!"
The last cut off the reply I was preparing to make and I waited for his next words. He sighed after he was sure he'd made his point.
"Look. I've had some friends of mine look into it and it's pretty certain this last event at Halloween is probably not the only event you will face in your life. With that in mind you WILL take at least two classes each semester designed to see to it you won't be caught in a tight situation again without a clue as to what to do. This semester you will be taking a class on combat pistol and rifle handling and I'm recommending you to the higher martial arts level training also."
"But! I already KNOW how to shoot pistols and rifles good! Why should I waste time on those?"
I could see my lit classes going right out the window. They obviously wouldn't meet Uncle's approval and I only had so many hours in a day to use and as poor as I was in math I needed all the study time I could get for that.
"Kid. Like I said. You know how to shoot. But you don't know how to USE your weapons. If you did we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. These classes will show you how to use your weapons effectively in real life situations. Situations where a sniper is planning on blowing your head off. Not just pin you down. If you'd tried to shoot back I'm pretty sure we'd have attended your funeral last Halloween. Now listen to me. You don't have a choice in this. I've already made arrangements for you and I'll be monitoring you carefully. So don't try any funny business."
I have a bit of a stubborn streak so I wasn't giving up without at least a little fight.
"You're assuming I go back at all. What if I don't want to?"
He smiled. "Cause I know you. For all the problems with getting shot at I still remember some very animated stories about some of your friends there and some of the shenanigans you all got into. Somehow I don't see you missing out on that. At least as soon as you realize you've been beating up on yourself too much and get your head back on straight. Like I said before. You're no coward to run away from the challenge. But you do need some direction and that's what I'm here to give you. Now, what do you say? Shall we have a grand party to celebrate your heading off to school or shall we just sit here howling until time takes all choice away from us?"
Crud! Crud! Crud! He knew me too well. I had to admit when I thought of it that I really did want to get back and compare stories with the Lit Chicks. And we'd left off in the middle of a huge D&D campaign. I was kind of the odd one out seeing I was in Hawthorne and the others were off in Whitman but it hadn't stopped them from helping me with my writing. And they seemed to like my stories too. Of course their stories were great also so it wasn't a big sacrifice to get to hear and read those before anyone else. For one moment Stella seriously considered not going back just to be stubborn, but it didn't take long to realize she actually wanted to get back to school. Even if it did remind her of her cowardice. Maybe Uncle was right. Maybe with the proper training she'd have been able to DO something back then.
She almost jumped again. She'd been so deep in thought she was surprised when he touched her shoulder. One look in his eyes and she knew he knew what her answer was going to be. She sighed. "Okay Uncle. You win. I'll go back. But I AM going to continue with my Latin and other studies. I'll just have to work out a way to get them in around the other stuff you've planned."
He chuckled and stood up.
"That's my pup! Don't let them get you down! Get back there and learn what you need to learn. Then get back here pronto. I hate to say it but I'm getting older and I could always use some young blood to help keep my ideas original."
"You just need someone else who can move between the worlds like you around so they can't blame you because they're keeping their eyes on you and not watching for anyone else."
He smiled and nodded. "There is that. Have I mentioned how much harder it is to pull off a good joke around here if I'm the only one around doing it? They're all alert to my tricks. Having someone else to divert their attention would be a great help!"
Then he gave me a hard stare that made me flinch a bit. "You are keeping it a secret between us aren't you?"
"Yes Uncle."
"And you're keeping up on the studies and exercises I taught you?"
"Yes Uncle. I even got to use some of the healing you taught me. Miss Chulkriss mentioned she might be willing to teach me more if I wanted to."
He thought deeply for a moment and then nodded. "Good idea. You never know when having skills like that will come in handy. Just don't let them know about your spiritual traveling skills. That's a very important secret. Got me?"
I sighed, but then grinned. "Okay Uncle. Nice thing about Whateley is that with Silly Blue Bird around and Greasy and Peeper almost no one even thinks about me when tricks are going down."
"Silly Blue Bird? Do I want to know?"
"Oh. Yeah. He's a kid who's got Bluejay riding him. Jay gets a bit upset when I call him that in front of the others. Especially around Big Bear Thing."
"Big Bear Thing? Something else I should know?"
"Cody Wyatt. He's stuck with Big Kodiak Muck-a-Muck."
"Avatars huh? Well, be careful around them. With all that's going on right now we really don't need any political complications."
"You don't want me to trick them?"
"Oh! I didn't say that! Go right ahead. It'll be good practice even if they're fairly easy. Just don't go overboard and do anything it'll take Council action to clear up."
"Okay!"
It seemed like it had been ages but I suddenly felt like smiling. Even the thought of going back to the scene of my cowardice didn't faze me. If Uncle was right, and he was one of the few I trusted in such things, I might be able to overcome my problem and no one but us would ever need to be the wiser.
Then I noticed that Uncle was waiting and realized he was going to have me bring us back. He probably wanted to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. I was sworn to secrecy by my Uncle about my ability to move between the Spirit World and the Human World at will. Having someone as an ally around that no one else knew about who could travel like that to pull off some of his tricks was an ace up his sleeve he wasn't willing to part with just yet.
Concentrating, visualizing in my mind the chant and motions Uncle had taught me, I opened the way between and skied with him back to Montana where my family would be waiting for me to return from the mountains with my decision about school.
Look out world! Stella Woolfe was back! And looking for fun and adventure!
"WHO has deactivated my BEAUTIFUL frogs?"
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| | Topic: The Top Gear Get-Away Affair Teaser |
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| The Top Gear Get-Away Affair Teaser [message #48454] |
Fri, 18 November 2011 14:23 |
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E. E. Nalley
Messages: 603
Registered: July 2005
Location: Atlanta, GA |
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Canto I
The Mechanic's Daughter's Tale
January 28, 2007
Arena 99, Kane Hall Tunnels, Whateley Academy
Elaine lay on her back in a fantasy. Below her, riding softly on her anchor was a computer generated copy of her sail boat, Picket's Revenge. She was tucked quietly into a recreation of Ranger Cove off Lake Allatoona in a simulation of a perfect summer's day. A soft breeze hummed through the sloop's rigging even with her sails furled and reefed tightly. A few dozen yards away a family of Ants in a Chris Craft were swimming in the shallows of the cove while a barbecue on shore in the picnic area was painting the summer air with the sweet smell of baby back ribs brazing.
Ranger Cove had been Elaine's retreat since her father had given her the Catalina 27. Well, technically he'd given the sporty little twenty seven foot yacht to both of his children, but as usually happened when he tried to connect with his son, he'd found an eager and grateful apprentice sailor in his daughter and only vague disinterest from his son.
Steve had only set foot on the sail boat twice and then under coercion both times.
So Elaine had diligently learned to sail the fiberglass mono-hull that was older than her parents by herself, to be content in her own company and, when faced with a difficult decision, she came here. A Southern Girl in every sense of the word, Elaine fled to her roots and her favorite time of the year to try and decide when and how she would face Kodiak. Clad only in a bikini top and a pair of cutoffs, Elaine looked up at the clouds drifting by her mast and day dreamed. The fiberglass of the foredeck of the little yacht was warm against her skin and if she let herself, she could almost believe she was where the arena was trying so diligently to convince her she was.
"Oh...my...God, I'm going to melt!" declared a strident voice from the boat's little cabin beneath her.
Loophole sighed. "Hello, Jo."
"Is this a sauna?" the Alaskan demanded as she clamored up the companionway into the cockpit of the little yacht, shedding layers of winter clothing as fast as she could. "Or are you trying to acclimatize yourself to hell?"
"Welcome to the South," drawled the red head with a quirked smile. "Or at least the best recreation thereof." She paused for a moment as Murphy carefully made her way forward clearly uncomfortable on the narrow, moving boat.
"How long have you been a masochist?" Gunnarson demanded.
"There are lots of folks who consider this vacation worthy past times," Elaine shot back testily. "You lost," she added after a long moment.
"You assume we're playing the same game," the pale skinned girl shot back. The two girls smiled at each other and fell into a companionable silence for several minutes. "Your first, huh?"
"Yeah."
"How was it?"
"That's a little personal, don't ya'll think?" Elaine exclaimed.
"Like you're not dying to talk to somebody about it," Murphy snorted. "That fake sun isn't full spectrum, is it? Am I gonna get sunburned out here?"
"Ah never have," the other replied. After a long moment she looked out over the lake towards the Dam and finally said, "It wasn't floating on the ceiling on a pile of rose petals, if that's what you mean." Murphy merely waited until, just over the lapping of the lake against the hull came, "...but it was close."
A single eyebrow ascended Murphy's forehead and disappeared under her purple colored bangs. "My, my, aren't we the stud?" Elaine's fist shot out and tagged the younger Alaskan in the shoulder. "Ow! Watch it, Exemplar girl!"
"Sorry," the other mumbled, her face bright scarlet from blushing.
Joann sat up and looked around while rubbing her shoulder to take the sting from it. "I wouldn't have thought of you as a boat bimbo, but knowing you now, I'm sure you know everything about this pile of rope and plastic."
"Fiberglass," corrected Nalley, one corner of her mouth up in a smirk. "Mah dad was in the Navy and even after he got out, well let's just say Ah grew up on the water. Picket's Revenge here was one of his many tries to connect with Steve."
"This is a real boat?" the other demanded.
"It's a copy of mah real boat," Elaine elaborated. "Steve wasn't interested so she's mine by default. Let's me get alone time and think things out." She sighed again and stood up. "Ah'm thirsty, ya'll want a beer?"
"Never mind the fact that it's Sunday and neither of us are twenty one, exactly how will you provide beer?" The red head threaded her way through the mast lines aft with the grace of lesser primates and disappeared down the companionway. Murphy's sharp ears heard the dorm fridge she remembered passing on her way out of the little interior of the boat open and close, the clink of glass bottles touching each other and the sigh of pressure being released by a church key.
"By virtue of a simulator that's too exact for it's own good," she replied as she returned and presented a bottle of Sam Adams. "When Ah created the simulation file last summer of Picket's Revenge Ah used the optic-laser camera Dash invented her freshman year."
"Dash...Dashboard?"
Elaine nodded as she took a pull off the beer and leaned back against the pulpit rail at the bow of the boat. Murphy had seen enough pinups from her brothers to be more than a little jealous of the shapely curves of her friend and the unconscious sex appeal of the pose she'd affected. "Anyway, Ah used it to make a perfect copy and since there were two six packs on board when Ah took the scan..."
"Every time you call this thing up you get free beer?" demanded Murphy as she choked down the strong, bitter brew. It didn't matter that the beer didn't actually taste good, it was illicit, adult and breaking the rules. That made it ambrosia as far as she was concerned. Elaine only smiled and took another pull off her beer. "That's just sick!"
Elaine shrugged and looked away down the lake again. Joann watched the older girl drink from the bottle and as her face didn't flinch knew that she'd drunk enough beer to acquire a taste for it. Murphy forced her face to relax and let the bitter fluid flow over her tongue and down her throat. It was cold, but the flavor kept it from being refreshing at all and, despite her best effort, her face pinched up at the flavor. "If you don't like beer Ah'll be happy to get you a coke or something," she said with a smirk.
Murphy bit back on her temper. "What are you talking about?" she demanded. "I love beer! I can drink you and two like you under the table!"
"It's your first?" Elaine asked with a smile.
Joanne took another gulp and made a face. "Third," she admitted. "Gawd, how do people drink this?"
"Hold your nose and drink half," the red head instructed. With a dubious glance, Gunnarson pinched her nose shut and tipped the bottle back. It wasn't as bitter with her taste buds restricted, but still wasn't a flavor she'd ever think about desiring. Finally half the bottle was empty and she forced the cold lump down her throat. Looking up, she opened her mouth to demand what that would prove and the world did a lazy circle around her.
"Whoa," she breathed and despite her iron resolve, a giggle escaped her throat. Joanne hadn't giggled for two years and that had been a matter of iron will power.
"Now you know," managed Elaine around her own giggle.
"So, you beat the snot out of him, you did him, and now you're sulking in here," Murphy observed. "Wanna tell me why? Didn't you enjoy it?"
"Oh, Ah could get used to it," Nalley replied. "Hell, who am Ah kidding?"
"He knows how, eh?"
"Girl, he knows more than you're old enough to know about!" she said with a sigh.
Murphy only snorted and forced another drink of beer. She found that it wasn't as bitter as the first sips had been, there were actually a collection of flavors she was only just now starting to suss out from the cacophony of bitter and a very pleasant warm feeling was beginning to spread from her stomach. "So, why are you in here?"
Elaine looked down at her bare feet and back to the tree line of the lake. "Ah'm afraid," she admitted.
"Of what?"
"What he'll say," she said after a long pause. "What he'll do. What if he calls me a whore? What if he just says thanks for a good time, Red, but that's all it was? What if he just pretends he doesn't see me?" she ended in a whisper before her voice was drowned by a long pull from the beer. "In the history of science," she said with a smile that was obviously forced. "Not a single answer to a mystery of the universe has been found in the bottom of a bottle, but it hasn't stopped us from looking...!"
"Don't change the subject," Murphy ordered crossly. "And that's not what you're afraid of! He knows better than to do any of that shit, and with the sole exception of Tansy, from what I've heard every girl he's broken up with says he was such a nice guy about it that they'd probably take him back!"
"And the stories of the many notches in the belt?"
Murphy looked a Elaine with that "you're kidding right?" expression. "The telling story is the one you're not hearing. How many girls, the notches in the belt, are the ones telling the story? You know and I know, if he were to do that to either of us there would be tears and we'd blast him from now to forever."
"Yeah but that's us."
"And every girl under the sun who's ever had a bitch streak Elaine. Go to the source. If a girl's been burned hard, she'll be more than happy to share the hate and you know it. Betcha twenty he hasn't gone all the way with half the ones the stories claim."
Elaine snorted and took another drink. "Right, I'm sure he's a paragon of virtue and chivalry."
"You didn't lust after him for a year and a half because he was trying to top Pendragon in the shining armor department," Murphy shot back. She took another drink of the beer and was overcome with a giggle fit. "Man, you have it bad don't you? You're not afraid of him ignoring you or calling you names you want to be his whore, you've had it and you like it and that's what you're afraid of!"
"Hey, Ah'm not any man's whore...!" she shouted, her face flushed with humiliation.
"The hell you're not!" Murphy managed around her giggle fit. "You couldn't tell him no, could you? However he wants it you're up for it!" She went to take another drink and found the bottle to be empty. "It's like a damn porno movie! Hi Kody, Hi Elaine, bow chica bow wow...!"
"Excuse me," interrupted one of the Ants that was the 'father' character. "My family and I don't appreciate this kind of ..." he started before Elaine shouted to the heavens,
"Computer! Remove characters!" The human facade vanished from the robot that joined the crowd of his fellows filing out of the simulator. That handled, Elaine turned to further vent her rage on her friend only to find her snoring on the fore deck. "You don't know anything," she whispered at her sleeping friend. She took the empty bottle from her slack hand and vented her remaining anger on it, flinging it yards away until it vanished with a splash into the waters of the lake. "I'm not a whore," she told herself again. "I'm not."
* * *
[Updated on: Fri, 18 November 2011 14:24]
Be a dreamer who DOES, not a dreamer who dreams!
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| | Topic: Wednesday Morning, 5AM |
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| Wednesday Morning, 5AM [message #46243] |
Sun, 02 October 2011 20:43 |
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E. E. Nalley
Messages: 603
Registered: July 2005
Location: Atlanta, GA |
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Wednesday Morning, 5AM
A Whateley Academy Vignette
By
E. E. Nalley
Lyrics from the song Calypso from the Album Windsong by John Denver and the lyrics from Rockstar off the Album All the Right Reasons by Nickelback appears without the consent of the Denver Estate or Roadrunner Records under the Fair Use clause of the Berne Convention on International Copyright. No infringement of this copyright is intended by the Author.
January 31, 2007
Workshop Lab, W.A.R.S. Studio, base of Kane Hall Astronomy Tower
Arwin yawned sleepily as he fumbled with the lock on the door while trying and managing not to dump his armload of papers, tapes and CDs. The florescent tubes came up slowly to the banks of switches by the door. On most days Arwin would have savored the smell of collection of radio equipment, some of it dating back well before he'd been born, however the gild was off that particular lily and the toll of being the 'morning man' was beginning to wear down on his system. Still, he'd volunteered for this shift, as a courtesy to his fellow students to help their day start right, and when Arwin Hochauser gives his word, then by God that word is kept.
At least the night guy had remembered to set up the coffee pot for him.
A flick of his wrist had that brewing while he got the wave form amplifier out of its case to connect to the transmission equipment. It wasn't 'technically' a drug, and that was why the school had allowed him to include it for his broadcast. It only subliminally triggered various processes in the brain that made a person more awake and focused. He'd argued that it should be a permanent fixture in the broadcast, but had been overruled by Mrs. Carson using the veto power the headmistress had for any school function.
Still, Arwin wasn't upset. Once the Arbitron numbers came back for this year, having the Goodkind buy it was a shoe-in. In short order it was wired into its place and powered up with the rest of the gear. A glance at the clock told him he had fifteen minutes; time to get the lead out. As he headed back to the coffee pot, he flicked on the little robot in its charging cradle. The radioheads had dubbed it 'Bert'.
"Identification, please," the automaton asked, its voice heavily electronic in nature but with something of the timber and tone of the actor Gilbert Gottfried.
"Hochauser, A," Arwin replied sleepily as he found his coffee cup in the cupboard and began to pour. "Student ID ETF44107Emerson."
The vaguely human-shaped little robot unfolded from its cradle, revealing itself to be about three feet tall with a head dominated by a single camera with a huge red lens in the center of what would be its forehead if it were human. As it moved, it became obvious that 'Bert' had seen better days and that very few of his parts were factory originals. The little robot had started life as a Hughes Industries Fire Fighter Mk 1 from about 1983 or so. It had been heavily damaged in a fire where it had saved one infant and a much beloved cocker spaniel, and having fulfilled its purpose without endangering the life of a human firefighter, it had been scrapped from the FDNY, whose emblem was still on the unit's chest. From there it had been saved from the blast furnace through a technology recycling program that saw it with a number of other industrial and residential robot parts shipped throughout the Tri-State Area. Bert's box had been routed to Whateley and there he'd been ever since with three generations of techies taking care of him.
"ID confirmed, good Morning, Doctor Goodvibes, how are you this morning?"
"Tired Bert, how are you?" asked the young man as he finished stirring his milk and sugar into his coffee and returning to the 'personality' side of the booth. "Do we have an up-link yet?"
"Radiostat 4 is just setting I'm afraid, and Radiostat 1 won't rise for two minutes. We're inside the limits, however."
"Good," mumbled Arwin around another drink of his coffee. "You've got my notes and play list?"
"On the board," the little robot replied.
Arwin removed a pair of tuning forks from their velvet case, set the WFA to test and struck them together at the microphone. Satisfied with the result, he pulled on his head phones and set the machine to broadcast. "Gimme a countdown Bert," he asked as he took a final sip of the coffee while it would be hot.
"Radiostat 1 is above the horizon and we have a good uplink," Bert announced through his head phones. Arwin keyed on track one with one hand and lit the On Air sign with the other. The cords of the National Anthem played dully as he finished bringing up the monitors and got the microphone where he wanted it. A button press switched from the orchestral arrangement of the Anthem to the wailing guitar solo of Jimmy Hendricks at Woodstock. "Five seconds," Bert warned.
Arwin let the solo reach its climax before he cleared his throat, dropped his voice four octaves and hit the microphone live button. "Good morning New Hampshire, you're tuned to 105.7 on your FM dial, and streaming live on the internet at www.whateleyacademy.edu/WARS, this is double you aye are ess, Dunwich, Berlin, and Jericho Lake; the Whateley Academy Radio Station, you're with the Doctor of your good morning, I'm Doctor Goodvibes, Bert's in the booth and it's Wednesday, January 31, 2007."
"It's the day of getting humped," added Bert as he made some minute adjustments to the sound output on the board.
Arwin stifled a laugh at the simple processor in his mechanical engineer trying to suss out the nuances of colloquial English. "Not exactly the meaning I was going for there, Bert, but we might be getting humped by the weather, it is currently ten degrees below the big goose egg here in the Greater Berlin area, looking for a high today of only twenty one degrees so bundle up folks it is cold out side. And you always get traffic and weather together on W.A.R.S., how is that morning commute going, Bert?"
"New Hampshire State Patrol reporting all major thoroughfares open and freshly plowed through out Berlin, Doctor," the robot replied instantly. "On campus we have a patch of ice across the path between Whitman Cottage and Dunn Hall, Security advises the Whitman girls to avoid the patch through the tunnels and for any Dickinson Dwellers in the area to exercise more caution than they showed getting assigned to such a prissy cottage."
"Now, now, my robotic companion, no need to be rude, there's plenty to respect about the nice girls from Dickinson Cottage."
"True," the robot replied. "But the girls from Whitman still get the respect and they're more fun."
"Ok, somebody put some pepper in your electricity this morning, so let's change topics before we get into some real trouble here. It's 5:48 in the AM here on 105.7FM W.A.R.S. stand by for news!" Arwin hit the play button for the news theme and muted his microphone. "Hey Bert, tone down the bites on Dickinson for me, ok?"
"Why?" the robot asked, genuinely confused. "Every problem I've had with a girl has been a girl from Dickinson Cottage. All of the girls who take care of me are from Whitman..."
"And that would explain it," Arwin replied with a chuckle. "Just tone it down for me and I'll explain after the show." He called up the news notes and made the microphone live once more. "Only a couple more weeks here until the seniors unveil the changes to Crystal Hall. Tensions have been running pretty high with everyone eating in the crowded Dunn Hall cafeteria, and the buzz on the campus is that we're all about to have our wildest expectations exceeded. Now, as you know the Dome has been covered with a tarp since mid-January and some very large pieces of concrete have been moved into the Crystal Hall whose purpose isn't exactly clear. Wyatt Cody, the senior in charge of the project declined multiple requests to be on the show this, or any other morning. We'll soon see if our Alaskan cowboy has grabbed the brass ring or if this will forever be known as Cody's Folly.
"Turning to state news, Goodkind Health and Beauty, a division of Goodkind Pharmaceuticals announced a recall of nearly a million Goodkind pro-biotic antibacterial toothbrushes sold in the tri-state area from October to December of last year at G-mart, Wal-Mart and other discount outlets. Spokesmen for the megalithic manufacturer claim that while the toothbrushes don't represent any harm to the general public they actually did not meet internal quality standards and were shipped by mistake. Customers may go to www.gkhealthandbeauty.com/toothbrush to determine if they have one of the affected models and where they can return it for an exchange or full refund."
"This is why I am glad I don't have teeth," interjected Bert causing Arwin to have to slap the cough button so his bark of laughter didn't go out live.
"Don't we use those to clean out your servos though?" he asked as he nabbed a quick sip of rapidly cooling coffee.
"Here's hoping," the robot shot back. "I'd love to have a lawsuit against pockets that deep!"
"Bert, they'd have you tied up court for centuries!"
"What do I care about centuries?" Bert replied blithely, "I'm a robot. I'll live forever."
"Speaking of living forever, or at least another day, the Associated Press reports that NYPD confirms the first officer to be saved by their new all Kevra uniforms. Kevra, the extremely tough but flexible fabric was developed right here at Whateley by our very own southern belle Elaine Nalley. Patrol Sergeant Michael Penn was answering a robbery in progress call when he became involved in a fire fight with two well armed suspects in the process of holding up a grocery store on the East Side. Here with more on the story is the AP's Ileana Reyes." Arwin mashed the play button on the pre-recorded report and sat back in his chair to listen to it.
"When that shotgun came up I thought to myself, Mike, this is it, super suit or not, your ticket's punched," started a male voice that was obviously still shaken.
"That was the voice of a very much alive Sergeant Michael Penn," began the reporter in her professional and blasé tones. "Whose ticket is not only still un-punched, but has both of his suspects in custody tonight. It all happened here, at Merkz's Grocery on 2nd Ave where two men muscled their way into the store right at closing before pulling guns and demanding cash. A robbery was foiled and more lives were saved than just Sergeant Penn's."
"Oh they made it very clear they weren't going to leave witnesses," an older voice declared matter-of-factly. "I tried to tell them the cameras go straight to the security company but they were either too stupid or too high or both to listen. I knew the minute I opened that safe I was a dead man."
"But neither Mr. Merkz, nor Sergeant Penn are dead tonight because of an amazing new substance their clothing was made from. That substance is the bullet proof fabric Kevra, produced by Dow Chemicals. Last year in a bitter and controversial decision, the NYPD decided to go with a double layer of the fabric both under and in the uniforms themselves, replacing older soft body armors bought in the eighties and nineties that only protected the torso."
"The NYPD will not now, or ever, apologize or compromise in decisions that affect officer safety," a gruff, older voice proclaimed. "There will always be people who complain about the outlay of taxpayer money on items like this, but tonight a valuable officer, husband, and father will go home to his family. You can't put a price tag on that."
"Police Commissioner Kelly had no further comment and declined offers to appear on this broadcast," Ms. Reyes intoned.
"I tell you," the voice of Sergeant Penn interjected. "I don't know who thought this stuff up, but I owe him a beer."
"Bert, find out if this cop is related to Marty Penn at all," Goodvibes instructed as he readied himself for the ending of the report.
"On it, boss."
"For the Associated Press, I'm Ileana Reyes in New York."
"Thanks for that Ileana, it's now 5:58 in the AM and anybody who has to be at work at 6 better hurry!" Arwin declared with a chuckle. "Coming up at six we've got the morning rock-out from six to seven, the least interrupted hour of music on your FM dial, then at seven more of the W.A.R.S. Morning Show with me, your host, Dr. Goodvibes and Bert. As always we've got The Voice of Reason with our esteemed programming director Zenith at nine this morning and you'll want to stay tuned for the Peeper and Greasy Show at eleven. That's all in store so stay tuned!"
"Do you want to get away from it all?" purred the smooth voice of the commercial in Arwin's ear. "Of course you do, I know just the place! Outer Space..."
"Doctor Goodvibes," Bert interrupted. "Miss Penn's MySpace page lists her father as Mike and he's a sergeant on the NYPD."
"That can't be a coincidence," Goodvibes decided, as he shuffled through the MP3 list on the HDD he had already installed on the board.
"With daily nonstops... from Houston and the Kennedy Space Center... to the ISS or Hilton Orbital Casino Hotel... Airtran can get you out of this world... for a price that will leave you on cloud nine! This is... William Shatner... for Airtran Airlines... Go! There's nothing stopping you!"
"It is six o'clock in the AM and welcome to the wake-up rock Power Hour, on W.A.R.S.," announced Arwin as his hands cued up the song he wanted while he talked. "And we've got some new info on that Kevra save down in New York. Miss Nalley, you didn't just save some stranger's life, you saved the life of the father of fellow classmate Marty Penn and that makes you, Miss Nalley, our Wednesday Mensch of the Morning. This one's for you hon, and well done."
The opening guitar rift of Lynyrd Skynyrd's Georgia Peaches filled the studio for a moment before Arwin turned down the speakers.
* * *
January 31, 2007
Kitchen, Whateley House, Whateley Academy
Liz Carson rolled her eyes as the Southern Fried Rock poured out of the little clock radio on her kitchen island and made a mental note to educate Mr. Hochauser on the real meaning behind the song he'd picked as a tribute to the Lit Chick and why it might make her furious. As it was she took a bite out of her toast as she fished the cell phone from her purse and dialed. "Security, Lieutenant Reynolds, how may I help you?"
"Christian? Liz Carson."
"Yes, Headmistress? Do you have a problem? Do you need...?"
Liz choked down a chuckle. "Slow down Chris. Please have someone drop by Poe and collect Marty Penn and bring her to my office please."
"Yes ma'am, we're on it."
"Thank you," she replied as she disconnected and chose another speed dial setting. "Bella? Liz. Would you go wake up Marty Penn and have her ready? I have somebody from security coming to bring her to me." Carson took a sip of coffee as she listened. "Her father was involved in a shooting last night. No, no, he's fine, thanks to Loophole of all people! I want to tell her myself. I'm sure she'll want to go see him and I'll have a furlough set up. Yes, have her pack an overnight bag. Thanks Bella."
* * *
January 31, 2007
Jackson Ave, near Beck Library, Whateley Academy
Despite the bitter cold, Zenith was enjoying her morning run. An application on her iPod allowed her to monitor the radio station as she ran. She was gratified that Goodvibes was on time and seemed to be sharp this morning. It sounded like a good show. A vault to the top of the trashcan facilitated the second jump to the roof of the bus stop shelter and a double flip took her off that and she was running once again. Goodvibes had a good ear for running music, and his selections made her morning run more enjoyable than it would have been. There wasn't enough interesting stuff between Poe and Kane Hall to make for a really great run. As it was, and with the temperature being so low, Zenith wouldn't even be sweating when she arrived at the studio. A quick glance at her watch showed the number six twelve floating in ghostly holographic three dee above her wrist. It was time to pick up the pace.
One of the floating golfcarts Security used passed her on the path, its blue light flashing, but it didn't stop for Zenith. She waved at the officer inside, but he was intent on operating the little hovercraft and zipped along on the line of magnetism embedded in the path toward Poe. Zoe filed that away under 'not her business' and continued toward Kane Hall. She ran up the handrail instead of using the stairs for the small amount of thrill it would provide. Nevertheless she was unable to outrun the signal from the RFID chip embedded in her ID. The door recognized her, realized she was authorized before the start of classes, and unlocked itself just as she reached the handle.
"Next time," she promised herself as she flung open the door and quickly proceeded deeper into the building, wet sneakers from the snow squeaking every now and then. As she arrived at the studio, Zoe stopped, captivated by the framed photograph next to the plaque naming the studio itself. In it a large, burly black man stared menacingly out at the viewer, framed by an older man in bib overalls whose left arm was made of metal, but it was the last figure in the photograph that always caught Zoe's eye. It was of a blonde woman wearing one of those terrible 70's hair styles and a blue body suit with MM emblazoned up the side and, for all that, the classic lines of the woman who was now the headmistress of the Academy. Zoe couldn't help wondering what incredible twist of fate had led Elizabeth Carson, AKA Ms. Might, to become one of the founding faculty advisers of WARS.
* * *
December 12th, 1975
Basement of Poe Teacher's Dormitory, Whateley Academy
Aye Calypso the places you've been to,
the things that you've shown us,
the stories you tell...
"I thought we decided this was gonna be a Top 40 Station?" demanded Matt as he turned down the outlet speaker over the folk singer's ballad with an angry glance at his partner.
"Dude!" protested Greg from his side of the fold-up table that was serving the pair as their makeshift broadcast booth in the dusty basement of the Campus' least used cottage. "Did you forget September 27th already? Number one?"
"Yeah, well it ain't September 27th any more and this cat gives me the creeps. Fly, Robin, Fly! is number one now!"
"It's on the play list, brother!" Greg shook his head at his 'engineer's' taste in music as he got his broadcast notes in order. In his headset the folk ballad came to its thunderous crescendo before Matt gave him the high sign and cut the mike live. "It's seven in the pm and you're tuned to the Big W on AM 1422, Berlin, Dunwich and the armpit of America. This is Greg, Matt's on the board..."
"Yo!"
"And it's time for news baby!" Greg carefully flipped his note page so the sound wouldn't pick up on the sensitive microphone. "First up for all gearheads and rocket jocks in devisor land, NASA has announced the Maiden Flight of the Space Shuttle Enterprise, STS Number One, baby is gonna be a re-supply run to Sky Lab and the delivery of the first custom-built section for the space station."
"What?" interrupted Matt, "Did they run out of Apollo junk to refurb?"
"Well my brother, while the big N has always been on the bleeding edge of reduce reuse and recycle, there are times you gotta bust out with new shit, you dig?"
"I'm down."
"President Ford rapped with UPI reporter William Harvard who tells us that this new module for Skylab is going to be packed with scientific gear that would monitor Global Cooling and the coming Ice Age..."
Matt made the adjustment to his board and looked up as Greg's voice trailed off mid-sentence. "Hey, Greg, we're broadcasting here, buddy. Cat got your tongue?"
"This station is officially off the air," growled a deep voice from behind Matt. Greg turned slowly to take in the pair of adults that were filling the only door in or out of this closet. One was the familiar mustachioed face of his own house father, Mr. Maxwell. His already dark face was flush and darkened to the midnight hues of a panther that had been Mr. Maxwell's nom-de-guerre of Midnight when he'd been crusading for social justice in Harlem in the sixties.
"Aw, shit," breathed Greg.
"You got that right," Midnight snarled. "Jack, can you shut this junk off?"
"Sure Cliff," the other man replied as he entered the room.
"Mr. Duncan," Matt started, "We can explain..."
"You will," the teacher replied. "To Dr. Alexander. Did I not specifically tell you this equipment was not to be used to actually broadcast? Do you two knuckleheads have any idea how much trouble you've gotten us in? How deep you've gotten the school in dutch with the Feds?"
"You're going over these fool's heads, Gizmo," Mr. Maxwell retorted. "Let's give them something easy. Like the obscenities Jack Benny and Rochester here dropped on their broadcast just now? You boys know each one is a felony right?"
The color drained from both boys faces. "And you had the balls to pull this where I live?" demanded Jack from shutting down the equipment. "If Dr. Alexander doesn't skin you, I'm going to!"
"Out," ordered Cliff as he took each boy by the scruff of the neck and marched them upstairs.
* * *
December 17th, 1975
Devisor Lab (Cybernetics) Kane Hall Tunnels, Whateley Academy
"Mr. Duncan, can I have a word with you please sir?"
Jack 'Gizmo' Duncan sighed the forlorn breath of the persecuted. Most of his left arm was on the work bench as he replaced a worn out servo. It never failed that whenever he was right in the middle of something one of these kids would barge in with one of their hormone-induced teenage 'emergencies'. "You're on my shit list just now Greg. Did Dr. Alexander not give you enough detention to keep you out of what little hair I have left?"
The boy took a long breath and screwed his courage to the sticking place. "I know I fouled up good, Mr. Duncan, and, for what it's worth I'm sorry if I got you personally in dutch with the Headmaster."
"Son, if you're so bored you're wondering about my relationships with the other faculty members, I'm certain you have too much time on your hands. Now, that I can fix..."
"I had enough to come up with this, sir," the boy said, thrusting out a manila folder. The head of the Advanced Technology Program sighed again as he took a pair of reading glasses from a pocket of his bib overalls and perched them on his nose. "Ok, what's this?" he demanded as his good hand opened the folder and took in the spread sheet that met his eyes.
"I think its how we'll pay for that GE Fabricator you've been wanting, maybe some other stuff around the shop, too."
"You don't honestly think you can bribe your way back into my good graces, do you?" the teacher demanded, looking up from the numbers.
"No sir," the young man affirmed quickly. "It's just, when Matt and I, when we were, when we broke your rules, we opened up a dummy phone number to let people call back in." Jack's eyes shot up to which the young man quickly put up encouraging hands. "No, no, sir it was totally secure, ran through thirty hops all over the country, nobody could have traced it back to us."
"Famous last words," the teacher growled. "What does that have to do with this?"
"Sir, three of the calls were requests for what we'd charge for commercial time. That's where these numbers came from. I mean, all the teachers I've ever overheard were worried about how the school was going to stay in the black. And those numbers are weekly rates, sir, not monthly."
Jack flipped through the spreadsheet twice, before he broke out his Texas Instruments SR-50 and began to feed it numbers. By the time he'd worked the numbers up to a per annum number it was all he could do to keep a respectful whistle behind his teeth. Numbers like these were hard to argue. Despite himself there was a part of him that was already thinking about what money like this could buy. Finally he looked up at his recalcitrant student over the top of his glasses. "You realize that if you and Matt commit to this - and I put my johnson on the block with Dr. Alexander you damn well will commit to it - it's going to be run like a job, every day, day in, day out, or you can take your damn folder back right now."
"I already spoke with Matt and couple of the other guys, sir, we'd really like to do this!"
"This is way too much for me to serve as an adviser myself for," Duncan thought aloud. "We probably would need somebody from the English Department..."
"I'm pretty sure Mrs. Stevens might be interested, Mr. Duncan."
"Yeah, I'd bet Ms. Might would love to stick her nose in," groused the small part of Jack Duncan that was still Gizmo the Supervillain. "What the hell, I'm retired. Why not? That's still not enough. If you can talk Midnight, that's Mr. Maxwell to you, you punk, into this, I just might be persuaded."
"Who do you think he came to first?" drawled a familiar baritone from the doorway.
* * *
December 20th, 1975
Headmaster's Office, Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy
"No," Dr. Alexander's somewhat weedy voice announced after a long silence. "No, absolutely not. I'm sorry, Gentlemen, Lady, but I can't risk the school being exposed in such a manner."
The years were beginning to show on the school's headmaster. His hair, once a pepper mixed with a sprinkle of salt was now predominantly white. Even the tweed jackets with their leather patches on the elbows that he favored seemed a bit moth-eaten and careworn. He'd been standing implacably at his office window as the two teachers and the house father made their case, staring out in to the courtyard that the two wings of Schuster Hall framed, hands clasped behind his back. He'd said nothing during the entire proposal, asked no questions and then had asked his three faculty members to give him a moment alone to consider things.
His moment had stretched out for better than an hour, while Liz and Cliff had made small talk and Jack fiddled with a project from one of his trademark overall's many pockets. Now that they'd been called back in, it seemed like he hadn't moved, still staring out into space before finally announcing his decision.
"There are precautions that can be taken, sir," Gizmo said softly. "Dump buttons and tape delay..."
"It's not a question of technology, Jack," Alexander replied from the window. It can be traced back to us, back here. Even if the enemies of this school never hear a broadcast they can simply perform a freedom of information act request on the FCC License!"
"Clifford," Liz asked softly, "have you thought of the fact that word getting out about the school could be a good thing?"
"I'm listening, Mrs. Stevens," Alexander replied loftily.
Ms. Might refused to rise to the bait or even bristle. She knew she was the most junior of the staff there. Despite that, if the much vaunted Dr. Alexander hadn't wanted to be addressed by his first name he should have said so. She refused to be intimidated.
"It's really quite simple, Clifford," she replied with a smile. "These kids are going to be in the real world someday, and mutants and mutation aren't going away. So, folks out there can be afraid of the unknown, or they can be part of the solution. It's my experience that people love to help, especially if they're asked correctly. Now, Jack, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't some of those workshop kids of yours have inventions that could be patented?"
Gizmo nodded guardedly. "More than a few, why?"
She smiled her most disarming smile. "Isn't it obvious? Those kids have products that could be brought to market, and this school has some of the best minds and well connected people in the country. We could start a trust; call it the Whateley Academy Project..."
"I wouldn't want the school directly identified," Alexander protested.
"Paranormal Academy Project then," Midnight interjected, "remind the people of who they're helping, right? Go on, Liz."
The English teacher nodded. "The technical students get protection and their product out in the market place, helping them and reducing the number of scholarships we need to give out. The Trust pays the school a percentage to help us keep the school going and with our own radio station we have a means to not only self promote, but also bring in another stream of revenue for the school. The public needs to be educated that these kids, these mutants they're so afraid of, are just kids. Not to mention it's a tremendous learning experience and valuable job training."
For a long moment the Headmaster said nothing, merely staring out his window. Finally he took in a long breath and drawled, "Devious, Mrs. Stevens. Pluses to the students, pluses to the school, pluses to society, I'd have to be a fool to disagree, wouldn't I?" For the first time he turned he turned from the window and speared his teacher with a gimlet eye.
"I'm sure headmaster that whatever your decision is, it will be for the best interests of everyone involved."
"Oh you are good," Alexander replied. "Very well, I will carefully consider your request and give you an answer soon."
The three faculty members filed out. Once they were a discreet distance behind the English teacher, Gizmo stopped his friend to demand, "Look, I get you might not have been in the biz for the money, but I know you tangled with more than one straight-arrow type. What gives with you giving her the moon eyes?"
Midnight laughed and shook his head. "Brother, if I have to explain that to you, you're never gonna understand."
* * *
January 31st, 2007
Penthouse, Waterfront Center, 1000 Wisconsin Ave, Washington, DC
"Good morning, Mr. Tywyswyr," greeted Susan as she maneuvered the trolley she was pushing into her employer's office. "Did you have a pleasant commute?" she asked as she began to unload onto his desk the collection of newspapers, no two alike.
"A wreck on the Key Bridge tied up traffic for miles," the dragon complained from his pile of cushions. "Had to go all the way down to Arlington Memorial to go around."
"I heard about it on the radio," she replied as she removed the decanter from the cart and began to pour a steaming cup. "I hope no one was injured." She placed the tankard of coffee with in his reach, his eyes fixed on his wall of televisions. "Any special projects this morning, sir?"
"Yes, actually," he said around a gulp of the steaming coffee and pushed a manila folder across the desk to her. "Make sure this gets taken care of before 9, if you please."
Her smile would have had lesser males begging to father her children. "Certainly sir," she assured him as she returned to her desk in the outer office.
* * *
January 31st, 2007
Workshop Lab, W.A.R.S. Studio, base of Kane Hall Astronomy Tower
...They'll get you anything with that evil smile
Everybody's got a drug dealer on speed dial
Hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar...
Hey, hey, I wana be a rockstar...
"That's Nickelback with their number four smash Rockstar, going out by request just for you, Cody," recited Arwin as a light began to blink on the board. "It's eight minutes before the hour and coming up at nine it's time for The Voice of Reason with Zenith but right now we got the newsmaker line, this is Dr. Goodvibes, who's this?"
"This is a tip," purred Susan into the line as she began to read from the sheet of paper from the folder. "If you want the scoop of the new year, get someone remote to the MCO field headquarters in Berlin."
"Who is this?" demanded Arwin.
"Better hurry," the voice replied before the line clicked and went silent.
Arwin thought frantically for a second, exchanging a glance with the expressionless face of his robotic engineer before he sprang into action. A quick button press got a new song playing and he rapidly dialed the non-emergency line to Security. "Hey, this is Goodvibes, WARS, lemme talk to whatever flyer you have doing student assistance this morning. Thanks. Hey, Gloriana, how'd you like to make history?"
* * *
January 31st, 2007
MCO Regional Office, 175 Mason St, Berlin, NH
Fritz Haustin yawned as he made his way down Main Street. As it was the center of what these yokels called a town, naturally there was no parking. However, the Mutant Commission Office made a point to have all of its offices as close to the largest government building in the area so as encourage the perception they were more of a government agency than they actually were. In this case that meant the corner office of the Berlin Boxing Club Building, across the two lane street from City Hall.
Fritz hated his job, hated being this close to that school of freaks and inhuman monsters, and most of all he hated having to put on a smiling face when one of their shills in the media threw a gotcha question generally along the lines of "Why does the MCO hate mutants?" Lately, however, the bitter winters had given his joints new reasons to hate being here, and today was a prime example. As he walked from the coffee shop next to the parking lot where he'd parked, it was two degrees below zero and his cup of coffee was rapidly going cold. A snort of amusement and cold escaped him as he thought back to accepting this post and the imagining of being told he'd have a female assistant. The fantasies of some nubile adolescent wet dream were quickly dashed by the reality of the middle-aged battleaxe that walked next to him. Even decent conversation was beyond her. Fritz was certain he could still count on both hands the number of words they'd exchanged.
Despite the counting of how bad his life was, the prickly sense most lawmen and, oddly enough, the wanna-bes that emulated them developed began to drone for his attention. Something was wrong. He looked up from his miserable commute and began to take in his surroundings with earnest. A dull brown Crown Victoria was parked in front of the Boxing Club building, wrong way on the one way street. A nondescript black van took the corner of Mason street where it crossed Main, just beyond. There were nondescript men in the nondescript vehicles wearing nondescript suits, all watching him.
Fritz had nearly made up his mind to turn and, not flee, mind you, but return with expediency to his car, when the doors on all the cars opened and the men in black began to spill out. The van's side door opened to reveal a black clad tactical team in full assault gear, right down to the government issue 10mm HK MP5's. They didn't exit the van, but it wouldn't take them long if they choose to. A fortyish man with a comb over of what had once been rich chestnut hair stopped before him, holding a blue envelope and a decidedly unpleasant grin on his face.
It was the grin of a man who's spent years getting as much bread as he can on the shit sandwiches he's had to eat, and has just learned he's the head chef now. "Fritz Haustin?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "Gertrude Anders?"
"Who wants to know?" demanded Frtiz.
"Peter Renaud, Department of Paranormal Affairs," he replied without any diminishing of the smile.
"I'm Special Agent Fritz Haustin of the Mutant Commission Office," Fritz fired back. "What can I do for you?"
A larger man in an ill-fitting suit that bulged under both armpits opened his coat and relieved Fritz of the .40 caliber Sig Sauer from his shoulder holster. Peter held up a photocopy of a collection of MIDs, one of them was The Redhead that had taken up residence in Fritz's fantasy life of late. "As Agent in Charge of this office, did you authorize these MIDs to be marked Deadly Force pre-Authorized?" demanded Peter whose grin showed he already knew the answer.
"Those are dangerous mutants!" snapped Fritz. "That one, Tennyo, has antimatter for blood!"
"She's also a US citizen that you've denied due process of law. Not to mention the criminal conspiracy here to commit mass murder against a collection of children." Peter tisked between his teeth as he shook his head in disgust. "You're under arrest Mr. Haustin, and you too, Ms. Anders. Place your hands on the hood of the vehicle."
"You won't get away with this!" thundered Haustin as he was relieved of his coffee and roughly patted down.
"There is where you're wrong, Mr. Haustin," Peter replied with a smile. "You'll find things are changing around here."
As his wrists were locked into a pair of handcuffs and the cold metal found his exposed skin, Fritz looked up and locked eyes with a teenager in a white and gold body stocking on the roof of City Hall who was frantically talking into her cell phone while her matching cape fluttered dramatically in the wind.
* * *
January 31, 2007
Headmistress's Office, Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy
"The SWAT team is leading a number of people out of the building now, it looks like the entire MCO Office in Berlin is under arrest!"
Gloriana's voice drifted from the speakers on Liz Carson's desk as she leaned back in the leather chair that was her one indulgence in this office and contemplated how this would affect things. There would be repercussions, and how the school would be affected wasn't entirely clear; this was cause for much concern. That was something she tried to not think about just at the moment so she could savor the sweetness of a victory on this scale. An entire MCO office under arrest! Who knew, this might even be something much larger, nationwide even. She'd have to start looking into getting larger broadcasts and getting more information.
That would come later.
Just now, for a brief moment, Liz Carson was young again and exulted with her students on the airwaves. "Interesting news, isn't it?" asked Amelia Hartford as she dropped off the morning's reports and the weekly requests the headmistress had to sign for. Her assistant's smile was knowing.
"Is there something you want to tell me, Amelia?" Liz asked around an arched eyebrow.
"Merely observing how the wyrm can turn," her assistant replied.
"Without doubt," Liz agreed. "The question is what he's turning about and why?"
"You know how he protests he feels about these kids, Liz," Hartford said evenly. "How would you react if someone threatened to kill one of your kids, even as dispassionately as some kind of, oh, shall we say authorization on a card?"
"How would he find out about such a threat?" Carson wanted to know. "We know what kind of a temper he has."
"How indeed?" Amelia asked as she withdrew from the office. There were plenty of things that went on around this school the headmistress didn't need to be bothered with. Some of it mundane, some of it unworthy of her attention, some of it things she was better off not being able to testify about later.
Eldritch's little DFA rant was definitely part of the latter.
* * *
September 6, 1976
Workshop Lab, W.A.R.S. Studio, base of Kane Hall Astronomy Tower
"Tell me again how you three talked me into this?" demanded Dr. Alexander as he and a small group of teachers were observing in an out-of-the-way corner while a clutch of students were excitedly checking out the equipment and making their final checks.
"You were persuaded by our friends, Grant, Benjamin and Jackson," Liz replied drolly as she presented the headmaster a check. "That's our ad revenue."
"For the month?"
"The week," she replied with a grin.
"If even one of these kids slips up and confuses a codename with a real name..." warned the Headmaster.
Gizmo grunted and shook his head. "They can't," he rumbled proudly. "Circe did her magic thing so the kids won't make that mistake, but it's that blue box there I'm most proud of."
Alexander permitted himself a scholarly chuckle. "And that is?"
"It's a geospatial mixer," the Devisor returned with a grin. "No matter where the signal is picked up, the receiver will get a different set of landmarks and local references. If one of the kids mentions Berlin or Dunwich, those names will change to local places, depending on who hears it. Unless they're already local."
"Why does it exempt locals?" demanded the Doctor.
"Has to," Gizmo returned. "The station has to provide a service to the community, that's FCC regulation. Besides, if somebody is close enough for the mixer to let them hear about Berlin or Dunwich, they likely already know where we are. But every fifty miles or so out, the locations will change, so there's no way somebody will trace it back."
"Good morning Whateley Academy, you're tuned to the voice of the School of Schools, WARS is on the air!"
* finis *
Be a dreamer who DOES, not a dreamer who dreams!
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| | Topic: Ill Winds timeline |
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| Ill Winds timeline [message #21466] |
Sat, 10 January 2009 18:03 |
oljak.eru
Messages: 1341
Registered: December 2008 |
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Seems to me like this timeline is botched - Ill Winds I is taking place 2006-12-08 and onward, Ill Winds VI 2006-12-06. I take it the later stories have the correct dates based on mentions in the other stories, so when are the early stories supposed to actually be taking place?
Oh, noticed there's already a thread on this topic. Just ignore this one.
[Updated on: Sat, 10 January 2009 18:07]
“I am SO level-headed! And anyone who says different is going to have to answer to... The CABBIT OF DOOM!” -Jade
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| | Topic: (wrong forum) |
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| (wrong forum) [message #13492] |
Tue, 29 July 2008 23:43 |
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Arkain
Messages: 170
Registered: July 2008 |
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(Wrong Forum)
[Updated on: Fri, 12 September 2008 03:42]
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| | Topic: Fan Fic: A New Home Part 1 is Up!!!!! |
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| Fan Fic: A New Home Part 1 is Up!!!!! [message #9184] |
Sat, 14 July 2007 16:44 |
dragonkin
Messages: 63
Registered: June 2007
Location: Colorado |
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I've just posted the first part of my story. I hope it meets with your approval.
I still have some plot twists and encounters to work out for part 2. It should be ready in a few weeks.
Enjoy.
There's no personal problem big enough it can't be solved through a large enough application of high explosives
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| | Topic: Debt Of Conscience Teaser |
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| Debt Of Conscience Teaser [message #7597] |
Tue, 20 March 2007 14:39 |
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E. E. Nalley
Messages: 603
Registered: July 2005
Location: Atlanta, GA |
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Debt of Conscience
An Erinyes Adventure
By
E. E. Nalley
Kait Marksbury created by Renae Miller
Diana Davenport and Preston (Kallie) Wyecross created by Bek D. Corbin
Elisa Diaz has been an Erinys for a very long time; long enough that she has nearly become jaded by the sights and conspiracies of the world. Yet in the dark shadowy places there remain tangled plots that have never seen the light of day, until she stumbles across one of the oldest. Guns! Gritty Cyberpunk setting, babes in skintight body suits and even a little bit of cross dressing! Set in Bek D. Corbins Erinyes Universe, with his blessing.
Rosario-Buenos Aries-La Plata Metropolitan Area 10:28PM, March 9th
The air was heavy with humidity and the din of traffic coming and going on Moreno Street. The workday was done, but the night life was getting into high gear and a cacophonic mix of rumba, salsa and other, less identifiable music was floating up from the street below the gothic cathedral. The revelers, so close to the massive dike that had been erected to hold back the bloated Plata River took no notice of the dike, nor the sordid floating docks that had been cobbled together to keep the port open when the oceans rose. This was Old Town, the heart of Buenos Aries and just now was never the time for such thoughts.
A glossy black shadow crouched beside a gargoyle, florescent green eyes peering intently at the Hotel InterContinental de Buenos Aries. The eerie green glow was fixed on a particular window in which a tall, thin man was pacing, incessantly smoking while checking the lock on the door as well as nervous glances to his window, forty stories above the street. Here was a man whose conscience was giving him no rest.
Good.
The shadow seemed to smile at the mans obvious lack of sleep. Imperceptible over street noises was a mans voice in the shadows ear. The glowing green eyes turned and picked out the sight of a helicopters running lights. Still a ways off but getting closer; it was time.
A small, matte black device made itself known in the shadows hand in the weak glow of neon coming up from the street. A soft puff of escaping high pressure air was lost to the collection of music as an impossibly thin line snaked across the street to imbed itself into the concrete of the hotel, just above one of the two open lower roofs below the penthouse with its heliport above. The shadow detached itself from the protection of the gargoyle and slid across the space, lithe and feminine and still impossibly black in a skin tight combat suit that gave no impression other than form.
The shadow dropped soundlessly onto the roof and was through the access door before its lock could begin to put up a struggle.
* * *
Customs of Aeropuerto Internacional de Ezeira, 11:23 AM, March 8th
Buena maana, Seorita. Puedo ver su pasaporte, por favor? Pablo could not believe his luck that the most beautiful woman in the customs line had come to his cubical. She was magnificent even as she demurely presented her passport, only one small suitcase beside her.
Buena Maana, she replied, her voice a velvet contralto that lovingly rounded each syllable that escaped her full, generous mouth. Pablo forced his eyes from femininity personified to be rewarded with her smiling picture staring out at him from the documents. It named her Elisa Maria Ayala Diaz, from the American Federation and listed her age as 38.
Impossible, thought Pablo to himself. Surely this woman, so richly attired, so breathtakingly beautiful could be no older than 25 but even that was being generous. Still, it seemed prudent to keep his mind on his work. Something wasnt quite right. Cul es la longitud de su estancia en la Coalicin SurAmericana?
Apenas un da. Estoy aqu en negocio.
Pablo frowned at her ready answer. Qu clase de negocio? Her smile became feral and the demure faade slipped a bit.
Personal business.
* * *
Rosario-Buenos Aries-La Plata Metropolitan Area 10:29PM, March 9th
The Hotel InterContinental de Buenos Aries was one of a double dozen Five Star hotels scattered around the Old City, but it was the only one to boast such a central location in Old Town. It was also easily the oldest which gave it an air of Art Deco opulence that clashed with more modern security measures. The Shadow found herself in a disserted stairwell from the roof top door.
A building that had been constructed in the last fifty years would never have a roof entrance not opening into a crowded area. There were too many reasons since the seas rose large numbers of people would need to exit a building quickly to not have all the exits clearly marked. Such considerations were beyond the imaginations of the InterContineals architects in 1934. Doorways which went no where, to their minds, were better left to the top of unused stairwells.
As she expected, the Shadow found a small half door held shut by a simple padlock. A special tool from her belt had it open in a clutch of heartbeats and the Shadow was in the darkness once more; this time on a steel grate that was tacked as an after thought inside a concrete pit of the buildings elevator core. Groans of distressed steel and rattling chains replaced lively music to be just as ignored by the Shadow as she found the ladder she was expecting and began to descend.
Five floors later a similar grate was waiting on her, what little wall space there was taken up by a rats nest of cabling and an unvisited museum exhibit of telephone history. As the buildings communications equipment had been upgraded throughout the decades, each new generation of engineers simply left their predecessors work in place and placed their own beside it. Wooden distribution blocks with wing screws for connections and solid copper wire had given way to plastic 66 series punch down blocks and twisted pair Category 3 wire.
This too had been supplanted by the floors Smart Box and fiber optic branch threads that fed the river of information from the buildings 145meg/sec OC3 main trunk; state of the art, fifty years ago. A smile formed behind the Shadows mask at the pride the final engineer had had in his work.
His notes still remained on a yellowed sheet taped next to the Smart Box where he had painstakingly drawn out each circuit and thoughtfully labeled them all by room number for whoever would follow him. The green glow from the night vision goggles played across the diagram. The old engineer hadnt completely trusted the new technology and made sure the Smart Box would make use of the previous punch down block for strictly voice calls from the hotels PBX.
Redundancy was the hallmark of a good engineer.
From her belt, the Shadow removed a small box with a pair of wired leads that dangled free. These she brought to the correct alligator clips of the 66 block and punched them in place, over the top of the existing lines. The outbound circuit from the same room she worked a hook into and pulled them free. Her guilty friend wouldnt be calling for help on the Hotels dime.
An angry red light glowed to life as she activated the black box and secured it to the 66 block where it could be easily found. No sense making the job harder for the clean up crew. They werent accessories to murder.
It had taken most of a day to hard code a passable, generated copy of the mans murdered wifes voice and hard imprint it on a chip. The Shadow only wished she could have seen his face when his dead wife began calling from the Great Beyond. Via con Dios, the Shadow whispered to herself with a reverent, but hurried crossing of herself.
From the small of her back she produced and made sure of the load of deadly looking automatic pistol whose magazine extended well below the grip. The Shadow slipped clear of the service shaft and out into the main hall of the floor.
It was time.
* * *
Be a dreamer who DOES, not a dreamer who dreams!
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| | Topic: A very informative site. |
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| A very informative site. [message #7206] |
Tue, 06 February 2007 19:06 |
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Warren
Messages: 1556
Registered: January 2005
Location: Wet wonderful Washington |
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Writing Science Fiction and Fantasy
http://www.writesf.com
An educational television program that aired in East Coast U.S. schools in the '90s, Science Fiction and Fantasy Writing featured interviews with the field's giantswriters like Jane Yolen, Joe Haldeman and James Patrick Kellywhile simultaneously providing inspiration and writing instruction to would-be SF authors in their teens. Though the show's run was short, it has found a new lease on life via the Internet: the progam's host, author Jeffrey A. Carver, has distilled its core content into a free online writing class for young learners.
Writing Science Fiction and Fantasy presents the basics of storytelling, world-building and characterization in concise, well-written modules that are illustrated by examples from notable science-fiction and fantasy works: Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, for example, and Ursula LeGuin's Left Hand of Darkness. The course is divided into two educational streams. The first is a "Quick Launch" program that gives writers a few tiny prods before challenging them to simply start writing. Students can move between this mode and a second track that offers more in-depth examination of conflict, style and all the various elements of craft, revision and marketing.
Writing Science Fiction and Fantasy is content-rich but low on pizzazzit shares its information in a pleasant, straightforward fashion, but without much visual flair. Its exercises are solid skill builders, the kind of basic writing stretches that experienced writers return to time
and again.
Most "how-to-write" manuals cover essentially the same ground, though some focus on a single subsection of writing skills, like plotting, while others provide a more general overview of the artistic considerations a writer must juggle. Carver takes the latter approach, and what he does with this course is to boil the practice of writing SF down to its absolute basics. For anyone embarking on the daunting task of writing their first story, Writing Science Fiction and Fantasy makes an excellent roadmap for the journey.
Sometimes writing with geeks is like eating Jello with a chainsaw. Interesting but painful.
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| | Topic: Garafena Teaser |
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| Garafena Teaser [message #7053] |
Sun, 14 January 2007 02:30 |
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Warren
Messages: 1556
Registered: January 2005
Location: Wet wonderful Washington |
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Time for one of the perks of being a author. The "teaser." :twisted:
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We have the results back, like I promised, she said with a smile. Mrs. Shepard theres no really easy way to say this
My daughter has some terrible form of skin cancer and its eating her alive. Thats it, isnt it? Mom interrupted.
No, you daughter is not dying. Lets get that set straight right now.
Mom sighed a bit and settled back in the chair.
She is changing, though. The doctor said.
Changing how? Mom asked as she moved on to the front edge of the chair again.
The two DNA samples we took and compared. Its very interesting. They both share enough genetic markers that you can clearly see they are from the same person. The sample we took from the odd patch on her chest also shared enough markers that it could be from a descendant of a snake. There is also a marked shift downward in her bodily temperature. These tests, along with the notes from your last doctor, lead me to believe your daughter is a mutant. Or that she was unknowingly exposed to some magical item or magical effect. There are recorded cases of spontaneous mutation. These are actually traceable if researched deep enough to the combination of previous minor unnoticed and largely benign mutation common to every person on earth. Sometimes the cosmic dice land just the right way and a new one is created.
So my baby is turning into a snake of some sort? Mom asked.
Theres no telling right now how far the change may go. It may only change her skin and body temperature. Or it may go further, the doctor explained. I would like to see her again in three months. That is, if everything continues like it is now. She definitely has GSD.
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The story is, I believe ready to send to Sapphire. I'm just holding my breath and placing bets on how long it will take to post.
Sometimes writing with geeks is like eating Jello with a chainsaw. Interesting but painful.
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