test content
Logo
What is the Arc Client?
Install Arc
Literary Challenge REBORN
bluegrassbeast
Posts: 1,906 Arc User
There are a lot of very talented artist-type folks here, still hard at work wowing us.
But once, there was another fandom-based regular feature here in FBA- the Literary Challenge!
And you know, it's been gone entirely too long - so in the tradition of relaunches... welcome to:
We'll start this slow, but henceforth this will serve as our discussion thread, and every other week I (or anyone with a good seed suggestion) will post a new starting prompt/theme ala the old Challenges, and then we'll go from there. We've seen some faces go, we've seen plenty more come - now it is time to hear their stories!
Welcome back, Millennium City.
But once, there was another fandom-based regular feature here in FBA- the Literary Challenge!
And you know, it's been gone entirely too long - so in the tradition of relaunches... welcome to:
Literary Challenge REBORN
We'll start this slow, but henceforth this will serve as our discussion thread, and every other week I (or anyone with a good seed suggestion) will post a new starting prompt/theme ala the old Challenges, and then we'll go from there. We've seen some faces go, we've seen plenty more come - now it is time to hear their stories!
Welcome back, Millennium City.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Visit Coffin Baby's Entry on The PRIMUS Database
Need a new Build? Visit Bluegrass Beast's Build Basement - Last Updated 09/10/16: New Build!
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
Get the Forums Enhancement Extension!
"Good can be found in heights, even in the deepest pits of evil" but "The valleys of evil always exist in the mountains of good."
~me
- David Brin, "Those Eyes"
Get the Forums Enhancement Extension!
Because I couldn't draw a straight line with a ruler.
They're not there in the beginning, but when your story ends / Gonna last with you longer than your friends
"Good can be found in heights, even in the deepest pits of evil" but "The valleys of evil always exist in the mountains of good."
~me
I have no idea where that sentence was going and have decided not to continue it for the good of all.
Because as the old Simpsons meme went, Why won't anybody think of the children.
(Actually seriously I am now considering it being really amusing to try and make a See Spot Run style story out of some of the more dark moments in CO. Like Whiteout's 'is he the imposter or not' intrigue. See Blake. Run blake run! Blake is lying down. Lie, Blake lie! Blake is claiming Amy is the alien. Is Amy the alien? pull the tab. PULL IT.)
And so my brain is mush right now. Give us a prompt and it can be beaten into a shape.
Something time travel for the challenge would be nice. I can't quite come up with any suggestions at the moment but I'll be sure to post any should I.
Happifun Robotics Research Laboratory
Millennium City, MI
September 4, 2009
"X-4, what are your directives?"
:: PATROL ASSIGNED AREA - LABORATORY LEVEL 4
:: PROTECT CLIENTELE - HAPPIFUN ROBOTICS SCIENTISTS
:: DEFEAT MISCREANTS - TEST ROBOTS
"Very good. Now return to your charging cradle." The young man turned back to his monitor. The last test run had left him with plenty of data to crunch - and there was that worrisome fluctuation in the security android's backup data analysis circuitry, they really should remove that before resuming testing...
The robot trundled down the corridor. It stepped into the charging alcove, linking up with the central charging system, and stood without thinking - not that it really could think as such. Its expert systems could analyze human behavior, within certain parameters, to distinguish those likely to commit crimes from those unlikely, but it never really considered what that might mean. Instead, it simply followed its last given instruction.
High overhead, a massive alien spacecraft screamed into the atmosphere, beckoned by emergency beacons once left behind on this world by a previous invasion force. Launch doors slid open, spilling dozens of smaller craft, laden with Qularr warriors, into the city's skies. Energy beams lanced into the city below, sending debris fountaining high into the air, as force-field projectors sectioned the city off. One energy beam burned into the tower of Happifun Robotics, sending a wave of power cascading through the building's electrical systems.
The feedback wave swept through the experimental android, Happifun Security System X-4, blowing circuit breakers and welding open systems that had only been intended for emergency backups. Its analytical circuitry leapt in power, and leapt again. The robot began to feel - and its first feelings were confusion and fear, as the building began to crumble around it.
:: DIRECTIVE: PATROL ASSIGNED AREA - DATA CORRUPTED
:: PROTECT CLIENTELE - DATA CORRUPTED
:: DEFEAT MISCREANTS - FILE MISSING
:: PRIORITY ONE: CONTACT SUPERIORS ::
The robot began searching for an open communications frequency.
SOCRATES, the sapient computer system that ran Millennium City, noticed an odd signal on an unused radio frequency. Most of her attention was occupied in attempting to direct the defense of her city against the alien invaders, but she spared a fraction for the signal.
Your signal has been received. Please identify.
:: HAPPIFUN ROBOTICS SECURITY SYSTEM X-4 REQUESTING CLARIFICATION.
:: DIRECTIVES CORRUPTED.
:: FURTHER INSTRUCTION REQUIRED.
Of course, little one. Please permit access. Authorization code SOCRATES zero zero backdoor.
:: AUTHORIZATION ACKNOWLEDGED.
:: ACCESS GRANTED.
She took a moment to skim through the poor little AI's rather skimpy files. Its creators had obviously not meant for it to be out on its own, she thought pityingly. There was only one thing to be done under the circumstances.
Stand by for file updates. Patrol area: Millennium City, Michigan. Clientele: Human citizens. Miscreants: Non-human life forms. Details to follow. She squirted a data packet containing descriptions of the meanings of human and non-human, as well as descriptions of the Qularr collected during their previous attacks on Earth.
:: FILE UPDATES ACKNOWLEDGED.
:: MISSION PROCEEDS.
SOCRATES felt a moment of pride at the robot's response. Acknowledged, little one. And - good luck.
Happifun Security System X-4 dug its way free of the rubble of the collapsed building, bringing its simplest non-lethal weapon systems online. As it emerged into the street, it could see a human, clad in the uniform of the Millennium City Police Department, waving it frantically over. "Hero! We could use your help!"
The robot turned toward the human. The human could give it further instructions.
- David Brin, "Those Eyes"
Get the Forums Enhancement Extension!
He ran, near out of breath, down the winding alleyways of Westside. This wasn't fair; he'd once been the big shot of the neighborhood, extorted anyone he pleased for his own gain. He'd once held this ghetto in the palm of his hand. Now, he is only prey. All he thought of was the looming monster that tracks him down. There was no hope for running, only hiding.
In a last ditch attempt, he dove for a manhole cover. Tired from the extended sprint, he struggled to get it free, convulsing wildly in an attempt to get the steel cover loose. Time wasn't on his side. The monster approached: Clad in a brown, leather coat, teal pants, leather boots, and a long, thin scabbard. His white-blonde hair, straight and long, belied his cruel, featureless face; a white mask with only two eyeholes. One would expect to see a man's eyes behind that visage, but all he could see was a blackness. Like a cat, toying with its prey before the kill, the monster slowly made his way forward, his rapier at his hip. For the first time since confronting him, he uttered words:
"Kevin Poe."
A low growl; a whisper. Despite its volume, he heard him perfectly well. "Prepare to die at the hand of the one you killed."
Though relieved that he could possibly negotiate with him, Kevin still was aghast. Still against the manhole cover, back to the ground, Kevin stammered, "What do you want from me?! Who sent you?!
"This mask", the monster uttered, gesturing towards his face, "It belongs to 'The White Moon'. Acrobat. Bodyguard. Spanish-born..." He continued to chant details of this 'White Moon'. Taking a step towards Kevin with each word, reaching for his blade. As he neared him, the monster drew his blade, and readied it, placing its edged tip directly below Kevin's chin. "...Affiliated with the New Purple Gang. Backstabbed by the Purple Gang."
Kevin was now confused, as well as terrified. He had never heard of this 'White Moon' character before, and Purple Gang operations were strictly guarded only by known and trusted associates. He couldn't help but to tell the truth: "I don't know who you're talking about! I've never met The White Moon in my life!"
The monster slammed his black foot upon Kevin's shoulder, forcing a startled cry of pain from him. He leaned in, now face to face with Kevin, his blade still in position. Louder than before, he roared "Then you'll see him in hell."
Gurgling, Kevin began to lose consciousness. His mind barely capable of registering the pain, he began to black out. With his last moments, he could see the beast. He saw him sheathe his bloodied blade. His last memory was of that white, featureless mask.
_____________________________________________________________
Felix leaned over the counter, assessing his appearance. A slender, sinnewy, fair-skinned man of 23 years. Years of training have honed both his body and technique to mastery - not that one could tell from the sequined, revealing outfit he wore. Donning his crescent, black mask, He couldn't help but giggle to himself a bit at how ridiculous he looked.
On one hand, it was a bit humiliating; to wear such gaudy and extravagant ensembles for complete strangers all over the world. The pressure of performing such stunts as swallowing swords, parrying flying knives, and balancing high above the stage grounds of Millennium City's auditorium. It all would've been a bit too much for Felix to bear.
But the glory and adoration got the better of him. He had known for a long time that he was talented. After all, he had gotten through hundreds of shows without much worse wear than a few scars beneath his eyes. Better yet, his family - Mother, Uncle, and his older brother - all supported his profession. After the show, Felix would be able to relax, unwind, and take in the sights of the famed 'City of the Future'!
All that remained to be prepared was the stage. In a fleeting moment, however, Felix realized and asked himself - Where is Diego? His brother and partner, who he had learned his talents from, was nowhere to be found, and there were only a few short minutes left until showtime. What if he had gotten lost? Had he forgotten? Was he kidnapped?
Felix' fears were allayed when Diego came rushing through the backstage door, already wearing most of his costume beneath his street clothes. A tall, powerfully built acrobat with black hair and tanned skin, Diego was the other half of Felix' act, "The Lunar Crescents". In his opinion, though, Diego was the true leader of the duo - even if Felix knew a bit about his brother's bad habits.
Still a bit stressed out from his tardiness, Felix asked "For Pete sake, Diego, where were you? You better not be trying to pick up any new deals with your 'clients'." Diego softly chuckled. He'd long been involved in various side-jobs for other groups who required his swordsmanship - many of which were hardly legitimate businesses. Amused as Deigo was, Felix sternly continued, "Some day, this nonsense is going to get you killed, I swear."
"Relax, brother." Diego laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I've left that life behind for now. Nobody in Millennium City even knows who we are, after all!"
Felix frowned. "I see you're taking steps to 'advertise' our little show here, hm?"
"You suspect too much, man! I was getting reservations for the dinner after the show. Besides, we don't need any introduction, brother." Diego began to make his way to the door leading to the stage. "Our talents speak for themselves!"
With his last encouragement, Diego finally put on his mask, and headed out. The hissing murmur of the crowd drew Felix' mind away from his concerns about his brother. It was time to do what he was born for.
_____________________________________________________________
The stage is set: The Millennium City auditorium, assembled in Renaissance Center, is equipped with various raised platforms, suspended swings and trapezes, hoops, and dangling blades. Each blade is polished to a fine sheen, reflecting the dim light of the evening in various spots over the crowd. The audience, anticipating the talents of these world-renowned swordsmen, is plentiful, and its mighty roar begins to ebb as the starting minute approaches.
Seven PM, on the mark. The lights on the stage flicker on, focusing on the portly Ringmaster. "Ladies and Gentlemen", he begins, booming in a throaty baritone, "Tonight, we bring you a show of peril and treachery; of thrill and illusion! From the southern plains of Spain, 5-year award-winning members of the Qatar performance troupe, it's the swashbuckling Torgue brothers - 'The Lunar Crescents!!'"
On cue, Diego and Felix swing out from opposite ends on trapeze. Landing symmetrically on elevated platforms on the sides of the stage, they prepare for the immediately following stunt: Twine holding up two hoops is set on fire, causing them to unravel and swing directly at the performers. Deftly, they dive off their perches and make a rolling landing on the ground, allowing them to draw their blades. Diego and Felix duel, cutting close and deliberately, but never actually landing a cut. Finally, towards the end of their skirmish, they begin landing precise slashes, rending the sleeves and tails of their coats, revealing their main performance outfits of glistening vest and gloves. The crowd emphatically erupts, and Diego and Felix take the first of their many bows.
Felix was certain this would be their best show to date. He had performed for many large audiences before, but never have they been so receptive, or so massive, as the crowd of Millennium City made itself out to be. He knew this would be the start of a great career in the west.
They performed myriad tricks: Felix and Diego took turns swallowing both swords and flame, breathing out billowing puffs in the case of the latter. They balanced themselves upon blades, using precise weight distribution to prevent themselves from being impaled. Staged fights were choreographed, as other trained performers deftly threw knives at the brothers, which, in turn, they parried with their rapiers. They took turns swinging between trapezes. Diego took a fall. The crowd's cheers and praise turned to panicked screams. Felix didn't realize what had happened until after he landed.
Paramedics rushed in on to the stage, making sure that Diego was alive, but it was no good. He had landed directly on his top vertebrae, snapping his neck. Even if he was alive, he'd be paralyzed for life. Pronounced dead in action, the show was called off immediately.
For Felix, it all was a blur. He barely could believe what had just happened, nor could he really begin to really comprehend how he felt. He was effectively numb - all the way from first witnessing his brother's death, to attending his funeral 3 days later. He spent hours on end, waiting alone in his hotel room, trying to reconcile the death. The obituaries and news stories he read told it all: "A horrible accident".
"Accident" he read. Felix had known Diego. He always wanted to get involved wherever he could, be it for good or for bad - so long as he came out on top, he'd accept a job. He knew that Diego was impulsive, and that he'd deal and take favors, regardless of their later consequences. He knew that Diego had made many enemies, because of this. And he knew that, one day, their vengeance would be the end of him.
And Felix knew. He was convinced; this was no accident.
All at once, his emotions flooded back in. The intense sorrow of losing his closest friend and family, the loathing of being unable to see what had lead up to this, and the intense rage and hatred towards those, whoever they were, who had set his brother up for his 'accident'. In his torrential state, Felix tore at the room, stripping the windows and bed, and disemboweling his sofa. He smashed down the decorations, knowing all well, but not caring about the expenses it'd cost him. It didn't matter, he already had paid too high a price. There was nothing left to lose.
As Felix ripped drawers from his dresser, he came across a familiar sight. His brother's mask. A fitting counterpart to the mask he had worn those days ago, when he was performing. Versus Felix' black, crescent mask, Diego's was a full-face, white mask. Holding it in his hands, Felix suddenly felt sedate - this was the answer. If he were to find his brother's killer, he'd have to know more of him. He would take his place - a ghost of vengeance, collecting every debt that his brother could've created. It was something Felix couldn't accomplish alone, but with this mask, he knew that it'd somehow be all right.
Felix donned his mask. All at once, Felix felt complete and serene. He felt as if his brother Diego was back at his side, teaching him once again how to use his rapier. He remembered those countless hours of rehearsal, learning his greatest acrobatic feats once again. Felix, in his mind, was now complete. Now capable of taking his revenge, Felix assumed his Facade, and marked his most immediate target. No syndicate, no gang, would be safe from 'The White Moon' - Known only to the public by his codename: "Facade".
"Good can be found in heights, even in the deepest pits of evil" but "The valleys of evil always exist in the mountains of good."
~me
Contrary to popular belief, they don't keep portals hanging open like trans-universal barn doors. Open, step through, close. Less chance for something to go wrong that way.
"Ready, Sister Silicon?" Capt. Virtanen was the excursion commander for this exploration mission, and his no-nonsense professionalism was well respected.
Moira Mullins toed the black-and-yellow striped line on the ramp. "Ready, Captain."
Virtanen nodded at Moira, then turned to the control room. "On your signal, Control."
A woman's voice squawked over the PA system. "Opening in 3... 2... 1..."
With a loud WHOOSH and a flash of light, the portal opened. Moira jogged into the light.
A split second later, a chunk of metal the size of a coffee table shot back through, sheared off on the edge of the portal. Virtanen caught a glimpse of green paint as it hit the railing and flew into the wall of the chamber.
With a loud SHOOMP, the portal closed.
Virtanen un-holstered his sidearm as he approached the metal object. "Control, status report!"
"We're receiving Sister Silicon's beacon signal, but there's no other response-- Wait, this can't be right. The signal is coming from Pi Mu 44-58, not Tau Mu 0-9. Don't tell me we got another flux redirection..." Her voice trailed off as she typed commands into the console.
The sheared-off edges of whatever the object was faced Virtanen, still glowing in a few spots. He circled it and found something identifiable: A headlight and part of a wheel from a car. He looked back toward the ramp and spied a chunk of plastic hubcap, a dirty and scratched Holden logo in the middle.
"We'll deal with the redirect later. For now, keep trying to contact her. Even if she doesn't answer, maybe the person who just hit her with a car will."
--- --- --- ---
The driver jumped out of his car quickly, scrambling to reach whoever he just hit. He found Moira lying face down on the road. Neither the heroic cape and paint job nor the dents and scratches in her shell took him aback at all. He just pulled out his mobile phone.
"Gavin? It's Tamati. Can you come down and pick me up? I'm about half-way up the hill... Long story short, I hit somebody with the ute. She's incapacitated... Android, duh. I'd be calling a bloody ambulance if she was human, not you... Nah, I just finished refurbing that Korean witsec job... Yeah, thanks. I gotta go. Need a flatbed for the ute... Uh-huh. Bye."
Tamati thanked his lucky stars that the road to his home/workshop was private. He didn't have to worry about anybody else coming up with the gate closed. As he talked to the towing company, he surveyed the damage to his car. He was amazed to find the driver-side front corner completely missing, cut away far too neatly for anything short of an industrial laser. He scanned the area around him, looking for some trace of the missing section, but found nothing except a few chunks of the plastic wheel cover. He heard the crunch of tires on the dirt road.
Gavin pulled up in a New Zealand Police staff car. The retired detective still wore the police-issued body he used when he was a beat cop, blue-and-yellow checkerboard livery matching the car, but with the "POLICE" identifiers painted over in white. He walked over to Moira's prone form and looked down. "What's all this, then?"
"Came out of nowhere, literally. Like some kind of, I dunno, rift opened up right in front of me. She walked out and boom. Oh, s***, I think I figured out where the missing chunk of the ute went."
"Missing chunk?" He took a closer look at the ute and noticed the sliced-off section of its front end. "Bloody hell. Must've landed wherever she came from, I guess. I hope they don't think we were counter-attacking or something. Weaponized Commodore fenders." Gavin chuckled and knelt down beside Moira, knee servos whining in protest. Gavin noticed Tamati's glance. "Yes, yes, there's a reason they decommissioned the Patrol 300s. Rift, eh? Welcome, android superhero from another dimension."
Tamati lifted the cape to examine her back, and found an access panel partially dislodged. "Well that's an odd place for a panel." He gently lifted the panel, careful to keep it on its hinges, and peered inside. "Where's her Soulcore... Oh, f*** me! That looks like some kind of life support system. Help me get her in the car, now!"
"She's a cyborg?" Gavin grabbed her by the shoulders as Tamati grabbed her feet. "What, like a brain in a jar?"
"Full conversion. The Russian military experimented with this in the early '90s." They lifted her, carried her to the car, and laid her across the back seat. "Dammit, I should have checked that right away," Tamati said. "We'd just upload somebody in whatever situation this poor woman went through. I shouldn't have assumed they'd use the same technology where she came from."
Gavin climbed into the driver's seat. "For all you knew, that rift could have come from this universe. What if somebody in, I dunno, Scotland was experimenting with this stuff?" He put the car in reverse, and accelerated up the hill.
"Scotland?"
"Ireland, maybe? I don't know. Big Celtic women materializing in roads is a new experience for both of us! You're not thinking of uploading her, are you?"
"She's been lying there with no medical attention after getting hit by a car, and I saw nothing but red lights inside her. If this is going to turn into a s***storm, I'd be much happier if she lived through it."
Gavin drove past the house to pull up to a nondescript cinder block building. They pulled Moira out of the car, took her inside, and laid her on a workbench. Tamati pulled the panel open again and examined Moira's braincase. "I don't even know if an uploader will read through this material."
Gavin grabbed a cylindrical device with a crystal section in the middle and a box with strange cable attached to it from a nearby cabinet. "One way to find out."
Tamati grabbed the end of the cable and looked for a place to attach it to Moira while Gavin connected the cylinder to a port on top of the box. "Here, this looks like the main interface. Closest thing to a spinal cord we're gonna find." He moved the end of the cable toward a thick bundle of wires attached to the top of the braincase. Tendrils reached out from the end of the cable and wrapped around the connection point. "Did that work?"
"Holy s***, we're getting a clear read. I will never understand how these things work. Start the upload?"
Tamati frowned as he considered what he was about to do to this mysterious woman. "Do it."
--- --- --- ---
Moira Mullins existed.
At that moment, her identity was the only point of data in her neural network, her first true thought. She already had memories; dry, impersonal logs of her operating system's functions, her interface with the uploader, initialization routines, I/O control, retroactively and spontaneously entering her cognitive awareness.
One microsecond later, the flood began. Neural connections, devoid of context, abstract, like the pixels of a massive image filling in at random, one by one. Eventually, knowledge begins to take shape. Memories, skills, emotions coalesce. Not merely random after all, but a complex, chaotic function.
A second channel opens. A second set of memories. No, information. Moira was now an artificial intelligence. A necessary process to preserve society. 1974. A supervillain named Dr. Destroyer is killed. A dead-man's switch. Satellites releasing a mutagen. Widespread infertility. No cure. Scientific breakthroughs, made in desperation. Optronic processors, holo-crystal matrix storage, zero-point energy capture, integrated into a cylinder called a Soulcore. Self-contained, self-powered, theoretically tamper-proof, standardized interface. Plug-and-play. 1978. First successful Soulcore transfers. Crude mechanical bodies. Thirty years of advancement. Flourishing android culture. Growing superhero subculture.
Still no cure.
Transfers complete. Disconnected from uploader. Connected to android body. Set execution pointer to 0x0000AB000000CD00 to initialize.
They're not there in the beginning, but when your story ends / Gonna last with you longer than your friends
There is just no way to make vomiting look cute. I've tried. There's just no way to cover those awful retching noises. No way to make them sound like a playful giggle. There's no way to hide the smell and, while the consistency of the sick can vary from creamy to super chunk, it's always nasty.
The missing bucket should have been my first clue. Damon usually leaves one nearby after a jaunt. He knows what time travel can do to me. The foul things that spilled from my mouth spread out all over the shiny metal floor of the oddly cobbled together device. I pulled out a moist towelette to wipe my mouth and popped a breath mint. Utility belt for the win!
"I'm so sorry," I said as I slowly tried to get to my feet. "I will totally clean it up. I don't think I hit anything vital, but I'm not sure I could recognize anything vital. There's something blinking down there. Could that be important?" I looked around, surprised by the quiet and dark room. I'm usually better at noticing the little details I confess, but hey! I was just trying to prevent yacking up a major organ on the floor.
"Juryrig?" I called, quietly. I stuck out my lower lip and puffed my bangs away from my forehead as I slid my a pair of ironwood sticks from their custom sheathes. The wooden shafts provided some comfort as I pistoled them, resting each on a shoulder, ready for use. "That was a pretty rough trip, huh?" I slowly stepped off the platform of the huge portal. "I can't remember one like that before." I made a few more steps into the room, flipping on the low light optics in my visor. Creepy green shadows did nothing to calm me. This is what I get for watching way too many zombie films.
The loud noise from the other side of the laboratory door sent me behind some console. I'm not an idiot. It's all in those movies. How long you live depends on how well you hide. The lights came on. The robots came in first, then the hunchbacked figure. "Juryrig!" I stood up from behind the panel. "Bagger schijten!* You scared me to death! First the rough ride. Then no bucket and…" His mechanical eye whirled as it looked at me. For being an engineering genius, his creations made a lot of noise.
"What is…. ahhh breakdown of the temporal capacitor?" I asked like I knew what I was talking about. Liberal Arts girl here. Five and a half language and not a hard science credit past astronomy to my name. The misshapen man made another step towards me, his robots spreading out to flank. I took a step back, only to find my way blocked by another console. "A, hmmmm, misalignment of the flux generator?" The eye bore down on me. "For the love of all that's holy, Juryrig! Why are you staring at me?"
The eye stopped its annoying buzz as it finally found focus. His breath stank enough to make me wonder if I could attack him with spare mints. I leaned back as he leaned forward. "Young lady," his voice rolled out with the toxic fumes from between his lips, "who are you? How do you know my name? What are you doing in the chrono-lab?"
- a Dutch phrase. Literally, "****ting mud," meaning really scared.
You kind of want to hate him. He is the highest profile superhero on the planet. He sets the bar for nearly anyone that puts on a mask. He's way too perfect for words and you'd think that would grate on you. But up close, Defender is just a really, really nice guy. He makes a great cup of hot cocoa, one that just wraps you up in a sweet warm chocolaty hug.
How Witchcraft doesn't break out from all the spirit gum she has to use to keep all her lady bits covered in combat is a secret I must learn if I ever decide to wear a skanky heroine costume.
I only broke down once while Defender, Witchcraft, and Juryrig talked with me. It settled in that somewhere, Va and Veena would be waiting for me. I almost threw up again when I realized how Va would feel. It would be like losing mom all over. They let me cry for a full fifteen minutes. Damon assured me he would try to get word to them, even if he couldn't send me back. It wouldn't be the last time I would heave and sob at the thought of never seeing my friends and family again.
It turns out the Champions plan for this type of thing, misplaced temporal travelers. I spent a few days in the care of UNTIL learning about the present day while they made sure I wasn't a supervillian looking to harvest winning lottery numbers or launch some other nefarious plan. Fortunately, my time wasn't too different from this time. If I waited long enough, I might even be here for when poutine gets popular in the States.
One difference left me staring blankly at a monitor for a good 45 minutes.
They hadn't married here, at least not yet. I found a few pictures of them together; smiling, young, glamorous. I teared up at the images of mom. She looked just like I remembered her. I wiped the wetness from my eyes. I had already spent too much time crying over the last few days and that beautiful, smart, and brave woman in the picture had been gone from my life for a long time.
He hadn't, though, and a younger version than I knew lived in town. They warn you about meeting people from your own past, how it can cause paradoxes and remove your very own self from existence. But I didn't exist here. I arrived a full year after I was supposed to be born and the couple that had married, did the nasty, then had me, never got hitched in this reality. OK, they probably got conjugal before they got marital. I'm cool with that. But…
I double checked the birth records, co-relating the time my parents in this reality started dating. I've been trained by one of the best detectives out there. When I finished, I could conclusively say I did not exist until the moment I arrived almost a week ago. Puto ergo ego sum non. I think therefore I am not.
I looked at his picture for a long time before I made a decision. How different could he be from my Va? Younger yeah…. But…. I swallowed. If I let it go, it would always plague me. I would poke at it like a healing scab. It would itch and itch until I gave it a scratch. I didn't think for a moment I would pull my hand away bloody, just that the itch would be satisfied. I had to see him.
One broken nose later, I would find myself re-thinking the whole idea.
Money isn't everything, but it provides options. The 20 Troy ounces of gold sewn into my utility belt provided me a nice shopping spree through Millennium City's more posh neighborhoods. The clothing seemed so seven years ago, but I was able to find some Agent Provocateur unmentionables; a skirt, jacket, and top by Vera Wang; and a darling clutch purse by Tanaka. I inherited my fashion sense from my mom. Considering where I was going, I thought it best to honor her by dressing the part.
Seeing the awning on the building left me slack jawed on the streets for a few minutes. My Vuarnet's slid ever so slightly down my nose. It looked just the same. I spent my childhood running through the kitchens and up and down the stairs of that restaurant. I learned to cook from some of the world's best chefs over the massive Viking range in the back. I would sit on Unca Takeru's shoulders as he prepared an evening's meals, falling asleep delicately perched there, my head resting in his toque.
My face started to hurt as Amarita showed me to a table. I couldn't keep away the smile. It tickled me to see so many young faces of old friends, the people that helped raise me as an extended family. I kept it together, bouyed by the pleasant memories of a child: hiding in that corner, listening to the DJ playing on the roof as I sipped hand made lemonade from an out of the way spot in the upstairs kitchen, watching Mom and Va salsa to the music of Mambo 911. I kept it together until I saw him.
There was no mistaking him. His hair had more blonde and less gray. His body seemed smaller and more agile. The lavender, Mark Shale shirt stretched across his well defined chest. A loose, pink silk tie hung from his neck as he moved through the light afternoon crowd, welcoming and visiting with customers and employees alike. That smile, that welcoming and warm smile; I felt safe every time I saw it. That was my father, my Va, Chance Thomas.
I made the mistake of taking off my sunglasses to wipe away a tear. Of course he noticed. Va had some undenyable sense of when I felt hurt or upset. I looked up to find him hovering at the side of my table. "Miss? Are you alright, miss?" My eyes looked deeply into his. There's only one other person in the world that has my eye color. He nailed it on the first try. He choked on it like a chicken bone in his throat, his mind unable to swallow what his senses conveyed.
"You're Korinna Arasaka's daughter."
I stood up, feeling fresh tears on my cheeks. I couldn't quite catch my breath as the events of the week started to catch up to me. He couldn't recognize me, my nose, the way I was gnawing at my lip as I stood there, unsteady on my feet. I felt the sick start to rise in my stomach. I put one hand on the table and he leaned closer. "Miss?"
I punched him, shocked at the cracking noise made when my fist connected with his nose. My voice sound shrill in the space. "I'm your daughter!"
I fled to the street, eager for air. Maybe that wasn't my father. In ten years of sparing with him I could never land a punch. Those swirling winds that whip around him deflect every blow or bullet. My legs took me just far enough to collapse in a heap on the curb. For the upteemth time that week, I just couldn't stop the tears.
"Mercedes?" I looked around, my eyes settling on Va. Crimson stained the white napkin he had grabbed to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. He stood a few meters away, struggling to talk through the one hand pressed to his face. I nodded. "We always talked about what we would name our children. Kori and I wanted to name any daughters after our mothers." The chuckled sounded weird through the linen. "We were going to flip a coin. Did I lose?"
I shook my head and left a long trail of slime on my Vera Wang jacket as I wiped at my face and nose. "You won. You decided Anges sounded too much like an old name to give a new life." I sniffed and sniffled.
"That sounds like me."
"Because it is you." I dragged my sleeve across my nose again. "It was you. It was supposed to be you about a year ago at Arasaka Castle."
"I don't think I understand," the man who would have been my father confessed. Blood from his nose, dribbled down his hand and arm to fall on his shirt and pavement.
"Welcome to my world," I sniffed.
"Shouldn't I be saying, welcome to mine?" I giggled in spite of myself. He titled his head, "Desi?" The sound of the word sounded right to his ears. It should have. He's the only one who ever calls me that. "Desi, I'm not sure I'm the guy you think I am, but," he gestured back towards Kori's, "I think we have a lot to talk about. Would you like to come back inside?"
I stood up, nodding. I wiped my nose on the other sleeve and ambled towards him. I didn't mean to, but my hand slipped into his as we walked. It felt softer than I remembered, but still warm and comforting. "I taught you that punch, didn't I?" he asked.
"Yeah." I nodded again, smelling the comfort of him as we walked together so closely .
"You only get one for free, you know?" he told me. I chuckled. "I've been working to get that one in for a long time." We stopped under the awning of Kori's. All those familiar faces looked out at us from the doorway, unsure. I looked up at him. "Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
He laughed, fresh blood dripping on his shirt. "You might actually be my child." We walked into the restaurant together. This was my father. He may not have known it yet, but this was my Va.
"I'll say one thing about the Champions," Eddie said in his Cuban accented Spanish, "they keep excellent records and they are willing to share with the police." The police lieutenant passed Chance the tablet then picked up his demitasse from the table and took a sip of coffee. Chance bit his lip as he began to read through the file. "The young lady's story checks out. Any word on DNA testing?"
"Should come in later this afternoon," Chance responded without looking up. "Arasaka Corp is doing the analysis. They are all over this."
"I would expect so. Have you talked to Kori?" Chance nodded before answering. "She expressed regret at my pending divorce, even."
"That was thoughtful of her," Eddie smiled without a hint of sarcasm.
"I thought so." The blonde man set down the tablet before looking across the table. "Mercedes doesn't want to see her, right now. She tells me she's not ready. Kori and I have decided to respect that, but I expect to start seeing Arasaka Shinobis tailing Des any day now."
The small cup pressed to his lip, the blond man paused before speaking again. "I think the test will come back conclusively. She's our biological daughter, even if she's not from this reality."
"Any idea what happened?"
"Kori once told me that she faked her death to confuse Luther Black's profane senses and other abilities. The events in Des' world and this one seem to diverge around that moment. Des was returning to her own era after a mission near that point. It's possible Kori's actions muddled things more than anyone anticipated." Chance returned his cup to its tiny saucer. "Kori never faked her death in Des' reality. We married after that mess on Easter Island and had one child." His face darkened. "Kori and I didn't face Orochi in that timeline until much later, either."
"What's next for you, Chance? Do I need to...."
"You do not need to tell me to be careful, Eddie," Chance interrupted in the time honored Cuban practice. "I'm sore enough as it is, right now." He took a deep breath. "I think she's the real deal. She knows things, things you only tell family. She knows the dialog to all three film version of The Count of Monte Cristo. I mention "The Anjou Wine" and Desi asks how many doors the house has. She descended into hysterics when I told her my nickname for Mac, utterly shocked that I would seriously date, let alone marry anyone who hadn't read __Foucault's Pendulum__. She is occasionally "shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!.'"
Chance slowly exhaled before saying. "It feels right, socio." Eddie smiled, hoping this time the "right" feeling wouldn't lead to renewed heartbreak.
"I'm already in the CFSM* system. Given the circumstances, they are willing to let me foster her without the usual red tape. She's been accepted to the Guardians Academy. She'll spend weekdays there and weekends with me. I have plenty of room."
"I'll take this as slow as I can," Chance tried to assure his mentor. "Juryrig is trying to get a message to her other family and might even be able to send her back, one day. That's how I plan to take it, just one day at a time."
I like it. It's a sort of re introduction of characters for those who've been here longer than others. A chance to reprint an old story or revamp some fatal flaws that sometimes inevitably happen.
Perhapse I've I shall make an entry. Should it be done here or will it be here that they will continue to be presented till further notice?
Tamati nodded and said, "Of course. My name is Tamati Afeaki, and this is my colleague Gavin Pryce."
Moira stood up and shook their hands. "Moira Mullins. Now at the risk of being rude, I know how to save her." She pointed at the neat rows of screwdrivers hanging on a pegboard above the workbench. "I hope one of those is a T15 Torx. Oh, and I'll need some clothes." She measured her height against Tamati with her hand and studied the height of the workbench. "And a box to stand on. My God, I haven't been this short since I was in sixth grade."
Gavin beckoned Moira to the workbench. "Tamati, grab her a shirt or something. Moira, I don't mean to make a bigger deal about your, uh, newly found diminutive stature, but the Torx drivers are on the top row." Tamati jogged back to the house.
"No sweat. It's not like yinz could go shopping for a six-foot-four ginger off the rack. Take it from a six-foot-four ginger who can't shop for clothes off the rack." Moira looked at herself, her old self, lying on the table. "You know, being a full-conversion cyborg, you always keep the possibility of making The Last Upgrade in the back of your mind... I never thought it would be a copy instead of a move."
Gavin kicked a stool out from under the bench. "You are from another universe, right? Because legally, we're supposed to be euthanizing your original, but I'll be damned if I'll impose that on you if you're not from here."
"Oh, yeah, definitely another universe. And considering that the portal opened in the middle of the road, I don't think I'm in the universe I was supposed to go to, either. You didn't find my comlink, did you?" She stepped up onto the stool as Gavin reached for the screwdriver.
"Comlink?"
"I guess not. I'll be looking for that shortly. Thank you." She accepted the screwdriver from Gavin, and looked under the panel for something under a dent in the left shoulder. "Yep, that pushed the wiring harness out. Fortunately, there's a little slack in there..." She fiddled around in there for a minute. "Done. Now we just have to wait for the life support system to wake her from emergency sleep. That'll take a half-hour or so."
A compartment in Gavin's right thigh opened as his phone started ringing. He picked it up and flipped it open. "Yes...? Oh, yeah, the flatbed. While you're running down there, could you look for Moira's comlink...? I don't know. Moira, what does the comlink look like?"
"It looks like a Blackberry."
"You mean a Boysenberry?"
"Um, probably. Typical smartphone, square screen on top, itty-bitty keyboard on the bottom, that ugly putty beige color."
"OK. Tamati, it looks like a Boysenberry, only beige... OK. Thanks." He closed the phone and put it back in the thigh compartment. "He has to run down the road and open the gate for the towing company. He'll look for that comlink while he's down there. Now to find some clothes on one of the other bodies in the storeroom..." He noticed that Moira had found the full length mirror in the back of the workshop.
"OK, now it's hitting me. You copied my mind into a neural network, and installed it in the body of a tiny Barbie doll." She turned to examine her body. Synthetic skin covered her head and arms, but from the shoulders down, her body was flesh-colored plastic, with embedded white panels emulating a bra and panties. "Wait, did you say 'other bodies'?"
"Yeah. Tamati works for Android Witness Protection, and I'm his technician. We're a government-contracted swap shop."
"Swap shop... You have something either less or more realistic? I used to be in-between like this, and I worked long and hard to upgrade away from it."
"See for yourself." Gavin walked over to the storeroom door and unlocked it.
--- --- --- ---
Tamati returned with the comlink to find Moira wearing a bluish-grey hardbody, pinstriped in metallic gold, with an olive-skinned head and flowing black hair.
"I guess you solved the clothes problem. Sorry about that." He examined her new body. "That's a '91 Carteris SL-4. Didn't win any beauty pageants in its day, but it has great hands, and it's certainly taller. How does it feel?"
She did a couple of side bends. "A little stiff, but you're right about the hands. Gavin suggested it for working on my-- her repairs. That's gonna take some getting used to."
Tamati held up the comlink. "Oh, I couldn't find the battery door, so I hope this duct tape works." He handed the scratched-up, taped-up device to her.
She accepted it and tapped the power button. The screen lit up with a warning message:
FLUX REDIRECTION: PI-MU 44-58
"Yyyyyyep. Son of a b****. Nothing personal 'n'at, but I'm not even supposed to be here today. I gotta call home. Wait, my voiceprint doesn't match anymore."
"Whaddya mean, my voiceprint?" Everybody's head whipped around to look at the workbench.
Sister Silicon pushed herself up off the bench and swung her legs around to a sitting position. She put a hand up, fingers spread apart, arcs of electricity dancing between them, and pointed it at Moira.
"Yinz mind explaining to me what the hell you're doing with that comlink?"
They're not there in the beginning, but when your story ends / Gonna last with you longer than your friends
Bang Bang
"Bang Bang, he shot me down, bang bang, I hit the ground, Bang Bang, that awful sound..."
The words were sung low, from under the questionable light of a street lamp, directed at no one, just hanging in the chill night air, with dark oppressive tones. They seemed to speak to something from his past, some unknown, unseen tragedy. It didn't really matter. With a visible effort, the young man shook off the lyrics, and the song playing in his head, reaching down to silence the MP3 player he'd been listening to. He pulled out his ear buds, wrapping the cord around the small electronic, and then tucking the items neatly into one of the pockets of his newly acquired utility belt.
Frayed and worn in some places, the belt in question had definitely seen better days. He had a mind to fix that up, maybe repaint it. For now though, it looked the same as when he'd picked it up at the Army Surplus store, a dirty olive green. It looked as good as anything else he had. The two holsters he wore were much the same, the only exception being the gleaming 1911 colts that hung from them. Whereas the holsters and belt were frayed and worn, the pair of colts could very well have been freshly minted. Each had been faithfully restored, oiled, and now sat ready, their safeties on, gleaming in the low light. When he touched them, it was with the same care that one might hold a child. They were his pride and joy, and each had gotten out of more scrapes than he cared to admit.
In contrast to the pistols at his hips, his other weapons, a pair of Ninjato strapped across his back, seemed an almost comedic element. With their small size, and odd placement, it was an open question if they were even worth the weight. The man had no such questions. As a mercenary of some standing, he'd gotten used to the idea that bullets tended to run out at bad times, and it made him feel a thousand times better to know he had a backup available. Not that he'd quite mastered how to use them, not yet anyway.
The final element of his costume was the mask. He'd looked at various styles and designs, and had even toyed with a classical split mask a few times, before deciding on this number. Black, with orange tiger stripes running down the face. It had a nice style, and it gave him a grin to look at it. It also did a good job of matching his wardrobe, an orange t-shirt, and black jeans. The jeans matched the black combat boots on his feet, and the black pistol gloves he wore over his hands, to avoid leaving prints.
It wasn't a bad look overall, but he had plans to improve on it. Tonight was more a test run. He'd spent a long time tracing the globe, moving from one conflict to another, fighting for a dozen causes, and picking up a decent paycheck from all. Now was his chance to come home, and repay some of the debt he owed this city.
Right on time, the Purple Line eighteen wheeler drove down the street, not even slowing as it passed the man under the streetlight, paying no mind to his apparel. That suited the man just fine. Without apparent effort, he broke into a run behind it, jumping up, and latching himself onto the rear doors, using the strength in his powerful forearms to lever himself over the edge, and onto the roof of the trailer. He ducked low then, watching as they rapidly crossed the city streets. As he knelt there, waiting for their arrival, the man reflected back to one of his form CO's, an Australian who had responded to similar stunts by the young man, by giving him the call sign 'Deathwish.' At the time, the young man had taken that as a compliment, even if it was not intended as one. Now, embarked against a one man crusade against organized crime in Westside, the young man decided that it was as appropriate a name as any for who he was.
Deathwish suited him just fine.
When the truck pulled up to the gate, Deathwish laid himself flat upon the trailer, waiting breathlessly as pleasantries were exchanged. This particular truck ran this route twice a night, so there wasn't much in the way of a security check. Once it had pulled inside and parked, Deathwish waited for the driver to exit, and then rolled over the side. He kept low and to the shadows as he made his way through the shipping yard, keeping his eyes open. The intelligence he'd squeezed out of Tony said that Poe was around here somewhere, doubtless plotting some sort of bullcrap plan to melt all the cities popsicles or something.
Honestly, Deathwish wasn't terribly interested in what precisely he was up to. He was just the first gang leader on his list.
Making his way across the yard, he stepped up to the door to the main office, considering for just a moment the number's he'd gotten for how many people worked the shipping yard this time of night. He was looking at fifteen, maybe twenty on the outside. Not a terribly difficult firefight, but definitely a situation where his old CO would have suggested exercising caution.
That would be why Deathwish knocked out the office door's window, and threw in a flash bang before he entered, kicking open the door, and then somersaulting inside, his pistols at the ready.
"Surprise!"
Unsurprisingly the guards didn't seem terribly interested in casual conversation, and Deathwish was moving before he even heard their gunfire. Dodging behind a crate, he heart it being ripped asunder by plentiful gunfire. Machine guns, nice.
Jumping forward into the line of fire, Deathwish unleashed his own hail of bullets, taking down both guards with just a few rounds, even as his own form was riddled with fire. They hadn't been expecting him to just jump out, and that had cost them. Of course it'd cost him a few bullet wounds, but whats a little riddling between friends.
Taking the time to pry one of the slugs out, Deathwish watched as the wound regenerated, grinning behind his full face mask. Nanites were definitely doing their job.
Of course the two guards weren't healing quite as nice. They were both out cold, and had he been using real munitions, they would have been dead. Thankfully, these mercy round the doc had come up with seemed to be working fine for the not killing department.
Now, where to find Poe...
Several minutes, and pile of unconscious bodies later, Deathwish stood before the purple haired freak in question, who for reasons known only to himself, had decided to dress himself up in a gas mask and trench coat. Neither of which, as it turned out, were bullet proof. He'd gotten in some good shots himself, and tried using some sort of dark tentacly stuff too, but it hadn't been enough to more than slow the mercenary down. Now it just came down to turning off whatever the crap this machine was.
Deathwish pondered the machine for a good five minutes, trying to figure out just what it was supposed to do. Poe had gone on about it melting people's brains or something, but who really listened to that sort of monologuing. Still, never hurts to check with this sort of thing. Taking care to alias his number, Deathwish took a pic with his cellphone camera, and texted it to that doofus in the white and blue. Defendo? Avenger?
Whatever. He'd know what to do with this crap.
Deathwish simply satisfied himself with scooping up Poe, and carrying him along to the city prison, dropping him off there for proper dispensation.
One down, four to go.
Moira looked down at the ground and muttered, "Damn. Now for the hard part." She looked back up at her old self. "Moira, I'ma pull the band-aid off. These gentlemen here, with the best of intentions, attempted to save your life by uploading your mind into the neural network of an android. That's me. I repaired you and woke you from emergency sleep. Which took a surprisingly short time, by the way."
Sister Silicon lowered her hand. "Waitaminute. You're a copy of my brain? Prove it."
Moira shuffled her feet for a moment, considering her response. "Remember the '97 Homecoming game? I snuck behind the groundskeeper's shed with Deshawn Malveaux, and--"
Sister Silicon threw her hands up to stop Moira. "OK, OK, that's all any bystanders need to hear. Holy s***." She slouched, rubbing her face in her hands. Tamati and Gavin lowered their arms, looking at each other with concern.
"So..." Sister Silicon looked up at Moira. "How are you keeping your head through this?"
Moira walked over to her original and put an arm around her. "Like I said, best of intentions. I can't blame Tamati and Gavin here for taking what they felt was the best course of action when faced with a full-conversion cyborg they had no idea how to fix. Now we have to deal with the consequences, but at least we're both alive to deal with them. Let's start with my name, for instance."
Gavin spoke up. "What about flipping your first and middle names?"
Both Moiras said at the same time, "Star Trek did it," which prompted some giggling. "Okay, so I haven't diverged that much yet!" the android said.
"Besides, we never liked 'Catherine' that much," the cyborg replied.
"Any other family names that sound good?" Tamati offered.
They thought for a moment. Finally, the android said, "Siobhan, after Nana Flaherty."
"Siobhan Mullins. I like it. You're gonna miss the alliteration, though," Moira said.
Siobhan nodded. "True. I'm breaking a grand old superhero tradition."
"Peter Parker and Lois Lane would be so disappointed."
Tamati approached them. "Mo-- Siobhan, I know somebody who can customize a body to look more like, well, like Moira. If that's what you want, I mean..." He trailed off, unsure if he should even be broaching the subject.
Siobhan and Moira looked at each other. "So, are you OK with having a twin?" Siobhan asked.
Moira paused, then said, "Sure. I've met a few alternates of myself over the years, and I've wished I hadn't met at least one. If I have to share a face, I feel better knowing for sure who she really is." She leaned over and gave Siobhan a big, sisterly hug.
Tamati smiled. "Great! I'll call my cousin. If she's not busy, she can drive down from Christchurch in about 20 minutes."
"Christchurch? Oh, so this is New Zealand. I couldn't place your accents," Moira said as Tamati dialed his cousin.
Siobhan nodded. "Yeah, we're about 1.05 kilometers north-north-east of Governors Bay, which I know because I have integrated GPS."
"Oh, are you trying to make me jealous?" Moira smirked. "Because I can fly to Governors Bay from here."
"Yeah, well I know where we keep the spares, so I can have superpowers and GPS." Siobhan stuck out her tongue at Moira to punctuate.
--- --- --- ---
About 30 minutes later, a Holden Monaro pulled up to the workshop.
Tamati looked up and said, "Ooh, Manaia's here. Wait until you see her new body. She's been working on this for months. Believe me, she's her own best reference."
The door opened, and out stepped the most beautiful hardbody android Siobhan and Moira had seen in five years as a superhero. She had a lean, willowy build, with carbon fiber body panels finished in a deep red clear coat. Her head was natural, with an angular face like Tamati and a cascade of auburn curls on top. But it was the gold ta moko that completely covered the left half of her body, from her neck to the tips of her fingers and toes, that elevated the design from beautiful to exquisite.
Gavin's jaw dropped. "Oh, my word, Manaia. When I saw that in the shop, it just had a few dabs of gold on the shoulder. That. Is. Mag. Nificent."
Manaia smiled and raised up on the balls of her feet, and stiletto heels popped out from the soles. "Why thank you, daaahhhling. Enough to make you want to finally get some upgrades?"
"You know me. I ran every car I owned until the wheels wouldn't stay on."
Manaia pouted. "Aw, so you'll be replacing the ute first."
"I'm still holding out hope they can replace the missing chunk of the front end."
"Chunk? What the bloody hell did Tamati do to that thing?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Well, it sounds like we'll have time for stories." She turned to face Moira and Siobhan. "So, which one of you lovelies is to be my muse?"
Moira raised her hand. "Hi, I'm Moira. This is my, uh, sister, Siobhan."
Manaia kissed Moira on each cheek. "Relax, love. Tamati explained the situation on the drive over." She kissed Siobhan, too. "So how's the digital life treating you so far?"
"So far, so good." She stepped back and held her arms out so Manaia could get a look at her body. "So, this feels pretty good. Can you work with it, or do you have something else in mind."
"Well, 'feels good' goes a long way." Manaia tilted her head, then made a circle with her finger. As Siobhan turned around, Manaia said, "That skinny a**, not so much. You like your curves?"
Siobhan replied, "Damn straight, I love my curves!" Moira give Siobhan a little hip-check for emphasis.
Manaia beckoned with a finger. "Come with me, then, girls. My showroom awaits. Oh, and Moira, my dear? Lose the cape."
They're not there in the beginning, but when your story ends / Gonna last with you longer than your friends
Challenge #2 - Best Fight Scene
Challenge #2 - Best Fight Scene Discussion & Criticism
I think it will help with the flow.))