A Chance Encounter

"Hi," said a cheery voice. "You're the new girl, aren't you?"

Julie Hendrix looked up to see a talking panther sitting on a tree-limb ahead. She gasped and startled back, but the beast didn't move. "Hi," it said again, more slowly, then drew itself up until it was a panther-shaped girl instead. 

"What--" Julie suddenly remembered her manners. "I'm sorry. You startled me."

The beast-girl nodded. "I've been practicing."

"To startle me?"

"No, to startle... people in general. Sorry. People around here tend to be pretty laid-back."

"Yes, well, I'm still getting used to the weirdness." Julie softened her tone. "Did you want something?"

The beast-girl nodded and dropped lightly to the ground. "So, some of us will be having a fire out here on Saturday night. I thought you might like to join us."

"Oh," said Julie, taken aback. "That's... very kind of you. I-- I'll think about it?"

"No pressure," said the girl immediately. "I just thought maybe you could use some more friends."

"...I probably could," Julie admitted. That was the mission, after all. "All right, I'll come join you. Where will it be?"

"Goblin will probably find you, but if they don't just... follow the smell of smoke. You'll see the firelight before too long. I'm Nightfox, by the way. "

"Pebbles," Julie replied.

Metamorphoses and Magic, Part Four

"What should I start with?" asked Abby. "Fire?"

Sophia shook her head. "Fire's unpredictable. Let's start with something simple and safe: air. I'm going to teach you a set of very simple words and gestures. Don't worry about what they mean -- not yet, anyway. The important part right now is for you to fill them with some of your own energy, and then release them into that space you sensed earlier." 

"Um," said Abby. "What's it do?" 

"Just a little puff of wind," Sophia told her. "Enough for me to feel it, though if you succeed we'll feel it in the magic itself."

"Okay," said Abby, relaxing slightly. "Okay, I can do that."

Sophia spoke the phrase and Abby did her best to echo it; it took several tries before she had it down. Then they went through the gestures, and  getting the timing to do them together. 

To Sophia's apparent surprise, a tiny gust of wind appeared on Abby's first try. She shook her head, grinning. "Lyceus was right. You're a prodigy. It takes most apprentice mages weeks to manage even that much -- to make that connection and push it out."

Abby felt herself grinning too. "It helps that I got to feel you and Lyceus doing it," she said. 

"It does," Sophia agreed.  "It helped me, too. But that kind of sensitivity... again, most apprentices will spend weeks -- if not months -- on basic workings like this before they even begin to develop some sensitivity to what they're doing."

"Huh," said Abby. "So my power isn't just changing me, it also makes me sensitive to magic."

"Changing you?" asked Sophia.

"Yeah." Abby looked away. "That's why I was in such a hurry to, um, be with your brother."

Sophia put a hand over her eyes. "I should not know this."

"While I'm still human, or human-looking, I mean. My power's changing me, transforming me into something else. It's slow, unless I get hurt. Then I heal fast, but instead of normal scars my flesh is different."

"Well, that's, um..." Sophia hesitated.

"Terrifying," Abby supplied. "I don't talk about it much. Cat knows, and I have a monthly checkup with Ms. Campbell, but... it would be really nice if it had an upside to it, like letting me do magic."

"Well," said Sophia, "I think we can safely say that it does that."

Challenge: Books from Social Media

Prompt: Books I Discovered On Social Media

So, so many books. I don't even know where to start on this one, and honestly I'm not sure how well I can distinguish the ones I heard about on Social Media from the ones I might have found through other channels. But I'd guess that easily half and probably as much as three-quarters of the books I buy are one I first heard about on social media.

Looking through recent purchases or pre-orders... Let's see...

The Never List, Jade Presley. The four princes of Lumathyst need a mate, and everyone wants a chance...except for her.

The Fealty of Monsters, Volume One, Ladz. Winter 1917. After years on the run from a dangerous cult, twenty-three-year-old Sasza and his father have established themselves among the Odonic Empire’s ruling class. But there’s a problem: Sasza is a vampire, and vampires aren’t supposed to get involved in human governance

Careless People: A Cautionary Tale of Power, Greed, and Lost Idealism, Sarah Wynn-Williams. Sarah Wynn-Williams tells the wrenching but fun story of Facebook, mapping its rise from stumbling encounters with juntas to Mark Zuckerberg’s reaction when he learned of Facebook’s role in Trump’s election. She experiences the challenges and humiliations of working motherhood within a pressure cooker of a workplace, all while Sheryl Sandberg urges her and others to “lean in.”

Twice as Dead, Harry Turtledove. Rudolf Sebestyen is missing, and Marianne Smalls is involved in an illicit affair with the shady Jonas Schmitt. Both cases converge when Dora Urban, Rudolf’s beautiful and mysterious half-sister, and Lamont Smalls, Marianne’s suspicious husband, hire Jack Mitchell, a hard-drinking, chain-smoking private investigator. Dora wants Jack to uncover what happened to her brother, while Lamont seeks proof of his wife’s infidelity. But Dora is a vampire, in a city teeming with creatures of the night.

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews.)

 

StV: Metamorposes and Magic, part three

"All right," said Sophia, sitting down across from Abby on the floor of one of the training rooms/raquetball courts beneath the gym. "Let's start with some theory. There are three primary ways to approach sorcery, and all of them have their risks."

Abby nodded, her entire attention focused on Sophia. 

"The First Power is to draw on your own energies. For small things, this is the safest approach: all the energy comes from you, so the only consequences are personal. It's more dangerous if you try to approach more powerful effects this way: you can exhaust yourself, age yourself, maybe even kill yourself, if you put too much energy into a spell. This is generally considered the fundamental magic, though, because mastering this ability allows you to access the other approaches. And with time and practice, you'll find your personal energies increasing. Some sorcerers never move beyond this."

She paused, and Abby nodded again. "Magic drawn from your own energies."

Sophia smiled. "The Second Power is to draw on the ambient energies in the world around you. All magic comes back to this, and this is what you're so sensitive to: regardless of how we power them, the effects we create affect the ambient magic in the world around us. That's why you could sense my conjured flame, even though it was a minor effect that I created with the First Power. The Second Power allows you draw from a larger pool of energy while using only enough of your own to tap into it and shape it. It varies in strength depending on your location -- it will be stronger near a ley line, and much stronger at a nexus. Fortunately, this school isn't anywhere near any of those."

Abby frowned. "Fortunately?"

Sophia nodded. "It's best to learn where magic is scarce," she said. "If you only know how to tap into it when it's plentiful, you'll be all but powerless in a place like this. But if you learn here..."

"Ah," said Abby. "Okay, that makes sense. Learn it the hard way, and excel in easier climes." 

Sophia offered an approving smile. "Exactly. The Third Power..." She scowled. "The Third Power has you draw energy -- and maybe even new abilities -- from beings beyond this world. For some sorcerers, it's a supplement to the First and Second; for others, it's their entire path. I avoid it, and I'd advise you to do the same; it requires petitioning or bargaining with things vastly more powerful than we are, which have their own agendas, and may not be entirely trustworthy, and may demand that you pledge complete loyalty to them. I'm not saying it can't be done, but as far as I'm concerned... well, for people as sensitive as us, it isn't worth the risk."

Abby nodded sharply. "Yeah, a big nope-out to that."

"Good," said Sophia. "Enough theory. Let's see what you can do with the First Power."

StV: Metamorphoses and Magic, part two

Abby was sitting on the porch, idly picking at her bass guitar -- nothing too loud, since it wasn't plugged into an amplifier -- when she felt the gathering of forces behind her and rose from her chair to spin around. 

Sophia was standing a few feet behind her, with a tiny tongue of flame dancing above her fingertips. "Di immortales," she breathed. "Well, you're right -- you're really sensitive. Come on, let's walk and talk. I don't share this kind of thing with just anybody..."

"Why not?" asked Abby. 

"Two reasons," Sophia told her. "First, it's the only edge I have out here, so there's a bit of paranoia. But second... it's dangerous. Dangerous to learn especially, but also dangerous to use." 

Abby followed her down the steps and out onto the tree-lined driveway. "But you use it all the time, don't you? I mean, in that fight..."

Sophia nodded. "No, you're right. It's..." She hesitated. "It's dangerous to use in the same way that electricity is dangerous to use. Or maybe guns. If you know what you're doing and you treat it with respect, it's a reliable tool. But the moment you get sloppy, bad things happen. Which is why I have to ask..." They were well away from the porch and the other students now. Off to their left, an impromptu game of dodgeball was forming, and there was a small circle of students reading various roles in Equus aloud off to their right, but nobody was paying them any attention. "...What exactly did Lyceus do that made you realize you could sense these things?"

Abby felt her face heat. She tried to suppress it, but she couldn't. "It was... just a little spell."

Sophia stopped, staring at her. "He didn't. You didn't--"

"We, um, did," Abby admitted. 

Sophia tilted her head back to look up at the sky. "I'm going to murder him."

"Please don't," Abby said. "It was my idea. I asked Cat to introduce us. And he was..." Oh, God. Was she really going to say this to Lyceus' sister? "...it was good. It was exactly what I wanted, and then some."

Sophia hesitated, then said: "I thought you said the two of you weren't an item." 

"We aren't!" Abby protested, and started walking again before they could draw any attention. "It was just one night. And I'm not saying he didn't get anything out of it, but he was doing me a favor."

"Truly?" Sophia settled herself reluctantly. "He wasn't taking advantage of you?"

Abby shook her head. "I like your brother -- genuinely, truly like him. But it's just that. I'm sixteen years old, I'm not looking for a life partner, and I don't have any illusions about how Lyceus feels about me."

Sophia took a deep breath, then said: "I'm probably going to regret this, but... how do you think he feels about you?"

Abby hesitated, casting around for the right word, and finally settled on, "Solicitous. Your brother's a decent guy. I asked him to be my first time, and he did his best to make it good for me. He also made it clear that this couldn't be an ongoing thing, and shouldn't be more than a one-time thing. And he was right about that, I think. It's compelling, and it's easy to mistake that for real connection." She paused to draw a breath, then added, "...And when I felt him cast the spell, he immediately broke off to make a note to put me in touch with you."

"Damn it," muttered Sophia. "You're right, I'm going to have to let him live." 

"What about me?" Abby asked, before the opportunity slipped away. "Will you teach me?"

"I kind of think I have to," Sophia said. "You're so sensitive that you might start finding things on your own, now that you know what to sense for. The gods know what you might stumble into without proper training."

Abby sighed. "Thank you."

StV: Metamorphoses and Magic, part one

"Sophia?"

Abigail Johnson took some comfort in the fact that the sorceress was the same age as her, since she was on Team Dragon and Abby wasn't on any of the teams at all. The extent of their social interactions so far had been one awkward lunch and a double-date, which Sophia had attended with her teammate Wrecker and Abby had attended with Sophia's brother Lyceus. 

Wrecker -- Cedric Johnson, though as far as Abby could see no relation of hers -- was sitting beside Sophia. The rest of Team Dragon was elsewhere, or else Abby wouldn't have approached them. She didn't want to interrupt the team, she just wanted...

"Oh, hi!" Sophia -- Charm, if she was using her codename -- looked genuinely glad to see her. "Sit down, please." 

Abby circled the table, put her lunch tray down, and say. 

"How are things going with Lyceus?" asked Cedric, before she could get a word out. He didn't make it sound like a challenge or an accusation, though; if anything, he sounded... worried. 

How much does he know? She wondered, and then concluded: Not much. "You know we're not really an item, right?" she asked. 

Cedric blinked. "Oh," he said. "Okay."

She glanced at Sophia. "I'm not saying I don't like him, and I enjoyed the hell out of watching Casablanca with you all, but I don't think the two of us are really going anywhere, if that makes sense."

Sophia nodded, eyebrows slightly lowered and lips slightly pursed in a way that could be curious or worried or thoughtful or all three. It wasn't quite a frown, though.  "That's quite a movie choice for people who aren't romantically interested, though."

Abby made her shrug look casual. "I can enjoy the feeling of romance without automatically transferring it to the person I'm watching it with," she said, though honestly she did see some similarities between Rick from the movie and Lyceus here in reality.

"Oh," said Cedric. "Good." 

"Okay, but look," Abby said, trying to get back to the reason she'd sat down with them. "After the movie, Cedric did something. Something I could feel... and something that apparently most people can't." She focused on Sophia. "He said I should talk to you about it."

"Did he?" asked Sophia absently, and then her expression hardened for a bare moment before she smoothed it over. "He thinks you're sensitive to sorcery?"

Abby nodded. "It felt like a wind moving through the world around me, if that makes any sense."

Sophia hesitated for a long moment. Then she said, "It does." She glanced at Cedric. "I'm going to need you to sit this one out, big guy." He nodded happily. To Abby she said, "Let's get together  after classes tomorrow and take a walk up towards the gates."

"I'll be on the front porch," said Abby.

Dauntless: A Silent Return

It was almost exactly halfway between midnight and dawn when Whisper of Evening Wind slipped over the railing of the ship and dropped into its shadow. She studied the automaton on the poopdeck for a brief moment, but it was turned away from her. Three quick, silent strides and she dropped down into the upper hold, about half of which had been converted to rooms for crew and passengers. She paused a moment to listen, let her whiskers wait for movements in the air, and sensed nothing; what light there was spilled from beneath the cloth covering one of the glow-rods. 

She ghosted her way around the edges of the hold, checking doorways and glancing down halls. The Aarakocra barbarian was either still and silent in his bed, or -- more likely gone. She remembered the sound of his snoring. Kara was asleep in her room, and from the smaller, piping breath behind that door it seemed the Galbra might be as well. The other girls had decided to stick it out, it seemed. That might help. 

The other Aarakocra, the nimble one, was also asleep;  that was good. She meant to keep it that way. Likewise for the charming halfling; awake, she would be a danger. Better that she remained asleep. Whisper hadn't dared to check on the Captain; that one was prone to late nights, and his automaton might have reacted badly if it saw her. 

Most interesting of all was the fact that after these several weeks, the gnome was still with them. Had something gone wrong in the Capital? Did he still have the Amulet? How much had she missed, in making her inquiries here?

She padded further down the hall, to her old room. The door was locked, but it took only a little work to change that. She slipped inside and locked the door behind her, then set her pack in the drawer beneath the bunk and latched it shut. There, now. Nothing to give herself away. 

The bed was even still made. Galbra's work, most like, and it made her smile. She settled under the covers and waited for the ship to depart.

Okay, better...

Made it through work yesterday, came home, and passed out on the couch for three hours. I'm doing better, but my guts are still a little bit shaky and I'm being very cautious about what I eat. Every hour that takes me further away from Monday is a blessed relief. 

Not much to add to that, so let's find some thematically-appropriate music. How about Richard Cheese?

Okay, WOW

So, yesterday was more or less a complete wash-out. I woke up, took my meds, showered, got ready for work, and got as far as putting things in the car when I was hit by a bout of sudden, intense nausea. Like, "thank the gods I hadn't eaten anything" nausea. So I notified work, waited until the nausea went down, and went back to bed. 

...And then promptly woke back up around noon with an extensive, extended case of diarrhea. I signed on from home for a bit and fixed a couple of things at work, then signed off again and basically just sat there playing a video game and drinking fizzy waters. I finally risked eating some macaroni and cheese a little after six -- I was starting to feel kind of shaky -- and had to cancel the evening's D&D game. Which was a pity, because I actually had some events prepared for it.

No idea what set that off. I'm on some new meds, so maybe taking them all at once caused a problem? I'm going back to my earlier 2-stage setup, where I take the really critical ones when I first get up and hope to the gods I remember to take the rest later in the day after I've eaten. Might also have been something I ate -- again, no idea what -- or just some kind of little tummy bug. 

I'm going into work this morning (unless it happens again, in which case I'm calling the damned doctor instead) but I don't know if I'll be there for the full day. Whatever that was, it really knocked me for a loop.

All of which is to say that there won't be any fiction today, and the rest of the week is on thin ice too. 

StV: Awake Again, part four

Julie tucked the phone away, and Ms. Salvatore regarded her for a long moment before asking, "Now... do you have any idea why you were being hunted by the Hounds?"

"Is that who they were?" Julie asked. "That's a government program, right? I remember hearing about it on the news. Something about using the latest technology to protect the country from people like me..." She hesitated, hating what she was about say. "...like us."

"Yes," Ms. Salvatore told her. "That's the one. How did you end up in their crosshairs?"

Julie made a show of thinking about that, then said: "Mr. Lyon. He's... he's our neighbor, and he's crazy. Keeps phoning in complaints about us to the city, calls the police if I go outside for a walk, little random acts of vandalism... He's been like that since this--" She gestured at herself. "--first happened to me a few years ago, and my parents moved me to homeschooling."

Ms. Brigham nodded. "You wouldn't be the first to be victimized that way."

"Do you think they took my parents?" asked Julie. 

Ms. Salvatore frowned. "I wouldn't think so, not unless they thought your parents were dangerous anomalies too, but if you have this neighbor... it's possible, I suppose. Are your parents anomalies?"

Julie shook her head. "No, they're..." She veered away from the word Blessed. "...Ordinary?" 

"Not likely, then," Ms. Salvatore said. "With your permission, we can do some investigating. In the meantime, we can offer you shelter here. Would you be okay with that?"

Julie looked around. "Could I... Could I talk to the girl who rescued me, first? I'd feel safer with her around."

StV: Awake Again, part three

Julie had devoured a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast, and was wondering if she should ask for another when another woman entered the otherwise-empty cafeteria. Beside her, Ms. Brigham said quietly, "This is Ms. Salvatore. She's the auxiliary headmistress here."

"Um," said Julie. "Okay. Where is here?"

"The Saint Vincent School for Exceptional Youth," said the new arrival, who was tall and slender and moved in a way that projected absolute authority. "Some of our students refer to it as Anomaly Academy, though we do not encourage such liberties." 

Uh oh, Julie thought. Ms. Salvatore reminded her strongly of old Mrs. Hathaway, who had been the strictest and most demanding of her childhood tutors -- and also the most rewarding. She swallowed. "What happened?" she asked. "I mean, I was being chased, and I saw some kids who were like me, but... Somebody shot me with a tranquilizer? Like, for a wild animal? Did I make it to their car?"

"You did not," Ms. Salvatore informed her. "The young man we call Harbinger retrieved you while his sister protected you both."

"Oh," Julie said quietly. It made sense; they thought they were protecting someone like them. Somehow she hadn't expected it, though.

"I'd like to read your mind, if I may," Ms. Salvatore continued. "It will help me better understand what happened to you."

"What? No!" Julie was suddenly panicked; if anybody read her mind, they'd know exactly who she was and why she was here. It had never even occurred to her that that might be a danger, and apparently it hadn't occurred to Mr. Maddox or His Holiness The Prophet either. 

Ms. Salvatore didn't flinch; she just nodded. "As you wish. To be clear, we do not read other people's minds without permission here."

"Uh--" Julie still hadn't recovered from the shock. "Thank you?"

Ms. Brigham glanced at Ms. Salvatore. "Before we ask you about how you wound up being hunted by the CIA's Hounds, is there anybody you'd like to get in touch with? Parents? Friends? People who would want to know you're safe?"

Oh. "Oh," Julie said. She'd prepared for this part, she'd just forgotten about it. Would they be suspicious? "Um. Yeah. Can I call my parents?"

Ms. Brigham reached into her pocket and then slid Julie's cellphone across to her. It was a fake, of course -- bought under a fake name, filled with carefully-prepared numbers that connected to members of the  Age of Rebirth who would recognize her number and knew how to respond. They'd even practiced with it enough to full up the Recent Calls. 

Her real phone was still back at the house; Julie wished she had it instead. This is what His Holiness wants from me, she reminded herself. I am Blessed now. She tapped in her code, then flipped to the phone app and punched the contact for her mother. The phone rang, and eventually went to voicemail; she cut it off without leaving a message and tried her father instead. "They're not... they aren't picking up," she said, distraught. 

They weren't supposed to, she remembered; those were prepared numbers. But right now, she wanted her parents and she couldn't contact them; the distress in her voice was genuine. She tried "Aunt Janice" next, her father's younger sister, and this time the designated Blessed picked up. 

The conversation that followed was awkward and clumsy, and Julie hoped that she came out sounding like a young woman who was genuinely worried about her parents. Her "aunt" promised to get in touch with them, and asked again if she was okay. 

Julie told her she was.

StV: Awake Again, part two

Julie drank some water after she finished crying, and then drifted back off to sleep.

She woke up hungry and still scared, but the nausea had faded and she felt strong again. That should have made the whole situation easier to take, but it didn't. Had she really agreed to come here? Even for the sake of helping the Prophet? Did she even recognize herself anymore?

A red-haired woman was scrolling through a news site on a computer screen, sitting in a comfortable-looking chair with her back to Julie. 

Julie shifted her weight, trying to get a feel for how well she could move, then drew back. Not well, she thought. However much better she felt, she was still sleep-stupid and slow. The back of her right shoulder throbbed with a dull, steady ache.

The woman heard the movements and turned around, meeting her eyes with a friendly smile. "Awake again?" she asked.

Julie hesitated, then nodded. "Who are you?" She coughed and cleared her throat, but the woman answered anyway. 

"Ms. Brigham," she said. "Glimmer stayed with you as long as she could, but we all have to sleep sometime. She said you'd be thirsty when you woke up, and you'd probably want a restroom."

"Um," said Julie. Both those things were true. "Yes, I could use..." 

The woman rose, turned, and approached, settling herself beside the bed. "Do you think you can sit up?"

"Maybe," said Julie, and the woman held out her hand. 

Julie took it and pulled herself upright. The room kind of lurched around her, but it didn't start spinning and once she was upright her head felt clearer.  

"Which first?" asked the red-haired woman. "Water, or bathroom?"

Sitting up had very definitely settled that question. "Bathroom," Julie told her.

Challenge: Characters to Avoid

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews. I kind of fell off last year, so we'll see how I do with it this year.)

Prompt: Characters I never want to meet...

I mean, let's just start with Hannibal Lecter. I don't think I'd be a likely victim of his -- don't fit the profile -- but who really wants to find that out? I like my liver right where it is. 

I'll just follow that one up with the Witch-king of Angmar. I'm both mortal and man, so I have exactly zero chance of killing him, and unless maybe we've negotiated a nice, fawning interview for Middle Earth News Network there's a pretty decent chance that he kills me very thoroughly, probably without even really noticing. 

Freddy Krueger might find me to be surprisingly difficult prey; I've always had interestingly narrative dreams, and frequently with pretty decent control over the direction of events. But, again, why would I want to risk it? Pass. 

Brooke Augustine is one of the most viciously cruel villains ever written; as a non-super-powered civilian, I wouldn't ever want to come to her attention, let alone meet her in person. Keep her and the D.U.P. far, far away from me.

StV: Awake Again, part one

Julie snapped awake again, unsure of where she was or what had just happened. This was becoming a little too much of a habit. She was... lying on a bed? Still dressed, but with her shoes off; still in the form of a deviant; more than a little nauseated. 

She rolled over on her side, and did her best to settle her breathing. She really didn't want to throw up.

"How are you feeling?" asked a gentle voice from behind her. 

"Bad," she said. 

The unseen voice chuckled. It was a woman's voice, Julie thought, soft and calming. "You got hit with a pretty big dose of tranquilizers. Whoever was after you wasn't being very careful. Do you know who they were?"

"No. No, I--" She cut off then, as fear shivered through her. Several fears, and she couldn't separate them. The people hunting her were supposed to be faking it, but her body had lost track of the distinction even before one of them shot her. Now she was presumably in a school full of the Deviant and Damned -- and since the woman hadn't commented on her appearance, she probably was -- which was terrifying in its own way. What if they realized she wasn't really one of them? What if they already knew?

"Hey. Hey, it's okay. You're safe now." The woman came around into her field of view and squatted down in front of her. Her skin and eyes alike were very dark brown, and she had a variety of colorful beads woven into the tight black braids of her hair. Slowly, carefully, the woman reached out and put a hand on Julie's shoulder. 

Julie started to sob. It would been perfect if she'd been acting -- her mother would be have been so proud -- but no, she was lying on the bed, half-sick and ugly-crying helplessly. Oh God, I'm so bad at this... 

The thought only made her cry harder.

Music: Another Level

Oh The Larceny: 

Quick reminder: don't believe anything you hear tomorrow.

StV: View from a Theater Roof

Mongrel crouched on the corner of the rooftop, watching as his hounds chased the girl across the parking lot. They were doing a good job: the girl zeroing in on the targets, the hounds very convincing in their pursuit... 

The whole situation was infuriating, but he held himself back. Command has been clear about his orders, and his orders were to have his team pursue the girl but let her escape with the other Anomalies. There were several ways that could go, but right now the girl was staying well ahead of the hounds and--

Shit. Anya had just run into something, a faintly-glowing wall that appeared in front of her, and looked to have knocked herself cold. Mongrel tensed, but made himself stay still. Of the targets, two had gone for the car and the other two were covering them; one of those two must have done something. 

"Capture them if you can," he said into his microphone. At least one of the Anomalies was competent, which meant his hounds were now in danger. They'd need to keep the targets busy, and that meant making a full effort--

One of the Anomalies was looking at him -- the boy, the primary target. "Huntsman, I've been spotted."

"Sloppy," his handler remarked. "These kids are better than they have any right to be, but still: sloppy."

Mongrel growled and stayed put. At least he didn't have his human face on; they wouldn't be able to identify him. The second Anomaly was the one who interested him, though. She hadn't noticed him, but she was the one who was shielding the girl, and likely the one who had taken down Anya as well. She'd make for an interesting hunt. 

Then her companion took a tranquilizer to the shoulder and shrugged it off, and suddenly it was hard to say which one Mongrel would have enjoyed hunting more. The second anomaly gestured, and Jerome -- who had fired the shot -- staggered back and collapsed as if somebody had hit him in the face with a baseball bat. Jesus. He considered intervening, but...

The girl stumbled and went down with a dart in her shoulder, and the primary target lunged forward, threw himself down beside her, and then scooped her up and carried her effortlessly back to the car. 

"I want them both," Mongrel growled, and Huntsman laughed. 

"You'll get them," the old huntsman told him. "But first, we're going to let them lead us to a whole lot more."

Villain: Pebbles

Name: Julia "Julie" Kensington Hendrix
Alias: Pebbles
Age: 22, but looks closer to 17
Appearance: As an Anomaly, 5'8" with a broad-shouldered, square-muscled build, pebbly gray skin, and glowing red eyes. As an Angel of the Age of Rebirth, 5'4" with sharp blue eyes. In either form her hair is a soft brown, just below shoulder length.
Job: Spy for the Age of Rebirth

"Julie Kensington" presents herself as an anomaly trying to escape from the Hounds of the CIA's DAAT program. Her pebbly gray skin provides her with a degree of armor (light when she's relaxed, heavier when she feels threatened) and she's strong enough to lift and throw a small car if she can get a decent grip on one. Her glowing red eyes allow her to pick out Anomalies and see in the dark, and if she wills it she can command others to obey her (fundamentally a psychic influence). 

She also has an alternate appearance, this one completely human, a more youthful version of her original appearance that makes her seem to still be in her teens. In this identity she is Julia (or Julie) Kensington Hendrix, daughter of Janet Hendrix, Speaker for the Rebirth. She retains much of her strength and all all of her ability to influence others, but is somewhat less well-armored and cannot spot Anomalies (which the Age of Rebirth refers to as Deviants) without having her eyes flare glowing red. 

Julie is a follower of the Age of Rebirth, a secretive cult currently focused on recruiting the wealthy and connected in exchanged for extended lifespan and renewed youth, which has recently come into conflict with the students of Saint Vincent's.

Challenge: Comfort Food

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews. I kind of fell off last year, so we'll see how I do with it this year.)

Prompt: Favorite Comfort Food and Why (+Recipes)

Oh, this'll be an interesting topic. I'm probably not the best person to ask, since one of my qualifications for a proper comfort food is that it has to be relatively easy to prepare, but I do have some answers for this prompt. So buckle in, and let's explore the wonders of...

1. Bacon. Literally just a plate of bacon. Drink a lot of water with this one, or maybe 3/4 water + 1/4 orange juice (arguably a comfort food in its own right).  I don't believe bacon requires a lot of explanation, but:

Recipe: Buy 4-8 packets of uncooked bacon. Put tinfoil over your baking trays, then lay bacon down in strips on the trays. Push the dog out from underfoot. Set the oven to 350 or 375 F. (The higher setting is a little faster, but also a little easier to burn things.) Cook until done -- usually about 20 minutes. Shove the dog out of the way again so you can open the oven. Remove trays and use tongs to move bacon to a paper plate covered with three-deep paper towels. Put a cover of two more paper towels on top, and set well back from the edge of the counters so the dog can't get at it. Reload tray with more bacon and reinsert, then nudge the dog aside and unload the next tray. Continue process until all your uncooked bacon has been converted into nicely-cooked bacon. 

Notes: Don't try to eat all the bacon at once. Have a bit and freeze the rest; you may need access to comfort food for longer than you realize. Also, you can then use it for:

2. Mac & Cheese & Bacon. So, now you've got this nice supply of frozen bacon just waiting for you to have an emotional/gastronomical breakdown. But, well, this time you need something a little different, with more carbs. Instant Mac & Cheese is here to help, but it's better with some of that bacon in it. Plus, the dog is less likely to take an ankle-adhering interest in what you're cooking.

Recipe: Find some Mac and Cheese -- I recommend one of the Cracker Barrel Instant Mac & Cheese boxes, if you can find one; it's a better flavor for this than the regular Kraft stuff, and cooks in minutes -- and cook it. Then crumble a few strips of bacon and mix it in. Stir it around, and enjoy. 

Notes: Adjust the Mac & Cheese vs. Bacon ratio as desired.

3. Instant Ramen. It's quick, it's tasty, it can be prepared as a soup or just as some noodles, and if you want to clear your sinuses you can either buy spicy or mix some hot sauce in. Plus, once again, it can be prepared with almost no time and effort. 

Recipe: Boil water, insert noodles, poke and stir until noodles soften. For soup, add the flavor packet and possibly some hot sauce directly to the water. For noodles, drain the water and then add the sauce packet, stirring until the flavor is evenly distributed. Easy Peasy.

Notes: Dog is unlikely to find this interesting at all, which can be a blessing some days. 

4. Long John Silver's. It's fast food incarnate: deep-fried and heavily battered whitefish, with french fries. Maybe some catsup and tartar sauce. There's no deep meaning here. It's hot, it's greasy, it's good. Plus, they won't let you bring the dog inside, so that's one less thing to worry about. 

Recipe: Drive to the nearest Long John Silver's and pay for somebody else to cook your meal. 

Notes: Be sure to ask for extra crumbs. You can apologize to your circulatory system later.

So there you go. What're your favorite comfort foods? (I'm looking forward to seeing what everybody else comes up with for this one.)

Music: Prisencolinensunainciusol

 Adriano Celentano:

StV: A Favor For Your Mother, part four

Julie sat in the study with Mr. Maddox, the gray-haired older man who was currently guarding her mother -- or working with her, or something. He'd been introduced to the household as one of the Prophet's Angels, so maybe her mother was working with him instead. Regardless, he had instructions for her, so she kept herself still and attentive.

"This will be your story," he said, and she nodded. "You are Emma Vilde Gundersen. Three years ago, you woke up with gray skin, and the other features appeared over the next few weeks. Your parents took you out of public school and you were homeschooled for the last three years. Then you got swept up in a raid, and taken to a processing center -- which is where you will be when you have to explain this. You will be placed with one or more young people, all captured Deviants. Your job is to act scared and make friends with them."

"Friends?" she asked, shocked and mildly disgusted. Deviants were... well, they were Damned, except that they came to it on their own instead of by rejecting the Prophet's chosen gifts. 

Mr. Maddox studied her for a moment, then clarified: "So long as they see you as a friend, all will be well. The Prophet does not ask you to become friends with them, merely to pretend to it."

Oh. Well, that was nothing new; half her social circle consisted of that sort of friends. "I..." She made her voice firm. "I can do that." 

Mr. Maddox nodded. "We anticipate that they will either escape or be rescued, and take you with them. If that does not happen, we have someone on the inside who will see you safely removed -- and then we will attempt to insert you some other way."

"I understand," she said, and then reiterated. "I am to pretend to be a prisoner, become a friend to my fellow prisoners, and escape with them so that they do not suspect me."

"Precisely," Mr. Maddox said. "Young Angel, I look forward to seeing what you bring to the new world."

StV: A Favor For Your Mother, Part Three

Julie didn't immediately know what had happened. 

She was lying on her back on the floor, with both her parents crouched over her. Had she passed out? Had she fallen?

"Move slowly," said the Prophet. "It will take some time to adjust to your new strength."

That voice brought it all rushing back: the Prophet touching fingertips to her forehead, the flood of divine power pouring over her, filling her to overflowing. The sudden flash of connection, of understanding, the silent fire of being at one with all things, lost now except for a fading memory. 

She suppressed a sob. 

Her mom looked terrified. Her dad looked over at the Prophet: "Holiness, is she...?"

"You are Blessed," said the Prophet, addressing Julie directly, "but your Blessing is unique, for you among all of us will be able to take the appearance of the Damned."

Oh, you want me to be a spy. Why didn't you just say so? Julie motioned her parents back -- she'd heard tales of accidents at this stage of the ritual -- and then climbed slowly to her feet. It was ridiculously easy, and his Holiness had been right: if she'd tried it unprepared, she would have accidentally hurled herself at the ceiling, or maybe through some of the furniture.

"I rise, ready to serve," she said, completing the ritual, and the Prophet smiled beatifically. 

"Your work will begin soon," the Prophet assured her. "For now, regard yourself in the mirror."

The chapel in their home held mirrors on the wall; she approached one of them, looked at herself, and blanched. Her skin was gray, pebbly, and her eyes were actually glowing red. Her hair, incongruously, looked the same as it always had. 

"Now," said the prophet, "remember yourself as you truly are. Find that connection. Focus on it."

Julie tried, and watched in awe as she felt her skin shiver and reform, returning to her much of her former appearance, only... younger. A little more awkward. She looked like a fucking teenager. 

"Perfect," breathed the Prophet, and she hid her shock automatically. "You will be our agent among the deviant and damned, and you will lead the way to bring them low."

Julie resisted the urge to look at either of her parents, and focused on the Prophet instead. "As you speak, I obey." 

"Now, change yourself back."

Julie looked into the mirror again, blinked, and tried to picture herself as she'd awoken: grey skin, glowing eyes... She felt the change sweep over her. What has his Holiness done to me? She pushed the thought down immediately. Maybe taking a Deviant form brought Deviant thoughts with it; she'd have to be careful about that.

"It will take a few days to fully adjust," the Prophet cautioned her. "Then, you will be ready."

Dauntless: The Goblin and the Kobold

Galbra sighed to herself as she paced the deck. A fucking Urd, here on this ship. And she's not only charmed the feathery barbarian, she survived a knife to the belly. There was only one way forward... 

...And she hated it. 

"Hey," she said, from her spot on the deck. 

"Kurtulmak!" shrieked the kobold, and threw herself into the air. 

That was satisfying, at least, Galbra thought. "So you're staying around."

"You're still here!?"

"Yeah. Thought about it, decided to hang around. If I promise not to try to stab you again, will you settle back down?"

"...Maybe? I mean, you stabbed me pretty hard."

"I promise not to try to stab you again. Not unless it's self-defense or I've warned you first."

There was a long pause. "All right. I think Archangel still wants to kill you, though."

Galbra sighed.  "Of course he does. What I want to know is, what's your angle with him?"

"Aside from his massive bird-cock and the fact that I can't possibly get pregnant?"

"Yeah. Aside from that."

"You're a clever one, aren't you? Work it out."

 As answers went, it was precisely as unsatisfying as Galbra had expected, but that didn't bother her at all. She'd been planning to do that anyway, and at least now they were talking.

Writing Busy

So... I lost track of the previous dark fantasy project, as you might have guessed from the world-building stuff I've been posting here. Current project is Horny Superteens, and I'm... seven chapters in? Yeah. It's not smut, exactly, but it could be if I wanted to fill in the more explicit bits. So far I've been fading to black instead.

And yeah, some of that is probably because if I'm writing Horny Superteens I'm not reading the news and getting depressed about the fall of America and the fact that we're not going to have Social Security by the time I can truly retire. The chance to imagine myself as a horny teenage superhero just starting to decide how to build his powers is, well, a wonderful escape from all that. 

The new job remains a profound relief -- the extent to which this is just a much better environment to be working in is hard to overstate, even if yesterday's meeting drained most of my brain of anything resembling thought. But, I mean, that was the new CFO and the Director of Finance wanting to learn more about how our financial workflows were set up, and look at some possibilities for making them more efficient. At Old Job? Gods, I'd never have been allowed anywhere near a meeting like that, and the IT folks who were allowed to talk would have spent the whole time giving them incorrect information. 

I wish I was mistaken, or even bitterly exaggerating, about that. 

I'm not. 

This is SO MUCH BETTER. 

Meanwhile, in my copious spare time, I'm plotting out a possible future book where a necromancer and a mad scientist find themselves in competition over the fresh graves at the local cemetery. So hey, I have a likely future project. 

Secondborn has been doing better at school; I've also bought him some axes, and he's been taking apart some excessively large stumps that we'd brought over to our back yard. I figure, it gets him outside, in the sunlight, and exercising, and even given the cost of a good axe these days it's still cheaper than therapy. I had given him one of my old knives to work out his angst with, but, well...

 

Yeah. He has a lot of angst to work out.

Music: Wake The Dead

Chuck Prophet: 

StV: A Favor For Your Mother, part two

Her mom looked more like a slightly-older sister, just as her dad looked like potential boyfriend material to her friends -- and for the same reason: the Holiest, the Prophet and his blessings. And now it was her turn, and she found herself unaccountably worried. Just how young would she look? Would people still take her seriously? And more importantly, what the hell was going on here? Julie supported her parents and the Age of Rebirth, but the last time they'd discussed her potential induction, both her parents had insisted that she should be at least thirty, with an established career and her own fortune and influence.

Which meant they wanted something. Or the Prophet did. 

Her dad led her over to where the Prophet was standing next to her mother. He was tall and strong, larger than either of her parents, with eyes like stormclouds and a face like an Old Testament judgement. If anybody was going to lead world back to making sense, she thought yet again, it was going to be him.

"Ah," he said, as she approached. "Julie. A pleasure. I realize this comes unexpectedly, but the Age of Rebirth is facing a challenge, and your mother has need of your assistance."

"I suspected so, Holiness," she said, setting aside her misgivings and miming a curtsy. "I stand ready to serve."

"Your faith will be rewarded," he said, "and your rebirth will be a benefit to all of us."

"Would it be a failure of faith to ask what blessings you intend, and what you want me to do with them? I will do your will regardless."

Her father frowned and shook his head sharply, but the Prophet smiled, unperturbed. "Your curiosity is natural, and not to be criticized when you come willingly. I will make you persuasive, like your mother, but also strong and fast like my angels. There is a young man who has caused us some considerable trouble; your task will be to trap him."

Julie considered that, but only for a moment. "As you say it, Holiness, so shall it be done."

She knelt, trying not to think of anything as he approached. 

StV: A Favor For Your Mother, part one

"Julie, honey?"

Julia Kensington Hendrix looked up from the video she'd been watching.  Her father was standing in the doorway, looking young and trim. Her friends giggled over him -- Imagine having a dad that hot! -- and it made Julia a little crazy, though she was careful not to show it. 'Dad?"

"Your mother needs a favor," he said. 

"Um," she told him. At twenty years old, she was already suspicious; when her mother asked for a favor, it was generally something that she thought would benefit her career and increase their fortune. "Sure, but... why isn't she asking?"

"She's lost her voice," Dad said. 

"Oh," said Julia. "Like, Laryngitis?"

"Something like that," Dad told her. "Anyway,  your mother needs you to come and speak to the Prophet."

"Wait-- what--? Me?"

"Yes, you. It's a little sooner than we'd intended, but it's time for you to receive your blessings."

"I... Okay. Of course. Just let me..." She stood up, looked around, and then realized that she didn't really need anything for this. Blessings were blessings, after all. And to be blessed by the Prophet directly... that was a great honor. "Should I dress for...?"

"No need," her dad told her. "Just come."

StV: A Rooftop Parting

"There." Bloodrose spoke with faint disdain. "A clean escape, as agreed."

Janet Hendrix tried to speak, failed yet again, and tapped her throat in frustration. The younger woman just watched, scowling behind her face paint, the spikes on her leather jacket gleaming in the fading light of the setting sun. Janet pulled out her phone, opened a note, and started typing again. 

Can you get the other two? She turned the phone so Bloodrose could see the screen.

Bloodrose glanced at the note and shook her head. "The bargain was that I'd keep you safe and help you try to kill Groot, or whatever the plant-guy's name is, and you'd pay my standard rate." Her scowl deepened. "Even if they'd been part of the bargain, though, I don't think I could pull them out now. Whoever you're up against, they took out my demons almost immediately and I don't think your buddies fared any better."

Janet glared, but the deviant girl -- damn her anyway -- was probably right. She went back to typing. You did the work. You'll get you pay. I may even have another job for you before long. She turned the screen again. 

"All right," said Bloodrose, "but it's going to cost extra if you want me to take those people on directly."

Janet shrugged. They could work that out when they made the next bargain; hopefully by then she'd be able to talk again. If they met in person to work it out, Janet could practically set her own terms. With her voice gone, though... This better not be permanent. I will kill that little brat.

Maybe I could set Bloodrose just to kill him? No, there were simpler and less expensive ways to get that done. Whole government programs devoted to dealing with the threat of Anomalies, in fact. She just needed to report him to the proper authorities. And it was increasingly obvious that the order needed to take down that whole school, and salt the earth where it had once been. They couldn't keep this quiet anymore; they needed to move, and move fast. 

Team Kraken: One Final Question

"Okay," said Maria. "So I do have one more question: why are we called Team Kraken?"

Kim sighed and Gaunt looked away.  

"Seriously," Maria said, leaning forward. "I'm the only one with water-based powers, and I just got here. And thankfully there doesn't seem to be any kind of tentacle theme to our abilities, either."

"No, you're right," said Cat, and chuckled. "It was the best we could come up with."

"...Seriously?" asked Maria. 

"We were looking for something that sounded powerful," Kim said, reluctantly. "I mean, we're following Team Dragon and Team Phoenix. Where do you go from there?"

"Team Vampire sounds like exactly the kind of Anomaly that terrifies the normies," Gaunt said quietly. "Team Unicorn sounds like a bunch of schoolchildren who want to feel special; nobody would take that seriously."

Maria shook her head. "So Kraken was... what? A compromise?"

Kim nodded. "Because nobody wanted us to just be Team Three."

"...All right," Maria conceded. "I should probably just be glad that we don't get sponsorships. I'm really not prepared to be part of Team Coca-Cola."

Kim responded with a theatrical shudder. "Perish the thought. We almost went with Team Colossus, but since there's an Anomaly who's already using that name, well, we thought he might take it the wrong way."

"Or we might get sued," Cat said quietly. 

"Yeah. Or that."

Villain: Mongrel

Name: Winston "Win" Davin Johnston
Alias: Mongrel
Age: 36
Appearance: 6'4", broad-shouldered, athletic, right-curled black hair, dark brown eyes, dark skin; usually barefoot, favoring loose sweatpants and a long coat.
Job: Anomaly-hunter for the CIA's DAAT program

At thirty-six years old, Winston Johnson is the oldest alpha hound in the DAAT program, and one of the chief reasons why its hunters are referred to as "hounds". CIA researcher and DAAT program chief Alexandra "Alex" Johnston was simultaneously appalled to discover that her son was a monster and impressed with the physical potential conferred by his abilities. She sought and received a special dispensation to study him, and when he proved able to reliably differentiate between regular humans and his fellow Anomalies she received a black-money grant to seek out others who could the same. That grant eventually became the foundation of the DAAT program as its increasing popularity and public concerns about Anomalies moved it into grey ops and then political popularity. 

Win thinks of himself as a monster who exists to hunt other monsters, channeling his monstrous abilities against his fellow Anomalies for the greater good. He channels his natural bloodlust into destroying the worst of his kind, and finds his redemption in recruiting those willing to join the cause. He is grim and intense in person, ill-suited to missions requiring any sort of social camouflage, and always on edge. So far, his abilities have proven sufficient to keep him alive despite his occasional disregard for his own welfare. 

Mongrel is a semi-canine shifter, capable of turning into a dog-like creature with armor plates like an armadillo and roughly the size of a horse. He has an intermediate form, bipedal but also clawed and armored, and is gifted with tremendous strength and stamina, enhanced senses, regeneration, and strong natural armor. 

His handler is a grizzled forty-year-old man who uses the callsign Huntsman and specializes in close- and mid-range combat, generally relying on firearms. Mongrel regards him as a second father, and takes any criticisms from him very much to heart.

Music: Paranoimia

A Max Headroom classic (also, well actually mostly, the Art of Noise):

Music: Hotel California

Cover by Violet Orlandi:

Music: As Above, So Below

Essenger and Cryoshell:

Eshdan'danvallor: Memories of The Fall

Dandan woke suddenly, shivering in his bed and drenched in sweat. It was the same old dream: he'd been flying towards the Heart of Knowledge, wings strong as rode the winds... and then his wings were gone, and he tumbled and fell, the air tearing at him as he plummeted towards the distant earth. Mountains like spears below him, the sky on fire above, his magics expended and his protections broken. 

He shivered again as he forced his breathing back under his control. An Elf of his venerable years should have no need of sleep, but even after all these centuries there were too many nights when he couldn't summon the calm necessary for the restoring trance. 

His blade still hung on the wall above his bed. Perhaps it was an ill reminder, but he still felt safer having it nearby -- and their link remained unbroken after all this time. "Have I been neglecting you?" he asked, and lifted the weapon down. 

It shivered in his hand, having shared his nightmare; the sword remembered just as he did. He kept his hand on its hilt, and finally felt it settle. "I'm sorry, old friend, I hear I've been neglecting you."

The sword quivered, but the sense he got from it was warm, forgiving. Still... yes, it would not hurt to practice again. It never paid to let the reflexes grow slack, though it had been a century and a half since anything truly threatened him. Still, word was everywhere of the Viscount's sudden return, of horrors encountered in the mines, and the desperate need for assistance from the Temple of Obdyros. He could hear the words yet unspoken, trace the shape of the coming winds.  

Yes, he would spend the morning at blade-practice. And if the newly-arrived heroes didn't come to him, he would seek them out himself. Perhaps it was word of the arrival of their airship that had triggered his nightmare, or perhaps they were the answer to it. Impossible to tell as yet; the future was endlessly predictable and endlessly malleable, and for all his skill he was no diviner. 

"Come, my friend," he said, and belted his blade on over his robe. "Let me find some breakfast, and then we can renew our strength."

Music: Vatican Rag

A bit from Tom Lehrer that's been lurking in my head for a couple of days now: 

StV: Precognition In Action

"This is the proposal," Dianna Salvatore said, gesturing to the screen. "Saint-Vincent and I can't bankroll the whole thing, not without returning to some activities that we both find distasteful. But you're still in the game. You have capital and to spare."

Bernie nodded slowly. "An automated factory. Producing what, exactly?"

"Mobility aids, for the moment. Powered braces like the pair that Saint-Vincent uses to walk."

"They look a bit clumsy," said Bernie, automatically pitching his tone to sound dubious.

Dianna caught his eye, and a slight grin quirked her lips. "Too late, old friend. I know you were impressed."

Bernie chuckled. "Caught me," he said, pausing to study the light green skin of his fingers before touching the screen to enlarge the blueprint in front of him. "And you say one of your students came up with this?"

Dianna nodded. "Armor. She's... this is her particular Anomaly." 

"Impressive," Bernie admitted. "So you basically have the sole source on this, and you can patent and produce it -- or license it out."

"Exactly," Dianna told him. "You'd get a cut of the profits, but we'd basically feed the rest back into getting Armor set up with the materials and infrastructure she needs for her inventions. Well, that and the school -- we've picked up a few more students who can't afford tuition than is really good for our finances."

Bernie chuckled. "Including, I'd guess, some of the ones who came to my rescue." 

"Yes, they--" Dianna trailed off, straightening. Her expression went blank as she stared into the distance. "Shit. You're in danger. They'll be waiting at your apartment when you get back. You don't die, because I send one of the teams back with you, but you're hurt."

Bernie frowned. "Age of Rebirth?"

Dianna nodded. "Yeah. And while I didn't actually see it, I'd bet good money that if they take you out, they'll come after my students next."

Bernie sighed. "I did warn them, but I guess they chose violence instead."

Dianna leaned down and pulled up the school's chat program. Bernie didn't recognize it; it was something proprietary, and probably highly secured. A window popped up, and Dianna said, "Larry? Can you get Team Phoenix together and have them meet us in front of the Office? And see if the new uniforms are ready."

StV: The Prophet and the Acolyte, Part Two

"I hear," intoned the Prophet. 

"I pray," Janet responded. "There has been progress since my last report. I located three of the other Deviants. They are students together at a particular school just outside of Eugene, Oregon. Likely their other friends are there as well. And Bernard Creswell has been in touch; he called me directly."

"I see," said the Prophet. "And have they been silenced?"

"You left it to me to choose the best method for that," Janet reminded him. "Creswell assures me that he will remain silent, and see that the students do as well. In return, he demands that we return his money, leave the students alone, and cease eliminating the Damned when they show their Deviant natures. He suggests that we refer them to him instead, and that we warn prospective members in advance that the unworthy will be Damned instead of Blessed."

"Does he?" The Prophet blinked. 

"Your Holiness, this could affect the success of the New World," Janet said carefully. "I know how I would judge, but I did not wish to proceed without your approval."

"Your wisdom does you credit," answered the Prophet. "How would you judge?"

"Destroy him immediately," she said, "before he can make arrangements to take this to the public, as he threatens. Then remove the students with some plausible accident. Finally, add further security to the Purifyings, to ensure that nothing like this happens again."

"Yes," said the Prophet. "I entrust this to your care. I will inform Gabriel that he is to follow your commands in this, and I will provide you with an additional Angel to watch over you until the matter is resolved. Use them wisely."

"Until the New World," Janet said, and released a breath as the Prophet cut the connection.

Challenge: Favorite Hobby

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews. I kind of fell off last year, so we'll see how I do with it this year.)

Prompt: Your Favorite Hobby And Why

It's writing. You knew it was going to be writing. Of course it's writing. 

I do it constantly. I do it to entertain myself, I do it entertain other people, I do it to explore and organize my thoughts and feelings, I do it because it's cheaper than therapy. Even when the boys were young and I could barely find two minutes to rub together for myself, I was still writing. Even when I'd given up martial arts, climbing, game nights, and everything else, I was writing. 

I do still enjoy climbing; the combination of physical effort, coordination, and just, well, being way up high really works for me. (I am, however, here to tell you that it is not as easy as it used to be!) 

I miss doing martial arts, and the various sorts of swordfighting I used to do (fencing, SCA, etc.) I may even get back to them at some point; we'll have to see.

But writing? Writing has been part of my life since I was about twelve, and I don't see it going away.

 

StV: The Limits of Power

"Holy shit, Ben," Maria said, plopping down on the bench beside him. "I had no idea you could do that."

"Oh hey Maria," he said, looking up from his phone. "Yeah, I don't talk about it much."

Ben was lean and medium-tall, with black hair and golden-brown skin. His smile showed a double row of even white teeth, and he was grinning broadly now at her surprise. 

"Why not?" she asked. "I mean, with an ability like that you could easily be on one of the teams."

"You should know about that," he said. "But all right, I'll tell you: it's because when I do that, when I surround myself with rocks like that, it gets... sticky, you know? Like, the longer the rocks are there, the more they want to stay. And I don't want to be Rock Guy. I like sleeping in a normal bed. So I only use it for short periods. Fine for being part of your practice, but if joined a team I might have to keep it on for too long. Or I'd be turning it back off before it was safe."

"Oh," said Maria, taking a moment to digest that. "Well that makes sense."

"Yeah. They asked, but... naw. No teams for me."

"Well it was still a damned cool power," Maria told him.

"Thanks. You'll probably see it again. They like to pull me in for these."

StV: Money-Back Guarantee, part two

Bernard Creswell opened the top drawer of his desk and extracted the business card that had gotten him into all of this. He considered it for a long moment, then picked up the phone on his desk. 

"Janet Hendrix, please." He hesitated, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. "Bernard Creswell. We have business that I believe she'll want to discuss." He waited again, then added: "Have her call me at this number, then. We can have this conversation either privately or publicly, but I suspect she'd prefer to keep it private... Yes, I'll be at this number all day. Thank you."

He hung up the phone and sat down behind his desk. It took a few minutes to bring his computer to life: password, confirmation code through his cell phone,  a moment for Crista to confirm from her PC that he was, in fact, in his office. Fortunately, he'd decided to leave his cell phone at home when he learned that he wouldn't be permitted to have it during the ritual. Even more fortunately, he'd never turned on its facial recognition features. If he had, he doubted he'd be able to get into it now. 

A deep sense of unreality swept over him. This couldn't possibly be his life. He couldn't possibly have been turned into some sort of plant-person Anomaly overnight. And there was no way on Earth that he'd spent two days hiding inside various trees until a bunch of high school students came along and helped him escape. And on top of all that, there was absolutely no possible way that he was somehow back in touch with Dianna Salvatore.

His phone rang, and he picked it up. "Bernard Creswell."

"Mr. Creswell," said Janet Hendrix, her voice venomous. "What is it you want from me?"

"Three things," he said, and then waited. It was, he'd found, a very effective tactic under the right circumstances.

"What three things?" she asked finally. 

"One: a full refund. I found your service unsatisfactory, and I would like my money back. Two: you will leave the kids alone. I don't care how badly they embarrassed you, you will walk away and pretend you never met them. Three: no more trying to make your Damned disappear. Give them my number and send them home, but no more hunting them. And for fuck's sake, warn people in advance that this might happen to them."

There was a very long pause. "That is unacceptable, Mr. Creswell," Janet said sharply. "You want your money back? Fine. We don't want it. But you and those kids are a danger to the Order and a blight on the new humanity."

"Ms. Hendrix," Bernard replied, "I want you to consider very carefully just how far you wish to take this. If you will do these three things, I will remain silent and see to it that the kids do as well. If you will not, I will arrange some very public interviews about my experiences with the Age of Rebirth. You will, of course, attempt to sue me for violating the terms of our NDA, and I will ensure that such legal action draws even more attention to the activities of your group. You may, of course, threaten violence -- or even attempt it -- but once this begins that too is likely to attract the sort of attention that you don't want."

There was a long, stubborn silence. 

Bernie waited. He could be stubborn too, but in this case he didn't really think it was required. It wasn't hard to wait when he'd already thought through the likely outcomes. 

"I still can't agree to that," Janet Hendrix said finally. "I'll have to consult with... I'll call you back when I have an answer."

"I'll be waiting."

Music: Bohemian Catsody

 Music by Shirley Serban: 

StV: Money-Back Guarantee, part one

Bernard Cresswell parked his car in the private lot beneath the building and took the elevator up to his office. The doors opened twice on the way up, but nobody stepped inside. He did his best to smile pleasantly and nod politely each time, but he was surprised to discover just how much it hurt when the people outside the elevator doors gaped or froze or flinched back. He'd known it could happen, that it would happen, but knowing it and experiencing it were two different things. 

He stepped out of the elevator alone, and crossed to the ornately etched glass doors of his office. Crista -- dark-haired, aerobics-and-yoga slim, professionally dressed in a blouse, skirt, and matching jacket -- glanced at him and smiled, then did a double-take. "Mr. Creswell?"

"It's still me, Crista," he said, nodding drily.

She shook off her reaction with a sudden movement of her head, almost like a dog shaking off water. "Sorry, sir," she said, and reached for the door. "After you."

"Thank you," he said, unexpectedly touched by her reaction. "I know this must be a shock." 

She shook her head in denial, then turned to look him over. He knew what she was seeing: the pale green skin, the vine-like tracery atop his skin, the leafy hair. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and finally said, "I had a cousin, Mr. Creswell."

"Did you?" he asked, and she motioned him through the door.

"Anton," she said softly as he passed. "Woke up three weeks before his thirteenth birthday without a bit of hair left on his body, and every piece of furniture in his room floating three feet in the air.  His parents thought he'd shaved his head and broken everything in some sort of tantrum."

"But he hadn't, of course," Bernie filled in. "I doubt he was any less surprised than I was."

Crista hesitated, visibly weighing her words. "You're older, Sir. I'll bet it was even more of a surprise for you." 

Bernie chuckled. "That may be. Still... have I ever asked you to call me 'Sir', Crista?"

She grimaced. "No, Mr. Creswell."

"Then let's not start now. You're a valued -- and valuable -- member of the team here. I won't try to sell you on the usual 'we're a family here' bullshit, but...  if your cousin's still around and looking for work, we may be hiring soon."

"Sir? I mean... Mr. Creswell?"

"Depending on how the next few weeks go, we may have some openings soon, and there are going to be some very definite changes in our hiring policy."

Crista swallowed. "I see, S-- Mr. Creswell. I'll see if I can get in touch with him."

"It won't be preferential," Bernie said. "If he gets hired, he'll have to do the work. But if we have an opening and he can do the work, we won't turn him away."

Crista smiled. "You're planning to announce the New You, then?"

Bernie smiled back. "Absolutely. It's time to find out who our friends really are."

Challenge: Fictional Worlds

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews. I kind of fell off last year, so we'll see how I do with it this year.)

Prompt: Fictional Worlds I'd Rather Not Visit

I mean, that's a lot of them. Most of Stephen King's oeuvre, for example. A pretty fair chunk of Clive Barker, too. But if I had to pick one in particular, I'd have to go with Athas.

Athas is the homeworld for the Dungeons and Dragons Dark Sun campaign setting. It's a post-apocalyptic desert world -- sort of like Mad Max, but without the car chases and gun fights, and with elves and dragon-folk and insect people instead. Resources -- notably water and metal of any sort -- are scarce. Unlike most D&D settings, Athas is closed off from other planes of existence, so if I somehow wound up there, there would be no going back. 

And unless I was extremely fortunate, I'd last maybe a day or two before being robbed, sold into slavery, or murdered. If I was unlucky, well... it take a bit of time to die of dehydration, heatstroke, and hypothermia in the desert. 

So yeah, I would very prefer not to be isekai'ed to Athas.

StV: Opportunities

Cat didn't know the girl who sat down across from her. Her face was familiar, of course; Saint Vincent's was a small school, and everybody knew everybody, within limits. One of the white girls, though not so pale as some, with nut-brown hair and eyes. Amy? Something like that. The girl had one hand on the table and was absently tapping out a nervous rhythm with her fingers.

"Stop that," Cat said reflexively, and the errant hand went still. 

So did the other girl's face. "Sorry. Um. I don't mean to bother you, but..." 

So don't, Cat thought, but she managed to keep the thought to herself. "I don't..." She wondered if she sounded as awkward as she felt. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."

"Abby," the girl supplied immediately. "And, um, there's no reason you should. I mean, I'm a Second Year, we don't have any classes together, and I wouldn't know your name either if you weren't..."

"On Team Kraken?" Cat supplied. 

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm... I'm not sure how to ask this, but..." 

Cat braced herself. Shit like this was why she hated talked to people. The girl would ask to join the team, or for Cat to put in a good word with Tempest, or maybe just if they could hang out or help her develop her powers. If she was lucky, she could refer the girl to Tempest or even to Ms. Salvatore. More likely, she'd have to figure out how to let her down gently, which was exactly the sort of delicate social interaction that she hated, mainly because it stressed her right the fuck out. 

The girl glanced around to make sure that there was nobody near the table Cat had picked out on the back porch, then asked: "Did I see the new boy come out of your room the other morning?" 

No, absolutely not, why would you even think that? Cat's brain was shaping the words, but her traitor mouth was already replying: "Yes, but if you tell anybody else I'll deny it."

"Um." The girl swallowed. "So are you two, like, together?" She flushed, then added hurriedly: "I'm not asking for gossip. I have a reason, really."

Do I really want to know? Cat wasn't at all sure that she did. "Okay," she said finally. "How is this any of your business?"

"I mean, it's not. It's just that... if I were to... proposition him -- hypothetically -- I'd want to make sure that I wasn't cutting in on somebody else's relationship."

Cat hesitated. "All right. If I had slept with him -- hypothetically -- I'd reassure you that it was just a temporary thing, and you wouldn't be cutting in."

The girl paused, and for a couple of heartbeats  Cat thought the conversation was over. Then Abby asked, "Was it good? I don't want my first time to be a disaster."

"Yes," said Cat, "Yeah, it was good. But... look, you're a Second Year. You're young. I mean, I'm young too--" Oh, God, she was getting this all knotted up. "--but..." She stopped, shook her head, drew a breath, and then asked: "Why him? Why now? It's not a race, you know?"

Abby folded her hands together, then put them in her lap. She remained silent for the better part of a minute. Then she said, "Because I'd like to see what it's like while I'm still... me. And you know how it is -- a lot of people talk, but I never know if they're actually doing anything or if it's just talk. So when I saw him coming out of your room, well... I thought, Here's someone who's actually having sex, and it seemed like maybe this was my opportunity."

Cat absolutely did not know how it is. She avoided that kind of talk; she avoided a lot of different kinds of talk. She'd made her own private decisions, and it had never even occurred to her to consult anybody else about them. Still... "Okay, but... what do you mean, 'while I'm still me'?"

Abby looked at her for a moment, then unbuttoned the right sleeve of her uniform shirt and shoved it up past her elbow. She extended her arm, showing off the mass of pale, milky-- 

That wasn't scar tissue. That was armor. There were spikes, small but distinct, growing out of it. "What...?" Has Tempest seen this? Gods, she would love to examine this. The thought was out of place here, so she pushed it away.

 "I'm changing," Abby told her. "That's where I fell off my bike and scraped my arm, so you can see it there. It healed different. But it isn't just when I'm injured. My whole body's doing this, just... more slowly. Probably since I was twelve or thirteen." She pushed her sleeve back down. "And even that isn't done," she continued. "Those little spikes? They weren't there a month ago. I noticed them when I tore the shit out of my pillow one night."

"Hostia puta." Cat swallowed, trying to imagine. "That... that must be terrifying."

Abby looked like she was about to burst into tears. "You... you really have no idea."

"No chingues." The situation had, it seemed, finally gotten so uncomfortable that Cat had relaxed into it. She stood up, came around the table, and squatted down beside Abby so she could put an arm across the younger girl's shoulders. "Do you have any idea where it's heading?"

Abby shook her head. "No. The doctors didn't know. The faculty don't know. I don' t know. I have monthly checkups with Ms. Campbell, but I can't really talk to her about what it's like."

"All right," she said. "Yeah. That's pretty fucked, but I can see where you're coming from on this. So... yeah, Lyceus and I were just a fling. You wouldn't be cutting in." She hesitated. "And if you need somebody to talk to, well... I'm kind of shit at that, actually. But... I can try."

"Oh my God, please?" said the younger girl, and Cat nodded.

Music: Seven Year Ache

Roseanne Cash:

Music: End of the Road

Noga Erez:

StV: The Prophet and the Acolyte

"Escaped, you say?" The Prophet's voice was mild, but then the Prophet's voice was always mild. The cares of this world did not touch him, and his divinity had placed him beyond all human pettiness and spite.

"I believe so, Holiest." Janet Hendrix kept her voice even, because none of that meant that she was not in danger. The Prophet cared about the Work, and attempting to transfigure a Deviant interfered with the Work. Having a deviant then escape...? That could be a disaster. "He was helped by other Deviants."

She didn't know that that was true, but she was not about to explain to The Prophet that she and Jefferson and Michael had gotten their assess handed to them by a bunch of teenagers. And since both Creswell and the teenagers had vanished into thin air, it seemed very likely that they'd done it together. 

 "That is troubling," The Prophet observed. "I had hoped you could handle this alone, but even I had not expected outside interference. Are they known to you, these Deviants?"

"No, I'd never seen them before." Janet swallowed. "I have one of their names: Emily Hubbard. Emil is running a search already. And Bernard Creswell is likely to cause chatter if he reappears."

"Very well." The Prophet nodded thoughtfully, then looked towards the heavens. "Find them -- all of them -- and see that they do not interfere further. Protect our reputation through whatever means you deem effective. I trust to your discretion in this. Should you need additional resources or assistance, pray to me and I will provide."

"Yes, your Holiness." Janet bowed her head. "It will be as you say."

"In all things," The Prophet agreed, and left the call.

Janet heaved a sigh of relief. She wasn't honestly sure whether or not the Holiest could strike her down over a video call, but one way or another she would be removed if she threatened the Work. They were remaking the world, after all; remaking humanity. Mistakes could not be tolerated. 

As for Mr. Creswell and those damnable teenage Deviants, well... perhaps they would see reason. Or perhaps they could be influenced. Or, if all else failed, they could always be removed the hard way. Blessed Savior, she hoped they could be removed the hard way.

All she had to do was find them.

Oh no!

The Decemberists: 

Team Kraken: Debriefing, Part One

"So," asked Mr. Saint-Vincent, "How did it go?"

Kimberly Lynn Evely looked from him to Ms. Salvatore, then glanced at the students seated behind her. "I'd like my team to offer their impressions first, if you don't mind." 

"Very well," said Saint-Vincent. "Armor?"

Ally Colvin looked up from her design pad. "Yes?"

"Your impressions of your new teammate please, Armor." Saint-Vincent sounded dryly amused. 

"Oh. Um. I like her."

Saint-Vincent waited, but Ally just looked curiously at him. "Very well. Nightfall?"

Cat Montoya tilted her head slightly, studying the headmaster as he studied her. "Maria's solid," she said. "She kept up, she helped out, she worked with us."

The headmaster smiled slightly at that, then turned to Gaunt. 

"Nightfall's right," he said immediately. "We haven't seen her powers in action yet, but she worked well with us -- and on the first time out, at that."

Saint-Vincent turned back to Kim. "You have a different opinion?"

Kim hesitated. "Not exactly. Maria should definitely be part of Team Kraken. That said... I'd like you to pay attention over the next several practices, and consider the possibility that she should be team leader instead of me."

"Kim," said Gaunt, but she shook her head. 

"I'm doing my best, and I appreciate that you all support me in that. But--" She looked at Ms. Salvatore. "--and correct me if I'm wrong -- I think I only really have the position because I've studied Anomalous powers, and nobody else wanted it."

Ms. Salvatore frowned, slightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Miss Evely."

Kim shook her head. "I'm not. I think I'm doing a decent job. But Maria suggested today's strategy, and it got us through successfully. I might have come up with the same approach, but she saw it while I was still trying to think about what would work best. That's why I'd like you to monitor the next few practices: so you can see if that's a pattern. If it is, I'm perfectly fine with turning the team over to her and staying on as a blaster and a subject-matter expert." She glanced back at the others. "And I'd like the rest of you to be thinking about it, too. If you'd rather have me, okay. But I promise you I am not going to be hurt if it turns out that Cloudburst can do a better job."

Team Kraken: Introductions, Part Five

Maria -- Cloudburst -- gasped, "Ben?"

He smiled at her as he strode forward. "You could just do this the easy way and hand it over," he said. 

Armor lifted an arm, but Ben swelled up as a layer of shifting stones surrounded his body and the twin needles from Armor's wrist-gun glanced off them and fell to the dirt. 

Gaunt? Cloudburst asked again, hoping that he was still paying attention. 

Yes? Oh. Yeah. More are coming. 

"Come on,"  she said, and pushed Nightfall back towards Gaunt. "Let Armor and Tempest hold them off. We need to get that box to its destination." Raising her voice she added, "Knock him down and let's go!"

One of them must have done something because she felt the impact through her feet as Ben hit the ground. Then they were all running, Gaunt in the lead and Armor and Tempest slogging along at the back. 

They broke into a clearing, and there was Goblin: short, wiry, with teeth like a shark exposed in a very wide grin. It was the combination of that mouth and the notably green tinge to their skin that gave them their name; their actual name was Vic. "Here," they said. "Give me my box."

"Spread out," said Nightfall, and the world went black. 

Cloudbust had never been blind, and for a moment she was simply too disoriented to react. Then Gaunt's voice spoke into her head: It's just dark. Move slowly and spread out. Nightfall's handing the box off to Goblin. That was... okay, she'd known this could happen. But knowing it and being in the middle of it were two very different things. 

Cloudburst took one careful step, trying to move slowly and stay quiet, and then another. She wavered; she'd never realized how much she relied on visual cues to keep her balance. I'll have to work on that as well. She'd managed four full paces and stopped again before the darkness brightened and she could begin to see again. A moment later the woods were back to their usual moderate shade, and Goblin was gone. 

Mr. Craven stepped out from behind a tree. "Well done," he said.

Den of Thieves: Strategies

"I found them," Faldor said, as he came in the door.

"Hush," said his wife Eloida, though she tempered the word by turning a fond smile in his direction. "The baby's almost down." She went back to the soft stream of soothing words, and Faldor smiled, momentarily distracted by the sight of their daughter Aniora. 

She was getting too big for her basket; pretty soon they'd have to get her a real bed. There was room beside their own bed; it wouldn't be too much of a burden. And they could afford it; Talons Mirrak was still using him as a runner, and while some of his freelance jobs had dried up others seemed to come in from people who wanted to hear about what had happened to him. Cedric had even arranged for him to speak with the other, younger runners -- four different groups of them now -- to explain how it had been done and talk about what to watch for.

The Mist Eyes had stood by him, and if he could get information on this new crew to Cedric Bloodblade, he would. 

Aniora's breathing deepened and became more regular, and after a few more minutes Eloida let her singing grow softer until it finally trailed off. Then she stood, and gestured towards the door back to the main room; Faldor nodded and slipped out, quick and silent. Eloida followed, and eased the door closed behind them. 

"Now then," she said quietly. "What was that? You found them?"

"I found them."

"The ones who robbed you?"

"They were at Bilk's place, dealing with a bunch of kids. I managed to follow them, but they saw me and I had to drop back. They were on one of the main spokes, though: mid-city east. Had some of the local kids with 'em, too."

Eloida narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "You're certain?"

He nodded. "Same voices. And I'd bet money they're the same ones who knocked over the furniture crafter up in Greycloak territory, too."

"That's dangerous," Eloida said slowly. "I need you to be very, very careful. Just because they haven't killed anybody yet, doesn't mean they couldn't. And desperate people do desperate things."

"So," said Faldor, "we have to make sure they don't feel desperate until it's too late."

Challenge: Memorable Acquaintance

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews. I kind of fell off last year, so we'll see how I do with it this year.)

Prompt: A story about a memorable acquaintance

Heh. All right. 

This is back in college, when I was sharing a dorm room with a young man whom I'll refer to as J. J was a computer science major, extremely bright, and exactly my kind of odd. He loved playing with ideas, particularly about obscure esoterica: the illuminati, the idea that somewhere there was a list of all the really smart people on the planet, what if there really was a hollow earth, and like that. He didn't really believe in any of it, but the absurdity of it all appealed to him. And, of course, he was the destined savior of the human race. 

We all just pretty much took that last one in stride. He'd mention it every now and again, but it wasn't a regular topic of conversation or something he really insisted on. 

Anyway, the two of us were up very late one night, discussing the gods alone know what. Probably something vague and philosophical, possibly related to religion. I genuinely don't remember at this point. 

What I do remember is the very end of the conversation. I was already up in the top bunk, and he was sitting on the bottom bunk, and it was time to go to sleep. So he got up, crossed the room to the light switch (which was beside the door), and concluded whatever point he was making with, "After all, I'm the destined savior of the human race." He flipped the light off, then added: "Funny thing is, sometimes I actually believe that."

Then he crossed the room again (in the dark), tossed himself down onto his mattress, and missed by a good two feet, thus crashing into the floor instead. No harm done, but the timing could not have been any more perfect.

Post-Event Assessment: Rock Climbing

We took Secondborn to the rock climbing gym this weekend. He's had summer classes there before, so he was already on file and certified to use the auto-belay. Beautiful Wife and I were not, so we filled out our waivers and went over the process with the staff so we could be on record as officially certified. 

(For those who don't already know: belay is the term for the safety line that keeps a climber from falling to the ground if they lose their grip. It also allows them to be lowered back down once they reach the top of the climb. For a manual belay, the belay line basically goes up to a pulley and you have somebody on the ground to pull the rope so it stays tight as you climb, and then to feed it back out gently to lower you down. A lot of the modern climbing gyms have auto-belays as well, which are rigged to a spring-and-pulley system. On their own, they will retract all the way up to the spool, but with a person clipped to the end of the line they will keep the rope tight until you fall or let go and put your full weight on it. At that point, it feeds the line back out slowly, so you land gently on the ground.) 

Secondborn, as I said, has done this before, and recently. Beautiful Wife and I have also done this before, and not recently. So he clambers around on the bouldering areas, and scampers up the climbing walls with considerable agility, and returns to the bottom smiling. 

Me, not so much. I tried four climbs and a bit of bouldering, and I will say this in my defense: at least I can still do it. I have to take about a ten minute break between climbs, but I can do it. So my assessment looks like this: 

Good:

• Grip strength and upper body are still equal to the task.
• Agility and technique are still there; I remember how to go about it.

Bad:

• Cardio is desperately in need of more work.

So, we're going to do their one-month trial -- which looks like a pretty good deal -- and see if we can't get back in better shape while giving Secondborn a regular family outing that he loves. 

Events of note: Secondborn showed us how he can go up a section of the wall devoted to timed trials -- not anything complicated; the first two-thirds is basically a series of wooden rungs with a nice, heavy lip that's very easy to grip. Harder than it looks, though, because the rungs are about two feet apart. So, after watching this, I informed Secondborn that he was going to get to watch me beat his time.

I made it halfway up -- if we're being generous. It was probably closet to a third. I really need to lose some belly to make that work. Secondborn was, of course, suitably smug about the whole thing.