DoT: Aftermath, Part Two

"Boss!" 

 Vallista Greycloak looked up from her desk, where she was going over her father's accounts. They'd been working together for years, as he'd been grooming her to take his place; there was very little here that she wasn't already familiar with. 

She wasn't sure if that made it hurt less, or more. 

She looked coldly at the doorway, dread gathering in her chest. First that idiot furniture-carver, then a month later her father's death, and now, days after... some new disaster? She would be turning thirty-three tomorrow... if she lived that long. "What is it?" she asked, keeping her voice calm by an effort of will. 

"Beggars, boss. Mother Lardner herself, right out in the streets." The boy was human, just entering adulthood, but he wore the colors; he was a full member of the gang.

"How many?" asked Vallista, rising immediately and reaching to buckle on her swordbelt. 

"That's the thing!" The kid looked baffled. "It's just her. Derlina put the word out to hang back, let her walk, and sent me to tell you." 

Vallista narrowed her eyes, and the kid swallowed. Derlina wasn't overstepping, exactly; but she was the newest of the gang's lieutenants. On the other hand, she was solid and loyal, and if she'd been the first one present... She made the right call, Vallista decided. The more established lieutenants and their crews were going to hate that; they were all circling each other like sharks right now, angling to be the one who became her Second. Derlina wasn't nearly experienced enough to compete with them for that, but this was the kind of opportunity they'd all been looking for. 

She found her purse, tossed the messenger a Silver. "Good work," she said. "Take me there."

He nodded immediately, maybe a little too fast. "This way, boss."

"What's the word?" asked Gazin, She was one of the island's few lizard-folk, and sometimes got mistaken for a dragonborn. She had a desk with a custom-built chair in the front office, where she functioned as both secretary and bodyguard. Normally she didn't advertise her skill at combat, preferring that any unwanted visitors be surprised; but these weren't normal times. 

"Have everybody stay put," Vallista said. "Mother Lardner comes alone, I meet her alone. And Derlina already has eyes on her."

"You sure, boss?" asked Gazin. She grinned a toothy grin. "Don't want to lose my meal ticket, here."

Vallista hesitated, then nodded. "I'm sure. The beggars aren't going to hit us, and if they were they sure as the hells wouldn't hit us in broad daylight. Not unless the balance of power has changed beyond any hope of recovery." She turned back to the messenger. "Lead on, Kid."

He nodded and led her out the door.

DoT: Job's done

"Job's done, brother," said the voice, and the man who called himself Daystar straightened at his desk. "Gave your tools a bit of a shock, though."

"That's more easily done than it should be," Daystar grumbled. 

His sister shrugged. "If you want professionals, hire professionals. For amateurs, they weren't doing too badly: they spotted all three of Greycloak's guards and had the ones in the main room distracted. Hells, they might have managed to take him out if I hadn't already. But you're still covered: word will be that Greycloak was hit by a team, not a single assassin, and they took both the bags and Greycloak's sword."

"Ah, now there's a bonus," Daystar allowed himself a small smile. "They might be worth the investment after all."

"Then you'll appreciate this as well," added his sister. "They were dressed as Greycloaks and Panthers."

"Oh?' Daystar was honestly a little surprised. He'd been worried that his pawns were too obvious, not cautious enough, and he might need to sacrifice them earlier than he'd planned. If they were going to actively assist in creating the chaos he wanted, though... well, he might need to keep them on the board longer than expected.  He'd have to question Grot on their performance...

...Was he making a mistake leaving them in the half-orc's hands? No, it was better to keep them away from him, especially now that they seemed to be learning. And Grot was a good coachman and an excellent bodyguard, and best of all he had very few secrets to keep. Even if he lost his mind and told the pawns who he really worked for, they'd done too much damage to too many gangs to turn themselves over now. 

Still, it wouldn't hurt to remind Grot of that... and if they turned on the half-orc, well, that would be his signal to eliminate them.

Challenge: Needs a Sequal

Prompt: Books that need a sequel

I really had to think about this one, but I did come up with an answer.

I don't know that it needs a sequel -- it does fine as a stand-alone -- but I'd love to read a sequel, or even a follow-up Novella, to Martha Wells' fantasy book Wheel of the Infinite. The story features an older woman, the priestess Maskelle, as the protagonist, though the occasional bits from the perspective of the foreign swordsman Rian are are also delightful, and... it's not that I need continuation or closure, it's just that I'd like to revisit those characters again. 

The one that does really need a sequel, though, is Lilith Saintcrow's Coyote Run. It's pure fun: fast-paced, fascist-punching, shape-shifting action. I want more stories about punching fascists!

(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: I Want Them All, part one

"There are five of them, not four," said Huntsman over the headset. 

Mongrel grunted from where he was sitting inside the van. "So either our source lied, or someone joined them at the last minute."

"Another girl. Looks like she knows the others pretty well. Probably last minute, but be careful."

"The team's better-prepared this time," Mongrel replied. "And we're not just pretending to chase someone."

Huntsman didn't answer that. Instead he said, "It's only one of the official targets, though. And they have the informant with them."

"I don't care. I want him and the girl both -- and the informant can spot Anomalies. I want her in the program too, even if she can't pass for human."

"Orders, Mongrel."

He sighed. "Fine. We'll let 'em walk. But if we get a chance to take the girl along with the designated targets, I'm taking it."

DoT: Aftermath, part one

Vallista Greycloak sat in the upper-city shop, sipping at her tea. She had security in the area, some from the gang that was now hers and some freelancers who would be harder to recognize. She watched as Lynna Catseyes approached, two of her obvious security detail with her. One of the Tabaxi leaned and spoke to the half-elf, but she shook her head. 

The two of them peeled off and took seats at a nearby table as Lynna approached the table where Vallista sat. Vallista kept her arms on top of the table, one hand curled around her tea cup and the other palm down: this was a meeting, not a murder.

Lynna pulled back her chair, seated herself, and put her arms atop the table as well. To most appearances, she was a half-elf, but her eyes were feline: green, with vertically-slit pupils. That was what had given her her name. "Vallista," she said. 

"Lynna," Vallista acknowledged. 

"It wasn't one of mine," Catseyes said directly. "Or if it was, I will find them and hand them over to you. None of my people should ever have been involved in something like this."

Vallista waited a moment before she spoke. "I believe you," she said. "My father trusted you. And it doesn't make sense for you to move on our territory, not unless you think you can take over the whole mid-city... and even if you could, why push this way? It makes no sense."

Lynna nodded. "I'm relieved to hear that." She hesitated. "Gareth will be, too. I... I think this is more of what we've seen with the lower-city gangs. Someone is trying to set us against each other."

Vallista nodded back. "Yes. Which is why we're going to attack you."

Catseyes tilted her head. "Draw them out? Get them to show their hand?"

Vallista nodded. "A small band of disgruntled Greycloaks, with nothing more than clubs and knives, in... three days time. I can shake loose some of my troublemakers that way, and it looks like we're really at war even though that's ridiculous."

"All right," Lynna smiled. "I'm game. I'll set a small group of my own troublemakers to patrol for anyone looking to move in on our territory." She grinned. "And I'll let Gareth know, so he doesn't panic too much."

"Thank you. It's still going to create some bad blood," Vallista admitted. "I'm sorry about that."

"Oh, we'll end up being called before the Voice before this is over, but if we keep the fights small I think we can weather it." Lynna  was still smiling. "And it will buy us time to figure out what's actually going on."

"I've got somebody working on that," Vallista admitted. "I haven't heard back yet, but if this isn't all of a piece with the robbery at that furniture-carver, the rumored hit on Telk's place, and the trouble between the Redblades and the Mist Eyes, then I'm a ship's deckhand."

Lynna nodded thoughtfully. "Yes... Yes, that does seem likely. Upstairs will see it too, I bet."

Vallista hesitated, then said, "One more thing... would you be willing to surrender Gareth to the Greycloaks? Not as a prisoner. I'm thinking that when we 'reconcile' we'll need a marriage to seal the peace."

"Oh?" Lynna grinned. "Oh. Oh, that's brilliant. I'd been wondering how you two were going to manage..." She laughed, an unexpected peal of sound that perked the ears of the two Tabaxi guards. "Yes, absolutely. You have my blessing. I'll... let Gareth know as soon as it's safe for him to know."

"Thank you," said Vallista. "Deeply. Thank you."

"Your father and I spent a lot of time trying to show each other up -- from swordfights to pinching each other's noses with little crimes in each other's territories, to striving to run our gangs better than the other one could. Neither of us would ever break ranks with our gang, or even admit that we might be more than enemies and rivals. So believe me when I say I think he'd be proud of how you're handling this." She leaned in. "And when the time comes, somebody is going to burn for your father's death."

Vallista nodded. "They damned sure are."

StV: A Friendly Sparring Session, Part Four

Nightfall was utterly unfamiliar with guantlet swords, but she took to using a pair of them like a duck to water; Jade, who'd been impressed already, found herself wondering how her own team was going to keep up. That was a thought for later, though. 

The smaller girl was a gymnast, but she was also a dancer and had been studying martial arts since she'd first arrived at the school a year ago. A few basic instructions on how to make use of those blades, and she was handy enough to make Jade glad of her armor. Her balance was perfect, her stance and stepping impeccable, and she had sweep-and-stab down to an art within minutes. She still had trouble getting around Jade's shield, but the gauntlet swords covered her forearms and gave her some additional protection -- enough to block Jade's blade when it got past her own. 

Jade was still the better fighter -- more reach, more practice, and the ability to use sword and shield simultaneously -- but she could already see that she was going to have to push herself in training to keep up. She was also painfully aware that Nightfall could do things that she simply couldn't: blind her, for example. The shield wouldn't be much help if Nightfall took them fully into the dark. At that point, she'd be relying entirely on her armor. 

Nightfall caught an overhead strike between crossed blades, then stepped back. "Hold."

Jade backed off and lowered her blade. 

"Okay," said Nightfall. "My turn to try to help you. When we were trying to capture your brick, you knocked down Tempest and very nearly took her out of the fight. Can you try that again, or something like it?"

Jade frowned, but the expression was puzzled rather than irritated. "All right." She stepped back, and shook out her hands, letting sword and shield dissolve back into her. She kept her armor, though. Then she let her power spill out of her again, not unlike a gauntlet sword, but longer -- and flexible.

"Begin," called Ms. Brigham from the control room, and Jade lashed out with a long whip of green-white energy, which Nightfall brushed aside with her shadowy blades. "Yes, that!" she said, moving in as Jade retreated, lashing at her again and again as Nightfall parried and advanced. "It's good -- it's great! -- but you're using it like a tool. Grab me with it."

Jade hesitated and almost let the whip dissolve. Then she brought it around for another lash, and at the last moment pulled it short and had it reach out to wrap around Nightfall's legs.

Nightfall let her gauntlet blades evaporate as she toppled over. "There you go," she said. "Okay, now I have another question -- for me, too. Our powers are pretty similar in some ways. You can pull these shapes out of your body, right? Can you let go of them?"

"No," Jade admitted. "They're pretty well rooted in me."

Nightfall nodded. "...But they can be flexible, and you can control how they move if you think about it."

"...I guess I can," Jade admitted. This was new to her, though Lyceus had pointed it out as well. 

Nightfall grinned. "Can you make wings?"

StV: A Friendly Sparring Session, part three

Jade caught Nightfall's blade on her shield and stepped in past it, pulling her blow at the last minute. "Hold," she said, and then stepped back, thinking hard. "Can you create more than one item at a time?"

"Like a shield?" asked Nightfall. She frowned slightly, and more darkness spilled out of her, forming an oval buckler across the back of her left arm. It held for maybe two heartbeats before the sword suddenly wavered and vanished. "Maybe, with a lot more practice." 

Jade was still thinking. Are you really supposed to be coaching the competition? asked a traitorous voice in the back of her mind, but she ignored it. Same school, same team, She reminded herself. Competition was one thing, but when it really came down to it they were all on the same side. "Okay, so that blurring effect of yours really does make it hard to keep track of your movements and your exact position. Problem is, against an experienced fighter it's only so much help. The moment I make contact with your blade I have a pretty good idea of where you are."

"Oh," said Nightfall, looking momentarily frustrated. 

Jade continued: "That'll change as you get better with a blade, but right now I'd feel better if you had some defense. If you let go of the blurring, can you form a weapon and a shield?"

"Worth a try," said Nightfall, and let the blurring, smoky darkness around her fade away. She was still holding the general aura of darkness that kept the room dim so she could use these other abilities, though; Jade was thoroughly impressed. This time she manage to hold a sword and shield, each dull black, for a full three breaths before the shield shimmered and became a second sword. "Damn it," she said, looking over at Jade. "All right, a lot more practice."

Jade shook her head. "Don't sell yourself short. This is amazing growth. I had no idea you could do any of this."

"Neither did I," admitted Nightfall, then abruptly closed her mouth. 

"Okay," said Jade slowly, "so what led to the breakthrough?"

"Promise you won't be angry?"

"I can't promise that until I know what happened," Jade pointed out. "I promise I'll try to be reasonable about it, though."

"Yeah. Okay. Um... I asked Lyceus to help me. The faculty has been treating my ability like it's an area effect, so that's what I've been using it for. I told Lyceus about something I'd done with it a long time ago, and he said maybe it was more like sorcery, and had me try some things."

That son of a-- Jade sighed to herself. Lyceus hadn't been doing anything that she wasn't doing right now, and Jade had always had a low tolerance for hypocrisy, especially her own. No, she'd need to talk to Lyceus -- Harbinger -- but mostly to tell him it was all right to help out fellow students on other teams. She shook aside the momentary distraction. "Okay. For the moment, you can't hold a sword in one hand and a shield in the other." She paused, realizing that both swords were still in evidence. "...But you can apparently hold two identical swords. Huh. Okay, I'm going to share a suggestion that Mr. Hendrickson shared with me when I was still trying to figure out how best to use my power." She looked up at the control room. "Ms. Brigham? Can you pull up an image of a gauntlet sword, and project it on the wall down here?"

Villain: Evil Gecko

Name: Amara Marilyn Thompson
Alias: Evil Gecko
Age: 23
Appearance: 5'4" tall, with light brown hair and soft brown eyes, a slightly square face, and a broad-shouldered, muscular build.
Job: Thief

Amara grew up in a thoroughly middle-class family, graduated high school, went to college... and graduated into a recession. With no jobs and no prospects, she turned her powers -- strength, durability, quick-healing, extraordinary dexterity, and the ability to cling to any solid surface -- to robbing the bankers and insurance executives and other CEOs who (she felt) had collapsed they system for their own profits. She has a particular hatred for venture capitalists, and will cheerfully attempt to rob them of anything they might actually value. 

Recently, she's been working with a fixer named Spider, who has a particular talent for noticing opportunities and pulling together jobs, and has teamed up with Antaeus and the Witch of the Mists to pull off several recent heists, with some notable success. While she still considers herself a private contractor, she isn't blind to the fact that they pulled of some scores as a team that she wouldn't have managed on her own -- or to the fact that they're all relying on Spider to move the goods afterwards, and get them fair cuts of the profits. 

Amara isn't entirely non-violent, but she prefers the sort of jobs where she's in and out before anyone even notices. She's learned to pick locks, disable security systems, and infiltrate areas that she can't break into outright. She'll retreat to avoid combat, and counsel her team to do the same; better to leave the job incomplete than get hurt, or hurt anyone else. If pressed, she'll point out that it's not just squeamishness on her part; injured guards -- let alone civilians -- attract the sort of attention that no sensible enhanced criminal should want.

Student: Shunt [Team Phoenix]

Name: Charles Daniel Frazier
Nickname: Shunt
Age: 17
Appearance: 5'8" and skinny with muddy brown eyes, lanky brown hair, pale skin with a bit of acne.
Notable Skills: Computer operations, some programming,
Quirks: Savior of the Human Race, retired; suddenly learning how to navigate social interactions; awkward, but not shy; used to being considered weird; talks casually about all sorts of esoterica.

Shunt came to Saint Vincent's insisting that he was the destined savior of the human race. His powers were all over the place and seemed to be only semi-voluntary: objects would move themselves around, hang in the air, open and close,  and generally just arrange themselves for his convenience. His relationships with his would-be peers suffered from the fact that he expected people to accept his assertions, and that he never slept. 

Then the invasion came and he turned it aside with the help of his roommate, and his powers changed in the space of an hour. He found a way to carry them back to the school from halfway across the world, then climbed into bed and collapsed. 

Now he's trying to adjust to sleeping on a regular schedule, dreaming of the invaders that he redirected to Jupiter's moons, and coming to terms with his powers being something that requires a lot more of his direct attention and focus. He's reaching out to the less human-seeming Anomalies at the school, and one of his former roommates has recommended him as a possible new member for Team Phoenix. For all that he looks normal, Charles still identifies with the ones who are outsiders even at this school.

Music: Wings of Steel

The band is Collide: 

Reflections Upon The Occasion Of A Thursday Morning In May

I have said, for many years, that while I do not hate the holidays, I hate the holiday season: that long stretch of October, November, December, and early January where the light grows dim, the traffic grows absurd, and tempers grow short. That is all well and good, but it occurred to me a couple of years ago that in many ways this profound dislike was misplaced. Yes, the holiday season can be stressful, as can the holidays themselves. And yet...

October is not actively trying to kill me. Neither is November, nor December. No, for the past twenty years or more, that honor goes to May. May is the month that wears me down, grinds all my projects to a halt -- sometimes beyond any hope of recovery -- and leaves me in a post-traumatic recovery phase when it finally deigns to depart. May is the month of endings, when everything comes apart. May is the month when everything tries to happen at once.

I'm finding that while it's less so this year, with the new job and some of the old job's responsibilities no longer mine to carry (but, I'm told, left under the supervision of some of the least capable management in the Metroplex and possibly anywhere on the planet) May is still doing its bloody-minded best to kill us. A work conference for me that naturally overlaps with our attempts to get Secondborn through the final few weeks of school (and an emergency room visit), Firstborn packed up and out of his dorm room (he's home now), and Beautiful Woman into some sort of new job; a camping trip that doesn't quite overlap with any of that, but comes right on its heels and right before we'll be attending graduation ceremonies (and also requires a great deal of last-minute re-shuffling); and the gods know what else I might be forgetting. 

Some days the only way forward is to keep cutting and hope that your opponent falls first. So, my dear readers, keep both hands on the hilt and press forward with everything you've got. The gods willing, May will fall before we do.

Challenge: Books to movies/TV

Prompt: Books I Love That Became Films or TV shows

The obvious go-to for me here is Murderbot, which will be available for viewing any day now. That said, and while I haven't managed to watch any of it, I was delighted to see the Wheel of Time books become a TV show -- and one that apparently doesn't suck. 

What I'd really like to see, though, is two other series. So, y'know, if anybody's listening out there who happens to make TV shows, I would love to see: 

• The Books of the Raksura -- a long-lost consort finds his way back to the matriarchal society of dragon-ish shapechangers that gave birth to him and has to adjust to suddenly having a home with them -- a home that comes with conflicts, privileges, and social expectations that he is entirely unprepared to deal with. 
• Banon and Claire -- high sorcery and inventive genius in the industrial revolution of an alternate London, with just the most amazing worldbuilding -- which would be so fun to put on screen. Plus, Lilith Saintcrow really deserves a chance to write the next trilogy in this series. Seriously, put the first three in a TV series and I guarantee that she'll write the next three. 

Make these shows, I am begging you.

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

DoT: New Plan

The man who called himself Daystar looked up at the knock on his door. It was well after business hours, but he was still in his office. There was other business to be done, after all. 

"Enter," he called, then reached for the trigger under his desk. 

The woman who entered was half-elven, lithe and lean, and looked like nothing more than another clerk. She closed the door gently behind her, then smiled. "You needed a favor, Brother?"

Daystar scowled. "I have a job for you, Sister," he corrected gently. "One that pays very well."

Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment. "Something related to your project?"

Reluctantly, he nodded. "I have some tools in place, but I no longer trust them to do everything I need."

"Then you do need a favor, Brother," the woman said, "even if the opportunity pays."

Daystar swallowed down a burst of anger. It wasn't that his sister was wrong, it was just that she wasn't supposed to notice that. "Very well. Yes, I will owe you for this."

"All right. I'm listening."

"There's an exchange happening at the Overlook soon."

"Beggars territory," his sister observed. 

He nodded. "Anderlin Greycloak is meeting with an upper-city merchant in three days, for a discreet purchase. My tools will see to the items involved, but I need you to ensure that neither Greycloak or the merchant survives the meeting."

"Quite a kick to the anthill," the woman observed. "And the targets are prominent. Double my usual rate, and you'll still owe me at least a minor favor."

Daystar could live with that. "Done," he said. 

DoT: Busted

"Damn it." Inara Tillock let the spell drop immediately, but given the way the woman had suddenly looked up, the dwarf had clearly been aware of it. It only remained to be seen whether or not she would say anything to her cousin Dan, and whether or not he would believe her. 

She'd been very proud of the arrangement she'd made: a pair of identical pictures, painted by the same artist, on canvas cut from the same sheet and using the same pigments. The painting she'd gifted to her cousin was nothing more than a seascape, a picture of a storm-tossed ship fighting its way on. All the enchantments had been laid on its twin, which sat in her office.

The arrangement was meant to minimize the chance of discovery; it was foul luck indeed that she'd happened to trigger it when someone happened to be actively detecting magic. What were the odds? They had to be minuscule. Dan certainly hadn't noticed, but given that he was usually making deals -- or, on one memorable occasion, one of his clerks -- he was generally pretty distracted when she looked in. 

She'd have to be careful when looking in on him next. If he did become aware of the painting, he might remove it -- or destroy it. He might also decide to stage a scene or two, to throw her off track. On the other hand, she had to consider the possibility that the dwarf simply wouldn't mention it; she might not want to admit that she was using Detect Magic during their meeting, after all, and even if she didn't mind that she might not have figured out what was going on. This might only have been a near-miss. 

It didn't matter too much either way. She already had all the blackmail material she could ever need; if her cousin stepped out of line, she could bring him right back in. Keeping tabs on his deals was satisfying, but ultimately unnecessary. Being caught at it would be nothing more than a minor embarrassment; it wasn't like she used the same trick for every merchant she cared to spy on, after all.

With a small sigh, Inara Tillock went back to work.

StV: A Friendly Sparring Session, part two

"Okay, whenever you're ready." Ms. Brigham's voice rang out over the speakers; she was watching from the control booth that overlooked the testing chamber. 

Emily Hubbard -- Jade, while she was using her powers -- squared off against Cat Montoya, who went by Nightfall. 

It didn't look like an entirely fair match: while each was athletic in her own way, Jade stood at six-foot-two, towering over Nightfall's five feet of height. Nightfall didn't seem bothered, even as Jade let creamy green energies spill forth to form a longsword in her hands and then wrap her in armor. Nightfall settled her weight and extended her hands as well, then said: "Huh. That's interesting. It was working last night." She looked around the brightly-lit room, then glanced at the clock on the wall. "I might need to make it a little dim in here." 

"Go ahead," said Jade. "As long as I can still see..."

The lights seemed to dim, and shadows gathered in the corners. Nightfall nodded to herself as a smoky black tendril extended from her hands and solidified into a matching broadsword. She looked at Jade's armor for a long moment, then more of the smoky darkness flowed out to surround her body. It wasn't solid the way Jade's armor was, but it covered her outline and made her harder to see.

"Okay, first test!" Nightfall called, and slapped the side of her blade against Jade's. 

Jade's blade pulsed with a burst of green light, then settled; the blades were pressing against each other, each solid to the other. Nightfall called, "Contact! And no unexpected reactions!"

"Speak for yourself!" Jade called back, raising her voice for Ms. Brigham's benefit. "I think you surprised my power."

"Oh," said Nightfall. "That's... that can happen?"

"Apparently so," said Jade. "Testing defenses?"

Nightfall nodded, and Jade raised her blade out of the way as Nightfall slapped her in the side with the flat of her shadow-blade. It struck her armor and stopped. "Okay, good," said Nightfall. "So I can't hurt you while we're practicing."

Jade nodded. "I felt the impact, but no damage."

"Okay," said Nightfall, and drew a breath. "Now try me-- gently."

Jade slapped her lightly on the side, and Nightfall grunted, then stopped and held up a hand. "Okay, so apparently I can't manage armor yet."

"No, but that blurring effect is distracting as hell," Jade acknowledged. 

"Well... good. Okay, you ready to try some light sparring? Very light, I just joined the class a couple of months ago."

Jade considered that. "Let's start with a couple of drills before we try sparring, then."

StV: A Friendly Sparring Session, part one

"Emily?" Catarina Montoya set her books down on the opposite side of the table, glancing around the library to make sure nobody else was close enough to easily listen in. With the variety of powers at the school, there was no guarantee of complete privacy... but this was pretty close, and the combination of looking like a casual meeting and basic courtesy on the part of most other students meant their odds were pretty good. 

Emily Hubbard looked up, nodded, and then smiled. "Cat," she said warmly. "I wasn't expecting a visit from our conquerors."

Cat smiled uncomfortably. "It was just one match," she said, "and it's not like you didn't hit back."

"You still pretty well flattened us," Em said, though she didn't seem bothered by it -- or at least, she didn't seem hostile about it. 

"Thanks, I guess?" Cat looked for a way to change the subject gracefully, then blurted out: "I need a favor."

"Sure," Emily replied immediately. "What sort of favor?"

"I want to try sparring against your power with my darkness."

Emily frowned. "If I can't see, I won't be able to pull my swings. I could injure you badly if I managed to make contact."

"This won't be in the dark," Cat reassured her quickly. "I've been working on some new tricks, and you'll be the first -- or maybe the second -- to see them."

"All right," said Em. "I'm in."

Music: The Misfit's Swing

Diabulus in Musica:

StV: Accelerated Transformation

Ms. Campbell was frowning. "Have you been doing anything different lately, Abby? Working out more? Pushing yourself?"

"No, not really." Abigail Johnson was puzzled. "Why?"

"You're changing faster, I think. It's hard to say for sure, but I think we should move your next appointment up. Can you come by in two weeks?"

"Sure," said Abby. "I, um, I have been learning sorcery. From Sophia."

"You've been what?" asked Ms. Campbell. 

"Learning sorcery," Abby told her. "Apparently I have a talent for it."

Ms. Campbell looked thoughtful. "When you say 'sorcery', do you mean..."

"Like this," Abby told her, and went through the words-and-gesture that Sophia had first taught her. Ms. Campbell flinched back as the gust of wind touched her face and ruffled her tightly-curled hair. 

She stopped, took a deep breath, and held up a hand. "I know we call what Sophia does 'sorcery', but that's just a way of saying that her power as an Anomaly allows her to--"

Abby shook her head. "Her power as an Anomaly is just a sensitivity to certain kinds of energy. Learning to shape and use those energies... that's sorcery."

"Huh. You sound very certain of that." 

Abby shrugged. "That's how it feels to me, too. And that's how Sophia explained it. Lyceus, too, now that I think about it."

Ms. Campbell blinked several times in rapid succession. Then she paced away, stopped at the door, and paced back to the cot where Abby was sitting. "And you started learning this when?"

"...Three weeks ago."

"Abigail..." Ms. Campbell sighed. "I suggest you put a pause on your studies. Whatever you may be learning, it seems it's also accelerating your transformation into... well, whatever you're transforming into."

Abby considered that for a long moment. Then she said, "No." 

"No?"

"I'm transforming anyway. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when. I can't avoid it, so there's no reason not to lean in if that will let me learn sorcery."

Ms. Campbell's face went through about four different expressions in less than a minute. Finally it went completely smooth, and then she nodded. "All right. Next checkup's in two weeks. Let's see where this is going."

StV: Amulets

"There you are," said Cedric, as Sophia stepped out onto the front porch of the school. He'd been sitting at one of the wrought-iron tables with Abby, who was working on her Algebra and occasionally asking him questions about it. 

Neither of them had meant to become friends with the younger girl. In fact, they'd both been a bit suspicious of her motives when she'd wound up going out to see Casablanca with them as a semi-accidental date for Sophia's brother. But then Abby had turned out to have an impressive knack for sorcery, and Sophia was the only one at the school -- possible in the whole country -- who could teach her. 

Sophia sat down beside him, shifting her chair with a metallic scrape so that she was close enough to lean over and kiss his cheek. "Sorry," she said. "It took longer that I expected."

"What did?" asked Cedric, grinning. He couldn't even pretend to be irritated -- he was still entirely too thrilled that she was going out with him. 

"These," said Sophia, and laid a bundle of cloth on the table. She unfolded it carefully to display four pieces of silver jewelry, each set with a stone. "I had to shape the silver myself, then set the matrix for the container, and then hold it in place while I stabilized the whole thing. It wasn't the hardest thing I've ever done, but I'm out of practice and it took some work."

Cedric narrowed his eyes. "Like your amulet?" he asked, making the connection immediately. 

Sophia grinned and nodded immediately. "Exactly. Abby, the two with the moonstones are for you. Each one of them can hold a single spell, keeping it charged and ready until you use it."

Abby looked puzzled. "So I could save an extra energy blast?"

"You could," Sophia affirmed, "but if we keep practicing you'll be able to do those by reflex whenever you need. As you study more and expand your vocabulary, you'll find yourself using some spells very regularly, but you'll still be able to pull together other spells if you need them. This lets you pull them together in advance, so you don't have to think them through in an emergency."

"Oh," said Abby. "Oh. So, if I don't focus on combat spells -- I still don't really want to be on one of the Teams, remember? -- I could learn to, say, do illusions or healing or repairs but still keep one good attack and one good escape ready in the jewelry?" 

"Exactly," Sophia repeated. "When I go out with the Team, I have my go-to spells and we all know what to expect from them. But if I think I might need something else, I can prepare it in advance and keep it in my amulet. It gives me some extra flexibility and the ability to prepare for particular situations."

Abby nodded. "Thank you," she said. "That's... this is... Thank you."

Sophia smiled. "You're very welcome. We can start looking at how to fix a spell in there next week; it's not too different from just casting it normally. Eventually, I can show you how to make your own, but... one thing at a time, okay?"

Abby nodded eagerly, pulling the moonstone amulet over her head and slipping the ring onto one finger, then another until she found a good fit. 

"What about the other two?" asked Cedric.

"Bloodstone," Sophia said evenly. "They're for my brother. Kind of an apology, but also just... trying to help."

"Ah," said Cedric. Then, "Y'know what? Good. You're brother's a good guy. He thinks he's a bad guy, but... he's a good guy."

Villain: Lord Mechanus

Name: Anton Barton Rosemeade
Alias: Lord Mechanus
Age: 66
Appearance: 5'6" with gray eyes and neatly-trimmed silver hair and beard, nicely dressed or wearing powered armor,
Job: Inventor, Corporate Espionage

Anton was the inventor of one of the very first suits of powered armor, and spent a lot of his early career figuring out how to steal money and materials for improvements to his designs. He tangled with police and a number of would-be heroes, and developed a reputation as a villain with a code of honor: he refused to kill under any circumstances. He held to his code even when it saw his suit wrecked and himself sent to jail by a cop who happened to be an anomaly as well; court records suggest that it also contributed to his relatively light sentencing. 

While serving his time, Anton began to reconsider the direction of his chosen career, a line of thinking which was strongly reinforced when, shortly after his release, he was approached by no less than three major manufacturers with offers to license and produce his designs. While he ultimately decided to keep his designs to himself, he also prepared a counter-offer: he would use his technological and criminal prowess to acquire things on behalf of these corporations. After two months of preparation and a week-long demonstration for the first of his clients, he entered the lucrative world of corporate espionage. 

Officially, he works as a consultant and has put his criminal past behind him. Behind the scenes, he uses a combination of social engineering, high-tech devices, and software hacks to steal information from million-dollar corporations for other corporations to take advantage of. He is not averse to keeping information that he deems relevant for himself -- research, designs, and blueprints are a particular interest. This more subtle approach has kept him off the radar of law enforcement, and provided him with a more-than-comfortable lifestyle. His mechanical designs are much smaller and far subtler these days, but he keeps a redesigned power suit behind a false wall in his garage, just in case he ever needs it.

Villain: Antaeus

Name: Franklin Donald Williamson
Alias: Antaeus
Age: 26
Appearance: 6' tall, with frizzy black hair, brown eyes, and dark brown skin. He frequently goes barefoot.
Job: Thief

Much like his namesake, Frank Williamson cannot be defeated as long as he remains touching the ground. Bullets bounce off him; an armored SWAT bus once did as well. Falls don't hurt him as long as he lands on dirt or stone. Even more impressively, he can move through dirt and stone as if it were water, and does not suffocate no matter how long he stays sunken in it. (Concrete is composed of enough stone elements that he can travel through that as well.) 

After hiding his powers through high school and having some bad experiences working early jobs in the service industry, Franklin decided that trying to make a living by honest work in a rigged system was a mug's game. He gave two weeks notice, bought a bandana to use as a mask, and took to robbery instead. Banks and bankers are his favorite targets, but he's also done some commission work robbing auction houses, art galleries, and a few private clubs. 

In the process, he's made some anomalous criminal connections: a fixer called Spider, the Witch of Mists, and a nimble cat-burglar who calls herself Evil Gecko.