Friday Reflection

With Christmas bearing down on us like a freight train, I'm finding myself increasingly baffled by just how much I do not want holidays. Like, how long has it been since I looked forward to a holiday celebration? When did I move from tolerating them to dreading them? The ones I do enjoy -- like Halloween -- are the ones with basically no social obligations.

Since changing jobs, I've been trying to take advantage of being less stressed out: get my sleep schedule under control, eat better, start getting real exercise again... 

What I'm finding is that in order to even attempt that, I'm having to try to roll back what turns out to be a whole bunch of unhealthy coping mechanisms that I've apparently accumulated over fucking years of being low-key miserable. It's hard. It's good, but it's hard. It's like I'd forgotten how to not be miserable -- or, now that I'm not so much so, I don't remember how to stop acting as if I am and need this stuff to get by. 

It starts with putting in the work, I guess. (And it's complicated by the fact that I am not looking forward to moving into 2025, but that's -- say it with me -- another post.)

Anyway, Firstborn's back home, Secondborn is finishing up his last school day of 2024, and I -- once again -- am mere days out from the holiday with no idea what we have planned and what I'm going to need to be ready to do. Which is, to be clear, mostly on me. 

But I think I'd like, at some point, to get back to anticipating holidays. I'd like to be able to look forward to getting together with family and friends. I'd like to be interested enough to be planning for the holidays, instead of basically hiding from them. I'd like to go into them feeling rested and prepared.

I'm starting to remember that that might be possible.

StV: Sudden Onset, part three

The bedroom was untouched, so much so that the smell of smoke was still cloying. Cody opened the door, and Em waited beside him while Ryan went inside. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I can't imagine how hard this is for you."

Cody kept his eyes on Ryan, but said, "It doesn't even seem real sometimes. Like, if he just walked back out of the bathroom I wouldn't even be surprised. And then other times, it's a knife through my heart."

Ryan was moving around the room, touching things here and there before finally stopping beside the bed. The burnt linens were still there; the scorched mattress still in place. He bent down, touched it, and froze. Then he straightened, blinked, and swallowed. 

"Well?" asked Cody, as Ryan came back out of the room. 

"It wasn't--" Ryan swallowed again. "He was more surprised than anything. He wasn't even in pain, or if he was he didn't feel it. I just got this flash: light and heat, surprise starting to turn to worry, and then nothing."

"So he didn't suffer," Cody said slowly.

"No," Ryan told him. "No, I don't believe he did. As far as I can tell, it was over almost before he realized what was happening. He didn't even have time to be scared."

"Get out," said Cody.

Em drew back, startled, and Cody added. "Sorry. Thank you. But we need to be alone with this. Get out."

"Done," she said, and led Ryan back outside.

StV: Sudden Onset, part two

"We've answered a lot of questions already," Mrs. Donaldson said. 

"Those fucking cops," Cody put in with quiet fury. 

His mother quieted him with a look, and he looked away, swallowed, and then turned his attention back to Em. She paused, choosing her words carefully, and said, "Mrs. Donaldson, we're Anomalies. We think Evan might have been one too."

"Well," said Cody, and gave a bitter, strangled laugh. "That's better than thinking that he somehow committed suicide by setting himself on fire in his own bed."

Mrs Donaldson was staring at them, though. "Show me," she said, quietly commanding.

Em met her eyes. "All right." She let her own strange ability drift out of her, forming a mug out of shimmering green force. She poured her soda into it, then took a sip; the burst of sugar and caffeine was a profound relief to her system. 

Cody said, "They're telling the truth, Mom." He glanced at Em. "That's my thing. I can tell when somebody is lying. You're not."

She nodded, trying not to get distracted by his cheekbones. "I just make these shapes."

Ryan sighed. "But I'm a sensitive. I can see and hear things in other places, and sometimes I can pick up impressions by touching objects." 

Mrs. Donaldson drew in a deep breath, held it, and then sighed. "All right. I'm going to tell you something that we haven't told anybody else, and I'm trusting you to keep it to yourselves. You're right; Evan was an Anomaly, just like Cody is. It skipped me, but my mother had a bit of the Sight and my grandmother was supposed to be a witch." She swallowed, then wiped at her eyes. "Evan had the gift of fire. I mean, he could warm things up, but when he called to the fire it came. We all saw it. The whole family knew. We just... didn't say anything, after he..." 

Cody crossed to his mother and knelt beside her. He looked at Em again, and this time there was something like resentment on his face. "So what do you want from us?" he asked. 

Em drew breath to answer, but Ryan put a hand on her shoulder. "Will you let me see his room?" he asked gently. "It's okay if you say No. But we'd like to know what really happened, and I think you would too."

Cody said, "Mom?" 

"Yes," she said,  then choked off whatever she might have said next. 

He stood up. "All right. Come with me."

StV: Sudden Onset, part one

Jade paused outside the door to compose herself, and Snoop took a moment as well. This wasn't a situation she wanted to walk into lightly; the family was grieving, after all. The rest of Team Phoenix was around, but staying out of sight; they were there because school policy said they had to be, but they wouldn't be part of this mission unless something went very, very wrong. 

"All right," she said quietly. "Let's do this." She rang the doorbell and waited. 

The woman who opened the door was wearing shorts and a rumpled t-shirt, and had her sandy blonde hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. "Can I help you?" she asked. 

She'd made her voice polite, even friendly, but there was something fragile underneath. This was a woman who was holding it together by an act of will, maybe because she had no other choice. 

Jade asked: "Mrs. Donaldson?" When the woman nodded, she added more cautiously: "Emily Hubbard. My friends call me Em. We came about Evan."

The woman froze, and for a moment her face was a raw study in grief. Then she stiffened, and looked the pair of them over. After a moment she asked, "Were you friends of his?"

Jade shook her head. "No. We just... look, this is going to sound crazy, but we just came to check on something." She looked around. "Can we come inside? It's not easy to explain."

Mrs. Donaldson only came up to her eyebrows, but the look she gave Jade made the younger girl feel about two feet high. "You aren't reporters, are you?" 

"No," said Spook firmly. "Not even for a school newspaper." He paused, then added, "Ryan Darling."

"Good," she said, looking him over. "All right, come in. You want some water? Or a soda?"

"We wouldn't want to impose," Jade said, as she followed the grieving mother into the house, "but if you don't mind, I could use a soda."

"I offered," said Mrs. Donaldson, in a mild tone that suggested that she wouldn't have done so if it had been an imposition. "Wait here in the living room, and I'll be right back." She turned to Snoop. "What about you?"

"Water would be fine," he said quickly. 

"All right." Mrs. Donaldson crossed to a doorway that apparently led into the kitchen and disappeared. 

Jade took a quick moment to look around. The house was nice, but not ostentatious; thoroughly middle-class, with a fireplace against the far wall and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. There were posters for the Lord of the Rings movies hung on the wall, along with some of the weapons from the movies; Jade found herself smiling at that. 

"Who are you?" asked a new voice, this one male, young, and curious. 

Jade turned to face a young man -- her own age, or close enough -- who'd evidently come up from the back of the house. He was lean, with a rangy, broad-shouldered build; he had his mother's sandy hair, also in a ponytail, and striking blue eyes. 

"Ah," said Jade, to cover her hesitation. "You must be Cody. I'm Emily Hubbard -- Em. This is my friend Ryan. We, um..." She swallowed. 

"They came about Evan," said Mrs. Donaldson, coming back into the room with a trio of glasses on a small tray. 

"Oh," said Cody, suddenly downcast. He moved to join them as they sat down, though.

Music: Adeste Fideles

 Dan Vasc with a metal cover of this Latin classic: 

Villain: Preacher Strong

Name: Reverend Nicolas Webster Strong
Alias: Preacher Strong
Age: 52
Appearance: A tall, imposing man in his mid-forties with neatly-trimmed salt-and-pepper hair, always dressed neatly in a suit and tie.
Job: Preacher, Human Supremacist

Nicholas Strong is a man who has never questioned much of anything. Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; Humanity is living in the End Times and the End of Days is nearly upon us; Satan and his demonic servants are everywhere waiting to tempt the faithful from the narrow path of Truth. The Judgement could come any day, like a thief in the night, and the only way to be ready for it is to repent your sins and dedicate your life to Jesus. 

A fire-and-brimstone preacher with powerful convictions, Preacher Strong moved from street preaching to traveling ministry, touting his expertise on defeating evil spirits and actual demons; he claims to have faced down monsters through the power of his faith in God. He preaches against those who have traded their souls away to the Devil in exchange for power, and in favor of those who turn away from such evil and give their lives to God. He is not a faith healer as such, but there have been a few incidents reported and one of followers is supposed to be a former Anomaly.

He has a wife and daughter in Royse City, Texas, but with the demands of his ministry he seldom sees them.

Den of Thieves: Telk's Reckoning, part two

"What's this I hear?"

Orek Silverfist was too large for the office door, but he came through the doorway with a graceful twist, lowering his body for a single step. He wore loose clothing in shades of gray, covered with a loose, gauzy mantle that looked vaguely like a funeral shroud. It wasn't the plain-but-nice suit he wore when he was in the office; this was what he wore when he was doing work. A black cap covered his silver hair, but the mask that would have hidden his nose and mouth hung loose around his neck instead.

Telk looked up from beside his desk, where he was inspecting the lump on the back of Smash's head. He swallowed, then pressed forward. If this disgrace meant his fall, he could at least meet his fate with some dignity. "It's what I said in the note, boss. I've been taken -- completely. Chest's empty, money's gone. There was fight earlier -- a big one -- and by the time it was over Smash was missing. Then Vik showed up, and when I went to give him my cut the chest was empty."

Orek frowned, but the expression was thoughtful rather than angry. For all his size, Silverfist wasn't a berserker; he was calm, disciplined, and precise. He wouldn't lose his temper; he wouldn't make an angry mistake. Telk had been counting on that, but seeing it in action was reassuring and terrifying in equal measure. 

"You're not trying to play me, are you?" Orek shifted just a little bit, a panther flexing its claws as it lined up to pounce. 

"No, boss," Talk said quickly. "We're loyal -- both of us. And even if we weren't, we aren't stupid enough to pull something like that."

Orek studied him for a long moment. "All right. Walk me through it. A fight broke out... who started it?"

"One of the dockworkers," said Smash. "It was real crowded 'cause of the bard -- like, I had to turn people away crowded -- and one of 'em punched the guy next to him. With all the people, it was a brawl before I could get to 'em."

"I see," Orek came forward and gestured for Smash to turn around before taking a moment to examine the massive goose egg on the back of the hobgoblin's head. "And this is why you were missing?"

Smash nodded, and from the sound of his voice he was fiercely embarrassed. "I was knocking people over the head and throwing 'em out, trying to break it up, and somebody knocked me over the head." 

"I found him a few minutes ago in a sling under the bridge," Talk said. "Had to do a bit of work with a rope ladder to get him back out."

Smash shuddered, and Orek stepped back. "All right, turn back around. So somebody took out Smash and stashed him under the bridge. Where were you?" 

Telk gestured. "Just outside the door, slapping people around to get their attention. By the time I did, most of the crowd was gone. I was lookin' for Smash when Vik showed up, and that's when we found out the money was gone."

"How did you find out?" asked Orek, calm and relentless. 

Telk swallowed. "Well, I... I unlocked the chest and I opened it, and it was empty. Vik saw--"

"I already heard Vik's piece of this," said Orek, quietly. 

Oh, yeah, he's furious. Telk forced himself to straighten. "So I sent you that note, and went to ask the bard if he'd seen anything. He hadn't."

There was a moment of silence as Orek considered this. "Could the bard have done it?"

"I don't see how," Telk said reluctantly, because it would have been extremely convenient if the bard had done it and happened to be sitting out there with the money still on him. He knew better, though. The Sacred Twins didn't love him that much. "I could hear him playing the whole time, and Edwin -- he's the server -- swears the guy kicked the bench over and kept them both safe behind it."

That earned a grunt from Orek. The big man looked at the windows, clearly noting the metal bars, then said: "So somebody was fast enough and quiet enough to get in and out during the fight." 

Telk nodded nervously. "It was either that or magic, boss."

Orek looked around. "Very well. I believe you. You're forgiven this month's cut, and I'll send funds so you can pay your people. And then we'll find the people who did this, and make an example of them. Nobody cuts in on the Guild." He hesitated, then added: "If you think of anything else, send a runner. Otherwise, I'll let you know."

Telk nodded. When he looked up again, Orek Silverfist was gone.

Music: Where It's At

Beck:

Den of Thieves: Telk's Reckoning, part one

Telk led the courier Vik into his back office, then stepped forward and bent down to open the chest -- pad in place to avoid the needle trap, and key inserted confidently as he always did it. He lifted the lid, regarded the empty interior, and then closed it again. 

"Telk?" asked Vik. 

Telk lifted the lid again, confirming that the chest was empty. "I'm fucked," he said under his breath, and then: "Goblinfuckers! We've been hit."

Vik shifted forward, looking over his shoulder. "Oh, shit." 

"It must have happened during the brawl," he said, and straightened. 

"Can you make it good?" asked Vik. 

"No!" Telk was shouting, but he didn't care. The door was closed, and Vik would understand. "This was everything. I can't send my cut, I can't pay my people, and on top of that Smash is missing."

Vik took this in with the imperturbable calm of somebody whose problem it definitely wasn't. "All right. What do you do?"

Telk sighed and pushed past him to the desk. Business was still business, after all. His immediate boss was Orek, but this might go all the way up to Orallia. He pulled a fresh sheet of paper, plucked his pen from the inkwell and gave it a quick wipe. Just the facts, he thought, and started to write.

I've been hit. Funds are gone completely. Must have happened during the brawl tonight. He sprinkled sand over the ink, gave it a moment to dry, and then shook it clean and handed it to Vik. "Get that to Orek. Don't say anything to anybody."

"You don't have to tell me," said Vik. "I wish you luck."

Could have used that earlier, Telk thought, but he only said, "Likewise."

He looked around, but the bars were still on the windows and the chest had been locked. Could someone have removed the money by sorcery? And if they could, why would they? No, it had probably happened during the fight. The lock on the chest wasn't the best, but it was enough to turn away anybody who knew what to expect from the Guild. If Smash still lived, if Telk could find him, that might tell him more. Had the bard seen anything?

Frowning, he went outside to ask.

Student: Team Leader Spark [Team Dragon]

Name: Gregory "Greg" Alan Hendricks
Nickname: Spark
Age: 18
Appearance: 6' 1" tall, broad-shouldered, and athletic; his brown hair is neatly trimmed and fashionably styled, and he carries himself with an air of authority.
Notable Skills: football, hockey, basketball, strategy and tactics, eagle scout, driving
Quirks: rules-oriented, quick to make decisions but has trouble changing his mind, prone to mansplaining/sharing expertise, loves anime and video games, prefers dogs to cats

As the captain of Team Dragon, Spark is self-assured, decisive, and goal-oriented. As when playing sports, he wants his team to win -- and he wants to take care of his people. This makes him an ideal leader in most sorts of contests, but becomes a challenge when the goal is less clearly defined. He does not deal well with nuance, and gets angry with situations that he can't easily categorize. His saving grace is that he is willing to listen to his team; both Veil and Catapult can offer insights that he lacks. 

As a student, he is attentive but not always insightful; he remembers facts and narratives but doesn't always consider them critically. As a friend he is loyal and prone to giving and receiving a certain amount of good-natured teasing. His tendency to be competitive in interpersonal interactions rubs a lot of the other students the wrong way.

Student: Haunts

Name: Amanda Marie Williamson
Nickname: Haunts
Age: 16
Appearance: 5' tall with curly black hair and extremely pale skin that makes her eyes seem even darker than they are, medium build, wears a lot of black
Notable Skills: Drawing, Writing, Poetry, Tennis, Driving, Swimming
Quirks: speaks in a dull monotone, writes a lot of fanfic, loves horror movies/books/stories, bisexual, has a tarot deck but doesn't actually know how to read it

Amanda has been having nightmares and adding them to her sketchbook for as long as she can remember. It's a daily ritual for her, binding the nightmare to the page and trapping it there. If she doesn't, the nightmares come out. She's also very protective of her sketchbook, because anyone else looking at the drawings in it calls the nightmare out to come for them-- and the creatures she dreams of can be very dangerous. After a couple of incidents in middle school, Amanda started leaning in on her reputation as The Spooky Girl, adopting a very goth style of dress and finding catharsis in the horror genre. She makes it a point never to sound particularly interested in anyone or anything, but she quietly enjoys her studies and gets good grades. Her parents collect her for holidays and hold to the hope that someday she'll gain some sort of mastery over this peculiar ability. So far though, she's never been able to conjure a monster deliberately; it only happens when she's dreaming.

Student: Goblin

Name: Vic
Nickname: Goblin
Age: 15
Appearance: 4'3, wiry build, indeterminate gender, with a wide mouth and teeth like a shark. Soft, black hair in a ponytail. Toes and fingertips are equipped with short, black claws.
Notable Skills: Hiding, Biting, Exploring (Good Sense of Direction), Well-Spoken, Good with Numbers, Climbing, Computer Helpdesk
Quirks: draws maps, keeps a collection of camping supplies in a daypack in their room, likes exploring hard-to-reach places, good listener and keeps secrets, doesn't want to own anything more than they need

Goblin claims that they'd been living in the school for nearly three years before they emerged from hiding and started attending classes. Before that, they'd been living in the forgotten corners of a library before a newly-installed security system tripped them up, and before that there might have been an orphanage. Despite their somewhat feral appearance, Goblin has a rather serene, unflappable air about them. 

Their anomaly is notably unusual in that it combines some physical changes (small size, green skin, teeth and claws) with minor telekinesis and short-range teleportation. The telekinesis is enough to lift a couple of books, gum up a mechanis, or work a lock -- and it includes feedback, so Goblin can actually feel what they're doing with the power. Their teleportation can take them as much as ninety feet in any direction, but requires a three-second warmup.

Goblin's companions are mostly the other physical misfits -- Nightfox, Troll, Magehand, Tendril, and Leaves, among others -- but that doesn't seem to come from being shy or uncomfortable around people with more conventional appearances. Those just seem to be the people that Goblin thinks could use a friend.

StV: Sneaking Out

"Hey, Fox." Goblin perched on a high branch, looking down at the fire that really shouldn't have been burning here in the small wooded area at the back of the estate. "You're out late."

"Couldn't sleep," she said, then drew a breath and forced herself to speak in a friendlier tone. "Come on down, if you like."

Goblin was her own age -- at least, she thought so -- but looked younger, young enough to make their gender impossible to determine at first glance -- and Nightfox had never asked. It wasn't her business. They kept their own schedule and the teachers allowed it, which was already more than she needed to know. 

There was a quiet whump as Goblin landed beside her, their descent softened by their abilities. "Ah," they said. "Fire. I don't see real fire very often."

Nightfox shrugged. "It's cold enough now. And it gives me something to stare at."

"Yeah," Goblin told her. "Me too."

At the moment, Nightfox's configuration was a mix of feline and humanoid. She could change that by an act of will, or it could change by reflex. When she'd first arrived here, she'd felt like she was finally gaining some control over her power; for the last several months, though, it had felt more like she was coming to terms with the ways in which her power controlled her.

"I miss fire," Goblin told her. "I've missed you."

She glanced at them. "You're still my friend."

"You're still mine." They turned their eyes back to the flames. "But you haven't been around."

"No," Nightfox admitted. "I haven't. Not for you, not for anybody."

Goblin was quiet for long enough that Nightfox thought they weren't going to speak further. Then they said, "Can I help?"

Nightfox growled -- frustrated, not angry. "I don't know. I just wish... I wasn't like this. Sometimes. Sometimes it's magnificent and I don't want to give it up. Sometimes I wish I could do this and still be beautiful."

"You are beautiful," said Goblin. "Furry, sure. But look at you. Even with the fur, you're beautiful. Like me, and being short and green. Still beautiful."

Nightfox was surprised by the tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she said after a moment. "And yes, in case you need to hear it from somebody else. You're beautiful too."

"I know," said Goblin, and went back to watching the fire.

Voyages of the Dauntless: Imperial City

Pre-game notes to myself...

The capital city of Domitas is visible a full day before your arrival. The city itself has spread well beyond its three sets of gleaming marble walls, expanding to fill the whole of an ancient valley. At its center, the palace sits atop a single stone peak, surrounded on three sides by steep cliffs but angling down gently to the north. You're still too far away to see the details, but you remember the city's five districts from earlier visits: the aristocratic enclave of the central peak, the temple district to the north at its base, the trade district to the west and the artisan's district to the east. To the south, hidden discreetly behind the palace and deep in the shadow cast by it, is the warren. You'll be there before too much longer; what are you doing? 

The last time you came through here, the public airdocks were located at the western edge of the trade district. The district, it seems, has now grown around them, but the clean heights of the marble towers are exactly where you remember them. A flash of light catches your eye; one of the Guides is using a mirror to signal you in the Imperial Code. Who recognizes it? Roll for piloting. 

They're directing you to Tower Seven, East Dock. What are you doing?

There is a delegation waiting, with a smartly-dressed human woman in front. She marches out from the tower as soon as the ship is secured, trailed by a half-dozen armed men. "This is the Dauntless?" asks the human woman, looking around at the deck of the airship as if she owns it already. "Who is the captain?" What are you doing?

"I am Harbormaster Jade Tanisborn," she tells you, "and on the authority of his supreme majesty King Augustus Agrippo, this ship is now formally impounded on suspicion of transporting illicit goods." She glances at the small troop of guardsmen who have crossed the ramp behind her. They are all holding cocked and loaded crossbows. "If there is a gnome present, have him step forth. It will not go well for you if you do not." What are you doing?

The note reads, Check the rat. The Dauntless doesn't have a rat, not since you threw Scratch over the side. What are you doing?

The Temple of Xandria is a simple brick building in a district of marble, basalt, obsidian, and granite. The wide single door sits at street level and is already open, spilling the day's light into the interior. Large, arched windows of clear glass add further light. There is an unusually wide desk just inside, with four people sitting along it: three humans and one half-elf. The half-elf is speaking with an elderly human, who is apparently complaining about his landlord; a human woman is filling out paperwork, and the other two human men appear unoccupied and (roll Perception) might be engaging in a discreet game of cards hidden by the desk. What are you doing?

"I am Darek Frostbreather," says the robed dragonborn, as he looks you over. "What brings you to the Temple of Xandria?" How do you answer?

Villain: Sandman

Name: Augustus "Gus" Anthony Wilson
Alias: Sandman
Age: 47
Appearance: 5' 6", with sandy blond hair cut short, clean-shaven, light brown eyes, pot belly, light skin
Job: Aspiring Criminal Mastermind, bank robber

Gus Wilson was a building inspector for the city of Greenville, TX until he discovered that he was also an anomaly. Tired of dealing with irresponsible and recalcitrant contractors, departmental politics, and the constant scrimping and saving that came with his undersized government paycheck, he turned to robbing banks instead. To do this, he uses the simplest and most direct of his powers: the ability to put other people to sleep by an act of will. 

With everyone in the building unconscious, he simply walks in, empties the registers, and leaves. With gloves and a ski mask, he's able to avoid identification by video footage and other security measures. Victims of his power report restful sleep and pleasant dreams, which are also a result of his influence. He's quite capable of producing nightmares instead, but chooses not to. 

A couple of jobs back, he happened to hit a bank where one of the patrons had telepathic defenses strong enough to resist his power; as a result, Gus has now caught the attention of a mob boss in Dallas who would very much like to recruit him. 

Gus' other abilities are dream-based: he can influence the nature of someone's dreams, enter them himself, or even travel through dreams to emerge elsewhere -- though his one experience with the latter suggests that it's extremely dangerous, so he saves that for serious emergencies.

Well, I think we survived.

 We still have one more family dinner left, but that one'll be at a restaurant and should be fairly simple. We have some family activities planned, which -- fortunately -- mostly don't require a lot of my emotional investment, so that should be okay too. On the whole, I'm coming into Black Friday (was yesterday Thursday?) feeling pretty good and ready to start watching some seasonal movies. 

Thanksgiving 2024

I'm actually grateful for a lot of things, particularly my family, but for today I'm just going to drop this here because it's seasonal.

Public Figure: Sunset

Name: Tanya Anne Griffin
Codename: Sunset
Age: 41
Appearance: A tall (6') heavyset, matronly woman with brown eyes and hair dyed some bright color, bright clothes that go with her hair, a pleasant smile. Or anyone else she wants to look like.
Job: Activist, social worker, museum administrator

Tanya Anne Griffin is pretty much the perfect stereotype of the pro-anomaly activist: a politically-active hippy Unitarian whose parents used to try to chat with the FBI agents who had taps on their phone during the Vietnam War. Until recently, her official job was as junior administrator for a museum, but at the moment she's wanted by the FBI for questioning and has gone missing until she "gets that sorted out", a course that caused her to send her son Iris to live with his father Jinx at the Saint Vincent School for Exception Youth in the interim.

As Sunset, Tanya is a shapeshifter who excels at mimicry, impersonation, and doing highly unlikely things with her flesh, bone, and skin. She is limited to a broadly humanoid configuration, but can increase or decrease her mass by about 25% and has some startlingly horrific combat forms that she keeps memorized for emergencies -- mainly to scare people, as she is generally opposed to violence. Given time and concentration, she can also use her shapechanging power to heal herself, effectively shifting damaged tissues back together. 

What really sets her abilities apart is that she can use them on other people, healing them or altering their appearances -- a set of abilities that she has used to cultivate connections with reliable allies on both sides of the law.

Student: Nightfox

Name: Faith Caitlyn Edwards
Nickname: Nightfox
Age: 17
Appearance: Variable, but always mammalian, feminine, and covered in black fur; usually humanoid with feline elements, as fully human bone structure with fur squicks some people out.
Notable Skills: Drawing, Painting, Fencing, Hunting, Movie Trivia, Campfire Cooking
Quirks: Likes fire(s), listens to classic country music, always has a sketchbook with her, bathes very regularly (worried about scent), wishes she could be normal

Faith Edwards was a small-town girl living a double life. In public she was the perfect little middle-schooler: good grades, active in her church's youth group and her school's cheerleading team, polite and helpful. At home, nothing she did was ever good enough, and her parents fought endlessly. (Her daddy was a roofer and construction worker whose main goal was to become a foreman so he could be the one ordering people around. Her mother was a homemaker and active in the church and the PTA, and always emphasized putting on a good face as an example to others.)  

She had just turned fourteen when she woke up covered in black fur. Her parents reacted predictably, with her mother trying to shave the fur from her face and demanding that Faith stay still, will you? while the girl was still struggling with her body's desire to completely transform. Her father burst into her room, drunk and flinging wild accusations about sinful behavior and judgements from God. Overwhelmed, Faith pushed her mother away and escaped through the bedroom window, fleeing into the scrublands outside town and becoming a menace to the local ranches as she struggled to learn how to keep herself fed and master her new abilities. (Her parents were never formally charged with anything, but Faith Caitlyn Edwards remains on the books as a Missing Persons case.) 

A year or so later, Nightfox was taken in by an elderly fellow Anomaly named Jake Wyrick, who helped her settle into her new life and eventually connected her with Saint Vincent's. She is now in her third year as a student there.

Villain: Terminator

Name: Olivia Newton Johnson
Alias: Terminator
Age: 22
Appearance: 6'2", broad-shouldered, athletic, favors full-body clothing, blue eyes, dark brown hair in a buzz cut.
Job: Anomaly-hunter for the CIA's DAAT program

Terminator is an alpha hound, authorized to hunt for anomalies on her own or lead teams of her fellow hounds as needed. Her ability as an Anomaly is to read people's auras, which gives her a very reliable way of spotting fellow anomalies at close range. To assist her with bringing them in, the Program provided experimental augments to replace her arms and legs, and armor to protect the rest of her. Fully kitted out, Terminator is well-armored and armed with a variety of advanced weaponry and sensors.  Her helmet and mask are shaped to resemble a gleaming steel skull.

In person, Terminator is friendly and charming, looming over most people while actively engaging with their interests. It is only later that she will move on them, pressing for certain decisions or detaining them for addition to the program. Olivia applied to the CIA after graduating high school, and was delighted to be assigned to the DAAT program.

Her handler uses the callsign Falconer and frequently assists Terminator by setting up as a sniper. She also provides intelligence and can call in help if needed. Falconer has been criticized for treating Terminator too much like a partner and not enough like a hound, but the two women work well together and their record is impeccable.

StV: Student Discipline

Sarah hadn't come to break up a fight, but apparently this particular Friday morning had other ideas; the crashing, smashing sounds were unmistakable. The students had backed away from the confrontation, and one of them -- Chance -- nodded as she passed. "It's okay, Ms. Delacorte. Sphere's got 'em contained."

She nodded an acknowledgment but continued forward. Sphere -- whose real name was Henry Ritter -- would keep the fighting separate from the rest of the students, but she still needed to break it up. "Who is it?" she asked, touching another student on the shoulder. 

This one was Jacques Darrieux -- Star -- who frowned as he stepped aside. "Titan finally managed to insult Catapult, so now she's playing pinball with him while he's playing Whack-A-Mole with her."

That was going to be a problem. Titan was inhumanly strong and resistant to damage. Catapult wasn't, but her ability to control momentum and her skill at using it put them on a pretty level playing field. Sarah sighed. Likely she'd have students watching the video of this fight for some of her classes later on, but right now she needed to put a stop to it. Which was a problem, since she wasn't nearly strong enough to lay Titan out, and she couldn't talk Catapult down until the idiot quit swinging at her.

I shouldn't think of my student as an idiot, Sarah reminded herself. Even when he gets into a fight like this.

She reached the edge of the sphere just in time to see Titan move in for another punch at Catapult, who met it with a counter-punch that shuddered the sphere a couple of feet back behind her. Titan's impact on the far side immediately shuddered it forward again, and the floor underneath them dropped by a full foot as the damage tore up the floor, ceiling, and likely some load-bearing walls on the next floor down. 

"Sphere!" she shouted, looking around until she found Henry looking back at her. 

Drop it? he signed. 

She signed back. Drop it now.

The invisible sphere surrounding the two combatants disappeared, and the floor gave up and collapsed in on itself, taking both of them down with it. Damn it. Sarah leapt into the pit, landed on Titan's head with both feet, and kicked off again as Catapult swept up a barrage of debris and began pelting the larger student with it. "Knock it off!" 

Catapult took three steps back, then ceased her assault. Titan was still on his feet, but he was swaying and looked like he was about to collapse. On the edge of the cafeteria floor above, the new boy was watching raptly. 

She'd half-expected to find him at the middle of this, but no. Not this time. He was just... studying it. She turned her attention back to the students who'd been fighting. "James, Paula, both of you sit down now." She didn't usually pull out her Teacher Voice, the one she'd perfected on unruly second-graders in an earlier job that now seemed like another life. This time, though, it did the trick perfectly: they both sat, and suddenly the fight was over. "All right," she said slowly. "Somebody explain to me why there's a hole in the cafeteria floor."

StV: Clothing as Evidence

The clock on the computer screen said 3:01 AM when Dave opened the door for Dianna, who'd either taken time to pull on slacks and a blouse, or (more likely) was still wearing yesterday's outfit. "Okay," he said, "I was on call. Why are you still up?"

Dianna raised her eyebrows, but allowed herself a small smile as well. "How about I tell you once it works out?"

"Big secret, huh?" Dave stepped back as Dianna came into the room, and motioned towards the kitchen. "All right." He didn't mind Dianna keeping a secret or two; she was the auxiliary headmistress, after all, as well as a friend. "Kid's clothes are in the sink. They were absolutely soaked."

Dianna sighed and followed him across his living area, ignoring the scattered clothes and computer equipment. It wasn't that Dave didn't clean; it was just that he tended to do it in bursts, and with the latest security updates he was running behind. Dianna knew him well enough not to comment.

"Well," she said, looking down at the sink, "it's all very black."

Dave fished the jacket out and started going through the pockets. Dianna started to reach for the shirt, then paused. "That jacket still has a tag on it."

He turned the wet leather around. "It does."

"The shirt is very new, too. So are the pants. No signs of wear at all."

"Oh, good. So he stole this whole outfit in order to break in to the school." He hung the jacket on the back of one his kitchen chairs. It might be stolen, but it at least deserved the chance to dry out. 

"I'd say so," Dianna said, running a quick hand over the cloth. "No wallet, no keys, no phone... nothing in the boots..." She paused then, set the clothing back down. "You said he called himself Lucian?"

Dave nodded. "Yeah. More importantly, he said he was looking for his sister: Sophia Antonius."

Dianna stopped. "And you're just mentioning this now?"

"I figured it could wait, since she's away." He yawned. "Sorry. Tired. Possibly not thinking straight."

Dianna made a thoughtful little hmmm noise. "Just a moment."

Dave had never been sensitive enough to actually feel it when Dianna reached out with her power,  but he knew that shift her in attention, that slight re-balancing of the way she stood. "Are you sure-- no, there he is. Sort of."

"Sort of?" asked Dave. Did he run? He'd thought the kid would stay the night, but maybe he'd misjudged. 

Dianna blinked twice, and was suddenly fully present in Dave's kitchen again. "He's a blank. Completely walled off. I can't read him at all; I can barely find him. And on that basis alone, I'm entirely prepared to believe that he's Sophia's brother."

"Oh," said Dave. It had occurred to him that the boy's arrival might cause some problems with -- or for -- Sophia, but he'd forgotten just how much the girl had not wanted any further contact with her family. It was coming back to him now, though: Team Dragon's return, Sophia's arrival with them, her explanation of the Preserve and of Imperia, the last colony of the Roman empire, where she'd been born. She didn't want to go back, she'd explained. She didn't want anything to do with her heritage, her city, and especially her family. He shook himself, trying rattle his thoughts into full wakefulness. "Yeah, that might be a problem."

Dianna tapped her lip. "You left him with Charles?"

Dave nodded. 

"Just a second, then," she said, and he watched her fade out again even though physically she was completely present. She was back a moment later. "Charles says he's still there, and snoring." 

"I'm not surprised," Dave admitted. "Relieved, but not surprised."

Dianna smiled at him, the sort of full expression that she only offered in private. "So, walk through this with me?"

"Sure."

"This child, Lucian, comes to the school looking for Sophia. He says he's her brother."

Dave nodded. "There's a definite physical resemblance."

Dianna tilted her head, considering that. "Assume, for the sake of argument, that it's true. He shows up, ready to break in, but Cloudburst finds him first. Only they don't fight, and somehow she tricks him into waiting in the girls shower while she goes to get you. Right?"

"I don't think she tricked him, exactly," Dave said. "Maneuvered, maybe. But I think he went along with her."

"So he wanted us to find him?" Dianna frowned. "That would be one way to infiltrate the school, I guess."

Dave shook his head. "I don't think so. I think he really meant to break in, look around, and leave unnoticed..." 

"Optimist," Dianna muttered. 

"But, well... Maria was quite taken with him. I think it's more that when his plan went awry and she took charge, he decided not fight it. Maria's cute; I wouldn't be surprised if he found her attractive, too."

"Attractive enough to let her put him in a shower and steal his clothes," Dianna said. "He's not shy, this one."

Dave chuckled. "No. He seemed wary, but not hostile, and he went along with me the same way I'd imagine he went along with Maria: curious, cautious, but not too worried. I think -- from some of the things he said -- that he expected this place to be much worse than it is. Honestly, I don't think he's going to be any kind of a problem until he decides to be one -- and I think that's most likely to happen when he finally meets up with Sophia."

"If we let him," Dianna said frostily. "We'll need to consult with her before that happens. Would you let Bridge know?"

 "Already done," Dave told her. He'd forgotten just how much of a problem this might be, but not that it might be a problem. "I'll send him a follow-up to emphasize how important it is."

"All right." Dianna shook her head. "I'll tell Jonathan what we know, and try to set up an interview between classes. Tomorrow is... Friday? All right. If I can't find an empty spot in the schedule, I'll have Sarah swing by and look him over, see what she thinks." She shook her head. "I keep telling myself that we've taken in more troubled, more dangerous students, but..."

"Yeah," answered Dave. "With that family, I worry about surprises."

StV: Electronic Reflections

Jinx? You're up? What's wrong?

Dave Jenkins blinked at the computer screen. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to type up a quick alert and go back to bed. It was... he glanced at the corner of the screen... a little shy of three in the morning, and nobody in their right mind should be awake right now. Except for Charles. And Maria, though arguably she's never quite in her right mind during thunderstorms. And the new kid, though with any luck he's asleep by now. But this was Dianna, so...

You sitting down? he typed.

The icon rippled to indicate that she was typing, then stopped. He could almost see her hesitating over her keyboard. What happened now? she responded finally.

New arrival. Calls himself Lucian. LOOKS like he was breaking into the school (black clothes, face mask) but Maria caught him on the way in.

Which Maria?

Cloudburst. Stuffed him in the first-floor shower on the girls wing and told him to stay put. Then she took his clothes and came to get me.

There was a very long pause, long enough to make Dave wonder if Dianna had just gotten up from her desk to come see him in person. Then: ...Do I want to know how she managed that? 

Probably not. She says nothing happened, and I believe her. 

Jesus. Why don't we have her on one of the teams already?

I'd have to check her file. I think we were waiting for her to get better control over electricity.

Flag that for me, would you? She'll be more help using her brain like that than she ever will with powers. 

Dave made a note on the pad he kept beside the keyboard. He had half a dozen ways of keeping up with tasks electronically, but there was nothing that quite matched the satisfaction of crossing something off a list on a physical piece of paper. 

Dianna was typing again, so he waited. You've still got the kid's clothes? 

Dave hesitated for a moment, knowing what would come next, and then typed: Yes. 

Good. I'll be right down.

Student: Indigo

Name: Arabella Elizabeth Campbell
Codename: Indigo
Age: 15
Appearance: 5'9" with medium-dark brown skin, frizzy blue-black hair, and warm brown eyes
Notable Skills: Dance, Gymnastics, Parkour, Aikido, Computer Programming/Applications, Bass (upright or guitar), Singing, Math
Quirks: loves animals and children, touchy-feely, punctual, polite/formal with strangers, afraid of heights

Ara is starting her first year at school, and has tentatively agreed to start dating Iris. (She actually really likes him -- they've been friends for years -- she's just not sure about "the dating thing".) Her mother is Glimmer, and as a result of her background and her (somewhat precocious) control of her powers, she was offered a chance to try out for Team Phoenix. She turned it down, however, on the basis that even if she could control her powers she wasn't ready yet, socially or intellectually. 

As a student and the daughter of a faculty member, Ara is careful to keep her grades in the high Bs and low As. Her real love is physical exercise, followed by music; she has recently taken an interest in programming, and found that she really enjoys the sort of thought-organizing and troubleshooting that goes with it. 

Ara claimed the nickname/codename Indigo in grade school, owing to her blue-black hair. (Her hair becomes more blue, and with lighter-blue highlights, after time in the sun.) As Indigo, she can absorb energy from other people within about one hundred yards of her, using sight to target them. She can use this effect to weaken her targets and put them to sleep, and if she's targeting a fellow anomaly she can also use their energy to power a number of psychic abilities.

Student: Iris

Name: Sebastian Warren Jenkins (goes by Warren)
Nickname: Iris
Age: 15
Appearance: 5'9" with curly, light-brown hair (think Jew-fro) and a narrow face with a high forehead.
Notable Skills: Gardening, raising rabbits, crafts, protest safety, sabotage
Quirks: tries to bond by talking about social justice issues, doesn't really know how to relax, doesn't want to hurt anybody (ever), clumsy (grown a lot in the past two years), loves to dance but doesn't know how

Warren is the son of Jinx, and is in his first year at Saint Vincent's; he's still figuring out how to have a social life with his dad being part of the faculty. His mother is a well-known pro-Anomaly activist who goes by the name of Sunset and is currently wanted for questioning by the FBI; she sent him to live with his father while she "sorts things out" and they remain on good terms. 

While he can be a bit socially awkward -- he tends to rant about social justice and political topics given the slightest opening -- Warren has made some friends and is getting better about recognizing social expectations outside of his mother's circle. His understanding of politics is still somewhat crude and very black-and-white. He is currently dating Indigo -- also the child of a faculty member -- and is trying very hard not to fuck that up. 

His codename Iris comes primarily from the fact that his eyes change colors with his moods; but when his eyes go black, he is also capable of hypnotizing anyone who meets his gaze, and sucking thoughts and memories out of their minds. This is a horrifying experience for everyone involved, and can result in genuine mental damage to his victims (lost memories, alterations in personality, inability to concentrate, nervous tics, etc.) so Warren has been extremely cautious about practicing with it and learning to control it.

Oomph

Okay, interesting week. Much as I've enjoyed filling the blog with characters for the last month or so, I'd like to go back to posting personal thoughts or little bits of fiction. And since it's my blog, I get to do that. 

Not today, though. One disadvantage of doing this whole Self Care thing is that I'm actually going to bed at more sensible hours and making sure I get a solid seven or eight hours of sleep. (Last night's dreams? Secondborn and I had ducked into this weird, maze-like theme park in search of a restroom. There restrooms were on a car on a roller coaster. Like, you sat down, pulled a privacy cover over so only your head was showing, and did your business while the whole thing went through its course. Which, in the waking world, seems like the worst idea ever, but when you're desperate enough you'll try anything.) 

(I've dreamed of that place before, too.)

So anyway, getting a full night's sleep cuts into my Write At Night time, plus we had a few evening activities this week that further reduced my available time and energy, plus our ERP (financial business) system at work has been acting up since late last Friday. 

It's been a busy week. 

We might have the software issue sorted out; I'll find out today. 

Wishing you all a lovely day and plenty of rest.

Public Figure: Adam McGrath

Name: Adam Edwin McGrath
Codename: N/A
Age: 46
Appearance: Tall, muscular, neatly-dressed man salt-and-pepper hair, clean shaven; 6'2"
Job: Genetics Researcher for The McGrath Institute and advocate for human-Anomaly unity

Adam McGrath is one of the top researchers into Anomalous biology and an outspoken advocate for peace and unity between Anomalies and regular human beings. Despite periodic accusations and tabloid articles, he appears to be an ordinary human himself, albeit one of considerable intellect and education, and as such is a highly controversial figure in certain quarters. 

In addition to its research, the McGrath Institute operates a small hospital for Anomalies whose changes have created medical issues for them; the facilities there include purpose-built chambers for Anomalies who can no longer breathe air, or whose presence is inherently dangerous to other people. The Institute is sustained by an anonymous endowment supplemented with a mix of public donations and federal funding, and its scientists are thus much more at liberty to publish their findings without fear of financial reprisals than those of some other organizations.

Student: Star

Name: Jacques Alain Darrieux
Codename: Star
Age: 18
Appearance: White hair, white skin, pink eyes (albino) 5'11, rangy build.
Notable Skills: Hiking, wilderness survival, naturalist, hydrology and forestry, driving, computers
Quirks: wears very thick glasses; loves board games, card games, and TTRPGs; dislikes exercise; loves swimming and diving; wants a pet cat

Jacques is a student with a goal: he wants to get a position guiding big corporations towards renewable, sustainable practices and conservation of natural resources. He is a determined student and consummate outsdoorsman, with a strong love of nature which he is happy to share with anybody who's interested. He is not opposed to hunting, fishing, logging, and other use of natural resources, but would like to see it done responsibly and has participated in a half-dozen protests to this end. 

His power as an Anomaly is relatively simple: he burns. At low levels, he simply gives off visible light and/or heat -- he can emphasize one or the other, but can't produce either one without a bit of the other. At higher levels of power his aura becomes blinding and searing hot, producing an incredibly destructive ball of plasma around him. Current testing suggests that if he pushes his power too far it could result in a nuclear blast capable of leveling a city (and killing him in the process). At present Star has no way to target or direct his power, so he generally limits himself to minor effects like providing light or warming up cold rooms.

Faculty: Anacrusis

Name: Lauren Ann Hilcourt
Codename: Anacrusis
Age: 28
Appearance: 5'2" with curly red hair, pale skin, freckles, blue eyes
Job: teaches music and art and assists with dance

Ms. Hilcourt isn't an anomaly at all, but one of her first classes at the school decided that she needed a codename anyway (since all the other teachers had one), and after some brainstorming they came up with Anacrusis. She is very committed to seeing her students grow and thrive, and firm in her conviction that art and music are necessary parts of that. In addition to her classes, she does individual tutoring and helps Ms. Campbell with the introductory dance classes.

Villain: Bloodhound

Name: Janelle Aida Wilson
Alias: Bloodhound
Age: 17
Appearance: 5'7", bald, dark skinned, muscular. She favors long coats and loose pants, with either boots or sandals, and wears gloves to hide her claws.
Job: Anomaly-hunter for the CIA's DAAT program

Bloodhound is an Alpha Hound employed by the DAAT program, meaning that she is one of the few hounds considered trustworthy enough to operate without her handler present, or even lead a team of other hounds if the situation calls for it. Her handler operates under the callsign Hearne, and Bloodhound has no qualms about calling him in if she needs additional support, information, or resources. They stay in contact via a set of implanted communicators. 

As a hunter, Bloodhound's record is excellent; she is credited with successfully locating over two dozen targets. She hunts by scent; her sense of smell is discriminating enough that she can distinguish anomolous scents from those of ordinary humans -- though she does have the occasional false positive, from things like medical side-effects. Her initial powers included her sense of smell, enhanced physical endurance -- she can exert herself for hours without tiring or injuring herself -- and incredibly strong and sharp claws and teeth. Prior to being taken in by the program, she was constantly shredding her gums and the insides of her cheeks, as well as shoes, tools, furniture...

DAAT provided her with subdermal armor, a reinforced skeletal system, and a treatment to toughen the inside of her mouth so that her own teeth would no longer injure her. Later treatments increased her strength with artificial muscle mass. She is strong and fast and heals relatively quickly, but not inhumanly so.

Bloodhound entered the program at the same time as Gaunt, and the two of them were friends and rivals throughout their time in training. When Gaunt -- then called Greyhound -- broke out of the program, her reluctant admiration for him turned to full-blown rage; she would like nothing better than to capture him and return him to the program for rehabilitation. She has never quite forgiven herself for failing to report some of the things he told her before his escape, and if her rage contains any element of jealousy she refuses to admit it even to herself.

Student: Cloudburst

Name: Maria Daniela Ortez
Nickname: Cloudburst
Age: 17
Appearance: 5'2", straight black hair, medium-brown skin, round face and build, petite
Notable Skills: swimming, bicycling, electronics, music, sailing, skiing, surfing
Quirks: Loves K-pop and K-dramas, amateur singer, has no filter and says exactly what she's thinking, enjoys banter, very Catholic

Maria Ortez first discovered her powers when she saved her brother from drowning in a riptide -- but nearly electrocuted him in the process. Her parents were supportive, but once word got around her school the social situation became fraught; they started looking for alternatives, and the Saint Vincent School was happy to accept Maria into its ranks. She stays quiet in class, but earns straight As on her tests, papers, and projects. She has a number of casual friends at the school, but nobody with whom she's extremely close.

(Her mother is a programmer and her father is a graphic artist; she is their only child, and they dote on her and come to visit the school regularly.)

Maria has the power to control water and electricity. ("Don't ask me what the connection is; I don't know.") She can't create either one, but she can absorb and store them for later use, up to a point. ("Don't ask me where the water goes. I don't know that either.") Her control over electricity is limited, and she mostly uses it to shock people, fry electronics, or create equally simple effects. Her control over water is considerably more refined. Her favorite way of absorbing water is to stand outside during a rainstorm.

Villain: Bloodrose

Name: Shannon Mary McWilliams, but she never uses it anymore
Alias: Bloodrose
Age: 19
Appearance: 5'6", blonde hair, green eyes; demeanor varies from casual/tomboy (jeans, t-shirt, boots) off-duty to punk (leather jacket, spiked hair, face paint and/or mask) when pulling a job.
Job: None at present; supports herself via robbery and odd jobs (bodyguard, leg-breaker, arsonist) for known criminals

Shannon McWilliams' powers first manifested when she was twelve. Convinced that she had somehow fallen from grace and was in desperate need of correction and salvation, her deeply-evangelical parents had her sent off to a "halfway house" to try to cure her of her sins. As with many such programs, the environment there was extremely abusive on multiple levels, and when she finally escaped Shannon left behind her name, her faith, her morals, and any trust in other people... along with a number of corpses.

Bloodrose can summon spirit forms that manifest as demons that emerge from her mouth. The more effort she puts into their creation, the stronger they get. She has been known to summon up to six at a time, or to concentrate her efforts into a single, super-powerful manifestation. Bloodrose is scrupulous about keeping her bargains, and ruthless with anyone who breaks theirs. She will work with other people, but refuses to be put in charge of anyone else. She neither has nor wants personal relationships; if she has to deal with someone else, it's going to be strictly business.

Well, shit

I went to bed early last night so I wouldn't freak out waiting for the election results to come in (and, well, also because I was just freaking exhausted). I woke up this morning to the headline that Trump -- probably the least qualified candidate for public office in America -- has somehow managed to be reelected. 

And I'd say something like, "Oh God, another four years of this shit," but he's not coming in cold this time. He's got all the architects of Project 25 around him, all the Christian Nationalists and Fascist grifters with their plans to convert the country from an aspiring (if not always successful) pluralistic democracy to their own private country club/police state. They're going to do their absolute best to make sure that not only can they do all the horrible things they want and get away with it, but also that in four years we're not going to be able to vote them back out. Oh, it may still look like a democracy, and I've no doubt there will be elections; but those will mainly be for show, and all the legal and structural bulwarks designed to keep any one group from amassing too much power will be weakened, ignored, or simply removed. 

No, this four years is going to be a lot worse than the last. They're going to hit the ground running. And they're going to hit the country hard.

And I keep saying "they" because Trump is really just the tip of the iceberg. All he wants out of this is to be able to hurt anybody he wants to hurt without ever facing the possibility of being hurt himself. He doesn't have some grand vision for the country or some ultimate goal in mind; he just wants to confirm that he's special, that he's better, that he's above. Trump was never the cause of all this, for all that he pushed it along; he was the inevitable outcome of forty years of Republican policy and political planning, engineered mainly by the world's oligarch class and enabled by the institutions that they own. 

It's going to get ugly. Not for everybody all at once -- they'll go after the easy targets first -- but it's going to get ugly. Trump told us exactly what he was going to do, and now he's going to do it. Project 25 was right there, written almost entirely by people associated with his staff, and now they're going to follow through with it. 

It's also going to get weird. RFK jr. in charge of public health, planning to ban vaccines and Flouride in water? (Seriously, when was the last time you heard conspiracy theories about Flouride in the water? 1979? 1983?) News sources making editorial decisions based on the whims of their super-rich owners, or their investors' desire to stay on the government's good side? Elon Musk reorganizing the very government that basically keeps his companies in business? Ted Cruz somehow still in office? It's going to be surreal. 

Hang onto your hats folk, and start looking at mutual support networks. We're all going to need a lot of help to get through this, and the only people we have are each other.

And if you just can't escape despair? Be Eowyn, not Denethor.

Election Day

Yeah, it's election day. Secondborn has no school today -- ostensibly so that the eighteen-year-olds can vote, but I suspect actually because a fair number of schools are also polling places and the school district is worried about violence. And rightly so, given that no small part of the right wing is currently busy convincing itself that the election will have been stolen by Democrats -- unless their would-be dictator actually wins, of course -- and gleefully preparing for violence in response. 

I'm planning to keep my head down and only glance at social media sparingly. I don't think I'll be able to resist the urge entirely, but I also don't think we'll have a clear winner until at least tomorrow, and maybe not even by the end of the week. The folks responsible for running the election -- as opposed to the grifters and political operatives trying to manipulate it -- are going to want to have their facts line up as well as possible before making any pronouncements.

All in all, this is a good time to practice self-care: limit your doom-scrolling, make sure you're eating food and hydrating, get up and move around, do things -- non-political things -- to distract yourself. (Indiana Jones moves, for example, are famously apolitical.) I'd urge you to vote if you haven't already, but I doubt you need to hear it from me; if you're like the rest of us, every bit of media you consume has been inundated for weeks with the message that you need to get out there and vote. You know your conscience, and you're going to do what you think is best. Take good care of yourself while you do it.

Slowly Recovering

Woke up from a dream in which I was simultaneously helping Secondborn out with some perfectly ridiculous challenges (gathering treasure off a ledge while hanging by one hand from a metal beam above it, so I could use the other hand to pull a switch and let a small platform swing down for him to stand on) and helping him line up the elements of the video game in which those challenges were taking place. It was a weird contrast; the whole hanging-from-a-beam and leaping-across-ledges sequence was intensely first-person, while the meta- elements were much more abstract -- for example, each possible monster or opponent in the game was represented by a card from a standard deck of playing cards; you assembled a "full deck" by defeating everything the game had to offer. (I guess maybe the Jokers were optional random encounters? I don't know.) 

It struck me as I was sort of reviewing all this in my mind during the process of waking up that a lot of the physical challenges would have been... maybe not easy, but pretty matter-of-fact stuff in my youth. Nowadays, of course, hanging by one hand from a beam while doing something else with the other hand? I could manage it for a moment... maybe... at best. 

And it's not just because I've gotten older. I'm still unpacking a lot of this, but I'm increasingly of the opinion that a lot of it was because my former job just kind of... ground me down. Not obviously, and not even maliciously, but it just wore me down until all I really wanted to do was curl in on myself so I could stop being unhappy. Making some new local friends and being part of one the world's most epic D&D games helped pull me out of that, but changing jobs was what really did it. And frankly, for a long while there changing jobs didn't seem possible, because my job title ("web designer") wasn't actually something I did or could do, and what I could do and was doing was in no way reflected in my job title or official responsibilities (or my pay, but that's its own special three-page rant). 

It's weird not to feel trapped.

I mean, no it isn't, or it shouldn't be, but after nearly a decade of that bullshit it still feels weird. I don't trust it. I feel like I'm doing a much shittier job than my co-workers seem to think I'm doing, and I don't even know what a sensible metric would look like anymore. Being in what was, in retrospect, a pretty shitty job even if I was pretty good at it, well... it messed with my head. It messed with my health. Hell, it messed with my marriage and my parenting. It was a shitty situation and I'm glad to be out of it, and if you're sitting around on a Sunday night filled with a sense of dread about having to go to work in the morning, then I want you to stop telling yourself that your job is "really not that bad" and go find something you actually enjoy showing up for, or at least something that's enough of a change that you can approach it with some kind of equanimity. Because your job? It is that bad. It's bad enough that you dread going back to it.

I hit a point a couple of weeks ago where my whole system basically crashed. Like, I was sleeping fourteen hours a day -- I couldn't help it -- and my immune system just absolutely bottomed out, so every weird little occasionally-recurring health issue that I've acquired over the last decade or more all set in at once, and my ability to focus -- on anything -- was just gone. (That's part of why the last chunk of blog entries have been characters from Saint Vincent's School; not only do I need to have them prepared before I launch into a writing project, but I literally can't launch into the writing project itself yet. The energy and the focus just aren't there.) I'm coming back out of it, slowly, but it honestly felt like all the burnout I've developed over the last twelve years just hit me all at once.

...And then Daylight Savings Time came along again, but I digress. Honestly, my sleep schedule is weird enough right now that I'm not sure if my body will even notice that. 

My New Year's resolution -- which I'm setting for myself, right now, here at the beginning of November, because fuck arbitrary calendar dates for this shit -- is to get back to myself. I used to have a sense of humor; I'm slowly getting it back, but I want to be making more jokes, laughing more, saying stupid shit without being self-conscious about it. I used to be athletic; I'm not ever going to get back to my fifteen- or seventeen-year-old youth and fitness, but I'd like to slim down and at least feel sexy again. I'd like to be able to climb things without getting winded. I'd like to take up some kind of martial arts again, time permitting. One of the great gifts that the World's Most Epic D&D Campaign gave me was that it got me going on my writing again, and I'd like to keep moving forward with that. I don't have any interest in taking up running again, but I'd like for it to at least be an option. 

I'd like to be doing more than just getting through the day again, and I'm starting to believe that might be possible.

Faculty: Jinx

Name: David Anthony Jenkins
Codename: Jinx
Age: 43
Appearance: Tall, lean, gray-haired man, frequently unshaven or with a goatee
Job: teaches computers and technology, maintains the school's network and security, sponsors the photography club

Mr. Jenkins is a friendly, affable man with shoulder-length gray hair, frequently unshaven and sometimes sporting a goatee. He teaches computer science, programming, and related topics, and has a hobbyist's interest in photography. He's also the school's primary IT officer, assisted by Mr. Henderson for networking and security issues, and by a helpdesk team composed of interested students to handle basic troubleshooting and reporting. 

Jinx is honestly more of a nickname than a codename, as Mr. Jenkins is a more recent addition to the faculty and was never part of the original team (or any other teams, for that matter). He has the ability to adjust his eyesight out of the visible range and into either infrared or ultraviolet, a power which he has described as "niche" and "mostly useless". He is close friends with Ms. Salvatore and Wolfman Bob, and has a son (Iris) from a previous marriage.

Halloween!

Yeah, no, sorry: I've got nothing spooky cued up for today. Our house is suitably decorated and I'm ready with candy, monsters, and teeth to give away, but I'm just not quite into it this year. I'm honestly not too much into anything right now, even writing, except that I'm very much trying to get myself in order: diet, sleep schedule, exercise, new job, that sort of thing. Self-care, basic self-care, which we've all long known that I'm particularly bad at.

...And once I get home tonight, I'll make ready with the treats. 

Student: Harbinger [Team Kraken]

Name: Lyceus Antonius
Codename: Harbinger
Age: 17
Appearance: 6', curly black hair, olive skin, brown eyes
Notable Skills: wrestling, gymnastics, dance, knife-fighting, unarmed combat, poison, basic sorcery, politics & society, Latin
Quirks:enjoys sneaking around, very curious about his fellow students and the school, protective of his privacy, exercises to help himself relax, faintly Italian accent.

Lyceus is the latest arrival at the school, having been caught trying to break in and then accepted by the headmaster. He had come from Imperia in search of his sister (Charm) after making his own escape from their family. He is still finding his way around, both academically and socially, but he's already starting to make connections.

Following an unfortunate accident with another student, Lyceus was invited to try out for Team Kraken; he chose the name Harbinger because he liked the way it sounded. He seems to have two very different sets of powers; on the one hand, he has a number of physical advantages, and on the other he has a nearly-impenetrable mind shield that makes him inaccessible to telepathy and related mental powers.

Student: Snoop [Team Phoenix]

Name: Ryan Jacob Darling
Codename: Snoop
Age: 17
Appearance: 6'1", muscular, with shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes, olive skin.
Notable Skills: Football, track, hockey, firearms, bows, various crafts, camping, riding horses
Quirks:enjoys knitting, sports fan, loves pizza/burgers/hot dogs, owns a horse, loves camping/hunting/fishing

Ryan enjoys working out and is in many ways the quintessential jock, participating in a variety of sports and outdoor activities. He works to keep his grades up, but almost always has some sort of crafting project going -- anything from minor woodworking, to leatherwork, to sewing costumes for the school's theater. He knits when he's sitting still; he says it gives him something do with his hands. 

His role on Team Phoenix is primarily exploratory and investigative; his extra abilities aren't physical, and the limited amount of telekinesis that he possesses is only moderately useful for combat. However, his ability to see and listen to events at a distance has proven extremely useful -- and his ability to sense psychic residue and past events by touching items or people has been invaluable. He can also locate objects (generally or specifically) by focusing on them.

Student: Catapult [Team Dragon]

Name: Paula Ann Stone
Codename: Catapult
Age: 17
Appearance: Blue eyes, purple hair, light brown skin
Notable Skills: excellent judge of character, tactical thinking, soccer, rock climbing, hiking & orienteering
Quirks:goal-oriented, enjoys socializing over card and board games, competitive but also big on sportsmanship, people-watcher, wants to be an astronaut

Paula is what most teachers consider an ideal student: focused, disciplined, and goal-oriented, but self-aware enough to include room for rest and social activities in her schedule. She's willing to take risks, but only after she thinks them through carefully. She intends to become an astronaut (one way or another) and tries to keep herself in peak mental and physical condition; working with Team Dragon is just another part of that. She also harbors a secret romantic streak; she would love to experience an irresistible, all-consuming love. 

As Catapult, Paula uses her power to tranfer momentum at close range to perform powerful leaps and equally powerful impacts, hurl objects (including her teammate Wrecker) and perform other tricks. Using her powers requires tactical thinking and precise timing, but Paula enjoys the challenge. She is well aware that she has no special resistance to injury, and even a single mistake could maim or kill her; but she would argue that the same is true (if less dramatically so) on the soccer field as well.

Villain: Shine

Name: Daniel William Morrison
Alias: Shine
Age: 28
Appearance: 6'3", blond hair, blue eyes; tall, athletic, and ruggedly handsome, with a fashionable haircut and expensive clothes
Job: President of V3 Investment Group

Daniel Morrison is an up-and-coming venture capitalist, and not at all shy about using his abilities to ensure his success. He is very much invested in his lifestyle and image: flashy cars, expensive clothes, exclusive clubs, and high-end hobbies (including his dating life); he has recently gotten into racing yachts. Some people want to be loved; he just wants to be worshiped.

Though he comes from a relatively affluent background, his power -- and his ruthless willingness to use it -- is what has allowed him access to the lifestyle he wants and the money to afford it. Daniel is an influencer; when his power is active he seems larger-than-life: charismatic, magnetic, dominating, and authoritative. Anyone under his influence finds it hard to disagree with him, refuse him, or ignore him. This is more subtle than actual mind control, and consequently harder to spot; the only tell is that when he's using his power, he glows -- an effect that he usually explains away as an imaginary by-product of his charismatic way with people.

In addition, when given time with a specific target he can focus his power to mesmerize them, influence their decisions directly, and even alter their memories. His power can also be used in reverse, making himself unobtrusive and hard to keep track of, but he essentially never uses it that way.

Faculty: Glimmer

Name: Grace Reshelle Campbell
Codename: Glimmer
Age: 38
Appearance: dark brown skin, black hair in tight braids, brown eyes, 5'2", tends to wear a lot of beads and colored patterns.
Job: dance instructor, gymnastics coach, teaches health and biology, RN and licensed physical therapist

As Glimmer, Ms. Campbell was always more adjacent to the original team than a part of it. She is able to project herself in a sort of astral form, but in order to do so she must put herself into a trance that leaves her body helpless. In astral form she appears as a transparent, ghostly image of herself and has a number of powers: invisibility, telepathy, telekinesis, cryokinesis, intangibility. Her astral form is almost completely immune to physical and energy attacks, but can still be engaged psychically. However, the vulnerability of her physical body and the fact that she can't remain in a trance for more than a few hours at a time have kept her in a more behind-the-scenes role. 

As a teacher, Ms. Campbell trains students in dance and gymnastics, and teaches the health, biology, and life sciences classes. She also acts as the school nurse, and is licensed to help students with longer-term physical therapy when needed. (This doesn't come up very often, since several of the students are capable of using their powers for one sort of healing or another, but it does come up.) 

Ms. Campbell is a very organized, focused woman but also very physically affectionate with her friends. She is currently dating a slightly younger defense attorney who has no idea that she is anything other than an ordinary faculty member at a very exclusive private school. Her daughter from a previous marriage (Indigo) is currently enrolled in the school; Grace was very disappointed when she turned down a chance to join Team Phoenix, but also very careful not to let her daughter know that.

Student: Wrecker [Team Dragon]

Name: Cedric Johnson
Codename: Wrecker
Age: 17
Appearance: Cedric has tightly-curled black hair, dark brown skin, and soft brown eyes. He has a swimmer's trim musculature, and a tendency to overdress for anything he's doing.
Notable Skills: Boxing, Driving, Socializing, Thinking Through Possible Consequences, Drawing, Crafting, Gamemastering.
Quirks: enjoys theater but isn't good at acting, loves animals, absolute fanatic for Thai food, bad at romance/dating (thinks he's unattractive), finds going for a drive relaxing.

Cedric is a devoted but not exceptional student; his academics are all passing, but not exceptional. Where he really excels is in drawing other students into games -- anything from cards to boardgames to tabletop roleplaying, the weirder the better. He has aspirations to be a writer, and is considerably better at it than he believes even if most of his writing involves characters from his games. Other students like him because he's low-maintenance and always willing to help out.

As Wrecker, he works with Team Dragon as both a tank (using his super-strength and near-invulnerability) and a blaster, using his ability to punch people with his super-strength at distances of up to fifty feet. He is deeply annoyed by the fact that his power isn't more subtle, and doesn't seem to lend itself to clever tricks. He's hoping to improve that, though.

Student: Razzle [Team Phoenix]

Name: Debora "Debbie" Vasquez
Codename: Razzle
Age: 16
Appearance: Debbie has thick black hair, dark brown skin, and dark brown eyes; she is lithe and lean, and generally favors dark-colored clothes that match her coloration.
Notable Skills: speaks Spanish, German, and passable Chinese; History; Politics; knows how to drive; theater kid with an emphasis on singing, dance, and acting; good at making people smile and deescalating situations.
Quirks: reacts badly to jokes about her Mexican heritage, reads history books as a hobby, loves having an audience and plays to any she finds, would love to be rich and famous, is a bit of a glory-hound.

As a student, Debbie's twin hobbies of history and languages have already forced the faculty to step up their game. She's bad at math, and usually behind in the sciences. She adores having an audience, and loves to perform for her fellow students, but reacts badly when people respond negatively to her attention-seeking. 

As Razzle, however, she is a key part of Team Phoenix, providing both distractions by way of conjured lights and ranged attacks by way of lasers. She is well aware of her physical vulnerability, and wears armor designed to protect her from harm. She wants to be the public face of the team, but Jade has managed to keep her under control so far. Razzle is aware of this and feels like the rest of the team is holding her back, but for now she's willing to go with it because of the opportunities it provides. She plans to strike out on her own after graduation: find an agent, maybe get a reality TV show, go from there.

Student: Gaunt [Team Kraken]

Name: Omar al-Rikabi
Codename: Gaunt
Age: 17
Appearance: Omar has moderately curly black hair, brown skin with silvery undertones, and brown eyes with tawny flecks; he is tall and thin with broad shoulders and a narrow waist overlaid with a wiry musculature and barely any fat; his face is gaunt and he looks vaguely as if he is starving.
Notable Skills: Basketball, Track and Field, Soccer, moving silently, hand-to-hand combat with an emphasis on grappling and restraint, lockpicking, guns, escape artistry, and mechanical restraints
Quirks: Loves burgers and french fries, hates public speaking and also speaking in general, will absolutely lose his shit at any evidence of bullying, good with animals and younger children, periodically brooding and depressed.

Omar al-Rikabi was an American-born Muslim; his father was a doctor and his mother was a dentist. He was twelve when he discovered that not only could he whisper to people silently and hear their replies, some people glowed when he looked at them just right. His best friend's parents (who were, he learned, already wrestling with suspicions about their own child) called in law enforcement and CPS when they found out, and the ensuing drama was enough to draw the attention of an experimental CIA initiative called DAAT (Deviant Asset Ability Training) who leaned on his Iraqi-born parents until they finally gave in out of fear that the agency was going to kidnap their son outright and then ruin their lives anyway. Omar left behind his family, including parents, grandmother, and younger sister Zahra. 

DAAT taught him to use his abilities to track down and capture his fellow deviants, subjecting him to experimental treatments designed to increase his strength, stamina, and overall toughness, and also to keep him biddable and firmly under their control. After his escape exposed the existence of the program, Dragon Team managed to intercept him before his fellow "hounds" could track him down. 

As a student, Omar is haunted by the memories of his experiences and training. He fears that the hounds might find the school, or take his sister; he fears that the experiments he underwent may have altered him permanently, turning him into something inhuman and horrible. Despite this -- or perhaps in an effort to escape it -- he is a voracious reader and does well in his classes. Other students tend to perceive him as shy, but Omar wouldn't call himself that; it's just that he doesn't have a lot to say, so he keeps quiet. His decision to accept the invitation to join Team Kraken was based on a clear understanding that if he ever did have to take on the hounds or their masters in DAAT, he was going to need help.

Student: Charm [Team Dragon]

Name: Sophia Antonius
Codename: Charm
Age: 16
Appearance: Sophia has black hair and olive skin, tawny eyes, and an elegant, slender build; she is graceful and poised from years of dance and deportment training
Notable Skills: Negotiation, dance, knife fighting, poisons, politics, herpetology
Quirks: has trouble with modern technology, occasionally stumbles when speaking English, loves dancing, enjoys learning, scared of her parents

Team Dragon recently found themselves in the city of Imperia -- which claims to be the last remaining colony of Imperial Rome -- located on the edge of the Preserve -- a hidden area of Antarctica where the last remains of the dinosaurs still roam. Metahumans in Imperia are consider Demi (short for 'demigods') and their unexpected arrival caused conflicts with several local Demi as well as local political and religious authorities. Sophia first encountered them during their imprisonment, helped them break out, and departed with them. She claims that her actions were based on a combination of outrage at the injustice of their treatment and a desire to see the world where they were born. She is the newest member of Team Dragon, but has shown consistent good judgement and a keen understanding of political and social interactions; she evaluates and quickly adapts to new situations. 

As the daughter of the goddess of one of the local mystery cults, Sophia began learning sorcery as well as social graces almost as soon as she could walk. While she lacked her parents' innate powers, her own native ability was a sensitivity to certain kinds of energy, which she used to cultivate her own personal mystic energies and tap into stronger cosmic powers, allowing her to master a sorcerer's spellcasting abilities in the space of a few short years. She is also sensitive to extradimensional magics, but extremely wary of making contact with them. Her go-to spells include shields, armor, elemental blasts and blasts of force, and a handful defensive or utility measures such as teleportation, healing, and cleaning. While she can design and empower other sorts of magic, she generally does that in advance and stores the prepared spell in her amulet.

She remains terrified that her parents might come to reclaim her.

Faculty: Bridge

Name: Larry Martin Hendrickson
Codename: Bridge
Age: 32
Appearance: A short (5'4") wiry red-head, with pale skin, a hint of freckles, and blue eyes, generally wearing converse all-stars.
Job: Teaches Latin, Fencing, European Swordsmanship, Guitar, English, and Research Methodology; sends teams to their destinations and retrieves them afterwards.

Mr. Hendrickson is something of a polymath, and frequently assists in various roles (costuming, stagecraft, music) with the school's theater club. He is friendly, good-humored, and popular as a teacher or guest lecturer; troubled students frequently choose him to confide in. He also helps maintain the school's computer systems, acting as a backup to Mr. Jenkins. 

His role as Bridge is to transport students and faculty to various locations as needed, watch over them, and bring them back afterwards. His power is a unique blend of clairvoyance and teleportation which allows him to view (and with a bit of extra effort, listen in on) remote locations. If he focuses hard enough, he can connect his current location to the location he is viewing, allowing himself and/or anyone nearby to step from one frame of reference to the other. There are a handful of administrators in the CIA who tried to recruit him for espionage over a decade ago, but Mr. Hendrickson found the idea distasteful and removed himself.

Student: Spectre [Team Phoenix]

Name: Baati Meleak
Codename: Spectre
Age: 16
Appearance: 5'9" with dark skin and tightly-curled black hair shaved into a fashionable cut, medium build, and a dazzling smile
Notable Skills: first aid, rock climbing, hiking, camping, track & field, history and current events, logic puzzles; currently learning to drive and fight
Quirks: loves pizza, likes being in the water (swimming/baths), follows the rules but isn't a narc, speaks Oromo (Ethiopian), afraid of dogs

Baati is the kind of kid who likes to make other kids feel included. He's studious, courteous, well-behaved, and at his most comfortable when he's been given a job to do and the tools to do it. Originally from Ethiopia, he came to the United States at age seven when his parents took jobs at a tech firm in Boston. At first deep in culture shock, he made it a point to learn flawless English, and can switch between American, British, and Australian accents with near-perfect accuracy. He also made it a point to learn how to make friends, which frequently meant learning how to reach out to other kids who also didn't have any friends yet. 

Baati's powers manifested at age thirteen, causing him and his family considerable distress before they came to grips with what was actually going on. The FBI caught wind of it and passed word to the CIA, which offered to place Baati in a special program called DAAT (Deviant Asset Ability Training); his parents decided that he was too young, and refused. Shortly after that, Headmaster Saint-Vincent got in touch with them and after visiting the school they decided to enroll Baati there. As Spectre, Baati can step slightly outside of reality to become invisible and/or intangible; he can also communicate telepathically, but only through physical contact. (This still works when he's invisible and intangible, though, so he's quite capable of "haunting" anyone who lacks psychic defenses -- though he would find the idea completely appalling.)

Student: Nightmare [Team Phoenix]

Name: Sandra Lynn Livingston (possibly an alias)
Codename: Nightmare
Age: 16
Appearance: Any, but since joining the school she has gradually become more comfortable with presenting herself in what she thinks of as her "normal" form. 5'2", black hair, dark-ish brown skin with silvery undertones, brown eyes.
Notable Skills: Bluff, Acting, Sleight of Hand, Finding An Exit, Dealing With Emergencies
Quirks: blends her own teas, very slow to trust, moody/shy/violent, keeps a cache of supplies just in case, enjoys climbing trees (in any of her forms)

Nightmare was being hunted by the Halls County Sheriff's Office in Texas when Phoenix Team recruited her. Prior to that, she was responsible for a series of brutal deaths and injuries, starting in her home and then tracking through a series of foster homes -- always in response to abuse, neglect, or other mistreatment (not always of herself). Headmaster Saint-Vincent and the other faculty have been working closely with her to help her develop better social relations and coping methods, with mixed results; she still tends to turn into a beast and stalk away into the forest at the back of the mansion when she gets frustrated. 

Nightmare is powerful and subtle shapeshifter, able to assume animal forms, mimic individuals, and assume a "nightmare form" that seems to be an expression of her rage. In her nightmare form she is nine feet tall, mostly humanoid but with pitch-black skin and blood-red eyes, covered in spikes, and equipped with wings, a prehensile tail tipped with a stinger capable of delivering various poisons, and clawed hands and feet that are also capable of delivering powerful bio-electric shocks. She is both stronger and tougher than ordinary flesh should be, and is capable of flying at roughly seventy miles per hour. She acts as Jade's second-in-command, but has not formally accepted the position; she just finds it encouraging that people listen to her in emergencies.

Headless

I could hear the sound of the hoofbeats behind me, louder than the gasping efforts of my own mount. I urged my horse to greater speed, but the poor beast simply didn't have it in him; he stumbled, and I threw myself from his back before he could collapse on me. It was a rough landing, but at least I didn't have to worry about the horse; the rider wouldn't care about him.

The bridge was close now, mere yards away, and I made a dash for it: a covered bridge, its interior darker than the night around us, but spanning the stream that marked the edge of the rider's domain.

They drew up at the last possible moment, his black horse skidding to a stop before rearing up and screaming, its hooves no more than an inch from the first of the wooden slats. The rider held his seat, seemingly without effort, saber balanced in one hand as he drew back the hand that held his decapitated head. Its eyes were blazing with a horrible orange fire as he hurled it at me.

Fortunately, I had retained my cane. A gentleman should never be so undignified as to lose track of his hat, his coat, or his cane; and my cane, when I snapped it out to the side, extended a silvered blade from the tip. I pivoted, bringing the blade up at an angle, and sliced that accursed skull in half.

The rider drew back as if struck, the shift in his weight enough to cause his horse to stagger as well. For a moment we just stood facing each other: myself unharmed and staring, and the horseman headless but turned as if to look at me.

"All right, motherfucker," I said. "Let's do this."

The Horseman raised his saber, but his mount was too close to the bridge to charge. My blade parted the beast's throat, and it dissolved into unnatural black mist before fading away entirely; the horseman landed neatly on his feet, already placing himself en garde.

That was when Geoffrey hit it from behind, with a glass bulb of oil followed almost immediately by a lucifer to set it alight. The horseman whirled around, only to get generous coating of thrown salt; that was when I ran him through with my silvered blade.

Silver and salt, oil and fire. He was an old spirit, a strong one, but he couldn't stand against that. He writhed, cutting and flailing, but his time of reclaiming heads from the living was over.

And this, my eager pupils, is why we always hunt in pairs.