[[ This story sort of begins here.
But it really begins here. ]]
FLYING BLIND
The sounds of metal against metal and the beep of a machine. The buzz of her MediBadge announcing her arrival into the Phoenix Medical Center of Talos Island. Why was she here? The world was upside down and Amy tried desperately to breathe. The fast air echoed harsh in her ears, nearly drowning out the panicked words of doctors and nurses as they clamored to triage the injured and dying. The ache in her chest was nearly unbearable, her heart still feeling as though vibrations rattled through it with each frantic beat. The torn fabric of her coat no longer hid the twisted grey flesh of her right arm, now hard to mistake for anything but the Rikti limb it had become.
Grabbing a hold of the metal rail Amy choked and slid to the floor, her feet no longer able to hold her, a sob thrust out from her chest.
“Mimi…..how could you…I….” She choked again, “I didn’t know…..”
A hand grabbed her, hauling her onto a nearby gurney. A deceptively calm voice hovered near her head.
“It’s going to be ok, hon. Just relax, you’re safe now.”
…..safe…..no one was safe….Rikti everywhere….
Amy screamed, launching herself off the side of the cot and slapping painfully, palms and cheek first, into the linoleum floor. There was no time…she had to get back to school. Rikti everywhere….How could she not have known….
Within moments, Amy burst through the front doors of the bustling hospital. She wanted to run, but the world in her head still careened from side to side as her ears tried to heal from the sonic onslaught. Desperately, she fumbled for the communicator in her pocket.
“Hello?” She could barely hold back the sobs, “Anyone?”
“AMY!” It was Joni’s voice, oh thank God it was Joni’s voice.
Something was wrong, she could barely think. Joni was asking her about the quad door, people were talking, the ringing in her ears grew worse. She was babbling something about the Quad, but she could barely remember her own words from moment to moment.
“Bailey!” She yelled.
“Bailey’s ok, Amy,” Joni again. “He’s in the Quad. Amy, who did this?”
Then, her heart froze. In those voices on the comm was Mimi’s voice.
She struggled to hear them all. People were yelling, students were scared and it seemed that the chaos in her head also reigned in the world. She heard those words again, “Traitor”, “Rikti Spy”, her world was coming apart and she couldn’t grab onto it fast enough.
“I’m not!” Amy knew she screamed it over and over again. “I didn’t know!” The comm exploded with more voices. Some stood against her, some were unsure. Only Joni’s voice rang out clear in her defense. Amy grappled with the dark shifting world she was trapped in. She thought she was going to be sick, her stomach taking an unpleasant somersault. Over and over again….”I didn’t know.”
What was going on!? What had happened!? Where was she!? Then it came, and it took all the voices away. The panic in her mind snapping into focus on one, terrible, moment.
Amy’s heart stopped dead in her chest. The voices on the comm faded away. “Traitor” “Spy” echoed in her mind.
The death wail of the alert siren screamed into the air of Talos Island. Shouts echoed up from the street with the smell of ozone and melting tar pavement. Footsteps rushed past her, children crying and noise flooding her already overwhelmed senses. This was beyond the sight of God. This was hell.
She shook. The deep vibrations of something large came over her head. A vibration so low, she could feel her skull reverberate. The very air around her, shaking in fear.
“JONI!” She screamed into the comm, tears streaming down her face, her breath frozen in panic. “JONI, WHAT IS THAT!!!” She couldn’t stop crying. Her voice shook with painful sobs.
Mimi’s voice rang out on the comm, cold and uncaring. “Phone home, ET.”
Amy could barely force more words past her chapped and tear-filled lips. Desperation. She wiped her face with her hand, clinging to her comm.
She heard Joni’s voice for a moment. “Run, Amy! Run!”
“JONI! PLEASE! Oh God, SOMEONE!!!”
Joni must have screamed too, but Amy couldn’t hear her anymore. The siren wailed again, sending loud waves of sound through Amy’s already damaged ears.
“PLEASE!”
She heard a pop, then a hissing, tearing noise behind her…and then….them.
Voices; cold, angry voices. Rikti.
“JONI!!!! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” She crashed into something hard and metal that stunk of rotten meat and grease.
The voice in her head was clear. Calm. Almost compassionate. “Missing soldier: found. Condition: wounded. Attack on sector: delayed.”
But before she could move, before terror would allow her any sanity, a thick fleshy hand grabbed onto her shoulder, nails sinking into the leather of her coat. She should have screamed, should have lashed out at the armored creature. The comm in her hand still echoing voices unacknowledging of the unending horror that was sweeping Amy’s mind.
“p-p-please…..” a coarse, tear-soaked whisper.
“Apprehension: unnecessary.” The armored Rikti soldier lifted her to her feet. “Recovery: progressing,” he said, and shoved her through the portal. As the air around her grew colder, she heard his thoughts a final time. “Attack on sector: resuming.”
The comm slipped from her hand and Amy’s world went silent.
Flying Blind
Moderator: Student Council
Flying Blind
Last edited by Violin on Sat Dec 06, 2008 10:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
A soft beep ticked away the hours as Amy drifted in and out of consciousness. Somewhere near her left ear a strange whirring sound came and went. Sometimes that sound would hover over her head, accompanied by strange words. Other times it would sway back and forth over her arms; a light tingle following.
The hard surface at her back was ridged and warm: it didn’t feel like metal. It conformed to her body and she almost thought she could feel it move. She could hear someone moving in the room, their shuffling footsteps echoing off of the nearby walls. But staying awake was so hard….so tired….the world slipped away again into nothing.
Amy woke with a start. There was a sudden flash of painful light, filling her mind, and before she knew it, a choked gasp forced its way past her lips and her hands flew to her face. The strange surface shifted weirdly beneath her sudden movements.
‘Breathe,’ she told herself, ‘Just breathe.’
Hands clutched to her head, the pain slowly began to subside. As awareness began to take hold once again, Amy took mental note of her body; feeling first her toes, then legs, and finally all through her torso and arms. For a moment, everything seemed normal. She half expected to hear the school nurse come clucking into the room telling her she had run into a wall again. Half expected only because the memories of the hospital, of Mimi, and of that horrid, vibrating noise, were too vivid to have been a dream.
She listened.
The room was quiet except for the constant mechanical beep that had been keeping her company for what felt like days. Slowly, a little stiffly, her left arm slid from her face and began to feel the sides of the table. The whirring near her head started up again.
With a grimace, Amy forced herself to sit up, the table dipping threateningly. Her eyes hurt. She leaned forward rubbing both hands over her face, trying her best to clear the throbbing ache. With a heavy sigh, she dropped her hands to her lap and prepared to feel her way to a wall, hopefully avoiding whatever objects she might crash into on the way. She had to figure out where she was, what that sound had been. Everything seemed so fuzzy, her memory spotty.
Testing the floor with one toe, she slowly eased her way off the table and reached a tentative hand out in front of her. She willed herself not to cry, not to shake so hard. She had to find a way out.
Without warning, another flash of light tore through her brain and Amy bit into her lip to avoid crying out. Her hand flew to her face again and desperately rubbed at her eyes and cheeks. Blood seeped from the teeth marks in her lip, she could taste the dull copper flavor in her mouth. Steadying her balance on the edge of the oddly shaped table, Amy pulled her hand away again, but this time she was given pause.
Her breath caught in her chest as she forced her weak eyelids open, shielding her face with her hand.
Her hand. Tiny lines and grooves marred the pink flesh. Nails, uneven and untrimmed. Five fingers gently flexing to block out the light.
She could see.
The hard surface at her back was ridged and warm: it didn’t feel like metal. It conformed to her body and she almost thought she could feel it move. She could hear someone moving in the room, their shuffling footsteps echoing off of the nearby walls. But staying awake was so hard….so tired….the world slipped away again into nothing.
Amy woke with a start. There was a sudden flash of painful light, filling her mind, and before she knew it, a choked gasp forced its way past her lips and her hands flew to her face. The strange surface shifted weirdly beneath her sudden movements.
‘Breathe,’ she told herself, ‘Just breathe.’
Hands clutched to her head, the pain slowly began to subside. As awareness began to take hold once again, Amy took mental note of her body; feeling first her toes, then legs, and finally all through her torso and arms. For a moment, everything seemed normal. She half expected to hear the school nurse come clucking into the room telling her she had run into a wall again. Half expected only because the memories of the hospital, of Mimi, and of that horrid, vibrating noise, were too vivid to have been a dream.
She listened.
The room was quiet except for the constant mechanical beep that had been keeping her company for what felt like days. Slowly, a little stiffly, her left arm slid from her face and began to feel the sides of the table. The whirring near her head started up again.
With a grimace, Amy forced herself to sit up, the table dipping threateningly. Her eyes hurt. She leaned forward rubbing both hands over her face, trying her best to clear the throbbing ache. With a heavy sigh, she dropped her hands to her lap and prepared to feel her way to a wall, hopefully avoiding whatever objects she might crash into on the way. She had to figure out where she was, what that sound had been. Everything seemed so fuzzy, her memory spotty.
Testing the floor with one toe, she slowly eased her way off the table and reached a tentative hand out in front of her. She willed herself not to cry, not to shake so hard. She had to find a way out.
Without warning, another flash of light tore through her brain and Amy bit into her lip to avoid crying out. Her hand flew to her face again and desperately rubbed at her eyes and cheeks. Blood seeped from the teeth marks in her lip, she could taste the dull copper flavor in her mouth. Steadying her balance on the edge of the oddly shaped table, Amy pulled her hand away again, but this time she was given pause.
Her breath caught in her chest as she forced her weak eyelids open, shielding her face with her hand.
Her hand. Tiny lines and grooves marred the pink flesh. Nails, uneven and untrimmed. Five fingers gently flexing to block out the light.
She could see.
Colors shifted back and forth as the room slowly came into focus. Amy swallowed hard, one hand still hovering near her face protectively. Her jaw hung slack as her eyes took in the room, the first thing she had seen in almost five years.
She felt dizzy, her depth perception off.
It had to be some kind of medical bay. Small trays of strangely shaped glass and metal tubes topped with needles and wires sat at intervals next to the rows of tables. Flickering lights and small flashes of color drifted past on three screens set up near what looked like a trapezoid shaped podium. Everything was strangely shaped; even the walls of the room itself did not meet at right angles. It was like standing in a house that had shifted on its foundation and then had a few walls added for no particular reason. The whole entity had a sickly greenish brown tint to it. Shades of blue and green occasionally dotted an object or machine, but otherwise, the low lights did not afford much in the way color.
It almost felt like she was seeing too many angles at once, too many new things came into her vision as she turned her head. Having not been able to see for so long had her mind confused with the new stimulus.
With a shudder, she looked down at her arms. The grayish pink flesh she had come to know intimately through touch now glared up at her. She never imagined it had looked that bad. Thick, knotted, ropes of muscle and tissue now defined her forearms, her hands were elongated, and her fingers now ended in sharp, fleshy points. Both of her elbows flexed at ghastly angles, aided by what appeared to be a second joint that extended past her arm.
She paused. There had never been a problem with her other arm…only the one.
She looked around the trays for a metal surface reflective enough before finally catching a glimpse of a free-floating monitor near the back of the room that seemed to be displaying an image of the medical bay. Pushing a small table of brightly colored tubes aside, she carefully made her way across the room to the monitor, feet swaying and sweat beginning to bead on her forehead.
It took a second to figure out what angle she needed to be standing at to appear in the monitor but when she did, the world was drowned in a scream.
She felt dizzy, her depth perception off.
It had to be some kind of medical bay. Small trays of strangely shaped glass and metal tubes topped with needles and wires sat at intervals next to the rows of tables. Flickering lights and small flashes of color drifted past on three screens set up near what looked like a trapezoid shaped podium. Everything was strangely shaped; even the walls of the room itself did not meet at right angles. It was like standing in a house that had shifted on its foundation and then had a few walls added for no particular reason. The whole entity had a sickly greenish brown tint to it. Shades of blue and green occasionally dotted an object or machine, but otherwise, the low lights did not afford much in the way color.
It almost felt like she was seeing too many angles at once, too many new things came into her vision as she turned her head. Having not been able to see for so long had her mind confused with the new stimulus.
With a shudder, she looked down at her arms. The grayish pink flesh she had come to know intimately through touch now glared up at her. She never imagined it had looked that bad. Thick, knotted, ropes of muscle and tissue now defined her forearms, her hands were elongated, and her fingers now ended in sharp, fleshy points. Both of her elbows flexed at ghastly angles, aided by what appeared to be a second joint that extended past her arm.
She paused. There had never been a problem with her other arm…only the one.
She looked around the trays for a metal surface reflective enough before finally catching a glimpse of a free-floating monitor near the back of the room that seemed to be displaying an image of the medical bay. Pushing a small table of brightly colored tubes aside, she carefully made her way across the room to the monitor, feet swaying and sweat beginning to bead on her forehead.
It took a second to figure out what angle she needed to be standing at to appear in the monitor but when she did, the world was drowned in a scream.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, curled in the corner.
Her eyes darted from one alien object to the next, still trying to take in the sight of everything surrounding her. She had begun to realize, a short time ago, that the odd angles and strange perspective were because of the new eyes. Three on each side, spaced slightly apart, they took in more than her mind, too long blind, could put together.
Finally, she shakily got to her feet. Regardless of the nightmare that glared back at her from all sides, she couldn’t stay here. There was a door on the far side of the room. Little more than an off-color indentation in the wall, she knew that it led out into a walk-way of some sort. Heavy footsteps occasionally thudded past followed by the hollow echo of a long, narrow, space. She knew she was on a ship, but she wasn’t sure what kind or where.
She reached the door and put out her hands to feel the warm, pulsing, metal while she made a cursory search for a button or release. Frustrated, she pushed against the hard surface. It suddenly gave way.
With a shriek, Amy was dumped into the hallway. She didn’t even have enough time to gather her wits before she was slammed against the floor. Not by a Rikti boot, but by the sudden, ceaseless, flow of voices that invaded her mind. From everywhere in the ship she could hear them. Short, terse, sentences back and forth, like standing in a crowded room dozens of conversations filled her head.
Her hands once again went to her temples. The noise was over-powering.
“Uggghhh….” She sobbed, “Oh god, make it stop…please…”
She reached up and felt for the doorway to the med bay again. Her mind begged for silence.
She had almost felt its contours when a hand lifted her to her feet, the sharp intonation in her head immediately drowning out all other voices.
“Soldier: March on. Attack on sector commencing.”
That’s when it hit her. Portals. The Rikti must have come through portals just like the ones in Venice.
She could get home. She could get back. All she had to do…was hijack a portal.
She was shoved forward and surrounded by a battalion of Rikti soldiers and gunners as they marched in-step down the mirror-like hall. Although Amy had always had an image in her mind as to what the Rikti looked like, she had never actually seen a Rikti before, and she immediately wished she hadn’t.
But she was looking more and more like them as each hour passed and she had to do something, and do something quick. Time seemed to be running out and her heart pounded with an urgency she couldn’t explain. How long until she looked just like that?
Stumbling behind the soldier who had picked her up she tried to fall instep but the strides were wide and hard to keep up with.
As she wiped the accumulating perspiration from her forehead she heard a voice in her head, coming from somewhere behind her. It was softened, almost comforting as she felt a hand tentatively touch her shoulder.
“Fear: no need. All over very soon. Heroes: We are then! Wait: Celebrate with all”
Heroes….
She trembled as she picked up the pace.
Heroes…
Her eyes darted from one alien object to the next, still trying to take in the sight of everything surrounding her. She had begun to realize, a short time ago, that the odd angles and strange perspective were because of the new eyes. Three on each side, spaced slightly apart, they took in more than her mind, too long blind, could put together.
Finally, she shakily got to her feet. Regardless of the nightmare that glared back at her from all sides, she couldn’t stay here. There was a door on the far side of the room. Little more than an off-color indentation in the wall, she knew that it led out into a walk-way of some sort. Heavy footsteps occasionally thudded past followed by the hollow echo of a long, narrow, space. She knew she was on a ship, but she wasn’t sure what kind or where.
She reached the door and put out her hands to feel the warm, pulsing, metal while she made a cursory search for a button or release. Frustrated, she pushed against the hard surface. It suddenly gave way.
With a shriek, Amy was dumped into the hallway. She didn’t even have enough time to gather her wits before she was slammed against the floor. Not by a Rikti boot, but by the sudden, ceaseless, flow of voices that invaded her mind. From everywhere in the ship she could hear them. Short, terse, sentences back and forth, like standing in a crowded room dozens of conversations filled her head.
Her hands once again went to her temples. The noise was over-powering.
“Uggghhh….” She sobbed, “Oh god, make it stop…please…”
She reached up and felt for the doorway to the med bay again. Her mind begged for silence.
She had almost felt its contours when a hand lifted her to her feet, the sharp intonation in her head immediately drowning out all other voices.
“Soldier: March on. Attack on sector commencing.”
That’s when it hit her. Portals. The Rikti must have come through portals just like the ones in Venice.
She could get home. She could get back. All she had to do…was hijack a portal.
She was shoved forward and surrounded by a battalion of Rikti soldiers and gunners as they marched in-step down the mirror-like hall. Although Amy had always had an image in her mind as to what the Rikti looked like, she had never actually seen a Rikti before, and she immediately wished she hadn’t.
But she was looking more and more like them as each hour passed and she had to do something, and do something quick. Time seemed to be running out and her heart pounded with an urgency she couldn’t explain. How long until she looked just like that?
Stumbling behind the soldier who had picked her up she tried to fall instep but the strides were wide and hard to keep up with.
As she wiped the accumulating perspiration from her forehead she heard a voice in her head, coming from somewhere behind her. It was softened, almost comforting as she felt a hand tentatively touch her shoulder.
“Fear: no need. All over very soon. Heroes: We are then! Wait: Celebrate with all”
Heroes….
She trembled as she picked up the pace.
Heroes…
The hallway took a sharp turn, ending in a large and asymmetrical room. Arcs of energy skittered across the ceiling at random but unrelenting intervals. The entire space has the feeling of being trapped inside a static lightning ball. On the far side, several short terminals, their concave screens suspended in mid-air, flickered on and off. On the near side…weapons. Pulse rifles and shatter-bombs lined the wall but were soon snatched from their places by the Rikti squad. Their chatter filled her head as they prepared for what only could be…
“Commencing : Sector Invasion. Strike Unit One to engage outer region. To Transport Matrix: All Units.”
The announcement echoed, not through the halls, but through the minds of all the beings aboard the ship. Amy shivered. Her hands had become cold and clammy and she could feel a drip of moisture starting down her lower back. She looked around, trying to not get dizzy again.
The screens didn’t make sense, nothing looked familiar enough to use. The Rikti calmly began taking their places in two lines near a flat, bare, wall. Amy had to think fast, but what should she do?
“Take,” said the voice in her head.
She whirled around to see the same soldier she had heard talking to her in the hallway. In its outstretched hand she saw a small, metal, object.
The Rikti tilted its head, staring down at her with a sightless face. “Your first strike: is it? Here. For luck: take this. No Fear. Home: a reminder.”
She looked down at the soldier’s hand as it reached out and overturned the object into her palm. It was smooth and vaguely oval shaped, almost like a make-up compact. For a second, as the soldier turned away to take up arms, she rolled the strange item in her hand.
There was a tiny, flip latch on the edge of it and with hesitation; Amy slowly opened the two halves of the object.
A round screen, embedded in the right half, glittered to life. As she watched, frozen on her own feet, a small image appeared. In the confines of the metal compact was a clear, bright picture of a tall Rikti cradling a squirming infant. A human infant.
Her hand began to shake as her jaw dropped in a soundless O. The infant bore some characteristics of the Rikti; webbed hands, slightly elongated legs, but the face….the red, squalling, face….was entirely human.
A sharp order snapped Amy out of her stupor. The Rikti shifted excitedly and the chatter in the room became even louder. She saw the soldier who had given her the gift to her right as it stepped up into the line. She could little more than stare up at the armored alien. It looked back down at her and with a calming gesture, nodded toward her.
Amy grabber her ears as a hideous sound filled the room. Vibrations from the low, pulsing, tone shook the walls, several Rikti seemed to sway on their feet. The bare wall before her suddenly crackled to life, a purple and green portal swirling into existence between two large pylons.
Time to go.
“Commencing : Sector Invasion. Strike Unit One to engage outer region. To Transport Matrix: All Units.”
The announcement echoed, not through the halls, but through the minds of all the beings aboard the ship. Amy shivered. Her hands had become cold and clammy and she could feel a drip of moisture starting down her lower back. She looked around, trying to not get dizzy again.
The screens didn’t make sense, nothing looked familiar enough to use. The Rikti calmly began taking their places in two lines near a flat, bare, wall. Amy had to think fast, but what should she do?
“Take,” said the voice in her head.
She whirled around to see the same soldier she had heard talking to her in the hallway. In its outstretched hand she saw a small, metal, object.
The Rikti tilted its head, staring down at her with a sightless face. “Your first strike: is it? Here. For luck: take this. No Fear. Home: a reminder.”
She looked down at the soldier’s hand as it reached out and overturned the object into her palm. It was smooth and vaguely oval shaped, almost like a make-up compact. For a second, as the soldier turned away to take up arms, she rolled the strange item in her hand.
There was a tiny, flip latch on the edge of it and with hesitation; Amy slowly opened the two halves of the object.
A round screen, embedded in the right half, glittered to life. As she watched, frozen on her own feet, a small image appeared. In the confines of the metal compact was a clear, bright picture of a tall Rikti cradling a squirming infant. A human infant.
Her hand began to shake as her jaw dropped in a soundless O. The infant bore some characteristics of the Rikti; webbed hands, slightly elongated legs, but the face….the red, squalling, face….was entirely human.
A sharp order snapped Amy out of her stupor. The Rikti shifted excitedly and the chatter in the room became even louder. She saw the soldier who had given her the gift to her right as it stepped up into the line. She could little more than stare up at the armored alien. It looked back down at her and with a calming gesture, nodded toward her.
Amy grabber her ears as a hideous sound filled the room. Vibrations from the low, pulsing, tone shook the walls, several Rikti seemed to sway on their feet. The bare wall before her suddenly crackled to life, a purple and green portal swirling into existence between two large pylons.
Time to go.
Amy swallowed in a vain attempt to wet her throat. The Rikti troops waited, swaying slightly in the energy draft from the rapidly swirling portal. Three lines of ten soldiers stood ready as the armored Headman began to walk the formation.
“Tal’rek: Attention. Your squad: sweep left.” The voice in her head was harsh and loud, reverberating slightly, as though through the metal helmet the lieutenant wore.
The Headman turned to another soldier on his right. “Dal’kuk: Attention. Your squad: sweep right.”
Amy saw the head of the soldier nod in understanding. Then, he turned to the soldier behind her. The soldier that had given her the luck charm.
“Ro’ket: Attention. Take A’mi Dehvis: move center.”
‘Take A’mi Dehvis.’ her mind repeated. ‘A’mi Dehvis.’
Suddenly they were moving. She felt more like she was floating toward the portal rather than walking. Her heart in her throat, Amy did the only thing she could think of. She clamped her eyes shut.
The sensation was sickening. Amy felt suddenly weightless, her stomach drifting into her chest. Then she was plummeting straight down, feet first. If she screamed, she didn’t hear it. She could feel energy all around her body, buffeting her descent and pulling her downwards all at once. With a dizzying stop she felt her feet strike pavement. She stumbled, twirled around, snapping her eyes open and flailing her arms in an attempt at balance.
She hit a building wall, grasping onto the rough stone surface when her mind cleared. She’d made it…she was home…Earth.
Gulping back a choke, Amy desperately looked from side to side. Run. It was all she could think of…she had to run.
Too late. The squad that she had stood with on the ship was all around her. The sound of pulse rifles powering up filled her ears. Then, the screams began.
The first group swept left, the second squad moved right. Ro’ket, her soldier, was suddenly behind her again, his rifle leveled. Without a word, the soldier turned and fired into the civilian crowd. Amy screamed as she watched two people blown back into the wall, their blackened bodies limp as dolls. She could feel the tears as they streamed down her face. She had to escape…had to run.
Ro’ket fired again as Amy wrenched her eyes from the fleeing crowd, desperate for a break in the squad, anywhere she could run through. She must have reached out for him because unexpectedly, Ro’ket turned, his head tilting down and his rifle dropping to his side.
“A’mi Dehvis: What is wrong?”
She had no words, they seemed lost. Slowly she looked up the soldier, his concern evident in his slightly dipped posture. She stared back at him for a moment, pulse rifle blasts tearing into the pavement all around them.
Behind him, she saw a flash of blue and red first. Then she saw the white star and the yellow lightning bolt. The unmistakable uniform of a hero…coming straight at her.
Amy stumbled again, almost falling backwards into the street. Ro’ket saw the look in her eyes, but he reacted far too late. The energy blast hit him full in the back. The soldier lurched forward, the rifle falling to the ground as he half-turned and fell to his knees. He shivered, his precarious balance becoming unsteady.
Amy looked up as the first wave of heroes arrived, tearing into the Rikti squad with fervor and righteous anger. The blaster that had felled the soldier landed with a hard snap of boots on the pavement. She looked to the soldier, his body trembling as he tried again and again to rise. The world was out of control and Amy was desperate to grab a hold of something, anything that made sense.
The blaster, clad in blue and red, smiled triumphantly. The pulse rifle lay useless behind his feet. She saw the motion in his fingers, the tensing in his arms, as blue energy began to coalesce in his hands.
“Time to say, adios, alien!” His arms rose over the soldier’s head, fingers crackling with power.
“NO!!”
That couldn’t possibly have been her voice. It couldn’t possibly have been her that leapt in front of the soldier. It couldn’t possibly have been her that cocked back her fist and let it fly to the blaster’s face.
CRACK!
Her hand met the hero’s throat, sending the man backwards, tumbling head over heels to the sidewalk.
Suddenly, Amy couldn’t breathe. She stared at the motionless hero, she stared at her own hands, clenched tightly into fists. She stared down at Ro’ket.
“Saved me: You have. My gratitude: you have.”
“No.” She choked, shaking her head, “No…No no no no no…I can’t…I can’t do this…I..I…CAN’T DO THIS!!!” Her voice ended in a high pitched scream.
A second wave of heroes descended into the fray. Amy could see at least half a dozen of them right off the bat. More would come.
She swung around, the Headman Gunner fell at her feet with a crash, broken pieces of technology skittered across the street. The heroes had broken the line of the squad.
“A’mi!” Ro’ket’s voice in her head, but she couldn’t respond. All she could do…was run. More heroes were coming, more heroes would win this fight.
Ro’ket didn’t stand a chance.
“Tal’rek: Attention. Your squad: sweep left.” The voice in her head was harsh and loud, reverberating slightly, as though through the metal helmet the lieutenant wore.
The Headman turned to another soldier on his right. “Dal’kuk: Attention. Your squad: sweep right.”
Amy saw the head of the soldier nod in understanding. Then, he turned to the soldier behind her. The soldier that had given her the luck charm.
“Ro’ket: Attention. Take A’mi Dehvis: move center.”
‘Take A’mi Dehvis.’ her mind repeated. ‘A’mi Dehvis.’
Suddenly they were moving. She felt more like she was floating toward the portal rather than walking. Her heart in her throat, Amy did the only thing she could think of. She clamped her eyes shut.
The sensation was sickening. Amy felt suddenly weightless, her stomach drifting into her chest. Then she was plummeting straight down, feet first. If she screamed, she didn’t hear it. She could feel energy all around her body, buffeting her descent and pulling her downwards all at once. With a dizzying stop she felt her feet strike pavement. She stumbled, twirled around, snapping her eyes open and flailing her arms in an attempt at balance.
She hit a building wall, grasping onto the rough stone surface when her mind cleared. She’d made it…she was home…Earth.
Gulping back a choke, Amy desperately looked from side to side. Run. It was all she could think of…she had to run.
Too late. The squad that she had stood with on the ship was all around her. The sound of pulse rifles powering up filled her ears. Then, the screams began.
The first group swept left, the second squad moved right. Ro’ket, her soldier, was suddenly behind her again, his rifle leveled. Without a word, the soldier turned and fired into the civilian crowd. Amy screamed as she watched two people blown back into the wall, their blackened bodies limp as dolls. She could feel the tears as they streamed down her face. She had to escape…had to run.
Ro’ket fired again as Amy wrenched her eyes from the fleeing crowd, desperate for a break in the squad, anywhere she could run through. She must have reached out for him because unexpectedly, Ro’ket turned, his head tilting down and his rifle dropping to his side.
“A’mi Dehvis: What is wrong?”
She had no words, they seemed lost. Slowly she looked up the soldier, his concern evident in his slightly dipped posture. She stared back at him for a moment, pulse rifle blasts tearing into the pavement all around them.
Behind him, she saw a flash of blue and red first. Then she saw the white star and the yellow lightning bolt. The unmistakable uniform of a hero…coming straight at her.
Amy stumbled again, almost falling backwards into the street. Ro’ket saw the look in her eyes, but he reacted far too late. The energy blast hit him full in the back. The soldier lurched forward, the rifle falling to the ground as he half-turned and fell to his knees. He shivered, his precarious balance becoming unsteady.
Amy looked up as the first wave of heroes arrived, tearing into the Rikti squad with fervor and righteous anger. The blaster that had felled the soldier landed with a hard snap of boots on the pavement. She looked to the soldier, his body trembling as he tried again and again to rise. The world was out of control and Amy was desperate to grab a hold of something, anything that made sense.
The blaster, clad in blue and red, smiled triumphantly. The pulse rifle lay useless behind his feet. She saw the motion in his fingers, the tensing in his arms, as blue energy began to coalesce in his hands.
“Time to say, adios, alien!” His arms rose over the soldier’s head, fingers crackling with power.
“NO!!”
That couldn’t possibly have been her voice. It couldn’t possibly have been her that leapt in front of the soldier. It couldn’t possibly have been her that cocked back her fist and let it fly to the blaster’s face.
CRACK!
Her hand met the hero’s throat, sending the man backwards, tumbling head over heels to the sidewalk.
Suddenly, Amy couldn’t breathe. She stared at the motionless hero, she stared at her own hands, clenched tightly into fists. She stared down at Ro’ket.
“Saved me: You have. My gratitude: you have.”
“No.” She choked, shaking her head, “No…No no no no no…I can’t…I can’t do this…I..I…CAN’T DO THIS!!!” Her voice ended in a high pitched scream.
A second wave of heroes descended into the fray. Amy could see at least half a dozen of them right off the bat. More would come.
She swung around, the Headman Gunner fell at her feet with a crash, broken pieces of technology skittered across the street. The heroes had broken the line of the squad.
“A’mi!” Ro’ket’s voice in her head, but she couldn’t respond. All she could do…was run. More heroes were coming, more heroes would win this fight.
Ro’ket didn’t stand a chance.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting in the park. In that time the sky, once before green and yellow, now an empty blue. A part of her thought she should feel joy sitting among the picnic tables and breeze blown trees. She should have relished seeing the bright sun shimmer across the lake. But she didn’t.
She had been running back to school when it had occurred to her. At school, they would only be afraid, call her a spy. Then she had been running to GIFT but what could they do? Amy stared down at her hands. It was too late for the serum now…she was…changed.
For the first time in this desperate struggle Amy felt hopeless. She had fought so hard to escape but it had never occurred to her that she might not have anywhere to escape to. Maybe she should have stayed with the Rikti after all.
She thought of Ro’ket then. He would be dead by now but she almost wished him alive. In a way, he had been kind to her. Amy’s hand strayed to the small metal object in her pocket. She felt something in her pocket and it wasn’t Ro’ket’s gift. With some small effort, she pulled it from the tangled strings at the bottom of her pocket and held it up in front of her face.
Her comm.
Amy was certain she had lost it in the raid but there it was. A little battered and bruised, the communicator still bore the unmistakable SJS symbol etched into the side. She pondered the small device for a moment. Someone must have picked it up before following her through the portal. Again, she thought of Ro’ket.
With shaking fingers she flipped the small switch. A hiss followed by several sharp clicks and the comm. came to life. Suddenly, voices clamored across the school frequency. Once voice in particular froze her in her seat.
Joni.
Clammy hands raised the comm. to her ear. “Joni?”
A pause.
“Amy?”
Amy knew she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears.
“JONI!”
Tears anew began to fall.
She had been running back to school when it had occurred to her. At school, they would only be afraid, call her a spy. Then she had been running to GIFT but what could they do? Amy stared down at her hands. It was too late for the serum now…she was…changed.
For the first time in this desperate struggle Amy felt hopeless. She had fought so hard to escape but it had never occurred to her that she might not have anywhere to escape to. Maybe she should have stayed with the Rikti after all.
She thought of Ro’ket then. He would be dead by now but she almost wished him alive. In a way, he had been kind to her. Amy’s hand strayed to the small metal object in her pocket. She felt something in her pocket and it wasn’t Ro’ket’s gift. With some small effort, she pulled it from the tangled strings at the bottom of her pocket and held it up in front of her face.
Her comm.
Amy was certain she had lost it in the raid but there it was. A little battered and bruised, the communicator still bore the unmistakable SJS symbol etched into the side. She pondered the small device for a moment. Someone must have picked it up before following her through the portal. Again, she thought of Ro’ket.
With shaking fingers she flipped the small switch. A hiss followed by several sharp clicks and the comm. came to life. Suddenly, voices clamored across the school frequency. Once voice in particular froze her in her seat.
Joni.
Clammy hands raised the comm. to her ear. “Joni?”
A pause.
“Amy?”
Amy knew she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears.
“JONI!”
Tears anew began to fall.
“Amy! Where are you!”
The wretched girl clutched the battered comm. to her ear and tried to force the words out through the knot in her throat.
“Joni! It’s me! I’m…I’m in Skyway City.”
The comm. nearly burst with activity, voices tumbling over each other in a flood of sound.
“Who’s that?” “I dunno.” “Hey, it’s Amy.” “Omigod! Amy!” “What’s going on?” “Is that the girl Mimi blew up with her super sounds?” “She didn’t do that, moron.” “Yeah, I heard she exploded a girl!” “Shut up.” “What are we fighting about?” “Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up.” “Amy! Are you alright? What happened?” “We’re coming to Skyway, just stay put!” “No! You shut up!” “Hang on!”
So many voices. Joni’s voice was there but there were so many more.
That one there…that was Vesper….and that one…that was the new kid with the funny accent from math class.
She whirled around at the first sound of footsteps behind her.
A St. Joe’s uniform. Strange…it wasn’t how she had always pictured it but it assured her it was a classmate who had found her. Amy just couldn’t piece together who the girl who wore it was. Blue hair…well…blue-ish, anyway. White skin….she was crying…then…
“Amy! Oh, my god I can’t believe it’s you!”
Joni’s voice.
“What’s going on! Amy, they said someone…Mimi…smashed in your door! They said you’d been taken….by…Rikti…”
This was her best friend. Finally, she saw the face of her best friend and soon…the favor would be returned.
Suddenly, there were more uniforms and Amy saw them all for the first time. Reflexively, she tried to shield her face with her arm but it was doing little good. Familiar voices began to rise above the din of teenagers and she was starting to recognize them. Alice…Vesper…Arkady…once just sounds over the metallic hiss of the comm…Gabriel Templar…Ty Cloud…Tolliver…voices in class…Tornado Mike….Mimi….each voice now a face.
She froze, terror creeping over her spine. A face. She couldn’t hide the monster in her flesh for long. What if one of these uniforms was Mimi? They were all talking at once. Would she know?
Would it even matter when they saw her?
All she could manage was….
“Please….I’m not a spy…”
“Yeah….didn’t you hear?” An angry voice. “She’s a Rikti!”
“She’s a what!?”
“Oh god…what’s wrong with her face?”
“Huh?”
This was going to get ugly.
(Caveat: This is being slowly pieced together from the chat-log of the in-game RP. Bear with me. I have taken some minor liberties for the sake of the story.)
The wretched girl clutched the battered comm. to her ear and tried to force the words out through the knot in her throat.
“Joni! It’s me! I’m…I’m in Skyway City.”
The comm. nearly burst with activity, voices tumbling over each other in a flood of sound.
“Who’s that?” “I dunno.” “Hey, it’s Amy.” “Omigod! Amy!” “What’s going on?” “Is that the girl Mimi blew up with her super sounds?” “She didn’t do that, moron.” “Yeah, I heard she exploded a girl!” “Shut up.” “What are we fighting about?” “Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up.” “Amy! Are you alright? What happened?” “We’re coming to Skyway, just stay put!” “No! You shut up!” “Hang on!”
So many voices. Joni’s voice was there but there were so many more.
That one there…that was Vesper….and that one…that was the new kid with the funny accent from math class.
She whirled around at the first sound of footsteps behind her.
A St. Joe’s uniform. Strange…it wasn’t how she had always pictured it but it assured her it was a classmate who had found her. Amy just couldn’t piece together who the girl who wore it was. Blue hair…well…blue-ish, anyway. White skin….she was crying…then…
“Amy! Oh, my god I can’t believe it’s you!”
Joni’s voice.
“What’s going on! Amy, they said someone…Mimi…smashed in your door! They said you’d been taken….by…Rikti…”
This was her best friend. Finally, she saw the face of her best friend and soon…the favor would be returned.
Suddenly, there were more uniforms and Amy saw them all for the first time. Reflexively, she tried to shield her face with her arm but it was doing little good. Familiar voices began to rise above the din of teenagers and she was starting to recognize them. Alice…Vesper…Arkady…once just sounds over the metallic hiss of the comm…Gabriel Templar…Ty Cloud…Tolliver…voices in class…Tornado Mike….Mimi….each voice now a face.
She froze, terror creeping over her spine. A face. She couldn’t hide the monster in her flesh for long. What if one of these uniforms was Mimi? They were all talking at once. Would she know?
Would it even matter when they saw her?
All she could manage was….
“Please….I’m not a spy…”
“Yeah….didn’t you hear?” An angry voice. “She’s a Rikti!”
“She’s a what!?”
“Oh god…what’s wrong with her face?”
“Huh?”
This was going to get ugly.
(Caveat: This is being slowly pieced together from the chat-log of the in-game RP. Bear with me. I have taken some minor liberties for the sake of the story.)
Re: Flying Blind
And ugly it got.
The din that erupted from the gathered students was stifling, drowning in the smoke of fear and vengeance, blending together liked swirls of a painted mess. Finger-painting with words of war.
Joni’s voice was still there. And the girl, Alex. Vesper and Gabriel too. Too many hands in the fire, too many hands of kindling, and things were fast burning out of control. Through the soft mist of tears, Amy stared down at the grass. She pondered how it could have such a life-like color. Her hand passed lightly over the top of the prickly, green, thatch; the sharp tips tickling her palm as she brushed over them. Such a calm, serene thing these small blades were. She had to destroy it. Yes, then destroy it, she tore it from the soil. That’s what she wanted…destroy it. Vicious nails ripped handfuls of grass from the nurturing Earth.
Wait…what was happening to her?!?
“Oh my god! Look Out!!!”
The voice tore through her head and shattered the reverie that had been hiding her from their sight.
Amy’s head snapped up. Green again, but not the grass…no,the sky. Her mind screamed at her moments before the words made it to her lips, but by then, it was too late. The first blast took out the picnic table, sending students in all directions. The Rikti were upon them, armored gunners and glistening target drones. Alien voices crackled through her head.
Destroy.
It was all she could do to get to her feet in time to narrowly avoid the swipe of an elongated hand. A second blast tore through a nearby tree, shards of bark twisting out into space. The students leapt into action all around her. No longer teenagers shoving each other in the hallways, they came together as a corps of the righteous. Heroes fighting for their right to live. A hero she would never be.
Her fists began to bunch, fingers curling tight.
A sharp tug sent Amy spinning in an uncoordinated half-turn. Stumbling, she would have lashed out had Joni’s shout not stopped her. She had a hold of Amy’s jacket sleeve, her grip so tight that frost was beginning to spread through the beaten leather.
“Amy! We gotta go! Alex, c’mon!! Run!”
They ran, the three of them. They ran as far up and down the nonsensical streets of Paragon City as they could. For a moment, Amy couldn’t imagine where they could possibly be going when the jumbled words of the last several minutes began to come back to her.
GIFT, they had to make it to GIFT. It would be her only chance. Her last chance.
The din that erupted from the gathered students was stifling, drowning in the smoke of fear and vengeance, blending together liked swirls of a painted mess. Finger-painting with words of war.
Joni’s voice was still there. And the girl, Alex. Vesper and Gabriel too. Too many hands in the fire, too many hands of kindling, and things were fast burning out of control. Through the soft mist of tears, Amy stared down at the grass. She pondered how it could have such a life-like color. Her hand passed lightly over the top of the prickly, green, thatch; the sharp tips tickling her palm as she brushed over them. Such a calm, serene thing these small blades were. She had to destroy it. Yes, then destroy it, she tore it from the soil. That’s what she wanted…destroy it. Vicious nails ripped handfuls of grass from the nurturing Earth.
Wait…what was happening to her?!?
“Oh my god! Look Out!!!”
The voice tore through her head and shattered the reverie that had been hiding her from their sight.
Amy’s head snapped up. Green again, but not the grass…no,the sky. Her mind screamed at her moments before the words made it to her lips, but by then, it was too late. The first blast took out the picnic table, sending students in all directions. The Rikti were upon them, armored gunners and glistening target drones. Alien voices crackled through her head.
Destroy.
It was all she could do to get to her feet in time to narrowly avoid the swipe of an elongated hand. A second blast tore through a nearby tree, shards of bark twisting out into space. The students leapt into action all around her. No longer teenagers shoving each other in the hallways, they came together as a corps of the righteous. Heroes fighting for their right to live. A hero she would never be.
Her fists began to bunch, fingers curling tight.
A sharp tug sent Amy spinning in an uncoordinated half-turn. Stumbling, she would have lashed out had Joni’s shout not stopped her. She had a hold of Amy’s jacket sleeve, her grip so tight that frost was beginning to spread through the beaten leather.
“Amy! We gotta go! Alex, c’mon!! Run!”
They ran, the three of them. They ran as far up and down the nonsensical streets of Paragon City as they could. For a moment, Amy couldn’t imagine where they could possibly be going when the jumbled words of the last several minutes began to come back to her.
GIFT, they had to make it to GIFT. It would be her only chance. Her last chance.
Re: Flying Blind
The laboratory technician regarded Amy over the top of his glasses as she fidgeted in her chair. Since arriving at G.I.F.T. yesterday, she had nervously awaited any word on what would certainly spell out her fate. The technician sighed and rubbed the vein in his forehead that had begun to have a habit of popping out whenever he talked to her. In response, Amy did her best not to scratch at any one of the six eyes that now adorned her face.
“Miss Davis, as I’m sure you’re aware, the problem seems to lie with your regenerative capabilities. For some reason, when you sustain injury, your cellular regeneration doesn’t map out your normal human cells and rebuild them. Instead, it seems to be operating on a repeated mutating level. Sort of a mutation within the mutation if you follow me.”
Amy did her best to nod.
“In short, what we’re dealing with here is that your regenerative mutation is somehow convinced that you are a Rikti and so when it builds new cells, it builds Rikti cells instead of human cells. This explains why the changes you’ve been experiencing come in bits and pieces. Now, the serum Dr. Hoyer prescribed for you can, generally speaking, keep up with your regeneration, ensuring that it heals your normal human cells instead of mutating them. But when you consistently sustain serious injury, the serum can’t keep up. We’ll have to start you on several high dose rounds to try to get you back to normal. Do you understand?”
The prospect was daunting. Dr. Hoyer, the mutant geneticist she had seen earlier, had been quite clear on the serum’s possible side-effects. There was no telling how its formula might alter her mental state or in rare cases, cause permanent physical deformity if her regenerative ability went awry.
She nodded again.
The technician sighed.
“Alright, we’ll start the first dose regimen tomorrow morning. I’ll contact your school and let them know that you’ll be in the G.I.F.T. facility for a few weeks. Do you have any questions?”
One of her eyes was beginning to itch. The smooth skin covering her cheeks and lips twitched with irritation.
“No.” she replied. What was the use in asking questions?
Later that evening, Amy sat silently on her bed in the room the nurses had prepared for her. It was sparse and reminiscent of a jail cell, but it was the best the underground hospital had to offer. Outside, the sounds of the Rikti invasion continued unabated. Radio reports had them appearing as far away Talos Island and possibly even in the Rogue Isles. With a stifled sob, Amy held her hands to her ears. She didn’t bother to pray that the noises would stop, surely better people than her prayed for the very same thing tonight, and God didn’t seem to be listening to them.
She missed Bailey, missed Joni, missed her classes and her teachers. Anything, anywhere but here. She huddled on the bed, wrapping herself around her pillow. Tears trickled from her eyes, creating a torrent down her sloped face.
“Mom…..”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Things were better when the world was dark; they made more sense when you couldn’t see them.
Lying there, she replayed the technician’s words. High doses of the serum would take the Rikti away and suddenly, that was all she wanted, to take the Rikti away. Away from her face and away from her mind. Sitting up, she grabbed her jacket from the floor and dug through her pockets. Coming upon the vial of her serum kept there she yanked it out along with the small syringe. Usually, she took the amber liquid in small CC doses, just enough to reset her regeneration for a day or two.
She poked the needle into the top of the vial and drew the entire contents of the bottle into the plastic syringe. For a moment, she stared at it, before pursing her lips and, with as much resolve as she could muster, jabbing it into her forearm. She swallowed hard and slammed her thumb onto the plunger.
Within seconds, the world went black.
“Miss Davis, as I’m sure you’re aware, the problem seems to lie with your regenerative capabilities. For some reason, when you sustain injury, your cellular regeneration doesn’t map out your normal human cells and rebuild them. Instead, it seems to be operating on a repeated mutating level. Sort of a mutation within the mutation if you follow me.”
Amy did her best to nod.
“In short, what we’re dealing with here is that your regenerative mutation is somehow convinced that you are a Rikti and so when it builds new cells, it builds Rikti cells instead of human cells. This explains why the changes you’ve been experiencing come in bits and pieces. Now, the serum Dr. Hoyer prescribed for you can, generally speaking, keep up with your regeneration, ensuring that it heals your normal human cells instead of mutating them. But when you consistently sustain serious injury, the serum can’t keep up. We’ll have to start you on several high dose rounds to try to get you back to normal. Do you understand?”
The prospect was daunting. Dr. Hoyer, the mutant geneticist she had seen earlier, had been quite clear on the serum’s possible side-effects. There was no telling how its formula might alter her mental state or in rare cases, cause permanent physical deformity if her regenerative ability went awry.
She nodded again.
The technician sighed.
“Alright, we’ll start the first dose regimen tomorrow morning. I’ll contact your school and let them know that you’ll be in the G.I.F.T. facility for a few weeks. Do you have any questions?”
One of her eyes was beginning to itch. The smooth skin covering her cheeks and lips twitched with irritation.
“No.” she replied. What was the use in asking questions?
Later that evening, Amy sat silently on her bed in the room the nurses had prepared for her. It was sparse and reminiscent of a jail cell, but it was the best the underground hospital had to offer. Outside, the sounds of the Rikti invasion continued unabated. Radio reports had them appearing as far away Talos Island and possibly even in the Rogue Isles. With a stifled sob, Amy held her hands to her ears. She didn’t bother to pray that the noises would stop, surely better people than her prayed for the very same thing tonight, and God didn’t seem to be listening to them.
She missed Bailey, missed Joni, missed her classes and her teachers. Anything, anywhere but here. She huddled on the bed, wrapping herself around her pillow. Tears trickled from her eyes, creating a torrent down her sloped face.
“Mom…..”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Things were better when the world was dark; they made more sense when you couldn’t see them.
Lying there, she replayed the technician’s words. High doses of the serum would take the Rikti away and suddenly, that was all she wanted, to take the Rikti away. Away from her face and away from her mind. Sitting up, she grabbed her jacket from the floor and dug through her pockets. Coming upon the vial of her serum kept there she yanked it out along with the small syringe. Usually, she took the amber liquid in small CC doses, just enough to reset her regeneration for a day or two.
She poked the needle into the top of the vial and drew the entire contents of the bottle into the plastic syringe. For a moment, she stared at it, before pursing her lips and, with as much resolve as she could muster, jabbing it into her forearm. She swallowed hard and slammed her thumb onto the plunger.
Within seconds, the world went black.
Re: Flying Blind
Tuesday, 3:15pm
My name is Amy Davis and when I was 16 years old, I was diagnosed with a terminal illness. The cancer that was spreading through my body wasn’t the kind of tumor doctors learned about in medical school. It didn’t have a pattern, it didn’t respond to radiation, and there was no cure. There were no support groups to listen to my fears, no foundations dedicated to my woes, and no crying celebrities to champion me. This cancer didn’t even have an unpronounceable name I could hold up and hide behind. This cancer was called Rikti.
I would like to tell you about how brave I was, about how I faced the devastating news with poise and courage. How I fought like a hero.
But I didn’t.
Somewhere in a medical institution, long after the nurses and doctors had gone home for the night, I sat on the cold concrete of a boarding room. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, I wasn’t trying to end my life; only end the life of the thing that lived in my face. The drugs in my hand weren’t meant to kill me. Good thing they didn’t.
I can remember waking up to the tune of machines carefully counting out my heartbeats and breaths. I was facing up, my hands gripping the commercial quilt covering my lower half. The stuffed panels have exactly two-hundred and thirty-eight prefabricated stitches.
Dr. Hoyer came in to tell me the good news. Aside from the fact that I was alive, he said, it appeared that my overdose had also caused my face and most of my left arm to revert back to normal, even if I had almost stopped my heart as well. My regeneration had barely been able to keep up with the effects of the drug but thankfully, it appeared that my mutation had adapted fast enough to save all my vital systems. Yeah, lucky me. But I wasn’t as happy as I thought I should be. While I once again looked normal, it was only temporary…until the next time I was hurt. Then it would be just as it had been before. The Rikti inside me remained, and he was patient.
I was also blind. Again. Nothing new in the grand scheme of things, but this was the first time since the car accident four years ago that it hit me so hard. I knew what it meant this time. The blind eyes were my damaged human organs. Useless pieces of flesh now, too shredded by flying glass to do anything but stare into the darkness. To be Rikti, was to see.
The nurses and technicians were as kind as they could manage. They told me I would be back to school in a matter of days and that everything would be ok. But they just didn’t get it. It would never be ok.
Never.
My greatest fear was that one day; I would be able to see again.
My name is Amy Davis and when I was 16 years old, I was diagnosed with a terminal illness. The cancer that was spreading through my body wasn’t the kind of tumor doctors learned about in medical school. It didn’t have a pattern, it didn’t respond to radiation, and there was no cure. There were no support groups to listen to my fears, no foundations dedicated to my woes, and no crying celebrities to champion me. This cancer didn’t even have an unpronounceable name I could hold up and hide behind. This cancer was called Rikti.
I would like to tell you about how brave I was, about how I faced the devastating news with poise and courage. How I fought like a hero.
But I didn’t.
Somewhere in a medical institution, long after the nurses and doctors had gone home for the night, I sat on the cold concrete of a boarding room. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, I wasn’t trying to end my life; only end the life of the thing that lived in my face. The drugs in my hand weren’t meant to kill me. Good thing they didn’t.
I can remember waking up to the tune of machines carefully counting out my heartbeats and breaths. I was facing up, my hands gripping the commercial quilt covering my lower half. The stuffed panels have exactly two-hundred and thirty-eight prefabricated stitches.
Dr. Hoyer came in to tell me the good news. Aside from the fact that I was alive, he said, it appeared that my overdose had also caused my face and most of my left arm to revert back to normal, even if I had almost stopped my heart as well. My regeneration had barely been able to keep up with the effects of the drug but thankfully, it appeared that my mutation had adapted fast enough to save all my vital systems. Yeah, lucky me. But I wasn’t as happy as I thought I should be. While I once again looked normal, it was only temporary…until the next time I was hurt. Then it would be just as it had been before. The Rikti inside me remained, and he was patient.
I was also blind. Again. Nothing new in the grand scheme of things, but this was the first time since the car accident four years ago that it hit me so hard. I knew what it meant this time. The blind eyes were my damaged human organs. Useless pieces of flesh now, too shredded by flying glass to do anything but stare into the darkness. To be Rikti, was to see.
The nurses and technicians were as kind as they could manage. They told me I would be back to school in a matter of days and that everything would be ok. But they just didn’t get it. It would never be ok.
Never.
My greatest fear was that one day; I would be able to see again.
Re: Flying Blind
Thursday, 8:06pm
They say that denial is the first stage of grieving. In this stage we refuse to believe what has happened. We try, in our mind, to tell ourselves that life is as it was before. We can even make believe to an extent that by re-enacting the rituals we used to go through, that nothing has changed. In truth, we let our minds take away the reality of the situation.
I need to get out of my own head.
I think back to those terrifying moments on the Rikti ship and somehow they seem less real in my memory. It’s like I’m replaying scary movie scenes so I can quote them later with my friends when we laugh about the bad summer blockbusters coming out this year. But the only touch of humor I actually get out of the whole thing is that I get to say that I was abducted by aliens, and even that’s not really funny.
Maybe if I just deny the whole thing happened, everyone around me will feel too sympathetic or too uncomfortable to bring it up. At least then I could manage to get through a gym class without being asked what I thought of Area 51.
I go back to school on Monday. Back to St. Joe’s where everyone is different and that’s ok….well, all except for me. Freak Pride, that’s what Joni called it. There’s a part of me that’s tempted to have a t-shirt made with that, but when I really think about it, I guess I would never wear it. I was abducted by aliens and all I got was this lousy t-shirt? Nah….that’s not that funny either.
I’m getting used to the darkness again. I’ve finally stopped running into things all the time and I’m getting back into the swing of recognizing people by their footsteps. My sense of smell is also picking up again. I tried using some dried pot pourri to cut the pervasive formaldehyde smell earlier, but it just ended up making me dizzy. Every now and then I think my shoes still have hints of jasmine and rose with a nice eucalyptus finish. Something about “Rain Garden” just gets into your sinuses and won’t quit.
Jenny, the lab technician, knocks on my door. I can tell it’s her because her key chain sounds like a cat bell. A few weeks ago, she bought this little pink tag down at the 7-11that says “Princess” on it and it jingles every time she moves.
She poked her head through the door, “Hey Amy!”
“Hey Jen.”
“Hey guess what? I got something for ya.”
I slid sideways off my bed and headed toward the door. I made it just past the desk chair when I heard an unexpectedly familiar clickity-clickity across the tile floor. It was a sound I had not heard in weeks and to this day I am astounded at how such a repetitive noise could radiate with so much joy. I didn’t even realize I was shaking a little until I put my hand out at my hip, where it was met by the cold press of a runny nose and the warm, wet swipe of large, sloppy, tongue.
In those seconds, my world came tumbling down.
There is no sickness that can stand in the way of wiggling fur and a wagging tail. To hell with aliens and to hell with their war. My dog had been waiting for me patiently at the door every night I was missing him.
There weren’t enough tears for him to kiss away. Not enough stinky dog hair for me to bury my face in, or ears to grab and happy whines to comfort.
To hell with your hate. My dog loves me.
I can be a hero for that.
Good dog.
They say that denial is the first stage of grieving. In this stage we refuse to believe what has happened. We try, in our mind, to tell ourselves that life is as it was before. We can even make believe to an extent that by re-enacting the rituals we used to go through, that nothing has changed. In truth, we let our minds take away the reality of the situation.
I need to get out of my own head.
I think back to those terrifying moments on the Rikti ship and somehow they seem less real in my memory. It’s like I’m replaying scary movie scenes so I can quote them later with my friends when we laugh about the bad summer blockbusters coming out this year. But the only touch of humor I actually get out of the whole thing is that I get to say that I was abducted by aliens, and even that’s not really funny.
Maybe if I just deny the whole thing happened, everyone around me will feel too sympathetic or too uncomfortable to bring it up. At least then I could manage to get through a gym class without being asked what I thought of Area 51.
I go back to school on Monday. Back to St. Joe’s where everyone is different and that’s ok….well, all except for me. Freak Pride, that’s what Joni called it. There’s a part of me that’s tempted to have a t-shirt made with that, but when I really think about it, I guess I would never wear it. I was abducted by aliens and all I got was this lousy t-shirt? Nah….that’s not that funny either.
I’m getting used to the darkness again. I’ve finally stopped running into things all the time and I’m getting back into the swing of recognizing people by their footsteps. My sense of smell is also picking up again. I tried using some dried pot pourri to cut the pervasive formaldehyde smell earlier, but it just ended up making me dizzy. Every now and then I think my shoes still have hints of jasmine and rose with a nice eucalyptus finish. Something about “Rain Garden” just gets into your sinuses and won’t quit.
Jenny, the lab technician, knocks on my door. I can tell it’s her because her key chain sounds like a cat bell. A few weeks ago, she bought this little pink tag down at the 7-11that says “Princess” on it and it jingles every time she moves.
She poked her head through the door, “Hey Amy!”
“Hey Jen.”
“Hey guess what? I got something for ya.”
I slid sideways off my bed and headed toward the door. I made it just past the desk chair when I heard an unexpectedly familiar clickity-clickity across the tile floor. It was a sound I had not heard in weeks and to this day I am astounded at how such a repetitive noise could radiate with so much joy. I didn’t even realize I was shaking a little until I put my hand out at my hip, where it was met by the cold press of a runny nose and the warm, wet swipe of large, sloppy, tongue.
In those seconds, my world came tumbling down.
There is no sickness that can stand in the way of wiggling fur and a wagging tail. To hell with aliens and to hell with their war. My dog had been waiting for me patiently at the door every night I was missing him.
There weren’t enough tears for him to kiss away. Not enough stinky dog hair for me to bury my face in, or ears to grab and happy whines to comfort.
To hell with your hate. My dog loves me.
I can be a hero for that.
Good dog.
Re: Flying Blind
Monday 9:15 am
Human beings are, with a few exceptions, communal creatures.
And it would seem that making conversation, spreading news, gossip – whatever you call it – people love to talk about other people. Enclosed environments, where you see the same people day after day, like schools, offices, or military barracks, where everyone knows everyone else, are prime environments for rumor and innuendo. And when it comes to closed-off environments, you don’t get much more isolated than a specialty Catholic school full of teenagers.
The most recent topic to make the rounds of the hallway conversational circles was the subject of a nervously lip-chewing girl in sunglasses impatiently tapping her toes next to a very bored looking golden lab in a service harness.
She was just normal enough to be out of place and many students found it necessary to speculate on her history, her reasons for sitting near Gemini’s office, why she was even at St. Joe’s in the first place, her personal hygiene, and the possibility that it was the dog really sporting superpowers. For those that knew her, arguments typically ensued. Kettles were mentioned.
For Amy’s part, she was once again reminded of the strange fact that, when confronted with someone who is blind, people often mistake them for being deaf and it didn’t take super-hearing to catch most of the stray comments directed her way. Not that she had an ounce of super-hearing anyway. She fidgeted with Bailey’s leash, shifted in her seat a few times, readjusted her sunglasses, and tried her best to pass the interminable time without the benefit of paging through a magazine or failing miserably at a crossword puzzle.
Being back at school was a strange feeling. Again.
Amy had the continuously isolating experience of being “that girl”. The one that constantly missed school because of “illness”, and every time she returned she couldn’t help but feel that a little more of life had simply passed her by.
Bailey whined and groaned as he circled around for a more comfortable position before resting his head in her lap. She took a deep breath. There really was no point in worrying about anything now. Her hand had been dealt and unfortunately, she appeared to be betting in the wrong game.
“Ok, I’ll take you to your first class.”
The sudden voice was unfamiliar, but Gemini had said that another student was on the way to escort her, so it was a pretty safe bet this was him. Amy did her best to smile before shuffling to her feet and grabbing hold of Bailey’s walking handle.
“Um, thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Uh, yeah, no problem. C’mon.”
Bailey obediently pulled Amy in the direction she assumed the boy was walking; that being a good thing, since she hadn’t the slightest clue in which direction “c’mon” was. Thankfully, the halls weren’t crowded so shortly before classes began and she was able to balance her backpack, not step on her dog, and not run smack into anyone in the process.
She liked his voice. All five words of it, and as they walked, a part of her suddenly wanted to strike up a conversation. Maybe she’d ask him what classes he had or what teachers he liked. Maybe she’d even ask him what his favorite music was or if he was in to any movies. She might even get away with a pointlessly random question meant to elicit a modicum of his attention. But it would seem that her brain was permanently set to “constant internal monologue”, her mouth wasn’t working, and the best she managed was a scowl and irritation at her own inability to apparently do anything right. Was it too much to ask to at least be a regular teenager in one respect?
Amy sighed. Surely, everyone has wanted at some point to lead a different life. And maybe true love lasts forever….well….until something better comes along.
Human beings are, with a few exceptions, communal creatures.
And it would seem that making conversation, spreading news, gossip – whatever you call it – people love to talk about other people. Enclosed environments, where you see the same people day after day, like schools, offices, or military barracks, where everyone knows everyone else, are prime environments for rumor and innuendo. And when it comes to closed-off environments, you don’t get much more isolated than a specialty Catholic school full of teenagers.
The most recent topic to make the rounds of the hallway conversational circles was the subject of a nervously lip-chewing girl in sunglasses impatiently tapping her toes next to a very bored looking golden lab in a service harness.
She was just normal enough to be out of place and many students found it necessary to speculate on her history, her reasons for sitting near Gemini’s office, why she was even at St. Joe’s in the first place, her personal hygiene, and the possibility that it was the dog really sporting superpowers. For those that knew her, arguments typically ensued. Kettles were mentioned.
For Amy’s part, she was once again reminded of the strange fact that, when confronted with someone who is blind, people often mistake them for being deaf and it didn’t take super-hearing to catch most of the stray comments directed her way. Not that she had an ounce of super-hearing anyway. She fidgeted with Bailey’s leash, shifted in her seat a few times, readjusted her sunglasses, and tried her best to pass the interminable time without the benefit of paging through a magazine or failing miserably at a crossword puzzle.
Being back at school was a strange feeling. Again.
Amy had the continuously isolating experience of being “that girl”. The one that constantly missed school because of “illness”, and every time she returned she couldn’t help but feel that a little more of life had simply passed her by.
Bailey whined and groaned as he circled around for a more comfortable position before resting his head in her lap. She took a deep breath. There really was no point in worrying about anything now. Her hand had been dealt and unfortunately, she appeared to be betting in the wrong game.
“Ok, I’ll take you to your first class.”
The sudden voice was unfamiliar, but Gemini had said that another student was on the way to escort her, so it was a pretty safe bet this was him. Amy did her best to smile before shuffling to her feet and grabbing hold of Bailey’s walking handle.
“Um, thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Uh, yeah, no problem. C’mon.”
Bailey obediently pulled Amy in the direction she assumed the boy was walking; that being a good thing, since she hadn’t the slightest clue in which direction “c’mon” was. Thankfully, the halls weren’t crowded so shortly before classes began and she was able to balance her backpack, not step on her dog, and not run smack into anyone in the process.
She liked his voice. All five words of it, and as they walked, a part of her suddenly wanted to strike up a conversation. Maybe she’d ask him what classes he had or what teachers he liked. Maybe she’d even ask him what his favorite music was or if he was in to any movies. She might even get away with a pointlessly random question meant to elicit a modicum of his attention. But it would seem that her brain was permanently set to “constant internal monologue”, her mouth wasn’t working, and the best she managed was a scowl and irritation at her own inability to apparently do anything right. Was it too much to ask to at least be a regular teenager in one respect?
Amy sighed. Surely, everyone has wanted at some point to lead a different life. And maybe true love lasts forever….well….until something better comes along.
Re: Flying Blind
[This post ended up being incredibly long, so in order to avoid a TL;DR, I'm breaking it up into multiple posts. For those of you who are waiting for your heroic appearance, bear with me, it's coming. Promise 
]
Friday, 3:28 pm
“Pizza again! Can’t we just do Chinese this once?”
The voice had to have been Bobby’s. From what Amy could tell, he was at once both the only boy to her right and the only boy to have consistently maintained that pizza was the root of all evil.
Bailey made a sound that could only be described as a ‘snorf’ as more students gathered in the hallway. The last bell for the week had finally rung its last and the topic of dinner, courtesy of Paragon City, was making the usual rounds through Sister Moltar’s English 4th period.
Vesper’s unmistakable voice chimed in from the lower left, “Pizza sounds good to me. Besides, I heard that the seafood at the Chinese Buffet place gave Stasi food poisoning.”
“No it didn’t. That was Kara up horking all night.”
“Wait, what now? I was not.”
“Well it wasn’t me and I know that Sam and Mal haven’t had Chinese since the peanut butter incident.”
“What about peanut butter, now? Guys, c’mon...I’m allergic to peanut butter!”
“It’s ok Sam, we’re just deciding on pizza.”
“Peanut-butter pizza?!?”
Amy was fast losing track of the conversation. Somewhere during the exchange, she had imagined five voices, now there seemed to be a dozen more. Maybe if she could picture a Braille page, each voice its own pattern of raised dots, it might all come together into….into what….connect the dots for psychotics? The thought that she might just be schizophrenic occurred to her.
A touch at her elbow, “Hey Amy, you wanna come too?” Joni almost certainly.
“Um, oh! Sure. That sounds great.” Lame. But it was the best she could muster.
“Hey Stas, why don’t you, Kara, Sam, Bobby, Mal, Thorny, and Ves head on over, I’ll take the train with Amy.”
A sheepish smile, “Thanks, Joni.”
It wasn’t twenty minutes later and the entire pride of students arrived, already tipsy on weekend freedom. Genarro’s Pizza was, thankfully, an easily orienting landmark for Amy. The perpetual funk of day-old cheese and imitation meat could be detected two blocks in any direction and the train station was less than a half-block away.
Settling in to several booths along the back wall, most immediately lit into their well-greased paper menus. Joni, graciously offering a whispered laundry list of available topping choices, took the space directly across from Bailey, who now seemed equally excited about the prospect of a Gennaro’s special order.
“Aw, c’mon…can’t we at least get ONE without mushrooms?” Amy could almost imagine the scrunched look on Vesper’s face, nose nearly even with her eyebrows.
“I want pineapple!!”
“You got pineapple last time.”
“No, Thorny got all the pineapple. Right after he ate all my Canadian Bacon and left nothing but crust and sauce.”
“The sauce was all garlicky.”
“Hey! Leggo of my menu!”
“Can’t we just get one half pineapple, and the other half mushroom?”
Now we were talking rocket science.
Amy spent the following boisterous moments contemplating the reality of pineapple and mushrooms, thanking any god listening that her dog waited stealthily beneath the table rim, an easy sleight-of-hand manoeuvre away from a pizza slice vanishing act.
Still mulling her possible dinner magic show, Amy absently began to flex her knuckles. A strange, tingling sensation crept from her fingertips, spreading into a numb sensation in her palm. Thinking they must be falling asleep, she idly tapped the back of her hands on the underside of the pasteboard table.
Tap….taptap…..tap – tap – tap – tap…..tap….taptap….tap – tap – tap – tap….
“What is that?”
“What is what, Stas?”
“That.”
“That is Bobby losing to Mal at pinball.” Kara sounded distracted.
“No, no,….that…”
“Whazrong? I don’t hear anything.” Vesper mumbled through the ‘cronch-cronch’ of her breadstick.
“No, Stasi’s right, I’ve heard that before somewhere.”
Bailey whined, but Amy seemed to have missed it all, staring, sightless out across the booth towards the large glass windows proudly proclaiming ALL YOU CAN EAT THURSDAYS $5.99.
Tap….taptap…..tap – tap – tap – tap…..tap….taptap….tap – tap – tap – tap….
“Uh…guys?” Joni’s voice was suddenly uneven.
Somewhere in the depths of Amy’s mind, a siren began to wail warning and frightened footsteps beat out a rhythm into the broken concrete outside.
Tap….taptap…..tap – tap – tap – tap…..tap….taptap….tap – tap – tap – tap….
Sam let out a shout, nearly knocking her two classmates from the booth as she leapt clear to her feet, “Look at the sky!”
Bailey yarked angrily.
“RIKTI!”
]Friday, 3:28 pm
“Pizza again! Can’t we just do Chinese this once?”
The voice had to have been Bobby’s. From what Amy could tell, he was at once both the only boy to her right and the only boy to have consistently maintained that pizza was the root of all evil.
Bailey made a sound that could only be described as a ‘snorf’ as more students gathered in the hallway. The last bell for the week had finally rung its last and the topic of dinner, courtesy of Paragon City, was making the usual rounds through Sister Moltar’s English 4th period.
Vesper’s unmistakable voice chimed in from the lower left, “Pizza sounds good to me. Besides, I heard that the seafood at the Chinese Buffet place gave Stasi food poisoning.”
“No it didn’t. That was Kara up horking all night.”
“Wait, what now? I was not.”
“Well it wasn’t me and I know that Sam and Mal haven’t had Chinese since the peanut butter incident.”
“What about peanut butter, now? Guys, c’mon...I’m allergic to peanut butter!”
“It’s ok Sam, we’re just deciding on pizza.”
“Peanut-butter pizza?!?”
Amy was fast losing track of the conversation. Somewhere during the exchange, she had imagined five voices, now there seemed to be a dozen more. Maybe if she could picture a Braille page, each voice its own pattern of raised dots, it might all come together into….into what….connect the dots for psychotics? The thought that she might just be schizophrenic occurred to her.
A touch at her elbow, “Hey Amy, you wanna come too?” Joni almost certainly.
“Um, oh! Sure. That sounds great.” Lame. But it was the best she could muster.
“Hey Stas, why don’t you, Kara, Sam, Bobby, Mal, Thorny, and Ves head on over, I’ll take the train with Amy.”
A sheepish smile, “Thanks, Joni.”
It wasn’t twenty minutes later and the entire pride of students arrived, already tipsy on weekend freedom. Genarro’s Pizza was, thankfully, an easily orienting landmark for Amy. The perpetual funk of day-old cheese and imitation meat could be detected two blocks in any direction and the train station was less than a half-block away.
Settling in to several booths along the back wall, most immediately lit into their well-greased paper menus. Joni, graciously offering a whispered laundry list of available topping choices, took the space directly across from Bailey, who now seemed equally excited about the prospect of a Gennaro’s special order.
“Aw, c’mon…can’t we at least get ONE without mushrooms?” Amy could almost imagine the scrunched look on Vesper’s face, nose nearly even with her eyebrows.
“I want pineapple!!”
“You got pineapple last time.”
“No, Thorny got all the pineapple. Right after he ate all my Canadian Bacon and left nothing but crust and sauce.”
“The sauce was all garlicky.”
“Hey! Leggo of my menu!”
“Can’t we just get one half pineapple, and the other half mushroom?”
Now we were talking rocket science.
Amy spent the following boisterous moments contemplating the reality of pineapple and mushrooms, thanking any god listening that her dog waited stealthily beneath the table rim, an easy sleight-of-hand manoeuvre away from a pizza slice vanishing act.
Still mulling her possible dinner magic show, Amy absently began to flex her knuckles. A strange, tingling sensation crept from her fingertips, spreading into a numb sensation in her palm. Thinking they must be falling asleep, she idly tapped the back of her hands on the underside of the pasteboard table.
Tap….taptap…..tap – tap – tap – tap…..tap….taptap….tap – tap – tap – tap….
“What is that?”
“What is what, Stas?”
“That.”
“That is Bobby losing to Mal at pinball.” Kara sounded distracted.
“No, no,….that…”
“Whazrong? I don’t hear anything.” Vesper mumbled through the ‘cronch-cronch’ of her breadstick.
“No, Stasi’s right, I’ve heard that before somewhere.”
Bailey whined, but Amy seemed to have missed it all, staring, sightless out across the booth towards the large glass windows proudly proclaiming ALL YOU CAN EAT THURSDAYS $5.99.
Tap….taptap…..tap – tap – tap – tap…..tap….taptap….tap – tap – tap – tap….
“Uh…guys?” Joni’s voice was suddenly uneven.
Somewhere in the depths of Amy’s mind, a siren began to wail warning and frightened footsteps beat out a rhythm into the broken concrete outside.
Tap….taptap…..tap – tap – tap – tap…..tap….taptap….tap – tap – tap – tap….
Sam let out a shout, nearly knocking her two classmates from the booth as she leapt clear to her feet, “Look at the sky!”
Bailey yarked angrily.
“RIKTI!”
Re: Flying Blind
CONTINUED...
The world came crashing back in whirl of activity as girl and boy alike flew from chair and booth, from pinball machine and food counter, bursting through the door of the high school hangout into a full heroic call to arms.
Joni yelled back through the din, “Amy! Stay there!” Bailey huffed a response as it appeared the young girl holding, white-knuckled, to his leash, was momentarily beyond coherent words.
Amy could not see the battle as it played out, but the band of students so engaged were something to behold. From the immediate noises, it would seem that Stasis had dived in first.
Thorn leaped out from the table, hot on Stasis' heels, and took to the sky, having cut a wide arc out of the air. From his aerial vantage point, he yelled out to his friends below.
"Guys! Take care of the ground! Ves! Help me handle everything up here!" Thorn called, spinning in the air, dropping altitude in one motion to avoid an energy blast from a squadron of drones rising to challenge him in the sky. Spikes rippled out of his skin, tearing through cloth on his upper body and legs, gleaming like freshly polished bone in the late afternoon light. Red lightning lanced up his right arm; arcing between the spikes along it with crackling ferocity. Thrusting his arm forward at the fleet of drones, raw scarlet energy danced forward in a column of power, slamming into one drone full on, crushing the aerial stabilizers and causing it to spin in a slow spiral to the ground. The other drones scattered, spun out by the explosive force of the energy. Spikes at the ready, Thorn took the battle to the remaining drones, aiming for the ocular sensor lenses on their curved metal facings, hoping to smash them in and prevent the machines from taking action.
Moments later, when the fleet of drones were taken care of or, at least, disabled, Thorn dove downward, swooping low to help out in the ongoing ground battle, letting spikes fly out of his arms and pepper the heavy armor of Rikti Headmen. Several pieces managed to pierce some chinks and when he got lucky, they delivered a hefty dose of paralytic venom inherent in his spikes. He concentrated as best he could, the scarlet energy leaping from his eyes and lashing out to scorch the chests and backs of Rikti. Hopefully it would distract them long enough to pull attention off of his friends.
Malcolm, for his part, stayed with the group as the assault began. Ten or fifteen minutes after it started, though, there was a small, but noticeable shriek. Two pedestrians, having wandered into the combat zone, were now being quickly surrounded by the alien attackers.
Quickly, with one of the vaulting leaps that his minute adjustments of gravity allowed him to do, Mal was between the two women and the Rikti. His fists and lower arms seemed to shimmer as the gravitic distortions around them increased. Two of the aliens, in apparent response, proceeded to bash him over the head with their maces. Mal scarcely flinched, and his super-heavy fists returned the favor, sending the infantrymen flying backwards. Another hit, and at least five chittering monkeys joined their short, painful flight. Another few hits and he had cleared the path for the two women to escape, which they were all too willing to take advantage of.
It was around this time a more heavily armored Rikti strode from the pack towards Mal, and someone (likely Stasis) barely had time to shout "That one's a psychic, dumbass!" before it attacked. The goofy look on Mal's face as he was summarily mind-zapped almost made up for the stream of blood coming out of his nose. There was probably going to be a quick, unpleasant trip to Overbrook Medical Center in his near future.
Joni managed to deftly avoid the falling Mal just in time to come face to face with a Rikti gunner. Skidding to a stop, she launched the best defense that came to mind, nearly freezing the alien’s feet solid to the sidewalk. Forced to duck from another energy blast screaming past her head, Joni straightened up in time to see the same Rikti now battling a healthy dose of fire.
Sam and Kara leapt nimbly past, neatly clothes-lining a screeching monkey, as Bobby waved frantically to the pale, icy, Joni from the other end of the street. Somewhere in the din of the fight, his voice called out, “Nothing like fire and ice, right Joni!?”
Amy sat silent in the booth, the smell of pepperoni and cheese sinking into her jacket and hair. Her hands shook, her lips began to quiver. Bailey paced, unwilling to break free and unable to defend his beloved girl with any equal measure.
Rikti.
There was a voice then. That voice again. Drifting into her mind, carried on the sounds of battle, breaking through the static that paralyzed her mind and crippled her limbs.
“A’mi? You: I find.”
Roh’ket.
The world came crashing back in whirl of activity as girl and boy alike flew from chair and booth, from pinball machine and food counter, bursting through the door of the high school hangout into a full heroic call to arms.
Joni yelled back through the din, “Amy! Stay there!” Bailey huffed a response as it appeared the young girl holding, white-knuckled, to his leash, was momentarily beyond coherent words.
Amy could not see the battle as it played out, but the band of students so engaged were something to behold. From the immediate noises, it would seem that Stasis had dived in first.
Thorn leaped out from the table, hot on Stasis' heels, and took to the sky, having cut a wide arc out of the air. From his aerial vantage point, he yelled out to his friends below.
"Guys! Take care of the ground! Ves! Help me handle everything up here!" Thorn called, spinning in the air, dropping altitude in one motion to avoid an energy blast from a squadron of drones rising to challenge him in the sky. Spikes rippled out of his skin, tearing through cloth on his upper body and legs, gleaming like freshly polished bone in the late afternoon light. Red lightning lanced up his right arm; arcing between the spikes along it with crackling ferocity. Thrusting his arm forward at the fleet of drones, raw scarlet energy danced forward in a column of power, slamming into one drone full on, crushing the aerial stabilizers and causing it to spin in a slow spiral to the ground. The other drones scattered, spun out by the explosive force of the energy. Spikes at the ready, Thorn took the battle to the remaining drones, aiming for the ocular sensor lenses on their curved metal facings, hoping to smash them in and prevent the machines from taking action.
Moments later, when the fleet of drones were taken care of or, at least, disabled, Thorn dove downward, swooping low to help out in the ongoing ground battle, letting spikes fly out of his arms and pepper the heavy armor of Rikti Headmen. Several pieces managed to pierce some chinks and when he got lucky, they delivered a hefty dose of paralytic venom inherent in his spikes. He concentrated as best he could, the scarlet energy leaping from his eyes and lashing out to scorch the chests and backs of Rikti. Hopefully it would distract them long enough to pull attention off of his friends.
Malcolm, for his part, stayed with the group as the assault began. Ten or fifteen minutes after it started, though, there was a small, but noticeable shriek. Two pedestrians, having wandered into the combat zone, were now being quickly surrounded by the alien attackers.
Quickly, with one of the vaulting leaps that his minute adjustments of gravity allowed him to do, Mal was between the two women and the Rikti. His fists and lower arms seemed to shimmer as the gravitic distortions around them increased. Two of the aliens, in apparent response, proceeded to bash him over the head with their maces. Mal scarcely flinched, and his super-heavy fists returned the favor, sending the infantrymen flying backwards. Another hit, and at least five chittering monkeys joined their short, painful flight. Another few hits and he had cleared the path for the two women to escape, which they were all too willing to take advantage of.
It was around this time a more heavily armored Rikti strode from the pack towards Mal, and someone (likely Stasis) barely had time to shout "That one's a psychic, dumbass!" before it attacked. The goofy look on Mal's face as he was summarily mind-zapped almost made up for the stream of blood coming out of his nose. There was probably going to be a quick, unpleasant trip to Overbrook Medical Center in his near future.
Joni managed to deftly avoid the falling Mal just in time to come face to face with a Rikti gunner. Skidding to a stop, she launched the best defense that came to mind, nearly freezing the alien’s feet solid to the sidewalk. Forced to duck from another energy blast screaming past her head, Joni straightened up in time to see the same Rikti now battling a healthy dose of fire.
Sam and Kara leapt nimbly past, neatly clothes-lining a screeching monkey, as Bobby waved frantically to the pale, icy, Joni from the other end of the street. Somewhere in the din of the fight, his voice called out, “Nothing like fire and ice, right Joni!?”
Amy sat silent in the booth, the smell of pepperoni and cheese sinking into her jacket and hair. Her hands shook, her lips began to quiver. Bailey paced, unwilling to break free and unable to defend his beloved girl with any equal measure.
Rikti.
There was a voice then. That voice again. Drifting into her mind, carried on the sounds of battle, breaking through the static that paralyzed her mind and crippled her limbs.
“A’mi? You: I find.”
Roh’ket.