Life During Wartime - Issue 10 Interludes

[Broadway]

The bombs continued to drop. It had been hours now, and they never stopped. In the bowels of the St Joe’s bunker, it sounded dull, hollow, but everyone knew exactly what it meant. The Rikti were back. They were back in a big way. Everyone in the bunker knew that the cities would never be the same. Their world would never be the same. Students huddled in the main common room, many hadn’t left, despite the rooms provided with bunk beds. They were simply too scared. They needed the comfort of other people that were in the same situation, and drew strength from that camaraderie.


Jason Berenzhin sat in the middle of the student body of St Joeseph’s School, and it faculty, listening to murmurs, quiet sobbing, and silence. His own sense of loss and fear only slightly less evident. He sat on the hard floor, knees drawn up, resting his head on arms hugged around them. He knew their thoughts, and fears echoed his own. Were the bombs hitting my home? Is my family okay? Will I ever see them again? He recognized his own breathing starting to shallow out, and knew he had to get a hold of himself. Just like before a show, he thought, ruefully, only much much worse. There wasn’t an audience waiting for him here, no performance he could take shelter in. He settled back, closing his eyes, taking a long, slow breath, when he heard one of the new, younger students start to cry in earnest.

“My parents, I want my Mom!” He heard others try to shush the small girl. He guessed she was eight, maybe nine. “I don’t want to shush, I want out of here!” Wracking sobs came from her small frame, and several other students held onto her, trying to soothe the panic.

It was evident in the small girl, but evident to Jason’s enhance hearing were the heartbeats that elevated around her. Panic was contagious, and in close spaces, dangerous. Jason looked at Brianna sitting next to him, and she smiled at him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Jason stood and moved towards the girl. They'd talked about it the day before, how he needed to show that he wasn't afraid, even if he was. Because someone had to.

He did the one thing he knew best. He sang. He focused his power amplifying his fine tenor, to fill the space, but he connected with the little girl, the way he did when he sang in a concert. He looked right at her, catching her eyes with his and smiled his most dazzling smile, while he sang, just for her…or so she thought, as he wanted.

~When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark~

Jason walked to where she was, and knelt down, taking her small hands in his own.

~At the end of a storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain~

The girl looked up at the star, and the tears slowed, forgotten in the spell of Jason’s performance. Jason laid a hand on the side of her face, and was rewarded with slight pressure into the palm, and a small, trembling smile when he wiped away the last tear off her cheek.

~Tho’ your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone
You will never walk alone.~

Jason’s smile softened and he brushed back the girl’s hair. She grabbed a hold of him, hugging him around his neck, her face wet against his shirt. The tears starting again, but without the sense of raw terror. Jason swallowed hard, never letting his smile waver. He caught Dr. Landers, and Sir Arthur looking at him. Dr. Landers nodded and Sir Arthur looked at his colleague, then back to Jason. Jason gave him an imploring look, seeking permission, acknowledgement that what he did was right. Sir Arthur whispered, knowing Jason would hear. “Go ahead, son.”

Jason let the girl go, as he stood and started walking through the group, singing. The crowd responded the way crowds always did when Jase sang. The quieted, and attention focused like a beacon on the pop star. Whenever he came across a student or faculty member that seemed to be cracking under the stress, he stopped and sang just for them, or so it seemed.

~When the lights go on again, all over the world
And the boys are home again, all over the world
And rain and or snow is all that may fall from the skies above
A kiss won’t mean ‘goodbye’ but ‘hello love’

When the lights go on again all over the world
And the ships will sail again all over the world
Then we’ll have time for things like wedding rings and free hearts will sing
When the lights go on again all over the world~

He looked around, and saw that there were more people than he thought. He saw different reactions in different people, but there were so many. His voice faltered a bit, before he caught himself. He concentrated on the mechanics of singing. Breathe in deep, through the nose, fill the lungs, controlled exhaling while singing. His own sense of panic kept in check only by concentrating on the basics. Jason sang in that unconscious spot, where the music and words were all that mattered. He’d trapped himself now. He had an audience, had the performance he could hide behind, but no stagelights to hide the audience. They were no longer a faceless, nameless mass of people hidden in the glare of the spotlight. These were friends, faces he knew. Faces that he could see, and it dawned on him, as much as he needed this, they did too. What was it he’d said to Stasi? “I’m supposed to make them feel good for an hour or two, and forget about troubles for a while.” This was too big, though, too much. He’d taken on more than he could handle. The bombs weren’t going to stop. There wasn’t any normalcy to go back to. How much good did it do? When he stopped, nothing would change, and reality would crash back down on everyone. Breathe, intone, project, enunciate. He held onto the mechanics like a lifeline. Don’t think, just sing. What did it matter, it was all a house of cards, he’d have to stop at some point, and then it just wouldn’t matter, all the songs, the smiles, the soothing music. In through the nose, don’t dry out the throat, push from the diaphragm, support the sound. Jason kept singing, trying to remember other songs from World War II, American standards, and mix them in with his own music.

Brianna saw the smile, watched as Jase worked the crowd. She’d seen this a number of times at charity events, and during shows. He was good. He was having an effect on the students. While they still had that refugee look about them, there wasn’t as much of an edge to it. She smiled and looked back at Jason, and her eyes narrowed a bit. Something was off. There was the smile to be sure, but also a slight wild-eyed look that normally wasn’t there. She realized Jason was scared.

She heard the effect that the singing was having on his voice. The songs wouldn’t suffer, but the notes were being held shorter, and he was sounding tired. She moved away from the wall that she and Jase had claimed and moved to a few other students. Jason started to sing “If I Only Had a Brain” and act out the part, stumbling around ‘bonelessly’. She laughed a little at the sight, and the other students looked back at her, almost annoyed, then back at the ‘scarecrow’ and laughed a bit too, following her example, and realizing it was okay to laugh. She moved around to another small group, and took a brush from her purse. She sat behind another girl of about 9 years old, and placed a hand on her shoulder. The girl looked back with red rimmed eyes, and Brianna held the brush up, silently, and the girl slowly nodded. Brianna started to brush the girl’s long brown hair, remembering that this used to soothe her when she was a small child, and her mother would brush her hair. It had a similar effect here, and calmed the girl. The smaller girl then moved to sit behind Brianna, and pointed to the brush. Bri smiled and handed it to her, and removed the hairpins holding her hair up, and let the girl brush her hair. Jase started to sing “Lonely Goatherd”, and Bri looked at the students near her, “I love this song!” she whispered to them. She got a few nods back. She tapped the boy next to her and motioned with a smile, “We should help with this part.” She caught the confused look and clarified “The yodeling.” The boy gave her that ‘you’re crazy’ look, but with a small grin beneath it. When Jase got to the part of the song that had him yodeling, Brianna and the boy yodeled with him. That elicited a few laughs, and the next time in the song that yodeling was called for, there were more yodelers.

As the song came to a close, Brianna walked up to Jason, pulling a bottle of Evian from her purse, and handed it to him. He took it with a smile, and took a small drink, handing the bottle back to her. “Thank you, Bri.”

When he turned to sing again, she put a hand on his shoulder, pulling slightly. He looked down at her, his panic evident. “Bri, I’ve got to keep…” She quieted him and pointed him in the direction of the little girl with the brush, who was brushing another girl’s hair. Then to smaller pockets of other people who were starting to play quiet games.

“You don’t have to. They’re doing it on their own. They just needed someone to start things off.”

She pushed the bottle of water back into his hands, and put an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to their spot. Jase slid to the ground with his back against the wall, and let his head fall between his drawn up knees, the bottle held limply by the hand that rested on them, a breath rattling out from deep within, as his shoulders shook with the silent tears falling onto the sterile bunker floor.

[Li-Mei]

She sat huddled in an alley, arms clutching her side. Eyes staring vacantly. Dripping tears, glowing like lightningbugs, streamed down her cheeks. Her glow had already faded quite some time ago. Hours? Days? Minutes? She had no concept of time. The drone of cruisers overhead made a strange counter rythm to the sounds of plasma wepons and screams. One could drown in the sea of noises, repeating over and over without end.

She focused her vision on the other form slumped near by for the thousandth time it seemed. It always took a minute to register what it was despite the number of times she'd processed the image already. A pool of red spread out from under seeming to ebb closer to her.....it had no head....

She stiffled a scream once more as the grim reality of it sank in upon her once again. Her eyes lost focus and she sank back into numbness. The same scene played out in her mind once more....

---------------------------------------

She stood there in the street, paralized by the sight of thier methodical march of death. She had fought some once, those that were left after the last war. One shot had nearly killed her then....

She saw the gun being turned toward her.

"What are you doing just standing there?!? Come on!" she heard a voice shout from nearby. Her head turned slowly in it's dirrection. "Look out!!" it shouted again. Her eyes locked upon him for a second. She could have sworn she saw a cape flapping in the wake of his motions.

She felt her body being pushed from the side at the same time she saw the flash from the gun ahead of her. She felt a burning pain in her side and a splash of wetness across her face. Red mist clouded her vision as she fell into the alleyway beside her.

Shw stared, unblinking at the blackened sky. She could feel them peering in on her. She could feel their sensors trying to detect any life signs. Until now she had cursed how her body had changed, but not today... today it had saved her life.

She pushed herself out from under the form that lay on top of her. Her tears began to flow as she realized that this was no 'hero' that had saved her, it was just an ordinary man. One of the people she had sworn to protect, yet it was he who had given his life to save her. All because she she was too scared to fight.

She slid herself up against the wall clutching the wound in her side that wouldn't heal. "Summer, where are you?" she immediatly covered her face in shame at those words. Summer wouldn't have froze up, she'd have fought back with everthing she had. She would have been able to protect him.



"I'm such a fucking coward...........'

[Tornado]

Mike didn't sleep anymore. He didn't allow it; ther ewas too much to do. He was sifting through rubble in Steel Canyon, his mind and body working so fast that most other people saw little more than a blur.

Paragon City was awesome to him. When he'd lived in Ukiah, he had just been the class spaz, never knowing when he'd freak out and go into warp speed. And his ADHD didn't make things any easier, of course. But then he'd come to Paragon, and SJS, and he'd started to get a handle on his powers.

Even more important, he made friends. Mike wasn't used to having friends. He was used to bullies, and people who barely tolerated his existence, and cold exclusion from anything social or fun. But EVERYONE was different at SJS. It made things easier, and he found out that he wasn't as bad a guy as he'd always been told he was.

And then there was the Miracle. Shelly had agreed to go to the prom with him...and they had really hit it off. Mike wasn't sure how he had survived this long without knowing her.

And then his sister had come to SJS after wanting to join the Bloodvine Academy. She'd always been a little distant, and she was still, but she was also the girl who'd come crying to his room when the giant gorilla had thrown the lions around in the original version of "Mighty Joe Young."

Mike had learned to focus, at least a little. He had learned what to do with his powers, how to make a difference and how to use them rather than letting them use him.

He picked up speed as his thoughts turned grim. Kara had shown him her scars, the aftermath of the explosion that had caused her to decide to come to SJS instead. Tears flowed out of his eyes and vaporized as they hit the blazing air outside his skin-tight envelope of friction protection. He hadn't been there for her, and then he had gone right on with his happy-go-goofy way of life and hadn't even noticed that she was hurting. They had talked; she was okay. He still hurt.

That had been just days before the Rikti. The bastards had come back, and they had come back hard. Kara was one of the first people to know. She was an empath, tuned to emotion and sensation, particularly pain. The sudden influx of fear and pain from the alien invaders had hit her like a fire hose, doubling her over and making her scream and scream...

Mike had been the first to find her, curled up on the floor of her room like that. His first thought, he remembered with crystal clarity, was that she was going to die. He had moved so fast then that the light had shifted toward red, and he had been in the medbay with her before her screams had finished echoing off the walls in her room.

Psychic overload, they told him. They had been forced to both sedate her and put a psionic inhibitor around her neck, another piece of metal to join her arm and legs. Mike had called Shelly, who was visiting her parents with some sort of ritual to bring her mom back to normal, and had cried over the phone as he talked to her. He wanted nothing more than to have her next to him so he could hold her, kiss her, smell her hair and touch her wings. Finally he hung up.

Since then...Mike had not slept. He had immediately gone to Vanguard headquarters and had signed up for the Junior Vanguard program. Then he had entered the War Zone...and things had turned dark and violent. He was used to violence, but he had never sought it out before. Now he had an enemy who deserved it, who had hurt someone he loved, and they were going to pay. There was no room for sleep in all that.

Mike had called himself Tornado Force when he'd signed up at City Hall, and the next hours had proved that he had made a good choice. He was a fury, appearing out of nowhere and dealing terrible blows to the Rikti and those who would assist the invaders. He never slept.

The Rikti had talked in English sometimes, but after a while he started hearing something in their language more and more often: "Kad'dex tor." It was shouted and whispered in fear and anger, but he heard it when he showed up. Finally, he sought out the Dark Watcher and asked him what it meant. The Watcher had stared at him for a moment and said, "Reaping Wind. That's what they're calling you out there, Mike. The aliens. They call you the Reaping Wind."

Good, thought the super-speedster. Then he'd gone out again to rescue another Vanguard officer, to take out some Rikti equipment, to...

He didn't let his fight in the war zone distract him from the rest of the city, either. Paragon was the first place that had ever felt like home, and he ouldn't let invaders take over his home. He fought the Rikti during their constant raids on different areas, and he occasionally heard his new name during those forays.

And he took hits. He wasn't a one-man army, and had never claimed to be. Mike went to the hospital again and again, but he had barely opened his eyes before he was dressed in his new armor and out the door. There was no time to sleep.

Mike sifted through rubble and searched for the lost. Sometimes he even found them. Sometimes they were even still alive. Each face, whether still or moving, ecstatic or heartbroken, reminded him that there was no time for sleep.

Kara had woken up and was going to be okay. Shelly was planning a way to come back in a few days. The city had to be worth coming back to for both of his girls; no time for rest.

The field around him stuttered as he moved another ton of broken concrete. He wasn't super-strong, but his speed helped, so there was no time for sleep.

The stuttering field went away entirely after another hour, and he was just like all the other non-powered rescue workers. Their efforts reminded him that he had no time to rest...

Mike finally collapsed where he stood, his fingers still moving restlessly through the gravel around him. The medcomm badge bleeped as it activated, and he had time to see the hospital walls before the weight of the world finally forced his eyes shut.

[Timothy Bastian]

The comm crackled in his ear. "Ready."

Timothy focused on the marker, then pulled with his magic. A moment later, a woman appeared on the stretcher in front of him. She was unconscious, which was probably best given how badly damaged her body looked. There was dried blood everywhere. She'd been buried for a while.

On to the next empty stretcher, then spoke back into the comm. "Ready."

That was the fabric of his conversations most days, lately. "Ready." A man who'd lost his legs. "Ready." A woman who'd been scorched to death. "Ready." A young boy who'd been cut in half. Two ports for that one.

Rescuing the living, retrieving the dead.

After the raids, the teleportation grid would be overflowed. It simply couldn't keep up with the high volume of patients, and even if it could have, the hospitals were at capacity. So they were setting up triage in the shelters. After the raid would end, volunteers would comb through the wreckage and tag whomever they could find. Then the porters, such as Timothy, would bring them in.

The work never seemed to end.

It was gruesome, too, seeing so many bodies that had been dragged through the Rikti's hell. He'd thrown up a lot on the first day, but that had faded quickly enough. He couldn't spare the energy for it.

"Ready." He pulled again, and a young man with long blue hair appeared on the stretcher, spines coming out of his body in seemingly random directions. Timothy stopped, stunned. He recognized this one. Tristaan Gavriel. He was a student at Saint Joe's.

The medic on duty took a look at Tristaan, feeling for a pulse, then sighed tiredly. "Deceased." He tagged the body then started to move on before noticing that Timothy hadn't moved on yet himself. "You okay, son?"

"What? Oh, I'm... fine." Timothy felt a surge of irritation at himself. There wasn't time for him to stand there staring at the dead body of a boy he hardly even knew. He nodded at the medic and moved to the next stretcher.

"Ready."

[Psyrift]

Toby--and his family--had all but given up hope. Five days since the invasion started. Five days since Simon had vanished, gone without a trace.

Just like Dad.

That was the thought that kept floating through Toby's head, the thought that was surely in his mother's and sister's heads as well, though none of them could bear to voice it. To voice it meant he was gone for good, just like Dad.

Instead, Toby scoured the city. He'd checked every hospital, shelter, and triage station he could find. He'd looked through every listing of unidentified individuals he could find. He'd dug through the rubble of half a dozen city zones, pushing his mind to its limit in searching for psychic traces of his little brother. He'd managed to find the lost sons and daughters, fathers and mothers of countless other families, but had no luck for his own.

And in between the searching, he fought. At first, he'd fought with nearly blind abandon, tearing into them without any concern for whether they lived or died, without any concern for his own safety. Until he'd seen heroes killed, despite the medcom system. Killed by blasts that melted them into their skin. Killed by blasts that tore up their bodies so badly that they were dead on arrival to the hospitals. That had sobered him some.

But it didn't stop him. He continued to fight when they came. And they were coming, again.

He could feel the earth shaking from the impact of the bombs. He could hear the raid sirens blaring in the distance. He disabled a few bombs that fell nearby as he waited for them to show up. He knew it would be soon by the way the psychic "buzz" had changed. He couldn't understand them, but whenever they came, he heard them. Like so many bees, they buzzed right at the edge of his psychic "hearing". The drop ships brought the buzz, and it got louder right before they started porting in.

It had just gotten louder. Toby braced himself as he heard the sound of a portal, undoubtedly dropping Rikti off nearby.

But there was something else. For a moment, he could have sworn he felt his father nearby, a vague impression amidst the psychic chatter.

"TOBY!!!!"

He turned, eyes going wide. His brother was running at him, as fast as his legs could carry him. Behind him, a Rikti with a large plasma gun ported away, vanishing without a trace.

"Simon!" Toby flew, meeting his brother halfway and catching him up in an enormous hug. They were both crying, and for the moment, he didn't care.

The sound of more portals opening nearby brought him back to reality.

"Simon, I need you to hold on to me tight. Wrap your arms and legs around me. I'm flying you out of here, okay?" Toby wiped his eyes and crouched in front of his brother, trying to calm himself. In response, Simon practically leaped onto his torso, his arms and legs becoming a vice around Toby's body. It wasn't comfortable, but fortunately Simon didn't weight too much--he was only nine, after all.

Toby took to the air, taking his brother to safety.

* * * * *

Hours later, Toby and Hannah sat in a corner of the shelter, away from Simon and their mother. Simon needed sleep, and their mom obviously needed some time with her lost son.

"I'm glad he doesn't remember any of it. But, I really wish I knew what had happened." Hannah turned to her brother. "Why would they bring him back? Completely safe? It just doesn't make any sense."

Toby shrugged. "I don't understand it either, Hannah."

But he couldn't put the rumors he'd heard out of his mind, rumors about people running into family members who had become Rikti. Had he seen his father today?

He didn't know, but he certainly wasn't going to mention the possibility to his family.

[Gabriel Templar]

((this is a judicious application of wonkytime, this should have happened last thursday night, but I couldn't be buggered to write anything with all my work going on.))


Rage. Pure rage.

Gabe wasn't thinking, not consciously, he was someplace else, operating on a high-octane mix of adrenaline, the combat stimulants his doctors had been pumping him full of and a deep desire to forget about what had happened to him the night before.

He felt bright, and dangerous and wicked.

Lightning snapped around him, arcing electric purple as he pumped out enough voltage for the arcs to glare high in the spectrum. Fierce electron light made him glow, like a lethal blacklight in the warzone pre-dawn. A haze of halogen-smelling ozone fuzzed out his edges.

He felt like an angel of vengeance.

He hit the Rikti platoon from the air, Voltage arcing, seeking a ground. His arms called out, raining fire from above, spattering to the ground in pools of melting metal and the oily smoke of burning plastic. A headman fell to the ground, clawing for his evacuation beacon, a Guardian fell into a convulsing heap as the Rikti's own medivac system called them home.

get back here he thought, with searing anger, cowards he angled his body down and brought himself into the fray, suddenly appreciating the perspective of an Arachnos Flier descending into The Gutter with mayhem on its pilot's mind. You're not supposed to run

With a gutteral scream he loosed everything he had, pulling from his body, projecting everything he could. The difference in potential between his electric body and the grounded earth demanding equalization. And he let go, with a primal rip it tore through him, taking the second Headman, the Gunman, by surprise, and throwing him clear, his attendants fell back.

And he was drained, nearly immobile, the world was made of rushing water, but even still his hands came up.

And Gabe didn't feel like Gabe at all.

The patterns he didn't recognize, he felt like sleeping, he had nothing left, no energy, he was slamming his combat injector, thin blue modules hitting his mainline, but they weren't doing a thing. But something made him instinctively raise his hands, throwing voltage wide, to catch the few that had survived his thunderclap. He was moving, barely registering what he was doing.

Gabe looked at his hands and thought with strange dissociated clarity this isn't me, it's only my body[/i]

[Cryogene]

Second day of the invasion

She wasn't running. People in Salamanca needed help too. There were problems here that were being ignored while every registered hero in Paragon was chasing down wave after wave of Rikti.

The Rikti that were totally ignoring this little town to the north, a town too far to see the explosions that Joni knew were probably hitting the city at that moment.

Mayor Bower was eager to have her back. He had offered her a room at the local hotel free of charge just to have her undivided attention against the fey there.

And she had taken it. And she hadn't told anyone at the school. She wondered if anyone had noticed yet that she hadn't come back.

of course not, and if they have, they're probably glad you're gone...

She would have to be precise every night. Four hours of sleep. Wake up to the alarm. Swap batteries on the belt. Another four hours of sleep. Change into her gear with the heating pads, head out for the day and let both batteries recharge in the room for the next night. There was no toaster here. If she screwed up, if she slept through the alarm for even an hour, she would wake up to a dead environmental belt and a thick layer of ice immobilizing her head to toe...

...and, surprisingly enough, she realized she'd still prefer that to heading back. Back to where Amy had vanished, probably forever.

you failed her, you failed her and then you abandoned her, you couldn't protect your best friend and now you're running from that...

To where, the morning before she went to Salamanca, she had seen a veteran hero take a direct hit from a dropship. Everything above the waist was gone before his medbadge could hope to trigger.

and then you just stood there and screamed hysterically like the cowardly freak you are, two more people wound up in the hospital because you freaked out and stopped helping, you're useless...

To where her friends were still fighting. And maybe dying.

don't worry about that, you'd never be able to help them anyway, you're a millstone and they'll be better off without having to worry about you...

She wasn't running. She wasn't a coward. She wasn't worthless.

you're worthless.

[Eddie Amplitude]

(Through use of wonky time. This happened on day one.)

Eddie walked silently through the streets of Paragon. The random thoughts of the walking pedestrians were quaint, almost boring. What was on the agenda at their jobs, what to eat for lunch, about the same as every Monday in Paragon.

He and Sam had snuck out to catch an early lunch, she stayed in the park while Eddie went to grab the food. This happened fairly often , because not only was the food from the cafeteria terrible, but the large number of thoughts from other students made it difficult to concentrate on a meal.

There was a sudden deafening rumble followed by what felt like a sledgehammer to Eddie’s chest. He staggered backwards “What the hell was that?” he thought to himself. He began to focus on the thoughts of the civilians, trying to get an idea about what was happening. They’d changed from quaint to chaotic in a matter of seconds. **I don’t want to die!**, **Oh God, please save me!**, **They’re back!** That one stuck out more for some reason, who was back?

Before Eddie could ponder it further there was another blast a few blocks away. Quickly he removed one of the backpack straps from his shoulder and ran to a nearby alley. He opened the bag to find his suit and helmet waiting for him.

He managed to change in less than a minute, leaving his street clothes in his backpack in the alley. Eddie ran into the middle of the street, eyes darting around for anything out of place. He stopped when he saw what he immediately recognized as Rikti, the sleek black armor and plasma weapon mounted on its arm were a dead giveaway. It noticed Eddie as well, it raised its arm cannon and pointed it at him.

Eddie inhaled deeply before rushing into battle.

[Blitzen]

(Ditto - DAY ONE OF THE INVASION - Noonish)

Sam tossed the ball into the air, pretending it was a pop-fly, getting under it to catch it as it traveled back towards her mitt. It was a pretty mindless action, but it helped pass the time, seeing as she was uncharacteristically early. Besides, Eddie had said he'd stop off, grab something for the two of them to eat, and who knew what kind of a line he'd run into. The grass tickled her bare ankles, but she managed to ignore it as she launched the ball once again into the air. Something stopped her from catching it, something passing overhead. The white ball thumped to the ground beside her left foot. A strange craft hovered overhead. She didn't notice several others looming in the distance. As she squinted into the light, the craft opened up a hatch, piquing her curiosity further, before something started.

Something.

Her heart jumped into her throat, her feet frozen to the ground as she watched. Time didn't move. Things around her exploded in firey fury, but she stood there, eyes glued to the sky.

The air-raid sirens snapped her back, but the feeling was worse. What the hell were they? Terrorists? Crey? Ambush? A sea of people appeared out of nowhere, panicked voices filling her ears and limbs that blocked her view, pushing towards the cities gates, and she followed, still in shock or denial of what was going on, until it hit her.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

Eddie.

He was out there, somewhere. Immediately her hand shot to her com, as she ducked out of the crowd.

"Eddie? Eddie, Ves? Bryan? Nick - Someone? There's something big and bad going on right now, and I dunno what it is, you there?" Static crackled back as the earth rocked again. She couldn't hear a thing. The raging river of people cascaded forward, looking for shelter from the incoming, but incoming what?

"Aliens!" One woman shrieked. "They're aliens!"

"It's the Rikti!" Someone else cried. "They're back!"

Sam found the panic more and more contagious. She flipped open her cell phone, but there was no signal.

"They're terrorists! Bombs, are all over the city, Trucks are filled with bombs!" Someone screamed, pointing towards a row of cars that'd been near destroyed. Sam ripped the door off the back of a nearby van, finding two people huddled inside. Not the best shelter at all, but no bomb.

"Go!" She said to them. "With the others! Get out of the city!"

"Go where?" The woman yelled back to her. "The radio says they're everywhere! They're everywhere!"

"I heard New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, they've all been destroyed already by them!" Came another voice.

"By who?" Sam called back, but fallout from a nearby building being hit took her attention before receiving an answer.

"Wendy!" Someone screamed, holding his bloodied arm. "Wendy!" Turning around she saw a panic struck man in his early 30's, looking like a refugee, clinging to a light post as he fought the crowds.

"Mister, you have to get out of here!" Sam told him, grabbing his good arm. "Go, go with the others!" She just hoped wherever they were headed was still there.

"Not without Wendy! She's my friend!" Sam thought quickly, staring at the paled man, shock deep set in his eyes as the ground shook again.

"Wait, Did you say Wendy? What was your name?"

"Paul!"

"Paul? Jeez, thank God, Someone named Wendy was asking for you a few seconds ago- she went that way. That way! See if you hurry, you can catch up to her, she's worried sick!" Sam said, nodding her head for emphasis. "Please! She's worried about you!" He nodded, let go and was swept by the flood of people. "Please let Wendy be okay." Sam silently prayed, not even knowing the woman. She hated herself for lying, but didn't know what else to do. False hope was better than no hope, wasn't it? Besides, if he'd stayed, he'd have been trampled.

She didn't know how much time had past. Police, firemen, were evacuating all the civilians, herding them towards... towards somewhere, anywhere that the ships weren't overhead. Heroes took to the air, and after what seemed an eternity the crafts were retreating. Sam had been helping the crowds, finding the chaos as big a threat as whatever was falling from the sky. She'd looked upwards, covering her eyes from the smoke and debris when the static broke on her two-way, the voice being unmistakable.

"Sam!" The voice called. And it was his voice, not any form of telepath, his real voice, scratchy, underused and the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard.

"Eddie!" She called back. "Eddie!"

"Where are you?"

"Corner of Sunrise and Vets!" She said back into the static. "Did you hear? Sunrise and Vets! Where are you?"... Static. "Eddie! Eddie!"

"Stay there. I'm on my way."

Sam planted her feet into the cement. Wild horses couldn't drag her off, and if Satan himself rose out of the ground and wanted that exact spot, she'd have fought him with every last breath to hold it.

She couldn't hear him phase into sight, but in the distance she spotted the unmistakable helmet. Still she didn't move as he edged his way through the crowd. He stopped inches in front of her and they stared at each other briefly, her heart racing with relief as she pulled him into a hug.

"Are you all right?"

"I am now that I know you are too." He replied telepathically. It was hard to understand, almost as if it was whispered.

"What's happening?"

"Rikti." He said outlolud. She knew telepathically he had to be spent, between the masses of people, and the attacks. He was dressed for combat, she could only assume he was one of the heroes who'd been part of the fight, but she couldn't find the voice to ask. "They're retreating." He said somberly. "For now."

"Rikti? They're back? Why?" She asked, her voice full of anxiety. "Is it over?" He looked around and shrugged. Paragon had become their home. Some of the students were like family, Ves, Bryan, Kali, Nick, Arkady, too many to list. The look on his face gave her his answer.

Eddie slowly shook his head no.

[Gabriel Templar]

Gabe stumbled into the vanguard post, his legs wooden and propelling him like stilts.

Another eight hours.

He could barely move as he crumpled into a chair, his bones turning to brittle gel.

"you alright there soldier?" someone looked over at him, his voice distant and dull.

"Tired... we hit the mothership again, I feel I've been hit by a truck carrying plasma."

"You want to get back out there?"

Gabe nodded, once, slowly, "yeah, yeah man, why?"

The man grinned, "combat issue 100 Dexedrine, lets get you back in the fight."

Gabe smiles, widely. He'd certainly come to appreciate the effects of combat stimulants. He barely felt the autoinjector needle strike home, a distant pinprick.

And then he was alive, again. Fire slamming down his veins as every nerve in his body fired in a synchronistic pulse. His vision unblurred itself like bringing a camera lens into focus, like flipping a computer from 800x600 to 1200x1600 resolution. He was hyperreal.

"Oh yeah." he said, feeling something distant and dark stir in him.

"you're good to go kid, now get back in the fight." someone was saying, and he was up and moving, towards the door and back into the bedlam.

[Mana Cannon]

Explosions were everywhere, ships in the air and troops on the ground. “Well Slag…I didn’t get here fast enough.” A tall metallic figure leaps down the hillside and runs off into the carnage.

“Mommy!! Mommy where are you!!” a little girl wanders around as plasma fire heats the air around her. Tripping she falls to the ground and begins crying.

“Sally? Oh my god Sally!!” a frightened woman rushes over to the sobbing child and wraps her arms around her. “Oh thank god...we have to get to the shelter…” her voice trails off as she looks up into the barrel of a Rikti energy weapon. “Oh god no…” and she cringes for the end.

The firing of energy is heard the woman clutches her screaming child. A dull ‘thump’ is heard and the woman looks up confused. The Black armor-clad Rikti is laying face down with a large burning hole on his back revealing charred gray flesh. A tall shadow was cast over the woman and metallic man smiled down at her “It’s okay, I took care of him.”

He reached down and took her hand helping her to her feet as she held on to crying daughter. “It’s okay now, here” he pulled a piece of candy from his pocket and handed it to the girl who stopped crying and sniffled out a “thanks” before hugging her mother tightly.

“Thank you…so much whoever you. God bless you.” She said with tears in her eyes as they ran towards the shelters doors.

“My name is Mana Cannon, but you can call me Raphael…”

[Psyrift]

"There's more over here!"

Toby followed the voice, quickly crashing into the next group of Rikti, their plasma cannons firing everywhere. They were endless. As soon as they'd neutralize one group, another group would pop up--half the time as an ambush right on top of them. How many soldiers could they possible have?

The scene of battle was an inferno of powers. Flames danced, ice rained down from the sky, swords and claws sliced through the air. Bright light and darkest shadow flared throughout. And amongst it all, the constant barrage of plasma.

"Behind you!"

Toby realized the warning was directed at him just in time, throwing himself into a roll that let him escape the slash of a Rikti's sword. He hadn't sensed the alien behind him. He was getting tired. They all were getting tired. He sent a telekinetic blast at the Rikti and sent him flying.

Then several Heavy Assault Units ported in. He heard a few people scream in pain, saw them fall as the fusion pulses started tearing through the chaos. A couple of them were ported to the hospital a moment later, the others were not. Toby struggled back to his feet, readying his mind and body for more battle.

And then it happened. It felt as though time stood briefly still as his mind went awash with a new presence. No words were exchanged, no images, but simply... knowledge.

It was a Kheldian.

Its host had just died.

It needed a new host.

Was he willing?

Time went unfrozen, and a plasma blast caught Toby on his shoulder. As his medcom badge activated, he responded.

Yes.

[Marlowe J. Faust]

Marlowe sat in his sanctum, an abnormal green light pouring into the room through a portal that hovered above the floor. The boy sat upon the slate floor in his human guise, he gazed into that portal.

He watched stoically as he saw a mother defend her children with a rifle as the creatures menaced their domicile. Firing wildly until her weapon was exhausted. The beings slew the young woman; judging the children not to be a threat, they moved along the street.

The hooded form peered closer into the portal as if reading fine print. He staring long into the projected image of the young boy and girl huddled against one another. They both held hatred and pain, of course, but gazing closer he saw something else…

“There!” the being scoffed. He struck the children’s name off the parchment that sat at his side. These children were not the ones he sought. Their eyes held the determination and pride that would drive their destinies. This would forge them into heroes when their yet undeveloped powers were to manifest.

Marlowe peered at the list that he had been given. Many were merely random names, in a seemingly random order. Yet there were familiar names amongst them, classmates, teachers and even the city’s champions. The majority of the names had been struck, here and there were names marked with question marks. None were left un-annotated. There were few left to observe. He slowly waves his manicured hand in front of the portal; the scene melted away and was replaced by another.

A man dressed in the couture of a hero. He knelt on a cobblestone street. The buildings behind him, seemingly European cafes in style, were engulfed in flames. A dark rain had begun falling. The man’s mask was torn, his face covered in soot and ash. He openly wept, his tears mixed with the rain soaking his face. The hero cursed the heavens.

Against his powerful chest, he cradled a boy. Already, life had left the young child. His body scorched and blackened.

Marlowe’s eyes looked out upon the scene. Yes, this one was different. Through the image; the hate and grief was palpable. This was the one he had been searching for. The man was powerful, on par with only the truly godlike abilities possessed by few on this world his loss could make him rock the heavens.

He stood before the portal and in a guttural and dark tongue muttered words long lost to most. The green light from the image slowly cleared until the picture looked as if it was a window of the clearest glass gazing out past thousands of miles. The young man reached his hands into the portal; physically stretching its dimensions until it was not a window but a doorway to another place.

Marlowe stepped through.

“Monsieur Bertrand?” the young man spoke to the weeping man. “Fulguros, Master of Thunder?” Marlowe spoke to him directly in fluent French. Concern and caring in his voice but it was also commanding.

The man look shocked to see the portal holding the young man, his mood shifted he was angry to be sharing his grief with this unknown interloper. “What!?” He returned angrily.

“Jacques Bertrand, if you would please follow me. I do believe that I can help you and your son, Arsène.” He motioned for the man to stand.

“My boy is dead! There is no helping him, except to avenge him and his memory!” Electricity crackled in the air, the charge was tangible enough for Marlowe’s fire red hair to stand on end.

“Please sir, I can help your son. If we act quickly, we can bring him back.”

The anger was flushed away from the older man’s wet face, replaced with a look of hope and awe. The man rose quickly with the lifeless form in his arms. Before the caped man could pass through the portal.

“I must warn you that there is a cost for this action, a cost you must pay willingly.”

The hulking man pushed past the young man. “I will do anything to have my boy returned to me. Anything you ask, is yours!”

“Very well.” Marlowe smiled and let the man continue into the darkness ahead on his own free will.

The portal quickly closed after the young man followed. The rain fell harder now; the torrents fell from the heavens to that desolate and empty street. Though it was drenching the blasted landscape, it could not extinguish the conflagrations. The inferno continued to burn.

[Vesper Fiend]

Invasion - Day One

With morning classes finished and nothing scheduled for the afternoon, it was a pleasant enough day to leave campus for a trip to Wentworth’s. The cool air blowing across the island of Talos seemed particularly inviting, and Ves was invigorated by the salty breeze as she flew lazily over the sundrenched beach. After a short time browsing the store, Ves found herself walking down the sidewalk, taking some small pleasure in a leisurely stroll, idly looking forward to the feeling of the rain on her face from the gathering storm. It didn’t occur to her on a conscious level that the coloring of the clouds was wrong or the smell of rain was conspicuously absent.

Out of nowhere, a burst of energy washed over her. The concussive shockwave of the blast spun her off of her feet into the grass. “What the hell?” Dazed and light-headed, she absently placed a hand over her side, wincing at the burning sensation beginning to outwardly radiate from the spot. The glove came back wet, a dark sticky liquid barely visible on the fingertips of the black leather. Turning her head, she saw a looming figure clad in black and green, familiar, but different. “Rikti? Here?” On the ground, with the plasma weapon aimed in her direction, defenses down, injured, still struggling to reconcile the reality of a Rikti openly walking the streets of Talos, Ves could only brace for the direct impact that was only moments away and hope she woke to starkly antiseptic hospital walls. ”On second thought, I hope I wake up, period.”

She flinched as gunshots rang out, and watched in horrid helplessness as the Rikti turned the plasma rifle on an unprepared police officer. Time slowed, metered out in tiny fragments with each heartbeat.

Ves struggled to get to her feet, blades of pain stabbing throughout her side as the Rikti’s gun tracked in a graceful arc. The officer’s weapon was aimed square at the alien. “No… Run!” she thought, but her voice failed her.

A single heartbeat and a staggered step brought her nearly to the sidewalk. Another sharp crack split the air. Burning powder erupted, just visible in the dim light as the firearm recoiled. Ves could almost see the insignificant lump of lead as it raced toward the Rikti and shattered on its armor. Muscles in the man’s arm bunched slightly, bringing the barrel down from its jump, once again leveling into firing position.

Another heartbeat, another step, but she was too far away. The Rikti stopped, stood motionless, its weapon pointed directly at the man. He faced the Rikti grimly, with a hint of fear etched into his sharp features. He gently squeezed the trigger. ”Get outta here!” Why couldn’t she get the words out?

Another shot. Blood rushed in her ears as Ves made it across the sidewalk. Too far. A subtle movement activated the rifle. It spat a ball of super-heated death.

A shrill, anguished scream, wild and incoherent, tinged with rage, pierced the artificial night as the officer fell. The sickly sweet stench of seared flesh permeated the air. Charred rib bones peeked from behind tissue mostly burned, partially melted away. Ves could feel the man’s lifeforce falter, fade, and then simply go out. Hollow, unmoving eyes stared at the dark clouds, and still the scream continued.

Time resumed its normal flow, bringing Ves toe-to-toe with the Rikti attacker before its weapon could be brought back to bear on her. Her small hands probably went unfelt by the armored form as they struck, but the armor couldn’t stave off the life draining effects of the shadow. Without thinking of what she was doing, she grabbed its arm, wrapping one of her own around it in a death grip, and let go of her inhibitions. The space around them blackened. Tendrils of pure night thrust from the ground and entangled the Rikti. Ves swung through the air on the flailing limb, clinging ferociously, striking repeatedly with her other hand, as the alien tried, frantically it seemed, to dislodge her and train its weapon before its life energies were ripped away and scattered to the winds.

The Rikti dropped to the hard, cold street. Vestiges of life stirred in it still as Ves released it, and slumped to the ground in a spent heap beside it. Only habit caused her to tag the alien and trigger a trip to the Zig. Only then did she stop screaming.

Her ragged breath whistled slightly. Unconsciousness threatened to rob her of already tunneled vision. Thunder resounded in her ears… No. Not thunder. Thunder wasn’t so rhythmic. Raising her eyes to the sky, Ves saw the drop ship, weapons spewing green blasts of energy into the streets, repeatedly dropping its deadly payload into the helpless inhabitants. ”No… The Rikti… An attack… Can’t be…” Her eyes fell back to the earth, back to the concrete jungle of the Talos cityscape, to the crowd now running in panicked terror from the alien menace, to the explosions of the bombs ripping through cars and buildings and people, to a young woman and child huddled beneath the tree mere yards from where she first fell.

Closing her eyes in exhaustion, her hand going again to her injured side before reaching to manually trigger her med-badge, Ves startled at a new sound. Her eyes flew open in alarm as three more Rikti stepped into the street, materializing from portals that were even now vanishing. They were facing away from her, facing the mother and her daughter, even now bringing weapons to a ready position.

”Three more,” she thought wearily.

Ves pushed herself up from the pavement, nearly passing out from the exertion.

”Three Rikti.”

The woman cried out in terror, as the child whimpered in fear.

”Three…”

Three bright, shining, sources of energy, pulsing with living vibrancy… Energy hers for the taking. Energy for healing. For fighting. “Leave ‘em alone. You can’t have ‘em.” The hoarse whisper sliced viciously through the air as she reached out to the nebulous threads binding them to this world and pulled with every ounce of will.

[Lady Kirra]

7 Days after the Initial Invasion

Elle Kirra stood like a statue amongst the fire and stone of the blown up buildings. Her father's robe flickered in the perturbed and swirling winds. Her bandanna and wig had been knocked off, burned to ash and cinders by now. Around her, hundreds of bodies of Rikti soldiers lay at her feet. Mixed in with them were the costumes of the brave heroes who'd sacrificed their lives to fight the menace selflessly. She was with them, among them. The dead had been still for quite sometime and Kirra stood alone and quiet, the whole moment, frozen still from the sheer amount of death that had occurred.

I want to be with them...

The moment shattered as Kirra lowered her head. Her blonde hair falling down around her face. She wanted to die. Her mind was silent, the single thought of being among the fallen was her only company. Elle finally sank to her knees. No Rikti nor any other who had ever attacked her had been capable of even shoving her backwards. She was an unstoppable force. She was invincible. Someone who could easily defeat anything that stood in front of her. She was a god, an invincible, unstoppable god. She hated it.

Father, I just want to die...

She fell forward, crashing to the fiery rubble of the building. Elle wanted to be dead. To be at rest and to not feel the pain of loss and sorrow any more. The situation was killing her more than any bullet ever could. She was turning hollow inside and she was loosing herself to the darkness of the world. Her innocence was being challenged by reality. Elle knew her father had lied to her. He'd told her things to keep her innocence safe. To keep her from being turned terrible by the world which seemed destined to do so. He fought the move valiant battle, protecting his daughter from everything but at the same time hurting her ability to fight her own battle. She was weak. Weaker than a baby. She was helpless to her own emotions. Tears formed on the edges of her eyes. Elle wanted to face her death, to fight something that could kill her. She had a death wish. She no longer wanted to be here on this plane of existence.

She grabbed a piece of rebar, red hot from the fire. She couldn't tell, it didn't burn her. She placed it on her stomach and gritted her teeth. She wanted to die. With a single shove the rebar bent and went off to the side. She screamed in frustration and threw the bar off into the distance not caring a single bit of its landing. She hammered her fist into the side of the building blowing the bricks into pieces no bigger than rain drops. Her yells of frustration continue, the fires fueling her rage. She pounded and pounded and ripped and crushed piece after piece of building. Anger, tears and frustration poured forth from her with each shot. The very building was nothing but dust and bits but she kept hitting everything she could. The bodies surrounding her was being buried under the rage of the wayward Elle.

She couldn't be killed, nor could she be stopped. She hated it all. The building fell in on stop of her. She still kept fighting, her rage couldn't be quenched and she pummeled onward through the rubble to the very top of the building. She emerged with an explosion of rage. Rocks rained back down to the earth like a forewarning to any not to venture further. A Rikti ship buzzed above surveying the scene. Kirra looked up from the ground, the sensors all homed in on her. The bomb bay doors opened and prepared the destroy the girl with their payloads. Elle's teeth were made bare, her anger was making her blind to all reason and for once, it was nice to let everything go. She hated her powers, the responsibility they all had to come with it seemed, the terrible, awful responsibility. She wanted to take down everything around her, to make them all understand how she felt and how she felt about them. The bombs began to fall, the fire and explosions rocked the buried and collapsed foundations of the building.

Kirra was tossed back and forth, each ensuing explosion sending her reeling into another explosion which sent her into another. The gravel and the dust began to cloud the vision. The bombing ceased and the doors closed. Elle lay on the ground, her eyes were closed. The sound of a portal opening made her stir. She raised her head and opened her eyes. The giant mechanized armored suit floated over the debris. Kirra looked down at herself, she was covered in concrete dust, rubble and rebar. She rolled over on her side slowly and pulled herself out. The Mech turned to face her. Kirra rolled over just in time to dodge the blast.

She looked around and felt a tiny slice of fear grab her from behind. The thing was huge and she wasn't feeling too angry anymore. The robot charged up another shot and took aim at Kirra. She lunged out of the way as the blast scorched a piece of rubble black. Elle turned and rushed the bot and shoved her fist into the center of the robot. It floated backward and sparked slightly. Kirra punched it again but buried her arm too deep. It took its chance and threw Kirra off to the side. She rolled through the rubble and crashed into a support beam. She looked up, pulling her golden locks behind her ear. The assault bot opened up with another double shot of plasma. Kirra rushed it with everything she had and crashed into it with her shoulder. The crunch of metal and the pop of her bone coming out of joint echoed through the dust choked air.

I can not be as noble as you are Dad... I can not be a person who does not take appropriate action against those who wish to kill.

Kirra stumbled backward, her left arm hung loose at her side. She was bleeding from her lip and her costume was getting shredded. The assault bot was cracking with electricity and struggling to move.

This dad, is my good-bye.

She balled up her right fist. The energy crackled and snapped. Elle grit her teeth and got ready for another punch. She walked up to the twitching mech, her eyes dead set on it. Her fist went back. THBOOOM! Rocks, metal and electricity exploded out the mech. She pulled back and threw another one. THBOOOM! More metal, more sparks. THBOOM! THBOOM! THBOOM! Kirra shouted at it, hitting it one last time. She struck the rock behind it.

She was out of breath, her arm was killing her and she was bleeding from her forehead. From outside the cloud of dust, a figure appeared. Kirra walked through the veil. Her skin was pale and she was breathing hard. Elle was smiling.

I’m free. Free from all of this. I can die anytime I want. There are things I can not do. I don’t know what they are but I know there’s got to be something out there I can’t win against. I hope I find it.

Elle pulled a rock underneath her and took a seat. She marveled at the destruction. The drop ship was gone, the war walls were back up and the clouds had changed from green to light light blue once again. The dust was still swirling around but it was getting blown thin. She drew a breath and closed her eyes and thought about the faces. Elle thought about the dead people. Every one of them, lying in an impromptu grave, 6 feet under and never to be moved, bombed to nothing and ultimately burned. Heroes never died in a glorious manner. Real heroes never died fighting in some grand duel. They died right here, just like that. Elle huffed a small laugh out of herself. She’d salute them but both her arms didn’t want to move both from exhaustion and injuries. So she just smiled and remembered them because that was the only thing she could do.