(Well Baker, fun is what these threads are all about. Don’t stress on mistakes too much, we’re just doing this for our own amusement, and hopefully the amusement of any others who may be just reading along.
The first of these I ever did was an X-Men story over on the boards at IGN before they became part of that site’s pay service. It was a great story and a lot of fun to write even though we never did finish it.)
*Baker - you’re on the right track - the “deranged man” is the one that attacked Julie. Rewind simply sent him forward in time - Rewind was not present for the attack. The assassin was a baseline human, but more than a little disturbed. He just happened to have been assisted by a meta. Thus, everything stays consistent. <<crosses fingers>>
Fibber - not to worry, not stressing too much, but HATE making continuity errors*
Game on!
Great! I’m glad things are more or less straightened out. I can’t do an episode now as I just got up to get ready for work. Yes, I know it’s early, that’s what a baker does. And I didn’t want to write an episode back to back. Hint, hint.
Marion slowly regained consciousness. She was lying on her bed, sunlight streamed in through the only window. She blinked her eyes as they adjusted.
She spotted Zero and a woman looking at a wall, their backs turned.
“Z… Z… Zero,” she choked out.
The pair turned to her. Zero came over as the woman went back to looking at the wall.
“No, don’t get up,” he said. “You’ve been hurt. When we found the library closed I figured something was up so I came to find you. You were unconscious lying on the floor.”
“Um… I was sleeping and I woke up and there were these shadows coming after me.”
“Shadows?”
“Yes, they um came at me. I tried to fight them off but then suddenly…”
“They attacked you?”
“Yes… no… I mean I thought so but I have vague memories of them trying to talk to me. I have the feeling they weren’t hostile. They wanted to give me a message.”
“All is not as it seems? Battle lines are not so clear?” came the voice of the woman from across the room.
“Marion, this is Cowboy Jack. She’s an associate.” The two women nodded toward each other. “She’s reading messages left on your wall. Someone cut words from your books and pinned them to your wall.”
Despite Zero’s protests, Marion stood up and walked to the wall. There were three messages spelled out in single words cut from her books.
They read:
“All is not as it seems”
“Battle lines are not so clear”
“A partner betrays a partner”
I’m still lost. What are we going to do about the entity Zero and Marion call “The Void”? Are The Void and Abyss already in cahoots?
Jeff, your post of 9/10 said the Void isn’t an official entity, but a name used to tie together a series of unexplained attacks. I suppose it could go either way now. “The Void” could just remain a label, or it could be written so that it is an entity that fits within what has now been written. You would be good at that, because, as you said in the 9/10 post, the Void and Abyss joining forces would be very bad. Perhaps “The Void” is what Abyss, in the body of Arthur Dane, then Agent Walters, went into the BEI facility to get out. Walters is hurt now, it’s unknown if Abyss is still in him or got passed on to whoever “the prisoner” was.
I think I can do something with that.
As the TV camera panned into the crater that had been the police station/BEI offices, a headless corpse appeard on screen but the little group in the Catacombs were too busy leaving to take notice. The corpse was that of a prisoner, a man named Neville Kane-Eastlake. The press had dubbed him “Nuke” for his fondness of making things explode. He had never attempted anything approaching this scale before, even small explosions made his head hurt. When the police station/BEI building went up, his head went with it.
Abyss had originally been interested in freeing Nuke but he/they became curious in a seven-foot-tall block of ice, which turned out to be hollow. Abyss abandoned his/their original plan and decided to free whatever was in the ice instead. Surely, something that had to literally be kept on ice must be very dangerous indeed. Upon merging with the smoky figure, Abyss discovered he/they got more than he/they bargained for.
At Puritan City General Hospital there was a BEI security officer posted outside the room occupied by Agent Walters. He looked up as Steve Spector and Seven approached down the corridor.
“Hey, it’s the Spook! What’ve you been doing Steve since you left BEI?”
“Oh, a little of this and that. Rich, I want you to meet a friend of mine, Mr. Seven.”
“Pleased to meet you. Now, Steve, you didn’t just come up here to see me, not considering all the hoorah going on. What’s on your mind?”
“They letting visitors in to see “Ballbuster” yet?”
“Well, not so many folks want to see him, if you know what I mean. The guy was an asshole, even if he was as smart as he was strong.”
“What do you mean, was?”
Rich looked both ways and leaned forward a little. “Well, just between friends, he wasn’t hurt all that bad, not physically at least. Cuts, scrapes, bruises and all that. Plus a hellacious nosebleed they had a tough time stopping. But the guy is just laying there like a zombie, like he had the life sucked out of him. The doctor is calling it intrinsic catatonia for now, because they can’t figure what’s wrong with him. Hey, there’s Dr. Lietz now, ask her.”
Steve and Seven saw a middle-aged, stocky woman in the usual white lab coat walking towards them. Now Seven spoke up. “Doctor Lietz, can you help us with some information about Agent Walter’s condition?”
She looked at them and frowned “I don’t know, there’s privacy and all that. Are you relatives?”
Seven put on his best sincere face, “No, Steve here was a close associate and is very concerned about Agent Walters.”
“Well, you just happened to catch me at a good time. I was just thinking that a familiar face might ‘wake him up’, so to speak. But just the one of you. Mr. ?”
“Spector, Steve Spector. Friends call me the Spook.” The two entered the hospital room where Agent Walters lay motionless on the bed.
“We’ve been trying the usual anxiolytic agents, like benzodiazipines, hoping that if this state is anxiety or fear induced that they would help. But the patient’s meta-human physiology may be interfering with results.”
Steve leaned slightly over the bed and looked into William Walter’s face, but got no reaction whatsoever. Then he had a though. “Anxiety, fear? The cause may be emotionally related?”
“The tests we have run him through have so far not found any physical cause.”
“Hmm, emotional. Doctor, I might know someone who could help.” and at that he left the room. As Seven followed him back down the corridor, Steve suddenly stopped and looked at Seven, with the first grin he had shown all day. "I just figured something out! Rich Jones, the most talkative BEI agent "just happened to be on duty. And the doctor “just happened” to need a familiar face. That got anything to do with your…?
Seven glanced down, buffed his nails on his impeccable suit, and looked up at Steve with a little smile of his own.
I don’t usually like to do back to back posts, but there is an element I wanted to introduce, so.
After most of the team had left Mack remained behind with Julie, talking quietly with her and asking questions about the details of recent events in her life. Emma, who had also been asked to stay, was no privy to their conversation, but occupied herself doing “cleanup detail”, cleaning and putting away dishes and the like. She didn’t mind doing what others might consider scutwork, because she was possessed of a quiet self-condfidence in her own abilities that was not matched by an inflated ego. She knew Mack must have had a good reason to have her stay behind and cut out the New York trip, and didn’t concern herself any further, figuring he would get around to her in his own good time.
After nearly two hours Julie and Mack seemed to be taking a break. Julie looked a little calmer thatn she had been, but still had that “fragile” feel about her. Emma never pried into people’s emotional state without permission(Not if she could help it), but some things seemed to “leak” around the barriers. Whatever the two had been discussing, now was not the time to ask about it. Instead she tried to lighten the mood by asking…
“Julie, I had something I wanted to ask, and if it’s too personal let me know, but, well, like when I asked you for your autograph, I’m such a big fan of your career, can I ask something about your wings?”
“Heck, I’m used to it. Go ahead”
“Well, when you did flying sequences in your movies, how much of that was real, or was it all wirework and special effects? What I’m trying to say is, can you really fly?”
Julie made a little laugh that was part groan “People always want to know that…”
“Oh, dont’ answer if it bothers you!”
“No, that’s not how I meant it. It’s just that my former agent and publicist always wanted to keep it a mystery, but they bailed on me after the stalker, so I don’t care about it anymore. The answer is no, I can’t really fly like I did in the movies. I don’t have enough bone structure or muscles for it, although my shoulders are broad for my height and my pectoral muscles *are * tough. I can however flex them out, let them spread. And once they are out I can hold them rigid and do a sort of glide for short distances. Once even, when I started to fall before a stunt, the adrenaline rush let me beat them once or twice and broke my fall. But if you were to drop me out of a plane, or a helicopter say, I’d probably hit the ground like a sack of wet cement.”
“Well, thanks, I didn’t want ot get overly personal, but I found I couldn’t resist asking.”
“No problem. Now, there was something you once said, and Mack mentioned again just now, about helping me with my feelings, and the nightmares. Would now be a good time? Mack is a little concerned I could get overly stressed, with all that has happened.”
“You won’t mind if I need to “manipulate” you, so to speak? And before you ask, I never divulge, without permission, anything I might learn from a client while I am dealing with them, no more than a doctor breaks confidentiality, or a priest the silence of the confessional.”
“Emma” said Julie "Mack said we are a team, and I want to try and pull my own weight. This way is better than tranquilizers. "
As they left the room a phone shrilled and Mack answered it, noting that the call was from Steve and Seven.
Continuing with Jeff Olsen’s plotline. Hope I don’t screw it up for him!
Abyss had never encountered a mind quite like the one it had taken on before the destruction of the BEI building. Whatever the evolution of Abyss itself it felt that it was of terrestrial origin, and all the minds/souls it had touched/captured were similar in configuration. This being had truly novel pathways, neurons, synapses. In short, it thought differently. Abyss hated to guess, but it’s conclusion was that the ice creature was really alien, as in not evolved on Earth.
And it didn’t like it’s captivity by Abyss anymore than it had liked being on ice. Only because it was lost in this world, and still rather, well, groggy, for lack of a better term, did it tolerate the lack of control. Even in that area Abyss had not made a total victory. The alien was not free, but it had not lost it’s personality to it’s captor. Therefore Abyss did something it had not done before it all it’s long history. Abyss made a deal.
You are not human but you are powerful, a meta amongst your own kind?
Yes. Release me.
** Not now. It would not help you, but I/we still could**.
Speak further.
Tell me of yourself.
There is very little to tell that would be of use to such as yourself. I came to this world encased in an artificial meteorite, purely by chance. I was banished by my own people.
Why?
I remember little of the days before my banishment. Scientists, they did experiments on me. The result was not what they were expecting. My body composition changed, become more like a liquid than a solid.
The ice.
Yes. It was the only effective means by which the humans could keep me captive. I friegten them. What I can do, it frieghtens them.
What can you do? Your resistance, it makes it hard for me/us to get a read on your abilities.
The lifeform held up its hand, and as Abyss watched through the creature’s own eyes, the hand began to flow and change, slowly at first because the creature was still recovering from its deep-freeze imprisonment, but with swiftly growing speed.
You are a shapeshifter.
I am more.
The hand flowed out to the bars which had acted as a second barrier to the ice, kept frozen by directional environmental controls until Abyss, in the form of “Ballbuster” had pounded the block into so many ice cubes. As Abyss watched, the substance of the hand joined with the bars, merging with the metal, parting them, bending them, warping them.
You are an omnimorph. Abyss said, its growing admiration for the talents of this creature palpable.
I am MORE.
More?
“Hey, who’s there, what’s going on?” as a sleep muddled voice from another cell across the room.
Watch
The creature stepped through the twisted bars of its cell even as the substance of its arm snaked outward in tindy tendrils, entering the other cell and attaching themselves to the man within.
“What the hell?” the man shouted. “What is this? What’s going on?”
The man quieted as the tendrils bored into his skull.
I control him now.
I can sense his power through you. He can provide an effective means of escape. Are you well enough to change your form more fully?
I am recovering rapidly.
Take the form of that one, my/our previous host. It will get me/you/us upstairs, and the we can use this puppet’s power to effect our escape and leave chaos in our wake.
And then?
And then, I/we pay a visit to an old friend.
I don’t really have anything to contribute to the story at the moment. Just adding some background atmosphere.
In the Mayflower Hill section of Puritan City, Déjà Vu was observing a normal teenage girl. At least, what was considered normal for the only child of one of Puritan City’s wealthiest families. Given to random bouts of pychic visions, Déjà Vu knew this girl would be dead by her own hand by next morning unless something was done. You see, the girl was simply unable to understand why, with all her family’s money, she had to work for a living. She was often heard yelling at her mother that the only employment opportunites being open to her were in the fast food joints downtown.
Déjà Vu saw her chance. The nice man from down the street, a 30-something photographer and filmmaker, was stopping by for a visit. She used her influence to get him to talk to the mother. She wouldn’t listen.
Well, that didn’t work.
She hated to resort to injuring someone in order to save a life but Déjà Vu didn’t see any other way. The photographer knocked down by a bakery truck while crossing the street. Déjà Vu had kept him from being too severely injured but he would need some help while he recuperated. He hired Sanji as his assistant and housekeeper on the spot. As Déjà Vu went on her way, she noticed that Sanji was already on the phone with her friends and yakking about her new job.
“Mack, I have an idea” said Steve, when the phone had been picked up. “Seven sort of helped me get in to see Walters, and I learned something that could be of interest. He’s laying there like a zombie, totally out of it. The doctor is calling it catatonia for now, saying it could be emotionally related. He wasn’t hurt all that badly.”
Mack’s mind latched onto this new report, that reminded him of the others he had heard of lately, particularly Boozehound. Could this be another? “That’s extremely interesting. Did you have something in mind?”
“Well, if Emma Fetzer could get in to see him, maybe if it is emotionally related she can bring him back from wherever he’s gone… We might learn something. I don’t know what all she can do though.”
Mack considered this option. He knew about Emma’s ethics, how she would “operate” only with clear consent from those she dealt with. “I’ll put the idea to her, but it may have to wait a little, Emma’s working with Julie just now.”
“Well, I’ll wait here for a while yet then, and keep Seven with me. He’s come in handy, that’s for sure. Let’s stay caught up though, I don’t think we can afford to wait all that long.”
“I unerstand” and Mack put the phone down, thinking long and hard.
Continuing my atmosphere from earlier.
As Steve and Seven waited to hear back from Mack, Agent Jones had a short conversation with a hosptial custodian. Then he motioned for Steve. “Hey, did you hear? They just brought in Erik Syversen!”
“The guy who runs Valhalla Pictures? What happened?”
“Got hit by a truck.”
“That’s odd, considering the local population.”
“Well, he didn’t seem to be hurt very bad. They probably just want to run some routine exams then send him home.”
Marion shook her head, both to clear it and to indicate she had no idea what the words on her wall meant. A number of her ordinary books had been tossed around and cut up, and she could see no significance in the print.
“Well, for not it’s a mystery to me what that means. Especially the part about betrayal” she said.
Zero and Jack looked at each other, wondering what, or how much to say, about Mack’s alliance. Zero spoke up first.
“Marion, in case you are wondering, Jack and I stopped by because we are on our way to, of all places, Harvard University. We’re on a sort of, well, mission for the lack of a better term.”
Marion’s eyebrows quirked upwards, and in a dry tone she replied “Mission? Sounds all so hush-hush. What do you want with me?”
Zero went on “Those list you found? They may have some relation to a …case… some of us are working on. We could probably use your input. We can tell you more if you can come with us to Harvard to see Prof. Ispep.”
“Ispep? Irving Ispep? Why didn’t you say so? You know him? Just give me a minute to stuff some things in a bag and I’ll be ready. I have some time off coming anyway.”
As Marion bustled around getting ready to leave Jack leaned over to Zero and, in a low tone asked “Have you ever heard of the guy? He’s a blank to me.” Zero shook his head in the negative, wondering what had Marion so excited.
“Come on, let’s go!” she urged, and the trio left the library for a quick trip to Massachusetts.
The King of Clubs arrived at the address the customer had given him over the phone. He knew something was wrong and it didn’t take a sixth-sense to come to that conclusion: the building was abandoned. Even from a block away he could tell. It was possible there really was someone within awaiting delivery of their food. - he’d delivered to some weird places in the past, it came with the territory in the PC - but something about the entire situation was giving him a weird vibe.
“To hell with it,” he muttered to himself, “No tip is worth this.”
As he began to turn around and pull away on his motorcycle, he was stopped by a voice that sounded like the buzzing of a thousand angry wasps, a voice he’s know anywhere.
“Hello, Edgar.”
His every instinct was screaming at him to get away, to run, but he just couldn’t. Pulling a pair of dark glasses from an inside jacket pocket and slipping them on, he turned and said, “Hello Abigail, it’s been a while, hasn’t it.”
** “I/We no longer go by that name. Abigail Syssto is dead, I/We am/are Abyss, now and forevermore.”**
The King nodded sadly. He didn’t recognize the body the thing that had once been his ex-fiancée was currently occupying; just another poor meta-schmuck handed a one-way ticket to comaville. He was afraid he knew why Abigail had looked him up though.
“You’re looking for Mother.”
The answer to that question was so obvious that Abyss didn’t even bother answering, didn’t even nod in acknowledgement, just stared straight ahead at him.
“Well, you can’t get control of me, not while I’m wearing these,” he said, pointing at the dark glasses he was wearing. “If you want Mother you’re gonna have to look elsewhere.”
“I don’t think so,” Abyss replied, as the body it inhabited began to warp and change, thin tendrils snaking out towards him.
He had no time, no time to run before the tendrils wrapped around, digging into his brain, extracting the information Abyss needed. When it was done, Abyss threw the King’s lifeless body aside and got onto his motorcycle, the alien body it inhabited already changing to assume his form.
“Julie”, said Emma, I don’t think we are going to have time for a full session here, like I would do in my office. It sounds as if Mack expects things to start happening really fast, and we may all need to be free to move."
“Well” said Julie nervously “I’ve never faced someone like you before. Do you read my mind or what?”
“Heavens no, a telempath is not quite the same as a telepath, and the true telepath is rare. What I do is probe throught your mind, feeling the emotions there. I can sense not your current emotional state, but, if you recall strong memories, I can sense the emotions from them. That’s the empath part. In return I can project an emotional state that could counter something harmful. Like countering fear with a sense of security, anger with a sense of calm, and so on.”
“Can you help me not be so edgy?”
“I can make a start. Hopefully we can continue at a more convenient time.”
The two women were sitting on floor cushions in a small bedroom used by Catacomb occupants. Emma continued.
“Just relax, you’ll hardly even notice anything unless I have to “push” hard, and I doubt I will. You don’t even have to concentrate or anything, just think about whatever you want.”
Emma began probing gently into the mind of the former film star. As she expected a current of fear, or disquiet, was dominant, but she was also surprised that Julie seemed to lack a sense of self confidence. She might have expected an actress to have more ego, or sense of arrogance as well, but those were not found. Once Emma thought Julie must be thinking of a memory, as she felt extreme anger and hate. The strength of the latter was a shock, but it was also old.
For her part Julie felt light “touches”, but they weren’t painful, physically or mentally. She began to relax again, it seemed a cloak of calmness pervaded her, and when Emma had withdrawn Julie was very surprised to look at a clock and see that two hours had passed. She actually seem to feel happy.
“Is that it?”
“For now it is. I wonder if we could get a snack, it feels like more hours than two since breakfast.”
Julie actually laughed outloud at one of Emma’s foibles, and they got up to go look for something. Suddenly they heard the voice of Mack down the hallway, hollering for them.
“Both of you! Get in here! I just got a new call from Steve and Seven. There’s some kind of commotion going on at the hosfital. The Spook didn’t have time to say much, but he said if you can come, Emma, he needs for you to get on over there. He wants for you to try something.”
“I’m on my way.”