More News!

It's November 2. Yesterday I set up a blog and an account for National Novel Writing Month.

For the month of november, I'll be trying my damnedest to write 50,000 words of a book centered on the activities of Jacob Absolom, Stephen's father. The book is set when Jacob is a young man, several years before Stephen's birth. The proposed named of the book is Solomon.

A link to the blog I'll be posting chapters to can be found here.

Wish me luck!

News and updates

You may have already noticed the addition of my Purdue webspace to my sidebar. As anyone who reads this site knows, the Words of the Drewcifer updates very rarely and erratically. Furthermore, finding a fully developed story on here is something of a crapshoot.

The purdue website, More Words of the Drewcifer, is a new project of mine. It is my outlet for telling a complete and ongoing story. A new chapter of "Aldain" is posted every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. As of this post, 10 chapters have been posted. Furthermore, every Sunday I check in and tell you how work on the Solomon Saga is progressing. If you like my writing, I strongly urge you to check it out.

That said, this site is not being abandoned. It will not be posted to often, but it wasn't really in the first place. Just because I have a goal and a focused writing project doesn't mean that random writes won't come out of my head sometimes.

Happiness

My hands and notebook smell of ink. My mind is alive, writing even when I have no pen, no paper. Is this what it feels like? Hopefully I don't fly in such a way as to stall. But I'm not that high yet. A fall will cause a few bruises, a couple of scrapes. I'll get back in that flying machine if that happens.

My hands and notebook smell of ink.
-The Drewcifer

I'm Ready!

Saturday I was genuinely useful as one of the only veterans who decided to show up for dinner shift. It felt surprisingly awesome to clean a jillion things.

I kind of feel like just writing something beautiful, so I'm gonna try it.

-The Drewcifer

Writey:

By the time you read this, I'll no longer love you.

Falling in love is easy for me. Falling out is even easier.

To know nothing but uncertainty is my apparent destiny. Oscillation and indecision are my anchors, my grounds. And yet don't think I'm unhappy. I'm not. My life is good, though too much of my time is spent worrying about it ending. Cessation scares me as much as continuation. Eternity fills my eyes with tears, my stomach with bile, and my heart with a longing for my parents.

Sometimes you just want someone to hug you and say it's going to be okay, even though you know they're lying.

Sometimes I think the loneliness is what gets to me. When I've got someone there beside me, it's easier to cope with Infinity. Lady Ifni's a cruel bitch to those who try to ken her.

But I'm not unhappy. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm a genuinely happy person. I don't think that makes it to the page as much as it should. I don't cry after breakups because I'm bad at being sad.

By the time you're gone, I'll love you again. Chasing what I can't have. It's a common curse.

My words are my only chance. They're the only way I can keep living and my continual resistance to them, to learning to use them, to flailing away at something else, does a disservice to everything I am or ever will be. The scientist in me will have to get his fill from elective courses, Scientific American, Science, and Nature. I just don't see any other way.

I've come to a strange compulsion that if I go to Japan someday, everything will be okay. Funnily enough, from what I understand that's exactly the way a lot of Japanese kids and adolescents feel about America. Intellectually, I know it's not a realistic expectation, but god damn it, I'm gonna try.

My parents teach. My Aunt teaches. My Uncle teaches. My cousins teach. My Great-Aunt taught. My Grandfather taught. Teaching is in my blood.

"And all I taste is blood between my teeth."

-Andrew

----------------
Now playing: Jack's Mannequin - I'm Ready
via FoxyTunes

Sweet Death

This story is dedicated to Kyle A. DeJute.
-The Drewcifer

Story:

A sweet death. That was the most she could do for him at this point. A sick sense of nostalgia washed over Amelia as she shushed her dying lover. Gently, oh so gently. Finger pressed silently to her lips, she drew the razor blade across his throat.

She shuddered at a remembered feeling as his remaining life leaked from his neck. Guilt, mingled with arousal, mixed with more guilt caused by the arousal. Another shudder as she relived all the times she'd done this before. All the men and women she had truly loved during their last moments on this Earth.

Amelia stood and closed her eyes as she sucked on her blood-soaked fingers. She shook with silent pleasure as the taste filled her, savoring the fear, pain, and relief imparted to the blood by those precious final beats of the heart.

When she opened her eyes, she nearly gagged. Amelia was back asleep, only Alison Meyers was here to deal with the current situation

Before her lay a man, mutilated from the waist down. The skin and, when possible, muscle had been meticulously peeled back and used to pin him to the ground with steel stakes, spread-eagle. Great care had been taken to ensure no major blood vessels had been breached. While his torso was untouched, his arms had undergone a treatment similar to his legs. They too were filleted and staked down.

Trees to provide shade, care to avoid unnecessary blood loss. Whoever had done this clearly meant for this man to suffer for a long time. Until Amelia had intervened.

Alison wasn’t sure where Amelia came from, or when exactly she became aware that she, Alison, was two women. It had been a gradual thing. All she knew was that Amelia knew how to find people They were torturing and free them. Invariably, Amelia loved them, kissed them goodnight, and sent Alison back out to deal with the real world.

Alison got out her notebook and recorded the position, method of torture, location, and so on. She concluded her entry with Amelia’s method of dispatch. That was how the two of them worked. Amelia found them and freed them. Alison observed and looked for clues.

The scariest thing, reflected Alison as she made the long walk home in the fading afternoon sun, was the feeling she got that They were watching her. That They knew how she and Amelia were interfering with Their plans. And They didn’t like it either. How long would They let her continue? How long before They would strip her flesh and leave her to die?

Alison shook her head to clear the thought. She allowed mundanity to distract her. What would she have for dinner? Something vegetarian. No meat after what she’d just seen.

Alison walked into her apartment, flicked on the lights, and made her way into the kitchenette. After the first few times Amelia had come out, she had learned that forcing herself back into normalcy as soon as possible was key to staying sane.

Alison retrieved some carrots and celery from the fridge and laid them out flat on the cutting board. As she reached for the knife rack, she noticed one of the knives was missing from its place. Odd. She must’ve put it in the washer or something. No matter, she had what she needed for now.

She chopped up the carrots and celery, tossed them in a bowl with some grapes and lettuce, and called the whole thing a salad. Feeling no need to impress, her salad became a finger food as she sat on the sofa and turned on the news. Alison never knew how long she’d been Amelia. Memories only crossed over from the time Amelia found one of Their victims until she put Alison back in charge, never the actual search process.

She watched the news with half-interest, munching on her salad. Already the ghastly memory was starting to fade.

The newswoman’s face changed to a more serious expression for her next segment.

“In other news, police are still searching for Albert Craig, a local man who has been missing for three days. Craig, 27, was reported missing Tuesday. . .” And so on. The report continued, and a picture of the man was shown.

Alison was utterly unsurprised to find that the man in question was, in fact, the very same man Amelia had freed from Them only a few hours ago.

That meant she’d probably been gone for a little less than three days herself. Amelia was uncannily prompt about knowing when a victim had been taken.

She glanced at her page-a-day calendar to confirm.

Five days. She’d been Amelia for almost five days. Before he even went missing.

No. Please. No.

Dread seized Alison, like ice through her heart. She stood on unsteady legs and made her way to the counter, where she'd placed her purse when she came in.

No. Please.

Slowly, she reached into her purse, already knowing what she’d find.

There it was; the missing knife. A long, thin, sharp blade: A fillet knife. And it was caked with dried blood.

Oh God no.

Please.

No.

I Shall Draw Power From the Bones of the Dead

1.

From the Journal of Stephen Absalom

When I was younger I had a single prophetic moment. Touring a museum with my friends, marveling at the remains of the great beasts of the past, I spoke without thinking.

“One day, I will draw power from the bones of the dead.”

I was a little stunned, I'd meant to comment on the majesty and power of the beasts, but had instead said that. I shrugged it off, but never fully forgot it.

Growing up, Stephen was vaguely aware that his father, Jacob, was an exceptionally cruel and uncompromising man. Despite this, Jacob had always been a kind and good father to Stephen and so Stephen didn't mind too much. Jacob was a magician, specifically a demonologist: gaining power by binding demons and bending their souls and wills to his. Cruel people are the only ones who make it very far in that line of work.

Given his reputation and methods, Jacob made many enemies. Stephen watched assassin after assassin assault his father and be utterly destroyed. He, like many children, thought his father was the most powerful man in the world. Unlike many children, there were likely times when he was right. When Stephen was seventeen, however, his father proved to be vulnerable after all.

A group of assassins, both magical and mundane, assaulted Jacob in his home. A combination of luck and preparedness allowed them to succeed where others had failed.

Jacob gave Stephen instructions to run. And run fast. In the meantime he sacrificed himself to destroy most of the attackers.

Unfortunately, two of the assailants had followed Stephen out of the house and were therefore not destroyed by the explosive death-throes of the magician.

Stephen did as his father told him. He ran. He ran as fast as he could for as long as he could. Seeing the two men close behind him only further motivated him.

He ended up in a graveyard. Headstones, ancient and faded, littered the ground, blocking his path, causing him to stumble. Eventually, he fell fully flat.

The two men closed in on him. Both were of average height, though one was noticeably buffer than the other. The leaner man pulled out a switchblade, the blade emerging with a thwick as he advanced on Stephen. He smirked a little as he stared down at the boy.

“It's nothing personal, kid. You just had the wrong daddy.”

Staring death in the face Stephen remembered his words from many years ago. He reached out with his mind, feeling the bones below him.

Come to me, he thought. Lend me your strength for a while.

Tiny black tendrils emerged from the grave beneath Stephen, gently caressing his face and body. They crept up and snaked into his eyes turning them a pitch black color.

Meanwhile the thugs were not reacting well to this. They both took a step back as this transformation suddenly affected their supposedly helpless quarry.

“What's he doing Joe?” asked the bigger one, visibly nervous.

“I don't know!” the smaller man responded. “But I think I'm gonna kill him before he pulls off some trick he learned from daddy.”

The lean man, Joe, lunged. Stephen raised his arm, tendrils of blackness snaked outward, intertwining and forming a point. Joe impaled himself on this structure as tendrils issued from Stephen's other hand and plucked the knife from his assailant's hand and brought it to his own.

The spearlike growth retracted into the darkness now swirling around Stephen. The boy rose and stepped over to Joe and looked down at him. He raised his hand to point at the remaining attacker, who was just beginning to run away. Inky tendrils emerged sinuously from around Stephen's arm and ensnared the bulky man, snaking around his neck and slowly squeezing the life out of him.

Stephen spoke to the rapidly dying Joe. “It's nothing personal. You just tried to kill the wrong kid.” And he reached down and slit the assassin's throat with his own blade.

For Time Out of Mind

I wrote me a poem. This was written during my Chemistry lecture. I had listened to the first half of The Hush Sound's second album: Like Vines. I was not listening to them when I wrote this, but some of their style and imagery was an influence. Here goes nothing.

For Time Out of Mind

I wept in darkness for time out of mind
I knew no light, forgot my sight
The world was blank and frightening
Then I saw her there, a light, a flare
I knew illumination once more
I knew what I'd lost once more
Like a beacon was she
I approached fearfully
And I bathed in light eternal glorious
Wonderful, awful, Glorious and terrifying
My atrophied eyes begged for mercy
But I was enthralled and terrified
My world of darkness was there still
She knelt, hands folded and praying
Holy and good
Holy and good and utterly terrifying
The light she channeled showed my every sin
revealed and reflected, exposed
My revelation was complete
The darkness was mine, the darkness was me
The light I rejected
My eyes I destroyed
I fled
As I'd fled before, this time knowing
No saying I'd wandered, no claim of unintendedness
And yet
No matter how I ran, still shone she bright
The only light in darkness
And she sang a song
A sweet psalm
A melody of forgiveness
An aria of grace
My ears nearly bled at the sounding soft song
The whispers of madness and self-centered sobs
Were all they had known
For time out of mind
The price was so steep
Too deep
More than my means
The price was nothing
Freely given, never earned
The light reached out and kissed me
As it touched my skin, my sin started to burn
I screamed and I writhed
Emerged from the ash
My body and soul
Purged clean at last
I tremblingly stepped towards my beacon
My Goddess
She rose Right and Regal
Beneficent, beautiful
Again I wept, as long I had
For time out of mind.

I haven't written in a while

My family home here in Kokomo seems to have a detrimental effect on my ability to write. I felt like doing a little cast page for the Graphic Novel project I've been working on with Whitney. So, a brief and spoiler-free cast list follows. This may get a little repetitive since I'll be including some general terms as well as specifics. As I write this it seems to become more of an explanation of how the supernatural order of this world is organized. Which is good, I think.
-The Drewcifer

Warden Angel: Often shortened simply to "Warden." An angel charged with policing the actions of Outsiders on Earth. Technically both angels and demons are capable of holding the position of Warden.

Demon Hunter/Demon Slayer: A mortal agent of an angelic Warden. These individuals have lives steeped in violence and pain. Many of them are only good at causing death. As such, they find salvation by directing their killing towards a righteous purpose. Well versed in the Celestial Edicts and merciless when dealing with those who break them, Demon Hunters are rightly feared by unsavory Outsiders. Because of the energies their bodies are infused with, Demon Hunters are capable of living forever if not killed.

Outsiders: A collective term for any supernatural creature that walks the Earth, especially ones the the Wardens and Demon Slayers are charged with policing. This includes Demons, Chimeras, and others. The Fae are, to some extent, considered Outsiders. However, they lie outside the jurisdiction of both Heaven and Hell. Since Outsider is generally a term reserved for those bound by the Celestial Edicts, the Fae are often considered to be in a category all their own.

Celestial Edicts: The laws and regulations that govern creatures of both Heaven and Hell. Contrary to what most mortals will believe upon first learning the of their existence, the Edicts do not favor angels over demons, nor do demons disobey the Edicts. The Edicts are distinct from the Laws of Heaven. The Laws of Heaven include relevant portions of the Celestial Edicts, but have many rules and regulations not covered in the Edicts. It is for rebelling against these laws that angels are cast out of Heaven and become demons.

Chimera: A subclass of Outsider, specifically a supernatural creature of limited intelligence. Though smarter than normal mortal animals, these creatures cannot be called sentient. Feral Chimera which are discovered by Demon Slayers are generally executed on the spot, to prevent them from potentially harming a mortal. All Chimera are bestial, though not all are quadrupedal. More intelligent Outsiders will sometimes create or import them as pets. According to the Edicts, both the Chimera and its owner are responsible for any breeches of the Edicts the Chimera may commit.

Fae: The Faeries, Fairies, Fair Folk, and many other names. These creatures are as varied as they are mysterious. Not fully bound by the Celestial Edicts, yet not fully outside of them, the Fae add a chaotic and unpredictable aspect to anything they are involved with.

Meriel: Meriel is an angel. A servant of God, Adonai, the Name, or whatever euphemism is your favorite. She is one of several (but relatively few) Wardens: angels charged with policing the actions of Outsiders on Earth. She began delegating this duty near the beginning of the first century CE. Demon Slayers sponsored by Meriel take on names which are ordinal forms of latin numbers (Primus, Secundus, Tertius, etc). She is currently on her sixth hunter.

Sextus: Meriel's current Demon Slayer. His past is shrouded in mystery, even more so than your average Demon Slayer. He wears a half mask that conceals the right half of his face at all times. His sword is chained to his wrist, and there are various locks on his clothing. All-in-all more unusual than even his peers, who are a strange lot to begin with. The power he wields manifests itself as golden motes which coalesce into different shapes and structures as he desires.

Quintus: The previous hunter employed by Meriel. After a series of complicated events, he has resigned his mantle as a Demon Slayer, preferring to retire to a quiet life, though he still struggles with a certain darkness he picked up during his career as a slayer. Quintus's power manifest as "soulfire," blue flame which burns only that which Quintus desires it to. Though he has retired, Meriel still keeps a wary eye on Quintus. She regards him as something of a loose cannon.

Harlequenne: A Fae, sublcass Pixie. This mischievous trickster hangs out with Sextus. No one is sure why.

Anne-Marie Thompson: A Private Investigator and an "Interpreter"-class psychic. Anne-Marie has second sight that allows her to distinguish Outsiders from normal mortals. She helps Sextus gather information and identify Edict-breakers. She is also in love with Sextus.

I'm all kinds of ironic

I have a new writing playlist called "Iris Wynter." Naturally, the first thing I wrote with it playing had nothing to do with Iris. The beginning of this story was inspired by a picture from DeviantArt. Linky
-The Drewcifer
Playlist:


Vikingman 4:03 Rodrigo y Gabriela
PPA 4:14 Rodrigo y Gabriela
Love Addict 2:52 Family Force 5
Replace Me 3:34 Family Force 5
Silas Denver [Dead or Alive Bounties Mix] 1:52 Andrew Blatt
Tank! 3:29 Seatbelts
Mountain of God 3:54 Third Day
Satori 5:04 Rodrigo y Gabriela
Masked Madman 4:43 Andrew Blatt
Furious 4:03 Z-Trip
Lose Urself 3:10 Family Force 5
Bright Lights 3:54 Matchbox Twenty
Kremlin Dusk 5:13 Utada Hikaru
About Face 2:51 Z-Trip
Take Two Copies 4:24 Z-Trip
Fun With Strums 2:03 Andrew Blatt
Broken (Featuring Amy Lee) 4:18 Seether & Amy Lee
Softer 1:24 Andrew Blatt
Orion 7:44 Rodrigo y Gabriela
Necromancer 2:15 Andrew Blatt
Daisy 4:18 Switchfoot
Diablo Rojo 4:56 Rodrigo y Gabriela
Session 2:24 Linkin Park
Kyur4 Th Ich (Chairman Hahn) 2:32 Linkin Park
3rd Gear 3:52 Z-Trip
Stop the Future 2:06 Epoxies
Follow the Leader 2:18 Andrew Blatt
Silas Denver [Reno Gun Control Mix] 1:16 Andrew Blatt
Stairway to Heaven 4:44 Rodrigo y Gabriela
Juan Loco 3:27 Rodrigo y Gabriela
Cure for the Itch 2:37 Linkin Park
Tamacun 3:25 Rodrigo y Gabriela
Ixtapa 5:14 Rodrigo y Gabriela
Suddenly 3:35 Superchick
Instabilities 0:21 Andrew Blatt

Story:

Sweat ran down my face and into my eyes as a I ran, footfalls clattering loudly on the wooden planks of the bridge. My breathing was growing ragged, phlegm was starting to block my airways. My legs were alternating between feeling like fire and just plain not feeling. I'd never been this exhausted in my life. But if I stopped, I'd die.

It's funny how well that can motivate you.

I didn't have time to even glance over my shoulder, but I didn't need to. The sound of footsteps behind me was still audible over my own, and I could tell that if something didn't change, and soon, they'd catch up to me.

My eyes darted around, but my head stayed immobile. The river wasn't very far below me, but I was too tired to swim now. It might have been feasible before I'd gone with running, but I was pretty much landbound now. I'd rolled the dice on that one. Time would tell if it came up eleven or snake eyes. Right now it was feeling like the latter.

Still, I could feel something tugging at me, urging me to just follow the bridge. That little voice in my head had saved me many times before this so I wasn't about to start ignoring it.

The bridge curved up ahead, disapearing into trees. I ignored the fact that I couldn't see, breathe, or even run properly and pushed harder. Something told me that if could make it around that bend, I'd be okay.

My company wasn't slowing down either. That fear of death was working wonders for my stamina, but I still wondered what was driving my pursuer.

I rounded the curve and found the energy for one last sprint. I emerged from trees to find myself staring at a graveyard.

Bingo.

I stepped onto a grave and turned. Apparently my little boost had actually allowed me to actually pull a bit further ahead. My attacker came into view, pushing through the trees. He was obviously surprised that I had chosen to stop; so much so that he actually stopped for a split second. Then, of course, he smirked. They always smirk.

"So, you finally decided to stop running. That will make things easier." As he gloated, I got a good look at the man who had been chasing me. He was unlike what I was used to dealing with. Normally I get threatened and chased by the suit-and-shades type. Nameless agents of a nameless agency, that sort of shit. This guy was something new. White polo shirt and nice slacks. Looked like he should be golfing, not chasing innocent young men.

Okay, so maybe I'm not as innocent as I like to pretend, but certainly killing me is a bit much.

The man continued with his little speech. "You've caused my master quite a bit of headache, Stephen Absolom. I don't know what it is you do, or how you do it, but I do know that Lambda wants you dead. And what Lambda wants, he gets."

So far, not so scary. The guy looked like he'd have a hard time roughing up a seventh grader. That's when the air around him got all fucked up. Darklike, shades of red and black surrounded his body. Suddenly there it wasn't a dude in a polo shirt standing in front of me. No, it was what looked like a genuine, grade-A demon standing there.

He had the whole look down. Burning red eyes, body looking like it was made of shadow. Huge wings of fire and darkness sprouting from his back, the whole shebang.

But he had made two fatal mistakes. The first was that he let me catch my breath. My lack of concern must have been pretty apparent on my face, because he actually commented on it.

"What are you smirking about? You've killed six of our people already. I'm not just going to kill you. I'm going to make you suffer. You have nothing to smile about."

Right about then I allowed myself a full-fledged smirk. I felt I deserved it. He was right. I'd killed every man that Lambda had sent after me so far. And that was why none of them knew how I'd killed them.

The second mistake he had made was letting me catch my breath in a graveyard.

Now it was my turn to make the weird shit happen. Tendrils of black energy flowed from the grave to my fingers. Dark lines traced themselves in my eyes until my eyes were completely black. Thick fog began to creep into the area and dark clouds blotted out the sun. The only light came from the fires of my oppoent's wings and aura.

I spoke to this poor, doomed man. "Lambda still doesn't know the source of my power, and you're not going to tell him. But you're going to find out right before you die."

Translucent black tentacles sprouted from the ground beneath him, snaking their way up his body and binding his wings and limbs. The look of terror on his face, even in that demonic form, was unmistakable.

I spoke to him for the last time. "I draw power from the bones of the dead." I allowed the full meaning and implication of my words to sink in before I squeezed the life out of him. Afterwards, when he reverted back to a normal human shape, I beat him over the head a few times and buried him. Just to be sure.

Yeah. I'm not as innocent as I like to pretend.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

Is dead. But, as we know from Slaughterhouse-Five, he continues to be alive throughout time. However, from our limited and human perception of 4th dimensional movement, his personal time line has ended.

Kurt Vonnegut, Junior is a man I respect as an author, as an Indiana native, and as a person. His works, of which I have not read nearly enough, have astounded and troubled me, in the best way possible. I'm not even sure what to write concerning this. I suppose I can just sum it up in his words.

So it goes.

My talent. . .

. . .is nothing to write home about. I've discovered the ability to imply sex very effectively without overtly mentioning it. Check it!

Cynthia sighed. “That was incredible.”

Arthur smiled to himself. “I’m not sure I believe you. I mean, isn’t that what a woman’s supposed to say?”

Cynthia stuck out her tongue at him and giggled. “Don’t let those other girls who lie ruin my reputation.” She put on her best innocent face. “I’m just an honest soul, you know that.”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to laugh. “Well I can’t really argue with that.” He paused for a moment, then “I’m glad I met you.”

“Yeah, I am too.”

The newlyweds fell asleep, exhausted, holding each other closely.

Seriously?

I wrote something and I'm going to post it.

What's that, jaded and cynical ex-reader? You don't believe me?

Well I did. It's not very long though.

What do you mean you bet it's not very good either? Well, yeah, I guess you're right.

Whatever. Writing:

Not like this, thought Timothy. Please don’t let it end like this.

His breathing was labored and it was becoming painful to draw breath, but he kept running. What choice did he have? To stop was to die. And he was beginning to suspect that running was just delaying the inevitable.

He heard footsteps behind him, getting louder, closer, despite his desperate attempts to escape.

Finally, his body could not continue. Adrenaline can only carry one so far. He turned, somewhat vindicated in his own mind by the fact that he would at least face his death as it came.

John Brighton had been on the force for several years now, but crime scenes like this still made him feel a little queasy. Maybe that was a good thing. He figured if the victims he encountered ever went from being people to just corpses, it was time for him to find another line of work.

Machine of Death

I saw that Ryan North and Company were doing something with this in a newspost on Dinosaur Comics some time ago, but I just today looked at it.

What is it, you ask, faithful and often disappointed reader? It is the Death Machine. And this site describes the rules and soforth for submitting stories based on the premise of said machine.

Problem is, I just got around to reading the site today. Early submission deadline is March 31st. That's not long from here. But I'm going to try.

Belladonna (Revised)

I'm posting this new edited version of "Belladonna." I think most of the changes have been for the better. Mad props to Jennybean, who helped critique the original draft.

Story:

Avalon was not going to be happy about this.

Lotus swore again under his breath. This was not his lucky day. He was pinned down by mortals and the bastards were pretty ingenious. They all had iron spikes with them for hand-to-hand combat and horseshoes to hurt him from a distance. Judging from his interaction with them so far, Lotus would be willing to bet they won competitions.

First the Changeling fiasco, now mortals who knew fairies all too well. He was beginning to think that something more proactive than fate was involved in his current trouble. For starters, he wasn't sure how they had detected him in the first place. He looked like any other man, though he was a tad on the short side. Blond hair was common enough for people in this part of the world. A tattoo of a bright pink Indian Lotus on the back of his left hand was unusual, but certainly no giveaway. The pale pink eyes were problematic, but mirrored sunglasses took care of that.

Just when Lotus thought things could not get any worse, they did. As he peeked from behind the corner to try and get a look at their positions, an iron nail whizzed past his head.

Fuck.

Well apparently they didn't need him alive. This was somewhat comforting since it meant that he wouldn't need to feel so bad about what he was going to do next.

Lotus closed his eyes and reached into his coat. He let his fingers play along the entirety of his guns for a moment, forming a tactile mental image before he committed, firmly clutching the handgrips of the two handguns.

Iron may be a fairy's enemy, but Lotus was quite aware that blued steel could be a fairy's best friend. His pistols had gotten him out of worse scrapes than this. Well, maybe not. He wasn't sure exactly where this fell on the badness magnitude scale. But he was reasonably sure he had gotten out of something at least as bad, if not worse than, this current scrape, with the aid of said pistols.

He drew the guns and shut his eyes for a moment, focusing all the magic he could muster. The humans didn't know it, but the spell would make it so that time was going a bit faster for him than it was for them. Or maybe it would slow down time on their end. The specifics were unimportant; the end result was the same.

He came from around the corner, popping a round into the head of each mortal before the first horseshoe was even close to touching him. Which was fortunate, as he had just enough time to duck before the spell ran out and several nails and horseshoes flew through the space where his torso had been moments earlier.

Lotus stood up and examined each human. Dead, for sure. He shook his head. It was a pity. He could remember a time when the Fair Folk were afforded the respect they deserved. Now, it seemed, they had to fight for it.

He put the guns away and walked out of the building and into the twilight. He had a baby to find.

---

Lotus knew what he needed to do to get the child back. He was, however, a tad reluctant to do it. Tracking magic was not especially difficult but it was a rare gift. Not many fairies had the focus or the attention span required to learn it.

Lotus knew one of those rare fey who could track, and do it well. And the fairy in question would help him; he owed Lotus a favor. Among the Gentry, favors were as valid a currency as gold. He'd been hoping to save this favor for something a bit more dire, but he really didn't have any other options.

Lotus flipped open his cell phone and dialed. After three rings, the voice of an elderly-sounding man piped through it.

"Hello?" inquired the voice on the other end.

"Cú," said Lotus. "Good to hear from you, old friend."

The troll's voice brightened at the sound of his elfish friend's voice.

"Kamal? What a pleasant surprise. It's been far too long." Lotus had always wondered why Cú insisted on using his Hindi name, but the quirk was one he had come to appreciate.

"Listen, Cú, I need your help, and quickly. Can you meet me at the usual place within the hour?"

The troll coughed twice before answering. "Of course, Kamal. I'd be glad to." And the line was dead.

Lotus put the phone away and started walking. The "usual place" was an all-night diner a few blocks from his current location. He and Cú had met there several times over the years.

Cú was already there when Lotus arrived. This was surprising since Lotus was almost certain that he, Lotus, had been substantially closer to the restaurant when he called. Lotus had a brief conversation with the hostess on duty, which mostly consisted of pointing to a waving Cú, before walking over and having a seat across the table from his friend.

The troll produced a pack of cigarettes and proffered it to Lotus.

"No thanks, Cú. Human poisons aren't my scene."

Cú shrugged as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

"Suit yourself," he said, exhaling smoke. "I trust you're going to be calling in that favor I owe you. Otherwise you would have chatted a bit more over the phone, I think."

Lotus was beginning to open his mouth to speak when Cú held up a hand for silence. "Do not answer yet, our waitress approaches."

Sure enough, the waitress walked over and greeted them, bestowing a glass of water and napkinful of silverware on each of them as she did. Each fairy ordered a coffee and they waited for her to walk away before they resumed speaking.

"Yes I need to call in my favor," said Lotus, a touch of regret in his voice. "And yes, it's urgent. I pulled a Changeling switch, but I've managed to lose the human infant now. If I don't get him back before sunup, I'm in trouble."

Cú nodded, and took another drag on the cigarette before speaking. "So you need me to track the child, right? Find out where whoever snatched your baby has taken it?"

"Yeah, something like that," Lotus confirmed. "I have the kid's blanket. I knew you needed a personal item of his." Lotus was reaching into his jacket when Cú raised his index finger in a near-universal "wait" gesture. Once again, the waitress was upon them. She set down their coffees, asked if she could get them anything else, was assured that she could not, and went on her way.

Lotus took the blanket from an inside pocket of his coat and handed it to Cú.

Cú sniffed the blanket, looked at it from all angles, ran a finger over it. Finally, he apparently decided that it passed inspection.

"I can use this," he said. "Good work. Now, Kamal, you'll be accompanying me while we track. This is your fight. I'll get you there, but you take over after that. Am I understood?"

Lotus nodded. "Sure thing, Cú. And I know being back by sunup is an even bigger issue for you than me, so I'll try not to slow you down too much."

The troll took another drag from the cigarette and grinned at the elf. "I expect that's true."

---

Lotus was cursing quietly but profusely. He was doing his absolute best to keep up with Cú, but it was getting difficult. Trudging through a wet forest at night, following nothing that even resembled a path, was not Lotus's idea of the perfect evening. He couldn't even do the minor magic it would take to traverse effortlessly and without trace through the forest. The time-manipulation had really taken it out of him. There was a reason that time flowed at a pretty consistent rate. The riverbed of time had definitely become a canyon by now and diverting its course, even for a few moments, was exceptionally difficult.

Lotus was shaken out of his reflection by Cú suddenly stopping.

"Tread carefully, Kamal," he breathed. "We're getting very close to your child. In fact, you should probably be able to see it if you look around. Your eyes are better than mine."

Lotus had taken off his sunglasses once they had started into the woods. Away from humans, there wasn't much point in them. Pale pink eyes scanned the wood ahead of him, the moonlight providing all the illumination he needed to see. He spotted something near the base of a large tree around 20 meters away. Undergrowth obscured the thing, but he pointed at it. Cú looked and focused his tracking magics for a moment, then nodded. Together, they began making their way towards the child.

There was a very small clear area when they got close to the tree. Sure enough, there was a basket with a sleeping human baby in it at the base.

Something is wrong here, thought Lotus. From across centuries, the voice of his sensei rang in the back of his mind. "Remember Lotus, you musn't mistake an object's reflection for the object itself."

Lotus was, to the best of his knowledge, the first and only Zen Buddhist fairy. He had traveled East many years ago and his sensei's teachings always seemed to help him when he least expected it.

Lotus held up a hand, stopping Cú from approaching the child further.

"That," he said. "Is not the child. It's a glamour."

There was laughter from the higher branches of the tree. Lotus looked up and saw exactly what he hoped he wouldn't. Standing on a branch, holding the basket with the real child, was another fairy. She was an elf like Lotus and he knew her well.

"Nightshade," he said, shaking his head. "I should have known." Lotus couldn't prevent a rueful smile from creeping onto his face.

Cú looked from Lotus back to Nightshade, surprise apparent on his face.

"This is Belladonna?" he asked in mild awe. "She is as beautiful as her name would imply."

"And as deadly," agreed Lotus. His voice suddenly took on a cold and impersonal aspect as he spoke again to Cú. "Cú, I thank you for your assistance. You have fulfilled your debt to me and your presence is no longer required."

Cú was transfixed. He had never seen the Unseelie Court's most deadly assassin and Lotus seemed to have prior dealings with her. This was about to get interesting; he had no intention of leaving.

"Actually, Kamal--"

"I said you can go now, Cú."

Something in Lotus's voice made Cú reluctant to press the issue. So he shrugged and cast a spell, fading from sight into the Otherworld.

Lotus looked up at Nightshade. "Now that we're alone, do you want to come down and discuss this like two mature fairies?"

Nightshade laughed maliciously. "If you'd like to pretend that's what we are then I'll humor you, Lotus."
Nightshade leapt from branch and landed effortlessly. Now that she was on the same level as he, Lotus could get his first good look at her in three years.

She hadn't changed much. She still had her long, shiny black hair; large eyes that were a deep purple shade most people mistook for black or dark brown. She was about Lotus's height, maybe a tad shorter. In short, she was still everything that Lotus dreamed about: Beautiful, sexy, and extremely deadly.

"Nightshade," he said. "I know why you're doing this. Can we perhaps come to an agreement?"

Nightshade sniffed contemptuously at Lotus. "Your precious baby boy will please my lords to no end. I see no reason for me to give him back to you."

Lotus was pretty sure he had a solution to this, but again, he was very reluctant to go through with it. The problem was largely in the origin of Nightshade's enmity. Three years ago, Lotus had come out on top in a conflict between the two of them. Long story short, he won her servitude. She was bound to his service for a year and a day. Nightshade was a very proud fairy, and she hated every single second of her subservience. In her opinion, no one was superior to her, and being forced to serve him was a blow from which her pride still had not fully recovered.

The elfs stared each other down for what seemed an eternity.

Lotus sighed. There was only one way to set this right. To win back Nightshade's favor. (And oh how very sweet her favor was, he thought, reflecting on their pre-conflict days.)

"Listen, Nightshade," he said. "Just let me take the babe back to Avalon. If you do, beginning tomorrow at sundown, I will be bound to your service."

Nightshade grinned wickedly; it made Lotus shudder, for a variety of reasons. "And how long shall this service last?"

Lotus sighed again. "The traditional span. A year and a day shall I be bound to your whim."

Nightshade was satisfied. "I have your word that if I let you take this babe back tonight, you will be mine starting tomorrow at sundown. For a year and a day?"

Lotus nodded. "To those terms, I pledge my word."

Nightshade's grin grew wider still. She handed him the babe. And then she did something she had not done in almost four years. She kissed Lotus, deeply and passionately. Then she winked at him and disappeared.

After recovering from that shock, Lotus looked down at the baby and shook his head. "You have no idea what I've gone through because of you tonight, little one."

The babe slept on, content and oblivious. Lotus had a feeling it would be a long year.

Belladonna

UPDATE: I'll be going through the process of rewriting and revising this over the next few days. More than likely, I'll be cleaning up this site a little bit in the wake of this story's aftermath. I'll possibly be deleting the 3-post version of Lotus's tale right before I do the rewrite. I'm not sure whether I'll be replacing this post, deleting it and adding the revised version, or just letting both coexist on the site. I'll say more when I've decided.

CLARIFICATION: This is not a story snippet. This is the first story I've ever completely finished. This is a full-length, complete, self-contained short story.

I've decided to put the last three posts into one superpost, to show the story in its entirety. Enjoy!

Author's Note: Cú means "hound."
Also, from Wikipedia: "Kamal may refer to:. . .A Hindi name which means 'lotus'. . ."
Also Also from Wikipedia: Lotus and Nightshade.

Avalon was not going to be happy about this.

Lotus swore again under his breath. This was not his lucky day. He was pinned down by mortals, all armed with iron. The bastards were pretty ingenious with this. They all had iron spikes with them for hand-to-hand combat. Additionally, they each had quite a few horseshoes. Judging from his interaction with them so far, Lotus would be willing to bet that they won competitions.

First the Changeling fiasco, now mortals who knew fairies all too well. He was beginning to think that something more proactive than fate was involved in his current trouble. For starters, he wasn't sure how they had detected him in the first place. He looked like any other man, though he was a tad on the short side at 167 cm. Blond hair was common enough for people in this part of the world, and people in general. A tattoo of a bright pink Indian Lotus on the back of his left hand was unusual, but certainly no giveaway. The pale pink eyes were problematic, but his mirrored sunglasses took care of that.

Just when Lotus thought things could not get any worse, they did. As he peeked his head from behind the corner to try and get a look at their positions, an iron nail, propelled by some sort of nail gun, whizzed past his head.

Fuck.

Well apparently they didn't need him alive. That was a somewhat comforting fact, since it meant that he wouldn't need to feel so bad about what he was going to do next.

Lotus closed his eyes and reached into his coat. He let his fingers play along the entirety of his guns for a moment, feeling them, forming a tactile mental image before he committed, firmly clutching the handgrips of the two handguns.

Iron may be a fairy's enemy, but Lotus was quite aware that blued steel could be a fairy's best friend. His pistols had gotten him out of worse scrapes than this. Well, maybe not. He wasn't sure exactly where this fell on the badness magnitude scale. But he was reasonably sure he had gotten out of something at least as bad, if not worse than, this current scrape, with the aid of said pistols.

He drew the guns and shut his eyes for a moment, focusing all the magic he could muster. The humans didn't know it, but the spell would make it so that time was going a bit faster for him than it was for them. Or maybe it would slow down time on their end. The specifics were unimportant as the end result was the same.

He came from around the corner, popping a round into the head of each mortal before the first horseshoe was even close to touching him. Which was fortunate, as he had just enough time to duck before the spell ran out and several nails and horseshoes flew through the space where his torso had been moments earlier.

Lotus stood up and examined each human. Dead, for sure. He shook his head. It was a pity. He could remember a time when the Fair Folk were afforded the respect they deserved. Now, it seemed, they had to fight for it.

He put the guns away and walked out of the building and into the twilight. He had a baby to find.

***

Lotus knew what he needed to do to get the child back. He was, however, a tad reluctant to do it. Tracking magic was not especially difficult per sé, but it was. . .specific. Not many fairies had the focus or, frankly, the attention span required to learn it.

Lotus knew one of those rare fey who could track, and do it well. And the fairy in question would help him; he owed Lotus a favor. Among the Gentry, favors were as valid a currency as gold. He'd been hoping to save this favor for something a bit more dire, but he really didn't have any other options.

Lotus flipped open his cell phone and dialed. After three rings, the voice of an elderly-sounding man piped through it.

"Hello?" inquired the voice on the other end.

"Cú," said Lotus. "Good to hear from you, old friend."

The troll's voice brightened at the sound of his elfish friend's voice.

"Kamal? What a pleasant surprise. It's been far too long." Lotus had always wondered why Cú insisted on using his Hindi name, but the quirk was one he had come to appreciate.

"Listen, Cú, I need your help, and quickly. Can you meet me at the usual place within the hour?"

The troll coughed twice before answering. "Sure Kamal. No problem." And the line was dead.

Lotus put the phone away and started walking. The "usual place" was an all-night diner a few blocks from his current location. He and Cú had met there several times over the years. Lotus hoped he'd be able to get Cú back in his debt before Cú got Lotus back into his.

Cú was already there when Lotus arrived. This was surprising since Lotus was almost certain that he, Lotus, had been substantially closer to the restaurant when he called. Lotus had a brief conversation with the hostess on duty, which mostly consisted of pointing to a waving Cú, before walking over and having a seat across the table from his friend.

The troll produced a pack of cigarettes and proffered it to Lotus.

"No thanks, Cú. Human poisons aren't my scene."

Cú shrugged as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

"Suit yourself," he said, exhaling the smoke from his first puff. "So, Kamal. I trust you're going to be calling in that favor I owe you, right? Otherwise you would have chatted a bit more over the phone, yes?"

Lotus was beginning to open his mouth to speak when Cú held up a hand for silence. "Do not answer that yet, our waitress approaches."

Sure enough, the waitress walked over and greeted them, bestowing a glass of water and napkinful of silverware on each of them as she did. They each ordered coffee, waited for her to walk away, then resumed speaking.

"Yes I need to call in my favor," said Lotus, with a touch of regret in his voice. "And yes, it's urgent. I pulled a Changeling switch, but I've managed to lose the human infant now. If I don't get him back before sunup, I'm in trouble."

Cú nodded in understanding, and took another drag on the cigarette before expressing his opinion. "So you need me to track the kid, yeah Kamal? Find out where whoever snatched your baby has taken it?"

"Yeah, something like that," Lotus confirmed. "I have the kid's blanket. I knew you needed a personal item of his." Lotus was reaching into his jacket when Cú raised his index finger in a near-universal "wait" gesture. Once again, the waitress was upon them. She set down their coffees, asked if she could get them anything else, was assured that she could not, and went on her way.

Lotus took the blanket from an inside pocket of his coat and handed it to Cú.

Cú sniffed the blanket, looked at it from all angles, ran a finger over it. Finally, he apparently decided that it passed inspection.

"I can use this," he said. "Good work. Now, Kamal, you'll be accompanying me while we track. This is your fight. I'll get you there, but you take over after that, you got it?"

Lotus nodded. "Sure thing, Cú. And I know being back by sunup is an even bigger issue for you than me, so I'll try not to slow you down too much."

The troll took another drag from the cigarette and grinned at the elf. "I expect that's true."

***

Lotus was cursing quietly but profusely. He was doing his absolute best to keep up with Cú, but it was getting difficult. Trudging through a wet forest at night, following nothing that even resembled a path, was not first on Lotus's list of things he would love to do. He couldn't even do the minor magic it would take to traverse effortlessly and without trace through the forest. The time-manipulation had really taken it out of him. There was a reason that time flowed at a pretty consistent rate. The riverbed of time had definitely become a canyon by now, and diverting its course, even for a few moments, was exceptionally difficult.

Lotus was shaken out of his reflection by Cú suddenly stopping.

"Tread carefully, Kamal," he breathed. "We're getting very close to your child. In fact, you should probably be able to see it if you look around. Your eyes are better than mine."

Lotus had taken off his sunglasses once they had started into the woods. Away from humans, there wasn't much point in them. Pale pink eyes scanned the wood ahead of him, the moonlight providing all the illumination he needed to see perfectly well. He spotted something near the base of a large tree around 20 meters away. Undergrowth obscured the thing though, but he pointed at it. Cú looked at the thing, focused his tracking magics for a moment, then nodded. Together, they began making their way towards the child.

There was a very small clear area when they got close enough to the tree. Sure enough, there was a basket with a sleeping human baby in it at the base.

Something is wrong here, thought Lotus. The voice of his sensei rang in the back of his mind.

Lotus was, fittingly, sitting in the lotus position as his sensei instructed him.

"Remember, Lotus," he said, pointing at a water lily floating on the pond's surface. "You must never mistake a thing's reflection for the thing itself."

Lotus was, to the best of his knowledge, the first and only Zen Buddhist fairy. He had traveled East many years ago, and his sensei's teachings always seemed to help him when he least expected it.

Lotus held up a hand, stopping Cú from approaching the child further.

"That," he said. "Is not the child. It's a glamour."

There was laughter from the higher branches of the tree. Lotus looked up and saw exactly what he hoped he wouldn't. Standing on a branch, holding the basket with the real child in it was another fairy. She was an elf like Lotus, and he knew her well.

"Nightshade," he said, shaking his head. "I should have known." Lotus couldn't prevent a rueful smile from creeping onto his face.

Cú looked from Lotus back to Nightshade, surprise apparent on his face.

"This is Belladonna?" he asked in mild awe. "She is as beautiful as her name would imply."

"And as deadly," agreed Lotus. His voice suddenly took on a cold and impersonal aspect as he spoke again to Cú. "Cú, I thank you for your assistance. You have fulfilled your debt to me and your presence is no longer required."

Cú was transfixed. He had never seen the Unseelie Court's most deadly assassin, and Lotus seemed to have prior dealings with her. This was about to get interesting and he had no intention of leaving.

"Actually, Kamal--"

"I said you can go now, Cú."

Something in Lotus's voice made Cú reluctant to press the issue. So he shrugged and cast a spell, fading from sight into the Otherworld.

Lotus looked Nightshade in the eye. "Now that we're alone, do you want to come down and discuss this like two mature fairies?"

Nightshade laughed maliciously. "If you'd like to pretend that's what we are, then I'll humor you, Lotus."

Nightshade leapt from the high branches of the tree and landed effortlessly. Now that she was on the same level as he, Lotus could get his first good look at her in two years.

She hadn't changed much. She still had her long, shiny black hair, large eyes that were a deep purple shade that most people mistook for black or dark brown. She was about Lotus's height, maybe a centimeter or two shorter. In short, she was still everything that Lotus dreamed about: Beautiful, sexy, and extremely deadly.

"Nightshade," said he. "I know why you're doing this. Can we perhaps come to an agreement?"

Nightshade sniffed contemptuously at Lotus. "Your precious baby boy will please my lords to no end. I see no reason for me to give him back to you."

Lotus was pretty sure he had a solution to this, but again, he was very reluctant to go through with it. The problem was largely in the origin of Nightshade's enmity. Three years ago, Lotus had come out on top in a conflict between the two of them. Long story short, he won her servitude. She was bound to his service for a year and a day. Nightshade was a very proud fairy, and she hated every single second of her subservience. In her opinion, no one was superior to her, and being forced to serve someone inferior was a blow that her pride still had not fully recovered from.

The elfs stared each other down for what seemed an eternity.

Lotus sighed. There was only one way to set this right. To win back Nightshade's favor. (And oh how very sweet her favor was, he thought, reflecting on their pre-conflict days.)

"Listen, Nightshade," he said wearily. "Just let me take the babe back to Avalon. If you do, beginning tomorrow at sundown, I will be bound to your service."

Nightshade grinned wickedly; it made Lotus shudder, for a variety of reasons. "And how long shall this service last?"

Lotus sighed again. "The traditional span. A year and a day shall I be bound to your whim."

Nightshade was satisfied. "I have your word that if I let you take this babe back tonight, you will be mine starting tomorrow at sundown. For a year and a day?"

Lotus nodded. "To those terms, I pledge my word."

Nightshade's grin grew wider still. She handed him the babe. And then she did something she had not done in almost four years. She kissed Lotus, deeply and passionately. Then she winked at him and disappeared.

After recovering from that shock, Lotus looked down at the baby and shook his head, exasperated. "You have no idea what I've gone through because of you tonight, little one."

The babe slept on, content and oblivious. Lotus had a feeling it would be a very long year.

Things My Non-existant Readers Do Not Care About

. . .but that's fine with me, because they don't exist anyway.

First off, song list for Writer's Block III. Not sure why I do this. Maybe I hope if I die I'll be reincarnated and read this blog, picking up more or less where I leave off. Maybe I think someday I'll be famous and some kid will go back and try to emulate me in every way possible. Maybe I'm a creativity voyeur. Whatever. Song list time!

Songs are in the format "Song Time Artist"

Follow the Leader 2:18 Andrew Blatt
Follow the Leader ["Get to It!" Edit] 1:35 Andrew Blatt
Fun With Strums 2:03 Andrew Blatt
Instabilities 0:21 Andrew Blatt
Masked Madman 4:43 Andrew Blatt
Silas Denver [Dead or Alive Bounties Mix] 1:52 Andrew Blatt
Silas Denver [Reno Gun Control Mix] 1:16 Andrew Blatt
Softer 1:24 Andrew Blatt
Another Bag of Bricks 3:45 Flogging Molly
Broken (Featuring Amy Lee) 4:18 Seether & Amy Lee
Daisy 4:18 Switchfoot
DOA 4:12 Foo Fighters
Duel of the Fates 4:14 John Williams
Every Planet We Reach Is Dead 4:55 Gorillaz
Fall to Pieces 4:30 Velvet Revolver
Kremlin Dusk 5:13 Utada Hikaru
Pain 3:01 Jimmy Eat World
Pure 3:30 Superchick
Remedy 3:27 Seether
Sevens 3:49 Samuel R. Hazo
So On 4:16 Silers Bald
Sophmore Slump or Comeback of the Year 3:23 Fall Out Boy
Suddenly 3:35 Superchick
Sweetness 3:40 Jimmy Eat World
The Rare Ould Times 4:06 Flogging Molly
The Storm 3:02 The Procussions
Three Days Later 2:23 FM Static
Apocalypse Please 4:12 Muse
Time Is Running Out 3:56 Muse
Hysteria 3:47 Muse
Thoughts Of A Dying Atheist 3:11 Muse
Starlight 3:59 Muse
Supermassive Black Hole 3:29 Muse
Map Of The Problematique 4:18 Muse
Assassin 3:31 Muse
Bathroom Stall 2:45 Epoxies
Please Please 3:42 Epoxies
Radiation 2:13 Epoxies
Stop the Future 2:06 Epoxies
Struggle Like No Other 1:55 Epoxies
No Interest 3:05 Epoxies
Fly 4:52 Sugar Ray
Under the Sun 3:20 Sugar Ray
Every Morning 3:40 Sugar Ray
Waste 3:27 Smash Mouth
Then the Morning Comes 3:04 Smash Mouth
Defeat You 3:54 Smash Mouth
Home 3:12 Smash Mouth

That's 48 songs! That's 40 in a base 12 system!

I think I'll do a short story now. What to do it over. . .

The problem is that I'm being distracted by trying to pick out the next dozen songs to construct Writer's Block IV. . .

Good News, Everyone

My new to-write-by playlist "Writer's Block III" is now finished. It has 48 songs, and I'll be posting it and a story sometime this weekend.
~The Drewcifer

Joshua and Quentin

This excerpt covers how Joshua came by the facilities he's been using in previous posts, as well as introducing the minor character Quentin O'Riely. I don't like to use Quentin very often, because he's a very Deus Ex Machina character by virtue of how wealthy and, digitally, powerful he is. As I stated before, Quentin came from a story I started earlier, specifically my sophomore year of high school. His story, though very different, is the spiritual precursor to Joshua's. Anyway, on to Joshua and Quentin's meeting.

"Take this, Joshua. Do not lose it." Quentin handed him a small slip of paper. "That is who you are according to that bank. All of my dealings with them have been through the internet and representatives. If you lose that, you lose the money."

Joshua nodded and read the number to himself. He tucked the paper into his wallet, then looked at Quentin.

"But don't you have another copy somewhere?"

Quentin shook his head. "It's yours now, not mine. You know I don't keep redundant information. Besides," he grinned, tapping the side of his head. "It's all up here. If you lose that, I'll take it as my cue to resume control of those funds. Half a million dollars is not a small amount of money. I expect you to be responsible with it."

"I understand. Thank you for helping us out, Quent. I don't think I'll ever be able to make it up to you."

Quentin waved a hand dismissively. "It's no trouble. I've got the money to spare. 'A friend in need,' right? All I ask is that you don't involve me in this any more than you have to. You're in some pretty big stuff and I need to lay low for the time being. I did find a place for your little operation, as well."

Joshua looked at Quentin both puzzled and embarrassed. "You've already done so much, Quentin. You really don't have to get us a whole building as well."

Quentin shook his head. "It's fine. See, Tendall Corp. has just acquired a small internet venture called Falling Down Sober Industries that was based in the building that Tendall will be donating to your worthy cause, Cressman. And it's perfect, trust me."

Joshua looked at his friend uneasily. "What is so perfect about it?"

Quentin grinned again. "Well, for one, it's a modest office building. Perfect for the little business front you're running. But there's a bonus, too. In the early sixties, a man named Harold Baumrigger started a cult. He was ridiculously paranoid, convinced that nuclear holocaust was imminent. He built himself a huge multi-story fallout shelter. Harold taught his followers that only he could keep them safe from the rapidly approaching destruction of the Earth. After it was revealed he was involved in sexual harassment of some of his disciples, the operation was shut down. But the bunker is still there. Beneath that building."

Quentin looked at Joshua, who in turn nodded appreciatively. Quentin's characteristic grin returned. "A few years ago, just before Falling Down Sober invested in the building, someone went and deleted all mention of the bunker. I mean, no one had looked at the listing in years, so no one remembered any way. A certain hacker just made sure they stayed forgetful. I happen to have the last remaining blueprint of the fallout shelter."

Joshua was impressed, and it showed. A new thought occurred to him which prompted a question. "But if you bought it, does that mean you were going to--"

Quentin raised a hand, cutting him off. "Jesse and I occasionally used it for an office. And you don't get far in my profession without a little paranoia. What I mean is that if I think there's going to be a nuclear winter sometime soon, I'll be stopping by."

Preparations

I don't normally do this, but I'm just going to type a little background about a character who is going to be appearing in the next post I do. His name is subject to various spellings, but for now call him Quentin O'Riely. He is the twin brother of the previously encountered Brigit and best friend of Jesse Rasnick. Quentin is the main character of the story I started involving those three characters. Okay, here's a pseudo-encyclopedic listing of Quentin.

Quentin O'Riely: Male, mortal. No supernatural powers. Instinctive expert on computers and related systems. More famous for his exploits as the hacker known as Imhotep. Does most of his hacking in the true sense, only occasionally participating in the "phreaking" that has made Imhotep famous. Always attempts to create a sort of "Robin Hood" image for Imhotep, robbing only large corporations that he, Quentin, views as corrupt. Normally does very hard-to-catch items, such as siphoning off a portion of a target company's revenue into an overseas bank account of his own. A huge fan of the proverbial Swiss bank account, Quentin has quite a few and is a multi-millionaire, though he does not make that known. At all. He also runs several legitimate online businesses, contributing to his income. Part of his success as Imhotep comes from the fact that he has custom programmed every piece of software he uses. This includes his operating system, which he continually tweaks and upgrades. He went to high school with Joshua Cressman, who eventually became trusted enough to learn some of Quentin's secrets, including the fact that he had much more money than anyone knew, but not including how he got it or who, as a hacker, he is.

There we go, now you know the scoop on Quentin. I'll keep a few secrets to myself though.

Preview time!
The following is somehow related to Joshua (props if you figure out what it is. You have to click to see it because of the transparency.):
Added a second, non-transparent, bigger version:
Frustration! The bigger version does not have all of the information! Curses! No matter, I will get this fixed. Accept this temporary solution for now.


Update: It doesn't look like I'm going to get the full string at a readable size, so please accept the above as a minor preview of what it would look like at a readable size.

Say It With Me: "Intrigue"

POSTS YOU NEED TO HAVE READ BEFORE YOU READ THIS:
Joshua Cressman
Sleep Deprivation
Joshua, Meet Chris

(In that order, probably.)

This is a fun little event that I dreamed up over the last few days. The nice part about it is that that it 1)reveals a little bit more about the differences between Iris and Chris and 2)will enable me to do another scene later without having to answer some awkward questions. I haven't gotten up the nerve to write aforementioned later scene yet. There will still be awkward questions when I post it, just not "WTF is going on and why is Chris where she is?" Anyway, on to what I actually have written.

Current Music: Utada Hikaru selected songs:
1. About Me
2. Devil Inside
3. Fly Me to the Moon (In Other Words)
4. Exodus
5. Usomitaina I Love You
6. The Workout
7. Simple and Clean
8. Kremlin Dusk
9. Easy Breezy
10. Animato
11. Let Me Give You My Love
12. Simple and Clean [Planet 9 Remix]

This playlist is on random and repeat, so the order of these songs is constantly shifting, but these are the songs.
-The Drewcifer

Joshua finished up the last of his desk work for the day. In the two weeks since Chris had shown up, she had proven just as useful as her twin, if not moreso. Joshua walked and was met by Adam at the door to his office. They had important matters to discuss, but not just yet. They struck up a conversation typical of best friends. It wound from topic to topic, sometimes a logical progression, sometimes flowing from one idea to the next, usually jumping unpredictably. As they turned a corner and were just settling into serious discussion, Chris was there.

"Hello!" she said, energetically. Her voice still had the lilting quality that had caught Joshua's attention in the first place. She stared blankly at the air for a moment, the spoke again. "Mind if I walk with you?"

Joshua shrugged. "I don't see why not, but the conversation is about to get pretty boring."

"That's okay, I just want to be with people right now," explained Chris.

Joshua almost asked what she meant, then thought better of it. Chris was just a little more like Iris than he had originally thought upon first meeting her.

So the three of them walked, Joshua and Adam discussing a range of rather boring, if vital, logistics topics, Chris trailing a few steps behind them.

Suddenly, Chris snatched Adam's gun from its holster, spun around very quickly, and put three holes into the ceiling. As she was squeezing the trigger on the second shot, her free hand shot out to the side, catching Joshua's wrist, preventing he progress of his knife to her shoulder.

"What the Hell are you--" Joshua began yelling but stopped when blood began to drip from the holes in the ceiling.

Adam spoke up, somewhat perturbed. "As the only normal mortal currently present, I'd like to know what, exactly, just happened." He paused for a beat, then held out his hand to Chris. "Furthermore, being a lowly mortal, I'd like my gun back."

Chris nodded at Adam and returned the firearm. She looked at Joshua and spoke.

"I'm going to let go of your wrist and you're going to put that away," she said, gesturing towards the knife held in his currently trapped hand. "Nothing needs to be cut right now, Nemesis. Next, I'm going to explain. Understood?" The lilting quality was completely gone from her voice, in fact, it had an almost icy quality to it now. The complete split-second transformation caught Joshua off-guard. He nodded dumbly and Chris let go of his wrist. He put the knife away and fought the urge to rub his wrist. The girl had quite a grip.

Chris was satisfied, so she nodded as if she was agreeing with herself. The motion reminded Joshua of Iris. Not surprising, he supposed. After all, they were twins.

Chris began to explain. "The men in the vents were spies from Shane Gaspar. They were recruited from one of the street gangs in the area that are under Shane's control. It's one you've had previous run-ins with, so you should be able to recognize the tattoos that mark them. The first one has his mark on his back, the second's is on his arm, the third's is on his chest. I suggest you go retrieve and dispose of those bodies now." Chris turned and walked away.

Joshua looked at Adam, sighed, and got on the intercom. "I'm going to need a few boys for some rather unpleasant duct work," he said over the loudspeaker.

*******

Chris walked into the broom closet just as the man was replacing the cover on the vent. "Well done," she said quietly. The man started, then turned around, fumbling for his weapon.

"You won't need that, Nate. Don't make me regret letting you live back there."

The man stopped trying to get his gun into his hands and left it as it was. He stared at Chris, thoughts racing through his head at a rapid pace. How does she know my name? Is hers the voice that told me to go, how to get here right before the others were shot? She's definitely the one who shot them, I know that. But how? How did she do it and why am I so sure it was her?

The man stared down Chris for a few moments, then found his voice. "Why?" he inquired weakly.

Chris shook her head. "I had to. You idiots tattoo everyone and their markings were far too obvious. I'd almost lost hope but then I realized that they were at least smart enough to have you grow your hair out before they sent you. That means the tattoo on your scalp wasn't going to be recognized, at least not easily. Now listen, in order to avoid interpreter detection, you're going to need my help."

Nate looked at her, still visibly shaken. How did she know so much? "What do you want?" he stammered.

Chris smiled. It was a predatory thing, with none of the music and grace she had displayed when Joshua first met her. "Tell me where to find Shane Gaspar."

Footnote: Shane Gaspar is the main bad guy. He's the man in the red suit Joshua fought in the dream in the post "Joshua Cressman." And yes, Chris is basically agreeing to help and enemy spy. Funny that. I think this maybe the longest bit of literature I've managed to write set in this world. I hope you enjoyed it.