Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage and into...

ã€ŠSongbird - a Kammi Kettu storyã€‹


 Arc 1: Into the Darkness, Chapter 1: The Storm

    <h2></h2>

    <h2>Chapter 1: The Storm</h2>

    There are times where you can look back at a moment in your life and can go, ¡®This was the moment everything changed for the worse¡¯. Sometimes even further along in time, you may look back fondly at this moment and how the changes that started here changed your life for the better, that the pain was worth it. For me this moment was a monday. The twenty-eighth of November 2018, the night of the first Emergence and the day my life came crumbling down.

    I had been walking aimlessly for what felt like hours and I still didn''t know where I should or even could go. Cars zipped by as I made my way through endless suburbia on foot; a lone young adult like myself raised little concern.

    You know those little suburban streets filled with neat rows of houses on their own plots of land with their private gardens, driveways with parked cars and lush trees lining the road, their branches interlocking and casting shade over the road? Yeah it wasn¡¯t that sort of suburbia, think aging houses in need of a coat of paint, ignored overgrown or parched dying gardens, beat up cars on the street and screaming coming from the houses. Oh and not a comfortable shadow worth its shade in sight.

    Out here without shade and away from the cold winds of the lake, you wouldn¡¯t have thought it was just shy of winter.

    My throat was parched, my feet were sore and I was starting to get hungry. All I had were the clothes on my back, ten precious dollars burning a hole in my pocket and an increasing number of blisters.

    My misfortune had started earlier today when I had used my free period to head home from school early. Well¡­ Ok I might have to go back earlier than that and explain for this all to make sense. I guess it all started years ago when I was found wrapped in swaddling in a cardboard dvd player box, round the rear of a hospital.

    The state handled it like they always do, with minimal effort. I was an unnamed John Doe and after a lazy attempt was made to try and identify the parents, I was given the name John D Smith, without even a drop of effort or imagination and placed into the system. I then drifted through the system for the next seven years. Stays in orphanages and temporary foster parents, never staying in one place for more than a year.

    The experience of being a foster kid is often more like parcela parcel that has been bounced for so long between zip codes that has long since lost sight of its destination, than the childhoods of other children. You¡¯re a number in a system, a box to be ticked, a quota that has to be filled or an item that has to be budgeted.

    Yes it sucked not having parents, I mean I don¡¯t entirely know what I was missing, but I had seen enough happy kids with parents on tv, in movies, on the streets and at the school. I won¡¯t lie and say I didn¡¯t feel a pang in my heart everytime I saw that, but it did dull over time. Eventually after a few rounds of being returned by foster parents, you closed off your heart and retreated away from others.

    When I was young, growing up in this machine, I would often find a dark quiet space to hide, away from others. Especially when I felt bad. I had never been afraid of the dark, unlike many of the kids I¡¯d met in the foster system. It was almost like a comforting stillness, a warm blanket, or a friend that helped you hide. No one could bother you if they couldn¡¯t find you. I guess my habit of always hiding in the dark wasn¡¯t considered endearing to foster parents, seeing as I seemed to always get moved on in the end.

    The back and forth all ended when I was seven and to my misfortune the Anderson¡¯s entered my life.

    To this day I''ll never understand how or why the Andersons became my foster parents, but there mustn''t have been thorough background checks. Looking back on it, it was likely influenced by whatever conspiracy theory they were following at the time, but I bet the fortnightly government checks sweetened the deal. Whatever their reasons, it was obvious was the foster system had not done their due diligence and the Anderson¡¯s were the last people who should of been allowed to have kids, let alone take in a foster kid.

    Oh yeah, I guess I should mention my foster parents were massive conspiracy nuts! Name a bigoted conspiracy and they probably followed it. They were borderline neonazis, the only reason they hadn''t joined a militia or Waco''ed with a cult, was because they switched conspiracies like others change underpants. If you can name a conspiracy, I can guarantee they likely followed it at one point.

    Sometimes seeing how other kids internalise their parents beliefs, I think back on how lucky I was to not end up like them. Gag, eww! I kinda want to vomit at the thought of a ¡®me¡¯ existing who grew up like them..

    School always kept me grounded and prevented their beliefs from completely rubbing off on me. The rents had wanted to homeschool me to prevent the ¡°federal indoctrination system¡± from corrupting me, but the state foster system required them to keep me in the public system until I was 16, before I could drop out.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    That was the heart of why I had run away from home, at 16 I refused to drop out and it had been a source of conflict since. I was almost 18 now, not far off graduating with my high school diploma and I had big plans.

    Big plans I was working hard for. Since I was 15 years old and faking parental permission, I had slowly been building a small nest egg under the floorboards of my room. Several nights a week I spent flipping burgers and on weekends I worked at Walmart.

    All this saving so that when I graduated, I could go to college and leave Mr and Mrs Anderson, their conspiracies and their bigotry behind and never come back.

    I had it all planned out. I¡¯d been researching courses and picked out what I wanted to do and I had identified the scholarships I needed and I knew what welfare and loans I was eligible for. Then I had found a cheap area to live to rent near one of the local colleges. I¡¯d even located a doctor and even the psych i would need. Not to mention there was even a planned parenthood not far away.

    I knew that last one because my foster parents had picketed it at one point.

    What I''d never anticipated was getting run out of the house before any of that could happen. Kicked out of home with nothing but the clothes on my back and the contents of my pockets.

    The whole time I had lived with them, their constant conspiracies had always gotten on my nerves. The endless verbal brow beatings that forced me to keep secrets from them, I knew how bigoted they were. I just had to wait till I was 18 and had graduated, then I¡¯d be living my own life, free of them and free to be me.

    Constantly wearing a mask at school and and an even greater mask at home had been grinding me down. I knew who I was in theory, but how could it feel real when I constantly had to hide it behind masks, that I could only let slip in a few places online. The masks kept me safe at home, but I could feel my frustration building. Nodding and making vague grunts of agreement had got me through so many of their bullshit conspiracy rants. Problem was recently I had started talking back.

    Today, when I got home from school, they¡¯d told me I needed to pack a backpack and grab a bug out bag, as we were spending the night in their homemade backyard doomsday bunker. The world was about to end, they feverishly claimed.

    Enough was enough.

    I¡¯d had it and this time it was beyond just talking back, I had snapped and yelled at them to come to their senses. Like hell I was going to let them yet again, force me into spending the night in their doomsday bunker, when I could be doing my school work and studying for exams.

    Had I expected them to take that well? Absolutely fucking not. Was I surprised when they pulled one of their unregistered guns on me and told me to go fend for myself? Yes, I almost shat myself when he pointed it at me, you try and tell me you wouldn¡¯t be, but also no it wasn''t really all that out of character for him.

    So here I was walking with no destination, no money, no plans and nowhere to go. Could it get any worse? You bet, if my whole shitty life was evidence and if those darkening clouds on the horizon could be trusted.

    I better find some cover before they make my day worse, getting rained on is one thing, dying from exposure another entirely. I shivered as I imagined my awful name on a tombstone and the obligatory obituary. I didn¡¯t want to die before I got a fresh start.

    Scanning the horizon for the skyscrapers that marked Penrith''s heart, I changed course and began my trek out of the monotonous suburbia. With every mile the clouds appeared to get darker. As I drew closer to the city the houses and green lawns began to be replaced by shops, businesses and apartment complexes. Sherwood maybe?

    I looked around, but everywhere was closed, the sun had passed behind the clouds a few miles back and it was likely setting. It had to be approaching 5pm.

    The clouds burst drenching me to the bone with cold late autumn rain long before I made it to the city.

    Taking the opportunity to deal with my still parched throat, I turned my face to the heavens and tried to catch the rain with my mouth to drink. The first few mouthfuls of icy cool water soothed my burning throat.

    Then I opened my eyes and saw the clouds. You know when you see something that leaves you stunned and breathless? Well what I saw made me forget to swallow. I inhaled. Choking, I painfully coughed and spat up to offending water before glancing back up at the clouds through tear filled eyes.

    Behind the clouds was a light show unlike any I had seen before. The closest comparison I could make was as if someone was firing off fireworks in the clouds, flashes of colourful lightning amidst the greys of the clouds. I pinched myself sure I must be dreaming or in some sort of hallucination, but I didn¡¯t wake up and the strange lights did not disappear. The part of me that remembered all my foster parents¡¯ conspiracies darted through a dozen explanations from UFOs, chemtrails, nuclear war, mind control experiments to even some new world order plot.

    A jerking tremor coursed up my body from my toes to my head. I was already starting to feel the cold. The lights in the sky could wait, I knew I needed to find cover and I knew I needed to find it quickly. Spotting playground equipment in a nearby park, I ran for it and took shelter under the metal platform of a climbing structure.

    I fell on my ass in the wood chips, panting from the cold, from sprinting after hours of walking. I was out of the wind and rain, I could stay here for now. The world around me was blurred out by sheets of rain and raindrops pelted the platform above my head with the sound of a machine gun. I still needed to decide what to do about my situation.

    Unfortunately, I wouldn''t get the chance to think on it.

    The sky flashed, bringing everything into contrast and instead of thunder came a long high pitched sound like steel tearing under tension. Every part of me went agonizingly hot, even my bones felt as if they were on fire. Then suddenly as it started I felt cold. My head pounded. I felt dizzy. Every bit of feedback from my body felt wrong. Everything felt larger, or maybe I was smaller. Something was wrong with my eyesight. I just closed my eyes and waited for things to feel normal again...

 Arc 1: Into the Darkness, Chapter 2: Shadows and Lightning

    <h2>Chapter 2: Shadows and Lightning</h2>

    The sense of normality never returned. Dazed, I just sat there among the wood chips as I waited for my head to clear and the dizziness to fade. I felt colder than I had before the flash, but it didn¡¯t seem to bother me. The cold sort of felt right. It was like a comforting blanket cocooning me, hiding me. I opened my eyes. I wasn¡¯t prepared for what I saw.

    My vision was obscured by long damp hair that fell across my face and down over my shoulders and back. It was black¡­ Farewell boring brown hair, but I have to say¡­ This raised questions. Hair didn''t grow this fast or change colour on its own.

    My waterlogged clothes, now far too big for me, hung limply even as they tried to cling to my wet skin. They would have threatened to slip off me if they weren¡¯t anchored to my body by short sharp black spikes like obsidian that had burst through the layers of clothing tearing them. My already worn-ragged hoodie had more holes than ever.

    I can¡¯t say I¡¯m not used to ¡®distressed clothes¡¯ as the more expensive and trendy brands call it. Just most of my stuff came with faded with holes and tears from lives in previous people¡¯s wardrobes, instead of a factory treatment. Everything aside from underwear or stuff I bought myself was straight outta an assortment of thrift shops or charity clothing bins.

    Ok I think I am getting distracted from the fact there are Spikes Protruding From My Body!

    My anxiety levels continued to soar as I tried to count all the spikes piercing my clothes, questions raced through my head. How did they get there and were they? Were they shrapnell? Was that flash of light and tearing sound an explosion?

    I¡¯d felt unbelievable fine, but it was gone almost as soon as it started. I didn¡¯t feel pain anymore, but was the cold I was feeling shock? Was I bleeding? On the verge of panicking, I grabbed one of the spikes protruding from my bicep to investigate. It was cold and slick, more like glass than any metal I¡¯d ever felt.

    Carefully not to cut my apparently tiny fingers on the sharp edges, I gently tried to pull the spike out. It was like pulling gently on a tooth, I couldn¡¯t feel myself touching the spike or even any pain, just a dull sensation of it being firmly attached to something deep in my arm. The only way The only way I was only really going to work out what the hell was going on, was to check under my clothes where spikes met skin.

    As apprehensive as I was about potentially stripping down in public, I knew I couldn¡¯t go any further until I knew for sure I wasn¡¯t injured. For once I was thankful a park was empty, dark and wet, it was a special sort of creepy, but I knew I had some privacy.

    If my hoodie had been a pull over, I would have been somewhat stuck because I wasn¡¯t sure I would be able to pull it over my head, given the numerous spikes jutting through the fabric. Thankfully it had my old hoodie had a front zipper. Again I found myself looking at my hands as I grasped the zipper. They seemed much smaller, dainter, more elegant than I remembered, the nails were as black as if I had painted them.

    Actually neater than if I had painted them. The few times I had tried that, I¡¯d made a mess with polish applied unevenly and on the skin around the nails. I would hurry to apply to get as much time as possible to enjoy it, before having to remove it and prevent my foster parents from noticing.

    It felt almost voyeuristic as I slowly pulled down the zipper of my oversized hoodie. Underneath, my clinging wet t-shirt that was now big enough to be a short dress, leaving me with no illusions about what lay underneath it. Letting myself momentarily forget about the spikes, I peeled off the hoodie and gave my chest an exploratory poke.

    Yup, my wet t-shirt was sticking to a pair of boobs, nipples poking through and all. My boobs. I couldn¡¯t believe it, even my rents theories had nothing that could explain what was happening. I knew boobs took months, years to grow whether by puberty or taking hormones. I gave them another exploratory feel, more like a grope, yup definitely one hundred percent my own boobs. I caught myself smiling.

    They were a little small though...

    Ok! Serious business. I need to work out what else has happened. Despite their allure, I managed to move on from the matter of my boobs.

    Unexpected movement caught my gaze. Black marks swirled and crossed my pale skin. I now had some sort of tattoos. Unlike a large portion of the people my foster parents rubbed shoulders with, I¡¯d never had tattoos. Not one. I never saw the attraction of having a swastika or a confederate flag branded into my skin. Plenty of my rent¡¯s friends wore their beliefs and allegiances on their skin.

    Then again I¡¯m just the brat with no sense of patriotism¡­ That¡¯s coming from the folks who think the country is run by lizard people. I shouldn¡¯t take their words to heart, but it wears away at you.

    But regardless of having never stepped foot in a tattoo parlor, I now had what appeared to be tattoos running up both arms that disappeared into my shirt. I lifted it up at the waist revealed to find more on my stomach, chest and sides. Tattoos and more curves I did not wake up with this morning.

    Idly I ran my hands down my sides feeling the soft curves. My soft curves. They weren¡¯t much and I still looked kinda malnourished. My skin was drawn a little too tight over my lower ribs, that hadn¡¯t changed and my waist. Far narrower than before. As much as I loved my new hips and waist, I resolved myself to try and put on a little more weight. If I get back home, I¡¯d need to spend a little more of my savings on food.

    The canvas of my skin was paler than I remembered, I was never overly tanned but now my skin was paper while except for these black tattoos and they moved! Moving across my white skin was pitch black smoke. As interesting and completely fucking impossible it was I couldn¡¯t put off investigating the spikes. They seemed numerous given how they stood out, but in reality there weren¡¯t too many. There seemed to be an order and symmetry to them I didn¡¯t notice when I was wearing my hoodie

    I had one spike in each of my forearms, another in each of my biceps, as well as one for each of my now small narrow shoulders. My head appeared to be free of spikes. I carefully felt one in the nape of my neck and more now my spine. Two more emerged either side of my abs. There were two more on each leg jutting outwards from my thighs and calves, piercing my jeans. There were like little obsidian arrowheads emerging from my flesh, my skin with barely a seam.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I dragged a finger across one of the spikes sharp edged only to let out a high pitched squeal as I cut myself.

    ¡°Wow¡­ My voice¡­ wow,¡± I trailed off. My voice had a soft feminine singsong quality. If there was such a thing as a perfect voice, I would say my new one ranked up there. I glanced down at my cut finger only to catch it finishing to heal before my very eyes and the blood outside the wound turning into black mist.

    ¡°Ok.. So let me get this straight¡­ I am now a girl I think,¡± I quickly pulled back the waistbands of my jeans and underwear to confirm it, before I went back to speaking to myself, enjoying the sound of my voice.

    ¡°Well I look like it¡­ And I sound like it. Next! I think I am smaller, not sure about how much, my hair is longer too. Now for the stranger bits¡­ I have spikes and I guess that isn¡¯t the weirdest¡­ It¡¯s these tattoos, what kind of tattoo moves on its own? Not any I¡¯ve heard of. Am I some kind of monster or something?¡±

    I was almost willing to accept the spikes and weird tattoos as a fair price for the rest of my changes.

    Ok, enough about my changes. I knew well enough about having to work with the hand dealt to me, no use crying over spilt milk, no point moping over what you can¡¯t fix and all that. Life¡¯s unfair, it¡¯s crap, find a way to claw something better for yourself or learn to live with it. I have...

    Making a list of goals was something I¡¯d always found almost calming. Any problem could be broken down into a series of smaller steps and achievable goals. Staring at a problem as one whole big insurmountable thing could make you freeze up and drown in despair.

    ¡°Baby steps¡­¡± I muttered.

    First I needed to find a hospital and get myself checked out, maybe they will know what is going on. I hope¡­ At least maybe they can direct me to a shelter or something, so I have a place to sleep and work out what the hell I was going to do. Maybe I could find the spare key and steal back my stuff from the rents before they find my nest egg or pawn my stuff. Hopefully they won¡¯t have time to do it before I get back if they are hunkered down in their bunker waiting for the apocalypse.

    Wait¡­

    Was that what this was? The apocalypse, like the rapture? Is that why I look like this? I was left behind with the sinners and I¡¯m not a demon or something? No¡­ Calm down! There is no fucking way those two were right, there has to be a rational, non-conspiracy explanation for all of this¡­ I just then to take this one step at a time. First things first, the rain has stopped so let¡¯s look for a hospital and get myself checked out. I just hope the spikes and skin condition weren¡¯t something that was going to kill me.

    Rolling up the legs of my jeans, I stepped out from the cover of the climbing equipment and resumed my journey. My feet nearly slipping out of my sneakers with every step but they would have to do for now. Even if I heal fast, I¡¯d rather not have to endure stepping on broken glass or a needle. Once I got closer to the city, I¡¯d be able to use more familiar landmarks to navigate my way to the hospital.

    * * *

    As I reached the seedier parts of the city proper, I was greeted by the sound of sirens. The entire city sounded like a battlefield, I could hear gunshots, explosions, sirens, vehicles crashing, not to mention sounds I couldn''t interpret.

    You would think that this was room for concern, but I only felt relief. Before I reached the chaotic noise of the city, I was starting to feel like the last person or monster on Earth. I just needed to find my way to the hospital and hope I don¡¯t run into trouble.

    It was night and the sun had set maybe an hour ago, but despite the dark I had since realised I had no difficulty seeing. Everything was within my sight in all their dark glory. I passed under a lone working streetlight and noticed something I had missed earlier, shadow clung to me even in the light, maybe especially in the light.

    It was barely noticeable where I wore clothes but I had left my torn hoodie behind in the park and my arms were bare. My arms were sheathed in an aura of darkness than clung to me, It was barely half and inch thick. ¡°A new addition to the pile of things for a doctor to look at,¡± I softly growled.

    I was starting to feel impatient, I just wanted to reach the hospital and pass out in Emergency while waiting for my turn.

    I picked up my pace, but something, instinct maybe, warned me of danger and yelled at me to keep out of sight. With the noise of sirens and gunshots in the air, it made sense to listen to that voice. Like I had done all too often in my childhood, I kept to the shadows as i moved, trusting them to hide me.

    A police car sped past me, sirens roaring, in the same direction as I was heading. Three blocks later I could hear gunshots, yelling and a buzzing, sizzling sound. The commotion lay between me and the nearest hospital and I was exhausted, who knows how long a detour would take? I slowed down and crept closer make sure to hide in the shadows and parked cars.

    A man, a skinhead stood in the middle of the intersection ahead, I could see several bodies already laying on the road.

    Peeking over a car I spotted several police trapped hiding behind their car as the man waited for them to come out of cover. The man looked familiar but his back was to me. In his hand was a bloodied knife, but I couldn¡¯t see any other weapons that would explain why the police were hiding.

    The man stepped forward and I caught a glimpse of the side of his neck and a very familiar tattoo. Branded into his neck, in black ink was a pair of runes akin to lightning bolts, SS. I did know him! He was one of the neo nazi skinheads my foster parents associated themselves with, he was a dealer. Drugs, guns, stolen military surplus, you name it and Jakob Adler was your man to provide it.

    My rents were customers.

    A new police car arrived on the scene and skidded to a stop nearby. I watched from my hiding place as an officer with her hair in a tight bun, leapt out of the vehicle whilst drawing her sidearm. But Jakob was quicker. I held my breath, as he raised a bloody hand towards the officer, before drawing his blade across his palm. I could only stare in horror as lightning burst forth from the wound, sending the officer flying.

    I heard one of the officers yelling into the radio, as her body come crashing back down.

    ¡°Shit shit shit! We have a ten thirty three! Officer down! The fuckin¡¯ guy with the lightning got Jocelyn! She¡¯s down!¡±

    Somehow still able to move, she tried to reach for her gun where it landed. Arm stretched out, her fingers grazed the it¡¯s grip, just before a second bolt of lightning tossed her back into the air to land in a smoking tangled heap.

    ¡°Fuck! No! The bastard hit her again! She¡¯s not moving! We need more boots here!¡±

    ¡°NO JAKOB! STOP!¡± I jumped out of my hiding place and ran at him, barely noticing the one of my arms had turned to black mist.

    The skinhead threw me a look of confusion, obviously not recognising my changed form and barely pausing before he turned his bloodied hand on me.

    I winced preemptively, knowing I would be unable to dodge in time, as the lightning crossed the space between us grabbed at me. Only it didn¡¯t reach me, I watched as it arced around me like I was in a Faraday cage while my aura consumed it and grew thicker. Grew darker...

    Like a bully realising their favorite weapon no longer worked, Jakob¡¯s expression turned to panic as he sent bolt after bolt into me and my shadow. The shadow only grew thicker and thicker until I felt something inside me give away and the shadow burst forth like the strange child of supernova and blackhole consuming everything in its path.

    Where the shadow expanded, light was consumed. Frost began to form on surfaces as the heat was drained away. Lights went out as the electricity fed the shadow and people began to fall to the ground unconscious, starting with Jakob.

    I had no idea how to stop it. Last thing I felt before I fainted was fear and helplessness.

    * * *

    Groaning, I woke up in darkness, surrounded by concrete and steel.

 Arc 1: Into the Darkness, Chapter 3: Wraith

    <h2>Chapter 3: Wraith</h2>

    A lot of time and a lot of nothing had happened since I had blacked out and woken up in this place.

    The days had begun to blur and I know that term is overused, but believe me even darkvision doesn¡¯t help with keeping track of time when you are in a lightless cell underground. If it hadn¡¯t been for the routine, I would have lost my mind and likely never slept. Not that I slept well, everytime I shut my eyes, the helplessness of the night I changed and became this monster returned.

    As far as I could discern, I had been down here for at least a week since I first woke up. Maybe longer for all I knew. Every ¡®morning¡¯ a short pulse of piercing sound would wake me, its circuit going dead before I could open my eyes.

    Then, I would shake off the torn remains of that night¡¯s thin blanket, my spikes having shredded it in my disturbed sleep. After a count of about three hundred mississippi''s an ancient dumbwaiter system built into the cell wall, with an opening smaller than a phonebook would be used to lower a meal down to me.

    After returning my empty tray to the dumbwaiter, I had about six hundred mississippi''s to go to the toilet, use the cell¡¯s cold shower and dress in the jail¡¯s blue baggy jumpsuit.

    I would sense the circuit for the cell¡¯s intercom come alive moments before it even made a sound, then my interrogation would start. The guards were too afraid to be on the same floor as a monster like me, let alone in the same room.

    I usually lost track of time at this point, it was hard to keep count, while not answering the same questions over and over. Eventually they would give up and I was left alone, bored for what must be hours until my evening meal and a fresh blanket was lowered in. After again returning my tray I would try to sleep.

    I¡¯d been left to stew in my misery with nothing to do and frankly speaking, I was bored out of my mind. My cell had no books, not tv and not even so much as a rubber ball for bouncing, nothing to keep me entertained. If I weren¡¯t contemplating banging my head against the wall for entertainment, I¡¯d probably be impressed by the lengths they were going to prevent me from having anything that might help me escape.

    That included light, electricity and heating. My blackout had them scared, hell it had me scared. I didn¡¯t want to repeat that, I didn¡¯t want to possibly hurt people or feel that consuming emptiness.

    Which was why I had an entire night dark floor to myself and the only circuit they left on, was an extremely low voltage emergency strip light along the corridor outside, with only enough light to be visible but not illuminate anything. And no cameras.

    In my boredom I had explored every inch of my cell and I guess I could be thankful it wasn¡¯t too small at 7 paces from the door to the back of the cell and another seven paces across.

    The dumbwaiter and its small opening was at the rear of the cell, near a bolted down metal table and chair. Set in the wall just above the table was the dreaded intercom and in the opposite corner was a curtainless, no privacy, shower, toilet and sink. The bolted down frame and thin mattress of my bed lay against the same wall as my desk, thankfully as far as possible from the lidless toilet.

    I knew this underground floor was fairly large from the echo of my voice and I was sure there must be other cells, but they were empty. The only noises down here were me, the intercom and the occasional squeak of a rat. They weren¡¯t very social.

    In my attempts to fill my time down here, I¡¯d learnt the stone walls made for great acoustics and like a shower, there was an allure. On the night I changed I had noted my new voice had a very pure singsong quality and I loved it. Starting at first with single scale exercises, then graduating to any songs I could remember the worlds for, I began to sing.

    At first I began singly merely to keep myself sane in this mind numbing isolation, but like I really liked my new voice and singing really grew on me. I enjoyed hearing the notes my voice could reach and before long I had run out of songs I knew the lyrics for and had begun crafting my own.

    I¡¯m sure this became yet another reason for the guards to avoid this floor and they were probably talking about the creepy girl singing in the darkness. Yup that¡¯s me. But anyway, back to my morning routine.

    I was again counting to six hundred mississippi''s while I showered and dressed, reaching two five hundred and seventy two as I sipped up the front of my jumpsuit and the intercom buzzed to life. ¡°Wraith, it is question time again, I hope you will finally see things our way and cooperate,¡± the distorted voice of my interrogator had returned.

    Since I¡¯d first woken up in this place they had called me Wraith in the absence of any means to identify me without my cooperation and grudgingly I had to admit it sort of fit me.

    ¡°Wraith, you have been charged as an accessory to the murder of several civilians and a police officer, as well as the assault of multiple individuals including two more officers through the use of your powers. Witnesses place you at the scene of the crime and state you knew the main suspect Jakob Adler by name. If you don¡¯t cooperate with our questioning, who knows what might happen, maybe someone might forget about you, forget to send you meals¡­¡±

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    The voice let the threat hang in the air, waiting for me to respond. I doubted they would go through with it, but also I was isolated in a dark cell, had not been read my rights, had my phone call or met a lawyer so I decided not to press my luck.

    I took a deep breath and considered what I would start with. ¡°I am not an associate of Jakob,¡± I ardently refuted.

    ¡°Nor was I an accomplice. You think I was helping him? I was trying to stop him after he killed that officer. I knew his name because my foster parents are customers of his, he deals weapons and drugs in my neighbourhood.¡±

    ¡°What you said matches what we have on his rap sheet. It seems you do know him, but I doubt your story was truthful. But¡­ Tell you what, how about you give me your name and I¡¯ll actually go look into validity of your tale and see if we can drop those accessory charges,¡± the intercom mangled his good cop attempt, but I was willing to play along, I didn¡¯t really see any harm in giving him my name.

    ¡°My name is John Doe Smith, I am seventeen and from G?rwood,¡± I had barely finished speaking when my interrogator interjected.

    ¡°John Doe Smith? Think you¡¯re being funny do ya? Or that I would fall for such an obviously fake name? If you¡¯re not going to cooperate you can stay down there in the dark where you belong forever, you fucking creepy monster.¡±

    The intercom and it¡¯s circuit went dead and I found myself again in darkness.

    Stupid! Stupid, stupid stupid¡­ We¡¯re both stupid. Arrrghhhhhh!

    I forgot how ridiculous my state given name is. Sure it sounds like a fake name, but that asshole didn¡¯t even given me any fucking benefit of the doubt or a chance to explain myself. Fuck!

    I banged my head on the cold steel table and took a deep breath, followed by another and another until I felt the anger cool.

    ...He might still check and if he doesn¡¯t, is it that so bad?

    ¡°Look at the upside Wraith, you always hated that name for more reasons than you can count, Wraith is hardly a worse name and it means you can make this a clean break. A clean break from John Doe Smith, from the Andersons, from Adler and every other shitty thing in your past,¡± I reasoned with myself.

    Dropping the subject before I trapped myself into fixating on it, I took a drink from the sink¡¯s faucet and prepared myself for another round of singing.

    My cell¡¯s silence wasn¡¯t interrupted by me starting to sing, but instead the sound of thumping, crying and screaming from what must be a cell in the floor above me. Listening carefully I could just make out a voice, a girl I thought, but I couldn¡¯t tell anything more about her from it.

    The occasional words breached the concrete ceiling and she seemed to be repeating herself, so over time I started to piece together what she was saying.

    ¡°Let me out! ...don¡¯t belong ...re! I want... mum! She... ... looking... me!¡± I could feel myself growing increasingly agitated and concerned. I wanted to comfort her but I couldn¡¯t and for the first time since I was placed down here, I began to feel trapped.

    To an extent I had been content to sit down here content, safe from and to the outside world, aside from the boredom I had everything I needed to survive down here. But now? Now for the first time since I was placed down here, there was something wanted to do beyond the concrete walls, that I wanted to do.

    That feeling of instinct from the night I changed returned and I wasn¡¯t sure why, but I knew I needed to let myself do what it wanted. Sensing what it wanted, I let myself raise my arm and pointed the palm of my hand at the corner of the stone ceiling. A started yelped as a ball of darkness shot out of my hand and a wave of a fatigue washed over me.

    Tiny bits of concrete were raining down on my table, creating small pings that rang out as they landed on the metallic surface. The girl had gone silent. The ball of darkness had blasted a small hole in the ceiling¡¯s corner the size of my fist. I found myself stepping onto the chair and climbing up onto the table. I looked up through the hole and a young girl stared back.

    The girl had to be around her mid teens and her hair was black, dyed if her brunette roots were telling the truth. She wore the remnants of what looked like alternative makeup, the ruined remains of dark green lipstick and smokey eye liner were still visible. The girl had brown eyes, but they were bloodshot and swollen from crying.

    I realised I was staring and I felt my cheeks grow hot. Awkward...

    ¡°Sorry about the hole¡­ My name is Wraith, I wanted to talk to you¡­ Did you want to talk?¡± I honestly prayed that my appearance wouldn¡¯t scare her. She dragged the course sleeve of her jumpsuit across her eyes and sniffed.

    ¡°I want my parents... I want Kalia¡­ I miss them¡­ I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m here... ¡° A look of horror took over her face.

    ¡°They were fighting! I died¡­ I died! The morgue! I woke up¡­ They took me!¡±

    The girl was obviously distressed and what she was saying was unbelievable, but no more so than what I had been through. She¡¯d died? Hell, she might actually have it worse than me and that¡¯s saying something.

    ¡°You look like you need a friend. They call me Wraith, can I hold your hand?¡± I gave her my best attempt at a comforting smile and watched as she choked back a sob and nodded.

    ¡°My name is Kelly¡­ Kelly Newhall¡­¡±

    I stretched up and carefully inserted my hand up into the hole, slowly wiggling it to keep my forearm¡¯s spike from catching on the rock. As my hand entered her cell, she grasped it and with my thumb, I soothingly stroked the back of hand.

    A hug was impossible and I didn¡¯t have much experience with them, but I tried to get the feelings across. I think they got through to her.

    We silently held that embrace for as long as I could stand before we finally let go. I then sat on my table and stared up at her through the hole where she lay, looking back down at me in the darkness.

    We talked for hours. About my parents, being kicked out of home and everything since and she told me about back home, her family, the kids she hung out with, about the Emergence and her friend Kalia.

    Eventually I heard the dumbwaiter lowering my evening meal and I warned her to hide the hole before the guard¡¯s bringing her meal noticed it. Before covering it with a spare jumpsuit, Kelly flashed me the first beautiful smile I had seen grace her face and whispered one word.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

 Arc 1: Into the Darkness, Chapter 4: Mirror

    <h2>Chapter 4: Mirror</h2>

    Waking up, I gouged a fresh score into the cell wall with my arm spike. It had been six weeks since I had met Kelly and started my tally. From the hole I had blasted between our cells, a friendship had grown. Everyday after my questioning, I would stand on my table and tap on the ceiling, before waiting for Kelly to uncover the hole so we could speak.

    Aside from my singing, she was my one comfort in the darkness. The sole human contact I had in my time here and I cherished my time with her. You might be asking isn¡¯t this a bit much?

    Well¡­ Aside from the voice in the intercom she was my only human contact, someone who wasn¡¯t a guard anyway. More than just comforting each other though, we were in this together.

    We had each others backs.

    I think if things had continued how they were before I met her, I would have slowly retreated into myself, despite all my self professed contentment in my situation. Kelly had her own battles.

    Every few days the guards would take her from her cell and return her severely injured. Broken arms, lacerations, deep dark swollen bruises were all too common and at the worst end of this callous and calculating abuse was the amputations.

    I was left to pick up the pieces after these sessions and comfort my broken friend, Kelly. Every time I forced myself to see what they had done to her and watch with disbelief, as without fail she slowly healed. I no longer doubted she had died, not after witnessing her regrow limbs, like she had never lost them in the space of hours.

    The strangest thing thing about her healing wasn¡¯t its miraculous power, but how it wasn¡¯t retroactive. Any birthmark or scar from before the Emergence returned, even the scar on her arm from when she fell out of a tree as a kid, was there after the arm regrew.

    Kelly would never talk about happened when they took her and I feared any attempts might have broken her. My suspicions were that it was more than aimless torture, it was brutal but there seemed to be a methodical direction behind it. To me it seemed like they were testing her regeneration, for what reasons I couldn¡¯t say.

    The only thing I knew for sure was damage they left behind, a physically broken Kelly, emotionally fraying from the trauma.

    Hand holding and softly sung lullabies through our mousehole, helped bring her back from the edge each time and a timid fragile version of her smiling self would return after she had healed. About half an hour later or six hundred mississippi''s by my counting she would be making jokes and telling stories again. I wouldn¡¯t admit it to anyone, but Kelly had become the Sun shining into my dark cell.

    Finishing my prison standard breakfast, I returned my meal to the dumbwaiter and began my morning ablutions in preparation of another round with my interrogator. After their response to my name, I had gone back to stonewalling them and refusing to answer any questions about who I was. Any other question I would answer, how I was sleeping; poorly, was I comfortable, etcetera.

    Previously in my interrogations, I had futilely made requests for items to curb my boredom, like an mp3 player of music to listen to, an internet connection with any safeguards of their choosing to browse. Even my requests for just books and magazines, seemed to be privileges conditional on my cooperation. The powers that be, however had thrown me a small bone and decided it would be safe to lower down to me with the dumbwaiter, a rubber bouncing ball.

    It didn¡¯t seem to matter much to me anymore.

    Having finished enjoying my cold shower, I slipped back into my jumpsuit and sat at the table and waited for the intercom circuit to go live and the interrogation to begin. I felt it go live as energy flowed into the intercom and it began to emit its customary crackle.

    ¡°Inmate Wraith, your questioning has been put on hold for today. Due to a few bleeding heart activists, caseworkers have been permitted to visit individuals such as yourself. The fool woman will be down on your level in the next fifteen minutes. We tried to warn her, but she insisted. Won¡¯t be my fault if a monster like you murders her and gets this nosy program cancelled.¡±

    I began to panic as the intercom went dead. Someone was coming down here? No one comes down here! What if she spots the hole and reports it? What am I going to do?

    My gaze drifted to the nest of shredded blankets I had been collecting and I grabbed a couple handfuls of the ragged cloth. Jumping up onto the table, I hastily shoved the rags into the hole, blocking out the faint light shafts that managed to slip through the cover on Kelly¡¯s end.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Satisfied it would hold up against a cursory inspection, I leapt back down and lay on my bed assuming a casual pose. The lift at the end of the floor dinged as it opened and I listened as the sound of light footsteps approached me. A beam of light came into view followed by the strange sight of a woman in a dress suit wearing a head-mounted flashlight.

    ¡°Bah, yu¡¯d thunk they¡¯d turn on the light for me, ay?¡± the woman complained.

    ¡°Yu can call me Ms Clark, I¡¯ve been assigned to yu by the Oh Em Ahh,¡± she introduced herself. Aside from not being able to place her accent, was it Australian maybe, South African? I had no idea what she was talking about. OMR?

    The confusion must of shown on my face, because she gave me a sympathetic smile, ¡°I¡¯d forgotten how little information yuse would be getting down heeya, the Oh Em Ahh is the Heroes Organisation for Mutual Assistance ayd Resources.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s heroes now? They¡¯re letting monsters like us play at being heroes?¡± I probably sounded slightly bitter, this seriously felt unbelievable. I was down here in a cell for trying to stop Jakob, while others like me got to be heroes.

    By the way her brow furrowed with disapproval, I could see my use of the word monster hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed. If not monsters, what were we? Why did this mean so much to me? Perhaps deciding now wasn¡¯t the time, she let it slide.

    ¡°Oh yeah, a few Emerged stepped forth as heroes ayd in particular after their valiyunt actions limiting damage during the second Emergence, they generated a lot of good Pee Ahh. Thanks to that popularity, we¡¯ve been able to push through this case workah program,¡± Ms Carter passionately recounted.

    ¡°My job heeya is to help Emerged like yuself, who have found themselves trapped in bureaucratic limbo unable to prove their identity. I will open open a case file forya ayd listen to yu telling yur story ayd then I¡¯ll verify it ayd make any necessary changes. The guards have yu marked down as Wraith, canya tell me yur name?¡±

    Holy crap, was someone giving me real actual help, unlike that asshole interrogator?

    Hell maybe she¡¯d even be able to get me out of here if she heard my story! I was trying to not get my hopes, but it was hard. If heroes were a thing and she was associated with them, maybe they would be fixated on justice like in the comics and my story would move them!

    It all just spilled out of me like a flood. I couldn¡¯t stop. I spoke till my throat burned and my breath ran ragged.

    I told her my legal name, how I got it, my upbringing, how I was kicked out of my foster parents home right before I changed and the accident then misunderstanding, I believed landed me in here.

    Ms Clark, never once interrupted me or accused me of lying, making things up or messing with her. She just took notes on her clip as she listened and recorded our conversation on her phone. When her pen finally stopped moving, I let slip a hopeful but anxious smile.

    ¡°You actually believe me?¡± I asked, failing to coach my voice in indifference. The mask didn¡¯t return easily.

    ¡°Well I don¡¯t thunk yu would be lying to me. There is plenty of verifiable parts to yur story, beginning with contacting the Adoption ayd Fostah Care Analysis ayd Reporting System. By the way, What would yuse prefer I call yu?¡± The case worker direct and honest manner really seems to have a soothing effect on me and I was starting to grow fond of her accent.

    The effect was almost intoxicating, my long ingrained protective walls and inhibitions were no match for it.

    ¡°I have never liked my old name¡­ I was wondering¡­ would you be be able to call me Robin? Robin Wraith?¡± I blurted out.

    I could feel myself hoping she would like my name and I was surprised by how much it meant to me. I¡¯d only just meet her, but she was the first person of authority to treat me like a human.

    ¡°That is a pretty name for a pretty girl like yuself. Would yu like me to make it official?¡± I could feel myself starting to flush and I hoped the darkness would hide it.

    ¡°Yes please! If you could? I like Wraith but being called just that is kind of dehumanising¡­ Wait¡­ Did you just call me pretty? You¡¯re lying right?¡± In the darkness, I had yet to see my reflection despite darkvision, but I was sure I looked monstrous. How could I not?

    Rather than arguing the point, Ms Clark reached into her handbag, pulled out a small makeup mirror and passed it to me through the bars before turning her head torch on me. I hesitantly peered into the mirror and it took my breath away.

    My face was framed by long raven hair, my skin was a pale white with the same swirling tattoos of black smoke like the rest of me and my eyes were grey with the same swirling black mist in the whites of my eyes. Rather than looking like some sort of ghost that had crawled out of a well like I expected, I had this adorable button nose, elegant cheekbones, long fluttering eyelashes and full bodied black lips. I was an eerie mix of pretty, cute and beautiful.

    Her method of argument had worked. ¡°Thank you,¡± I quietly muttered, still taken aback.

    ¡°It is no problem, little Robin. Our times up ayd I have to go, I¡¯ll be confirming yur story in tha meantime. I¡¯ll see yu in about a week.¡± She then pulled a hairbrush from her bag and passed it to me and winked.

    ¡°A pretty girl will be needing a hairbrush. I won¡¯t go telling the guards if yu don¡¯t,¡± I smiled at her conspiratory whisper. Then after returning my smile, Ms Clark turned around and walked back to the elevator.

    I couldn¡¯t wait to tell Kelly about this!

 Arc 1: Into the Darkness, Chapter 5: Chocolate

    <h2>Chapter 5: Chocolate</h2>

    My next appointment with my caseworker Ms Clark happened nine days later, by my count. My count¡­ In my cell¡¯s unchanging darkness, I¡¯d used my routine of meals and sleep to discern the days, but there had been doubts. What if my jailor¡¯s had been messing with my sense of time? My contact with Kelly had put those doubts to rest.

    I know she never gave me an exact date for her next visit, but at five days I had started expecting her. At seven days I was getting impatient and at eight days I was getting worried and disappointed. I had been starting to think she was the latest in a line of authority figures who either hated me or didn¡¯t care enough to remember me.

    Then on what was probably the morning of the ninth day as I sat at my desk and waited for my routine interrogation to begin, I heard the elevator ding, followed by familiar footsteps on the hard concrete floor.

    I rushed to my cell¡¯s barred entrance as Ms Clark came into view. ¡°You came back!¡± I cried out. I surprised by my own reaction.

    ¡°Looks like young Robin is excited to see me, ay,¡± the caseworker said smiling before she muttered something extra. ¡°But I guess I¡®m the only person they let you see. That is wrong¡­¡±

    ¡°Its ok, Ms Clark! I am just happy to see you again,¡± I reassured, before pivoting topics, ¡°Did you find anything!?¡±

    ¡°Calm yuself Robin, I was able to confirm that there was a John Doe Smuth in the fostah system, but he had not been reported missing,¡± she started

    ¡°I called up the school he had been going to ayd they confirmed that he had not been to class sunce the day before the Emergence. Sunce he was over sixteen, they only had to notify his guardians, that he was a truant, instead of the state. The school said his guardians, the Andersons had told them he had decided to drop out. I thunk they planned to hush up he were gone so they could keep claiming the foster checks until his eighteenth birthday.¡±

    ¡°Those fucking bastards!¡± I found myself, growling and for a second I swore I could feel the bars bending under my grip. They had also spent the barest minimum when raising me, often leaving me in charity box clothes and going to school without lunch money, while they spent the foster checks on themselves.

    I should have realised they wouldn¡¯t have let their kicking me onto the streets or my going missing, disrupt their hustle.

    Ms Clark to her credit, just waited for me to calm down before probably breaking all the rules and placing her hand over one of mine as I gripped the cell bars.

    ¡°It seems suspicious to me ayd when I went to the residence of the Andersons ,they tried to claim John Smuth was out but still living there, until I threatened to call police ayd suggested thus may turn into a murder investigation. The two of them quickly changed their tune, but instead claimed you ran away on the night of the Apocalypse,¡± Ms Clark grimaced slightly.

    ¡°Utterly unpleasant people, at least the fostah payments have now stopped ayd they have been referred to the IRS for fraud¡­ Good Riddance,¡± she said, brushing her hands on the sides of her suit skirt as if they had suddenly been dirtied.

    I wanted to voice my spiteful joy at their situation, they were finally getting theirs, but the words stuck in my throat for me to dry swallow.

    ¡°Anyway, since it was a suburban area during the day, we didn¡¯t have any footage or witnesses of Mr Smuth¡¯s flight from home. However tracing backwards from the incident wuth Mr Jakob Adler we were able to trace yur trip all the way back to a park, using various sources of cctv ayd other cameras. Now thus is the important part,¡± I felt her give my hand a reassuring squeeze.

    ¡°We have no footage of yu entering the park. We do however have poor footage of a male individual, roughly matching a description of Mr John Doe Smuth ayd the clothes he was wearing when he left school that day, running into that park in the rain. Wuth no footage of him leaving. Given this footage, the other evidence ayd that all of this matches yur account of events. By the new guidelines we were able to confirm yu, Robin Wrath ayd John Doe Smuth are one ayd the same. I even took the initiative to update yur name ayd other details. Yu¡¯re now official, Robin.¡±

    My cheeks felt wet. I opened my mouth and found I couldn¡¯t speak. My chest felt tight. I tried to take a breath and found myself choking back a sob. I was crying? Raising a finger to my face, I caught a tear that had been rolling down my cheek. I was crying. I hadn¡¯t cried in years. Why now? I¡¯m not sad, I think?

    I felt a hand gently stroking my hair and looked up to find Ms Clark making soothing noises.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.¡°There, there. Let it all out. Yu must have been holding all that in for some time. I am sure yu are relieved to have yur past back.¡±

    ¡°Now, I wasn¡¯t able to bring yu a cake, the guards might have thought I was smuggling you a file, ay. But I brought yu a little something to celebrate becoming official,¡± reaching into her handbag again she pulled out two large bars of wrapped candy. A bar of Hershey¡¯s milk chocolate and a bar of Reese¡¯s peanut butter cups.

    ¡°Thank you!¡± I was crying harder now.

    ¡°I hate to leave yu when you¡¯re crying even when they are happy, relieved tears. But, unfortunately I have to go. I¡¯ll see yu in about a week again, hopefully I¡¯ll have more good news then.¡±

    I sniffled out a goodbye, then listened as she walked off to the elevator.

    * * *

    I had almost brought myself back under control and stopped crying, I heard Kelly¡¯s muffled whispers as she tried to get my attention. Pulling myself together, I climbed up onto the desk and removed the rags, I was using as a makeshift plug to hide our hole.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m late Kelly¡­¡± I sniffled.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been crying, what¡¯s up? That interrogator call you a freak again? You know you are not!¡± I could see Kelly getting herself worked up, angry on my behalf. I guess it was kinda a big deal, given that she¡¯d never seen me cry the entire time we had known each other. She¡¯d done a lot of crying in those seven weeks, and I¡¯d done none.

    Not a single tear, couldn¡¯t even when I¡¯d wanted to.

    ¡°No Kelly! I¡¯m happy I think¡­¡± Her face had disbelief written across it as she gave ¡®dont bullshit me¡¯ look.

    Apparently my stoicism wasn¡¯t healthy, Kelly had said as much more than once. And gods forbid if I were to tell her ¡®Don¡¯t worry about me because I¡¯m used to this sorta treatment.¡¯ Last time I said that she threw me a baleful glare through our hole, followed by an exasperated ¡®That¡¯s not a good thing!¡¯

    ¡°No¡­ Seriously. Ms Clark came. She managed to prove who I am. She also made the name you gave me, official. And I have a surprise for you, close your eyes and hold you hand out!¡±

    I opened the two bars of chocolate and broke off a bit of each. Reaching up through our hole, I placed the bits of chocolate in her hand.

    ¡°Chocolate! She brought you chocolate! I¡¯ve really missed this,¡± Kelly softly squealed trying not to attract any attention.

    ¡°Yeah she brought me some to celebrate getting my identity and new name in order. And yes I¡¯m going to share it with you! To keep your spirits up till we get you out of here!¡±

    ¡°Get Us out of here. Us! I¡¯m not leaving you behind Robin!¡± Kelly was always vehement on this when the subject came up. I¡¯m not sure exactly when it became serious, but eventually our talks of what we wanted to do if we got out of here, morphed into talks about what we will do WHEN we get out of here and then to an unspoken agreement to escape.

    I wanted to get her out of here as soon as I could, she didn¡¯t deserve to be here. She hadn¡¯t hurt anyone and she definitely didn¡¯t deserve the torment they were putting her through. So I planned to help her break out.

    The thing is I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to escape. I¡¯d help her escape, but not myself. I was bored sure, but they fed me two square meals a day, gave me a bed to sleep on, I had this comforting darkness and down here I couldn¡¯t hurt anyone. Not to mention if we escaped she had her family and Kalia, plus she looked normal.

    Even If I¡¯d hated my former male beansprout physique with pale skin, brown hair, I¡¯d taken for granted the benefits of being normal. Blending in. Not sticking out. The only thing I had that was interesting were my former bright blue eyes. I¡¯d gotten a monkey¡¯s paw of a deal.

    I had no one outside, I looked like a monster and could be easily recognised if I escaped. Then there was the fact, I wouldn¡¯t be able to pursue my life goals of finishing school and going to university, if I was a wanted fugitive.

    ¡°If we are going to break out, I can knock out the guards and the electricity, then blast any walls in our way. You know where we are?¡±

    ¡°Well I¡¯ve seen the inside of the elevator when they take me for my... ¡° Kelly trailed off. Talking about the sessions that left her broken was almost impossible for her.

    ¡°In the elevator, this floor is B1. There is only one floor below mine, B2, your floor. We are in the basement underground. Their buttons are hidden behind a false panel. Above us is the ground floor, where they take me is the floor above that.¡±

    ¡°So best option is I¡¯d have to blast my way into your cell, then blast our way into the floor above and then outside. That is going to make a lot of noise. If It didn¡¯t I would of blasted a hole big enough to climb into your cell already¡­ I¡¯m sick of only being able to hold hands¡­¡± I was grumbling by the end of it.

    I really wanted to cuddle her, the concrete between us be damned!

    ¡°What if we tried something else? Like sneak a message out, slip a note into the rubbish, steal a phone or somehow morse code¡­ Dammit If Kalia knew we were here she could disguise herself as a guard and break us out! We could likely walk out as three guards and they would be none the wiser about our escape till we were long gone!¡± Kelly sounded so enthusiastic, as she started imagining ever more impossible escape plots.

    Her enthusiasm was replaced by a somber expression.

    "I wasn''t meant to know about her abilities... I never told her, but I followed her to the mall when she wanted to sneak in alone. I was insecure... I saw her disguise herself, make herself look older, more human. Y''know less foxgirl, no fluffy ears or tail. She even changed the colour of her hair and clothes. I¡¯m not sure if it was a trick, magic or she is some kind of shapeshifter, but it was amazing."

    I had to smile, she seemed to think the world of her friend Kalia and I knew if I ever got out of here I¡¯d have to meet this small fox.

 Arc 1: Into the Darkness, Chapter 6: Hope

    <h2>Chapter 6: Hope</h2>

    A week had come and passed, well eight days going by my etched tally and thankfully Kelly and I hadn¡¯t made any ill conceived escape attempts that might have got us killed or worse.

    I was tempted though¡­

    Tempted by one of Kelly¡¯s ideas.To use one of the cells on my floor as a base from which to slowly tunnel our way out till we hit the sewers. Kelly however at the second thoughts at the idea of repeatedly suffocating to death over and over in the event of a cave in. I guess immortality has its terrifying downsides, as Kelly¡¯s predicament keeps reminding me.

    Fuck that was a scary concept¡­ I¡¯m getting shivers just remembering it.

    Aside from the occasional morbid details, the probably futile escape planning was kinda fun and definitely seemed to raise Kelly¡¯s spirits. I know it is cliche, but it felt like us against the world. Well we also enjoyed talking about life outside, our favorite tv shows, movies, music, sport even stuff like what parts of Penrith we liked.

    Sherwood, where Kelly lived, actually wasn¡¯t that far from G?rwood, where my rents lived. Both Sherwood and G?rwood were built between the old city and the new industrial center during the city¡¯s iron smelting boom to house the new factories and refineries. Where G?rwood was suburban, Sherwood was a mix of brutalist residential towers and a secondary business district away from Penrith¡¯s CBD.

    After the boom turned to bust, the outer suburbs fell to poverty, crime and disrepair. Sherwood had somewhat recovered, even if it had taken a few decades and now it has a major shopping mall and new developments starting to spring up.

    I actually used to go there for work and to get away from my foster parents and their incendiary friends, so Kelly and I had lots of places in common we could talk about, like the big mall. We both were fans of the local band Cement Butterflies and Kelly would even join me when I sung their albums.

    People talk about the American dream, but for those younger than Generation X, the Penrith dream was to make it big and get the hell out of Penrith. Cement Butterflies might have started out in Penrith and their songs might have been motivated by the city, but they made for LA at first chance, only ever coming back as one of the many stops on their country wide concert tours.

    Overtime I had gone from sitting on the metal table in the corner of my cell when talking to Kelly to having moved my thin mattress on top of it, so I could talk to Kelly laying in my own bed. By moving her pillows and blankets to the floor of her cell next to our hole, we could have what we jokingly called slumber parties. We¡¯d then talk late into the night, long after lights out had been called on her level.

    ¡°I love you,¡± I¡¯d whispered to her, a few nights ago knowing she had fallen asleep where we had been talking minutes earlier.

    Ok I both really liked her and am a coward. Why risk ruining what we have with a love confession? What if she doesn¡¯t like girls? What if she doesn¡¯t like me the same way? Honestly, that terrified me, the possibility I might ruin our companionship and find myself down here alone again. So I know I am being an idiot, but I have no idea what I am doing. I have never been in love before and as much as I wanted that part of my changes, I only became a girl less than three months ago. I¡¯m scared...

    I promise I¡¯ll confess my feelings properly when we both get out of this hellhole.

    I¡¯d been in here a bit over two months by my count and I was honestly wondering why they were persisting with my daily interrogations. I had told them everything, my life story, which Ms Clark had confirmed. They now knew who I was, apparently they even had CCTV footage that showed I arrived after the altercation started and even tried to stop Jakob, before he blasted me and set off my incident.

    Honestly I think my interrogator just enjoyed venting on the monster locked in the basement, it was clear he didn¡¯t like emerged. Tormenting me was probably the highlight of his day. He probably got off on it.

    I now knew there had been a second set of storms a couple nights ago, because my interrogator was ranting about how there was now another wave of freaks and how he couldn¡¯t believe people were letting other freaks play heroes. This was the second Emergence Ms Clark had mentioned.

    But that is old news. So here I was this morning, singing a popular disney song as I enjoyed my cold morning shower. Cold because they thought the heat and energy might ¡®charge¡¯ my powers. Not that I really minded, the cold didn¡¯t bother me anyway, especially since my changes and at least the shower had good pressure.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    I had reached a count of four hundred and fifty mississippi''s so I knew my time was running out before questioning started. Quickly hoping out of the shower, I towelled off and dressed in my fraying jumpsuit. My hair was still wet, but there was little I could do with a damp towel and no hair dryer.

    I did take a moment to run the hairbrush Ms Clark gave me, through my hair and begin one hundred strokes. Wet hair tangled and it sucked. Have you every tried to pull a brush through knotted hair? It feels like someone is grabbing a handful and ripping it out from your scalp. Fucking painful! I didn¡¯t think the saying ¡®Beauty is pain¡¯ would be so literal.

    But more importantly, Ms Clark told me I was pretty and I wasn¡¯t going to let her down. I was going to look after my hair like she said.

    My count had reached just under seven hundred mississippi''s, the intercom was late. Had they given on on interrogations, or¡­ I could feel my hope rising. The elevator at the end of the corridor dinged and the sound of heels clicking on concrete, rang out. My hopes were being rewarded!

    I was eagerly sitting on my bed frame near the cell entrance in one second flat. If I had a tail, it would probably be wagging. Ms Clark was currently my number two favorite person in the world and she was here! Head mounted light and all. Play it cool Robin, we don''t want to be too eager and scare her off. Play it cool¡­

    ¡°Well look whuse excited to see me again, ay,¡± I could hear the warmth in her voice, hiding behind that amused smirk.

    Wait? Did I have a tell?

    Crap what do I say? Remember play it cool. Pretending to cough, I hid my face behind my hand and gathered my thoughts, ¡°Ok you got me. Guilty as charged for once. How long are you extended my holiday down here?¡±

    ¡°About that¡­ First I brought yu anuther treat,¡± She reached into her purse and a baby ruth bar materialised in her hand, I swear they must not search her on entry. Maybe I can ask her to sneak me in a file or key.

    ¡°While yu chew on that, let me tell yu a aboot myself, little Robin. I dun¡¯t know If yu placed my accent, but I¡¯m from Nu Zuland. I started off as ay legal aid lawyer for the indigenous community, then I was a publuc defender. I later ended up as a whustleblower ayd activist uncovering abuses in the justice ayd prison systum. Ended up having to leave tha country. Got my green card, then my citizenship. I ended up working for Amnesty International here, working to abolush the death penalty and help prisoners wuth appeals. The Oh Em Arr recruited me from thaya to help people like yuse.¡±

    Holy shit, when she told me she was a caseworker I assumed she was a clerk or social worker, not a legal expert or human rights activist. I almost dropped the half eaten chocolate bar on the gritty floor. Holy fuck Ms Clark is amazing, like a superhero but instead of a powered Emerged person, her powers were legal knowledge and probably knowing people.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling yu thus so yu know I can help yu ayd that yu can trust me. I¡¯m building a case to get yu out of here or at least to a lower security facility where yur rights won¡¯t be ignored ayd yu won¡¯t be kept in abusive conditions. Unfortunately thaya are moves to register Emerged ayd classify their powers. I thunk I can use ay trial classification program being run in these facilities as a bargaining chup. Thus system is probably going to be rolled out nationwide sooner or later. All I need is for yu to cooperate.¡±

    Wow she could probably get me out of here. I could start my life a fresh. Fuck... I forgot about Kelly. How would she get out? How could I even think about abandoning her?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I can¡¯t do it,¡± wow it was depressing turning down this offer, I bet she could hear it in my voice.

    ¡°Is thus aboot the tests? I¡¯ll make sure to oversee them ayd make sure yu are fine. I¡¯ll also have a release or transfer agreement signed by a judge beforehand,¡± crap Ms Clark sounded confused and worried about me.

    ¡°No, I just can¡¯t leave here.¡±

    ¡°Is thus aboot yu thunking yur a monster again? Because yur not, yur a scared girl in a situation yu don¡¯t belong in.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ It is just¡­ I have reasons I can¡¯t leave here,¡± I was trying to avoid saying it, what if this backfired and Kelly got moved to a different cell, where we couldn¡¯t talk. Neither of us would last here long if that happened. But maybe she can help¡­

    ¡°If I tell you, I need you to promise you won¡¯t tell anyone here, even if you can¡¯t help¡­¡± I gave her my best attempt at puppy eyes. I hoped it would work, but I knew I didn¡¯t have the practice other girls got growing up.

    ¡°Robin¡­ I¡¯d ¡®ave hoped yu would trust me by now, but I promuse ayd I will do everthung in my power to help yu. I know yu wouldn¡¯t be hiding anything for bad reasons.¡±

    ¡°Well it''s like this¡­¡± I started telling her about Kelly.

    Telling her about how I came to meet Kelly Newhall, about the hole between floors, about how Kelly died. How Kelly came back to life and wound up here. About how they hurt her. About everything we talked about from her friends, family, about Kalia. About how I didn¡¯t want to leave her here. By the end I was crying and I was sure I saw tears in Ms Clarks eyes too.

    But behind her tears were eyes filled with determination.

    ¡°I need to get both of yu out of heeya Ay Ess Ay Pee! Thus place needs to be shut down! I know I can¡¯t talk to her, if they are keeping her heeya in secret, but I¡¯ll confirm what I can ayd then I¡¯ll I¡¯ll cause such a media storm, they wull not be able to cover thus up! I¡¯m gunna see that tha hammer of justuce is brought down on thus place ayd everyone running it!¡±

    Ms Clark was furiously ranting, but her righteous anger made me feel relieved, we might both get out of here. She was going to save us!

    We¡¯re allowed to hope, right?

 Interlude 1: Ms Clark

    <h2>Interlude 1: Ms Clark</h2>

    10:03am, 23/01/2019, Ms Clarks¡¯ home, Penrith.

    There were times I regretted leaving Amnesty International. Work at the OMR was not just challenging, but we lacked legal or historical precedent to fall back on. In Amnesty International we knew what laws, case studies, court cases and International law applied. We knew the game and the rules, but the OMR lacked that certainty.

    In the aftermath of the Emergence the State and Federal Governments scrambled to get a handle on the situation, issuing emergency measures. State Governors and the President issued Executive Orders as the legislative and judicial arms scrambled to keep up.

    At a Federal level the White House ordered the formation of the Government Task Force on the Emergence, to investigate the phenomenon, issue interim legal procedure and coordinate government departments and agencies. You had to wonder which Presidential minder arranged it.

    At a state level it varied with some states taking a more lax approach and with others rapidly contracting then modifying private prison facilities and ordering the mass arrests of potentially dangerous Emerged citizens.

    Constitutional rights and Civil liberties had been waved on mass for Emerged individuals, as pundits debated if they counted as human or citizens at all and in the chaos many of these illegal measures had yet to be challenged in court. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for Emerged individuals to have been denied a lawyer, a trial or even the ability to contact friends or loved ones in the rampant hysteria.

    When the OMR headhunted me from Amnesty International, I felt obligated to step in and try to counter these injustices. I hadn¡¯t stood by in the face of injustice back in New Zealand and I wasn¡¯t going to now, but this legal mess was a source of constant headaches.

    That said I relished the challenge and what kept me going was the victories.

    Restoring Emerged individuals¡¯ legal identities, reuniting families, freeing individuals from unlawful incarceration, taking charge in precedent setting civil rights legal battles and the list went on. However at the end of the day, the best part was my clients¡¯ relieved smiles when I managed to help them.

    Robin was one of my most complex, but favorite cases. It seemed pretty unbelievable thinking back...

    * * *

    Saturdays are normally my day off, the one day of the week I would sleep in for and use to recover from the stresses of my work week. So you can probably imagine my happiness at being awoken by my mobile ringing out at half past six in the morning. Now normally at this point I would have turned it off and thrown away it across the room, but it was my boss.

    Now my boss, Ian O¡¯Reilly is a reasonable guy as far as bosses go, so this call had to be an emergency or something of equal urgency. Now for some time we had been trying to get access to the private prison complex, the Penrith Centre for the Confinement of Dangerous Emerged and the Emerged within. Only recently we had managed to obtain a court order compelling the prison to allow us access to the inmates.

    The Centre had in defiance waited until the deadline for their compliance, to arrange a first meeting. That¡¯s where I come in, Ian wanted a person he could trust to make the first contact and the case he passed onto me was apparently the Centre¡¯s best hope for scaring us off.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    The case I had been assigned was an unknown Emerged responsible for a two block blackout, multiple unconscious individuals and a suspect in the murder of a police office, so I was understandably worried. My meeting with the warden only inflamed those worries, the man referred to my client as a monster and warned me against going down to its cell.

    I found myself being escorted to an elevator where I was swiped in and handed a head mounted flashlight. I¡¯m not sure what was more baffling and scary, being handed the flashlight or the guard sending me on my own. It seemed that this place was run unlike any prison I had visited during my time at Amnesty International, which was unnerving and if I am allowed to brag, working with prisoners on death row and corrupt prison administrations, I don¡¯t get unnerved easily.

    The oddities continued to build up. When the lift opened up on the second basement floor, I emerged into a pitch black level. Flashlight had revealed empty cell after empty cells as I ventured deeper into the thick darkness. Private prison¡¯s never leave cells empty if they can, those bastards often overpack them to increase their payout.

    My imagination was starting to play havoc on my mind, as I wondered what they were keeping down here, but what I actually found blew me away. An unkept young girl in a torn jumpsuit, anxiously peering out at me. My heart instantly went out to her and I found myself letting my old accent slip out.

    This girl¡¯s testimony was stranger than fiction and too big to be a lie, I found myself believing every word. Not that I wasn¡¯t going to investigate her story to confirm it, I had to do that If I wanted to help her.

    And when I did help her, Robin Wraith, her smile drove away the oppressive darkness of her surroundings. It was smiles like that, that keep me doing this job. I couldn¡¯t wait to see the smile she would give me when I got her out of here.

    Only she didn''t want to leave and when I learnt why, Kelly, I felt rage and panic in equal measures. Anger at this system and what it was doing to these young girls and fear, I would have little recourse without political backing or widespread outreach and either options risked the ¡®problem¡¯ disappearing, when any scrutiny was applied.

    I needed hard evidence, friends further up the food chain and a plan..

    * * *

    That brings me back to the present, I needed to confirm Robin¡¯s account again, then seek out witnesses and evidence. I had proof of a Kelly Newhall existed and a death certificate that confirmed she had died, but that told me nothing, a lawyer could claim Robin had heard of the incident in prison.

    No, I had to interview her friends and family, in particular the individual called Kalia who was reportedly at the scene of her death. After that I would have to interview the officers and paramedics who were on the scene and follow the chain of custody from the scene to the morgue and beyond. If there was evidence it would be there.

    Checking a file, I dialled and then raised the phone to my ear.

    ¡°Newhall residence, what¡¯s your business?¡± an exhausted voice answered. This must be her mother, I need to be careful not to insinuate her daughter may be alive, it would be cruel to raise her hopes in such an event, I am wrong or we fail to produce her.

    ¡°Good Morning, My name is Ms Clark with the OMR. I am sorry to bring this up, but I have a few questions concerning the circumstances of your daughters death, in regards to an active investigation,¡± I was used to making phone interviews and didn¡¯t have to worry about my accent sneaking into my speech.

    ¡°Is this about that beastly Emerged who caused her death? The fox girl? We both showed her hospitality and she went and got my daughter killed! I want her off the streets! You hear me?¡± bitter anger replaced the exhaustion in her voice.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ma¡¯am, I can¡¯t comment on the details of the investigation,¡± I proceeded to ask her about how she was notified of the incident in its aftermath, if she was asked to identify the body or saw it at all, no and details on how to find or contact her daughter¡¯s friends. She was able to provide me with the number of several of their parents and where they hung out in Sherwood mall, but refused to talk about Kalia or as she called her, ¡®that beastly girl.¡¯

    I thanked her for her time and apologised for her loss before hanging up. I needed to make a few calls then hit the streets. Those kids might know where this Kalia is.

 Arc 1: Into the Darkness, Chapter 7: Despair

    <h2>Chapter 7: Despair</h2>

    Time is strange in prison, you have all the time in the world, but it moves slowly. Monotony blends the time together, it becomes hard to tell the days apart, then the weeks. If I was here longer I am willing to bet the months and years would blend together as well and that terrified me. Routine becomes everything, you begin to use it to judge the time of the day and the days from each other.

    But when the routine is disrupted, big or small, it is obvious and it is disturbing. My routine wasn¡¯t just meal times, interrogations and the rare visit by my caseworker. My routine also included attempting contact with Kelly, after my interrogation or meeting with my caseworker and then talking into the night.

    One of us would remove the plug at our end of the hole and call out just loud enough for someone at the other end to hear, but no one else. It had been eight days since I last saw Ms Clark and since the day before yesterday I had been unable to contact Kelly. I could feel my my distress was growing by the rough hour.

    I had spent most of last night pacing my cell, climbing onto my desk and trying to contact her every thousand or so steps. I had stood on my desk attempting to call out to her through our hole until my legs gave out.

    I knew they took her out of her cell, every few days, to do things that would make a serial killer flinch, but they always returned her the same day. Always.

    The first night I had just hoped that they had accidentally killed her and she was just taking longer to recover. That sounds horrible, I know, but she would survive and it would have explained her silence. The second night however I doubted that, I wasn¡¯t hearing groans of pain or muffled weeping. Just silence.

    My morning meal sat uneaten on my tray, I was meant to have returned it already, but that wasn¡¯t important right now. I hadn¡¯t showered or changed my jumpsuit. They weren¡¯t important right now either. I wasn¡¯t even counting mississippi''s. I just¡­ I didn¡¯t have the heart to care, not while she was missing.

    I guess it wasn¡¯t surprising then given how on edge I was, but I jumped when the intercom buzzed to life for my interrogation.

    ¡°Are you ready to talk?¡± the crackling voice asked, my interrogator. I was sure I only had one interrogator despite the intercom¡¯s distortion.

    ¡°Is Ms Clark coming? I want to speak to Ms Clark!¡± She usually came roughly every seven to nine days and I knew she could help. Maybe she knew what was going on. Maybe she had already gotten Kelly out. She could tell me!

    ¡°She won¡¯t be visiting anymore.¡± The statement echoed with finality. My heart stopped. It felt like the air I was breathing had turned to water. Drowning me.

    ¡°What! Why? I need to speak with her! She¡¯s my caseworker!¡± I was pleading, I need her. She was the only one who could help.

    ¡°Bad things happen when little monsters run their mouths and tell lies,¡± the voice taunted, dripping with smugness and cruel joy.

    ¡°She won¡¯t be coming back, or talking to anyone¡­¡±

    They knew! They knew what I told Ms Clark! Was Kelly safe? Calm down Robin, they can¡¯t kill her permanently. They can¡¯t right?

    ¡°Where¡¯s Kelly!? What have you done with her?¡±

    ¡°She has been transferred¡­¡± the voice began, ¡°Unlike a monster like you, she is useful. Think of all the normal people she will help once we work out how she heals and replicate it. Of course I doubt she will enjoy the scientific method. She didn¡¯t enjoy the preliminary work we did here.¡±

    ¡°Is that what we are to you? Monsters and lab rats? We¡¯re people! You can¡¯t do this! We have rights! We have lives and dreams!¡± I hoped there was a surviving shred of empathy, of humanity in his shrivelled heart.

    His cold laughter, sharp from the intercom¡¯s distortion cut through me.

    ¡°You are freaks. There are two types of freaks, useful freaks like your friend Kelly and useless freaks like yourself. I doubt anyone outside will care or miss you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the real monster here,¡± I bitterly accused, he was probably enjoying my distress. No, I knew he was enjoying my distress, he had been enjoying tormenting me the whole time. I knew his type, I met my share growing up, the type of person who enjoyed not only having power over someone, but exercising that power to hurt them. The real monsters were human.

    ¡°Think what you will. I am not the one in a lightless hole in the ground and this interview is over. I hope you enjoy the guest we have arranged,¡± the intercom went dead, just like any hope I had possessed.

    The elevator at the end of the corridor dinged. A tiny part of me, waited for the click of Ms Clarks heels, but I knew it wasn¡¯t her.

    A flickering blue light accompanied by an electric crackle, followed by the heavy footfalls of the approaching visitor, grew closer.

    The ¡®guest¡¯ came into view and began cackling with amusement when they saw me. In walked Jakob Adler in the same type of blue prison jumpsuit as I was wearing. Resting above a cut in his hand, was a ball of crackling blue lightning he was using to illuminate the dark space. I sensed the faint charge of an electronic device attached to his chest pocket. A camera.

    ¡°Well looky what I found here! Now when the guards ask me to do them a favor, it is just business. I scratch their backs, they scratch mine. But when they told me I was going to see the person who put me in here and then gave me your file, you can guess my surprise. And well I¡¯ll be damned, I would have never recognised ya. Here you are a little lost doe in the dark. A little John. Doe. Smith,¡± he taunted, dragging out my old name, one word at a time.

    His face burst into a bemused smirk, ¡°If only the Andersons could see you now, a little queer faggot tranny monster. It¡¯s nice when work becomes play, I am going to have lots of fun with you¡­¡±

    The crackling ball of lightning in his hand swelled and a cold sweat ran down my back at the predatory smile he wore.

    Things were about to get even worse...If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    * * *

    I was a mess. I felt like it. I looked like it. Probably smelt like it too. Probably smell like sour sweat and burnt meat.

    Jakob had visited my cell daily for the last nine days. My skin was a patchwork of different sort of burns, lichtenberg figures ran under my swirling tattoos like trees in dark mist. I had been coughing up blood and my insides screamed, I doubted there was a major organ left, aside from my brain, that wasn¡¯t burned.

    Actually take that back, I¡¯m not sure my brain escaped unscathed. The periodic muscle spasms, leg jerks and shaking hands said otherwise.

    My heart beat was still skipping the occasional beat, before pounding like the footfall of a sprinter as it caught up. Probably the result of yesterday¡¯s torture, when my heart briefly stopped. He had been called away after that.

    I was starting to think I might have some sort of slight healing ability myself, despite all the pain, I didn¡¯t have as many burns as I should and I was still alive. For now.

    You¡¯re probably wondering why I didn¡¯t fight back or why I didn¡¯t end up losing control and explode again like the night I turned, draining all the energy sources around me. Well¡­

    I remembered back to the first time he visited my cell, the warning he gave me was fairly explicit.

    ¡°What did they say your friends name was? Nelly? Shelly? Ellie? Ah that¡¯s right, Kelly! If you fight back, if you harm me, if this little camera goes dark,or you lose control, I can¡¯t promise something bad won¡¯t happen to her. If what they say is true, there are a lot of things one can do to an immortal regenerator¡­¡± he threatened.

    They really knew how to get to me and... I probably deserved it, it was probably my fault Kelly was gone and definitely my fault if something happened to Ms Clark. I had told her about Kelly. It was better a monster like me died, than cause her further harm.

    I am sure there were people watching through the camera at his chest. If I fought back, used my powers, they would get to see and study them. If I didn¡¯t then I got tortured, which I expect was perfectly fine with them. The bastards were probably still gaining data from my cooperation.

    When zapped, my natural instinct seemed to be to absorb the electricity he was lashing out at me with, but that was what got me in here in the first place, eating his attacks. If I just absorbed his attacks, I might lose control again. I¡¯m not ready to risk ending up again in an energy feeding frenzy, plus I knew what that would lead to.

    Trouble, for both me and Kelly, wherever she is.

    So I did my best not to. I felt like clenching my gut in anticipation of being punched. It worked to an extent, but I am sure I don¡¯t need you to ask you to imagine how hard it is to keep a figurative muscle clenched, while screaming on the floor in agony. And when I lost my hold on my absorption it kicked in.

    Several of the sessions I felt myself grow close to a threshold, like your stomach after overeating, a bucket about to overflow or a battery with too much charge. The side of my scalp was still scabby, with weeping blood caking my hair, from when I dashed my head against the concrete floor to keep myself from losing control.

    Jakob hadn¡¯t liked me depriving him of his fun and he viciously made up for it the next day, ending with him accidently stopping my heart. I can honestly say I felt some relief as my vision darkened before he restarted it with a panicked zap.

    I was barely eating, I was in too much pain to stomach more than a couple mouthfuls. I showered but didn¡¯t clean myself, I just sat under the droplets letting them cool my burns and wash away the blood from burst capillaries. Ms Clark¡¯s Hairbrush sat untouched, I both didn¡¯t care enough to groom myself and it had become a memento of sorts to me.

    The intercom across the room buzzed and I dragged my waterlogged corpse of a body over to the desk and sat with a wet squelch. The voice, that distorted voice of my tormentor blared into life, ¡°Enjoying your social times freak?¡±

    I remained silent. I wasn¡¯t going to give the reaction he wanted.

    ¡°Not going to beg? Cry for me? You¡¯re no fun. Still you have proven you can cooperate. Maybe there is still hope for you, unlike most you kind.¡±

    It seemed my interrogator was more interested in ranting about Emerged, than questioning me today. Not that I minded it was a sort of respite, maybe they wouldn¡¯t send Jakob down today. I perked up slightly at that thought. He was now ranting on about Emerged criminal and how Emerged are a danger to everyone.

    This guy seemed to pathologically hate us, not that I hadn¡¯t already realised it.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to round up all your freaks and classify your powers then register you so you can¡¯t act out. No matter what any of you say. We even announced the classification system we¡¯ve developed and been testing earlier today.¡±

    I continued to remain silent, let him have what he wants. There is no reason to bring his anger down on me or others.

    ¡°Still silent? Well I guess you¡¯re learning your place. Some nobody Emerged has already sent out a manifesto on the web and to the broadcasters, in response to the announcements. Some freak going by the name Unbowed.¡±

    ¡°An Emerged dare threaten us normal people!? We are just doing what we need to do to prevent your kind taking over. It is only time before they learn their places like you have,¡± the voice sneered.

    It was all I could do not to destroy the intercom, a ball of turbulent shadows grew in my hand, struggling to be released. I forced myself to remember he was beyond my reach out of harm''s way but he could still hurt me. Or Kelly¡­

    ¡°A whipped dog like you is no fun,¡± the sound of a chair scraping as some stood, screeched through the intercom before it went quiet.

    I laughed to myself in the darkness, he had given me something I had lost. Motivation. I was angry enough to do something, anything! I might not be able to fight back, but I sure as hell wasn¡¯t going to be a whipped dog for his amusement. I needed to get out.

    Fighting my way out was probably a bad idea, they had guns and I don¡¯t think I could absorb bullets. Escape was almost impossible, every plan Kelly and I had come up with was fanciful at best, suicidal at worst.

    I thought back to all the survival training my conspiracy nut foster parents had put me through. With their constant fear of nuclear wars, Government crackdowns, apocalypses, civil wars and revolutions, I had been forced to endure a unique education outside of school. Navigation, map reading, signals and communication, hunting, basic electrical work, how to find or make clean water, how to build or scavenge tools from my surrounds and other survival craft.

    It was about time this shit came in use. I would enjoy the irony later, if their training actually helped me get out of here.

    First step was to take stock of my surroundings. I was at least 2 levels underground beneath was Kelly said was the administration block. My cell was one of several on this floor, all were empty except for mine.

    My cell had three concrete walls and the fourth was steel bars sunken into the concrete. There was a small drain in the floor of my cell and another in the shower. The level had no lightning or heating, the infrastructure was there but the circuits were more than off, they felt like they were disconnected. There were three circuits on the floor i could feel, the intercom which was off, a microphone near the lift at the other end of the floor and a length of emergency strip lighting running the length of the corridors floor, with only enough light to be visible rather than illuminate anything.

    The furniture was stainless steel and either bolted then welded down or sunk into the concrete floor. My bed was a metal slab, no springs. My mattress was a ragged sheet of foam. I had a pile of shredded blankets and a few new ones.

    The first idea I had was to use my rags to clog the cells drains and leave the water running till they sent someone down, but they could easily turn off the water elsewhere and the other cells had drains. The circuits had limiters on them so I couldn¡¯t use them to power myself up or overcharge myself.

    I ever so slightly pulled on the strip lighting power, before stopping and letting go like a rubber band. I had an idea. It was probably as frivolous as some of Kelly and I¡¯s earlier plans. I remembered back to my signals lessons and morse code, could I tap out a message via pulling on the circuits power? Would it travel beyond the prison without getting drowned out? Would anyone even notice it? Would they care?

    Hell if I knew, but I was shit out of other ideas. So I got started creating a message I could transmit using morse code, like a telegram. An SOS. I finished scratched the dots and dashes into my cell wall with a spike. It was time to start.

 Interlude 2: Alexander Spencer

    <h2>Interlude 2: Alexander Spencer</h2>

    4:23pm, 29/01/2019, The Office of Alexander Spencer, Spencer Shipping International, Spencer Towers, Penrith.

    I was always grateful for this view looking out over Penrith¡¯s central business district, the harbor and the Great Lake beyond. The lake could be treacherous and sometimes hidden behind great banks of fog, but today the water was like glass and I could see far beyond Premonition Island with its rocky cliffs and lighthouse that stood guard of Penrith¡¯s historical harbour.

    Remembering to be grateful for all the good you recieve was an important lesson. Letting yourself become Jaded by success or your surroundings not only wasn¡¯t becoming of a man, but it blinded you to what was important. Things like integrity, honor, truthfulness, justice, generous charity and temperance, the virtues my family had built their success on. Virtues I had tried to uphold.

    My family had built their wealth on the lake, shipping lumber, ore, grain, processed goods, even people. With time and as Penrith grew from a port settlement, we grew too, investing in the city¡¯s transport infrastructure and in the mid 19th century we built the first train line connecting Penrith to the growing web of rail on the East Coast, ensuring the city¡¯s prosperity.

    Spencer Shipping had grown into a truly international transit and shipping conglomerate reaching far beyond Penrith and the great lake that birthed it, into rail, road, air and sea. Penrith over time had been rocked by cycles of boom and bust that brought in both opportunist companies and hopeful families, when things were good and then when things went bad, running away, taking the jobs with them and leaving behind the destitute.

    Through all that the Spencers had stayed, choosing only to set up branch offices in prosperous cities like New York and Los Angeles, remaining in the city on the lake they were grateful to. I was grateful to my forebears, being able to stare out at the lake kept me calm, helped me make decisions that could make or break a company. The sort of legacy I was carrying on my shoulders didn¡¯t allow for mistakes.

    My personal life had been scarred by such mistakes. Mistakes that had cost me my marriage and more. For nearly eighteen years I had done as my forebears had done and poured my lifeblood into the company, running away from the failures in my personal life. I should have known something else would eventually fill that void.

    Since the first night of the Emergence, I had often found myself staring out at the lake hoping for answers, whether here at the company my family left me or at the family home to the north of the city.

    With the Emergence the opportunists, parasites that they are, had swooped in again and I found it deeply troubling.

    Years ago Yelmorn had moved their research, development and testing departments here, away from prying eyes and now since the Emergence they had been both given sanction and contracted by the Government Task Force for the Emergence to investigate Emerged individuals and other phenomenon.

    Yelmorn had hired private military contractors for exploratory expeditions into the mysterious ruins now in Seattle and in Penrith they had established contracts with the local police and a private prison that had turned itself into a containment facility for the Emerged. Where these parasites were allowed to infest, corruption would fester and the city, my city, would suffer.

    Yelmorn had already approached Spencer Shipping, requesting our logistical support for their local operations in return for not just payment, but access to any of the benefits of their research.

    Allowing the early discussions for such a cooperation to take place, I had used the chance to investigate, running their books by forensic accounts for irregularities that could provide clues to their actions, hiring investigation firms to root out all their unnamed holdings and try to uncover the truth of their operations. Yelmorn seemed to be accomplished at covering their tracks, but the little I had found was disturbing.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    They were seeking out bidders interested in buying access to DNA, bone marrow, tissue samples and other medical as well as experimental data on Emerged individuals, as well as headhunting people who may be able to replicate any findings. As bad as this was, nothing my employees had uncovered could prove anything untowards or actually illegal, but it was a start. I would later dictate a polite letter of decline, they had already given me everything I wanted from the negotiations.

    What I needed to do was talk to that woman from the OMR. She obviously knew something, maybe even had witnessed something based on the hit they placed on her. Saving her life, while letting everyone think the hit had succeeded had been a mess. I don¡¯t know if we could have pulled it off, if I hadn¡¯t already had people watching her.

    My men, reliable as ever had been the first on the scene with an ambulance and they had spirited her away. Thankfully the knife wound only resulted in internal bleeding, a pleural effusion leading to a collapsed lung and an extreme cardiac arrhythmia. It was honestly remarkable, the blade hadn¡¯t damaged the heart. Only narrowly avoiding major damage, the blade barely scraped her heart causing a dysregulation of cardiac rhythm.

    After cooling her down, stabilizing her wounds, reestablishing sinus rhythm, draining the pleural cavity and re inflating her lung, they issued a radio call stating she had gone into cardiac arrest. After that we swapped the ambulances, one ambulance delivering her to a private facility under an alias, another carrying a fresh arrival from the morgue was met at the nearest hospital by a doctor in our pay and declared dead on arrival.

    She wasn¡¯t in safe waters yet, but I was confident she could pull through. Through I was prepared to call in a few favors is necessary to ensure she recovers, you don¡¯t get this rich, or stay this rich without making sure a few well placed people are in your debt.

    Once she was stable and awake, I hoped to talk with her. There were few who had access to the Penrith Centre for the Confinement of Dangerous Emerged that could be trusted not to be complicit in whatever was going on and her record spoke for itself.

    Hopefully she could help me crack this conspiracy open, so it could be dealt with openly, or if that was impossible, well the Emergence had opened new avenues for seeking justice¡­ Heroes, vigilantes and even individuals such as that ¡®villain¡¯ Unbowed, had their own sense of justice and it could be used, cultivated and directed.

    The corners of my mouth couldn¡¯t help but creep up into an amused smirk.

    On that note I checked my in-pile. There they were. I gave the documents with all their legalese another read over, double checking all the minutiae and signed with a slight slourish, establishing a new charitable trust to help fund the Penrith local branch of the Heroes Organisation for Mutual Assistance and Resources. I would likely have to throw a few galas and charity balls to encourage my vapid peers to part with the contents of their wallets and keep it topped up.

    I chuckled at the thought of what those morally rigid hero-types might think if they learned more about their generous benefactor. That would be an absolute riot, I wonder if they would keep the trust¡¯s money or reject it, not to mention if they would come after me directly or just play a game of cat and mouse.

    As much as I want to head out, crack knuckles on skulls and force a breakthrough in the case tonight, I think instead I will exercise my patience. Showing up at 2 Limbo 2 Furious might be more productive, grab a drink and maybe overhear a few rumors. Barb might have a terrible sense for naming things, but she makes a French 75 just how it should be made. The speakeasy is certainly a step up from the old Limbo and thanks to my assistance, she let me install my own private chair.

    I¡¯ll need to change on the way there. Well, if I don¡¯t want the headlines I¡¯ll be reading tomorrow to be, ¡®Penrith¡¯s Prince of Shipping seen at illegal bar for Emerged. Is he hiding something?¡¯ or some other tabloid rubbish. They could never even imagine the actual truth. I was used to leading double lives to get work done and even as an escape, but they paled in comparison to this one.

    Walking across the room, I stood in front of a blank section of wall and rolled my shoulders as I watched an opening dissolve out of the wall before my very eyes, revealing a hidden room. Grabbing a biometrically locked suitcase, I purposely strode to my private elevator as the missing section of wall appeared behind me.

    I was the prince of this city and soon it would be time my enemies know it.

 Arc 1: Into the Darkness, Chapter 8: Discovery

    <h2>Chapter 8: Discovery</h2>

    I wasn¡¯t sure how long it had been since I began my SOS. Four days? Maybe seven days?

    Previously I had managed to keep track of the days by tracking the routine I called days and marking them on the wall, but that system had broken down. I was now sleeping irregularly and instead of meal times, I just picked at the cold trays of food when I was hungry. My waking hours were filled with mind numbing hours repeating my SOS, interspersed with periods of introspection and malaise.

    Had my SOS reached anyone?

    My routine had grown hazy, no it had ceased to exist and Ok, I had also neglected keeping track of any other means of taking time. Cut me some slack, girls might have a reputation for multitasking, but I was new at it, my hope of rescue shattered, my friend and lifeline gone and I was making a last ditch attempt at calling for help and if that failed, I was going to be making a break for it and if they want to stop my escape they would have to kill me.

    I hadn¡¯t been interrogated in days, which gave me more time to focus on my plans, but I can honestly say I missed the sadistic fucker.

    Unbelievable right?

    At least during his rants, I could catch a glimpse of what was happening in the outside world, through whatever has earned his ire and was the subject of his anger. The radio silence also worried me, I remembered all of his subtle comments about being useful and I wondered if this silence meant I was no longer useful.

    What would happen if I was no longer useful? Would they just forget about me down here, leave me here forever or eventually stop feeding me? Would they kill me and perform autopsies on my corpse for science?

    I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to be useful either, look where that got Kelly. They hurt her over and over for who knows what purpose and eventually took her away to study.

    And then there was Jakob, I couldn¡¯t believe how readily they seemed to have teamed up with him. He was a neonazi! He killed a cop! But they were perfectly happy to negotiate with him, offer him rewards to work for them.

    The system was rotten.

    I¡¯d grown up intimate with that truth, police always protected my foster parents ilk and cracked down on those who showed up to protest them. I should have expected pigs to cosy up to bigoted fash.

    I remembered watching Charlottesville on social media back in 2017, when they held that far right rally. They turned up with guns, knives and cudgels, they assaulted multiple people, one even drove a car into a bunch of counter protestors killing one, all while the pigs protected them. It happened over and over, despite the growing body count due to extremists like my so-called guardian¡¯s friends, police always protected them and targeted counter protestors for arrests.

    I guess the Emergence really had changed nothing¡­ Well maybe escalated things.

    I had been expecting them to loose Jakob on me again, since I had begun to heal from all the burns and other injuries he had inflicted on me. My heart had even stopped skipping beats. I actually hadn¡¯t seen him since the visit where he accidentally stopped my heart.

    I¡¯ll be honest, I didn¡¯t miss the torture. What? I¡¯m not that desperate for human contact.

    That said, his torture had one twisted benefit. His lightning seemed to have charged me, overcharged me actually. It was a unique sensation, I felt energetic, but also likeI was full after eating. It felt as if I only had to reach out and every bit of that power he¡¯d thrown at me, would be at my fingertips. When I wasn¡¯t SOSing, I was experimenting with this feeling.

    The first thing I tried was summoning and holding the energy I¡¯d used to blast the hole between Kelly and I¡¯s cells. This time I wasn¡¯t fatigued. This time instead of it shooting off and exploding on contact, it sat tamely in the palm of my pale hand.

    A perfect ball of writhing shadows. It was as if someone had taken the sun, miniaturised it, dyed it pitch black and placed it in my hand. It was beautiful. Mesmerizing actually, as i watched corona of shadow flare out before arcing back towards the almost liquid surface. Coooool...

    Wait¡­ Fuck! What am I meant to do with this? I can¡¯t throw it, the guards might hear it.

    I had to EAT IT! No, not that way! I meant reabsorb it!

    I stared at the petulant weaponised darkness in my hand and willed it to back into me. I ended up closing my eyes and focusing on the mental image of it shrinking as the energy returned to me. I couldn¡¯t feel anything happening.

    Hesitantly, I peeked with one eye¡­ Yes! My hand was one hundred fucking percent empty! Trumphiant, I leapt and gamboled about around the cell.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    So recap. I could seemingly absorb energy such as heat, light, electricity, as well as umm biochemical or bioelectric or... Ok well I wasn¡¯t sure what I was taking when I drew from people. I just know I did when I overloaded on the night of the first Emergence, knocking a number of people unconscious. Now it seemed I could hold a limited amount of energy, like a battery almost but going by my first night, if I overcharged too far, I risked losing control and draining everything around me till I explosively release it.

    Releasing it seemed easy now, I could manifest it as a form of shadow energy, I think? It seemed like energy, I had never seen a mass of shadows act like that ball and the previous time it had blasted through solid concrete. Shadow energy, yup. What else?..

    I had almost forgotten! My arm turned to shadow back on the first night, how the fuck did that work?

    Ok I need to test this before I go on. Where do I even start? Imagining the ball shrinking seemed to work¡­

    I closed my eyes again and imagined an arm of shadows in place of my right arm. Who am I kidding? This is totally not going to work¡­

    Again I found myself peeking to see if my visualisations had done anything, my arm from fingers to shoulder was a thick black mist of shadows.

    FUCK YES! I knew I could do it, am I talented or what? I victoriously waved my arm in front of me and did a fist pump. Through one of the cell¡¯s bars¡­ Oh...

    Well that one seems useful, not sure how yet. Maybe when I work out how to do more than an arm, not like being able to turn an arm somewhat intagiable will get me out of here if the rest of me can¡¯t follow. I¡¯ll think of something when the time comes. Hopefully¡­ Yeah maybe not.

    Spooky ghost arm ooooooooo. Maybe I¡¯ll scare the guards to death.

    The explosive blasts of shadow won¡¯t be enough, unless I am seriously set on a ¡®glorious last stand¡¯. How many blasts could I get off before I get that fatigued feeling again? Four? Six? Ten? Twenty? Many many more before I can¡¯t do anymore, or will I just keep going till I keel over dead?

    Yeah¡­ I¡¯m desperate, but not desperate enough to put my faith, in breaking out of here, on an ability I can¡¯t predict. I need a new trick. Something cheap, I can keep using without overexerting myself. Like a club or a sword. Or! Or! Or an energy sword! That would be sooo cool, Kelly would be so jealous. A sword made of shadows!

    Ok Robin, focus! Closing my eyes once again I pictured a sword in my solid left hand made of the same shadows as the explosive balls. ¡®Use the force Robin¡¯, picture it, picture it. Picture. It.

    My focus slipped, as a giggle escaped me and I was thrown against the cold hard wall with a painful thud, as it blew up in my face.

    Pulling myself up from where I lay in a heap on the floor, I checked myself over for injuries. Aside from a bruised back and jarred arm, I seem alright, I must have consumed most of the blast that hit me. Ok so far my ability to absorb energy seems to be my most useful skill. If I could also absorb bullets I¡¯d be golden, but that is one thing I am not going to test!

    * * *

    A few tries later and take four was a success. In my left hand was sword of shadows, but not what I had initially been imagining, I gave up on that after it exploded on me the second time. I ended up modeling the sword after my spikes.

    I wasn¡¯t even sure I could call it a sword, the blade was roughly sword shaped, but it had no hilt and the blade was about two feet of jagged glassy black material like my spikes and wreathed in a corona of violent shadows.

    Hehehehehe¡­ The most powerful sword that is so fragile it can only be wielded by the delicate touch of a l-. Wait? Am I?

    Umm ok, different topic. Armor! Could I make armor out of this stuff?

    No sooner had my thoughts turned to how cool it would be to make armor out of this stuff, than the intercom went off with a static screech, again sending me jumping into the air. The sword left my grasp, shattering midair and returned to the shadows it was made from.

    ¡°How is my caged favorite freak today? I¡¯ve been a little preoccupied, you missed me?¡± Ok I take back ever insinuating I missed this asshole.

    ¡°Missed you? I was more wondering if your pet dog Jakob had bitten you. Is that why he stopped visiting? You sent him back to the pound?¡± It was probably not a wise move aggravating the interrogator, but at this point what was the worst that could happen.

    Distorted laughter came across the intercom as the interrogator chuckled.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Jakob? Didn¡¯t I tell you? I guess not¡­ He proved himself cooperative and useful, so now he is off doing work for people who could use a freak of his talents.¡±

    I could feel myself shaking. They let the fucking Nazi go!? Give him a job and sent him on his way? While I am still here as an accessory for the crime he commited!? You¡¯d think I¡¯d be used to the injustice of this place.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to have to make some changes around here, as you might know space in a prison like this is a valuable commodity and with the second night of the Emergence and more freaks like you out there we are going to need to make use of your floor. Which means we are going to have to decide what to do with you¡­¡± My tormentor let the words trail off into silence. The sick fuck was probably savoring the suspense.

    ¡°Easiest thing to do would be to hand you over to someone who can make use of you, find out what makes you tick. They don¡¯t necessarily need you in one piece or alive to find some utility out of your miserable existence.¡±

    ¡°Like what you did with Kelly!?¡±

    ¡°Sure, but I could however keep you from such a fate. You would of course have to let us collar you, I¡¯m thinking a remote activated collar or vest with a repurposed claymore mine and a tracker, so we can be sure you will remain a good little freak. Then you would have to make yourself useful, cooperate with testing, let them take a few samples, then you¡¯d best follow Jakobs example and keep me happy.¡±

    Those were my choices? Either a dissection table or an attack dog on an explosive leash?

    Before I could even think of a response, the muffled and barely audible sound of gunfire came across the intercom.

    ¡°What is God¡¯s name is that racket? Think on what I said while I deal with this.¡±

    The intercom and it¡¯s circuit abruptly went silent leaving me to wait and listen as the sounds of alarms, explosions, gunfire and shouting grew from a whisper as whatever was causing the mayhem above ground grew closer.

 Arc 1: Into the Darkness, Chapter 9: Sunlight

    <h2>Chapter 9: Sunlight</h2>

    Stale dust and crumbling concrete rained down on my cell as the walls shook and cracked from a nearby that explosion rocked the building above me. Not even fifteen minutes (or about two hundred and eighty three mississippi''s by my count) had passed since the commotion had started and I was right, it was getting louder and closer.

    The pandemonium outside increased in tempo like the transformation of a rave into a riot, with wild and strange sounds joining the cacophony of combat. Overlaid above the more recognisable sounds of a prison riot gone wrong were what could only be described as sound effects from a movie. I heard laser rifles and blasters, hair raising crackles of energy and gouts of furious flame, and found it fascinating and alarming in equal measure.

    I could make out guards yelling out orders on the floors above me as they prepared for whatever it was to reach them.

    What was going on out there and can I have in on the fun?

    No I¡¯m not some sort of battle junkie, but if there is a prison riot goin on I want my chance to vent my ¡®frustrations¡¯ on my captors.

    I licked my lips at the thought of getting my hands on the interrogator from the intercom, I know it was pretty unrealistic seeing as I had never seen his face and only heard his voice through a distorted speaker, but a girl can dream right? In the meantime I had some more practical worries.

    I¡¯m not sure anything really prepares you for this sort of situation, but given my first worry was this building coming down on my head, I backed myself up against the bars of my cell hoping elementary school earthquake drills were right about the relative safety of entryways.

    I¡¯ll be honest, out of all the things that could happen to me in this prison, being crushed or killed by a building falling on me was not something I had accounted for. Poor planning I know.

    My second worry was what I was going to do when whatever was tearing up the place reached me. Whatever it was, it didn''t seem like the armed guards were having an easy time stopping it from their panicked shouts.

    As much as the sound of the panicked shouts of my captors was sweet music to my ears, I couldn¡¯t count on the old maxim, ¡®the enemy of my enemy is my friend¡¯. I might be able to take advantage of this confusion and escape, but my experiences in life had given birth to a nihilistic inner voice that warned against such hope, ¡®You might have to fight for your life before the end¡¯.

    With an explosion of sound followed by my frightened squeals, the building groaned and screamed as it rocked on its foundations and a downpour of rubble shook loose as the walls and ceiling cracked under the strain.

    I held onto the cell¡¯s bars for dear life, as I was almost thrown to the floor. That one was close, too close, rather the destruction had finally reached the building that housed me with all the subtlety of a twenty-one gun salute.

    So, have you ever tried to meditate on a battlefield or in an earthquake? Not easy right? I am sure you can imagine the difficulty I had as I manifested my sword and ball of shadows ready to blast the first thing to enter my cell. I had scarcely succeeded, when the half the ceiling and one wall of my cell just vanished, allowing sunlight to spill into the darkness like water no longer held back by a dam wall.

    I hadn¡¯t seen sunlight in months and it was blinding. I felt like I was staring into the sun, my eyes burning even as I felt the sunlight suffuse me as I unconsciously consumed it¡¯s fortifying energy.

    I squinted as my vision returned and found myself looking up at the silhouette of a figure hovering in the now empty space no longer filled by concrete and soil. The figure descended into my cell and now I could now make out it was a caped man, garbed in a mask and armored bodysuit like something out of the comic books. A Hero?

    ¡°I heard your calls for help, young lady. I have come to rescue you from our mundane oppressors,¡± quoth the figure dramatically, with an outstretched hand.

    It may seem odd in such a moment, but I couldn¡¯t help admire my rescuer¡¯s heroic persona, he had a flair for the dramatic and was dressed for the part. His identity was concealed by a black helm with silver highlights, that covered the top half of his face and continuing the theme, his body suit was black with silver plating, that I couldn¡¯t help but think of as modern body armor crossed with a knight''s shining plate. Billowing out behind him as if caught in wind or threaded with metal wires was a regal dark purple cape.

    He still held his arm out as if waiting for a reply and I realised I had been open mouthed gawking at him. My face flushed red from embarrassment.

    ¡°A-ah! Thank you¡­ I wasn¡¯t expecting my SOS to actually work, or a- a hero to come to the rescue,¡± Ok I was stammering, sue me! I¡¯m embarrassed and I dare you to try and sound normal when an overly dramatic caped hero, breaks you out of prison.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Hero?¡± He chuckled.

    ¡°What makes you think I am a hero?¡± He growled. I gulped as he flashed me a vicious smirk. Nice teeth though, must have had good dental work and guessing by that defined chin he¡¯s probably a pretty handsome guy under that mask, not that I was into handsome guys. Not to mention he was probably at least double my age.

    ¡°I guess you haven¡¯t heard of the notorious villain, rabble-rouser and general menace to society, Unbowed. You mail one tiny manifesto to the media, threatening the government and all of a sudden they label you a villain. A villain! It''s absurd really!¡± he monologued, sounding equally amused and outraged.

    Is this guy for real? He is joking right? Who am I kidding, I would hug Marvel¡¯s Loki if he broke me out of this prison. Sign me the fuck up for Magneto¡¯s evil brotherhood of mutants.

    ¡°Villain or Hero, I¡¯m coming with if you¡¯re here to get me out of this hellhole,¡± I replied with as much bluster as I could manage. I¡¯ll sort this mess out later once I¡¯m the waaay outta here.

    He shot forward, causing me to let out a startled girlish squeal, as he scooped me up with one arm and tossed me onto his shoulder like a sack of grain. What? No princess carry?

    Watching over his shoulder, my dark home of the last few months shrank away as we glided up out of the hole, until we were just above prison¡¯s roofs. It was then I caught my first sight of the place of my long captivity. It was like an anthill disturbed. Prisoners poured out of the prison¡¯s four large blocks, as guards besieged by vengeful inmates holed up in small groups, unable to stop or pursue those making good their escape.

    Sirens screamed in the distance as the long arm of the law slowly responded. A flash caught my attention and I screamed at Unbowed to dodge as a beam of pure light shot past us before a pulse sped up it¡¯s length and exploded just above us.

    Fear stabbed at my heart, as the golden figure of a six winged avenging angel rose to confront us. Waving his hand, Unbowed materialised a wall of flame, sending it at the angel, before diving towards the ground.

    As we sped low across the prison grounds, a blue and green Captain America rip-off, summoned a plow shaped, shield of rippling blue energy and charged at us with all the intent of an incoming semi-trailer.

    Acting on instincts I had come to trust, I launched a ball of shadows into the ground in front of him. The ground exploded as if a shell had hit, sending a fountain of dust, dirt, grass and stone billowing into air, blinding the hero. The charging hero, now blind and unable to stop, continued forward into the crater stumbling as the ground disappeared beneath his feet and he went skidding across the ground leaving a shallow furrow behind him.

    ¡°Enjoy eating dirt fuckhead,¡± I jubilantly yelled, before yelping in pain as my trusty steed slapped the back of my legs.

    ¡°Watch your language, young lady!¡± my rescuer sternly reproached.

    ¡°What does me swearing have to do with you? You¡¯re not my dad and if you were I¡¯d blast you where the sun doesn¡¯t shine for leaving me in-,¡± I was rudely interrupted by a clod of mud landing in my open mouth, as another beam of light impacted the ground next us, showing us in earth.

    ¡°If I was your dad I would have raised you better, anywho I guess Seraph just washed your mouth out for me, well... Now that you literally have a dirty mouth,¡± he chuckled.

    Spitting out the chalky tasting dirt, I prepared to unleash a string of expletives at the angel and Unbowed, only to have Unbowed clamp a hand across my mouth muffling me, as he again rose into the sky.

    ¡°Brother! Sister! You would turn your talents, your gifts against your own kind in defence of these humans. Who kidnap us. Imprison us. Experiment on US! You should be standing with us! Against the true villainous personas in their perches of power. Who wield their state sanctioned force against us. Out of the most base fears and jealousy!¡± Unbowed peached with all the passion of a priest, the fire of a revolutionary and the soul of a poet, I felt moved despite myself.

    Oh God, I am being rescued by a real life Dadneto¡­

    Not swayed by his speech, the angel let loose another beam of light, hitting my villainous hero center mass. The angel flashed a triumphant grin that quickly turned to shocked outrage as the beam... Did nothing. It struck, pulsed and then just vanished...

    ¡°How? Damn you! I don¡¯t care about your twisted ideology or your damaging manifesto! The law has the ultimate right to judge and condemn the people, and the people in this facility have been condemned. Submit... before I make you submit, and justice may be merciful!¡± the angel said, her voice boiling with rage and frustration.

    ¡°The law? Condemned? I never saw, lawyer, court or ju-¡± Unbowed again covered my mouth, before shooting me a stern glare that seemed to say ¡®the grown ups are speaking.¡¯

    His voice came out a menacing whisper, cutting through the noise like the chill quiet after winter snowfall.

    ¡°Submit? I believe you are talking to the wrong person, I am Unbowed. I submit before no one and certainly not a puppet of this gangrenous justice. I will burn it away, wherever it rears its corrupted head.¡± Heat licked at my face, as a plume of fire coalesced in front of us, before shooting off towards the winged hero.

    With a sword of light, she cut through the flames, emerging unscathed to find the space we¡¯d once been vacated.

    Having dived out of sight behind one of the prison blocks, Unbowed made good our escape. I couldn¡¯t help but think it was barely in time, as new heroes arrived on the scene, the police scarcely far behind.

    As we flew off, low to the ground and dodging between skirmishes, I watched as the few inmates who remained, made their choices to fight or finally flee.

    Within minutes we were at the outskirts of the state forest and from my hero¡¯s shoulder I watched the lazy clouds drift across a brilliant blue sky. I¡¯d never realised how beautiful the afternoon sunlight was. A bit cliche, but I was free and I was going to find Kelly!

    Wait what about my revenge...

 Chronology of stories in Quietvaleries kammiverse

    <h2>Chronology of Stories</h2>

    26/11/2018 - Pre Emergence: Kammi Kettu 1, SongBird 1, Eunos 1.

    26/11/2018 - Post Emergence: Kammi Kettu 2, 3, 4 starts, Songbird 2 starts, Mouse 1 starts, Eunos 2, 3.

    27/11/2018 - Kammi Kettu 4 ends, Songbird 2 ends, Kammi Kettu 5, 6, 7 starts, Eunos 4, 5, 6 starts.

    28/11/2018 - Kammi Kettu 7 ends, 8 starts.

    29/11/2018 - Kammi Kettu 8 ends.

    30/11/2018 - Mouse 1 ends, Mouse 2 starts.

    01/12/2018 - Perspective in Songbird 3 starts (these chapters are set in a specific day before the character recounts the time skips), Eunos 6 ends.

    03/12/2018 - Eunos 7.

    05/12/2018 - Mouse 2 ends.

    06/12/2018 - Kammi Kettu 9 starts.

    08/12/2018 - Mouse 3 starts.

    09/12/2018 - Mouse 3 ends.

    10/12/2018 - Kammi Kettu 9 ends, Kammi Kettu 10.

    13/12/2018 - Mouse 4 starts.

    14/12/2018 - Mouse 4 ends, 5, Eunos 8, 9.

    15/12/2018 - Mouse 6 starts.

    16/12/2018 - Mouse 6 ends.

    17/12/2018 - Kammi Kettu 11 starts. Mouse 7 starts.

    20/12/2018 - Kammi Kettu 11 ends.

    23/12/2018 - Kammi Kettu 12 starts.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    25/12/2018 - Kammi Kettu 13 starts, Mouse 7 ends, 8, Eunos 10 starts.

    26/12/2018 - Eunos 10 ends,11 starts.

    27/12/2018 - Kammi Kettu 13 ends.

    30/12/2018 - Flashback Scene in Mouse 9.

    31/12/2018 - Eunos 11 ends.

    05/01/2019 - Perspective in Songbird 4 starts.

    07/01/2019 - Mouse 9.

    09/01/2019 - Mouse 10, Eunos 12 starts.

    10/01/2019 - Eunos 12 ends.

    14/01/2019 - Perspective in Songbird 5 starts.

    17/01/2019 - Kammi Kettu 14, The Will of Bastet 1, 2 starts.

    18/01/2019 - The Will of Bastet 2 ends.

    19/01/2019 - The Will of Bastet 3.

    20/01/2019 - The Will of Bastet 4 starts.

    22/01/2019 - Perspective in Songbird 6 starts.

    23/01/2019 - Songbird Interlude 1.

    24/01/2019 - Kammi Kettu 15, The Will of Bastet 4 ends.

    25/01/2019 - The Will of Bastet 5.

    26/01/2019 - Kammi Kettu 16 starts.

    27/01/2019 - Kammi Kettu 16 ends.

    29/01/2019 - Songbird Interlude 2.

    30/01/2019 - Perspective in Songbird 7 first half starts.

    01/02/2019 - Kammi Kettu 17,18 starts, The Will of Bastet 6.

    02/02/2019 - Kammi Kettu 18 ends.

    03/02/2019 - Kammi Kettu 19.

    08/02/2019 - Perspective in Songbird 7 second half starts.

    11/02/2019 - Kammi Kettu 20, 21.

    13/02/2019 - Perspective in Songbird 8 starts, 9, 10.

    14/02/2019 - Songbird 11.

    15/02/2019 - Songbird 12, Kammi Kettu 22 starts. The Will of Bastet 7 Starts.

    16/02/2019 - Songbird 13, Songbird Interlude 3, Kammi Kettu 22 ends. The Will of Bastet 8.

    17/02/2019 - Songbird 14, Kammi Kettu 23.

    18/02/2019 - Songbird 15 starts.

    20/02/2019 - Kammi Kettu 24.

    25/02/2019 - Songbird 15 end.

    31/07/2019 - Falling Over 1, 2, 3 starts.

    01/08/2019 - Falling Over 3 ends, 4, 5, 6 starts.

    07/08/2019 - Falling Over 6 ends.

    12/08/2019 - Falling Over 7, 8, 9, 10 starts.

    13/08/2019 - Falling Over 10 ends, 11, 12.

    14/08/2019 - Falling Over 13, 14, 15.

    15/08/2019 - Falling Over 16.

    31/11/2020 - A Wolf in Penrith 1, 2 & 3

    01/12/2020 - A Wolf in Penrith 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.

 Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage & into, Chapter 10: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Afternoon

    <h1>Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage and into...</h1>

    <h2>Chapter 10: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Afternoon</h2>

    Thump, thump, thump¡­ Bouncing up with every sharp movement, only to come down chest first on armored shoulder.

    I was starting to feel like a well travelled set of luggage by the time we landed in a snowy clearing among almost skeletal birch trees and golden aspens. An image sprang to mind of the glade in Autumn and how it would look like something out of that famous Robert Frost poem, the aspens and paper birches wreathed with yellow foliage, carpeting the grassy ground with a littering of yet untrod fallen leaves.

    My imaginations were rudely interrupted when a pair of large hands wrapped themselves around my waist and with a slight jerk I felt Unbowed hoist me up off of his shoulder into the air, before gently setting me down. Talk about ruining a moment...

    Snow crunched under my bare feet as I made fists with my toes, enjoying the sensation of something other than concrete for the first time in months.

    Even though I wouldn¡¯t complain given he had rescued me, being slung over someone¡¯s shoulder while they dodge attacks and make aerial maneuvers is not pleasant. Though unable to check without sacrificing my modesty, I swore I was bruised from waist to boobs from being jostled around like a sack of grain.

    You¡¯d think having been the damsel in distress, I would have received more tender treatment. So much for chivalry.

    I took the chance to once again inspect my rescuer and scowl up at him, this time in the cold light of the winter afternoon. Though now bearing wear and tear, in his black bodysuit with its silver armor plating and rich purple cape, he was every inch a hero or villain out of one of the classic comics.

    A guilty grin slipped onto my face, it seemed my spikes had given his armor some payback for my bruised front. The armor plating was scored and scratched, and where my arms had hung, it looked like his cloak had been mauled. Impressively his bodysuit had suffered only minor abrasions, as though a sheet of sandpaper had been rubbed across it, despite the fact he had my spikes from the waist down passively doing their best to shred it.

    Unbowed seemed to trace my gaze, to where I was admiring the damage I had wrought on his costume. ¡°Sorry,¡± I mumbled at his boots, feeling a tiny flash of shame.

    ¡°You may have got me worse than the heroes, but it seems to have done its job and protected me and my identity, so no harm done. Actually this brings me to what we need to do next, we can¡¯t have you walking around in those prison rags, even if you were going to hide indoors.¡±

    He gave my blue prison jumpsuit and its holes, a glance over and a look of disdain. ¡°Hold on-¡± I tried to interject, before I was again swept into his current.

    ¡°Have you perhaps ever visited a tailor? No? That settles it. I am going to take you there as soon as I make two phone calls, to organise a discreet private fitting and our transport.¡± Leaving me where I stood, mouth open in cut off protest, he pulled out a phone from behind one of his armor plates and began pacing the borders of the clearing as he made his calls in a sharp curt but polite business manner.

    Minutes later, after hanging up for the second time, he strode back over to me,¡°Try not to jump when she arrives.¡±

    ¡°When who arrives?¡± I tried to ask, but before I could get an answer the air in front of me split like a torn curtain and an eyecatching woman stepped through.

    I mean she was kinda breathtaking with her flaming red hair cut into a pixie cut, Irish upturned nose, impish smile, messy sprinkle of freckles and twinkling green eyes. She was dressed as if she was going to an underground concert with her heeled black leather boots, stressed skinny jeans, low cut band t-shirt and studded leather jacket.

    Intimidatingly beautiful. Crap, crap, crap. I was staring.

    ¡°Hey Al! I was just watching you on the news!¡± The woman greeted my rescuer with a loud Bostonian accent. Al? Is that his name? I looked up and shot him a raised eyebrow as I mouthed what she called him.

    She paused as if she had just realised I was here and gave me the once over.

    ¡°You¡¯re hot stuff today Al, the news is swarming with pics of you from that prison break, every cop and hero in the city must be looking for you. And I see you¡¯ve picked up a waif while you were there, a little young for you isn¡¯t she Al?¡± as her tone filled with mock accusation she glanced my way and winked.

    ¡°Yes Miss Gingers, it had to be done. I hope I am not too hot as I will be needing your services tonight and over the next few days. The girl I believe is called Miss Wraith, a captive I rescued and I hope to talk to.¡±

    I found myself smirking as I held back laughter at this contrast of personalities, it was like something out of a comedy sketch.

    ¡®Al¡¯ turned and nodding in my direction introduced us, ¡°Miss Wraith, this is Miss Natalie Gingers. A rifter who goes by the nom de guerre Trafficker. Like you and me, she is an Emerged. She specialises in discreetly transporting individuals and their luggage and charges a high price for it, as such she can be trusted to protect her clients confidentiality.¡±

    ¡°I told you before Al to call me Nel. You don¡¯t have to be all fancy pants around me. I trust you not to do anything foolish and drag me into trouble, so as long as you can vouch for the girl, I¡¯m happy to take you where you need. So what can I do for ya pal?¡±

    Nel seemed to enjoy teasing ¡®Al¡¯ for his formality and I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if when she said pal, had also slid over and slapped him on the back. What can I say? I liked her already.

    ¡°I can totally see why you prefer Nel, given you¡¯re a ginger called Gingers, also¡­¡± smiling cheekily, ¡°Yeah Al, what''s the plan?¡± I asked joining in on the fun.

    Behind the annoyed glare he sent me, I sensed a hidden smile. Mr prim and proper Dadneto has a sense of humor¡­ I wonder how much of this is an act and how much is him?

    ¡°Well ladies, If Nel here would be so kind as to make us a rift to Tinker¡¯s shop where I have arranged a private fitting, we can sort out your wardrobe problems. Afterwards I¡¯ll call back Miss Gingers if she has left to make us a new rift from the shop to the bunker where you¡¯ll be staying till the heat dies down, we get you back on your feet. Then you and I,¡± Unbowed glanced at me as if to say ¡®later¡¯, ¡°-will have a long talk about that prison and other matters. If there are no other questions¡­ Miss Gingers would you do the honors?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Chucking ¡®Al¡¯ a playful curtsey, Nel cut the air with a finger leaving behind a glowing line and dug her hands into it, only to rip it open with a gesture akin to drawing open a stage curtain.

    ¡°Ok Wraith, off you hop on through, it''s perfectly safe,¡± Nel cheerfully encouraged.

    Curious I tried to stare at the portal¡¯s edge, expecting a paper thin boundary where it cut through reality. My vision blacked out as if I had stared directly into the Sun, but instead of my retinas burning, the rear of my brain screamed in pain as it attempted to comprehend the twisted reality she had broken.

    ¡°Unless you decide to try and look at the backside of reality. Don¡¯t do that,¡± she teased and a pair of small hands gently gripped my head and directed my gaze to instead look through the portal.

    The pain faded as my vision returned. Before me, through the rift was a bespoke tailors shop that looked like it had been pulled right out of a fifties drama.

    ¡°Cooool,¡± I cooed as I stood almost gaping like a farmgirl on her first trip to the big city. Honestly portals were far cooler than superheroes and villains. A gloved hand on my lower back pushed me sending me stumbling through, before Unbowed calmly strolled in behind me with Nel bring up the rear.

    "Ahh the great liberator fresh from the fields of victory, maidens on either arm, graces my humble shop with muddy boots. Take them off quickly now!"

    While the others scrambled to remove their shoes, I wriggled my toes and looked at the source of the voice. There before us, spindle figure, tall, thin and lanky, that gave me the impression of a stick insect or praying mantis, wearing an immaculate tailored white suit. Until they had spoken I had thought it was a thin store mannequin or an out of place scarecrow.

    Looking at my bare feet the figure sighed and like a magician produced a long red silk handkerchief. Crossing the distance between us with one long step, grasped one of my hands and deposited the handkerchief in my hand before rolling my fingers closed around it.

    ¡°Wipe those feet dear and we can get you measured. You look a little bewildered, I figure he neglected to tell you about me? Hmm call me Tinker, Tinker Tailor.¡±

    Measured? Am I getting tailored clothes? What kind of people have I fallen in with, that would think to start with tailored clothes and not stuff of the shelf from walmart or from a charity shop? Were these people aliens or are people with money that out of touch with the rest of us?

    ¡°Ummm Tinker? Al? This is expensive right?.. Sorry, but I can¡¯t afford tailored stuff,¡± I said apprehensively, my anxiety scrunching the handkerchief further.

    Placing a hand on my shoulder, Unbowed crouched down to look me in the eyes.

    "Don''t worry sweetie, I''ll foot the bill. Tinker here will put it all on my tab and then I¡¯ll take you somewhere to stay till you''re back on your feet,¡± Al spoke almost fatherly as he smoothed away my fears. Where did the intense antihero from the breakout go?

    "I have money hidden back at my foster parents home... I can pay you back later..." I offered.

    He softly shook his head.

    "No. Don''t worry about paying me back, I can more than afford to help you out, but if you need a hand breaking in and stealing back your stuff, I am game if you are."

    A moment of silence passed before Tinker spoke up.

    ¡°Al¡¯s sentiment is good and all, but he has a tendency to not explain things properly. There is the issue of those captivating spikes, they seem unwilling to hide behind just any sort clothes. What our dear friend. Al has neglected to tell you is that I specialise in tailoring my products to individuals with interesting needs. Even if you don¡¯t want a super suit like Unbowed, I can make you a few things customised for your unique features.¡±

    ¡°How about you follow me into the back for a fitting, while we discuss your wants and needs, so I can get started,¡± they directed kindly.

    ¡°Ah sure¡­ You should have seen my cell, I had enough rags to build myself a nest from all my shredded blankets and jumpsuits. It would be nice to have some stuff that will last,¡± I voiced hopefully as I finished cleaning my feet and followed Tinker into the brightly lit, white backroom.

    If not for the experiences of the last few months of my life, this next part would of had me running for the hills. Instead I was merely skin crawlingly creeped out when Tinker removed their gloves and from their fingers came a swarm of slithering threads, that quickly engulfed me, wriggling as they measured my dimensions to the nearest half inch.

    I wasn¡¯t expecting it, but afterwards they profusely apologised for the experience. After witnessing their banter with Unbowed I¡¯d half expected them to tell me to stop being a baby. While we waited for my heart to stop thundering, Tinker sat me down and talked me through my preferences in colours, styles and fabrics for the new wardrobe.

    In the end we settled for a wardrobe of mostly blacks, greys and reds, with one set of garments that would leave most of my spikes bare or only loosely cover them. A list of garments including tank tops, skirts, hoodies and other garments that either baggy or would leave my spikes uncovered. Another set of garments were planned that would not only cover and hide my spikes, but also help hide my identity. All of them were to be made with custom fabrics that mimicked more mundane fabrics such as cottons.

    Tinker then did me an another unexpected act of kindness, while they were going to talk with Al and work on a set of outfits and bed sheets to go, they offered to let me use the store bathroom to shower and clean myself up. They hadn¡¯t said anything, but I could see what they were hinting at. I had barely washed in days, I probably stunk of stale sweat and that was ignoring the covering of concrete dust and mud splatter.

    I¡¯d come to enjoy cold showers during my time in confinement, wasn¡¯t hard when you don¡¯t feel cold, but my first warm shower in months was a thing of comfort and luxury. They even had a set of pilfered mini hotel soaps, lotions, shampoo and conditioner for me to use. I ended up using two tiny bottles of the shampoo to clean the layers of filth from my hair.

    A finished change of clothing had been slipped into the bathroom while I was showering and after I had managed to dry and wrangle my messy hair into a semblance of order, I dressed.

    ¡°Ah yes, a beautiful young lady was hiding under that filth-coated lass all along. Now you look worthy of my expertise,¡± Tinker appraised me as I emerged clean and dressed from the store bathroom. I may or may not have broken out blushing. Like Ms Clark before them, they weren¡¯t wrong, I¡¯d seen myself in the bathroom mirror. There I stood, a uniquely pretty teenage girl with entracing otherworldly features, dressed in a gothic tank top, skater skirt and black ankle boots.

    ¡°Al has what I could make in this short time for you, bagged and paid for. I¡¯ll arrange for Nel to deliver the rest later. It has been a pleasure meeting a young beauty like yourself and I won¡¯t keep you any longer, I am sure you want to see where Al has you staying and lay down after today¡¯s exhaustion,¡± Tinker said as they bowed with a flourish.

    I think I surprised the poor tailor when I lent over catching them mid bow with a kiss on their cheek.

    ¡°No Tinker, I¡¯m the one who is grateful. Not only am I free of the last ugly reminder of my imprisonment, but you have made me clothes that I not only love, but I can wear without worrying about shredding them.¡±

    Barely fifteen minutes later we¡¯d again travelled through another of Nel¡¯s rifts and I was being given a tour of what appeared to be a luxury penthouse devoid of windows.

    ¡°So what do you think of my bunker? It was originally built during the cold war to serve as a family dwelling in the event nuclear war broke out. Since then it has been renovated several times and mainly serves as a panic room,¡± Unbowed proudly explained. I no longer have any doubts, that he is some rich eccentric.

    ¡°You can stay in any of the ensuite bedrooms you will find through the doors on the right. You are also welcome to use any of the bunker¡¯s amenities and entertainment, however the blast doors will remain locked to you and I ask that you do not try to break through them. If you wish to leave the bunker, either ask myself or call Miss Gingers, she is on the speed dial and will charge my tab.¡±

    With the tour over, I quickly chose the first door on the right and scarcely had I fitted my sheets to the bed, stripped down and lay my head on my pillow, before was I asleep.

 Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage & into, Chapter 11: Homecoming

    <h2>Chapter 11: Homecoming</h2>

    If you had told me before all this started that a bed could be too soft, too comfortable, I wouldn¡¯t have believed it. Well at least not until after last night. After a couple hours of tossing and turning I¡¯d given up on sleeping and went for a walk around the bunker.

    The size and opulence of the place was unbelievable, not even taking into account the cell I¡¯d spent the last few months in, this bunker was bigger than my home back at the Andersons. Don¡¯t even get me started on all the furnishings. Hardwood floors, fancy art, marble¡­ This guy¡¯s bunker was more luxurious than most people¡¯s houses.

    Returning to my room after my second tour of the bunker just as tired as when I left, dead tired, I figured I¡¯d give the bed a try another night. For now though¡­ Ripping the new sheets and pillows off of the bed, I piled them on the room¡¯s wooden floor, before making myself a nest. It didn''t take me long to lay down and roll myself into a cocoon, even less to fall back to sleep. Just a few wiggles and I was gone.

    * * *

    We were heading out to the city, my first time out of the bunker. Time to show Robin Wraith to the world, I could feel my hand vibrating against my leg, I shoved it into my jacket pocket. It was time to face the world, now or never. Nel gestured, towards rift.

    ¡°After you Spike, we¡¯ll be right behind you!¡±

    As I stepped through the rift, I felt something impact my chest, followed by the sound of a distant bang. Why did my legs feel weak? How did I end up on the pavement? Two more bangs rang out followed by the sound of things softly thudding against the ground next to me.

    Gasping as I attempted to speak, I found myself choking. Something wet splattered across my chin as I coughed and took a shallow breath. I was sure it was still morning, why was the sun setting? It was getting dark. I felt so tired. I think I''ll just rest my eyes¡­

    ¡°You thought I¡¯d let you freaks run free?¡±

    * * *

    I woke with a start, tangled in the sheets as I thrashed around trying to free myself. Panting, my breath grew short, the fabric clinging to my face like a death veil suffocating me.

    Hurried footsteps echoed through the timber floor, the vibrations traveling through my skull as they approached. They gently grasped my shoulder, holding me still as they worked at my wrapping. Fresh air and light greeted me as the sheet was peeled back from my face.

    Panic fading, my thundering heart was beginning to slow and I began to draw less ragged breaths. I finally registered the hand gently stroking my hair. A concern filled face, peered down at me.

    A defined chin I had only seen beneath a helm, leading into a handsome face. In their corners, crow¡¯s feet framed bright blue eyes. A head of well groomed dark hair, cut in a corporate professional style was peppered with the beginnings of grey hairs. The face could almost have belonged to someone younger, but the traces of old stress told me he had to be around his forties.

    ¡°Al?¡± It couldn¡¯t be¡­

    ¡°It''s alright, you¡¯re safe now. You were having a nightmare, I could hear you from the hallway, you seemed to be in quite some distress. It wasn¡¯t real, Miss Robin,¡± replied the calming voice of Unbowed. I could hear the worry that laced the calm he projected as he attempted to comfort me. He was actually worried about me?

    ¡°Just a dream¡­ I¡¯ll be fine. Thank you. Just let me shower and I¡¯ll be out. Can we talk then?..¡± My voice trembled as I spoke and his blue eyes flared with concern. Did I really sound like that? Scared and helpless? Had I turned into just some damsel who needs to be rescued?

    ¡°I leave you there then. I trust you, you can handle yourself. We will talk when you are ready,¡± he said, picking up a paper wrapped box tied with a resplendent purple ribbon from beside him, before passing it over.

    ¡°Tinker finished a few more outfits and had Miss Gingers bring them round this morning. He seems to be pulling out all the stops, to finish this order for you as soon as he can.¡±

    I watched as Al got up from where he had been kneeling next to me and left, closing the door behind him. Now alone, I untied the ribbon before stashing it alongside Ms Clark¡¯s hairbrush with my meagre possessions. I had to be thankful for the prison jumpsuit¡¯s deep pockets or I might have lost it when I escaped.

    Sorting through the garments I received last night and this morning I picked out an outfit for today. If I was going to break into my old home at the Anderson¡¯s I was going to need to hide my more unique features to blend in. After laying out a bra and underwear on the stripped bed, I picked out another tank top as well as baggy hoodie and loose jeans for later.

    The shower was better than at Tinker¡¯s and that was saying a lot. Tinker¡¯s was the first warm shower after months of cold showers, but in the bunker? The shower in my room ensuite was some expensive glorious bullshit. You could set the water temperature for the hot tap to the degree before stepping inside and the showerhead after only a moment of fiddling had the perfect pressure.

    I probably stayed in there longer than I should have, sitting on the shower floor under the jets for ten minutes at the end probably wasn''t necessary, even if it was enjoyable. When I finally stepped out of the shower, the heat and water pressure had massaged out more tension than I even realised I had.

    By the time I had finally dressed and joined ¡®Al¡¯ at the dining table, I probably owed him an apology for keeping him waiting, but if he was as rich as all the signs were pointing to, making him wait would probably do him some good.

    Breakfast was interesting¡­ I hadn¡¯t seen anyone else in the bunker, but somehow he was getting gourmet meals down here, not that I was complaining. I could get used to these sorts of luxuries. The table conversation was less than desirable as ¡°Al¡¯ asked me a series of questions about my experiences in the prison.

    I would have preferred to not to dig up those memories and at several points I found myself choking up as I tried to answer. I might not have made it through the questions, but ¡®Al¡¯ seemed to know when to back off and when to comfort.

    At one point, I swear he was barely holding himself back from leaning across and pulling me into a hug. Breakfast finished with ¡®Al¡¯ again laying down the ground rules, before discussing my plans for the day.

    I know you are wondering why I am going along with all these rules and letting myself be locked down in a bunker after breaking out of prison? Well I¡¯d say I was used to it after living in orphanages, the foster system and the Anderson¡¯s, but it is more than that. I can¡¯t help but think ¡®Al¡¯, Nel and Tinker actually care about me.

    I don''t have a lot of experience with people actually caring about me, Ms Clark was the first and maybe since they all have powers they might last? Is it safe to hope yet?

    ¡®Al¡¯ seems great, for a villain. I can¡¯t help but admire his conviction for the cause of Emerged equality and underneath that he is stuffy upper crust dork, but in the rough twenty four hours I¡¯ve known him I keep wondering if he is what having a real dad would be like and if he has kids of his own.

    I probably shouldn¡¯t have pried since he rescued me and I am in his debt for sheltering me, but he remained silent when I asked if he had kids. Maybe there was sadness in his eyes, maybe it was my imagination.

    Also I shouldn¡¯t forget I can actually leave here, a rift is just a phone call away. Well until I need somewhere to sleep or eat¡­ Then there is the fact I¡¯ve seen Unbowed¡¯s face, I hope this isn¡¯t one of those ¡®you know too much, the only way I can let you leave is kill you¡¯ situations¡­The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    We didn¡¯t really mess around after breakfast, Unbowed wanted me to see a doctor before I went anywhere. Saying something about a full health checkup and recording any evidence of abuse and neglect from my time in prison as soon as possible.

    See a doctor? He has to be joking We¡¯re both fugitives from the law, so we can¡¯t expect to just walk into a hospital or doctor¡¯s practise and I don¡¯t see him bringing a doctor here through any other method than kidnapping.

    Ok, so I guess you could call me surprised when I was told to head to my room, while he greeted the Doctor. Apparently between Nel¡¯s portals and someone called Lachlan, he hadn¡¯t had much trouble arranging a doctor¡¯s visit. Lesson one I guess, never doubt the power of money and contacts.

    By the time Unbowed and the doctor strode into the room, I was anxiously sitting on the bed kicking my legs.

    By the time she left, I had a two swollen arms and a swollen ass from vaccinations I missed growing up and I was missing what felt like a third of my blood for tests. That and I had recieved several diagnosis.

    At 5¡¯8¡± and just under 94 pounds I was underweight and suffering from malnutrition, plus lack of sunlight. The worst was the gynecological examination and it was pretty uncomfortable when she asked if I had experienced my period since the changes. I hadn¡¯t, but apparently it wasn¡¯t surprising given my low weight and the physical and mental stress I had experienced since the Emergeance.

    That and she thought I should be seeing a shrink. I¡¯m not sure I like her bedside manner¡­

    * * *

    Even though I had turned down Unbowed¡¯s offer of help in retrieving my belongings from the Anderson¡¯s place, he phoned Nel with one of the Bunker¡¯s phones and arranged for her to rift me close to home and to bring me back when I was done.

    I was glad to see Nel when she arrived, she has a fun personality and that¡¯s not even mentioning the fact she was a red hot ginger.

    After a brief bit of banter between the two, we were about ready to go and Nel had torn open a rift for us. I can¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t anxious after last night¡¯s nightmare, but thankfully ¡®Al¡¯ interrupted me before I had a chance to ruminate. Laying a fatherly hand on my shoulder, he pressed into my hand a cheapo off the shelf cellphone.

    ¡°Nel and I¡¯s numbers are programmed into this burner, if you get into trouble, run, hide and call us. We will help you out of it. Also be back before dark, don¡¯t think I won¡¯t ground you if you miss dinner young miss,¡± he fussed over me like a kid heading out for their first day at school.

    ¡°Yes Dad¡­¡± I sarcastically droned, as I waved and followed Nel through the rift. I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t happy about the parental care he was showing, I wish even just one person had cared about me like this when I was growing up. I¡¯m almost eighteen and this is a first for me.

    It took me a couple seconds to find my bearings after we stepped through and work out where we were. At one end of the room desks and chairs were piled up against a wall, while at the other a chalkboard hung onto the wall by a single screw, almost touching the floor where it had slipped down at one end.

    We were in a classroom in the derelict G?rwood community college. It had closed down almost a decade ago after state funds were cut, the site was now a haven for vandals, squatters and drug dealers. Last time I was here was a night back in middle school on a dare. Nel knew her stuff, it was probably the best place to avoid notice when rifting, if anyone did see us they were unlikely to be the sort of people that would call the cops or tell anyone.

    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t run into any troubles while getting your stuff. Call me when you want a lift back and I¡¯ll meet you here. He seems to care about you Robin, don¡¯t let him down. Good luck,¡± and just like that Nel stepped back through the rift, letting it snap shut behind her.

    My old home was only a seven minute walk from the community college and being back walking these streets was, for lack of better words, weird.

    I had been planning to come back and retrieve my stuff as soon as possible after I had been kicked out, maybe return to live there for a few more months until I moved out if my foster parents had cooled down. But after the Emergence? I had lost sight of my old goals, the time I spent in that hole felt like a lifetime ago. Honestly I thought I¡¯d never see this place again.

    When I finally reached the Anderson¡¯s two story white board house with bomb shelter in the backyard I didn¡¯t stop. Instead I casually did a lap of the block, scoping out their place and the neighbours. Last thing I wanted was to get shot by a nosy neighbour, who¡¯d spotted me climbing in a window.

    That said, the whole thing ended up being pretty anticlimactic, being mid morning the neighbourhood was fairly deserted, the Anderson¡¯s car wasn¡¯t in the driveway and no one was home.

    Grabbing the spare key under the pot plant at the back door, I just waltzed in. I climbed the stairs to my old room, then pried loose the floorboard where I hide everything and then I piled into my old school bag. Everything I hid from my foster parents. My nest egg from my part time jobs, my mobile and my laptop. Also a few treasured keepsakes like my battered teddy bear, a skirt I had hidden and a strange coin or medallion bearing an anchor on it I had been found with.

    I didn¡¯t hang around, I had little sentimentality for this place. It was just another prison by another name. I hurried back to the community college.

    Oh I almost forgot to mention¡­ Do you ever sometimes look up and the sky and wonder, what the fuck is that!? Well I just did. You know when you can sometimes faintly see the moon in the afternoon sky? There was a second fucking moon! A small moon superimposed over the old one.

    When did Earth become Tatooine? Before any nerds jump out of thin air like ninjas to correct me on it being two suns, I know! I am being melodramatic.

    * * *

    Well I did make it back in time for dinner, so I wasn¡¯t grounded.

    Back at the bunker, I¡¯d rebuilt my nest on the bed and curled up with my laptop after charging it. Now before you ask, the wifi channel was [Not_A_Supervillain_Lair] and the password was Unbroken2019. I¡¯m being serious! I swear he was almost smirking, when he handed me the card he had printed the details on. Of course Unbowed was the type of person to print the wifi details on a fucking business card. Also the bunker seemed to be blocking outside signals, as it was the only wifi channel my laptop or phone could detect and I was getting zero bars down here.

    Picking out my Cement Butterflies playlist to listen to as I browsed, I cranked up the laptops tinny volume. A part of me just wanted to aimlessly browse and catch up on everything I had missed, which was a lot.

    It was like the universe had undergone a chain of uncontrolled reactions leading into full blown nuclear meltdown, only to suddenly stop and slowly start finding a new state of equilibrium. The night all this had started, I had been removed from the picture and placed into isolation with barely any word of the outside world. Now I¡¯m out and the world I thought I knew was gone. Or was it just worse?

    I could learn all about what I¡¯d missed later, Kelly was relying on me to find her.

    The first name I googled was ¡®Ms Clark OMR¡¯. The top result was a recent news article about her tragic death after a mugging that went wrong. My cheeks grew damp as I read the witness accounts of the event, followed by the statements by the EMTs and an emotional obituary that listed her lifetime achievements, helping the marginalized and fighting injustice.

    Closing the tabs, I buried my tear streaked face in my sheets until my grief filled shudders ceased.

    A Cement butterflies song later, I felt up to resuming my research. Next up was Kelly Newhall. I trusted her but it didn¡¯t hurt to double check and see if I could find anything new. Not that I was very successful, all I found were a few social media accounts I was locked out of by privacy settings and another news article. The article was fairly brief and rather than laying the blame on Bastion, it laid suspicions on an Emerged called Kalia. Bingo! The fox girl exists!

    Kelly¡¯s death wasn¡¯t the only case of hero malpractice I found, in the related articles was one about a newbie hero Flashpoint, who had mistaken an innocent catgirl for a villain and paralyzed her from the waist down by throwing her off a building. From the looks of things he got off easy, seems his parents were linked to the company paying for her medical costs and after pleading guilty his lawyers arranged for a settlement to be paid towards her.

    On Kalia I found next to nothing, so I ended up searching foxgirl and penrith. I was floored by what I found! My search was filled with news articles about the exploits of a foxy thief named Vulptrix, gossip about her relationship with a well known superheroine, fan art (some lewd) of the pair and an amusing clip on youtube of an interview with the heroine Nightbinder.

    Hero and Villain fandoms¡­ That was sorta new, well the old comic and movie ones had fanbases but these were real life supers being treated like celebrities.

    What was interesting to note was this Vulptrix not only looked like how Kelly had described Kalia but she also had illusionary powers. Wow, what was this pain stabbing through my skull? I quickly shelved that thought and closed the browser.

    Softly singing along to my music, I began to get ready for bed. At one point I thought I heard the wooden floor creak as someone moved outside my room, but when I looked no one was there.

    Yawning I returned to the bed and curled up in my nest. Time to give the bed another try.

 Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage & into, Chapter 12: Songbird

    <h2>Chapter 12: Songbird</h2>

    If you¡¯d thought the poor traumatised girl who¡¯d been recently broken out of prison, would be allowed to sleep in a little¡­ You¡¯d have thought wrong.

    ¡°Rise and shine, Miss Wraith!¡± Unbowed called out with unnerving morning energy as he entered the room and flipped on the lights.

    Grumbling expletives into my pillow, I pulled the sheets up over my head and defensively curled into a ball.

    ¡°Sorry for this Robin, but I need you up and getting ready in thirty minutes. I¡¯ll have breakfast ready when you do. Dress for movement not concealment,¡± he instructed, before ripping away my protective sheet cocoon, leaving me exposed to the lights and cool air and leaving.

    ¡°Neuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh,¡± I cried out, ¡°waaaaaah noooooooo!¡±

    Now I know why they call him a villain, that filthy terrorist woke me up and stole my warm sheets. Can no one stop him? Alas woe is me, cast adrift in the cruel seas of the awake.

    Ok, got my melodramatic fix for today. Time to shower.

    Just short of an hour later I walked into the dining room, dressed in boots, a black skater skirt and yet another black tank top. For someone who claims not to be a goth, I sure wear a lot of black. Not that I had much of a choice, red was the only bright colour I had available in the mostly monochrome clothes Tinker had tailored for me.

    Most of that hour had been in the shower. I had taken my sweet time letting the spray of hot pressurised water wake me up, it was almost as good as a large mug of black coffee.

    Unbowed greeted me with a stern look and crossed arms, then glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner.

    ¡°I said thirty minutes Miss Wraith, not an hour. Actions have consequences, because you were late, breakfast is cold. Punctuality is about respect, when you are late you show disrespect for those around you and I am not referring to myself. I am referring to those who cooked your meal. Real respect is not how you treat those more powerful than you, but how you treat those with no power over you.¡±

    No, I wasn¡¯t going to feel shame over this. Nope. My guts clenched as if they had been grabbed. Damn him. Damn my conscience.

    ¡®Al¡¯ sighed, ¡°I¡¯m not angry with you Robin, just disappointed. You have the potential for so much more. It may be hard, but you need to overcome those solitary instincts you¡¯ve developed and learn to recognise those around you and trust them.¡±

    ¡°Fuck off. That¡¯s easy for you to say. Judging by this place you were born with a gilded spoon in your mouth, not everyone has experience growing up with servants,¡± I angrily retorted.

    ¡°Did your parents never teach you manners?¡± an exasperated Unbowed replied.

    He did not just say that¡­ Fixing him a rage filled glare, I stomped right up into his personal space and tried to match his towering height with menace.

    ¡°No they didn¡¯t and you should know that! I¡¯m exhausted enough from the nightmares, I don¡¯t need your self righteous parenting¡± I yelled, my voice ringing out in the underground space.

    Hurt flashed across his face before it was quickly replaced by a mask of guilt.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I forgot you are not Li-. No¡­ I am sorry, I was letting something unrelated affect how I treated you. I hope everything else I have done, has shown that I am not just using you. That I want to help you have all the opportunities that your upbringing never allowed you to have.¡±

    I took a deep breath to calm myself and stepped back. He had done so much for me in so little time and I didn¡¯t want it to end like this.

    I didn¡¯t get far. Matching my step backwards he advanced and looping his arms around my back and shoulders, he pulled me into his chest. One awkward moment later, a not entirely confident looking ¡®Al¡¯ stepped back. Wait¡­ Was that a hug?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry as well. Let¡¯s put this behind us and start again. Just please recognise how foreign this is for me and how far I am out of my depths,¡± I almost pleaded and gave my best attempt at an adorable ¡®please pity me¡¯ look. Yes! I was rewarded when he looked away and coughed as if clearing his throat.

    ¡°...I¡¯ll try to be more patient with you. Give me a few minutes to reheat the food, so we can eat and head off,¡± he offered in an attempt to move the discussion on. He walked over to adjoining kitchen and pressed several buttons on the microwave, starting it.

    Head off where? He talks in riddles, leaving out the main point.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing it again¡­¡± I grumbled.

    ¡®Al¡¯ looked back with a mystified expression on his face, ¡°Doing what?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re hopeless¡­ Speaking without telling me anything. Head off where? You haven¡¯t said why you woke me up so early,¡± I said, suppressing an annoyed sigh.

    ¡°Ah, I didn''t say?¡± For a moment ¡®Al¡¯ looked confused, probably trying to recall what he had actually told me.

    ¡°Right¡­ Training. Miss Wraith, I was planning on taking you somewhere where you can train. While I know that you have some use of your gifts from the breakout. I need to know you can not only look after yourself but not cause unnecessary harm and destruction. You need to learn how to use and control your powers. You need to learn your strengths, weaknesses and limitations.¡±

    ¡°Right, training¡­ Explains the dress instructions. I guess it is necessary,¡± I replied trying to keep the enthusiasm from flooding my voice. I knew I needed to experiment and train with my powers, since my first foray into exploring them the morning before my rescue. Not to mention I can¡¯t deny that making that hero, who I now know is called Bastion, go flying into the ground has really made me excited to learn more.

    Moments later the microwave beeped. Breakfast first, then training!

    * * *

    Breakfast and one Nel rift later, we were inside an almost empty warehouse on the outskirts of Penrith. Moments after our arrival, the warehouse¡¯s corrugated sheet metal walls and roof began to shiver raining down dust, as a freight train thundered past on the tracks outside.

    I wish Nel was sticking around, she¡¯s fun and I am sure her cheeky banter would have made time fly. Ok not entirely honest, I kinda wanted her around so I wouldn¡¯t be alone with ¡®Al¡¯ after this morning and unfortunately Nel had left for her side gig after wishing me good luck.

    After almost eighteen years of guardians who couldn''t give a shit about me unless I was sick or dead, this whole overbearing dad act and his awkward attempts at affection were throwing me off balance. I had no idea how to even react. It was like I had lived in a parched desert my whole live and now there was fresh water to drink and I was drowning in it.

    I guess for now I could try to keep treading water and see if I learn to swim. Sink or swim, I guess and if I succeed¡­ Ok I''ll work out what to do then, later. Time to train.

    When it came to training my abilities, I was spoiled for choice in targets. While mostly empty, there were all sorts of construction materials laying about discarded. I could see tattered bags of cement that had set after getting wet, old wooden crates with Spencer Shippings stenciled on the side, bundles of rusted steel rebar, rotten train sleepers and a stack of lengths of jointed tracks.

    I could see some fun ways to make use of these.

    Making use of my figurative parental figure, I had ¡®Al¡¯ assist me in stacking the solidified bags of cement into multiple mounds. Off to the side, we laid the sections of track and bundles of rebar across the discarded crates.

    With our training gym set up and Unbowed now resting against the wall panting, I got to work testing and refining my abilities. Targeting the cement mounds, I slowly walked backwards firing from further and further away as I worked on my accuracy. Aside from a few misses that took chucks out of the concrete or punch holes through the wall behind my targets, I felt I had aim down pat up to just over two hundred feet.

    As a side effect I worked out how many I could shoot off. At twenty three I felt drained and it took another four blasts before I collapsed. Not quite the same as the guns my foster parents made me learn how to use in accuracy, but they more than made up for it in power. My blasts had reduced the lumps of set cement to a fine rubble.

    A short break, lunch and thirty minutes of 120 volt mains power later, I was feeling refreshed, re-energized and ready to continue. If I ever cleared my name, I could probably make a career starring in tv ads alongside the energiser bunny.

    Next up was testing my sword. Summoning it up, I tested it on a single bar of steel and slowly worked up from there aiming towards the sections of rail track.

    I quickly found to my disappointment that while it was sharper than any sword should be and could cut and hack through an impressive amount of metal, it wasn¡¯t a lightsaber. I had to reabsorb it when I got the blade got stuck halfway into a section of rail.

    I did have some theories on how to make it sharper, but I was satisfied leaving that for another day.

    I¡¯d had my eyes on summoning armor but at this stage I still couldn''t make it work, perhaps I needed to study actual armor first for a clearer mental image. What I did manage was a jagged roughly triangular shield. I guess that could be useful, even if I have no idea how to test its protection.

    Last thing I wanted to test was turning into shadows. Back in the prison I had only managed to shift an arm at a time, but this time I wanted to do more.

    Another half hour passed as I trained this ability and my progress was limited. I¡¯d manage one full arm to the shoulder, another arm up to the elbow and one of my legs. The rest of me was as normal and fleshy as ever with no signs of turning into smokey black shadows.

    While partially transformed I tested my ability to pass through objects. Shadowy limbs could pass through the bundle of rebar and section of steel track, but not though the warehouses sheet metal walls where there were no existing holes.

    I had no solid answers why but Unbowed had a few suggestions on how it might work. He hypothesised that my transformed limbs behaved like smoke passing around objects, or perhaps that they can travel where light can and are blocked by anything that blocks light.

    Seeing me pause as I ran out of training ideas, Unbowed asked me to sit so he could give me what he called the most important lesson. Shrugging, I pulled up a crate and gave him my attention. I really hope this isn''t going to be sleep inducing.

    Straightening up as if he was about to give a boardroom presentation, he began, ¡°Now this lesson will carry you in life, as I have in mine. Whether you become a clerk, a doctor, a lawyer, an actor or even if you decide to reside in the realm of superpowered villains and heroes, this lesson can guide you.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Attitude and actions. Attitude is how you present yourself to others. Your posture, how you speak, the strength of your beliefs, how you handle obstacles and conflict and how you treat others. Some of this is theatrics. With the right attitude you can avoid needless confrontation, make friends and win allies,¡± he passionately intoned.

    ¡°Just as important as attitude is your actions. Your attitude means nothing long term if your actions do not back it up. Your actions create your reputation, your legacy. If you treat others fairly, act with justice and forgiveness and help those who need it, people will ultimately see this.¡±

    He paused as if to see if I was following his arguments and then gestured at himself.

    ¡°I present myself to the world as firm, fair, but kind. I stand firm in my belief in true justice and equality, even if others portray me as a villain. You will need to decide how you want to show yourself to the world, how you want to act, what you stand for and just as importantly, what you stand against,¡± he spoke, his voice firm, but gentle at the end.

    ¡°I- I don¡¯t know what I want for myself¡­ But¡­ But I do know I want to find my friend Kelly and save her! I can¡¯t let her continue to be harmed. I need to find a foxgirl called Kalia! She will also want to rescue Kell and can help. Will you help me find her?¡± my voice had wavered at the start, but I filled it with my conviction and hoped it would reach Unbowed.

    ¡°Of course, Miss Wraith. We can even start tonight, Al said with a kind smile.

    ¡°If anyone can help you it is my friend Barb, she runs a speakeasy bar for Emerged. When you meet her, don¡¯t let her gruff exterior scare you. She has a knack for solving problems and soft spot for people in need. Not much slips past my friend and if someone knows where this Kalia is or can find her, Barb will know. I¡¯ll call Miss Gingers for a rift back to the bunker so we can freshen up, before we head out.¡±

    * * *

    Nel was excited at the prospect of stopping for drinks at ¡®Limbo¡¯ and wanted to head off as soon as possible. I guessed that was the bar¡¯s name, but Unbowed corrected me with a grimace, the full name was 2 Limbo 2 Furious. Apparently the first Limbo had been shut down by the police and she had decided to bring it back with a vengeance.

    As soon as I had showered the sweat away and dressed in a fresh black skater dress, Nel all but dragged ¡®Al¡¯ and I through a rift.

    We stepped out into a dimly lit red brick room. Below our feet was creaky wooden floor and above us cobwebbed rafters. Surrounding us were winter coats hanging from clothes that appeared to have been liberated from walmart. A coat room?

    Beyond the rooms only door I could hear the low rumble of chatter, but before I could open it, Unbowed stopped me.

    ¡°We might be entering a bar, but let me make this clear. You¡¯re underage and won¡¯t be drinking, its non negotiable. I¡¯m trusting you here, are we clear?¡± ¡®Al¡¯ instructed. His tone, while gentle, made it abundantly clear that he was laying down the law.

    ¡°Yes Daaad¡­¡± I sarcastically sung out. If you can¡¯t beat them, sass them. Possibly not the smartest move, since my smart mouth started this whole mess, all the back on the afternoon of the first Emergence. At least some things never change.

    ¡°If you two don¡¯t mind, I¡¯m going to leave you to your family moment and grab myself a drink,¡± Nel teased, brushing past us and opening the door, letting the noise of the bar washed over us. Following her in, I looked around taking in the sights and sounds of the speakeasy.

    A large attic made up the speakeasy, rough pillars of load bearing brick were all that remained of walls that had been knocked down to enlarge the space. Lightbulbs hung from the rafters bathing the room in yellow light. An almost chaotic mix of graffiti, poster and artwork covered the red brick walls, almost hiding them.

    Across the room from us was an empty stage built from plywood covered pallets and a mic set in a stand held together with duct tape. A yard sales worth of preloved furniture was scattered across the room, making up the seating. Threadbare couches and armchairs sat amongst a hodgepodge of different styles of chairs, coffee tables and crates.

    To our left was a staircase leading down with one of those emergency exit signs above it. To our right was a stolen park bench that was doing time as the bar and standing behind it, was a steely grey haired woman with so many tattoos, blank skin must have been priceless real estate. She had that same intimidating aura my elementary teacher Mrs Rushcutter had.

    Definitely not someone I wanted to mess with or spill juice on. Long story short, she didn¡¯t appreciate my eight year old self crashing into her and spilling my blackberry popper all over her white blouse, while I had been running in the hallways. What was worse was that on top of the chewing out and detention I got, the Andersons welted my backside for causing trouble.

    Returning to the present, I became aware of the sensation of Unbowed¡¯s hand on my shoulder, as he stood behind me and glared at the bar¡¯s patrons as if daring them to mess with his charge. I¡¯m not sure if this counts as protective or possessive¡­

    Exerting gentle pressure on my shoulder, ¡®Al¡¯ steered me towards the bar and the seasoned woman behind. I braced myself for whatever he was planning.

    ¡°Busy night¡­ Looks like you¡¯re making good on my investment, Barb,¡± Unbowed greeted her, raising a fist in salute.

    ¡°I¡¯m doing well enough for myself, Al. Though if tonight¡¯s entertainment is any later than it already is, I am going to have a hard time keeping the patrons from getting too rowdy. So who¡¯s the lass?¡± she replied with the rough breathy voice of a long time smoker.

    ¡°You can call her Wraith, her choice if she decides to share her first name. I¡¯ve recently taken her in as my ward. That said she is underage, so she won¡¯t be partaking in any alcohol,¡± he said, introducing me.

    ¡°Fair¡¯s fair. Great to see that you¡¯ve finally moved on Al, you¡¯ve spent long enough moping around about her. So... If this Wraith isn¡¯t here to drink, did you bring her around to meet and greet or what?¡± Barb warmly inquired.

    I¡¯m starting to get the feeling these two go way back, definitely before the Emergence. Did she know who he was under the mask and cape?

    ¡°Well I did desire to introduce her to you and your esteemed establishment, but she has business of her own. She is seeking an Emerged called Kalia with fox traits, on a private matter involving a mutual friend of theirs,¡± he replied, his tone transitioning from subtle humor to serious gravitas.

    ¡°Kalia¡­ Kalia¡­ Ah right! Lucky enough for you, she just so happened to be in here just under three weeks ago, looking to talk to Redd over there in the corner. The wolf lady drinking that bottle of Bacardi with an umbrella in it. If she doesn¡¯t know where Kalia is, she can more than easily track her down. Al might have to pay her fees if it comes to that though,¡± she replied after racking her brain, then nodding in Redd¡¯s direction.

    True enough, there in the corner was a wolf lady drinking Bacardi straight from the bottle, as she now spun the decorative umbrella between her fingers.

    Though hunched over her drink and dressed in clothes that looked like they had never seen the hot side of an iron before, she lived up to her name. Even seated and bent over her drink, I could see she was a tall almost bombshell of a woman, with long tangled red curls and a brushy red wolf¡¯s tail and matching ears.

    Well I guess she¡¯s who I need to speak to, she probably won¡¯t eat me¡­ Right?

    Leaving Unbowed to talk with Barb I approached her, only to find her gaze already locked onto me. ¡°You look a little young to be with an old fart like that villain. What is he, twice your age? Did he snatch you out of a cradle somewhere or maybe¡­¡± Redd¡¯s drunken needling trailed off as recognition flared in her eyes.

    ¡°The prison¡­ I know you! From the footage of the break out! You¡¯re that girl who floored Captain Ass-shield. You look nothing like your distant out of focus tv appearance. Let me just say I¡¯m a big fan, I¡¯ve like watched that clip over ten times for a laugh. The look on his face right before he faceplants!¡± she loudly exclaimed drawing half the eyes in the bar, before bursting into laughter. Shit!

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± she asked far more quietly, intent on my answer. All traces of her intoxication seemingly vanished.

    ¡°Robin Wraith, I am looking for someone called Kalia. Barb¡¯s says she has had business with you,¡± as I said my name, I saw her eyes again flash.

    ¡°Wait one¡­ Oi! Nightbinder!¡± she called across the bar, before waving over the second angel I would meet.

    The black clad angel withdrew her dark purple wings, that she had been hiding behind and looked up from her drink. Seeing Redd, she rolled her ebon and violet eyes, sighing, as she got up from her chair and sauntered over.

    Fuck, I hope she is not like that sanctimonious bitch from the breakout.

    ¡°Alright, what is it Redd? If this is about more drinkin¡¯ games I¡¯m turning right back around,¡± she said with a sigh, almost, but not quite hiding a smile. Redd grinned wolfishly as she contemplated the possibility.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already started so you¡¯d have a chance this time, but no. I would like to introduce you to Robin, says she is a friend of the fox,¡± she countered, emphasizing my name as if to pass on an unspoken message.

    Uh oh. What do they know about me?

    ¡°Redd, last time we played Across the Bridge you ended up making out with a chair. That doesn¡¯t count as winning!¡± Nightbinder grumbled, then turned to me with a welcoming smile.

    ¡°You the uh, jailbird Robin? From that shithole prison?¡±

    Ok, I wasn¡¯t expecting this. These two seemed to already know who I was and about what had gone on inside the prison if I was reading the atmosphere correctly.

    ¡°Yeah. He broke me out,¡± I quietly offered as I nodded over my shoulder at Unbowed over at the bar. ¡°You¡¯ve heard of me?¡±

    Nightbinder lowered her voice to a hush and leaned in towards Redd and I.

    ¡°Yeah, short answer is that I¡¯ve heard of you. Robin Wraith, 17 years old, foster parents, if you can call them that, are the Andersons. The wolf here gave the fox a bunch of case files.¡±

    ¡°Case files? Whose casefiles? Police? Prison? Foster system? Some hero wanted list?¡± I anxiously whispered.

    ¡°Well, where¡¯d you dig them up?¡± Nightbinder asked, raising an eyebrow at Redd.

    ¡°The home office of some OMR caseworker, Ms Clark I think? Can¡¯t see her death as anything but suspicious after reading those,¡± murmured Red as she scratched her head with a clawed finger.

    I remembered our final meeting and her promise. She never came back.

    ¡°¡°Bad things happen when little monsters run their mouths and tell lies¡­ She won¡¯t be coming back, or talking to anyone¡­¡± I heard the interrogator¡¯s envenomed words as clearly as when he had first said them.

    ¡°Ms Clark¡­¡± I muttered, eyes watering.

    I¡¯d killed her¡­

    ¡°So you know about Kelly?¡± I ventured, battling between hope and comforting apathy.

    ¡°Yeah we¡¯ve heard of her. I think this is a conversation you need to have with my fox directly though,¡± Nightbinder said with a small lopsided smile, rubbing a finger over a scratch on her hand.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come back again tomorrow night, can you ask her to come?¡± I asked trying to keep the pleading out of my voice.

    ¡°Definitely, she¡¯ll be more than happy to come see you. Just make sure she¡¯s got her claws sheathed. Made that mistake last night. Never again,¡± she grinned.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I stammered out.

    ¡°Well, catch ya ¡®round then,¡± she smiled, giving a mock salute and wandering back to her table.

    ¡°Thanks Redd. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯ll be heading back over to Dadneto,¡± I excused myself, flashing her a weak smile.

    ¡°Dadneto? Oh I am going to keep that one! You¡¯re fine Robin, I¡¯ve got all the company I need right here,¡± she gestured towards her bottle of rum.

    Wandering back over to the bar I could hear, Barb swearing and complaining about the entertainment for tonight being a no show and how she was going to blacklist him after tearing out his spleen with her bare hands.

    Noticing me return, ¡®Al¡¯ offered her a solution.

    ¡°If she is willing, Miss Wraith here could fill in for tonight. She¡¯s quite the singer, I heard her last night. Like a songbird it was. You should put her on, I want to hear what she can really do!¡± he advocated.

    So I did hear someone outside my room last night. Barb gave Unbowed a hard look before turning her attention onto me.

    Feeling myself wilt under the intensity of Barb¡¯s appraising eyes, I reluctantly nodded.

    ¡°What the hell, let¡¯s do it. Since you haven¡¯t auditioned, I don¡¯t know if I am putting my ass on the line, putting you on that stage. So I can¡¯t pay you. I¡¯ll let you keep any tips you get however and I¡¯ll even throw in a few free soda. If you prove you can handle yourself and the crowd likes you, I¡¯ll pay next time,¡± Barb negotiated, leaving me off balance and just nodding along to her terms.

    Giving me an encouraging smile, Unbowed pushed me off towards the stage, sending me stumbling across the room.

    Catching my balance I nervously approached the stage like I was walking to the gallows and stepped up behind the mic stand.

    Every eye in the bar turned my way as I tapped the mic testing that it was on. I could make out the faces of ¡®Al¡¯, Barb, Redd and Nightbinder intently staring up at me.

    A mic and no music to accompany me¡­ Talk about high stakes. I needed a song with vocals that could stand on their own.

    Picking the first song that leapt to mind and fitted, I began slowly singing the intro to Cement Butterflies¡¯ rage filled lament ¡®Sewers above us¡¯, as the room fell silent.

 Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage & into, Chapter 13: Hugs

    <h2>Chapter 13: Hugs</h2>

    Avoiding a repeat of yesterday¡¯s conflict, Unbowed let sleeping birds lay and I was left undisturbed until late morning. After yesterday''s early start, my work out training and our late night at Limbo, I was thankful for the sleep in. I bet ¡®Al¡¯ was thankful not to have to deal with grumpy early morning me.

    Rolling over to check the bedside table¡¯s digital clock, I grumbled as it flashed 10:26am. Too early! Pulling the comforter over my head, I tried to return to the gentle embrace of Princess Sleep. Nope not working.

    Memories of last night returned to me, allowing me to relive my night in the spotlight once more. I was so anxious getting up on that makeshift stage, but once I started singing my surrounds melted away and I just existed in the moment. I¡¯ve always enjoyed singing, even when I hated my own voice and of all the changes I got out of the Emergence I think I love my voice the most.

    Just speaking, it was a soft mezzo with a singsong cadence, but I had a pitch perfect singing range that reached up to a high soprano, down to low contralto and comfortably transitioning to every pitch between.

    It had been my voice that allowed me to comfort Kelly and draw out and heal her shattered psyche with soft lullabies, each time after they torn her apart.

    That said I had spent two hours including breaks performing at Limbo, stopping regularly to drink water or milk to reserve my voice. The greatest challenge had been at the start recalling songs I knew the lyrics for and that didn¡¯t require any musical accompaniment.

    After about thirty minutes singing on my own, I was approached during my break by a man wearing a domino mask and a leather coat that reached down to just past the pockets of his jeans. He had been a bit on the thin side for a guy who looked to be six foot, but he walked with a self assured air.

    ¡°Hey there kid, you want a little piano accompaniment to that beautiful voice you¡¯re rockin¡¯ there?¡± he¡¯d asked, flashing an easy smile, ¡°Aw shit, where¡¯s my manners. The names Piercer, pleased to meet you.¡±

    His voice¡¯s disarming southern twang had me agreeing before I had even processed what he had said. For the rest of the night he accompanied me on the piano, increasing the repertoire of songs I was able to sing. When the last song ended I¡¯d tried to offer him a share of the tips thrown at our feet, but he only shook his head with a sly smile, flipped his wide brimmed hat up onto his head and wandered out.

    The tips had ended up with my little nest egg of earning when I got back, right before I stumbled off to bed.

    My stomach growled as it finally woke up and sent hunger pangs my way. No stomach, please don¡¯t growl. I wanna stay in bed where it is warm.

    GROWL.

    Fine¡­ Emerging from the comforter, I dived into the ensuite and blasted myself with hot water as I showered. When I finally left the steamy bathroom, I was lobster red, overheating and ready to face the cold room while I dressed.

    ¡®Al¡¯ must have known when I hopped into the shower, because my breakfast was waiting when I reached the dining area.

    I left my plate in the sink when I was finished and set out to explore the bunker.

    I¡¯d described this place before as a windowless luxury penthouse and it lived up to it. I counted six bedrooms with ensuites, a gym, spa and sauna, movie room, lounge parlor, a plunge pool, conference room, an office ¡®Al¡¯ was currently using, kitchen, laundry, dining area and a games room.

    But it was more than just a penthouse, I had to remind myself. It was a bunker and as such, hidden from view at one end was a series of operational rooms. Storerooms of longlife foods such as dehydrated products, preserves, vacuum packed and frozen meals. Medical stores, a small armory and tool room. Power generation and storage as well as water tanks, filtration and heating, all of which seemed to be linked to the world above but with cut offs.

    There was another operational room that''s purpose was less obvious and it was only once I flipped through a manual hanging on the wall did I know what it was. A ventilation and air filtration system. Reading the manual I realised that the ventilation system keep air circulating down here and when the filtration system was turned on, it would first feed all that air through a machine to filter out pathogens, hazardous gases, ash and radioactive fallout.

    It was a scary reminder of the cold war era.

    To finish my exploration, I wandered back down the main hallway until I reached the bunkers large metal blast door. This thing looked airtight, tough and bore an eight digit keypad lock.

    As I turned back to return to my room, a brief glimpse of something white drew my eye.

    Squatting down I saw it was the reflective white corner of a polaroid from under the hallways teak cabinet, that had caught my attention. Reaching down I carefully picked it up by its edge and gently blew away its thick covering of dust.

    A faded picture of a happy family stared back at me, the proud mother and father posing around brown haired baby wrapped in white swaddling. I recognised one of the figures, there in the photo was a younger clean shaven ¡®Al¡¯ the sparse speckling of grey hairs and furrowed brow missing. Holy crap! Dadneto is a dad!

    Who was the woman in the photo and where was the kid now? Flipping over the photo I checked for a date or perhaps an annotation on the back, but it was blank, unmarked. The style of clothes were maybe two decades old, I couldn¡¯t really tell.

    I wanted to ask ¡®Al¡¯ about the photo, but I didn¡¯t want him to know I had seen something so personal. Not able to bare returning such a potentially important picture to where I found it under the cabinet, I carefully tucked it into my waistband under my top.

    Once back in my room, I wrapped it in tissues and secreted it away in the draw of my bedside table.

    Sitting down on my bed, I glanced at the bedside clock. 2:43pm. Ugh over two hours until Limbo opens...

    * * *

    ¡®Al¡¯ having must''ve gotten sick of watching me wear grooves into the floor with my pacing and anxious clock checking, because he closed his copy of the New York Journal with a sigh and rose from the leather armchair where he had been sitting.

    ¡°I¡¯ll call ¡®Nel¡¯ for a pick up and you can do your pacing at limbo,¡± he said with mock resignation, before walking out.

    As I walked to my room to grab my jacket, I caught my reflection in a hallway mirror. I was smiling. I was smiling! Is the rich dork growing on me?

    Well anyway, once I had my jacket and ¡®Al¡¯ his face concealing helm, we were good go when Natalie ¡®Nel¡± Gingers arrived to rift us. Unfortunately ¡®Al¡¯ wasn¡¯t her only client so she couldn¡¯t stay. I would have liked to have her around to distract me.

    Instead I was sitting in the darkest corner of Limbo with a tankard of ice cold milk, staring forlornly at last night¡¯s stage as the evening crowd shuffled in. Ok I had done some pacing before Barb and a few patron¡¯s gave me warning glares, so now I was just staring at the stage reliving last night. Unbowed was again over talking to Barb, they were quite a contrasting pair.

    I want to get up on that stage again The lights were invigorating, but I¡¯m not talking about my ability to feed on the energy. The lights made it hard to see the audience, I couldn¡¯t see their eyes on me. I¡¯ve always hated being exposed or watched, instead I could just feel the energy of audience. It wasn¡¯t an energy I could feed on, yet I felt as if their emotions and energy were stimulating me.

    The world wasn¡¯t content to let me space out and a girlish squeal of indignant surprise rang out across the bar probably drawing everyone¡¯s attention. There was Redd, gripping a blushing fox girl by the tail.

    ¡°Got you you tricky little fox!¡± Redd declared with an amused smile, like the cat who¡¯d caught the canary. This must be the fox, Kalia.

    From behind my ¡®dad approved¡¯ beverage, I watched the pair talk until Redd suddenly pointed in my direction and I found them both staring right at me, catching me staring back. Staring back into those green flecked orange eyes, I tried to disappear behind the tankard of milk.

    The pair turned back to each other and each exchanged a few more words before Redd released the hostage tail. The fox then bounced out of reach and mockingly barked at her. Redds hand flashed in front of face as she made a gesture to the fox, too fast for me to catch.

    Tail free, the fox strode straight towards me, an intimidating look on her face. Help. I¡¯m not ready for this. Before I knew it I had slipped out of my chair and backed myself into the darker shadows of the corner. I knew my instincts would one day betray me.

    Cornered, the fox and I awkwardly stood facing each other, trying to work out what to say. Her mouth opened and closed as she nervously gripped her tail. Finally her courage won out, while I was still struggling to work out what to say.

    "So you¡¯re Robin?" she asked in a brilliant move that turned the focus back onto me.

    "Um, yeah. You¡¯re Kalia? You look like Kelly said you would..." I quietly stuttered, as I stared at her ears and tail trying to predict her mood.

    "Yup,¡± she eloquently replied, ears twitching. Ok I don¡¯t know what that means.

    The conversation dried up and we went back to staring awkwardly at each other. I had thought about this moment, about meeting her, even when I was in prison and look at me. I¡¯m as awkward, as I was when I showed up dateless on prom night.

    "Can-can I hug you? Like I don¡¯t know if that''s like weird but like you went through some shit and even reading about it was like awful. So I um- I wanna hug you,¡± she blurted out with a stutter, leaving me shellshocked.

    Think Robin! What do I do? She wants to hug me! If I say no will she be offended? If I say yes, what then? Yes, that it! I¡¯ll tell her about my spikes.

    ¡°Best not¡­ My spikes are really sharp, I don¡¯t want to hurt you¡­,¡± I managed to reply.

    ¡°Nah I¡¯ll be fine ay,¡± she smiled. Crap. Abort! Abort! What do I do now!? Ok I¡¯ll play along, make sure it isn¡¯t weird. Shrugging, I uncrossed my arms and let them fall to my sides.

    She eagerly stepped forward, glanced at my spikes and then carefully wrapped her arms around me, before constricting and lifting me up slightly from my feet. Help! I tensed up as I had no idea what to do. This is beyond my almost eighteen years of experience. With great effort I relaxed and returned the hug. She was kinda warm and her soft tail was brushing against my legs.

    Maybe hugs are good?

    ¡°Thanks, by the way. It sounds like you were a real friend to Kelly when she needed it the most. I wish I was there too,¡± she murmured into my ear before returning me to the ground, still holding me.

    Unbidden memories of that place returned in the form of my interrogators voice, Jakob¡¯s laugh and Kelly¡¯s broken whimpering.

    ¡°No. No you wouldn¡¯t... ¡° I found myself whispering before I could stop myself. Way to show sympathy there Robin.

    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think¡­ ugh, just I wish I could have helped, I wish I¡¯d even known,¡± she sighed sounding guilty or maybe frustrated at her inability to have protected her friend.

    Ok how to I fix this? It wasn¡¯t my plan to upset her.

    ¡°You can¡¯t have known. You think Kelly ever expected to wake up in a morgue or wind up in that place?¡± I reassured her, with what I hoped was a comforting tone.

    ¡°Yeah I guess you¡¯re right,¡± she agreed with a grimace, letting me go. Did I fuck up?

    ¡°Uh, speaking of Kelly¡­ please tell me she¡¯s with you?¡± she asked, staring at me with pleading puppy eyes.

    She didn¡¯t know about the transfer?

    ¡°I first noticed she was gone more than a week ago, after she stopped responding. They wanted to study her. He said they transferred her, mentioned putting her through the scientific method. I uh, came here for help finding her. Kelly seemed to think you could do anything,¡± venom slipped into my voice as I remembered his voice. He who took both Ms Clark and Kelly from me.

    Kelly really did think the world of Kalia, she¡¯d believed Kalia could have walked into the prison and broken us out right under the guards noses. That¡¯s some faith.

    Kalia¡¯s face twisted into a grimace, I guess Kelly was a sore spot for her too. Ok that sounded stupid, of course Kelly is. Kalia saw her die and I know some naysayers will claim it couldn¡¯t have meant that much, they only knew each over for days, but I knew how much an encounter like that could mean.

    Kelly told me how much that encounter meant to her, for however short a time Kalia was a friend she could be authentically herself with and not someone she had to pretend to not be as bubbly around. For Kalia I imagine Kelly was something similar to what she was for me, a link to normality, a light in the dark, but especially for Kalia a lifeline that enabled her to start building a new life and identity.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Fuck that is so awful. Aw Kelly¡­ I will tear down those cunts and burn their¡­ nevermind. What I can do is complicated. It depends how much I can trust you and Milk Dad.¡±

    Milk Dad? I get the Dad part, but is she making a stab at my drink or is there some history with Unbowed I don¡¯t know about? But enough about that, can she trust us? What is that about?

    I seriously wondered what Kalia could have to hide, given how evasive she was being. Was she some kind of foxy femme fatale spy and If she told us, she¡¯d have to kill us? The only thing more unlikely was...

    ¡°What?! You¡¯re not about to tell me that you have a secret identity or something? Something unbelievable, like you¡¯re actually that fox thief , Vulptrix-¡± I teased, laughing at how preposterous the thought was, until I felt my brain squeal in pain. My eyes snapped shut and I raised my arms to cradle my poor head.

    Anyone who has had a bad enough migraine, knows how hard it can be to form words when pain has captured your mind. As I struggled to regain my train of thought and put words to it, my self-appointed father figure protectively stepped between me as my ¡®attacker¡¯.

    ¡°What have you done to my-, to Wraith!¡± Oh boy¡­ He really is thinking about me that way...

    ¡°That¡¯s a long story Milk Dad, we got somewhere private to talk?¡± she asked, her posture and tone shifting to something else. Something more serious, that telegraphed she wasn¡¯t someone to mess with.

    Barely blinking at her change in attitude, ¡°Al¡¯ whipped out his phone from that compartment in his armor and hit the speed dial. Poor Nel, she put up with a lot in her dealings with Unbowed. I guess the pay and the enjoyment she got teasing him, made it worth her while.

    ¡°Nel, I need a pick up ASAP! Limbo to the bunker¡­ Yes, I understand. I¡¯ll pay for you to move your current booking! Quick!¡± he organised, his business tone showing up.

    ¡®Al¡¯s phone was back in his armor, barely a second after hanging up and he was already protectively wrapping his arm around my shoulders as he herded us into the cloak room.

    ¡°Alright then,¡± I barely heard Kalia murmur from behind as the soft sound of her footfalls followed us.

    Nel was already waiting for us inside with a rift ready when we got there. She really had dropped everything and heeded ¡®Al¡¯s summons.

    Something seemed to come over Kalia when she saw the portal, like she was spellbound or mesmerized by it. Was this what I had looked like when I gazed at that Rift¡¯s edge? Nel and ¡®Al¡¯s hadn¡¯t noticed yet, but their small talk halted when they noticed Kalia take several shuffling steps forward.

    It was as soon as kalia reached for the portal, that everyone present knew something was wrong. Nel gave a started yelp as she spotted the fox girl¡¯s glazed eyes, barely half a moment before Kalia grabbed the portal by its razor edge.

    We all watched in horror as both the fox girl and portal, began to strobe with white incandescent light. But, before even the ginger rifter could reach her, I grabbed Kalia¡¯s shoulder to pull her free.

    Flash.

    Vision clearing, I found myself standing in a vast city square amidst the to and fro of a great battle. It was not any city that I recognised, the buildings were multistory blocky constructions of white stone with marble colonnades and towers of crystal scraping the heavens. The architecture was if the distant past and future had been melted together. Directly above us in an alien green sky, a red sun hung as if watching the conflict below.

    Two great armies clashed around me. On one side from behind a line of bipedal wolfen tech-constructs, robed humans threw mustered a beleaguered defence, as they rained down blasts of light and fire into an apocalyptic gathering of beings from legend. The second army was something both wild and primal to behold. A breathtaking host of beings wielding the primal forces of creation, brushed shoulders with animalistic entities and creatures from myth, as they pressed onwards gaining ground.

    Looking behind me, I could tell I was standing amongst the legendary host¡¯s vanguard, where they had pushed ahead into the heart of the magi.

    A helmed man with the thrust of his trident sent a wave of water crashing into the ranks of the humans, sending them sprawling. With a joyous laugh as she leapt past me, an antlered woman with a bow of spun moonlight loosed a trio of blinding arrows into the ranks of the robed humans. As if chasing after her, a man almost her twin bearing a bow of flaring sunfire, cheered as he joined the rout.

    One of the host, a shadowy woman garbed in the night, turned to me and shouted my name, beckoning me to join their charge.

    As if recognising them, my heart cried out with joy as they pressed their advantage and cleaved through the broken ranks of the magi.

    Even as their forces were scattered into pockets of defenders making their final stands as they forced out to the fringes of the square, they refused to surrender. Regrouping, the most fanatical robed magi made a last ditch defence on the steps of a colossal palace, boxed in all sides by their awe-inspiring foes.

    A lone crowned figure, robed in cloth of resplendent whites and purples, who was as awe inspiring as any of the great host opposing him, emerged from the palace. With just the overwhelming strength of his oppressive presence, the battlefield went quiet. The silence was quickly broken by the roar of the magi as rallied under the figures gaze. ¡®ATLAS!¡¯ they chanted.

    From within his robe¡¯s billowing sleeves, the figure Atlas drew out a metallic orb made of a million ever shifting and twisting fractal pieces. Imperiously raising his hand, he looked down on the legendary host with contempt and held out the orb before him. A torrent of icy light burst forth, lancing towards the attackers.

    Wherever that dread beam touched, empty space was found, whomever it touched, blazed like shattered rainbow and then vanished as if they had never existed. Some began to flee, while others attempted to break through the magi¡¯s final defence and end their despotic leader.

    One of the host, a bearded exemplar of a being, unleashed a jagged spear of lighting even as the beam of unmaking struck him. A triumphant grin adorned his face even as he ceased to exist.

    Crack.

    All eyes turned to the orb. Moments earlier it had been cutting through the ranks of its master¡¯s enemies like a hot knife through butter. Now growing cracks radiated out from where the lightning had struck it. As it¡¯s metallic casing shattered the orb screamed, it¡¯s voice causing the reality around it to distort with a haze of geometric and fractal patterns.

    Then with the ear splitting noise of metal tearing under strain like a peal of thunder, an explosive flash of light erupted forth. Reds, blues, greens, yellows, oranges, purples and every colour imaginable seared into my earballs as the light slowly engulfed the battle like a billowing explosion.

    As it reached me I heard someone call out my name. It was a different name this time I thought, as the colours washed over me and I felt as if my very soul was being shredded, torn fragments carried off on the explosion¡¯s shockwaves.

    Flash.

    As if thrown back into my body, I found myself again in the cloak room and extremely dizzy.

    Almost stumbling backwards, I held onto Kalia¡¯s shoulder for support. Turning around, she faced me and again our eyes met. She looked as shocked and confused as I felt. To borrow an expression, she looked like she had seen a ghost.

    Had she seen what I saw? What even had I seen? That host had felt so familiar, I swear I knew them, recognised them and felt like I should know their names. What names had they called me? Erebus? Aether? But that definitely wasn¡¯t America and I¡¯d bet it wasn¡¯t Earth either, that sun had been too large and too red and don¡¯t get me started on the colour of the sky.

    ¡°That was a pretty fuckin¡¯ dumb idea miss. Coulda¡¯ lost a finger or somethin¡¯ you don¡¯t seem to use, like your mind,¡± Nel¡¯s voice rang out as she chastised Kalia, grounding me back in the moment.

    ¡°Lang- ,¡± ¡®Al¡¯ began before deciding better, maybe he¡¯s finally learning to read the moment.

    ¡°Nevermind¡­ Please, just carry on. Ladies first,¡± he directed, frustrations slipping into his voice.

    Looking back, I could tell Kalia wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable going through the portal, her long fur covered ears were swiveling left and right and her tail was all fuzzed out. I can¡¯t say I was comfortable going through anymore, despite my previous safe rifts, after what we¡¯d just experienced. So I could only imagine her hesitation, or maybe I was reading the situation wrong and she was just uncomfortable going into what could potentially be a trap.

    Flashing her what I hoped was a comforting smile, I need to check this in the mirror later, I led the way, stepping through the rift. I really hope I didn¡¯t look creepy or like I was about to eat her.

    Moments later Kalia was behind me followed by ¡®Al¡¯ and finally Nel who lets the tear in reality snap shut behind her. ¡®Home sweet home?¡¯, I questioned as we stepped into the bunker''s hallway, where I''d first arrived nights before.

    I really hope Unbowed isn¡¯t going to do anything to spook Kalia, because I could already see her looking for exits, no less on alert than she had been before coming through the rift. That tail was almost fanning the air with every anxious swish.

    ¡°If you will¡­¡± Unbowed gestured for us to follow him with a slight bow and a sweep of his arm. Nel was wandering off in the other direction, my bet was on lounge room and ¡®Al¡¯s liquor cabinet. I guess this was apart of how ¡®Al¡¯ had paid her to cancel the rest of her night¡¯s bookings.

    Following ¡®Al¡¯ into his bunker¡¯s office, we stood in front of his desk declining the option to sit. It wasn¡¯t my first time in here and I could tell that despite his efforts to furnish the room, it was mainly for show. There was little trace of how he might be under the mask, nothing to identify him or anything to suggest a personal touch.

    ¡°This office is just for entertaining guests of your nature, I don¡¯t keep anything overly important in here. Anyway you wished to speak in private, let¡¯s continue. You have one minute to explain why you were harming someone under my protection,¡± he calmly threaten, letting his overprotective dad side to the fore.

    If Kalia¡¯s tail was already fuzzed out, it now angrily bristled with indignation at his accusations.

    ¡°Well, like, for starters... I wasn¡¯t really hurting her. At least not intentionally. It¡¯s part of how I protect my identity. Robin, you joked about me being Vulptrix? Well, here goes!¡± she said in no a bullshit tone.

    Reaching into a concealed pocket in the pleats of her skirt, she pulled out a silver diamond shaped pendant and slipped it around her neck.

    I almost fell over over the chair beside me as I stepped back in surprised as Vulptrix appeared where Kalia had been standing.

    ¡°Ta daaa!¡± she said winking mischievously at us, I no longer had doubts about who she was.

    ¡°My necklace is rather protective, but now that I¡¯ve show you who I am, you don¡¯t have to worry about the head pains anymore,¡± her tone not quite apologetic.

    Talk about protective, that think was down right vicious in how it worked. I had to wonder how many victims it had already claimed.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have done this before I felt psychic nails digging into my mind?¡± I grumbled, in my almost trademark dramatic way.

    ¡°Miss Vulptrix, there are far easier ways of concealing one¡¯s identity than messing with supernatural technology beyond your understanding,¡± ¡®Al¡¯ said with a disapproving huff, unable to resist making his parental opinions heard.

    ¡°Yeah but like, none of them let me do this!¡± she said grinning as she wiggled her ears, obviously proud of them.

    ¡°I like being able to be my foxy self no matter what alter ego I¡¯m using at the time. For real though, I didn¡¯t realise how bad it was until fairly recently. Which is not to say I¡¯m going to stop using it, because a few headaches for intrusive and inquisitive people is better than doing things the way other villains do it. Not many ways to disguise I¡¯m a fox girl. Fancy armour won¡¯t work.¡±

    ¡®Al¡¯ was not ready to drop it, was he taking what happened to me personally?

    ¡°Though, for a thief as prolific and successful as yourself, it would be advisable that you pay Tinker Tailor at Custom Fine Tailors a visit. I¡¯m sure you can afford it with your spoils. I guarantee they can find you a more refined and protective look, than a simple old hoodie. Even their more deceptively casual styles pack in a considerable amount of protection. I¡¯m sure we would all rest easier if you had that,¡± lecturing her.

    I was glad it was someone else on the receiving end for once. It was nice that he cared, but after eighteen years of neglect and looking after myself, this was almost stifling.

    ¡°The hoodie is special to me¡­ it¡¯s the only piece of my past life I still have. I like to rock it when I¡¯m out thieving because it keeps me calm. M-maybe you¡¯re right though, I don¡¯t want to lose it after all. How do I find this Custom Fine Tailors? No no, you can tell me later actually, can we please get to the real reason why we¡¯re here? I¡¯m worried about Kelly,¡± Kalia replied frowning, futilely struggling against accepting his guidance.

    There was one thing since the big reveal that had me hopelessly confused. Kelly was still missing.

    Why wasn¡¯t Kelly free? This was Vulptrix the master thief, with those files couldn''t she have already stolen Kelly out from under the noses of her captors? Was there some big plan I didn¡¯t know about?

    ¡°Alright, so you¡¯re Vulptrix. No wonder Nightbinder knew where to find you, Redd also knew all along too didn¡¯t she? You have Ms Clark¡¯s case files, you have some great rescue heist planned out? Don¡¯t you?¡± I asked trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

    ¡°You¡¯re the famous Vulptrix, the thief who can break into anywhere. You run heroes around in circles. I¡¯ve only been out a couple days and I¡¯m aware of your reputation.¡±

    My words seemed to weigh down on her. All of a sudden she looked exhausted, as she sighed and slumped into a chair. Her face wore a troubled expression and she seemed so vulnerable, nothing like the pictures and video of Vulptrix I had seen online.

    Glancing over at ¡®Al¡¯, I could see him tense up, as if resisting the urge to reach across the desk and pull her up into a hug.

    ¡°I¡¯m not all that. I¡¯m sorry. I¡­ tried you know? That factory hit? That was my reaction to finding out what happened to you and Kelly in that prison. I realise now that it wasn¡¯t constructive, but I just needed to hurt the people responsible! Honestly I¡¯m lost about what to do.¡±

    Ears flopping, Kalia sounded as lost as I felt. I had to wonder what she had been through since Kelly died in front of her.

    Unbowed sighed, I knew that sigh! I watched as any wariness he had towards Kalia melt away as the last of the tension left him.

    ¡°This is far too heavy to have been left on you girl¡¯s shoulders¡­ I figure it was Redd who retrieved the case files for you. I just wish she had given them to me,¡± regret coloured his words.

    ¡°I had been tracking Yelmorn¡¯s activities since the first Emergence and was aware of their connections with the Taskforce and the prison. I lost a lead when the OMR caseworker was stabbed, I was only able to ascertain the location of her client Miss Wraith in the prison, prior to my break in. Her office at the OMR was ransacked and I only learnt of her home office, after it was burgled by Miss Redd,¡± Unbowed explained to us. Well probably more for Kalia, as I had been told most of this in bits and pieces over the last few days.

    I watched as Kalia seemed ready to argue the point, only to deflate again and nod.

    ¡°Yeah I can get those case files to you. I actually have your papers Robin. The ones that prove your new identity and stuff, I assume you want those too?¡±

    Yup that¡¯s me, officially Robin Wraith, F, born 14th of March, 2001 and all it is now is a way for the the police to identify me...

    ¡°She had my documentation? I knew she had put in the paperwork to sort it out... I guess I should take it, but it¡¯s funny. She went through all that effort to preserve my identity and now I can¡¯t use any of it¡­ I don¡¯t think she had this in mind when she promised to get me out,¡± I let out a bitter laugh and lapsed into silence.

    ¡°Yes given my research and resources, those case files may allow me to work out where she is and who is responsible,¡± Unbowed requested as he turned and gave me a caring look. Of course, Dad to the rescue.

    ¡°Let my handle your documentation, I might be able to do something with it and maybe once we finish this, we can get you exonerated.¡±

    I guess money can be considered a superpower in its own right, I can just about imagine him directing an army of suited lawyers like a general.

    ¡°Alright, sure. Should I bring the papers around tomorrow?¡± Kalia asked. Was she trying to change the subject, having sensed the mood?

    Interlacing his fingers, a thoughtful expression appeared on ¡®Al¡¯s face, before moments later, he nodded.

    ¡°If you are free in daylight hours, there is someone I want to arrange for you to both to visit. If you give me a contact number, I¡¯ll arrange for Nel to call you to arrange pick up when it is time.¡±

    Wasn¡¯t he joining us and who were we visiting? His habit of not saying everything was something I¡¯d have to break.

    Kalia blushed at some unspoken thought.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try get there as early as possible¡­ but recently the time I get up has depended on Nightbinder,¡± she almost whispered as her blush deepened. I guess the shipping dynamics speculation online were right.

    I was pretty overwhelmed by the time a somewhat tipsy Nel stumbled back, opened a rift for Kalia to leave and fell asleep on one of Al¡¯s couches. I wasn¡¯t far behind her in returning to my nest.

 Interlude 3: Unbowed

    <h2>Interlude 3: Unbowed</h2>

    5:08pm, 16/02/2019, 2 Limbo 2 Furious, Penrith

    Sometimes I have to wonder if there is a higher power out there laughing at me. You plan a prison raid as a statement, to free some unjustly held prisoners, gather evidence and obtain vital witnesses. Then life throws a curve ball and everything goes pear shape. You find yourself the guardian of a kid, and having to relearn how to be a parent. So now I am juggling the responsibilities of being a parent, being a wanted Supervillain and preserving the family name and legacy.

    Everything has lead here, to this moment. Here I am sitting here at the bar with a French 75, talking to Barb while the kid is out of my sight, over in the corner waiting on a meeting. I think worrying about her is giving me a stomach ulcer.

    That kid has done a number on me. I had been prepared to babysit the kid until I had things wrapped up, but I had never expected her to be so¡­ so vulnerable.

    I¡¯d read her file, I¡¯d even had her foster parents investigated and what I¡¯d found went beyond neglect, beyond abuse. It was a miracle she had come out of it as well as she had, but it was obvious that it and her time in that prison had scarred her. Except she wasn¡¯t the type to let that beat her, I could see it with her student records, her part time work, her willingness to train, the attitude she wielded as a weapon, as much as she did a shield.

    Don¡¯t mistake this for complaining. She¡¯s a fighter and¡­ She¡¯s a good kid and she¡¯s growing on me. There! I said it!

    Not to mention she certainly kept me entertained, which was good for me. I¡¯ll admit I¡¯d been burying myself in my work for too long. The last decade I had lived for my work. Not the healthiest coping mechanism I know, but it was what it was and even becoming Unbowed had ended up being more of the same.

    It had been amusing watching her earlier today. It was a struggle to keep pretending to read my newspaper, while she anxiously paced as if trying to wear grooves in my floor unable to tear her eyes from the clock. Then when 5pm clicked over and Limbo was opening, I feigned surrender and told her, we could head over. The one-eighty from anxious to excited was positively adorable to watch.

    Is this what I¡¯ve missed out on? Would she have been like this too? I¡¯d missed a lot of things. Potentially taking her to little league games, meeting and intimidating her first date, parent teacher nights, helping her with homework, seeing her graduate...

    I swiftly crushed that train of thought before it could further sour my mood.

    I¡¯d neglected my reserved armchair tonight, to talk to Barb over at the bar. We had one of those funny sort of adversarial friendships. As people, I¡¯m not sure we could be more different and behave like oil and water, but we know we can count on the other.

    Our first encounter was years ago, long before Limbo. I¡¯d reached out to her for a job, a few of my associates had told me that she was the person to go to if you needed a light shined on some shadows or secrets shaken loose. She shook a few of mine loose too. I should have realised that in her field, only those with a healthy amount of caution survive long enough to retire.

    Thankfully my secrets stayed safe with her. I¡¯m not sure why though, but after that I passed jobs and clients her way and we became friends.

    ¡°You ever think about returning to your old job?¡± I asked absentmindedly.

    ¡°Pshaw Alex. Exciting as it was, chasing down leads and getting into brawls is a young woman¡¯s job. That¡¯s not to mention my beloved Limbo needs me as much as I need her. And that¡¯s not even the half of it, counting all these folks who need somewhere they can get a drink and unwind without judgement,¡± she proudly said, without looking up from the glass she was polishing.

    A place where you can be yourself without judgement, I knew the value of it. I longed for it. It¡¯s funny the closest I could get to being myself is when I am wearing this mask. For all these Emerged, this place was a lifesend. Sure, there were bars for people like me, social spaces you could go to meet others and drink without judgement, but for me judgement would be waiting outside. My face and name would see to that.

    ¡°You¡¯re a service to the community Barb. A regular back alley angel,¡± I replied, chuckling. She really had pulled off something unique, even heroes would hesitate to breach the neutrality.

    Trying to arrest or fight another patron could see you not just banned from here, but also the other purportedly neutral vendors. Where then would they go, when they needed to put an ear to the ground, or when their super suit needed repairing.

    There was a whole network of neutral parties providing services to all sides. Limbo providing drinks, entertainment, community and information. Custom Fine Tailors providing costumes and other specialized apparel. Spider, purveyor of new real fake identities, perfect for Emerged who lost had theirs, those who want to disappear from the eyes of the law and heroes who need a cover identity for job or to create their Clark Kent.

    The OMR as useful as it was for heroes and law abiding Emerged, left many needs and niches for others to fill. Especially if you were accessible to a larger spectrum of the Emerged community.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°If I was less proud, I might even say you do more for regular Emerged than I do with my lofty goals. And please, call me Al if you¡¯re not going say Unbowed,¡± I appealed diplomatically.

    Across the bar, a squeal of indignant surprise rang out, drawing most people¡¯s attention. Barb didn¡¯t seem fussed so why would I bother looking around. That drunken mutt Barb is soft on, was probably the cause given where the sound had come from.

    I say drunken mutt with some fondness, besides she was hardly the proud noble wolf her ears and tail would suggest. It¡¯s funny for a supposed pack animal, she seems to go to great lengths to distance herself from others. I could certainly relate, she probably had her own tragic backstory. Barb at least had inserted herself in as some sort of mentor.

    ¡°So Al,¡± Barb spritzed a little sudsy water on the counter and wiped it up with what looked like the oldest rag on Earth, ¡°having the kid around, that mean you gotta keep it down when you have anyone special over. Y¡¯know. Someone special.¡±

    Great, another roundabout pass at inquiring into my sordid love life.

    ¡°It is hard for the kid to impact my love life when it doesn''t exist. I don¡¯t really have the heart to put on one night stands for the tabloids with models and actresses. At least. . . Not anymore. I can¡¯t just do that to keep the public happy,¡± I struggled to keep the pain out of my voice. It was a sore topic for me.

    Barb shook her head, ¡°I¡¯m not talking about your little gossip rag flings Al. I¡¯m talking about you. When was the last time you were honest about what who you wanted and had an honest to God, genuine, no bullshit fucking relationship. And I mean it with the fucking too.¡±

    ¡°Even with social media these days, you can¡¯t honestly expect making a grindr profile would work for someone like me. Besides, I¡¯m still not ready for a relationship, not after how much last ended,¡± I sighed, rubbing the ring finger on my left hand.

    ¡°Al. At a certain point you gotta let things go. It¡¯s been seventeen years! Seventeen. You need to stop beating yourself up for all that mess. Could you have done better? Yeah probably. But you didn¡¯t know it was going to be as dirty as it was. And damn you if you¡¯re gonna yourself stand in the way of your happiness. I¡¯m not saying throw yourself into marriage again, we know that doesn¡¯t end well. But damn take a risk. Open up to people. Have some anonymous sex. Drink something that¡¯s not your fancy little french drink. Live a little,¡± Barb lectured, obviously sick to death of my bullshit as she would call it.

    But mess only began to describe my last relationship. We grew up together and I ended up mistaking familiarity and fondness for love. I let both our parents pressure us into marriage. It was only then I realised my mistake. I love and doted on our daughter, but my wife? I did my very best to be the dutiful husband to her¡­ Eventually I had to tell her the truth, the look of disgust on her face. I had never realised how much her parent¡¯s beliefs had rubbed off on her until that point.

    The divorce was messy, we both had prenups and that wasn¡¯t the problem. She had her family¡¯s wealth and now runs a successful lobbying firm which is a constant pain in my side. No¡­ She told the court I was a corruptive influence. She got custody, forbade me from seeing Lizzy and she wouldn¡¯t accept any money to help raise her.

    In the seventeen years since she has filled my daughter with hate for me. I¡¯ve tried reaching out¡­ But our girl, she sees the world in a naive and twisted sense of black and white, right and wrong.

    Barb obviously wasn¡¯t satisfied with my moody silence, ¡°Ain¡¯t it time you moved on? Seventeen years Al! Seventeen years, things have changed. People hardly care about who sleeps with who anymore. At least nobody who matters does. You can¡¯t keep burying a part of who you are, hoping and holding out on Lizzy coming back to you. She is too far gone. But you, you can still do real good and I am not talking about this Unbowed gig you have going on. You have a second chance.¡±

    How am I meant to reply to that?

    Looking up from her polishing, Barb turned her head towards the corner table. A quick glance showed Robin¡¯s contact had shown up. The kid was deep in conversation with an orange tailed fox girl.

    ¡°That Robin, she seems like a good kid and she has a great voice too. You can really feel the emotion. That one could use a good parent,¡± she hinted, quite unsubtly.

    I could feel a steel capped boot forcefully and repeatedly impacting my shin. I wasn¡¯t going to give her the satisfaction of me acknowledging it. Just grin and bear it.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were looking into adoption Barb! You¡¯re really setting down roots. You¡¯ve opened a bar and gotten yourself a steady job, now you¡¯re looking at raising kids and you¡¯ve probably got a dog, cat and a three bedroom house in your future,¡± I teased, deflecting.

    Her glare was definitely worth it. She might have retired from her old line of work, but she hated any insinuations that she¡¯s growing soft.

    ¡°Fine Barb, you¡¯re right. Robin does need a good parent, but what makes you think she would want to stick around with someone like me when this is all over. I¡¯m a workaholic who is also a villain in my spare time and it¡¯s like you said it¡¯s been seventeen years since I had a hand in raising a kid,¡± I argued before downing the rest of French 75.

    ¡°If you say so Al,¡± an exasperated Barb replied, rolling her eyes.

    ¡°Make sure you let her know she is welcome to sing here again, I¡¯ll even pay next time. Still¡­ It would be a waste for someone of her talent to sing in a place like this forever. You should put some of that business sense to real work and teach her how to grow that voice into a living. Who knows, maybe teaching will suit you,¡± she said, giving me a sly raise of the eyebrow.

    She knew that I knew what she was doing. She also knew it was working regardless. Always did. I¡¯m glad she wasn¡¯t an enemy because she would easily have me on the ropes even without powers.

    ¡°I¡¯ll think on it¡­¡± I said with a noncommittal shrug. Conceding the point would likely end with her lording it over me with a smug grin plastered on her face.

    I smiled at the thought of Robin¡¯s little facial expressions, ¡°From the way she kept looking up at the stage earlier, I¡¯m sure she would love to sing here again.¡± I¡¯ll have to talk to Lachlan when I get the chance, he will want to hear her, before he makes a call one way or the other.

    I wonder how her meet up us going? Looking over to where she was, I could see her holding her head in hands, grimacing in pain. She was under attack? The fox girl, Kalia was it her doing?

    That¡¯s my dau- charge, you rotten...

    Rocketing to my feet, I crossed the bar in a few long strides and placed myself between her and the fox.

    ¡°What have you done to my-, to Wraith!¡± I demanded as I rounded on Kalia.

 Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage & into, Chapter 14: Hospital

    <h2>Chapter 14: Hospital</h2>

    After a year of fighting, pushing back the city-state¡¯s expansion, freeing the subjugated human tribes and kingdoms, we were finally here at the outskirts of the city. Below us we could see the great harbour, with the many rings of the city set within in, around a central island. Their blockly buildings of white, black and red stone, decorated with orichalcum and other precious metals sparkled in the rising sun.

    So great had this threat to the mortal humans been, that almost all the rival divine clans and their servants had come together as a single army in this cause. From Olympia, ?gyptus, Scythea, Assyria, Libya, Indii, Celt?, Assuwa and even far off lands like the Dreaming and Turtle islands they had come. Allfathers, King of Kings and Creators had all set aside titles and disputes over aspects of dominion, to for a time work together.

    I couldn¡¯t describe how this felt. How much pride we felt. Never before had we come together like this. Together we had fought a war on many fronts to end their so called crusade of enlightenment. It was also a tragedy, never before had a people been so blessed by us or received as many gifts, only to declare themselves above us and their mortal kin.

    A great tremor passed beneath our feet. They had been occuring ever more regularly since we drove them back to their home island. Whatever the city was preparing had disturbed the great magma chamber below the island.

    Their spell work was vast and mighty, but it was not that what we feared. No matter what great weapons they turned against us we would win. No, what we feared was what such a spell would cause unintentionally.

    Two great ravens flew over the tent where our leaders discussed their plans, the Alliance of Divine Clan¡¯s High Council wanted to mount the final assault as soon as possible, before the city could destroy the island with their reckless magics.

    Another tremor rocked the Alliance¡¯s army, this time great cracks began to form allowing sulphurous gases to escape. It was too late.

    Looking down at the city I could see a great gathering of aether, spun into a vast network of lines, as their great spell weaving reached its zenith.

    The great spell exploded outwards encompassing the city in a flash of light. The city and the rock below it was gone. In the spell¡¯s wake, a ravenous vortex of void and the shattered remnants of aether, tore at reality. So they had decided to flee...

    The spells shockwaves tore into the island, shattering the already weakened rock that had once held the pressurised mass of magma below in check.

    The vortex continued to grow and was beginning to assert its pull on the army and started grabbing the gathered immortals and swallowing them into its void. Terror gripped my heart, as I felt myself lifted up into the air and pulled towards the vortex¡¯s maw.

    Isolated plumes of lava was exploding free of the earth and molten rocks were being launched into the air by the escaping gases. Lightning speared down from clouds of ash to meet it.

    As I passed the vortex¡¯s threshold the island below exploded and my heart stopped. Already tumultuous sea was rushing in to wear land once and turning to steam where it met molten rock.

    A storm of aether and void swirled around me as I travelled through the vortex¡¯s bowels, one wrong move and I could find myself in the space between reality. Unprotected as I was this journey should have shredded my mind had I been a mortal. Even so I momentarily blacked out and when I opened my eyes, I found myself on my back beneath a green sky.

    All was lost.

    For the second time in a week I woke up thrashing, tangled in my own sheets. This nightmare was infinitely more detailed and real than any I¡¯d had previously. It had been like I was living some sort of historical fantasy film, but as far as I knew I¡¯d never set foot in New Zealand.

    Whatever had happened with the portal last night had obviously turned my imagination against me. She just had to touch it¡­ With that deadly curiosity, Kalia acted more like a cat than a fox and I just hoped she had the lives to survive it.

    Untangling myself, I pried free a few of my spikes that had become caught on the Tinker patented hero-grade sheets. I¡¯d have to thank Tinker when I saw them next, it was nice being able to dress and sleep without shredding fabric.

    It was time to see what surprises ¡®Al¡¯ had for me.

    Showered and dressed, I arrived in the dining room to find ¡®Al¡¯ not in his Unbowed uniform, but a tailored business suit.

    I stood there stunned for a few long moments, a nearby grandfather clock audibly ticking in the background. It was the same man in the photograph I¡¯d found, the same face under Unbowed¡¯s mask, it was ¡®Al¡¯s face, it seemed both alien and familiar above that suit.

    He wasn¡¯t a young man by most measures going by the faint lines across his brow and around his eyes or the sprinkling of salt grey hairs, but his face was more than handsome and it was clear that under the tailored suit his body was trim and still at its peak. He looked at ease in it and with that complete image I swore I had seen him somewhere before.

    It was like the familiarity of an uncle you¡¯d only meet once when you were younger or an actor from a tv show that finished airing decades ago. Every bone in my body told me I should know who he was. I have to be honest, even prior to the Emergence I¡¯ve had bigger things to worry about than knowing the identities of Penrith¡¯s rich and famous.

    A polite cough snapped me out of my staring and my cheeks began to burn as I blushed out of embarrassment.

    ¡°What? Did you think that costume was my only outfit? I shape up quite nicely don¡¯t I? Very fetching don¡¯t you think?¡± he asked with a twinkle of amusement in his eye, as he twisted around to pose and provide me with a better look.

    ¡°Umm¡­ ah yes. You¡­¡± I stammered and trailed off, my brain refusing to help get me out of this.

    ¡°By your gobsmacked reaction I am going to say that¡¯s a yes. ...I¡¯m doing it again, you need an explanation. As much as I¡¯ve enjoyed having the pitter-patter of teenage feet around the house, I¡¯ve spent too long away from my civilian responsibilities. Normally things can run themselves in my absence, with just the odd text message or email to smooth things over, but things have come up that require my personal attention,¡± he explained in a roundabout manner that left me with more questions about who he actually was.

    ¡°So we¡¯re not visiting, whoever you wanted Kalia and I to see today?¡± I replied frowning slightly.

    ¡°Oh right. Yes. While I won¡¯t be joining you, I have arranged for Miss Gingers to pick up Kalia and yourself. There is someone who you¡¯ll want to see and will want to see you. They are currently in a very private clinic recovering from an emergency surgery following a life threatening injury. Up till now they have mostly been in and out of medical sedation as they recovered.¡±

    I swear he enjoyed keeping me in the dark, even when he was telling me something he managed to neatly wrap it in more mystery like a rhetorical christmas present.

    ¡°And you¡¯re not telling me who they are, why?¡± I asked with as much sass as I could muster.

    ¡°It¡¯s a surprise!¡± he said, with accompanying jazz hands. Kill me now¡­ There is a nice dark nook behind the generators where the lights don¡¯t reach, I can probably go hide there if he embaresses me further.

    * * *

    Growing up I had always thought dorky dads were just a character archetype in tv and movies. Are all dads like this? It¡¯s kinda nice, but I would die from the embarrassment if anyone knew I felt that way. I¡¯ll deny everything, if you try to tell anyone! Thankfully he showed mercy and it wasn¡¯t long until I¡¯d finished breakfast and Nel had picked me up.

    Seeing ¡®Al¡¯ all dressed up, Nel couldn¡¯t help but tease and wolf whistle.

    ¡°Looking good Al. Looks like you are going to do a day of almost honest work. I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve decided to show the kid you can be a positive role model. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s had few enough,¡± she said, glancing my way with a trace of pity.

    I hated those looks. Growing up I¡¯d thought people would be moved by their pity and help, maybe even adopt me, or later on report the Anderson¡¯s to the CPA. I had those looks from teachers, other kid¡¯s parents, even strangers. No, the looks of pity always ended up being a false sympathy, before they turned their back and went on with their lives.

    Nel must have noticed my reaction to her pity, because she smoothed her expression into a smile, ¡°But hey, makes it all the more impressive that you¡¯ve turned out to be someone worth knowing eh?¡±

    I appreciated the effort, but I¡¯m hardly worth the attention of people like her and Al. I mean sure I survived everything thrown my way, but I¡¯m a screw up. I couldn¡¯t keep my head down long enough to get out of the Anderson¡¯s on my own, I didn¡¯t make a single night Emerged before I wound up in prison and I managed to get Ms Clark murdered and Kelly into a worse place.

    Of course I couldn¡¯t say that to ¡®Al¡¯ or Nel that would just get me more looks of pity so I flashed her a grateful smile.

    * * *

    The first stop Nel made was in an alley behind Sherwood mall, near the loading docks. It wasn¡¯t often I¡¯d been able come here growing up, but I¡¯d made a few trips after school with ephemeral friends. Most of the time though, Sherwood mall was outside my budget. The Anderson¡¯s were hardly the sort to give an allowance and the money I made working part time went to essentials and my nest egg.

    The alley looked empty until a flash of orange barely poking up above a grey dumpster caught my gaze. The orange twitched and I realised it was the fluffy tips of two orange furred ears.

    Having heard our arrival, a familiar fox girl stepped forward from where she had been leaning on the wall beside the dumpsters. Dusting off her black cardigan, she then straightening her skull and rose patterned skater dress, I had to think she wasn¡¯t dressed for the late winter weather.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Bouncing forward uncharacteristically, I reached out to grab her hand and drag her over. She might be an adult, but like it was hard to see it given her looks and the almost childlike excitement she greeted everything with. I guess it was infectious?

    ¡°Hey there Robin. Uh, I guess my hugs were just that good huh?¡± Kalia asked with a genuine smile.

    ¡°What! No¡­ I just, I- I thought we should get to our destination before you get too cold,¡± I replied controlling my tone. No I wasn¡¯t excited to see her, I swear.

    ¡°Damn, I thought my hug was pretty good,¡± she said, her ears wilting. Panick! Stumbling towards her I tried to think of what to say, before I saw her eyes dancing with mirth that betrayed her intent. Note to self, foxes are not to be trusted.

    ¡°Gosh you kids, can you leave the adorable antics for when we are somewhere warmer?¡± Nel said only half jokingly as she rubbed her arms shivering.

    ¡°Ah yes! Nel, lets go!¡± I exclaimed seizing on the change of subject. Between Nel and Kalia I was liable to get seriously teased.

    ¡°Aye aye, capn¡¯,¡± Kalia chirped. She was just as bad as Nel.

    Ripping a tear in reality, Nel revealed a window into the dark cramped confines of a janitor¡¯s closet.

    ¡°After you two and mind your step, it could be slippery,¡± she instructed, before turning to Kalia and I.

    ¡°And no funny business this time!¡± she added sternly. She really didn¡¯t need to, the last time was warning enough for a lifetime. Kalia probably agreed with the way she was warily eyeing the rift as she gingerly stepped through into the waiting broom closet.

    Quickly following through after her, I found myself standing too close behind her and holding back a sneeze as a white tipped tail tickled my nose, while we made room for Nel to come through.

    ¡°Really? You could open the door and let us out. Are you both waiting for the rifter to open it for you? You can open your own doors,¡± Nel grumbled, pressed against one of the closet¡¯s shelves as she let the rift close.

    ¡°Oh! Sorry!¡± Kalia apologised, opening the door in front of her and causing us all to spill out into the sterile hallway of a hospital. An upmarket hospital I had to admit by the painted walls and art.

    Clambering back to her feet, Nel turned to herself with a finger held before her mouth.

    ¡°Be vewy, vewy quiet. Weh¡¯re hunting foxes,¡± Nel said in an exaggerated parody of a well known cartoon and motioned for us to follow her.

    The fox hunt led us down the hall into a private room on the left. Having only ever seen the emergency rooms and crowded wards of Penrith General, this was some five star opulence. The room we had stepped into had more in common with a fancy hotel room, than a hospital room had any right to be. The only reason you could tell it was one, was the standard hospital bed, wall plug ins and IV standard monitoring rig.

    Having seen us to our destination, Nel flashed a comforting smile and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaving us on our own.

    The bed sheets shifted and a pained groan broke the silence as the bed¡¯s occupant rolled over to see who had entered.

    Fuck! Fuck! Fuckl! What!? NO! What the hell is going on? She was dead! This is what you call a surprise ¡®Al¡¯, you sick bastard? You knew she was alive and you let me believe she was dead?

    I couldn¡¯t believe it, there laying in a hospital bed, chest wrapped in bandages and connected to a dozen tubes and wires was Ms Clark.

    ¡°Little Robin¡­ Sorry yu ¡®ave ta... see me like thus,¡± she croaked. Ms Clark was alive. She wasn¡¯t dead? How? I felt numb and couldn¡¯t feel my legs. A hand grasped my arm, steadying me and guided me to a seat.

    ¡°Hey easy there, I got you,¡± Kalia said gently.

    ¡°How?.. He said¡­ You were reported dead online¡­ They had an obituary!¡± I rambled.

    Kalia absently rubbed my shoulder as she mused, ¡°Yeah, I heard you died too. It was weird, because I swear I did an okay job keeping you alive until the ambulance got there.¡±

    ¡°They swutched ambulances¡­ I was told¡­ I woke up here later¡­ They had me in a coma at furst¡­ I¡¯m heeya unda the name Aylice Fostah... like that Aussie lager for Poms,¡± she managed to say between shallow breaths.

    She reached out towards where I was sitting.

    ¡°Yu got out¡­ I¡¯m so relieved... I thought I¡¯d failed yu, I have... All yur papers¡­ I can get them for yu, when¡­ I¡¯m better,¡± she said before slumping back into her pillows looking exhausted.

    I¡¯d spotted a jug of water and glasses beside a fruit bowl over on the room¡¯s table, on my way in. Standing up, I moved over to it and poured her a glass with a shaking hand. After she caught her breath, I pressed the glass into hand and helped her take a sip.

    Kalia coughed and looked awkwardly at her flicking tail, ¡°Uh, actually¡­ She has your papers now. I kinda hired someone to¡­ investigate your disappearance. She broke into your house and yeah, long story short, Robin has her papers now.¡±

    Ms Clark¡¯s eyes widened and after a moment of thought, she nodded.

    ¡°Yur going after Kelly aren¡¯t¡­ Yu¡­ Good Luck, trust yur¡­ Friends, take care of yourself and¡­ Robin don¡¯t let yurself¡­ become the monster they... paint yu as¡­¡± she finished, giving her blessing.

    ¡°I- I won¡¯t I promise. I will get Kelly,¡± I vowed, I owed both Ms Clark and Kelly that much.

    ¡°Definitely! We¡¯re supposed to be planning something today. We¡¯ll free her!¡± Kalia nodded. It had only been a short conversation but already Ms Clark¡¯s eyelids were drooping. Her recovery had a long way to go.

    Hospitals were such awkward places, everything was stale, sterile, smelled of chemicals that all failed to hide the underlying reminders of death, disease and human frailty. They were uncomfortable on an instinctive level and you didn¡¯t want to stay there any longer than you have to, but you couldn¡¯t let the person you were visiting know that. You put on a smile, made small talk and do your best to not look at your phone, watch or the clock on the wall as you waited for something that would give you an excuse to leave.

    For a while we sat in silence and watched the room¡¯s tv as we waited for Ms Clark to drift off to sleep. Daytime TV is as effective as a lullaby, if you want to fall asleep. Even the ads are boring, infomercials targeting those with a credit card, a phone and stuck inside. If I was anything like my foster parents I¡¯d think it was deliberately boring, some plot to keep kids and the old sedated during the day.

    After almost twenty minutes of this Ms Clark was softly snoring, only occasionally groaning as she tried to move in her sleep. I moved to turn off the tv before sleep claimed the rest of us, but before I could get to the remote wired to the bed, something eerie happened.

    The channel had shifted to a newsroom with a male tv anchor in front of the image of an unique skyscraper. I almost whistled when I saw it, before I caught myself remembering the sleeping patient in the room. This was an architectural feat, a single almost lipstick shaped tower with a pair of helix structures wrapping around it, rose above the Penrith skyline, in a gravity defying display of metal and glass.

    The anchor¡¯s deep melodic voice hummed with excitement as he broke the story.

    ¡°Breaking News! We¡¯ve been given an exclusive in depth look at a truly incredible new engineering marvel, right here in Penrith. For the past year, our Penrith viewers would have been watching the construction of Yelmorn Industries¡¯ new relocated headquarters in our central business district. Thanks an advanced multi staged construction plan, the building has seen record breaking construction times.

    Today Yelmorn has issued a press release, declaring that their new building¡¯s official grand opening will be in two weeks time! Now some of our viewers might have heard rumors that the skyscraper is already in use and you would be right! While the building has not yet been officially opened, much of the building is already complete and a number of the building¡¯s finished lower floors are already furnished and staffed.

    Now while that is big news for our city, as we are no city of New York and very few companies have their headquarters here. It is not the most exciting part of this announcement.

    In their release to the press, Yelmorn has announced that they will be not only sponsoring an Emerged hero team, but that they will be donating the top three floors of their new building to serve as a base for them. What is more incredible? This stunning act of generosity, or corporate America¡¯s reaction to these new times we live in? More at 6pm!¡±

    Pressing the off button, the screen went black with a static hiss. This couldn¡¯t be real. A conveniently timed news bulletin not even half an hour after we promised to liberate Kelly from Yelmorn. I mean I¡¯d expect it if this was a tv show or a book, but come on really? What are the odds? If this was a story, I would want to talk to the author about all the shit they have put me through.

    I glanced Kalia¡¯s way, only to find her staring right back at me. Gesturing for her to follow, I lead us out into the corridor, so to not wake Ms Clark.

    ¡°You also thinking that¡¯s where they are keeping Kelly?¡± I almost whispered. It would be so brazen and cunning, hiding their crimes right under the noses of Heroes and using them as glorified security guards.

    ¡°Yeah, maybe. I think? It¡¯s bloody brazen if they are and they have a lot of facilities around the area as options, but¡­ the best place to hide people might be in a state of the art building like that? One where they can hide their awful crimes behind the construction?¡± she whispered back.

    The hallway wasn¡¯t entirely empty as orderlies made their rounds, our conspiratory behavior earning us odd looks.

    Without even looking up, I muttered what I was thinking, as I tapped off a text message to Nel asking for a pick up, ¡°Two weeks¡­ We have two weeks to break in, see if Kelly is there and if so break her out. Maybe grab other evidence too. Any later and we might have a bunch of self righteous Superpatsies standing in our way.¡±

    ¡°Yeah and their defences will be fully in place. That¡¯s a deadline and a shitload of stress I didn¡¯t need in my life, but it¡¯s for Kelly¡­ so let¡¯s do this,¡± Kalia quietly mused, responding to my verbalised thoughts.

    By the time we had reached the janitor¡¯s closet Nel was already waiting with rift inside.

    One small step later be were back behind Sherwood mall. After exchanging numbers, when it became time for goodbyes, Kalia made sure to drag me into another of her hugs. How can she be so warm and fluffy?

    * * *

    Arriving back at the bunker I found ¡®Al¡¯ waiting, still in the suit from this morning, he had traded in his jacket for a floral apron.

    ¡°Ah! Robin, you are back. Good. I¡¯ve been meaning to ask, do you know how to cook?¡± he greeted.

    ¡°I can cook!¡± I proudly exclaimed. I could. I was very proud of my self reliance, I got wash my old clothes, repair the, do first aid, survive in the wild even if I had to.

    ¡°I can make toast and scrambled eggs! The Anderson¡¯s made sure I could skin, gut and roast game¡­ Oh and I can heat up canned stuff...¡± I started to eagerly list off examples, before quickly running out and falling silent.

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± ¡®Al¡¯ frowned. What not impressive enough for you? Do I need to know how to make haute cuisine?

    ¡°I CAN cook! They just didn¡¯t really allow me much in the kitchen,¡± I argued, stepping closer and glaring up at him! I wasn¡¯t going to let Mr Silverspoon say otherwise. Given he has people to cook for him, I doubt he even knows a pot from a pan.

    Holding his hands before him in a gesture of surrender, ¡®Al¡¯ attempted to placate me, ¡°Ok, ok Robin. You can cook, I believe you. However, maybe if you were interested, I could teach you a few more recipes. Maybe a bolognaise?¡±

    I¡¯d love to learn, but him teach me? Is he really implying he can cook? If a billionaire can go out and brawl with superheroes, I guess it isn¡¯t beyond the realm of possibility.

    Trying to keep a straight face and not betray my thoughts, I slowly nodded.

    ¡°Wonderful! To the kitchen! I have an apron already picked out for you. Well, rather I asked Tinker to make one up for you,¡± he happily laughed, striding off towards the kitchen without checking to see if I was even following.

    I almost had to run to keep up with him, damn long legged guys. Halting suddenly when he reached the entrance to the kitchen, I almost collided into his back and flailed my arms to catch my balance.

    ¡°Before you enter, we need to put your apron on,¡± he said, before draping a green apron, that had been hanging on a hook beside the doorway, over my head.

    Before he could tie it around me, I grabbed the ends and held out so I could see it. Embroidered amidst the durable field green fabric was three ball like robins in orange, black, white and grey threads. A smile broke across my face at that personal touch before I could even try to stop it.

    Using the moment to regain control of my emotions, I faced the wall and looped the apron¡¯s ties around myself and tied them at the front.

    After regaining my poker face I was given the kitchen¡¯s grand tour by a proud ¡®Al¡¯. After being shown all the utensils, gadgets, crockery, spices and the contents of the fridge and pantry, I was kinda feeling overwhelmed. If I had to describe exactly how I was feeling, it would a potent cocktail of awestruck, inspired and excited

    "I- I get to use all these ingredients?" I whispered hopefully.

    ¡°Yes and the cookbooks too,¡± he reassured with a kind smile. I guess he had caught me eyeing their shelf.

 Authors note: chapter delay

    Content Warning: Pet death.

    Spoiler: Spoiler<input class="spoilerButton" type="button" value="Show">

    <div>

    Unfortunately my beloved cat of 20 years''s condition worsened dramatically this week. After two years of treating a terminal diagnosis and keeping her happy with a good quality of life, she is entering her final hours.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    In light of this Songbird chapter 15 has been delayed. I do hope to finish it as soon as I can but I may not be able to write for a couple days, maybe a week or more.

    That said chapter 15 is fully planned out with notes and I have it paritially written out. Also the rest of Songbird''s arc 2 has been planned out with extensive notes and arc 3 has notes plus plans for first 3 chapters.

    I hope you can all be patient, but if you need a Kammiverse fix, please check out the linked stories in the footnote.

 Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage & into, Chapter 15: Steamed

    <h2>Chapter 15: Steamed</h2>

    It was three minutes past 5pm and people were starting to enter the now open Limbo in their ones and twos, through both the street and coat room entrances. A few sent concerned or fearful looks in my direction, while others just shrugged as they made their way to the bar to order drinks before moving onto their seats.

    It¡¯s Limbo, it was not like this was the strangest thing they had seen, or even would see and besides who would break the bar¡¯s famous neutrality?

    Not that the gazes phased me at all.

    Today was the day, my first paid gig! Al had sprung this on me only the day before and I¡¯d spent most of my spare time planning an itinerary of songs and a few surprises. I wasn¡¯t going into this unprepared unlike my first improvised gig, not to mention I was being paid. Paid!

    I¡¯d been feeling like a freeloader ever since I was freed from my cell. Al is nice and I doubt the cost of looking after me would even be noticeable with his wealth, but¡­ Prior to all this mess, I had school during the day, then when I got home I had homework, all the chores the Andersons left me, and my part time jobs. I¡¯d been a greaser working the deep fryer three nights of the week, and on weekends I¡¯d worked checkout at walmart.

    Thank the Gods, I¡¯d had the foresight to hide that nest egg I¡¯d been building so my foster parents couldn¡¯t take it. Maybe one day I¡¯d be free to use it to go to college and start a new life like I had planned. Now that my planned future medical costs had vanished, it even seemed like a lot more money.

    Despite everything that had happened so far, it might shock you to hear that I don¡¯t hate my changes. It¡¯s not like this wasn¡¯t what I had wanted all along, well aside from all the unearthly extra additions. I hadn¡¯t counted on those. The spikes still do cause me some trouble, but I no longer saw myself as a monster.

    Thanks to Kelly and Ms Clark.

    Focusing my thoughts back onto the present, I ran over my plans for tonight for what felt like the hundredth time. A paid gig required something special, so with Barb¡¯s blessing I¡¯d arrived early before opening to set up. The stage was set, the mic and speakers plugged in, a jug of milk with a glass at the ready and then of course, there was me.

    Here I was sitting up on the stage drawing in all the light and wrapping the stage in an unpierceable shadow, as I waited and people watched. The same shadow that was drawing the eyes of those entering.

    The patrons were the usual Limbo fare. You have the shadier types who were looking to make a deal, then you had the more grounded heroes, watching their so called villainous counterparts warily. Stuck in the middle as usual, was the greys and the unaligned. They kept to themselves, be they vigilantes or off duty rifters. Being Emerged was tough even before you factored in the good versus evil crap.

    With the bar now just about filled up and most of the gathered Emerged starting on their first drinks, I glanced over at Barb. There she was standing behind the bar, looking out over the bar with all the self assured confidence of a queen standing on her castle¡¯s walls and surveying her fiefdom.

    Satisfied with the numbers present, she stepped away from her glass polishing and walked out in front of the stage to greet everyone.

    ¡°Welcome you lot! Can I have your brief attention? I¡¯d like to introduce you all to a special girl tonight. Fresh onto the stage with a wonderful voice, her name is Wraith!¡± she bellowed, briefly quieting the room, ¡°She¡¯s going to be entertaining you all so that hopefully you don¡¯t end up breaking my expensive furniture!¡±

    ¡°What do you mean expensive? I¡¯ve seen better chairs laying on the side of the curb,¡± a rough looking patron jovially shouted.

    Barb replied with a stern glare silencing him, before letting loose a laugh like a crow¡¯s rasping caw, ¡°Where did you think I found them!? The real cost was hiring rifters to transport it all up here! Now shut your trap!¡±

    There was a healthy respect (or was it fear) when it came to Barb, a mystery for another day. Most immediately shut up, but a few awkwardly laughed, only to fall silent after realising their peril. Waiting for a moment to let the anticipation build and all the eyes to look towards the stage, I began tapping my heel to create the beat for my first song and banished the shadows revealing myself behind the mic as I sang the first note.

    To calm my nerves as I sang, I thought back over the past five days, and all the wild shit that had happened.

    * * *

    It had been a week since Kalia and I¡¯s surprise at finding out Ms Clark¡¯s survival and what a week it had been. Turns out Kalia didn¡¯t give me her number when we parted in the alleyway, instead I got confused, but intimidating, ¡°who¡¯s this?¡± before I revealed I was looking to talk to her. Turns out a cheeky little fox forgot to tell Nightbinder that she had given out her number or that the number was her girlfriends.

    Getting past that snag, we ended up meeting as we planned three times over the week. Once at Kalia¡¯s apartment and twice in Unbowed¡¯s bunker. Nightbinder, who I got to eventually know as Laithe, Redd and Unbowed each took turns joining us for the planning.

    Kalia definitely had a lot more realism to her ideas than Kelly¡¯s had back in prison, though with her powerset, they still ended up sounding mind boggling. Laithe helped keep her grounded as we planned things out, sometimes literally. Fox girls get the zoomies too apparently, and that¡¯s where ethereal chains come in handy. Along with Laithe, Unbowed and Redd would sometimes visit and offer something we had missed or not considered.

    Al seemed like an old hat at planning underhanded schemes, especially when it came to the sheer length, breadth and depth of detail he knew to focus on. Operation Saving Private Kelly was confirmed when Al brought us an important piece of intel.

    Handing both Kalia and I manilla envelopes, Al mentioned he had paid a spider a visit and gotten us both some real fake IDs? A spider? Real fake IDs? Typical¡­ After we got him to stop speaking in vague riddles we worked out what was going on.

    Al had paid a grey Emerged service provider called Spider a visit. Apparently they were an arachnid Emerged with technopathic abilities amongst other gifts, who served as a gray hat hacker and a purveyor of falsified identities that would pass any test and show up in the official databases. Ripping open my envelope I was greeted by the sight of a Californian birth certificate, social security and passport for an Ava Cameron Johnson. The passport¡¯s photo was a doctored picture of a spikeless me.

    The backup false identities weren¡¯t all he got out of Spider, he¡¯d paid a small sum for them to acquire the real blueprints and floor plans of the new Yelmorn tower straight from their own servers. We now knew there were labs and holding cells in the basement floors that weren¡¯t on the publicly available plans of the building. After that point the planning went ahead at full speed.

    It was during our first phone call Kalia let something incredible slip.

    I couldn¡¯t believe it, there was going to be an Emerged Festival in Penrith! It was a small grassroots organised by a number of local Emerged. They had somehow managed to wrangle a permit for the day of the twentieth of February at Innes Haley Park.

    After all the treatment and contempt I had gotten during my time in prison, I had come to believe people like me would never be free to celebrate and enjoy ourselves in the open. But Kalia convinced me it was the real deal in her usual sly excitable way. After two days of begging Al into submission, he agreed to take me. I didn¡¯t have much of a chance to practise it growing up, but I was getting better at making myself look pitiable and adorable in order to get my way.

    That or Al was proving especially susceptible, so far I¡¯d had no luck with Nel. My forehead still twinged with the memory of her flicking it when I tried to convince her to take me to New York for pizza and see the ongoing recovery effort dismantling the dragon¡¯s bones.

    Getting back to what I was saying. On the day Al woke me up, already dressed in casual pants, polo shirt and blazer, I was instructed to cover up my spikes and wear pants with my jacket. Just my luck, we were going to a festival for out and proud Emerged and I would probably be the only person who had to conceal myself. Being a wanted criminal sucked, I wish I had a secret identity.

    At least I got a cool mask out of it.

    While we were waiting for Nel to show up with a rift, Al acting like it was nothing special, presented me with a mask. He probably didn¡¯t even realise how special it was, it was probably just a tool for concealment to him, but to me it was possibly the most beautiful thing I had even been given.

    The mask was made out what felt like a lightweight black ceramic, that covered my whole face except for my eyes and mouth.

    The mask was sculpted into the guise of a bird with a sharp beak extending out from the center of my face, down the bridge of my nose and hiding my mouth in its shadow. Intricately carved feathers radiated out from around the eye holes growing larger as they stretched out towards the edges of the mask. Adorning the upper edges were several real feathers that seemed to emerge from the black ceramic and arch up like the world¡¯s longest eyelashes.

    Before he could see my joyful tear streaked cheeks, I buried my face in the mask and pulled the elastic tight around the back of my head.

    I wasn¡¯t long before the three of us, Al, Nel and myself, tore our way into the park. It was strange to be back where it all started. I could see the playground I had sheltered under in the distance and instead of pouring rain and darkness the park was filled with colourful tents and all manner of people. Emerged.

    A middle aged woman flanked by a pair of bodyguards as she negotiated the crowds, caught my attention. Dressed in a sharp business suit, her head seemed to swivel from side to side as she inspected the gathering Emerged like they were prime cuts of meat in a butcher¡¯s shop. A predatory smile spread from ear to ear as she spotted Al and cut through the celebrating masses to reach us.

    ¡°Alexander how are you? Did you also come to scout out the talent?¡± she called out in a high haughty tone. Did Al have any normal friends?

    ¡°I-¡± Al began to reply, before he was interrupted. As upon seeing me, Janet¡¯s eyes appeared to flash with curiosity and like a steamroller she continued to speak right over him.

    ¡°Oh¡­ What¡¯s this Alexander? Who do you have here? She¡¯s a little short for a bodyguard?¡± she joked, letting off an artificial trilling laugh. Huh? Oh, the black outfit. Ok Princess Leia...

    ¡°Janet, meet Songbird, in your words she is a talent I am sponsoring. Unfortunately we are trying to keep her lowkey for now. Songbird meet Janet Hughes, CEO of DRF International. Don¡¯t let her try to charm you or you¡¯ll find yourself caught up and crushed in her serpentine coils¡±

    Yup, note to self: do not trust the fake sounding corporate lady. Check. She sounds like she would buy me for a dollar and a stick of used gum, then sell me for a handful of Benjamins and she was currently eyeing me like she was evaluating how much value she could squeeze out of me.

    ¡°Oh Alexander you wound me. I was hoping there would be no hard feelings about our acquisition of the automotive company you sourced your trucks from. I mean we only increased the prices by fifty percent. No? Oh! This is about us hiring your ex-wife¡¯s lobbying firm,¡± she smirked viperishly.

    Al had an ex-wife. I¡¯d suspected he was divorced or a widower due to my snooping around, but this just confirmed it. It definitely sounded like they parted on less than happy terms.

    ¡°And I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t do that just out of spite because I refused to ship your goods let alone provide you a preferential shipping contract for your arms dealings to warlords and brutal regimes,¡± Al parried, this was turning into quite the verbal spar. Is this how rich people fight? Polite language and manners, masking veiled insults and barbs.

    ¡°It¡¯s just business. Now I must introduce you to my newest talent, a personal project if you will. You know I couldn¡¯t let Yelmorn have all the fun or grab all the good PR,¡± she said in delight at the prospect of one upping a rival.

    Without even giving us a chance to refuse, Janet again plowed through the crowds, dragging us along in her wake as she sought out her pet to show off. Did she feel the need to compete after seeing that Al had me beside him? Was this the posturing of a powerful woman with an inferiority complex?

    Arriving at a temporary open air cafe and weaving our way around the little white picket fence they had set up, we followed Janet to a picnic table occupied by a group of three leaning over the table as they engaged in animated conversation. The topic seemed to be a piece of paper in the middle of the table. Was that a kid¡¯s drawing of a dog?

    The first of the three was a flustered cat girl with black hair, ears and tail and who was trying to hide her face in her hands. The next person going clockwise was a tall and lanky guy who seemed to the poster image of a nerd. The third person was a bubbly dark haired girl with glasses who seemed to be teasing the blushing catgirl even as she appeared to be struggling to hold herself back from patting her.

    ¡°I hope I am not interrupting your day off, Maya?¡± Janet asked in a voice that seemed to carry a hidden threat of what would happen if she dared to not cooperate with her lord and master.

    ¡°Ms Hughes!¡± the catgirl exclaimed, jumping to her feet and not landing, as she hovered a few inches above the grass.

    ¡°Maybe you don¡¯t recognize her without her hero suit Alexander, but this is Bastet. She the one who just stopped that terrible villain Perses the other day. Surely you must have seen the press release? It got bumped to the front page after her valiant heroics. Funded, trained and backed by the DRF,¡± Mrs Hughes bragged before turning the concept of an introduction into a weapon, ¡°Maya, This is Alexander Spencer the CEO of Spencer Shipping, I doubt you¡¯ve heard of them.¡±

    The penny dropped.

    Spencer Shipping was almost a household name in Penrith having built much of the city¡¯s transport infrastructure since almost it¡¯s beginning. I don¡¯t know how it had taken me so long to work this one out, since I had seen Alexander Spencer in his suits on the news several times growing up.

    ¡°Uhhh, nice to meet you Al. Ummm, Ms. Hughes I thought we were going to keep the hero thing on the down low?¡± she anxiously half whispered.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I am sure Mr Spencer has more important things to do than reveal the identity of our mascot,¡± Janet replied in an irritated no nonsense tone.

    Al once again proving my trust in him was well placed, gave Maya a warm smile and proceeded to try to undo the damage her battered ego had just received.

    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you Maya. I¡¯m sure everyone will have praise for you, as you will continue to defend this city,¡± he complimented sounding both sincere and blasting her with his dadley energies.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Blushing, she quickly looked away from him, like she had accidentally stared into the sun. And spotted me. Thanks to her hovering, she was able to curiously peer down at me from above despite being several inches shorter. Following her gaze the entire group appeared to now be looking my way. Eeep!

    Grr¡­ Damn cat, someone should warn her about the dangers of curiosity.

    ¡°Uh hi? I¡¯m Maya, nice to meet you. What¡¯s your name?¡± she asked, in a gentle tone as if talking to a small flighty animal or shy child. Hey! I¡¯m not that young!

    Still¡­ This was Bastet, I had been following her online since her recent appearance and there weren¡¯t that many animal type Emerged that had ended up as heroes so far.

    ¡°Ah! Im Ro- ...I¡¯m Songbird, Al is looking after me. Are you really Bastet? Ah wait! Sorry, I won¡¯t tell anyone! I saw that picture on a news-site, your costume looked really cool!¡±

    ¡°Songbird¡­ The mask suits you. Ok, I am Bastet, but you can¡¯t tell anyone! Please,¡± she complimented, before stressing and stretching out the word ¡®please¡¯.

    ¡°Well¡­ I guess I could if¡­ I wouldn¡¯t happen to be able to¡­ uh¡­ get your autograph,¡± I bartered with a nervous giggle.

    Whoops. That knocked her back into a flustered blushy state worse than when we had arrived. I wasn¡¯t sure if she was embarrassed by the attention or flattered to the point of being overwhelmed.

    Peeking up from where she had again buried her face in her hands, she slowly nodded without meeting my eyes, a smile barely cresting over the tips of her fingers.

    ¡°Al, do you have any paper and a pen I could please borrow?¡± I asked, glancing up at Al.

    ¡°Sorry Dear, I¡¯m travelling light today. Only paper I have on me is a few business cards,¡± he apologised, miming turning out his pockets. Dear? I guess it was better than sweetheart or pumpkin.

    Snapping her fingers, Janet had her bodyguards leaping to provide Maya a fountain pen and a sheet of snow white paper embossed with a DRF letterhead at their mistresses behest.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry Alexander, I have this covered. It is great to see our Bastet already has young fans. Little Bird make sure you buy the official Bastet merchandise that DRF has planned, the release is next month!¡± Janet said, before launching into a marketing pitch as if she smelt blood in the water.

    While her boss had us distracted, an embarrassed Maya capitalised on the decoy and signed the paper ¡®Bastet¡¯ giving the ¡®B¡¯ cat ears and a tail. Glancing at the signed paper she passed me. I could only think that Janet and DRF had signed the signature and had put the poor catgirl through training till she had mastered it.

    Seeing that the signing was done, Al wrapped an arm around my back and started steering us away from Janet and her bodyguards.

    ¡°Ah well¡­. If you would please excuse us Janet, I promised to chaperone Songbird around the festival. Was nice seeing you and a pleasure meeting you Miss Maya,¡± Al hurriedly said as he looked over his shoulder to say goodbye and make good our escape.

    Finally free to actually enjoy the festival, we aimlessly wandered about taking in all the sights. A number of Emerged were showcasing their abilities as entertainment.

    One Emerged with pyrokinetic abilities was drawing crowds by putting on a show of juggling flaming torches, breathing fire and making the flames dance, performing complex maneuvers in the air above our heads.

    Another with the ability to control water was crafting little statues of festival goers out of water, before freezing it by dipping it into a tank of liquid nitrogen. Then over off to the side on a temporary stage, a shapeshifter was putting on a one person performance of Macbeth.

    It was a different display of power that caught my attention. A guy who looked the very image of a lumberjack with his bushy beard, checkered shirt, beanie and boots, was using his powers to fly into the air carrying a single passenger at a time.

    Grabbing Al¡¯s sleeve, I began pulling him in the Lumberjacks direction, ¡°Al! Al! Can I take a flight!? Please!¡± I begged.

    ¡°Fiiiine,¡± he sighs, ¡°Just make sure you say please and thank him when it¡¯s over.¡±

    After a short wait I got to have my turn and moments later, we were rocketing through a lazy cloud that was drifting overhead. Fuck, I always imagined them as warm and fluffy, not cold and wet. Unable to soak into Tinker-made clothes, the water droplets that had condensed on me were whisked away as quickly as they formed by the wind as we sped through the sky. Powered flight felt more like the aerodynamics of a rocket than any bird or plane.

    I was a bit wobbly on my feet when we returned to the ground, but the adrenaline rush was incredible and I was hooked. Making sure to thank him, I wandered around on legs of jelly as I tried to find Al.

    I found him coming back from the food stands, carrying a stick of cotton candy that had been spun into the shape of a butterfly.

    ¡°Is that¡­ for me?¡± I asked in awe of this delicious looking work of art. It almost looked like it would be a crime to eat it, but alas I must obey the food chain and birds eat bugs.

    Smiling, he handed it over, ¡°I thought you might be getting a little hungry.¡±

    ¡°Oh my god! Thanks Al!¡± I almost squealed before barrelling into him and giving him my best one armed hug.

    As we continued to wander, I slowly fed the cotton candy under the beak of my mask and into my mouth, taking care not to get the spun sugar in any of the feathers. I was probably an amusing sight, given how focused I was on eating this. My head bobbing as I took small bites, like I was pecking at it.

    ¡°Alexander what are you doing here?¡± a golden blonde haired, college-aged beauty with brilliant blue eyes demanded, spotting him. I swear she looked familiar, but I couldn''t place how or why.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a gay pride parade and who¡¯s the girl? I¡¯d say she¡¯s too young for you, but she isn¡¯t your type unless there is actually a boy under all those layers and that mask,¡± she jeered. Al is gay or is this just baseless insults? I mean¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be surprised, but like, so what? He¡¯s gay big deal. He¡¯s been nicer to me than almost anyone else.

    ¡°Lizzy¡­ Please¡­ Let¡¯s not make a scene here. You can call her Songbird, the family company is sponsoring her. Songbird, this is Lizzy, I mean Elizabeth my daughter¡­¡± Al pleaded, wearing a pained expression, before making introductions.

    This was his daughter? I can just make out the resemblance, maybe that¡¯s why she seems familiar. She was the baby from the photo? I guess her brown hair had gone blonde as she grew up or she dyed it. Or¡­ or maybe since she is here, it changed when she Emerged.

    ¡°Ah¡­ umm, nice to meet you, Elizabeth,¡± I greeted, anxiously offering the bitch a hand to shake.

    ¡°Pleasure,¡± she grimaced, not even trying to hide her contempt as she ignored my outstretched hand. You BITCH! Spoiled princess! I¡¯d like to see how she¡¯d handle being in an orphanage or prison, probably has never worked a day in her life! I hope every server or waitstaff she ever encounters spit in her food.

    ¡°Lizzy can¡¯t you try to be nice? Songbird here hasn¡¯t had an easy time of things and does not deserve to have your anger at me, directed at her. I didn¡¯t raise you to-,¡± Al chided, trying to reason with her before he was cut off.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t raise me, Mum and I left you when I was six! You had to let your sinful vice tear our family apart! Enjoy fucking guys and taking in vagrants, I¡¯m sure it totally makes up for the family you lost,¡± Elizabeth angrily spat. Her eyes almost seemed to flash gold, before she stormed off into the crowd leaving me awkwardly standing beside a crestfallen Al.

    Giving Al a comforting hug, I was thinking this probably couldn¡¯t get any worse. Of course I was wrong. What do you think this is going to be a happy story?

    We had prearranged to meet Kalia and Laithe on the farside of the festival at three o¡¯clock. As it was already ten to, I started to make my way there dragging a dazed Al behind me. As we drew near, it became clear that a commotion was building on the other side of the festival where the park met the road. Right where we were to meet.

    An angry mass of people had formed before the road and increasingly aggressive shouting match could be heard all the way back where we were standing. Unfortunately at my unremarkable height of 5¡¯8¡±, I couldn''t see over the crowds to work out what was going on.

    Seeing me struggling to see above the crowd Al discretely manifested a chair out of thin air. Ok I did not know he could do that¡­ Well, up I go.

    That¡¯s better. I could now see over the people in front of me and quickly spotted the source of the commotion. Standing on the road facing the park was a mob made up of a mishmash of chanting and braying people, ranging from a sprinkling of skinny teens wearing meme branded clothes, dorkish pollo wearing adults wielding lit lawn torches to a majority individuals who had come armed and dressed in fake military garb.

    That last group looked like they were waiting for a fight to break out. There was no consistency in how they had armed themselves. A small minority had taken a DIY approach and came carrying sticks of dole, garbage can lids, assorted sporting equipment and cosplay armor. But the rest? They were more seriously armed having taken the paramilitary approach wielding rifles and kitted out with the best of their local army depot shops.

    And they had no shortage of flags, more than one Nazi flag flew over the mob, along with Odinist, Confederate, Thin blue line, Stars and Stripes and even a lone green kekistani flag.

    If you had thought that was enough of an insult, a line of police formed themselves into an outward facing protective box around the mob.

    Though I couldn¡¯t make out the words being shouted, what this was about was clear. A hate mob had arrived under the guise of lawful protest to threaten and intimidate. After what I had seen since the Emergence I doubted they realised the hole they were digging themselves.

    A flash of gold and white feathers shot out of the crowd and placed itself between the two groups as if trying to protect the mob from the fury they had provoked. Even at this distance I recognised Seraph.

    An argument broke out between the festival goers and Seraph. Straining to hear what was being said, I leant forward only for a hand to grab the back of my jacket, pulling me back and a reproachful look from Al. Ok got the message. Leaning forward while standing on a chair is dangerous. Jeez Dad¡­

    What happened next was a blur of activity. A succession of rapid loud snapping sounds shattered the air. A flash of orange and green knocked Seraph to the ground. A growling red furred figure wielding a bottle dived into the mobs ranks. I was pulled backwards and off the chair by Al¡¯s hand.

    Was that gunfire?...

    Next I felt my arm almost being pulled off as Al dragged me away from the erupting riot. More gunfire could be heard behind us, as well as the roar of the clashing crowds. His cellphone was already dialing as he swept it up to his face.

    Raising his voice to be heard over the noise of battle, Al issued brisk orders, ¡°Nel. We need an Evac, situation hot, meet at Pioneer¡¯s statue asap!¡±

    We weren¡¯t alone in fleeing, numerous others had begun running at the first sound of gunfire and it seemed to be escalating as distant sirens drew closer. Hero first responders were appearing suspiciously fast, having probably switched from their civilian outfits into their uniforms.

    Innes Haley Park was huge, almost as big as some suburbs even if it had nothing on Central Park in New York City and it was several minutes before we reached the rendezvous point. By that time we had the safety of distance (or so I thought) and the sounds of the commotion were mostly distant even if they were still spreading.

    Al was looking as anxious as I¡¯d ever seen him, constantly looking down at me and then up at our surroundings. Even Nel was looking jittery as she tore reality open with her fingers. Nearby a tree shook slightly and splinters of wood and leaves fell to the ground. Seconds later I had the alarming realisation that a stray bullet had just struck that tree.

    My inspection of the tree was broken when Al nudged me towards the portal, always keeping his body between myself and where the riot had started. I did as he bid and allowed myself to be pushed through the portal, which Nel closed as soon as Al and I were through. We all sighed in relief as the tension left us. Safe.

    Aside for a few meetings for the plan, the next few days in the bunker were mostly subdued. Al seemed to be walking about in a cloud of depression. Our run in with Elizabeth had hit him hard. But that wasn¡¯t the only change, he had been increasingly protective before the festival, but the riot had raised it to a whole new level.

    Normally when I had noticed my foster parents were upset, I had gone to great lengths to hide and avoid the potential fallout that was always present on the horizon. Normal had gone out the window several months ago.

    Instead I found myself fretting about how I could lift Al out of his funk and cheer him up.

    Remembering how enthusiastic he always was during our cooking lessons, I seized on an idea for a plan. Telling him to cancel our normal dinner, I informed him of my plans to cook which roused a glimmer of interest. It was barely past noon when I started dinner prep. Raiding the pantries and fridges, I began peeling and cutting root vegetables. With that done I moved on to preparing the huge leg of lamb I¡¯d found, cutting shallow lines in the surface and rubbing it with oil and herbs. Rosemary and garlic mostly.

    Having already preheated the oven to a low heat, I covered the tray of meat and veg, slid it inside and consulted the recipe to calculate the cooking time by weight. Five hours. That would give me plenty of time to let it rest and prepare everything else before it was time to eat.

    Setting the timer, I wandered off for a nap and to dream of tender slow cooked lamb.

    Just under a few hours later, the smell of smoke drew me back to the kitchen. I was met with the sight of thin tendrils of smoke escaping the closed oven. I opened the oven door.

    It was a disaster¡­

    When the smoke cleared I found a rock of lamb, sitting amongst charcoal. Somehow, please don¡¯t ask me how, I had also turned on the ovens microwave function when I set the oven to cook. This wasn¡¯t slow cooked lamb, this was stone hard lamb crackling. I¡¯d petrified the lamb.

    Nel agreed to help, once she stopped rolling on the floor laughing at me. ¡°Cute,¡± she gasped between suffocating bouts of hysterical laughter.

    That night Al and I sat down at his fancy dining table with fancy plates and fancy cutlery¡­ And ate Mcdonalds¡­

    I¡¯m not even sure if the fact he didn¡¯t laugh was worth the amused look of pity he gave me.

    * * *

    I¡¯d been singing on and off now for two hours and my nerves had long since calmed to the point I could scan the crowd, even looking individual people in the face, unaffected by the room full of eyes boring into me.

    Being the center of attention wasn¡¯t something I was used to. Nor something I had even wanted, but since my changes and once I broke past my anxieties, I thrived on it.

    Now that I could stare back at the crowd as I sang, I noticed something. Most people were watching the whole time, many were absorbed in their drinks and quietly talking to their friends as they enjoyed the entertainment.

    Most except two. I had noticed two in the crowd that were intently watching my performance with thoughtful expressions. I couldn¡¯t help but think they were evaluating me for some purpose I knew not. One was a sharp looking suit with a briefcase and a professional¡¯s Hollywood haircut. The other was a black furred fox girl with short black hair cut into a flattering pixie cut. Moving my attention to her clothing, I saw she was dressed in high heeled knee length leather boots, tight leather pants, a distressed tank top and a leather jacket that finished above her waist.

    I was already jokingly calling her Shadow Kalia in my head.

    This time I was allowed to finish up an hour prior to closing and wind down. I half suspect Al had talked to her considering I barely made it back to my bed last time before I passed out. Sweeping up my tips for the night and stuffing them into my jacket pockets, I wove my way through the bar to where Al and Barb had been talking.

    Only to find the suit was already deep in conversation with the pair. Cut off mid sentence Al stepped forward to meet me and enthusiastically grabbed me under my arms, lifting me into the air! Holy shit! Al what¡¯s come over you? Ah what the heck¡­ Weeeeee!

    ¡°You did great tonight Robin, you brought the house down. Hope you¡¯re not too tired after that strong performance dear, because I want to introduce you to someone. Songbird meet Lachlan Porter, codename Libera. My lawyer,¡± he gushed, before setting my back down. Awww¡­ Again¡­ I held back a pout.

    ¡°Pleasure to meet you Songbird, that was a gripping performance. If you are willing, I was hoping to have a few words in private. Barb has agreed to allow us to use her storeroom, you can of course bring your guardian Al here with you,¡± the suit, Lachlan said barely pausing between words.

    Should I accept and follow him? Not able to see any obvious drawbacks or threats, I threw Al a look of uncertainty, to which he nodded.

    ¡°I guess I can talk with you¡­ Lead the way and we¡¯ll follow,¡± I replied, agreeing to his request.

    The storeroom was little different to the rest of the speakeasy, with its red brick and exposed eaves. Where its differences started was a thick layer of dust, disturbed only by the back and forth of footprints, the furrows from where the many kegs were rolled out into the main room and razor like cuts that I suspected were from the opening of portals used for deliveries.

    That and the blackened marks of fire damage in one corner where the flames that had gutted the floor below had managed to reach up and lick the aged wood and brick.

    ¡°Ok look, Robin. Can I call you Robin? Yes? Ok. Robin I would like to offer you my services as an agent extraordinaire. Your guardian there, Al can already attest to my talents as a lawyer, but that is only one part of the amazing package I am offering you. Finance, public relations, marketing, banking, litigation, counter litigation and criminal defence to start with, then there is my ¡®be there in five minutes¡¯ guarantee. As your representative and a teleporter I promise to arrive on the scene within five minutes of your call in any sort of emergency as long as you are in North America. I¡¯ve represented plenty of rookie artists and raised them to the big leagues. You heard of Cement Butterflies? Of course you¡¯ve heard of them. I¡¯m the one that discovered them here in Penrith and got them an album deal and tours across America. All I ask as your agent is for ten percent of any earnings you make from gigs, albums, tours, merchandise, advertising agreements and sponsorships. Look Robin this is the best offer you¡¯ll ever get. I dare ya to try and find representation with better perks than me. So whatcha say?¡± he said unleashing his spiel on me.

    Again I received another reassuring nod when I glanced at Al. Holding up a hand, I brusquely asked everyone to fucking pause for a moment and let me think.

    The guy was Al¡¯s lawyer¡­ This better not be Al trying to help me by bribing his lawyer to be my agent. I refuse to let my hard work be stolen away like this if that¡¯s the case.

    Turning to face Al, I gave him my best piercing look, ¡°Al, promise me this is real and you aren¡¯t using your wallet to pull strings. Please.¡±

    A momentary look of confusion enveloped Al¡¯s face and I could tell he was frowning under Unbowed¡¯s helmet, then slowly the corners of his mouth began to twitch upwards in a repressed smile.

    ¡°Ok I admit I got him to come here tonight, but I only asked for him to watch and tell me what he thought. You can blame Barb, she put me up to it. The offer? That is all Lachlan and yes he is always like that,¡± Al replied earnestly, I could sense he was being sincere.

    Laughing, I offered a hand for Lachlan to shake, ¡°What the heck, where do I sign?¡±

 Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage & into, Chapter 16: Blackout

    <h2>Chapter 16: Blackout</h2>

    Three days out from the grand opening of the new Yelmorn building, our deadline was rushing towards us with all the fatal inevitability of an incoming train. In a typical fit of Al¡¯s pseudo-parental anxiety, he had twisted our arms into calling another final meeting to finalize the plan and iron out any snags.

    So here we were, all six of us. Kalia, Laithe, Redd, Nel and I all draped in various modes of ¡°sitting¡± on Al¡¯s bunker¡¯s expensive leather upholstered lounges and armchairs, while he glared through his mask disapprovingly. He had surrendered the point of making us sit properly and tried to content himself with his earlier successes on the front of getting us to use coasters for our drinks.

    Al was such a dork, wearing his helm while dressed in an open collared shirts, jeans and loafers.

    ¡°Are you even sure the superteam won¡¯t have moved in yet?¡± Redd asked, before hiding behind a bottle of beer she had pilfered from Al¡¯s fridge.

    ¡°Yeah the superhero grapevine says they aren¡¯t in yet. The people I talk to are pretty reliable,¡± Laithe replied as she lounged casually against Kalia. Those two were almost inseparable and blatantly not shy about displays of affection in front of us.

    ¡°Yeah well while you do all your parts, I¡¯ll be doing the real work¡­¡± she paused, taking a swig from her drink, ¡°I¡¯ll be trying my best to keep as many preoccupied at Limbo. Been putting out word that we are doing a drinking contest there, buy in is twenty bucks and winner takes the pot. Can¡¯t wait for a dozen lightweights who think their powers will give them an edge, to show up. It¡¯s all about practise and technique.¡±

    The wolf girl flexed.

    Nel smirked, ¡°I¡¯d love to humiliate you by showing everyone how a tiny irish girl can drink you under the table, but I¡¯m on transport and will be stuck waiting in the cold at our rendezvous point.¡±

    I wanted to see that. Mainly to work out if she was pulling a fast one on them.

    ¡°Children! Please! Let''s stick to the topic and make sure everyone is one hundred percent on the plan. Next up is Robin, I don¡¯t agree with her part but at least it keeps her safely away from the tower,¡± an exhausted Al said, wrestling the topic back. I giggled at Redd and Nel being reprimanded until D- Al fixed me a stern look.

    ¡°Umm so I need to break into the substation on two hundred and sixty two South Street, then overload the Yelmorn line and take out the substation¡­ Why can¡¯t I be a part of the tower raid? Kelly is my friend! You really expect me to let you to rescue Kelly and cause mayhem in Yelmorn, while I¡¯m off knocking out the power? I promised her!¡±

    Gently extracting herself from her girlfriend¡¯s arms, Kalia moved over to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. ¡°Hey shhh it¡¯s about getting her out of there, not the glory or whatever. I¡¯ll make sure she¡¯s safe no matter what yeah? Plus no one else can do the job you¡¯ll be doing, and you can always come help at the tower afterwards.¡±

    Watching the tip of Kalia¡¯s tail flick up and down, where she had laid in her lap, I nodded. It was sort of soothing. ¡°I guess¡­ I just hope she is actually there¡­ If she is I want to be there.¡±

    ¡°Can I at least say I would worry less, if you were not in the thick of the action and somewhere where you can at least run away if things get too hot?¡± Al professed hopefully.

    I appreciate that everyone cares about my safety but I was getting tired of being the kid in the group that everyone had to mollycoddle and protect. I¡¯m tougher than I look!

    ¡°I¡¯m sick of being a bird in a cage to protect! My friends need me.¡±

    Taking a knee to bring himself down to my level, I found myself looking at Al¡¯s sympathetic face, ¡°I know Robin and hopefully if everything goes well you¡¯ll be able to walk free again. I¡¯d take you with me while I infiltrate the top floors and gather as much intel and evidence as I can, but I know that is not where you want to be.¡±

    ¡°I know, it sucks! I know Kalia and Laithe have the most dangerous job in this and I know they have more experience, but it doesn¡¯t change how it feels¡± I said pouting.

    ¡°I mean, you¡¯ll have a hundred or so kilovolts of electricity to play with, that sounds pretty fuckin¡¯ dangerous to me,¡± Laithe said with a grin and a wink. Al¡¯s head whipped around to glare at her, Ok I like her, Laithe is definitely not a stick in the butt hero. I wonder if she wants a sidekick, as I don¡¯t have to wear a goth costume like her, it¡¯d be pretty cool.

    Changing the subject, Kalia said, ¡°So with our super dangerous job. The elevator down to the basement levels is hidden on the tenth floor, but we have to go in through the 5th because there aren¡¯t any windows on the four floors above and below the tenth right? We don¡¯t want to go in where there might be legions of hired goons?¡±

    ¡°Goon?¡± Redd looked up from her drink, ¡±Isn¡¯t goon what you down under types call wine? Besides an all out brawl sounds like it could be stress relieving.¡±

    ¡°Ok so it is settled,¡± Al said cutting off Redd, ¡°Nel is transport and getaway, Robin is taking out the power and security systems, Kalia and Laithe are on wreck and rescue and I¡¯ll be keeping a low profile this time and gathering as much hard evidence as I can that implicates those at the top,¡± Al summarized, wrapping things up.

    * * *

    The substation sat on a fenced lot nestled between the bases of four skyscrapers and out of sight from the city streets down a long access alley. Behind the razor wire topped chain link fence that surrounded the facility, was a red brick warehouse designed to shield the city from the substation¡¯s noise and shelter the transformers from the elements.

    Darting down the alley, I took the cover of the shadows with me, wrapping it around myself like a cloak of concealment. A puddle of slush from snow on salted asphalt, squelched underfoot, splashing up and soaking the black jeans I was wearing with cold muddy water. Yuck. I guess I¡¯m off to a good start.

    Now at the end of the alleyway, the fence¡¯s padlocked gate barred my way. Beyond it there was only just barely enough room for municipal vehicles to park when visiting the site.The steel chain holding the fence gate closed made little work for my glassy sword as I cut through it. Making sure to grab it before it fell, I lowered the chain soundlessly to the ground. Letting the gate swing open just enough to let my slender frame slip though, I pushed my way through the gap and closed it again.

    It wasn¡¯t enough to assume everyone walking through the city at night would mind their business and hope anyone who noticed the gate open late at night would not call the police. Plus knowing my luck in life, it would be a hero who noticed it first and decided to investigate.

    The warehouse doors gave me more trouble than the fence. Strong industrial doors with internal locks that had probably been fitted decades after the warehouse was built. I was half tempted to blast my way through, but that would defeat the purpose of avoiding notice. Thankfully before I could do something loud and flashy, I noticed the crumbling cement around the doors metal frame where they had retrofitted it.

    I again visualised my sword and moments later, I could feel in my hand the sword¡¯s cold, slick, comforting presence. Cement crumbled away like stale bread as I scraped and chipped at it with the swords tip, loosening the walls grip on the doorframe. The last of the cement gave way with a quiet but sharp crack, followed by a growing squealing creak as the metal door, frame and all, began to fall out in my direction.

    Fuck! I knew I was forgetting something, I thought as I braced myself and tried to catch the door.

    THUD!

    Muddy slush soaked into the back of my jeans, hoodie and hair as lay on the cold ground beneath the heavy door. I want to go home. Uggggggh! Dammit! Kelly be glad you¡¯re worth it¡­ You better be glad to see me after this¡­

    After the hardest pushup in my life, I lifted the door from me, rolled out from under it, soaking the rest of me. With help from the steelcapped tip of my boot, I prevented the door from impacting the ground and ringing out. Moments later with the door safely and quietly on the ground, I crawled through the doorway and flopped down onto the drier concrete ground as I caught my breath.

    Bathed in the orange glow of floodlights that hung from the warehouse¡¯s high ceiling, the transformers cast long shadows that flicked on the walls creating an illusion of movement in this cathedral of machinery.

    No rest for the wicked, the others would be waiting for my part. I dragged myself back to my feet with a whimper at my protesting and bruised muscles. At least with an open buffet like this place, I would heal quickly.

    This substation transformed the main transmission power to usable and more economic voltages for the surrounding city blocks, which included the new Yelmorn building. It wouldn¡¯t be much work to damage each of the transformers and cause a blackout to the area this substation services. All I would have to do is pierce the transformers and allow the oils used to provide the resistance to the current that would greatly lower the voltage, to drain out.

    Simple.

    Well aside from the fact that the new Yelmorn building had backup generators it would switch to in such a blackout, to power its lights and security systems.

    Kalia had a more effective, complex and dangerous idea of how to deal with Yelmorn¡¯s electricity using my powers. I can¡¯t say Al was happy, but considering he was unable to come up with a better idea, his veto was outvoted.

    Kalia¡¯s plan was for me to draw in as much of the substation¡¯s power as I could without going into overload and then dumping it all back into the system aimed at Yelmorn¡¯s lines as my own signature shadow energy. She hoped it would not only damage the substation and cause that black out anyway, but also fry all that newly laid electricals in the tower rending the generators useless.

    My thoughts on this? It sounds insane and I am both terrified and excited to try it. I mean I could overload myself and end up in another energy drain state or worse, but it could be really really cool. I mean I had tried drawing 120 volt power before during training and it was like adrenaline, but this was something like a hundred kilo-volts or something. I¡¯ll admit to not remembering exact numbers and I was shivering with excitement at the thought of trying to draw in all that power.

    It wouldn¡¯t do at all to keep them all waiting any longer, it was time to start. Showtime. The notes Kalia had provided me were at this point, sodden, ink starting to run and falling apart in my hands as I unfolded and read it, but I managed to find the distribution lines that led to Yelmorn¡¯s tower by the serial numbers.

    ¡°There it is, just gotta grab the extremely high voltage wires take as much as I can, then walk over and dump it into the distribution line. Oh! More importantly not die¡­ This will be fun. Well¡­ Here goes nothing¡­¡± I muttered as I walked back to the transformer and ignoring all the signage, placed the back of both hands on the transmission wires.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    My blood was fire. It was ice. It was the very energies of creation. I could feel a raging storm growing within me. Rivers breaking their banks, pouring over the top of dams. The painful bruises I had just acquired were already a distant memory, my limbs felt ready to snap into action like a drawn bow being released, like a railgun being fired.

    One second¡­

    The energy wanted to be used, it chafed at being held and contained. It wanted to be channeled and set free. In my hands I could do anything. I could level Yelmorn and rescue Kelly single handedly. I could destroy any and everyone who had or would harm us. Put fear into anyone else. I wanted more of it. I needed more of it!

    Two seconds¡­

    I was riding a tsunami of energy. With this much power I could be a god! Tumultuous and as destructive as a natural disaster! I could tear down the structures that harm people. I could build something better in its place. Justice for those who would use power to harm those different, those who would hoard wealth, food, shelter or health.

    Three seconds¡­

    Something wet trickled down my face and neck. Removing a hand from the wire, I used it to feel and wipe away the liquid. A few cursory touches told me it was coming from nose, ears and eyes. I tried to draw breath and felt like I was drowning. A hacking cough bent me over. With my hand I covered my mouth, it came away wet and red.

    Robin, you must let go! Release it before it destroys you! We can¡¯t protect you much longer...

    Fuck¡­ The voices were right. Voices? I thought I was alone. The short distance to the distribution line seemed like a marathon away. Each step on the way was more like a drunken stumble, as my vision swam and the ground lurched beneath my feet. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot¡­

    Stumbling across an imagined finishing line at the end of my marathon I latched onto the distribution line with all the desperation and relief of grabbing a lifeline.

    Into that line I poured every last joule I could of the electricity I had absorbed as shadow energy. I was like a dam that had cracked, the weight and force of the water breaking free and pouring out in a destructive wave. I attempted to direct that wave, attempted to will it to flow down the line and burn out everything in its path.

    I was mostly successful too, but not all of it went where I wanted and the backflow was tearing the machinery of the substation apart in bursts of shadow turned black lightning.

    Energy spent, I collapsed onto the hard floor and let the comforting darkness take me.

    * * *

    I woke coughing on smoke, my nose filled with the smell of ozone mixed with burning oil and my mouth tasted like I had been sucking on coins. The splitting headache I¡¯d awoken with was a poignant reminder and souvenir of my earlier almost deadly brush with insanity. Next time someone asked for me to take in a hundred kilo volts of electricity, I¡¯d make sure to kindly ask them to go first, I have no aspirations to play Icarus twice

    Am I still loopy from the power?

    Probably yes considering how I was thinking to myself, laying on the ground as the substation burned around me. Good way to get tossed back in that cell by heroes, if the fire or smoke doesn''t kill me first. Well it could also be the smoke¡­

    Time for me to move.

    One. Two. Three.

    Groaning loudly in protest, I rolled over and heaved myself into a crawling position and began my journey, keeping low, below the smoke and along the concrete to the entrance. Once I¡¯m out I can surrender if anyone is there or find safer spot to collapse.

    The reward of cold, fresh night air greeted me as I pulled myself outside and over the fallen security door. Now away from the crackle of the fire and the noise dampening smoke, I could hear the whine of sirens coming my way. Well, I guess this can also serve as a distraction for the raid.

    Without the acridic smoke to choke on, I could feel the residual power healing my abused body. A few deep breaths later and feeling substantially better, I wrapped myself in shadows and made my escape back through the alleyway I came.

    My part in the plan was now done, but hell if I wasn¡¯t going to try and make it to the tower and Kelly first. I owed Kelly too much.

    Darting down the blacked out streets, I couldn¡¯t help but think back to the night I emerged and the helplessness I felt in the face of the unfolding chaos. I might not be a powerful superhero or villain, but I was anything but helpless now.

    Also unlike that first night, there was a sort of quiet that even the approaching sirens didn¡¯t seem able to fill.

    And tonight I was going to prove it by rescuing Kelly and putting the hurt into those who¡¯d put us through hell.

    Ahead the Yelmorn¡¯s helix wrapped spire of glass and steel rose above the city skyline, sparkling from the reflected light of the still lit building beyond the blackout.

    Coming up on the tower¡¯s front plaza, I found the mangled remains of construction fencing strewn about as if a tornado had passed through. My friends had already been here.

    Even here at the tower the silence was unbroken. I had to wonder if Kalia and co had already come and gone both unnoticed and unopposed. My phone hadn¡¯t made it out of the substation intact and my sense of time was off, I¡¯d spent who knows how long unconscious on the ground and blacked out streets at night didn¡¯t help.

    Do I go inside and try to find if they are still here? Wait outside? Head back to the meeting point as planned? Al is probably going to give me an earful for deviating from the plan, maybe even Kalia and Nel too.

    I mean they both had a flair for subverting authority and playing tricks, but they also had a lot more experience than me at this. Kalia had committed how many successful heists since she had emerged? How many heroes had she tricked or beaten? And even though Nel wasn¡¯t directly taking part in our raid, she¡¯s waiting for us at the meeting point, probably worried since I hadn¡¯t returned yet.

    I was pacing. Pacing out the dimensions of my former cell, lost in thought. A bad habit. One I had picked up during my time incarcerated.

    The splitting crash of glass shattering and raining down on pavement ended both the silence and my pacing. Head jerking up to find the source of the sound, I caught glimpses of a shining blur of gold and white arced out of a broken window above me, before plummeting. At the last moment the blur, flared its six wings slowing its fall. Hitting the ground rolling and coming to a rest only meters from where I stood the ball of armor and feathers, untangled itself and stood, revealing an enraged Seraph.

    ¡°YOU!¡± she accused, spotting me, ¡°Unbowed¡¯s little lackey, you did well staying beneath my notice in the time since your prison break, but it seems you have fallen in with that dangerous thief Vulptrix. There will be time to regret your actions once I return you to finish your sentence.¡±

    ¡°Who-,¡± my attempt at ignorance was cut short by a golden blade flashing past my throat, thankfully stumbling backwards just fast enough to avoid it¡¯s tender caress.

    Rude!

    Seraph held out her sword, the tip threateningly pointed at my chest, ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear your excuses, surrender so I can get back to chasing Vulptrix. Or else!¡± she demanded.

    Materialising my sword just in time, black blade met gold blade as I managed to block a second blow that came from overhead. Jarring pain travelled down the length of my arm. Spitting out a stream of swears, I was now doubting I had this sword thing down yet.

    Seraph however had no such worries and with practised control she leapt forwards, unleashing a horizontal slash aimed at opening up my guts. My sword swept down to meet it barely in time, but the burning in my side from her blades shallow bite put that barely to doubt. Fuck.

    ¡°Are you trying to kill me? What kind of hero are you!¡± I screamed out in pain.

    Blindly swinging my blade to create room, I danced backwards and unleashed a blast of shadows barely pausing to aim. Paving stones exploded into a cloud of dust and shards of stone at her feet. I continued to back away as an even angrier Seraph charged through the debris, blood trickling down her cheek where a sharp rock had caught her.

    Well... Charged through the dust right into another blast I had loosed at her face. Who said anything about playing fair? Halting, golden blade flashed up in time to deflect the ball of shadows of her shoulder. If I had needed to pee, I would probably have wet myself at this point. Fuck she is scary!

    Staring daggers at me, she wiped her bloodied cheek with the back of her swordhand and unfurled her golden wings, ¡°Fine¡­ Let¡¯s play it your way!¡± she spat before launching herself into the air.

    Like the flash of bright lightning on a dark night, a blinding beam of white gold light lanced down and burned as it glanced my bicep, exploding behind me. Right where my chest had been only moments earlier. ¡°Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!¡±

    Blinking to clear my eyes, I dove and rolled to the side as two more spears of light narrowly missed me. Scrambling to my feet I launched a volley of shadow blasts in reply, only to watch her dodge them with contemptuous ease, gliding to the side with a dipped wing.

    I was not going to be able to keep up if she kept her advantage of distance, height and maneuverability. From my earlier testing I knew that I could fire off twenty seven of those blasts before I collapsed from exhaustion. But that was while fresh and rested, without having already destroyed an electrical substation and fired off six shots already.

    Who knows how many more I could blast into the sky for her dodge?

    If only I could fly too. Some Robin, I am¡­

    A pillar of light exploded at my feet, sending me flying back in the remains of a decorative shrub. I didn¡¯t mean fly that way! It could be worse I guess¡­ Perhaps I should be grateful staring at the beams of light hasn¡¯t turned me to salt. I could use a miracle right now.

    I guess my prayers were answered as Seraph paused her onslaught, giving me a chance to breathe.

    ¡°You¡¯re clearly outmatched Wraith. I¡¯ll offer you ONE last chance to surrender while you are still in one piece and you¡¯ll be returned to your cell to finish your sentence plus any additional time you have earned,¡± the bitch generously offered.

    I¡¯d never hated anyone more than my interrogator back in prison, but this sanctimonious arrogant bitch was threatening to steal second place from Jakob and he had tortured me. I spat in her direction for an answer knowing it wouldn¡¯t reach her.

    My defiance was met with a swift response as another Lance exploded at my feet, painfully catching me in the blast and sending me careening through the air. To my surprise, the pain of impacting hard ground or, hell, even the sensation of falling didn''t follow.

    To my shock and judging by the look on her face an equally shocked Seraph, I was hovering in the air. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed a second surprise. Wings. Not wings of feathers like Seraph or Nightbinder, nor the leathery wings of a bat. Skeletal wings made of floating shards of the same obsidian-like crystal as my spikes and sword, like some sort of nightmare chandelier.

    ¡°Well this is new,¡± I giggled, ¡°Bet you didn¡¯t think I could do that Seraph!¡±

    Soaring up into the air above her, I gave her the finger and watched as her eyes seemed to bulge in apoplexy. Screaming in rage she shot up in my direction with her sword thrust before her, aimed for my heart. Shit I think I finally broke her.

    Fuck no time for idle thoughts! Sending another volley of shadow blasts her way, I attempted to, clumsily mimic her earlier maneuvers and dodge. Again my inexperienced showed, barely managing to wobble away down and to my left.

    And I was out of time, having already dodged or batted away my attacks, Seraph was almost upon me and I was near-shitting myself in panic. Eyes closed, I blindly lashed out with my sword.

    And hit something. Anxiously peeking with one eye, I saw blood trickling down a wounded wing¡¯s golden feathers. Our eyes met. Mutual disbelief. A panicked expression replaced the rage that had only moments before stared up at me. Seraph was frantically trying to stay aloft on just one flapping main wing, as the other hung limp. Her four lesser wings were in disarray as they uncoordinatedly struggled to save her.

    Then less than a second later as if the strings holding her up had been cut, she was plummeting to the ground. Golden feathers trailing in her wake.

    She hit with a wince inducing thud and a crack.

    She wasn¡¯t moving.

    Fuck I hope she wasn¡¯t dead. Even if she was a bitch, I didn¡¯t want that on my conscience or record. I¡¯m not a killer.

    Getting down to her was a shaky crash course in aerodynamics of how to descend without following Seraph in to the ground. Three barely controlled dives and almost faceplanting later, I had two feet firmly on the ground.

    Dismissing my wings was another thing, but thankfully once I got a feel for them it wasn¡¯t any different to returning my sword to shadows. With that accomplished, I staggered over to where she lay sprawled on the pavers.

    First aid lessons were kicking in.

    I felt slightly moist warm air on my cheek and heard a soft rasp as I checked if she was breathing. She was out cold, but alive. The wings crumpled beneath her must have cushioned her fall, I knew better than to try and move her after a fall like that. Even if she was breathing she could have spinal damage. Spinal damage that if present, I could exacerbate if I tried to move her.

    Our fight must not have gone unnoticed because sirens were finally on their way and hopefully there would be an ambulance among them. Fuck, I was worrying about someone who just moments earlier was trying to put me in a cell or coffin.

    Fuck Fuck Fuck. Do I run before the sirens get here and leave her or do I watch over her till she gets help?

    I was on my ass. When did I get down here? My heart was pounding in my eyes and my breath ragged and panting, burning my throat. Fuck I¡¯m dizzy. For the first time since my changes I was shivering. Cold¡­

    A pair of familiar arms scooped me up, ¡°You can rest now honey.¡± His chest was warm, Al is that you? Exhausted. I¡¯m so tired, I think I¡¯ll have a short...

 Arc 2: Out of the Birdcage & into, Chapter 17: Emotional Whiplash

    <h2>Chapter 17: Emotional Whiplash</h2>

    It was warm. The sort of warm where you feel safe, content and none of your muscles want to move, except for the slightest stretch or wriggle to find a more comfortable position. Sleep still gripped my mind and rather than trying to think or open my eyes, I just lay there. Lay there and listened to the sound of a tv in the room, soaking in the warmth and the sensation of a large hand gently stroking my hair.

    Already my sleep¡¯s dreams were fading away. One had been a happy dream. All I could remember of the dream was that I had been living with my family in a city of gold and marble, atop a mountain and surrounded by pure white clouds. As happy as it has been, I sensed I didn¡¯t belong, or that the dream didn¡¯t belong to me. As if I was a passenger, not in control of the body I was in, but instead just viewing the world through their eyes.

    It wasn¡¯t the oddest dream though. I dreamt I¡¯d fought an angel in a dark city plaza. I¡¯d had wings, I flew! Somehow I beat the angel. Strange¡­ The dream had been so real and clear. Had it happened?

    Everytime I tried to wake enough to think the hand came down for another stroke, scattering my concentration and reducing me to sleepy happiness. Thinking could wait. I was warm, happy and safe.

    My mind continued to drift, unable to muster the will to follow through with any thoughts more complex than unfocused impressions that drifted through my head like fluttering butterflies, until it latched onto the TV''s audio.

    ¡°...both Yelmorn Industries and the US Government Taskforce for the Emergence have denied all allegations and Yelmorn has stated the following, ¡®We will not comment on conspiracy theories.¡¯

    Yelmorn¡­ Wait¡­ There was something important-

    As if it was cleaning a whiteboard, the hand stroking my hair erased the thought. A blissful murmur escaped me.

    We are now taking you live to an OMR press conference in New York by OMR founding member and spokesperson Mystrix Pallas.¡±

    The strong clear voice of the TV presenter was replaced by the sounds of shouting reporters, causing my mind to reel as it struggled to pick a voice to lock onto. A grumble escaped my lips and the hand paused.

    ¡°Mystrix Pallas, Mystrix Pallas! Can you tell us more about the strange OMR memo and press release from earlier today?¡± a voice called out over the rest.

    The press conference quieted as a clear and commanding voice cut through the noise of jostling and shouting reporters. The painful discordant sound had gone silent, I let out another grumble. This time a thankfully one.

    ¡°The purpose of the memo and press release was clear, the OMR will officially be pulling out of the hunt for the individual Wraith, who escaped from the Yelmorn owned Penrith Centre for the Confinement of Dangerous Emerged, during the recent mass breakout,¡± the commanding voice spoke. It was sort of soothing. Oh! Right! Wraith is me, I think...

    ¡°This announcement comes in light of the recent leaks to the press and online, as well as files that were delivered to our offices and the offices of Amnesty International. Given the continuous coverage of the Yelmorn atrocities and the ongoing live broadcast of the victim¡¯s interviews, we will be sticking to the OMR¡¯s response. Firstly the OMR will be offering assistance to all the victims and we will be organising counselling for anyone affected by the news. We would also like to also confirm that we will be consulting on the legal case Amnesty International is mounting to exonerate Wraith of all charges due to recent facts.¡±

    Each sentence was like a gust of cold wind buffeting my warm fuzzy mind, forcing me towards clarity and wakefulness. I couldn¡¯t help but grumble in annoyance as the deluge of information washed away the comfortable warm haze. What sort of terrorist leaves a TV on, in a sleeping person¡¯s room! Grrr¡­ What I was hearing felt important but I was failing to grasp what she was saying, an atrocity, victims, Yelmorn, OMR? Something about exonerating Wraith? Me?

    Before I had a chance to think my through what I had already heard, another reporter identified himself and yelled out another question, ¡°What does this mean for the OMR¡¯s already tenuous relationship with the government¡¯s taskforce?¡±

    ¡°The OMR will continue to seek a working relationship with the US Government on the matter of Emerged individuals and the meantime we will continue to follow our charter and help provide legal services for Emerged, while assisting law enforcement and the government with the apprehension of Emerged who decide to use their powers for evil,¡± the voice, Mistress Phallus I think, continued.

    The sound of a scuffle broke out in the TV¡¯s background and my mind immediately conjured the image of a reporter shoving their way to the front of the pack. Through the scuffle another reporters voice called out, ¡°What can you tell us about the rumors and unconfirmed reports of a confrontation between Wraith and the hero Seraph, last night during Penrith¡¯s blackout?¡±

    Oh shit that wasn¡¯t a dream! Fuck me I really did blow up a power substation and fight Seraph. She tried to kill me! Wait the raid, they are talking about the raid! Is everyone alright? Did we get Kelly!?

    Shooting up out of the sheets, I stood on a bed, my bed, dizzily swaying as my blood pressure caught up and my vision came back. Blood thundered in my ears as I looked around... I was in my room and below Al was staring up me at with shocked concern from where he was sitting at my bedside.

    ¡°We currently know as much as you do, but I would like to remind you that the OMR¡¯s role is as a support structure and unified body providing representation, we are not directly in charge of any heroes. If there is evidence of wrongdoing from either party, the OMR will act to investigate then act. Finally we would like to remind you in the event of a hero breaking our charter, an OMR tribunal can enforce penalties on a hero, including even banning them from receiving OMR support.¡±

    Al reached over to a remote on the bedside table and turned off the television, ¡°I expect you must be feeling a little confused, Sweetheart, seeing as its past midday and you¡¯ve been out fast asleep for nearly thirteen hours.¡±

    Thirteen hours! I went to open my move and speak, but Al having noticed my shocked expression, stood and placed a hand on my shoulder, just above my spike.

    ¡°Ah Ah Ah, little Robin. Everything is alright. You did your part magnificently and even took Seraph out of the fight. I found you right after, on my way back from doing my bit and yes, Kalia and Laithe managed to shut the lab down and rescue everybody,¡± Al soothed.

    ¡°And Kelly?¡± I asked hopeful.

    Al chucked, ¡°Yes and Kelly. She is just as eager to see you as you are her, but you needed your rest and we had a few things we needed to do as well. We made sure to interview and take her testimony of everything that happened since she was recorded dead, up until we rescued her.¡±

    Al¡¯s voice turned somber, ¡°Robin¡­ I know you are a strong girl, but you may need to prepare yourself for when you see Kelly¡­ She¡­ Well, even though she can apparently heal from anything, even death. Her mind¡­ Robin, you probably know better than most the sort of trauma she went through. She is going to need lots of time, support and love to recover and hopefully return to her old self. I¡¯ve already found an extra gifted psychiatrist to help her and they are currently in session, but... Robin, if anyone can understand and help her, it is you.¡±

    ¡°I- I think I can do it. I owe it to not just her, but you and everyone else who helped me. I¡¯d hate to think who¡¯d I¡¯d be if Kelly, Ms Clark, you and everyone else never helped me,¡± I shuddered as a cold shiver travelled down my spine at the thought of the lonely, hurt person I¡¯d been and what I could have become or done, if I had endured my time since Emerging and in the prison, alone and friendless.

    I¡¯d gone from a friendless orphan with shitty foster parents to having these amazing friends and found family. Friends like Kelly, Nel, Kalia and Redd. Adults I could actually rely upon like Barb, Ms Clark and Tinker. Possible role models like Nightbinder; Laithe. Then there was Al, I don¡¯t know what I could have done to earn the generosity or care he heaped on me.

    These people actually gave a fuck, do you know how rare that has been in my life so far? Parents, who dumped me out back behind a hospital. Countless caseworkers in the foster system who cared only about quotas and ticking boxes, fobbing me off to different institutions, programs and foster parents. Foster parents who returned me like I was broken goods, foster parents who only cared about the foster checks. Teachers who didn¡¯t care outside of school hours. The list went on.

    The number of bruises and belt marks that had been carefully left under my clothes where they wouldn¡¯t show, or times an adult had clipped my ear in passing when others weren¡¯t looking. Negative physical contact outweighed the rare occasions of positive contact by orders of magnitude.

    You think I wanted to flinch every time someone tried to hug me?

    I was getting better though, thanks to my new friends. Honestly! Hugging every time you meet someone, that couldn¡¯t be what normal people did? ...It was nice though.

    My reverie was broken by a concerned Al clearing his throat, I had spaced out. As worried as he looked, he decided against asking what I was thinking. It¡¯s a rare talent to know when to mind your own- I mean judge the moment. A talent I can honestly say I¡¯m thankful Al had, as I wasn¡¯t ready to confide with him about this part of my upbringing.

    Instead he brought me up to date with what had occurred since we parted for the raid last night. Vulptrix and Nightbinder¡¯s fight through the tower and the rescue of the Emerged lab rats. How he used them as a distraction and grabbed as much evidence from the executive offices as he could in the time he had. How he found me moments before I passed out after my fight with Seraph and carried me to the rendezvous point, a waterfront restaurant that was under renovations.

    ¡°Bastion was there? That Captain America rip off who has taken a few too many hits to the head? Whoops... I probably added to that when I made him eat dirt. Still I am surprised he didn¡¯t try to arrest you, considering his punch first ask questions later approach,¡± I interrupted, snorting as I tried not to laugh.

    Al smiled and softly shook his head, ¡°You might laugh, but he has a kind heart and a good head on his shoulders. His only fault is his horribly naivety, coupled with romanticised ideals of heroism. What he saw down in the basement of Yelmorn was surely a painful wake up call.¡±

    ¡°Must be nice... Living with your head in the clouds, unable to see the rest of us wading our way through all this shit. Sorry Al, I¡¯m struggling to empathise with him,¡± I deadpanned. What use is a good heart when you are protecting a status quo that protects bad people and forces good people into inescapable painful lives filled with catch-22 pitfalls designed to beat you down.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°Well I can¡¯t fault you, dear. Nevertheless, I can¡¯t help but wonder if that good heart will break from what he saw, or if he will come out of this a better hero.¡± He mused, ¡°The world could use such a rare commodity as a good hero.¡±

    Sometimes I wondered if Al lived in a different world to the rest of us.

    Taking my silence as permission to continue, Al went on explaining everything that happened while I slept. Thanks to his daytime job, Al was an old hat when it came to rallying the media and controlling the message. Taking the information he had gathered during his investigation, Ms Clark¡¯s case files and the plethora of documents, files, photos and videos he had acquired as evidence during the raid, Al had constructed a dossier.

    A dossier aimed at the heart of Yelmorn. Using Nel as a courier, copies of the dossier were delivered to the desks of every major news group, as well as Amnesty International. That wasn¡¯t enough for Al though, along with yet another video message as Unbowed, the dossier was leaked across the web with Spider¡¯s help. For their ¡®small¡¯ fee of course, Spider was mercenary by nature.

    The final copy of the dossier was given to Nightbinder and Bastion, with the weight of the two hero''s testimonies it would be delivered to the OMR¡¯s branch office here in Penrith.

    Left with each copy of the dossier was a small note that simply said, ¡°I have given you all the evidence you need to pursue this story, but there remains many voices who will wish to speak out. Yelmorn¡¯s victims will not be silenced, come listen and spread their words. Call this number and a contracted Rifter will transport you to where they are being cared for until their liberty is vouchsafed. Unbowed.¡± At the notes¡¯ end was a number a burner phone in Nel¡¯s possession.

    With the dossier out in the open, Yelmorn was on the back foot unable to react while under public scrutiny. The live broadcast of the victims¡¯ testimonies was their shield, not only could they no longer be silenced but they could not be touched. There would be no successes attempting a cover up, or claiming it was a hoax. That didn''t stop them trying. The Government task force had already disavowed Yelmorn, claiming no knowledge of the experiments and a likely frantic PR representative at Yelmorn had in the face of all the evidence tried to write it off as a conspiracy theory.

    I guess when you¡¯re that deep in the shit the only thing to do is keep digging.

    Talking about digging, Al warned me against digging around, looking for the leaked images or footage acquired during the raid, ¡°These aren¡¯t things anyone should have to see, let alone the innocent eyes of an underage girl like yourself, Robin. Even I find them distressing, I¡¯d hate for you to have nightmares, sweetheart.¡±

    There he goes calling me sweetheart again. He¡¯s been calling me sweetheart and honey a lot recently¡­ It''s not like I want him to call me that or anything!

    That big hand of his descended onto my head, further messing my bed hair. I felt my face grow heated and I cursed my fair complexion for betraying me. Why did he have to be so¡­ caring! Staring a hole into the floor between my feet, I was thankful I barely came up to his chest in height. He couldn¡¯t see my face, I¡¯d never live it down if he saw it right now.

    You¡¯re probably thinking I¡¯m an idiot right now¡­ ¡®Robin why don¡¯t you just enjoy and embrace it?¡¯ Yeah no. This was just temporary, I knew better than to get used to it or become emotionally invested. I¡¯d be eighteen and an adult before I get lucky enough to get exonerated, then I¡¯d be out on my own. It was a lesson you learnt after the first couple foster families if you wanted to protect yourself. I was failing at it¡­

    Before I could slip up and let my emotions betray me, he left. Left to cook the breakfast he insisted I needed, while I washed and dressed. He was making it hard not to like him.

    I was halfway to the shower and it was less than thirty seconds after he left the room, when my curiosity got the best of me. Diving back to my bed, I whipped open my laptop and started searching for the leaks. A minute later I found what I was looking for and seconds after that I found regret.

    Regret, horror, disgust, anger, desolation and nausea. It was like seeing the aftermath of a massacre, a still wet torture chamber, the contents of a serial killers freezer and fresh roadkill all at once. I don¡¯t know how I got there, but I was dry heaving over the toilet. Kelly, my poor Kelly. What did they do to you?

    The coughing, dry heaves of my empty stomach desperately trying to escape and run for the hills, transitioned to deep sobs as I knelt draped over the porcelain toilet bowl.

    * * *

    A very rough hour passed before I managed to pull myself back together, shower, dress and find Al in the dining room. This time there wasn¡¯t a lecture about my tardiness waiting for me. Instead I was met with a sympathetic smile.

    ¡°Sweetheart¡­ I- ...Why don¡¯t you grab yourself a seat Robin. I have your breakfast here, I managed to keep it hot for you,¡± Al said motioning to the dining table.

    Picking one of like twenty chairs available, I sat as Al placed a plate laden with food in front of me.

    It is hard to keep moping when there is a pile of fluffy pancakes drenched in maple syrup from north of the border and pillows of whipped cream in front of you. And a much needed jug if coffee. The smell of both already had my stomach growling and my mouth drooling appreciatively. I wish I could get used to this.

    The first forkful of heavenly syrup smothered pancakes was about to grace my mouth when Al decide to rudely interrupt. A soft hug around my shoulders. My heart didn¡¯t skip a beat, nor did that cursed heat return to my cheeks. They absolutely did not. Ok maybe they did... Thanks dad¡­ Can I get back to eating?

    He did let me get back to eating, but it took no small effort ignoring the thoughtful gaze he was directing my way. I¡¯ve always found being watched unnerving and my inability to read Al¡¯s intent would have had my mind working in circles if I let it. It was best to ignore him and not think about what he was planning. If I had to guess, he looked like he was dying to ask me something.

    It was almost 5pm by the time I finished breakfast. Yes, 5pm. No I didn¡¯t spend hours eating, I¡¯d only been awake for about two hours. Yup, I woke up around 3pm. Working backwards, I¡¯d slept for about thirteen hours, Id passed out around 2am, our Yelmorn raid started around 1am. Why was I having breakfast at this late hour instead of another meal? Cause breakfast is the most important meal of the day! That and I was breaking my fast, I¡¯d last eaten a brief supper snack before going out on our raid.

    * * *

    Six o¡¯clock rolled around and Kelly finished her session with Derrick Parsons. You remember the ¡®gifted¡¯ psych I mentioned earlier? He was an emerged psychiatrist with the ability to read minds, Kalia and Laithe found him in the holding cells down in Yelmorn¡¯s basement labs when they rescued Kelly. From the way Al talks about him, I¡¯m starting to think that old wolf is soft on him. If you know what I mean.

    When I saw him I could see why. He might look worn and malnourished from his time in captivity, but with a bassy voice that rang out in a rich African American New Orleans¡¯ accent, that indomitable smile he had, brown eyes that still shone despite all odds, broad shoulders that were made to lean on and crows feet in the corners of his eyes that suggested he laughed often. He was a catch and I approved, even if Al¡¯s ex might have a fit.

    I didn¡¯t get to do more than quickly say hi before Al pulled him away. Which left just two, myself and Kelly. The bubbly goth, who had become my world in prison.

    I can¡¯t say how long we stood there facing each other, but it felt like an eternity as we both struggled to find the right words for this moment. I¡¯d like to say I found the perfect words to describe how I felt, the joy and relief seeing her here finally safe, how I felt about her, how I felt I had failed her in prison, but it was Kelly who made the first move.

    Kelly had abandoned her search for words and settled for half running, half stumbled over her own feet towards me, to grab and hug me. Confused and a flicker of hurt flashed across her face when I stepped back and held up a hand signalling for her to stop. It wasn¡¯t that how I felt about her had changed or even that I didn''t want the hug. Oh, I so so wanted that hug.

    I wanted that hug without holding back, without explaining the need to be careful of my spikes.

    They had been in my mind for a long time, I¡¯d even thought I was a monster because of them. It took me time to realise that the emergence gave me only what I wanted.

    I was a girl, that part was simple.

    I had always found darkness comforting and wanted the power to protect myself. How that had manifested was an affinity and control of shadows and darkness.

    The spikes had been a mystery. A mystery I think I had solved. When almost all physical contact I experienced had been negative, I¡¯d become uncomfortable with all physical contact. The spikes were something to protect me and warn off those who thought to touch me.

    I no longer needed them.

    I could protect myself and there were people who wanted to embrace me, people who wouldn¡¯t hurt or betray me.

    I had been thinking on the subject of their nature ever since I first formed my sword with them as inspiration. Formed out of condensed darkness and easily returned to darkness. My wings last night only strengthened the argument.

    I wanted to try.

    Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath. Just like how I formed my sword, I visualised the spikes in my mind and then as I breathed out I imagined them turning to misty darkness and evaporating.

    Without opening my eyes, I blindly felt along my arm, first my forearm, then my bicep, my shoulder, neck, crown of my head and then back down my spine, the sides of my abs and down my legs. At no point did my hand meet blade sharp obsidian spike. With eyes open I confirmed what I had felt.

    My spikes were gone, leaving behind paper white skin and swirling black tattoos that crossed my skin like mist.

    I nearly tackled Kelly to the ground with the force of my hug. I''m not sure whose top was wetter by the end, cause we both ended up crying into each other¡¯s shoulder and neck as we embraced. We had a lot of hugging to catch up on.

    * * *

    That wasn¡¯t all the crying we did as we caught up. I cried as she recounted everything that had happened since we parted, I cried when she told me of what had happened to her. I honestly felt like I had failed her, I¡¯d failed to work out how to escape with her and then my telling Ms Clark had gotten her transferred. It took a while for her to convince me otherwise.

    Eventually it was time for a late dinner and for Kelly, who''d been up all day bed.

    For me there was one last surprise.

    I¡¯d gone through the motions of getting ready for bed, pulling on PJs, brushing teeth, my mind going over the days events. I wasn¡¯t sure how I was going to fall asleep, even as I slipped into bed and reached over to turn off the lamp. In less than twenty four hours, I¡¯d raided a powerful company that was experimenting on Emerged, learnt I was potentially facing an exoneration for my supposed crimes and reunited with the person who had not only been there in my darkest hour but given me my name.

    It was a lot to process. It felt unreal, like a strange dream I was about to wake up from. Wake up and find that the last few months since the first night of the Emergence was a dream. I knew it wasn¡¯t, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling.

    It was now that Al came knocking on the door, again knocking me free of my thoughts.

    ¡°Robin... Sweetheart, can I come in?¡± he asked, voice slightly muffled by the thick door.

    I sighed, wasn''t like I would be able to fall asleep straight away anyway. ¡°Fiiine!¡± I called out in that reluctant voice most teens learn early on.

    The door had a lock, but I hadn¡¯t felt the need to use it. I felt safe here and regardless, I was in a secret underground bunker, if they could get in here, a simple door lock wouldn¡¯t keep them out of my room. I watched on as the handle moved and the door clicked, before swinging opening. Even though I knew it was him, I felt an unwanted flash of anxiety.

    Stepping inside, Al left the door ajar as he moved forward and sat on my bed, twisting around to face me. Here comes the heart to heart¡­

    ¡°Umm¡­ Well¡­ How are you holding up Robin?¡± Al said, looking distinctly awkward for once. Again I go the impression, he was dying to ask me something.

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± I replied. Here it comes, the moment he ¡®gently¡¯ breaks it to me that I will need to leave soon.

    The hesitation on his usually confident face melted away, ¡°Robin¡­ well you see¡­ If I have my way, you will soon likely be exonerated, free to go your own way and¡­¡±

    Yup here it comes just watch. Once I am a free girl, he¡¯ll be able to get me out of his hair.

    ¡°...And well, I was wondering, hoping really, that maybe¡­ maybe you would like it if I became your dad. I mean if you were alright with it, I would like to adopt you,¡± Al said, voice full of hope.

    Wait what!? I was reeling from the emotional whiplash. Adopt me! He wants me to be his daughter? I¡¯m not getting discarded again?

    How was I meant to sleep now?

 Interlude 4: Mystrix Pallas, Part 1

    <h2>Interlude 4, Part 1: Mystrix Pallas</h2>

    8:12pm, 22/01/2019, Crescent Street, Astoria, New York.

    It is only now, fifty six sleeps since I found myself stranded alone back on Earth, that I have decided to record my experiences. In the unlikely off chance I finally meet my long overdue death, I have chosen to write this account in English (the primary language of the region I find myself in), so that my thoughts may live on even after my death. It brings me joy that similar sentiments have proliferated  in our long absence. I imagine readers of this account will, even with the new strangeness in the world, dismiss my account as the delusions of a mad woman, but I assure you it is entirely factual.

    My story begins long before my recent arrival, but it does begin on Earth.

    I was born long ago in the Iberian Peninsula of what is now called Spain, to a culture historians of this age refer to as the Bell Beaker Peoples. A time of harsh lives and frivolous gods. I cannot tell you of the precariousness of those lives when life and death was in the hands of beings that could just as easily aid you as bring disaster.

    My talents were discovered early in life, leading me to be apprenticed to our small village¡¯s Seer and alienated from everyone else. Such powers were necessary for the villages survival, but not something you wanted around. Seer¡¯s always lived on the outskirts of the village, never at its heart.

    They called us Seers even though we were as blind to the future as they were, but that wasn¡¯t to say we were useless. Though looking back, if I could have seen the future would I have made the same arrogant and heartless mistakes? Would I have been swayed so easily?

    We had other duties they relied upon us for. Healing the sick, influencing the weather, calming beasts and warding our villages from harmful creatures of the hidden world were among our responsibilities. Even as an apprentice my powers were seen as remarkable. I could force rain, where my teacher could only pull water out of air to fill a pot of no great size. Such power only alienated me further.

    I was only in my second decade when a strange traveller passed through. Due to the sheer strength of his presence, at first I believed a God was paying us a visit, but he was just a human. Though a human with power like me and not like those in the village proper. He introduced himself as Atlas and proceeded to woo me with talk of gathering folk like ourselves and building a village, nay a city of our own. I must admit the thought of having somewhere to belong tugged at my loneliness and won me over.

    That was how I came to be a disciple of Atlas, a magic user without peer.

    For many long years we travelled the world, seeking out others, building a tribe of Atlas. It was during this time I ceased aging, magic-locked in the grips of youth and good health.

    As our numbers grew into the hundreds, many began to tire of our endless nomadic journey and wished to settle down like Atlas had long promised. I must admit I also shared such a desire even if I loyally never voiced it. Eventually as more and more began to share and voice this sentiment, Atlas announced his agreement.

    Following the great ley lines that crossed beneath the land like mighty rivers of magic, we eventually came across a great convergence, a vast nexus of lines. It was an island within an island in the sea of many islands, that people now call the Aegean.

    There we settled and would build a great city named after our leader Atlas. Such an event did not go unremarked by the many gods that walked our world. A great sea god of this region, that is remembered as Poseidon, blessed the settlement and in his honor did we build a shrine at the city''s heart and take the bull¡¯s head as an emblem in his honor.

    For a time we became very insular ignoring the outside world, focusing only on ourselves and our pursuits in magic, knowledge and application of that knowledge. It was during this time I was given the name Cleta as one of Atlas¡¯s first and chief disciples.

    I took on disciples of my own and found a love of teaching. One of my first and most difficult students was a girl named Circe. She was born outside of Atlantis in a time that many of the city¡¯s youth were born within. Magic came almost naturally to her and a few of her fellow students out of jealousy even leveled accusations that she was a goddess or demi-goddess in disguise. Circe questioned everything which set her above her peers, but also set her apart from most of us. She was a firebrand who even questioned the motives of Atlas and our attitudes towards greater humanity.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Eventually she left us to travel the world and live by her own values. I like to think she still held a soft spot for her teacher considering we remained in touch for a span of many years, her sharing tales of her adventures and asking for news of home.

    Over time we in Atlantis again grew curious about the outside world and a vast fleet of ships was built. Thus began an era of trade and expansion. Colonies and trading posts were set up across the sea, allowing for the first influx of new citizens in an age and the acquisition of land and resources needed for growth. First and chieftest of these was the settlement of Minoa.

    With our renewed exposure to the outside world, we could see that things had advanced somewhat in our absence, but some things remained the same. Those with magic were segregated even as they were relied upon and people were still at the mercy of magic creatures and the fickle nature of gods.

    It wasn¡¯t that people were afraid of knowledge. No, but thanks to the precariousness of life they had been forced to rely on the power of magic users and the generosity of gods. Even as they were subject to the ever present dangers of the magics and beasts that dwell wildernesses that surrounded man as well as the endless feuds and games of gods.

    Atlas professed to be moved by the plight of the peoples beyond our borders and of our so called lost kin. Eventually as our naval power came to dominate the seas around our home, Atlas called for a great conquest, a crusade of enlightenment and rescue he named it. We would rule the people of this world for their own good, as was our supposed right as an enlightened civilisation.

    Although many of us considered ourselves scholars among many other things, rather than warriors, few refused the call to arms. We were not alone, one god who felt his aspect had been usurped by one of his kin had sided with us and provided us with many of his servants as soldiers. A god named Anubis. It was around this time that I lost contact with my former student Circe. She must have disapproved of our actions.

    Already in this account I have mentioned gods many times, but not explained what exactly they are. To any readers, you may think of a god as a formless omnipresent and omnipotent being or you may think they are merely fictional beings. It is understandable, Earth has not had gods of any power for a long time since most have disappeared or long since faded in power due to the loss of ley lines.

    Gods were real, but they were neither omnipresent or omnipotent. Gods can also be referred to as Aspectals, a concept with a similar implications as elementals. Aspectals are aspects of mass consciousness given form and empowered by magic. Immortal, vastly powerful within the idea or aspect that gave them form and with time learn, grow and become just as individual as any being. Many chose forms in mimicry of humans, but many took on the forms of the beasts of the land or even mountains and trees.

    The war was initially swift and overwhelming force destroyed any resistance, minimizing losses on both sides. Rebels were punished, and if they continued their resistance they would be executed. New laws were established, followed by construction projects and plans for education. Gods were subjected to the new laws or forcibly banished.

    What we never expected was for the many families, pantheons of gods and their servants to unite and wage war against us. Even gods from unknown lands far beyond the known world came. Long famous for their rivalries and feuds, they had defied expectations and unified under a single banner.

    Prior to this we had been able to evict and subjugate gods because they fought as individuals and we had numbers and tactics on our side. Now we were losing ground as fast as we had taken it.

    Magi are powerful but a god is much more so. They were born out of magic, individually their use of magic is equal to our best, but each have powers in their aspect far beyond what magi are capable of. Not to mention not being made of mortal flesh, they are hardy, heal grievous wounds and do not perish easily.

    Eventually we pulled back our forces to and into the city of Atlantis, but the gods were closing in. Gods had destroyed many places through accident, indifference or even spite, but we had awakened their wrath. There would be no survivors or rebuilding afterwards. To continue fighting would be folly and surrender would be suicide.

    The plan, our only plan was escape! We had theorised the existence of not just other worlds but also other planes and if there was nowhere for us to flee to in this world we would make the gamble of fleeing elsewhere.

    The algorithm of a spell can be complex and navigating its path through the many roots and branches of the weave of magic is a difficult task. Even more so with a spell of this size. For a teleportation spell of this size we broke It down into an immense number of small but achievable parts. Each magi responsible for one part of the greater whole like the cogs of a great machine fuelled by the nexus of ley lines below us.

    We had begun the casting by the time the gods had made landfall. Even in the early stages the spell began to destabilise the island as it drained the many ley lines of magic and encapsulated the city and the rock it was built on. Tremors began underfoot and the city¡¯s hot spring baths boiled into steam.

    The island was already destabilizing below us, there was no going back if the Gods didn¡¯t destroy us, the island would. The only remaining chance for our survival was in finishing the great spell and placing our hopes in its success and a safer destination.

    Then the city was thrust into the unknown, tearing through reality itself in the process and plunging us into darkness. The veil of darkness was ripped away as swiftly as it had descended revealing a new land that lay beneath a green sky.

 Interlude 4: Mystrix Pallas, Part 2

    <h2>Interlude 4: Mystrix Pallas, Part 2</h2>

    Previously: The plan, our only plan was escape! We had theorised the existence of not just other worlds but also other planes and if there was nowhere for us to flee to in this world we would make the gamble of fleeing elsewhere.

    The algorithm of a spell can be complex and navigating its path through the many roots and branches of the weave of magic is a difficult task. Even more so with a spell of this size. For a teleportation spell of this size we broke It down into an immense number of small but achievable parts. Each magi responsible for one part of the greater whole like the cogs of a great machine fuelled by the nexus of ley lines below us.

    We had begun the casting by the time the gods had made landfall. Even in the early stages the spell began to destabilise the island as it drained the many ley lines of magic and encapsulated the city and the rock it was built on. Tremors began underfoot and the city¡¯s hot spring baths boiled into steam.

    The island was already destabilizing below us, there was no going back if the Gods didn¡¯t destroy us, the island would. The only remaining chance for our survival was in finishing the great spell and placing our hopes in its success and a safer destination.

    Then the city was thrust into the unknown, tearing through reality itself in the process and plunging us into darkness. The veil of darkness was ripped away as swiftly as it had descended revealing a new land that lay beneath a green sky.

    We would come to call the place we arrived at The Wild Dimension. Superficially it was like Earth. There was ground beneath our feet, a sun above, plants and animals, mountains, seas, but rather than a sphere in the void, this world was an endless flat plane, where perspective shifted and couldn¡¯t be relied upon. There was no moon or stars, the sun¡¯s position always seeming to stay in place relative to the viewer and not their location in the world. Distances deceived the eye in this realm, and seemed to shift in ways that were beyond our understanding.

    It was a land with boiling with far more magic than Earth had possessed, and it was equally rich in resources. Despite being far far more dangerous than our old home it was filled with so much more opportunity.

    At first we merely contented ourselves to repair that which had been damaged in our escape, you can¡¯t expect to transport an entire city and not have shifted foundations, toppled pillars, cracked plaster and broken sewers.

    Once our beloved city had been restored to its pre-war glory, we turned our attentions to the exploration and study of this new land. We learnt much of this new home, a plane where the land was influenced by and shifted under the observations and consciousness of sentient beings. It widened our imaginations and broaden the scope of our experiments and knowledge.

    It wasn¡¯t long before we again turned to expansion, not just of the city, but also our magic and other sciences. The fusion of our magic and technology allowed for industrialisation and miniaturization of mass fabrication of ready-made spells to grown gems and metal spell-circuits.

    Magi-tech. Devices that could contain the labyrinthine and intricate pathways for as many spells as required and the means to fuel and cast them. No longer would mages be limited by their ability to remember and navigate the casting of spells in the moment or the complexity of multilayered and multistaged spells. Instead magi-tech devices specific to the task could be crafted and the complexity could be programmed away.

    It was many years, perhaps centuries after our arrival that we encountered another of the Wild Realms denizens, the Echni.

    The Echni in some ways were our mirror image. They too were refugees that had prior to fleeing here, been an enclave of knowledge and progress in a sea of fear and ignorance. Their magic and technology rivalled ours and they were great builders. Their empire here was our equal in both power and avarice. Perhaps our greatest difference was appearance, where as we looked like any human back home, half of their number looked like hideous inhuman monsters to our eyes, while the other half were strange graceful beings of shy curiosity.

    A relationship of tentative peace was established with the Echni, based on wary respect and mutual admiration. Agreements of mutual assistance were made and the trade of knowledge and resources started. For a great time this peace lasted.

    The other race we encountered, if they can be called such, were the demons. I understand that name has certain connotations on Earth and that it is best if you set them aside for now.

    The Demons were the natives of the Wild Dimension and shared much with the plane. Demons were formless beings of magic and the very forces that shaped the Wild Dimension. Their thought processes and consciousness was alien beyond understanding.

    They did not stay formless though, Demons had a tendency to create their own physical forms based on whatever took their fancy. Often these forms were even more inhuman than the Echni as they imitated and blended the forms of anything and everything. Atlantians, Echni, beasts of the wild, insects, flora, rocks, rivers, dirt, ice, clouds and fire. Some however managed to constrain their form to a base that was mostly Atlanteans or Echni and a smaller number of those managed to imitate our thought processes.

    Though we rarely came into contact with the Demons, those we managed to capture and put through the rigors of experimentation, yielded many discoveries of great theoretical merit.

    It was during this period Atlantis came into its peak. The term utopia had been bandied around many times in the past, but if there ever was a time it applied it was then. Atlantis was experiencing its longest period of peace and expansion since its founding and we could want for little. All the menial labor required for the running of the city, production of food, power, management of waste, transit, communication, cleaning, construction and even defence were now handled by devices and machines comprised of magi-tech.

    Citizens could spend their endless days in leisure, study or hobbies. Work was something to pass the time, pursue goals or build a name for yourself.

    It was not to last.

    Many of our people had begun to attribute all our successes to our leader Atlas, especially those born after the war. In the eyes of many he had become something more than the first among equals, more than a king. A God King in name and power. God in the sense that he was an existence apart from and above us.

    If this reverence and worship had just been a thing of words and attitude we might have been fine, but his control and political power over our people grew too. No longer did he ask and reason with us via impassioned speech, seeking our agreement to follow his will and vision, now he commanded us.

    We had a tyrant and most were blissfully blindfolded to it. Those close to him could see the changes in him. The growing arrogance, hubris, greed, callousness, paranoia and delusions, but it was already too late. Perhaps it had always been there and was only now coming to the surface. None dared confront him and worse the corruption of his character seems to spread like an infection. Many of the elder disciples began to change too and from there it spread through the population engulfing whole streets and city rings in the madness.

    Our utopia changed into a dystopia, a despotic nightmare of insane magi and technophiles. So much of our knowledge and institutions of scholarship were turned to the creation of new weapons. The systems of prosperity no longer reached everyone. Slavery returned and both criminals and those who faulted on debts were gangpressed in to slavery. Others received worse.

    Human experimentation returned and new cruel weapons came of it. The new Anubii, modelled after the God¡¯s servants who fought alongside us in the past, were a vicious example of the era. The Anubii were bipedal wolfen magi-tech constructs, with a slave implanted at their core.

    Standing a head taller than most humans, Anubii were strong, vicious and enduring. Their signature jackal like masks were equipped with a host of implanted devices to enhance their senses and allow for commands to be conveyed directly to the slaves inside. For combat they had their reaving claws and could be equipped with shields and a variety of magi-tech based close quarters and ranged weaponry.

    Stray Echni and Demons began disappearing within Atlantis¡¯s borders in increasing numbers. Out of growing fear, the Echni closed their borders, severed all communication and prayed for Atlantis to turn inwards and consume itself.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    By this point my eyes were opened, I could see how everything had lead to this point. I wondered if Circe was here, would she have scolded me for having taken this long to see it? A number of Atlanteans like myself had begun meeting in secret. We would talk of how to turn things around, how to undo the shadows that had fallen over our people, how to restore our hearts.

    Revolution was not an option for us, we were too few and our opponents had all the numbers and weapons. A coup was proposed, cut out the heart of the sickness and work on healing the society from there. Atlas was the greatest of us and well protected, any coup would be long in planning.

    Atlas however was not sitting idly. Only a hundred of so years after the Echni had closed their borders to us and to the sound of cheering, he ordered the invasion of the Echni territories.

    The war was on a level of brutality beyond that of the war on earth. Two civilisations of great power, technology and magic throwing everything at one another with abandon. That isn''t to say the sides were equally matched. No. In the face of the Atlantean¡¯s horrific use of weapons and engines of war that were as dangerous and otherworldly as the Wild Dimension itself, it was all the Echni could do to not be completely overrun.

    And they would have been overrun, if not for the appearance of unexpected allies of desperation. The first of which were regarded with great suspicion, as they were Atlanteans. The very same Atlanteans, who had been planning their coup in order to save what we saw as our people¡¯s soul. The second had been patiently waiting hidden, for such an opportunity for revenge. The Gods of Earth.

    These gods who had once surrounded Atlantis had found themselves torn from Earth by the wake of our great teleportation spell and stranded on this world. They were not the first to be stranded here and like other such gods including a number of Echni gods, they had been sought out and taken in by the native gods of this plane.

    With the aid of the gods on the battlefield the odds not only evened, but slowly swung against the Atlanteans. For us rebels, we continued to look for openings to launch our coup, praying it be soon enough to end the war before Atlantis was razed to the ground. That said we did not neglect our allies, any goodwill we cultivated had the potential to sway our new allies into sparing non-combatants and preserving what little we could.

    To that end we began exporting intelligence to our allies, sabotaging our own people¡¯s war effort, the abduction and assasination of war-magi officers and others vital to the war effort. Other plans were also made, secret tunnels and bunkers beneath the city as well as leading out of it were prepared to protect and evacuate as many of the non-corrupt citizenry in the event of the war reaching the city.

    Curfew was declared within the city followed by patrols and raids, getting caught out after dark or declared suspicious was a quick way to end up in an Anubii or worse. Naturally our activities became more difficult, and if not for the growing network of tunnels and secret rooms we might have been forced to stop.

    In a flash of ill-timed lucidity, Atlas noticed my long absence from his court and his side. Guided by his paranoia my movements were investigated and my suspiciously frequent visits to the cities various barracks, weapon depots, labs and factories were discovered. A summons to court was issued. A trap in order to capture and confront me, refusing the summons would instantly mark me as a fugitive.

    A trap I almost walked into, if not for the wavering loyalty of another of Atlas¡¯s disciples and a masked warning passed on to me. Fleeing the city, I made for our allies and began assisting with the planning of the coming siege.

    Unlike the past during our war back on Earth, the walls of Atlantis were not something to be breached. Not without losses equal or more than the number of souls within. Built tall and thick prior to the invasion of the Echni, the walls of Atlantis were reinforced with spell barriers that reached the sky and armed with the most devastating magi-tech engines of war we had developed.

    It was here I was able to prove the value of our rebellion. Opening our tunnels to a force of alliance infiltrators and saboteurs, we provided guides and lead them behind the walls to a series of targets that if destroyed would render the artificial ley lines powering the wall¡¯s defences inert. Once the impenetrable Shield of Atlantis had been stripped away, the walls fell in a matter of minutes that left the Atlantean defenders in a state of shock, unable to react.

    The Olympians having held the greatest grudge against Atlanteans, elected to lead the center vanguard. Like a wild hunt of legends, they drove through all resistance aiming straight for the heart of the city with the fury of a natural disaster.

    As much as they still terrified me, I had to follow them. I had to witness the fall of Atlas for myself. I had to be there to try and save as many Atlanteans as I could in the aftermath.

    Such was the faith my people had placed in their walls and so swift was the Olympian vanguard¡¯s advance, Atlas¡¯s forces had been unable to mount an organised defence until we reached the city¡¯s heart. At the center of the city¡¯s concentric circles of streets and canals was its heart the former temple of Posiedon, now a shrine to the worship of Atlas.

    The Atlantean defense had managed to regroup and reform new battlelines comprised of Magi and their Anubii defenders. It mattered little. To the vengeful Olympians and the Wild God host following, no defence would hold them back from claiming Atlas¡¯s head as wergild for his crimes.

    It was a rout, how could it not have been? The war was decided the moment Atlantis¡¯s wall defenses were breached, all that was left was to see how it ended and if a surrender could be made. Surrender would not come; the defenders either Atlas fanatics or afraid that surrender would mean their deaths, clumped together in loose pockets of defiant resistance as they made their last stands.

    It was then my former mentor made his appearance. Atlas the narcissistic showman had emerged from the temple. His robes, his posture, every gesture, every movement, designed to project the image of a God King. It worked. For a moment the entire battlefield paused and went silent as every eye locked onto him, then a roar rose up as every Atlantean yelled and chanted his name. ¡°Atlas,¡± they cried out. Atlas, my mentor, our great leader and the one who had damned us all.

    I remember my confusion at this point. I had been his student, his disciple for uncounted centuries, but his sudden appearance and attitude baffled me. Why? Why was he revealing himself now? How could he be so unphased while the Divine Host slaughtered his followers? Did he think he still had a move left to play or had the delusions left him unable to comprehend the reality of his inevitable defeat?

    One magi, even one as powerful as Atlas, couldn¡¯t turn this tide, it was over!

    Looking back I think my confusion came from being unable to see my former mentor¡¯s true nature. His desire to be worshipped, his lust for power at all costs and the absolute hatred he had for the Gods. I¡¯d been deceived by the charismatic and charming face he put on for the world and even when his mask had begun to peel away, I had been unable to comprehend the full measure of his true self. I¡¯d made excuses to myself and buried every warning sign he accidentally let slip.

    He was right to feel confident. From within the billowing sleeves of his robes, he produced the impossible. A Godmaker and not just that, but one that had been miniaturized enough to be held in the palm of his hand. None of the assembled Divine Host recognised what it was and fear had stolen my ability to warn them.

    A Godmaker reality engine, a theoretical magitech device first conceived during the peak of our Utopian years, the pinnacle of our studies into this dimension and its native inhabitants. A device left as only theoretical due to the near unassailable difficulty involved in crafting it, the immoral and unethical requirements involved and the lack of need for one.

    Its purpose was the control and manipulation of reality in every way conceivable including creation, destruction and alteration. Mass fabrication from thin air, ending hunger, endless energy, transmutation, altering the laws of reality, even creating life. The only limit was the user¡¯s will, scope of thought and imagination.

    The Godmaker as it was initially conceived was a sphere as tall as an aged olive tree or in terms you my reader would understand, a sphere with a diameter of 7 meters. About 23ft in the local weights and measurements. It would have filled a small room. The device like an onion, working inwards was a series of layers of magitech devices and components for functions such as controlling the device, directing and regulating its effects, as well as containing the energies that fueled it.

    At the device¡¯s heart was two cores. One for the absorption and storage of the Wild Dimension¡¯s energies, another for the acquisition and storage of magic The first was made from the essence of countless Demons native to the dimension. The second from the magic core gems of countless magi. The act of making either had been unthinkable.

    Atlas had made one and beyond belief miniaturized it. How such a small device could contain the vast energies it required, was something I could scarcely comprehend. Not only that, he had somehow done it in secret. Completely unknown to our resistance, to me. The Godmaker was never intended as a weapon, but at that size it could easily be turned to such a devastating purpose.

    And that was how Atlas used it. Light as bright as the sun, pure white yet containing every colour of the rainbow, cut through the ranks of Gods tearing them from existence in swaths. He could have in an instant, emptied the entirety of the Temple Square that we were currently fighting in of enemies, if he chose to. Maybe even the whole city and his surroundings, but he was reveling in the devices power, in the satisfaction of a more personal touch.

    He was playing with his food.

    If a few words could describe the history of Atlantis it would be an idiom I have come upon sincer my return to earth, ¡°Pride comes before the fall,¡± and if it fit the history of Atlantis, none embodied more than Atlas himself. His pride, his hubris snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

    Zeus the patriarch of Olympian clan of Earth Gods, wielding one last bolt of lightning targeted the device itself, even as it¡¯s terrible light tore him from reality.

    What happened next occurred in mere seconds. Damaged, the device began to crack apart under the strain of the titanic energies contained within. It then exploded, a furious storm of magic and the wild dimension¡¯s energies shredding everything in its path. And what it shredded was carried on the explosion¡¯s waves like flotsam.

 Authors note: News from the void

    Hey readers, I know you have have probably been wondering where the next release is, especially given how I have done my best to update roughly every week.

    So my writing has slowed due to life, minor health stuff and I''ll admit to a little Destiny 2 binging, but I haven''t stopped writing.

    The final release for Arc 2, the final installment of Interlude 4: Mystrix Pallas is about half finished, I kinda put that on the backburned because I wanted to talk through some things with Valerie, especially concerning Falling Over (where our Atlantean first appeared).

    I have returned to working on Arc 1, there was a lot I was not satisifed with about my writing there. Typos and weird syntax, but also that Robin''s internal voice wasn''t as strong as it has been in Arc 2. A lot of this was be adjusting to writing in a fast first person style compared to the third person style I used for my pervious stories.

    The second reason I returned to Arc 1 and the main drive for improving it is that Valerie has started publishing some of her stuff on Scribblehub to reach more readers (including her Falling over another story set in the Kammiverse that is really good, link will be in post chapter note) and I plan to follow her when she starts posting Kammi Kettu there.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Onto Arc 3, I am still adding to my already extensive notes and plans and I mapping out my notes into different chapters to get a feel for how the Arc will build up.So Arc 3 is going to be good, got some great bombshells I can''t wait to drop in it.

    I''m not sure if I have mentioned it here or not, but I will need a small break before I start posting Arc 3.Writing weekly releases can burn you out especially when there is other life stuff going on and having to consult with other authors, I''ll admit to being burned out at the moment, I''m struggling to read other Kammiverse others chapters pre-release like I used to. Most of my reading has been Valerie''s stuff and having fun with her worldbuilding. If you haven''t already give Silver Light a read, it a Valerie story set in a different setting and Earth to the Kammiverse, it is... well I am struggling to describe it, so you''ll have to read for yourselves.

    As always I''d love to hear from you all.

 Interlude 4: Mystrix Pallas, Part 3

    <h2>Interlude 4: Mystrix Pallas, Part 3</h2>

    Previously: If a few words could describe the history of Atlantis it would be an idiom I have come upon since my return to earth, ¡°Pride comes before the fall,¡± and if it fit the history of Atlantis, none embodied more than Atlas himself. His pride, his hubris snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

    Zeus the patriarch of Olympian clan of Earth Gods, wielding one last bolt of lightning targeted the device itself, even as it¡¯s terrible light tore him from reality.

    What happened next occurred in mere seconds. Damaged, the device began to crack apart under the strain of the titanic energies contained within. It then exploded, a furious storm of magic and the wild dimension¡¯s energies shredding everything in its path. And what it shredded was carried on the explosion¡¯s waves like flotsam.

    In the moment of the explosion I began weaving the root-like pathway of the strongest shield spell I knew. Before the explosion could reach me at the Vanguard¡¯s rear and my finished shield spell closed around me, a spinning shard launched by the explosion, struck me like shrapnel.

    The storm swept over me even as I was knocked unconscious and needless to say, somehow the shield held.

    I wasn¡¯t in Atlantis, nor even the Wild Dimension when I came to. I was lodged in a wave of the colour speckled wave of white energy. A few probing spell arrays later and I realised both that I did not know where I was and I was travelling many times faster than light. At these speeds, my world was limited to the inside of my shield spell, trapped in a wave of tumultuous energy. Even near immortals need air, water and sustenance. In this bubble I had none.

    Now I might have been travelling at speeds faster than the mind can grasp, but reality is vast and quite empty. I could have been travelling months, years, maybe even centuries before I was deposited elsewhere or the wave petered out as its energy dispersed over greater and greater area.

    Time might be relative, but I would be experiencing it in my bubble.

    Stasis. Temporarily separating my consciousness from my body, before sealing the latter off from change. An impossible solution rendered merely difficult due to the raging inferno around me to draw upon. At least it gave me time to think.

    I had almost expended the breathable atmosphere in my bubble before I finished the spell. I¡¯d been getting extremely light headed and then I suddenly wasn¡¯t. I was detached, free to think and dream without the intrusion of bodily needs. I had a lot to think and reflect on.

    Given how I was hurtling through the space between space, how I was no longer in the Dimension I started, how the explosion was tearing across reality, I realised the explosion was far too big. I hadn¡¯t taken part in the making of Atlas¡¯s Godmaker, nor did I know it¡¯s specifications, but even the larger theoretical design couldn¡¯t have contained this much energy.

    The surrounding energies, both magic and Wild energies must have undergone a chain reaction, ignited by the initial explosion. If that was the case, Atlantis was the worst possible location for the device to have been destroyed, a city or magi in the Wild Dimension saturated in both energies.

    Knowing this didn¡¯t change my current situation in the slightest, but I was an academic, knowledge didn¡¯t have to have purpose to be worth discovering.

    I¡¯d said I¡¯d have time to think, but what I really had was too much time to think. There was only so many times I could reflect on my life or my current predicament. I found myself slipping more and more into what counts for sleep in this disembodied state and letting myself dream. The dreams were strange, fragments in startling clarity of events and places I had never seen. Memories of things I had never experienced. Some I had experienced, albeit from a different perspective.

    Memories devoid of the context that grants them meaning. I spent hours, maybe days of ¡®wakefulness¡¯ trying to understand them. Trying to understand why I was dreaming them. I was almost afraid my mind was fraying the face of the long isolation I was facing. I found myself straining to hear the quiet half heard whispers drifting up from the recesses of my mind.

    As much as I wanted to hear what the whispers were saying, I was fighting them. Trying to distance myself from them, fearing a trap or my own slow slide into insanity. A stalemate formed, even as my dreams became more vibrant and frequent, the whispers were held at the ¡®edge of earshot¡¯ where I could not make out a single word.

    Even hibernating and drawing on the storm around me for energy, I could feel myself slowly weakening. If I continued to both fuel my barrier and fight off the whispers I would eventually waste away. If I released my barrier, I would surely be torn to less than atoms by the tempest.

    Slow death by wasting away, a quick death shredded to unimaginably small pieces or potential loss of sanity.

    Choosing option three wouldn¡¯t rule out the first two options once I was beyond reason, but option three wasn¡¯t as certain as the others and it came with the comfort of knowing that, at the very least I probably wouldn¡¯t be lucid enough to care.

    I¡¯ve never been much of a gambler, but I was going all in on the chance of winning a jackpot miracle. I ceased my resistance.

    The stalemate ended.

    The whispers rose into a cacophony of speech. Like the buzz of an entire city whispering, speaking and yelling at you. Yet it was only one woman¡¯s once a million times over.

    Silence.

    Revelations.

    Understanding.

    The whispering voice that had once been the other, a stranger, was now a part of me. A merging had occurred. The voice and I were now one. I was still Cleta, born in the Iberian Peninsula, first disciple of Atlas, Leader of the Resistance, but I was also Athena Pallas, daughter of Zeus among many siblings, a Goddess from the Olympus divine family.

    Or at least a large fragment of her.

    Just as I could remember looking on as Cleta, summoning my barrier as the wave of chaotic energy surged towards me, I would also remember the wave consuming me as Athena, only to spit out a part of my core as shrapnel. There was millenia of memories from both lives and all I could do for now was sift through them, cataloguing what came from each part of me and work out what-, who I am now.

    * * *

    It is strange.

    It was only after I had undergone my apotheosis that I truly knew who I had been beforehand. The nature and character of my former self. Despite my flaws, the biases I had accumulated during life, the untold mistakes I have made, the wool Atlas had pulled over my eyes, I was a person who loved my craft, a person who loved and sought the accumulation of wisdom and knowledge, loved to teach, a person with a strong sense of justice, even when it was misguided.

    Knowing this I now believe my two selves only merged because of the similarities in who we are. Perhaps my shard collided with me for that very reason. Perhaps with my body destroyed and the core of who I am damaged, I sought out what I felt was most familiar.

    It is weird thinking about this, both those lives are mine and yet I was once two different people. Two different types of existence.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    * * *

    It is funny how finding yourself can change the way you look at a problem.

    For most of the trip so far, in my barrier, I had been like a ship without sails or oars caught in a storm, waiting for it to deposit me on some distant shore. That was however no longer the case, this ship now had a sail and something was finally happening.

    Gods are different from mortals. As aspectals, they begin life as an ideal given form by magic and the mass consciousness of living things. Once fully formed they can mature on their own and change with time, but their link to mass consciousness remains. They can gain strength from it and can resonate with places linked to their image and aspect, whether it be a sacred ground, a place of worship or an embodied depiction of them.

    Stretching out our, my, senses we had detected a cluster of resonances and treating it like a lodestone, I let it draw myself towards it.

    I had thought it would be harder, but it seemed like it was already in the path of the shockwave. We just can to align myself in the wave where it would wash over the point of resonance and pray we would not be dashed upon it like a ship on rocks.

    For the span of less than a second, a great blue and green orb appeared out of the storm before me.

    Then everything went white.

    From the whiteness emerged a ceiling of storming clouds flashing the lights of the weapon¡¯s tempest and below it the skyline of an immense city. I was hovering in what appeared to be a park situated in a district of multistory red brick buildings. Even ignoring the buildings, the shape of the land and it¡¯s horizon was nothing like the lands around Olympus nor any of the islands or lands surrounding the Aegean.

    This was not where I expected the resonance to take me.

    The statue directly below me was probably the reason, it was a statue of me. Well a statue of Athena, the only statues of Cleta disciple of Atlas that I knew of, had been in the city of Atlantis.

    Is it possible to be jealous of yourself? Apparently yes. A side effect of the merging and a sign I had yet to acclimatise to this state of self.

    The statue even had the helmet I was wearing. I hadn¡¯t even realised I was wearing it till that moment, or either the silver breastplate over my robes and the Aegis hanging off my back. All of which was quite convenient given the chaos that was erupting around me.

    With all the noise it was like I was back at the battle for my home city again. Harsh repeating wails reminiscent of warning bells and a sound like the sharp crack of many whips snapping in succession rang out across the city that I found myself surrounded by. Along with the crashes of breaking masonry, the rumble of thunder and the roar of some great beast.

    Outside the park, a metal self powered carriage with flashing lights raced down a road of what looked like black rock that had poured molten and allowed to cool.

    Humanity had created an Atlantis of their own and we had brought our own ruination to it. The energy waves of the Godmakers explosion may have not torn this world apart but it had done something and given the mix of magic and wild realm energies that it comprised of, I could guess the possible implications.

    The twisting of reality directed only by the unfocused gestalt of millions, no, billions of minds.

    A dragon of immense size rose up from behind the city¡¯s towers and let loose a flaming roar as it flew up into the clouds. I had to wonder if we had brought it here or had the storm birthed it.

    Following its example I let myself levitate into the air, it was time to do battle.

    I had a city to save.

    * * *

    Disappointed I stopped?

    You expected me to recount all of my first night back on Earth?

    There is no need.

    You all saw it, you were there.

    Ruined bits of Atlantis were transposed all across the world.

    New Islands, mountains, rivers, lakes, seas appeared.

    Creatures of legend returned, either carried by storm¡¯s waves or woken from millenia long hibernation.

    People were altered by the empathetic energies that washed across the world, many becoming the monsters there were inside, some becoming the heroes needed to meet them and others gaining something they always needed.

    An apocalypse staved off by the efforts of a few noble champions, leaving this world and its society to limp on and adapt to its changed circumstances.

    For me, I faded into the shadows as the sun rose again and then watched and learned. Magic makes a wonderful toolkit. In a day I learned the language, mongrel bastard of many parents may it be. In a week I managed to disguise myself and build an identity among the masses of  humanity in New York city.

    Tricked a few banks and their computers into generating accounts and the funds I needed to start over here.

    I found a job working in a college library, a perfect way to learn about the world and make an honest living. I found myself a nice brownstone to live in and adopted a shelter cat. I was actually content for a time. Yet¡­

    Many of the Emerged heroes from that night returned to patrol the streets, helping people and fighting wrongdoers. I had not and people were asking where the Athenian magic-user they had dubbed Magistrix Pallas, had gone.

    Was it fair for me to retire into obscurity after my part in the cataclysm we had wrought on the Wild Dimension, that had engulfed Earth? Someone guilty of uncounted crimes allowed to live out my probable immortality in peace?

    No.

    I was, I am sorely in need of redemption. If that is at all possible? I know now, the truth of our arrogance. The lie of our belief that we need to rule over and protect the rest of humanity.

    In our absence, the absence of magic, of gods, their servants and the myriad of creatures empowered by magic, humanity had flourished. Sure they were still learning,they made mistakes, they had their problems and were yet to find necessary balances, but they had done all this with their own strength.

    Our absence had helped more than our presence ever did.

    But now? Now we had changed the game, we had reintroduced that pandora¡¯s box and I had a duty to help. Help, not rule over, not protect them out of an arrogant sense of paternalism. Try to guide them away from making our mistakes all over.

    As Mystrix Pallas I set out to find and meet with those heroes, pretending to be just like them. They wanted to be heroes, some out of a desire to do good, others out of a desire for fame and recognition and a few out of a desire to prove that Emerged were a force for good, to fight against a growing undercurrent of bigotry and fear.

    Most just wanted to do their own thing, laws, politics and public opinion be damned, but there were a few from the very start who saw the need to band together. It is funny how much the people of this world frown on the idea of a union. Is banding together in order to combine your strengths and gain the power of a collective, something wrong here?

    The few of us that saw its value managed to convince others of the need to strike while the iron is hot and people were still adapting the Emergence to make a union for heroes. To establish protections for our existence before any laws could be made against us.

    It was hard work winning over not just other heroes, but also lawmen and demagogues, I mean lawyers and PR folk, in order to control public opinion and to effect laws before they were passed, but also to protect us from weaponized legal proceedings.

    When the second shockwave hit earth we were ready and able to do our part to limit the chaos.

    The second shockwave was a message to the public and to governments that the world had changed and would continue to change. There would be no going back to a world and status quo from before the Emergence.

    Also as one of the only groups that was ready for a second Emergence it granted us a level of legitimacy. The Heroes¡¯ Organisation for Mutual Assistance and Resources or OMR for short was here to stay and expanding.

    * * *

    Again I return to my reasons for writing this. This letter, my memoirs, my warning.

    If I were to die this history might be lost and the world, without the lessons within, might be poorer for it. I don¡¯t want Earth to repeat our mistakes, I don¡¯t want one branch or another of humanity to become invested in the idea of its own superiority over the others again.

    There is more though.

    I am afraid the destruction of the Godmaker may have unseen consequences aside from the Emergence. I am afraid of Atlas, the chance that he or any of his followers might have survived, that they might have been carried like I was to this world or another like it to start their mad schemes anew.

    I should be handing a copy of this letter to every authority on this planet, so that they can understand why the Emergence happened and so they can be prepared if my fears come to pass. Instead I am filing this letter with my lawyer in the OMR as a part of my will in the event that I die. It is because I am ashamed.

    Ashamed of my part in this tale and afraid if this truth got out, people would see me, not as the hero people believe me to be, but as the monster I am.

    If you have managed to make it this far, thank you. Thank you for reading this.

    Regards

    Cleta Athena, Mystrix Pallas

 Authors note: Discontinuing updates on Royalroad. Sorry.

    Ok this has been brewing for some time...

    Originally I followed my partner in life and writing Quiet-Valerie to this site so we could share our ideas and stories with new readers.

    Overtime our stories (especially Valerie''s, see reviews on Kammi Kettu) have encountered a level of unwanted and continued hostility from certain groups on this site with little to no intervention or help from the mods of this site.

    Since then we have branched out to other sites such as scribblehub and found them to not only be a more positive place but also benefit from a more cooperative moderation team.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    In the months since I had argued against discontinuing our presence here, but unfortunately recent events have revealed the mods of this site are more preoccupied with pedantry and the removal of encouraging reivews than fostering postive enviroment.

    The first chapter of Arc 3 is already on patron and will soon be uploaded on all sites we publish with aside from Royal Road, that said we do not plan to remove existing chapters from here yet.

    Sorry for the inconvience, I hope to see you on Scribblehub. https://www.scribblehub.com/series/44189/songbird--a-kammi-kettu-story/</a>

    Thank you for your Readership

    Regards

    Trashlyn