《Gods & Alien》 Prologue A young child lies unconscious on an examination table. A hovering monitor displaying her vitals in real time¡ªbeeping in acknowledgment of the steady rise and fall of her chest. As Doctor explains the readout to the father of the child, who looks like he would have been a nervous wreck, if not for his clear position of importance. ¡°What you are asking of me is impossible, Velkor.¡± The doctor says. ¡°You can not simply sever a specific ability. The effects it would have on the mind of the patient would be disastrous.¡± he advices. Velkor stands straight, hands folded at his back behind majestic robes. He looks unsure about his daughter on the table, eyes flicking steadily between her and the doctor stood by his side. ¡°Suppression perhaps?¡± he suggests and the doctor tenses. ¡°Anything at all so she can not use them anymore?¡± ¡°My Lord, she is hardly ... typical.¡± he settles on. ¡°I wouldn''t know where to begin.¡± he pauses. ¡°If she is as dangerous as you say she is--¡° ¡°Do not speak another word, if you are going to suggest I exterminate my daughter.¡± The doctor cowers in fear, eyes shifting to the ground in reverence. ¡°I apologize, your honor.¡± Velkor eyes the man beside him, considering a punishment befitting of his near irreverence, when a Palace guard interrupts, addressing him. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°My Lord.¡± He salutes quickly before offering a quick bow. ¡°The council requests your presence.¡± Velkor acknowledges the man with a curt nod. ¡°I will be along shortly.¡± he answers, eyes not leaving the child in front of him. ¡°They insisted I returned with you immediately, My Lord.¡± Viktor hums softly before turning to the Doctor. ¡°Guard her.¡± He instructs, before striding out the lab, guard in tow. Velkor is stood in the center of a room, Giant holographic heads scrutinizing him, The Council. A pompous egomaniacal jury who made life and death decisions under the comfort of anonymity. Convening with them was easily the worst part of his week, rendered even worse whenever he was issued a summons. ¡°I am handling it as we speak.¡± he grits out, fists clenching behind his back. It would be unseemly for a Sovereign to lose his calm. ¡°Our atmosphere nearly collapsed on itself.¡± the first head gruffs. ¡°The child is unpredictable, what happens next when she decides to throw a tantrum?¡± another adds. ¡°We are working on a way to safely rid her of her powers.¡± Velkor says. ¡°And if you cannot?¡± the first head thunders ominously. The only female head in the Congress assuages. ¡°You know what needs to be done.¡± ¡°Please do not ask me to kill the child, Councilwoman.¡± Velkor pleads, very nearly crumbling. ¡°We are not asking you.¡± She assures him, proceeding to shatter his heart with her next sentence. ¡°We are more than capable of assisting where you hesitate.¡± Velkor hurries in without the guard this time, his rapid steps startling the doctor. He smooths a hand down his clothes in a bid to regain his composure before asking. ¡°Is everything alright, My Lord?¡± Velkor ignores him, pacing the room a couple of times, face screwed in thought. The doctor traces him dutifully with his eyes. ¡°Memory erasure.¡± Velkor finally says, and the doctor is no less confused. ¡°My Lord?¡± Velkor simply gestures vaguely to his head in response. And the doctor nods in understanding. ¡°A temporary fix, but feasible.¡± He gauges, after a brief moment of mental calculation. ¡°How far back do you want it to be?¡± Velkor stops his pacing, pivoting to look the man square in the eye, jaw set. ¡°Blank slate.¡± Chapter 1 Alex peers at the wide little eyes staring back at her. A classroom filled with silent 7-8 year old Children, each face sporting progressively different looks of horror. She thinks she hears one child whimper in what is most certainly abject fear, and is starting to regret making an appearance. A child at the back of the class raises their hand¨Cthe universal sign for a question. One of the select few, who have managed to recover their wits. ¡°Yes?¡± The child involuntarily whimpers¨C¡±She killed them?¡± Alex frowns. ¡°Yes, I said that.¡± ¡°But couldn''t they just talk about it?¡± he asks, fists clenched, ¡°My Mum says, talking about a problem helps a lot better than fighting.¡± The child finishes, posture taut. And Alex gets the feeling he''s a disagreement away from stomping his foot on the ground in a tantrum. ¡°Obviously she tried to talk, the brother wouldn''t listen--¡± ¡°He could have tried harder!¡± And there the stomp was, except from a different child. A tiny little thing almost a head shorter than her classmates. Alex narrows her eyes at her. ¡°You didn''t raise your hand.¡± Her hand immediately springs up, face unrelenting. And Alex would commend her determination if she didn''t absolutely loathe her age group. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°I don''t like this story, it doesn''t have a happily ever after.¡± The girl sniffs. Alex feels her eyes twitch in poorly concealed anger, and has to remind herself that tossing the child out a window would certainly not be appreciated. She exhales. ¡°It''s a Tragedy, it''s not supposed to have a happily ever after.¡± Surely that would be easy enough to understand. A third hand shoots up as soon as the words are out her mouth. Obviously a second grade reading was a mistake. ¡°What now?¡± This child has to temporarily relieve his mouth of his thumb to speak. ¡°This story sucks.¡± Thankfully his opinion didn''t matter. ¡°It''s a current Best Seller.¡± ¡°Maybe it shouldn''t be.¡± And the first child was back again on the playing field. Alex narrows her eyes at him, about to say something about his crooked milk teeth¨C ¡°Okay children, why don''t we clap for Alex¡¯s wonderful story?¡± The teacher interrupts with impeccable foresight. Only about 3 children clap. One who for all intents and purposes was asleep up until 10 seconds ago, knowing nothing of the read. The teacher shoots Alex an apologetic smile, before addressing the children once more. ¡°Let''s all turn to page 4 in our coloring books, and color the very nice dinosaur.¡± Alex promptly exits the class, the teacher hot on her tail. ¡°I am so sorry about all that.¡± She pants, rushing to catch up with her. Alex decides to spare her and instead stops, the colorful hallway utterly nauseating to her. ¡°No, no it''s alright.¡± It wasn''t in fact alright, it was infuriating, but the poor woman seemed out of her depth already. ¡°Children, you learn to love ¡®em.¡± Alex forces out through grit teeth, hoping the lady doesn''t notice. The lady dips her head in an awkward nod, before angling a thumb at the classroom door behind her. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°I''m-- I''m going to go back. They can''t be by themselves for more than 12 seconds.¡± Alex nods in turn. ¡°Otherwise they tear the place up.¡± she surmises. ¡°No, actually it''s the school rules.¡± She replies deadpan. ¡°Ah.¡± ¡°Also they tear the place up.¡± And she has the audacity to chuckle satisfactorily. Alex raises an unimpressed brow, her most apathetic expression in place. ¡°Yea.¡± The lady grounds out before retreating quickly. And Alex continues her imposing stalk through the repugnant hallway and out school. She strides out of the building, cringing at a billboard of a movie poster right in front of the school. ¡®THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE OTHERWORLDLY¡¯ it reads. The actors on the poster sporting nonsensical looks. A bad parody of her best selling Novel. She is staring hard at the poster, willing it to suddenly go up in flames when her phone rings. She rifles through her numerous jacket pockets in search of it, dropping said best seller in the process. She finds the phone in the inner left pocket, glances at the caller ID with a wince before answering. ¡°Shit!¡± ¡°No, close though. It''s Chris.¡± The voice over the phone jibes drily. Self-depreciation. He was definitely angry. She pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration. ¡°Chris, I swear I lost track of time.¡± ¡°Yes, I figured that out when you didn''t get here 30 minutes ago, like you promised.¡± ¡°I am so sorry.¡± She bends to pick up her book. ¡°I had this reading at a school where my book ended up criticized by a bunch of 6 year olds.¡± She laments, the flash of a camera beside her causing her to startle. She turns to the direction of the flash and shoots the paparazzi her most wilting look. ¡°Do you mind?¡± She asks, and the look works yet again, because the loafer scampers away. ¡°Of course I mind, Alex, I''ve been standing here for 30 minutes!¡± Chris¡¯ voice crows from the phone. Ah. ¡°I am headed straight to you, right now, 30 minutes, max.¡± She glances at her watch while meandering through the car park. ¡°So your plan is to keep me waiting a complete hour?¡± Chris is still saying. ¡°Is this like the time¨C¡± She wedges the phone between her shoulder and ear, muffling what is sure to be a lengthy and frankly trifling tale of some random time when he felt he had been wronged. Storing her book under her armpit, she rifles through her pockets once more, this time whipping out her car keys. The muffling intensifies and she returns the phone to her ear with a sigh. ¡°Chris, I checked those bottles myself. Nobody added any water to your vintage wine collection.¡± Chris sputters. ¡°How would you know, you never tasted them!¡± he cries indignantly. ¡°I don''t need to taste them to know what vintage wine looks like.¡± ¡°I don''t care what you say, it tasted weird to me. Alex, if you''re not here in 30 minutes¨C¡± ¡°I''m standing right in front of my car, about to get in.¡± She jingles her car keys in the mouthpiece for assurance. ¡°Now, if you''d only end the call so I can drive¨C¡± ¡°That''s enough talking for now, you need to end the call so you can drive.¡± Chris interrupts. Alex shakes her head in resigned acceptance. ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°30 minutes.¡± He repeats ominously, followed by the click of the call ending. She tucks her phone back into her jacket, opening her car door to enter, before driving away.
Sometime before the Present ¡­ A girl walks down the street, hands tucked in her thick jacket in a clear bid to avoid the blistering cold. It isn''t snowing at the moment, but the thick clumps of the white substance on the street is a testament to the blizzard that was the previous evening. She stops in front of a diner¨Ceyes squinting against the neon sign strobing the diner''s name across the darkness of the night¨Cfocusing on a middle aged couple inside. The couple seem very much in love, for people their age, she thinks. She stares soppily for a couple of seconds more before walking away. Barely five steps from where she last stood, when the couple exit the cheap diner into a contrastingly expensive car and drive off, zooming right by her-- snobs. A couple of minutes later, Alex is stood on the empty street, head raised to the night sky, face angled contentedly at the moon, when all of a sudden, Police cars. One, two, three¨C an awful lot, zip by her all headed the same way. Curious, she steps into a nearby store for the news, stilling abruptly when she takes in the scene plastered on televisions nationwide. Footage of thick smoke clears to reveal a car dangling dangerously by the side of a bridge. Firemen struggling to put out the fire beside a nearly ablaze tanker. The thing having slammed into the side of the bridge, in a bid to regain traction after ramming into the sleek car. A familiar look flashes across her face on revelation of the car. The couple from the restaurant. ¡°... The passengers have been identified as Tech Billionaire Chris Jordan and his wife Lilian¡­¡± the Newscaster drones monotonously, and Alex contemplates. She has an internal conflict with herself for a solid minute, before deciding to step out of the store, and head the other way. Halting abruptly mid-walk, she digs the heels of her palm into her eyes, and exhales with a loud groan. ¡°What are you doing Alex?¡± She questions herself, almost waiting for an answer before deciding against it. Best to do this before she started to weigh the pros and cons. She sighs heavily before breaking into a run, towards the accident scene. Chapter 2 ¡°I want it done again.¡± A voice booms, reverberating across the near empty room. A timid Professor quakes in his boot, his rumpled lab coat clutched tight against him, like an armor against the verbal gunfire. ¡°Sir, I strongly advise against that, we are down to our last F-15.¡± He adjusts his glasses, pushing it deeper against the ridge of his nose, psyching himself up to proceed. ¡°I don''t know where the hell that thing came from, but I can assure you, it was never meant to be merged with human technology.¡± By some miracle, the General only spares him an indifferent glance, before repeating¨C ¡°Again.¡± ¡°That thing has blown up every last piece of technology it came in contact with.¡± The Professor erupts, ¡°I have tried my very best¨C¡± He is cut short by The General seizing him by the collar of his lab coat, his legs very nearly lifting off the ground. ¡°You''re not being paid to try. You''re being paid to give us results.¡± The General grounds out low, directly into his ear. ¡°And we have been here for 6 months, yet we still haven''t gotten any.¡± The Professor struggles against the General¡¯s grip. ¡°I-- I''m trying¨C¡± ¡°My patience constantly wears thin as the seconds go by, Professor. And when I''m all out of patience, I am a very ugly man.¡± He huffs out, eyes dilating in pure, unrefined anger. A sergeant approaches the general warily, sheet of paper in hand. She sounds unsure even as she salutes. ¡°Sir.¡± The General inhales and exhales, crazed look abating from his eyes as soon as he blinks his eyes open. He begrudgingly puts down the shaking Professor, making an effort to straighten the rumpled fabric of the man¡¯s lab coat before turning to the sergeant. ¡°At ease.¡± The sergeant visibly relaxes. ¡°The reports you asked for, sir.¡± She hands the General the sheet, who accepts it with some leftover venom. ¡°Update?¡± ¡°It took some extra digging sir, but it was a perfect match.¡± She relays excitedly. The General grunts. ¡°I wish I could be surprised.¡± ¡°We''ve acquired the item you requested. It''s en route as we speak.¡± She adds. ¡°Would you look at that?¡± The man drawls with a pointed look at the Professor. ¡°It''s good news all round.¡± The Professor cranes his neck to get a better view of the sheet in the General''s grasp, eyes first widening before narrowing in skepticism. ¡°That''s impossible.¡± He declares, eyes still fixed on the paper. ¡°I know it''s been a while since first year Biology, but this is¨C¡± ¡°Turns out nothing is actually impossible, Professor.¡± He places his hand on the Professor''s shoulder. ¡°On that note, I look forward to nothing from you but good news this time.¡± He squeezes the shoulder, indicating his thinly-veiled threat, before leaving abruptly. The General makes an immature face at the General¡¯s retreating back, before belatedly remembering the sergeant beside him. He clears his throat. ¡°Where exactly was this asset spotted?¡± ¡°Surprising enough, at a coffee shop, in California.¡± She shoots him a knowing smile, before taking her leave as well.
Alex screeches to a halt beside Chris, doubled over and panting for breath. She inhales deeply one last time before straightening to catch the look he is giving her. Perfunctory and astute. She in turn observes the bags under his eyes, the goatee he has refused to shave off despite her incessant prodding. Mid-life crisis, Akio had called it. Except Chris was in fact not in his midlife, and was instead a 65 year old man. ¡°It''s 3:32.¡± he says nonchalantly, after a surreptitious glance at his watch. Alex drops the wheezing and panting act. Shoulders straightening in the acceptance of being caught. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°You were supposed to get here at 3:20, that was 12 minutes ago.¡± Chris scolds lightly. She produces an almost crumpled bunch of flowers from somewhere, offering it to Chris in penance. ¡°I had to stop for flowers. And park the car.¡± He raises a brow at the flowers. ¡°Why are you breathing like you ran a marathon?¡± ¡°Because you threatened me, Chris.¡± He turns away from her, still not accepting the flowers. ¡°It''s not my fault your cardio''s shit.¡± The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You''re gonna cuss in front of Lilian?¡± Alex huffs out, gesturing with the flowers to the tombstone they are stood in front off. LILIAN JORDAN. WIFE, MOTHER, FRIEND. Alex lays the flowers on it. ¡°She would make an exception if she were here.¡± Alex cracks a smile, a secret thing. ¡°You okay?¡± She asks, eyes still on the tombstone in front. ¡°I''m fine.¡± He doesn¡¯t sound as convincing as he thinks he does. And Alex scrutinizes him for a moment, not buying his bullshit. ¡°Want a hug?¡± She says finally, and he scoffs. ¡°If you want a hug Alex, all you gotta do is ask.¡± Alex nods, interpreting the words only she knows how. ¡°I''d like one then.¡± They embrace, a lone tear Alex pretends not to see slipping down Chris'' eye.
Sometime before the Present ¡­ Alex walks into the kitchen¨Cheadphones over her ears¨Cto find Lilian rummaging through the cabinets. She rips the contraption off her ear and rushes to her side, sensing the impending doom. ¡°What are you doing?¡± She puffs after snatching a pot that would have smacked Lilian square in the head away, mid-fall. ¡°Pots. I can''t find the pots.¡± Lilian grumbles sweetly. And Alex eyes the lone one in her grasp, before informing her. ¡°Bottom left cupboard.¡± Lilian reaches for the cupboard, eyes lighting up at the substantial amount of her quarry. ¡°Oh. You are a lifesaver Alexandria.¡± ¡°Mm-hm.¡± Alex intones. ¡°What exactly do you need them for?¡± ¡°For the dinner I''m making.¡± Lilian answers, proceding to fill the large pot she retrieved with a considerable amount of water. Alex tenses. Lilian cooking was a bad idea. Zero stars, did not recommend. Your small and large intestines would appreciate the omission. ¡°Um, Gideon makes dinner. She emphasizes. Strongly. ¡°Where''s Gideon?¡± her head whips to and fro, as if Gideon were a frightened animal hiding in the cupboards. ¡°Gideon called in sick, so we have to make do with the next best thing. Me.¡± Lilian lugs the half-full pot of water to the stove, and Alex winces at the mere thought of whatever would brew in it. How did one put this lightly? ¡°Yea but, you can''t cook.¡± ¡°I know. That''s why I have the YouTube on my phone over there, telling me what to do.¡± She waves a ladle at her phone, buried under a small mountain of spoons, and Alex seizes. ¡°Okay¡± she plucks the ladle from Lilians grasp, and turn the stove off. ¡°Perhaps I should cook dinner. It¡¯s been a while anyway.¡± ¡°Do you know how?¡± Lilian asks, eyes wide. ¡°Um, Fran?ois Massialot and I once served a spread Philippe I, Duke of Orl¨¦ans couldn''t resist.¡± Alex boasts, rolling up her sleeves ostentatiously. Beat. ¡°I don''t know what that means.¡± Lilian says. ¡°Yea, you wouldn''t.¡± She chuckles. ¡°Is there anything you don''t know?¡± ¡°Actually.¡± Alex peeks her head out of the fridge to consider. ¡°Emojis.¡± Lilian¡¯s chuckles mutate into a full belly laughter. ¡°Do you need any help?¡± ¡°No, I think I''ll be fine.¡± Alex replies, dropping an armful of vegetables straight from the fridge into the kitchen sink. ¡°I''ll leave you to it then.¡± Lilian turns to leave. ¡°Do yell if you need any stew advice or anything at all.¡± ¡°I promise.¡± Alex says, turning to the spoon landmark and remembering in the nick of time. ¡°Lilian? Don¡¯t forget ¡®the YouTube¡¯.¡±
Chris and Alex are still standing in a tight embrace, when Chris notices the General stood under the shade of an oak tree, from the corner of his eye. He is in stood in parade rest, glint in his eye and a squeamish man by his side. Chris breaks the hug. ¡°What?¡± Alex asks, noting the discomfort in his eyes. ¡°We''ve got company.¡± He inclines his head at the men under the tree. Alex turns to look. She squints. ¡°I didn''t know you invited friends.¡± ¡°I didn''t. Stay here.¡± He instructs. ¡°I''m not a child, Chris.¡± ¡°Alex.¡± Chris looks peeved. ¡°Please, just give me a minute.¡± ¡°That''s 60 seconds, and I''m counting!¡± She yells at his retreating figure. As Chris walks toward the unwanted guests, he recognizes the squeamish man as a Professor the army poached from his prospective hires a couple of years ago. He¡¯d been impressed by the young man¡¯s theses and overachieving accomplishments, hardly getting a chance to meet him before he was whisked away by the army. The man is clutching a very pretentious bouquet of flowers in hand, colors and arrangement exceptionally wrong for the occasion. He stops right in front of them, hands tucked into the pockets of his black pants. ¡°Let me see if I understand this.¡± He starts. ¡°You followed me to the damn cemetery?¡± The General shrugs in what Chris suspects is poorly hidden elation. ¡°You are a hard man to reach.¡± ¡°What is it you want?¡± Chris asks sternly. ¡°You know what we want.¡± The General replies, and Chris frowns. ¡°I told you, I''m retired. Not that I''d help you even if I wasn''t. But, sadly, I am.¡± The General hums inattentively, eyes trained on Alex in the far distance. ¡°Is that your kid?¡± Chris¡¯ jaw tightens, and he immediately turns to leave. ¡°I think we''re done here.¡± ¡°That''s a shame. And here I was hoping we''d have a civil discussion. ¡° The General interrupts, his smug tone halting Chris¡¯ strut. He nods at the Professor, who pulls out a sheet of paper from his briefcase and hands it to Chris. ¡°What is this?¡± ¡°Something you definitely need to look at. ¡° Chris narrows his eyes at them, before begrudgingly accepting the paper. Patting his pockets unsuccessfully for his reading glasses, he resolves to snatch the one off the Professor''s face. He squeaks. ¡°That''s mine ... okay.¡± Chris skims through the paper for a bit, plastering on a bitter smile before taking the glasses off. ¡°Really now?¡± ¡°You know, I had hoped it wouldn''t come to this. But we really need your help.¡± The General says, faux sincerity dripping from his lips. ¡°So what, blackmail as a last resort?¡± Chris sneers ¡°This is happening one way or another Mr Jordan. Personally, I''d suggest you choose the path of least resistance.¡± The man turns once again to Alex at the far end of the field Chris grimaces at the silent but blatant threat. One last menacing look at the heinous man before him, he turns to leave-- ¡°We''ll see you bright and early Monday morning.¡± The General calls to Chris¡¯ retreating figure. ¡°Uh, My ... glasses.¡± The smaller man stammers, wincing as Chris tosses both the letter and his spectacles in the trashcan nearby. ¡°It''s alright I have a spare.¡° A black SUV with tinted windows rolls in front of them, The General practically manhandling the Professor into the car. Before entering himself with a self-satisfied smirk. The car drives off, Chris stalling for a while, before walking back to join Alex. ¡°That was a whole lot more than 60 seconds.¡± She scrutinizes him as he approaches, clocking the general silence and furrowed brows. ¡°Are you alright?¡± She cranes her neck at where he last was. ¡°Where are your friends?¡± ¡°I''m alright. They couldn''t stay.¡± Chris says, shaking off his despondent demeanor. ¡°By the way, I''m going to need a lift home.¡± Alex scrunches her nose in disapproval. ¡°Where''s your car?¡± She looks about the place for the second time in two minutes, and her eyebrows furrow. ¡°How the hell did you even get here?¡± Chris purses his lips, never one to turn down an opportunity to mystify Alex. ¡°You know, now that I think about it, I have no idea.¡± He turns on his heels, heading towards Alex¡¯s car, Alex trailing behind him, a fed up look on her face.