Inferno Blade: Guardian and Champion

[notbirdofprey]

The two of us sped across the rooftops. Swan Victorious seemed as cheerful as ever, dancing across buildings like a ballerina, leaping high into the sky and practically hovering at the apex. She swooped and she soared and she spun and she acted like everything was fine.

Maybe some of the people down below, cheering for us, were fooled by the display, but I doubted she had shrugged off the events of earlier so easily. If I was smarter, maybe I could have helped her, but instead I simply ran alongside her, taking refuge in the rush of the wind around me and hoping for another miracle.

Even as I worried about her, part of me was also chewing on the prospect of meeting other Guardians. If I had known about the meeting earlier, I could have done some preparation. Maybe I could have written up some notes or asked Karl to tell me about them. But no one else had wanted to delay things, and I had no desire to be the lone dissenting voice on something as petty as that.

It took us perhaps twenty minutes to cross half the city. I suspect we had left behind a few footprints, but it probably wasn't a big deal. They made roofs to withstand heavy blows from above, or so I assumed. Anything else wouldn't work for the kind of winters we got sometimes.

And even with that short travel time, we weren't the first to arrive. There were a few individuals scattered about the abandoned prison, all of them rather flamboyantly dressed, but it was the building itself that caught my eye. I had only seen it a few times, mostly in photos, but the thick concrete walls and squat towers had always radiated solidity and superiority. It had been built to last, every inch of the complex imbued with the confidence that the order it had been made to uphold would last forever.

For as long as I could remember, people had wanted to demolish it and turn the place into a park or graveyard, but it always endured.

And then in a few short hours, a day at absolute most, it had been torn asunder. The mighty walls that had withstood countless attempts at vandalism and years of brutal winters had been shattered in dozens of places. The guard towers slumped over like wounded soldiers. The gatehouse roof had crumpled in. The cell blocks were burst open from the inside out.

For decades, nothing more than spray paint and snow had made an impact here. And now it was forever transformed.

Swan alighted atop one of the ruined towers, while I came to a halt among the rubble in the middle of the gatehouse. And I turned my attention away from the buildings to the people scattered about it.

None of them seemed together, and none seemed inclined to approach, so I chose to keep my distance as well. Swan slouched into a resting position on her perch, and I remained in quiet watch, studying my counterparts.

My attention was drawn to one in particular because he was playing a harmonica. Little bubbles shaped like musical notes drifted from it, popping in bright flashes of light that stung my eyes. He had found a stool somewhere and perched on it in the corner of the courtyard, happily playing away with his eyes closed.

Karl broke into my thoughts to inform me he was Magical Guardian Musical Isle, then he subsided and left me to my observation.

Musical wore a bright white tuxedo with slashes of scarlet and gray running along the suit and a matching top hat perched at an angle on his head. Long brown hair speckled with salt and pepper peeped out from under the hat, and he had a neatly trimmed square beard.

He also had blazingly bright viridian eyes. They fascinated me, they tempted me to go over and introduce myself. Instead I flopped down on a boulder, head hanging upside down as I watched him. He seemed lost in his own world and utterly at peace. I found myself reluctant to disturb it.

So instead I waited as more arrived. They perched throughout the courtyard, each with their own unique outfit. Most were unrelentingly bright and colorful, and all were eye-catching. They were proud and cheerful, justly happy with the victories they had won, even as I saw many who's joy was mixed with grief.

Their attitudes enraged me. My blood boiled with anger at those upbeat attitudes, when this world was so full of suffering, when we had allowed so many to die. I scolded myself for it. We had all done our best, and the misery of others was no reason to be miserable myself. And most importantly, I was redirecting my rage again.

With difficulty, I choked down the angry, vile things I wanted to scream, just in time for the last Guardian to appear.

They came in silver and blues so pale they were almost white. It hung around them like a fog, occasionally parting to reveal glimpses of pale brown skin and a sliver cloak made of layers of tassels, all dancing in a non-existent breeze. Karl identified them as Magical Guardian Ghostly Defiance. Their gaze swept across all of us, and then they spoke.

"Everyone seems to be here. Or at least, I don't think we are missing anyone."

At that, another stepped forward. He was dressed in a bright green and purple jumpsuit patterned like snakeskin, the colors somehow avoiding clashing.

"Alright then. I'm Guardian Serpentine Shield. It's a pleasure to meet you all properly, and I'm so glad you all came to this talk. There's a few things I want to cover, and of course if any of you have issues you want to bring up, this is an excellent opportunity."

He offered us all a bright smile and moved on without pausing for breath. "The first thing I wanted to bring up is engaging with the media. We're the number one story in the country right now, even if a lot of people are skeptical about who we are and whether we're real. I expect we will be getting plenty of opportunities to present ourselves, and we need to make a good impression. Let's all try and do that. No swearing, be polite, say nice things about each other, and -"

Swan sat up on her perch and hollered down "We're not in fucking kindergarten, dude!"

He pressed his lips together, and I stepped forward into the silence. This would make an excellent distraction from my fury.

"That's a fair point. But also, there's no guarantee we actually want to work together. I personally think we should, and if we form some sort of organization, having media guidelines that assume a certain amount of intelligence is fair."

A lot of people were looking at me all of a sudden. I licked my lips and shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat (part of me wondered if they had been there before), but I kept going.

"If not though, if we just want some sort of informal association or nothing at all, this is a bit silly."

A Guardian in a suit of what looked like power armor made from a rainbow of crystal shards suggested we hold a vote.

At this point the Musical spoke up. "I look around, and you know what I see? Individuals. Proud, unique individuals. So why are you all trying to stifle that? I say we go our own way, stand on our own two feet!"

Serpentine cut him off, stepping forward, with a casual wave of his hand. "Looks like I put the cart before the horse, yeah. The vote is a great idea!"

I found myself glaring at the two of them, but I let Serpentine run the vote, counting raised hands. The organization won decisively, with only Musical voting against it, much to my surprise. I wondered if perhaps the Familiars were putting their paws on the scales. Karl had definitely implied that I would benefit from the establishment of a Guardian organization.

Despite his defeat, Musical stayed in the ruined prison, spinning his harmonica in his hands, watching us all with eerie intensity. Again and again, I found my gaze being drawn to him as the rest of us spoke. We agreed to a much more reasonable set of rules for talking to the press, and my suggestion for the name - the Guardian Collective - proved popular enough. We started talking about how we should actually be organized, what our goals should be, even where we should meet. Nothing was formalized, nothing set in stone. It was just a lot of idle conversation. Pleasant, certainly, but I was beginning to get impatient.

There was plenty we needed to organize, but actually bringing that up proved aggravating, especially since Musical kept interrupting to toss in snide commentary.

But then Serpentine dropped a bombshell.

"During the incursion, I tried to arm the police with Alliance weaponry, and-"

He was going to say more, but I had heard enough. Sudden fury swept through me. My head pounded with the sheer force of my anger.I leaped to my feet, on the verge of violence. For an instant, my knives glittered in my hands, before I forced myself to sheathe them.

"Why would you do something like that?"

I wasn't the only one angry, either. Ghostly took a step forward, as did a couple other Guardians, and a series of heated arguments broke out amongst the circle. Someone shouted about how they hadn't seen a single police officer during the fight, and then a ringing in my ears drowned out everything else. All the while, Musical watched us, his lips quirked up in amusement. For an instant, I met his gaze, and found myself growing even angrier.

Serpentine held up his hands. "I- look - I didn't give them-"

But I was not having any of his excuses. I wasn't going to start a fight, but I was going to let him know exactly what I thought of his decisions and attitude.

And I was sick and tired of holding back! I stormed across the ruined prison, magic crackling in my blood. I could have called up my Crimson Spears and pierced him through, or armored myself in scorching flame and burned him to ash, or brought down a hurricane of star-hot fire and steel. But instead, I gritted my teeth and glared at him.

He met my gaze, and I saw confused anger in his eyes. Sharp-edged scales began to rise from the ground, shifting in intricate patterns, concealing him from me. "I'm not going to hurt you," I promised.

"I just want to explain to you why what you did was so terrible."

I will admit that I probably wouldn't have believed me either.

People were shouting, Swan leaped down behind me, feather in hand, several Guardians were retreating from the chaotic argument, and Musical was sitting in his corner, harmonica hanging loosely in his hands, cackling like a madman.

Fortunately, before things could escalate further, the closest thing we had to authority figures intervened.

Karl's mental shout had enough force to make my ears ring.

["Benny! Stop! It's not what you think!"]

I could see other Guardians flinching, even Musical, and the hazy outline of dozens of fantastical creatures appeared in my vision.

I shook my head, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. Much of my anger subsided, although a core remained, roiling in my gut. And then I apologized.

"Let me be the first to apologize. I have no excuse to offer, except that I think these past couple days have been...difficult. Nevertheless, I should not have gotten so angry, not without letting you explain further."

I swallowed, and inclined my head at Serpentine, gritting my teeth as I did. The words did not make me feel any better. Though I was still seething, I did my best to direct it properly. My fellow Guardians were not the ones who arrested me, not the ones who fired me, not the powers of this world.

Serpentine met my gaze and offered his own words.

"Right, well...I am sorry for how I behaved as well. Anyway, the police were incredibly cowardly and refused to fight, even after I offered to supply them with anything they would need. They effectively abandoned the city. And I kinda punched the chief of police in the face."

I flushed as I realized how badly I had messed up, and gave another apology, but before more could be said, Musical played three bright notes on his harmonica. A shiver ran over me, and I found myself compelled to turn to him.

With a jaunty grin, he spoke up. "Well, that was unfortunate. Now, to show there's no hard feelings, why don't we blow off some steam with some friendly sparring?"

I could think of no reason that would be a bad idea. A look around showed me everyone else agreed, and then Serpentine smiled.

The two of us seemed to have the same thought, and pointed to Musical.

"You first!" we shouted, our voices separated by only half a heartbeat, and then we sprang forward, the ground cracking beneath our feet.

 

[notbirdofprey]

Serpentine was closer and faster than me. He had moved just a fraction of a movement before I did, but the gap between us only grew as we flashed through the air.

I could see Musical Isle's dull green eyes popping wide open as some sort of strangled squawk tried to pour from his mouth. His surprise might slowed him, our sudden attack might have confused him, but whatever else he was, Musical was a Guardian. He sprang to his feet, harmonica stretching into a heavy flute, and he held it up, clashing against the two fang-shaped daggers Serpentine had struck at him with.

I landed mere inches from the two of them and cut out with both my daggers, thrusting them towards Musical's side. He pivoted, body bending with impossibly flexibility to evade my stabs.

Then he whipped his flute forward and upward, smashing the butt of it into Serpentine's chest with enough force to knock him into the air. He flicked it down, its front end cracking against the top of my skull.

"Come on, little children, surely you can do better than that," he taunted.

I met Serpentine's gaze again as I shook my head, trying to drive away the dazed feeling. And again the two of us launched a nearly-simultaneous attack. Serpentine kept one fang close to his torso, in a position to guard, dropping into a low stance and kicking out with one foot while stabbing towards Musical's groin. I simply sprang forward, slashing with one knife, but mostly relying on momentum and shock.

Musical shifted into the kick somehow and let it swipe his legs out. He fell to the ground, rolling under my stabbing tackle and away from Serpentine's stab. In the instant before the two of us collided, I saw a chance to avoid the impending impact. I also saw a chance to land a blow.

I decided to trust my comrade. Serpentine would make sure we were able to recover. And I hurled out a knife.

It whistled as it cut through the air. Musical was rising back to his feet, caught in an awkward half-crouch. He didn't have time to dodge.

So instead he disappeared.

My knife flew through the air where he was, and bounced off a crumbling wall. I spun around, my other blade held at the ready to knock aside the inevitable counterstroke, but none came.

There was a long and awkward silence.

Serpentine coughed and started to say something, but Ghostly interrupted him. They had made a thick fog around themselves, and were staring at us through it, their eyes just barely visible.

"Something very strange just happened, when that guy disappeared. It was..."

They fell silent, and no one else spoke up. Everyone was watching everyone else, tense and jumpy. We were waiting for someone to lose their temper, for Musical to reappear, for something, anything to happen.

But there was only the grinding weight of confusion. Only empty air.

Finally, Serpentine spoke up.

"Fuck that guy!" he spat out. "Who the hell does he think he is, acting like that?"

"I think he might have done something to our minds. Karl, can you tell us anything?"

My Familiar reappeared, and he spoke into our minds, his voice gentle.

["I believe that is correct. He was using some sort of magical spell. It's good that you were able to recognize it. More I cannot say. I can't remember anything about him. This is...concerning."]

"Thank you, Karl, alright. So, this might be wrong, but I think whoever he is, he's trying to keep us from working together. Anything like this, he'll show up and make trouble. So we need to lure him out."

I grinned wide and hungry. "So, why don't we sit down, chat, get to know each other. And I'll explain my plan for dealing with this renegade."

As frustrating and insulting as he had been, especially with the way he had effortlessly trounced me and then escaped before I could even land a counterblow, there were some advantages to this. I might have to rely on my own resources for projects instead of drawing on everyone's, but he had attacked all of us. And there was nothing quite like a common enemy.

We had numbers and we had communications, and we were not going to let him get away again.

My plan was pretty simple, all things considered, and there were no objections, but plenty of refinements. Serpentine laid out a display they had, stretching it out until it covered half the courtyard, showing a top down view of Thiva. We could see ourselves on it as a rainbow blotch, and scattered instances of magic from items we had given out. We sketched out divisions of responsibility, chatted about our lives, pointed out workplaces and favored bars. Perhaps an hour drifted by as we sat in the sun.

A couple of loose agreements were made, beyond my plan. To not seek out our identities, to keep an eye out for new Guardians, to avoid arming the police. And I mentioned my hope to use points to for things bigger than personal weapons, although I hid the true scope of my ambitions.

"We can make food, we can build houses, we can cure any illness. I can't do it for everyone and everything, but I can do it for some. And I intend to."

I suspect you would not be able to become a Guardian if you would reject a concept like that. Even when I expanded on it, and explained my intention to purchase something that could make stuff for people instead of buying the stuff directly, no one batted an eye.

Instead, people started to drift away, exhausted from the unexpectedly intense meeting and needing to return to their lives.

We shook hands and exchanged hugs and promised to back each other up. Ghostly pulled out a pen and paper and gave me a phone number to call. "You have big dreams, I can tell. I hope you keep them alive," they said to me.

"Same to you. People tried to kill my dreams before. I think they'll have a much harder time now."

Slowly the number of Guardians dwindled. Swan slumped in a corner, insisting she was fine every time I asked. All the while, she stared at nothing in particular and picked at the surface of her skirt.

"Do you want to try some practice?" I suggested, and got nothing but a disinterested grunt.

"I would be open to it, if you like," a familiar voice said.

I turned around and found Serpentine Shield standing stiffly, head up and back rigid. He hesitated, and then added, "I think we got off on the wrong foot, but we worked well together."

I shrugged. I still felt antsy and angry in a vague, directionless way. I didn't care much who I worked with, as long as I had someone.

"Do you know any boxing or anything? It might be a good place to start."

I showed him how to stand and how to step, how to pivot so your weight was behind your punches. He learned fast - I barely had to smack him across the skull to remind him to keep his hands up.

As he grumbled after the third or fourth whack, I shook my head. "When I first started, I was getting hit every ten seconds. You are doing well, man. Soon you'll be a heavyweight champion!"
He laughed and told me he wanted a chance to hit back. I saw a glimmer of interest in Swan's eyes as she looked over to us.

"You want to ref?" I offered.

She hesitated, and me and Serpentine both started cajoling her. Soon, she agreed.

"Ready...when my shoe hits the ground, you start!" she told us, loosening the straps on one.

Me and Serpentine stepped back until there was about twenty feet between us. I expected her to flip her shoe off, or just drop it. Instead, she kicked it up.

And up. And then up some more. I tilted my head back, and was able to barely glimpse it against the light of the sun.

It started to plummet down. I kept one eye on Serpentine, who was slowly inching closer to me, and one on the falling shoe. It looked like it was going to land pretty close to me, or maybe even...

"Ouch!" I hissed, and then Serpentine was on me.

I sprang backwards, landing in a cloud of dust, struggling to regain my balance. He didn't let up, throwing jabs and crosses as fast as he could. They landed hard as I held my arms up, taking bruising blows as best I could.

There was no time to think or plan. He hesitated for the tiniest fraction of a second and I shifted my weight to my left in the gap he gave me. A punch whizzed towards my face, glancing off my cheek. My head snapped back, and I barely managed to stay on my feet, but it wasn't enough to defeat me.

My punch was weak, my angle off, my stance unsteady. But none of that matters when you are driving an uppercut into someone's solar plexus. His head flew forward, his torso bent back, and he let out a great whoosh of air.

And with one hand he swung out at me in a desperate haymaker. I stepped into the strike and rammed my forearm into his.

Serpentine had the right idea, earlier. When you have the upper hand in a fight, you don't let up.

"This is just a sparring match," I reminded myself, resisting the urge to finish him.

Instead, I stepped back.

"Good work, let's take a break and talk about how you did!"

I had a lot of compliments for him, and only a few scraps of advice about not getting tunnel vision and learning to read an opponent, the sort of things that can only come with time and getting punched in the face.

He checked the time and said he had to go.

"I'll see you around," I told him, and then he pulled me into a very surprising hug.

Despite what some might report, I did not squawk like a chicken in a thunderstorm, or any other sort of bird in any condition.

After extracting myself from the unexpected but not unwelcome display of affection with great dignity, I said my own goodbyes.

Then me and Swan departed. Once more taking to the roofs and enjoying the rush of the wind in our faces, we moved fast. This time, Swan didn't want to stop and perform, and I let her take the lead on that.

"I'm going to go see my friends once we get back and I detransform," she told me, between one leap and the next.

I bit down on the objections that immediately rose. It was probably a good sign that she was going out to spend time with friends. She didn't need me hovering over her, right?

So instead I asked if she would be able to find her way by herself, if she needed money, and then we hopped down into an alley, detransformed, and she walked off. I watched Ella go, trying to convince myself I was handling things well, and then I trudged up to my apartment, feeling drained.

I had so many things I needed to do. I needed to get a grocery list together, start looking for a new job, check how much money I had for the month and see where I could cut some loose for Ella. I needed to start making more concrete plans for saving lives and how I would handle all the details. And I needed to talk with Karl about who the mysterious interloper was and about how I had fallen asleep at the mall but up across town.

"Hey, how much for a machine that can just make food out of magic or something?" I asked Karl.

Food was a good place to start. Everyone liked food. As I asked him, I flopped down onto my bed, wincing at the unyielding mattress, and took out my phone.

["You currently have about 1800 points. You could unlock the Tier 1 Automated Industrial Equipment Vault for 500 points, and then there would be a variety of options."]

I started looking through my bank account, wincing at the numbers I saw there. "How did I get so many?"

["Aside from closing a second Reality Tear and taking part in extensive conflict, in which you saved many lives, you helped defeat an incursion that could have devastated the world. You, and all Guardians who participated, were rewarded for that."]

I wondered if that included Musical Isle. Then I dismissed him from my mind. I did not have the energy to worry about that right now. I fought down a yawn and started thinking about what expenses I could afford to cut. There wasn't much...maybe I could start working in construction? I bet there was plenty of damage that needed fixing.

"Tell me about my options in the vault," I instructed Karl.

He hopped up on the bed next to me. I felt the warmth of his body against mine.

His voice was softer than before, gentler.

["We don't need to go over this now. But if you insist. If you wish to create a sort of automated garden, you could purchase a small-scale model for 300 points. The only human intervention required would be to place it somewhere it has access to sunlight and occasionally empty the storage containers of produce. There are cheaper versions, but they would require more work. Alternatively, you could purchase a magic-powered food synthesizer..."]

He snuggled against me as I spoke, and I fought to pay attention to what he was saying.

I lost.

It wasn't even a contest.

A/N: Sorry about missing a week, the job search is a terrible and miserable thing

 

[notbirdofprey]

Musical Isle paced back and forth across his hidden shelter. The accursed Guardians were continuing their plans, plans that would see all the world disrupted and destroyed. Their success could not be allowed. He must defeat them. He must. He must.

Musical sensed his thoughts starting to circle and pulled away from them. It was clear he could not succeed, not with them united in their wickedness against him. He would try and pry them apart again. He would. He would.

But he needs to grow stronger, to become better. He has no shortage of power, but he needs more. He needs more. He needs more.

And as Musical paces across the crumbling concrete, he studies the artifacts he has collected, property won by strength and struggle and ancient ancestry. He knows this with certainty, even if he does not know exactly how he knows. He does not question it. He doesn't.

Amongst the scattering of artifacts are many useless things, and one invaluable. He knew exactly how to work it, how to wield it. With the Creation Engine, he would triumph over the accursed Guardians.

He would make monsters, to drain the energy of humans and the magic of Guardians. It would not harm them permanently. He is not evil. He is not. But he must triumph, and he knows the only way he can do so is if he becomes stronger. And the only way he can become stronger is through the Creation Engine. It is the only way. The only way.

The power of the Creation Engine flows around him, into the item he selected for it. A simple needle. And from that needle grew a creature.

Out he sent it, giving directions, and they navigated across the roofs of the city, cloaked by illusion and misdirection. He didn't know where the directions came from, just that he knew where to go. He knew exactly where to go.

Into a park the creature drops down, disguised as a woman selling sewing needles, her eyes glinting metal. Those who pass by are pricked, and they find themselves slumbering. There's a pack of girls, chasing each other about. "Ella! Ella! You're it!"

The needle creature passed by them close. Musical sighed as he felt energy flow into him, strengthening his magic, teasing at his memories. Dormant functions in his mind begin to awaken, suppressed programs began to reactivate. He understood who he was, how he was made, what his purpose was. He looked up to the sky.

And from one of the fallen girls he heard a cry of rage.

His head snapped down, his eyes tore themselves wide open. There before him stood a Guardian, pointing a massive feather at his creature. "What did you to do?" she demands.

"Creature! Needler! Destroy her!" Musical commands, the name pouring from his lips.

And just as she transformed, from whatever her baseline form is into a thing of magic and might cloaked in a feathered tutu, so too does the creature. Its skin fades away, revealing bones of cylindrical metal, coming to ends at razor sharp points. It's face is thread wrapped around and through the eye of a needle, and each finger is tipped with a claw.

"Needler! Needler!" it cries, lunging for the Guardian.

And she simply skips away. "You monster! For the harm you have done, I, Swan Victorious, will end you!"

She brandished her feather at it. The fight began. The tip of the feather swept down with the inevitably of a falling axe and clanged against one of Needler's metal arms. The side bit deep and Swan Victorious used it as leverage to hurl herself into the air, releasing her grip on the feather and dismissing it from the world.

Needler gestured and summoned dozens of darts, each one trailing a thread. They moved swiftly enough to punch through steel, the threads were thin enough to slice into stone. The Guardian dodged the needles, but the threads wrapped around her, tangling against her skin, and Needler grabbed the ends of each thread, slamming the trapped Guardian against the ground.

"Now Needler! Show her your might! Destroy her!"

But Musical's command is premature as wings of black and white erupt from back, from her arms, from each other, slicing through the bonds restraining her as she rises to her feet. "I won't let you hurt anyone else!" she roars.

And Musical does as his instincts command him. In a twist of energy, he vanishes, returning to his domain.

He has left behind a park full of sleeping people who will soon awaken, frightened and confused, and a Guardian enraged and terrified. He has escaped with a bounty of energy. He does not know why he needs it. He does not know where he comes from. He knows what he must do. And that is enough. It has to be. It has to be.

He collapses onto the floor, unconscious, fresh instructions entering his mind as he lies on the unyielding concrete.

Entities beautiful and alien, speaking to him from distant cities and proud towers, see what he has done, and they make their judgements.

Hours later, Guardian Musical Isle awakens, shivering and alone, hurting in ways he cannot describe.

His mission shall continue.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alexander Sheffield sat back in his chair (an antique leather armchair that once sat in the White House) and considered the reports on the screen (custom-made using the latest technology) in front of him. Information scrolled across it - feeds from local and national news channels and reports from his subordinates, with the occasional dash of social media. Typically, it contained nothing of great interest, merely greedy powerbrokers scrambling for his favor and jealous fools seeking to destroy him, but today it was full of what most would consider a grand hoax. An armada of monsters ripping holes in space and assaulting a near-backwater in upper New York.

Alexander, however, was no small-minded simpleton. The evidence before his eyes was coming from too many sources, from too many skeptical, intelligent sources, not just the frothing, moronic masses that dominated the world. It was not fake. It could not be fake. But Alexander had not gotten as far as he had by making assumption. He picked up his phone (specially-designed to be unhackable, only unlockable by his DNA, and with a battery life measured in days) and made a call.

"Mr. Sheffield! What can I do for you?" a voice full of panic greeted him.

"Mayor Higgins. I am seeing...unbelievable reports. Some are saying its an alien invasion. What do you say?"

"Well...Mr. Sheffield sir, it's certainly an unusual event. I wouldn't say aliens though..."

"You have no reason to be nervous, Mayor. Events like this are nothing more than an opportunity. After everything is settled, announce some celebrations for your populace, reform the police so they can handle such things, bring these so-called Guardians into line...you will have my full support, as always. I trust you to do what is best for the city, just like I trusted your predecessor."

Alexander could practically hear the man nodding over the phone. They exchanged a few pleasantries, meaningless words about the ramifications of the invasion on the broader economy and then he dismissed the mayor. And made a note to consider increasing his investment in the man's opponent. Higgin's spinelessness was useful, but it was also intensely aggravating.

Now he needed to do some work. There would be a board meeting within a week, and he would need a plan to take advantage of the coming economic chaos. He scrawled down a few ideas - mass purchases of damaged property, getting government contracts for new bases and weapons, and of course taking advantage of the inevitable flood of change in the stock market, and then he scanned the slip of paper and sent it off to assistants (the scanner read the paper, turned his handwriting into plain text, printed a copy on the other end, then destroyed all the evidence it came from him). They would doubtless have many of their own ideas to add to his, and with the boost to his company would come new opportunities.

Eventually. It would doubtless take time for those to appear, but for a man of his character and intelligence, success was inevitable.

Alexander decided he had done enough for the day and strode out of the office. He dismissed his secretary when she asked if he needed anything and made his way into the heart of the manion.

Sheffield manor had been in the family since they had come over from England. It had been left to rot for generations, then restored by his grandfather as a way of getting away from urban decay and social upheaval. Every Sheffield since him had expanded upon and improved the ancient building, turning it into a place of incredible splendor, luxury, and taste.

Alexander made his way to his favorite part of the house, the first addition he had made. He stepped down a narrow spiral staircase (the steps were covered by imported French carpet, the walls mahogany panel polished daily and lined with gold), ignoring the security measures, which automatically concealed themselves in his presence (security cameras, motion detectors, pressure sensors, and more, monitored 24/7 by separate human and AI networks), and stood in front of a massive vault door.

Unlike the other security features, there was no concealing this one. It was a massive slab of steel, thicker than some people, kept closed by an array of electronic and mechanical systems. It scanned his palmprint, read his DNA, accepted the code he entered, and the vault slid inside smoothly.

The space inside was larger than some of the homes his companies rented out, but he only needed one room today. Another secure door opened for him. Inside was his prized collection.

He picked up the first piece, a voodoo doll he had purchased on vacation in Hawaii as a child, and smiled honestly for the first time that day. Clutching the doll, he walked up and down the rows of occult items - ancient tools of ritual purchase from dig sites and mysterious books acquired from shady auctions. Most, he expected, were nothing but junk.

Alexander believed in the impossible, but he was self-aware enough to know it would be hard to find. But surely, amongst this vast expanse he had so much time and money on, there would be something for someone as important and powerful as him. Surely he would find something verify his beliefs, something valuable.

That had always been the case in the past. By skill and hard work he had ascended in power and influence. Enemies had been crushed, dissent had been quashed, a better world built for all on the back of his genius. The few as brilliant as he had been allies or rivals, and they competed in every arena conceivable. But he had always known he had been more than even the greatest of his peers, and now he was sure he would find a chance to prove it.

As he walked the rows of his collection, he found a shard of black material that he did not remember purchasing. It sat between two ancient artifacts. Without hesitation, he reached out, picked it up, and examined it.

Whatever it was, it was cool to the touch and smooth, almost like plastic. He held it up to the light and pondered it. It reminded him of the images he had seen, of the ruptures in the world. He pressed a finger against it and winced as the jagged edges drew blood.

Like a story read from a book, an image appeared in his head, of his last visit, of finding the object and picking it up and drawing blood once more, mere days before this invasion.

A careful study of the artifact showed that it was humming imperceptibly. Were he a lesser man, he would suspect this was all in his head. But Alexander knew better.

At last, he found what he had been looking for all his life.

A pity he could not truly tell anyone about it. There was no one else who would understand.

 

[notbirdofprey]

I awoke having somehow bent to my left and twisted to my right. My legs were tangled in my sheets and I was shivering uncontrollably despite the warmth of the summer day. Karl was curled up against my side, nose and eyes tucked under his tails. I moved like an old man as I untwisted myself, wincing slightly whenever I moved too fast and wondering why magic powers didn't come with some sort of way for me to not have to deal with this.

Gradually, as I lay there in the stillness of my room, the blood flowed smoother and things stopped hurting. I murmured some vague, angry sounds. Waking up in pain had just become part of my routine at some point, but it never stopped being annoying

Throughout my movements and mumbles, Karl had remained still and silent. I reached one hand out and hesitated, before I touched him as gently as I could.

His fur was softer than cotton, and his legs twitched. I pulled away, and then he rolled over, lying on his back, tails splayed out, front paws held above his chest. His belly was exposed, and a sudden surge of memories rushed through me.

My father's dog had laid just like that. He loved it when I rubbed his tummy, his tail would wag and his leg would thump against the floor. He had been such a good boy.

I started to reach for Karl, then hesitated. As tempting as it would be to rub that cute, fuzzy belly, it wouldn't be right. He wasn't a dog. And even if he was, he was one that was still very much a stranger to me.

Before I could pull my hand back, his eyes lolled open and he looked up at me.

["Go ahead. I picked this form because it was 'cute.' I may as well take advantage."]
I hesitated for a moment longer, then let my hand fall. Gently, I moved it in little circles around his stomach. His tails swayed back and forth and his mouth popped open, a long white tongue falling from between two rows of very sharp teeth. And then his legs began to kick.

["Mmmm...little to the left,"] he sighed contentedly.

I spent a few minutes rubbing his tummy, and then with a wistful noise made myself stop. Karl let out a little whine of protest and I tried very hard to ignore the way his tails stopped wagging.

"Sorry, buddy, but I do have things I need to do today."

He rolled over onto his paws and stretched, delicately licking his hands and then springing onto my shoulders.

["I suppose you do. Training or helping people? I doubt it's going to be anything else."]

"Huh? I was planning on getting some people fed. There are a few soup kitchens I know who would kill for the stuff you described."

He nodded. ["Very well. Afterward, I would appreciate it if you could make time to meet with Serpentine Shield and the other Guardians.']

I hesitated, then agreed. "I suppose we did end on kind of an awkward note. Hopefully, Musical Isle doesn't show up. What was with that guy?"

As I spoke I was slowly getting dressed, not really paying attention to what I was throwing on. I would be going out transformed no matter what.

["I genuinely have no idea."] Karl told me.

My stomach rumbled and I stuffed a slice of bread into my mouth. I would eat something proper later. Everything I needed to do was done, and I could go now. "Come on Karl, let's go!" I called to him, and then I began to run.

The carpeted stairs shook under my feet as I sprinted down them, dodging a few other tenants on my way. In the time it took me to blink, I was across the parking lot and in the hidden little alley.

"I probably am not as subtle as I think I am," I commented, and then I began to transform.

Energy washed over me, driving away all the concerns of my body - the hunger, the ache, the budget, the job search. Every bit of misery I endured vanished. My veins ignited and raw power coursed through them alongside my blood. Warmth suffused my flesh.

It was the greatest thing I had ever felt.

After what seemed an hour and was really an instant, the feeling faded into the background and my transformation was complete. Karl hopped up onto my shoulders and wrapped himself around me.

["You could be less subtle. For instance, you could run around screaming that you are the true identity of Inferno Blade."]

I pressed a hand over my heart. "You wound me, Karl," I told him, then I jumped up to the rooftops.

"Any thoughts about how I could...not do that? I really don't want to deal with paparazzi or spooks trying to cut me open and see how I work."

["First of all, don't take your cell phone when you transform. I can link your calls and texts into the earpiece you have and constantly forget to use. I can manage them for you, or you could purchase an AI to help with that."]

"Cool. I think you can handle it. You've probably seen everything there," I said, a trace of bitterness suffusing my voice.

["...']

Karl wanted to say something, I could tell.

"What?" I asked, irritated. "I already know my cell can be tracked. If I was doing something illegal, I would've put it away. I just need to get into the habit," I told him.

He settled down.

["Adequate,"] he decided.

"Glad it meets with your approval. Come on now, we have people to feed. Open the Vault you mentioned, and be ready to get the food synthesizer."

It was getting late now. Shadows stretched across the ground, and people hurried home. No one wanted to be out in the dark, not if they could help it. Even so, there were dozens of businesses that glowed in the descending night and scattered packs of people. I found one especially large one clustered around my destination: the North Thiva Community Shelter.

It was a squat block of concrete in between two empty lots they were slowly turning into gardens, loosely fenced with rusted chain link and painted a pale blue. A light hung over the main entrance, illuminating dozens. Some of them had the look of the perpetually homeless, while others seemed better off except for the stunned despair on their faces.

I also noticed a man standing off to the side holding a rifle. That was new. He was doing his best to be unobtrusive, but he was too tense to pull it off. I had seen first-time undercover protestors more relaxed.

I leaped from my rooftop perch and landed between two rows of green things, rolling with the impact and springing to my feet. And I saw the barrel of the gun pointing right at me. Instinct demanded a reaction and I was unable to disobey. A Crimson Spear lashed out, no thicker than an eyelash but as wide as three fingers, and I sliced the gun in half. The man let out a yelp and dropped it, and people began to scream and scatter.

I really hadn't thought things through.

"It's alright, it's alright, I'm a Guardian!" I shouted, but no one was listening.

Someone clanged metal together, making a sound like an angry bell. The noise was loud enough to cut through the panic. An uneasy half-silence began to replaced the shouting and shoving. I saw someone, holding two pans, shoving their way forward.

Almost immediately, I recognized her. "Cel-"

Karl whapped the back of my head with one paw. ["Be subtle!"] he reminded me.

I nodded slightly and stood straighter. "Ma'am. Are you in charge here? I came here to offer some help...I didn't mean to startle people. I am sorry about that," I told her.

She was about to say something, but I held a finger up. "And of course I'll replace or repair anything my carelessness damaged."

I had hoped to make a good first impression, but...that seemed unlikely now. I dropped my hand and let her speak, smiling just a little sheepishly.

"Well...it's good to see you coming to volunteer. We're honored to have you. What did you have in mind?"

I hesitated, and then I decided to go for broke. "Karl, remember the things we talked about? I want two of the gardens and one of the food printers."

Immediately, three large boxes appeared behind me, dropping to the ground with a trio of deceptively quiet thuds. I ripped open the smallest and lifted up the contents, a black metal machine with neon red runic patterns and glass insets that showed spinning systems of silver spheres. It was surprisingly light. "This baby can output a thousand pounds of calorie dense, nutrient complete paste every day. Stick a bit in a stew or a soup or add it to a sandwich and you will make everything stretch much further and leave you much fuller. I'll need to come by once a week to recharge it, at least until something more permanent gets set up," I told her, translating Karl's dry numbers into something much more useful.

Celia blinked, and I smiled at her. "Is there room in your kitchen for this?" I asked, and she nodded eagerly, clearing a path for me through the crowd of hungry homeless people.

They parteed for me and I felt many eyes locking onto me. The gems on my coat shimmered brightly and shifted about on the fabric.

"Karl, are you doing something to my coat?" I hissed softly as Celia opened a door for me into the kitchen.

["Merely giving people a show to try and distract them from your smooth entrance. I wonder if anyone got it on video..."]

"At least I don't get al eager for tummy rubs," I murmured.

"Hey, why don't you show yourself? We can answer some questions from people while we hang around," I suggested, plotting revenge on my familiar.

Meanwhile, Celia dumped some pots into the sink and I set down the food printer on the cleared section of counter. "Just press this button," I said, matching action to words, and showed her how the front opened to let her access blocks of paste.

"So, is it just you?" I asked, looking around the empty kitchen and the long line.

"Given the...everything that's been going on, we're a little short-handed. Some more volunteers are supposed to come, but for now it's just me."

"Post a picture of me and let people know I am here and helping out. I bet that will get you some help," i suggested, and I looked over at Karl.

He lifted his head from my shoulder and gave me a little smile, then he appeared in a puff of black smoke.

Celia let out a little yelp of shock. "What the fu-"

"Sorry, sorry, this is just my familiar! He's friendly, I promise, he's even house-trained!"

Karl's tails swept slowly back and forth as he leaped down from my shoulders and gave me a look. I just grinned back at him.

Celia took a deep breath and put on a customer service smile that made my wince. "I am really sorry. I'm just..used to this. It's part of me, and I forget that its not for other people. I should be better than that," I told her.

Again, I cursed myself for not having the right words. Why was I like this? Why could I never explain things properly?

Her smile lost its retail sheen. "It's not been easy for anyone," she told me, and she shooed me out of the kitchen.

The path she had made through the crowd remained like someone had carved it out, and I walked through the corridor of people to stand out in the darkness. With a wave of my hand, I filled the air above us with glowing spheres of every color, bathing the block in light.

"Three requests for you all: Enjoy your meals, ask me questions, and put this all over the internet!"

I was honestly shocked no one had tried taking pictures of me already, or maybe they had and I just didn't notice. But I smiled and tried to seem approachable and waited for someone to start. And while I was at it, Karl did his part too.

He slid out from behind me and sat up, lookin soulfully at a nearby man in a filthy jacket with dull eyes and a face that hadn't smiled in years. "You can pet him, Karl is really friendly," I said

He wagged his tails so hard I was amazed he didn't blow people off their feet. The man cautiously reached down and held one fist in front of Karl's face. Karl rubbed his forehead against it and the man began to scratch it. He let out a quiet laugh and that broke the dam built up around me.

"How'd you find him?" he asked.

"He found me!"

"Will the monsters attack again?"

"Not if I can stop it!"

"Why did they attack? How come you all showed up right after they did? How can we trust you? Why are you here? How can I become like you?"

Question after question sped towards me, so many I couldn't make out the individual sentences and tried to answer as fast as possible. All the while, Karl capered about, soliciting head scratches and belly rubs from everyone he could. I saw quite a few people filming. About half had their cameras on him, and half had cameras on me.
People were slowly starting to relax around me, they were coming out with full bellies, and more people were coming by, some for the food and some for me. I started to ask people questions as well, and share things I had heard from people. A few of the stories were really about me, told like they were something I had heard.

"I've seen the world at it's worst. I've seen good people ground into nothingness, I've seen people starve and die for no reason but base cruelty. I have spent years trying to fight that tide, and every day it rolled in higher and lasted longer. Soon, i would have drowned, if not for this."

I raised my hand and let more glowing spheres rise into the sky.

"I was given power to fight monsters and defend people, to be a Guardian against the Hungry Things that sought to invade us. But I wouldn't be worth the name if I didn't try and do the same thing in other ways. And I want help doing this. I am not a god and I won't be a king. I'm not even a good leader. There are groups trying to do the same things I am everywhere. Help them, if you can, that's what I showed up here for."

Amazingly, no one interrupted me. I guess they weren't completely relaxed around me, or I would have had people shouting things at me before I got a sentence in.

But once it was clear I was done speaking, the questions started pouring forth again. Someone shouted at me "Who are you?"

I turned to face the speaker. She was a tall, pale woman, clutching her purse to herself and standing stiffly in the middle of the crowd.

"I'm Inferno Blade, Guardian," I told her.

She stepped closer to me. "I don't mean who the costume is, you little magic freak. I mean who you are under it. What gives you the right to fight and kill and make all these sweeping statements?"

She reached out, grabbing for my mask, and I caught her wrist.

"What gave me the right is the fact that it's a free country. I was doing this stuff for years, and it's not like I was the only one."

I let go and turned my back on her. "Anyone else have anything they want to know?"

As I kept answering questions, completely ignoring any attempt at trying to demand I take off my mask. The woman wasn't going away, and she kept shouting at me.

"I can't promise that the Hungry Things won't invade again. They almost certainly will, even if its probably not here. Me and my comrades will fight them no matter where they are, but I would encourage you to do what you can to help. Get to know your neighbors, make shelters, make plans and get organized."

I emphasized that people needed to organize themselves as much as I could, even as the crowd grew and the number of questions did as well. Karl was contentedly playing with some kids, doing all sorts of tricks and begging for belly rubs with soulful eyes. I left him to it.

Things were getting crazier than I could handle by myself and my Familiar was busy, so I ended up picking a few people at random to try and act as moderators. It didn't go too great, especially when more people started yelling for me to take off my mask and show my face, something I was not going to do. I had no intention of waking up in a CIA blacksite and getting vivisected.

But people were getting loud enough that I couldn't actually answer any questions. Everyone who was hungry had eaten, or at least I couldn't see anyone more going into the kitchen. Even with all the chaos and the people heckling me, I thought things were going pretty well. I was sure there would be plenty of footage of me on the Internet and that organizations like this soup kitchen would be getting a surge of support soon.

But I wanted things to end on a positive note.

So of course that was when someone blew a painfully loud whistle and shouted "Disperse! You are blocking traffic and do not have permission to be here! Return to your homes now, or you will be arrested!"