I think it was supposed to have been something like the locker incident but without the biological material.
Wildbow's a guy, any bullies he may have had were probably guys, and it's unlikely they'd get ahold of a locker full of used tampons.
Scaling Up
- Thread starter Kryslin
- Start date
I think it was supposed to have been something like the locker incident but without the biological material.
Wildbow's a guy, any bullies he may have had were probably guys, and it's unlikely they'd get ahold of a locker full of used tampons.
Crazael
Rehydrated Demon King
- Location
- Lost to the vagaries of time.
Witness to is not the same as subject to. Really, i can believe he saw someone stuffed into a locker at some point, and that the locker had some bad stuff in it, and that he took that and made it much worse for his story.
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
Yes, people have and still do on rare occasions get stuffed into lockers. However, as Wildbow describes the event, it wouldn't really be possible. I mean, for one thing the locker is suppose to be filled with fermented biohazardous waste. The school's janitorial staff would have discovered this before any students were allowed into the school. Taylor is described as being taller then average and slightly over weight as well. This means she would not have fit into the locker. Sophia is depicted throughout the story as not being that much stronger then Taylor, just more aggressive. This means that Taylor should have been able to resist being shoved into the locker. And that's assuming the locker is a full sized one, rather then the half sized (or smaller) ones that were common back in 1994.
Born in 1990, I am the very DEFINITION of a 90's Kid. My first I Feel Old moment came when I was at the local library looking at an art piece that was on display that was made from a short bit of 2x4 painted white and had a cassette tape glued to it, with the tape itself pulled out and laded flat so that it was one big black mass that was then cut in to the shape of someone's head, as I was looking at it when some mom with their kid walked up when she turned to them and ask as she pointed to the art piece "Do you know what that is?", felt like I aged 50 years right then and there.
Aaand I'm two years older than Leech.
Strange but true. By the way, @Trufla appears to be the Topper in the oldest category.
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
Tell me about it. The first time I found myself saying "kids these days"... Well, it was a little depressing. The only reason I haven't yelled at kids to "get off my lawn" is I don't have a lawn. Not that kids play outdoors anymore. Even in the summer the local parks and playgrounds are empty all the time. Sometimes I wonder what happened to our society that kids aren't allowed (or want) to play outside. But it was such a gradual change, it's hard to trace when it began.
Crazael
Rehydrated Demon King
- Location
- Lost to the vagaries of time.
For me, the biggest issue with the locker is that i cant imagine there not being shelves preventing her from being able to fit in the first place. But, the whole sithation is so over the top that I'm willing to just set the unreality of it aside for the sake of the story.
even beyond shelving being a problem, Taylor is on the tall end for girls. She shouldn't fit in a locker as far as height goes.
Lycanthromancer
The Arcane Fuzz
- Location
- USA
Oh no! Another one of ten thousand things about Worm that makes no sense! Someone hold me!
- Location
- Deep in the Badlands of Equestria
It's not completely impossible. My middle school, which was the high school building back in the late fifties to mid-60's for our area, actually had lockers that a skinny student could cram inside and close the door.
- Location
- Ylisse
Making us tied for youngest, depending on month.
Leechblade
Orientation Nitpicking
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
I'm not comfortable revealing anything else. Good to know I'm not the only millennial here though.
Lycanthromancer
The Arcane Fuzz
- Location
- USA
At least you're not a penultimate millennial.
You might find integrating into today's world rather difficult if you're over a thousand years old.
Crazael
Rehydrated Demon King
- Location
- Lost to the vagaries of time.
That's not hard. Ive seen the Millenial cutoff listed as early as 1982.
- Location
- In Ontario
Remember, growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional. 
Or in the words of Emgo the Freaking Geek, "You don't stop playing because you grow old, you grow old because you stop playing. Be a geek. Be proud. PALM IN YOUR FACE!"Remember, growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional.
"SAD PACMAN~!" - Emgo, Every. Single. Episode.
Not every episode. Only when he's reviewing stuff made by Bandai, AKA Kamen Rider and Super Sentai toys.
- Location
- SoCal
That reminds of a kids react to video I saw where they gave them a Walkman to figure out. You mean it doesn't make any sound without the headphones? You can't skip to the next song, you have to guess? Flip what over?
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
I wonder... if my brother watched Kung Fury, would he realize the thing the main character is surfing through time on is a Micro Computer from the 80's?
4.13 Rerum Fatiscit I
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
It was with quiet ceremony that Amy was released from the hospital. Carol was somewhat shocked to find out that her daughter – she was forcing herself to think of Amy as her daughter instead of as Amy – was widely respected by the medical community, and generally thought of as a hard-working, dedicated individual. Yet another low blow to my worldview, she thought sourly to herself.
Her SUV was just big enough to handle all the remaining gifts that people from across the country had sent, mostly the typical flowers and cards, but a lot of donations to the various charities that paid the travel expenses for those needing to be healed by Panacea, or in the very rare case, of paying Panacea's travel expenses to come to them.
The surprise had come in the fact they needed a rental van to take all the chocolate that people had sent – not only did Amy appear to have a lifetime supply of some tinkertech chocolate, there was the crate of top quality, premium, not usually shipped out of Switzerland chocolate. It wasn't hard to tell who had sent that, even if the boxes had no return address information.
Panacea had healed so many people that even the Nazis wished her well. Carol found that thought grimly amusing as they made their way home. Vicky had decided that she would fly Amy home with Sarah and Crystal providing an escort. While she doubted that there was anyone else who was that stupid, this was Brockton Bay, where sanity and calm considered thought were the exceptions, not the norm.
With Vicky keeping the speed down and sticking to the city street layout, they all managed to stay within sight of each other and made it home without incident.
"And that mess is finished," Carol muttered. "Now maybe we can find out what happened."
"Dear, let it go," her husband, Mark Dallon, gently chided. "Pressing her about it won't help matters." He was more in the here and now of late, with Vicky exercising far more control over her infamous aura than before, and a slight adjustment to his anti-depressants had helped tremendously in the last few weeks.
"I know, I know," she replied. "It's… part of who I am, what I do." There was a rueful smile.
"I think the silver streak in her hair looks pretty good," he commented. "Also, I think she's grown a little bit."
"I had noticed that as well," Carol said as they got out of the SUV. "Let's start with getting the perishable stuff inside first. Vicky!"
"Yeah, Mom?" She had already landed and gotten Amy inside.
"Let's put that strength of yours to work," she said. "Float or carry these into the house please." With that, she began handing her daughter boxes; large boxes that contained chocolate.
Just how much chocolate did they think one girl could eat, anyway? Carol amusedly thought to herself.
With a "Rrrrrrriiiiip!", she parted the fabric of her t-shirt down the middle of her back.
"Way too tight," she grumbled. She pulled out another t-shirt, this one a bit larger than the previous one. As a precautionary measure, she flexed her shoulders, making sure that it wouldn't come apart like its unfortunate predecessor.
"Vicky?" she called out, sticking her head out the door to her room.
"Yeah, Ames?"
"I hate to say this, and I'll probably regret it," Amy said, grimacing, "but I'm going to need to do some shopping."
"Eeeeeeeee!" Vicky's squeal of delight was almost glass-breaking. She floated out of her room, and set down in front of her sister, then looked puzzled. "Ames?"
"Yes?"
"How tall are you again?" Her sister nominally was a couple inches shorter than she was.
Amy then realized she was looking Vicky straight in the eyes, then sighed. "A couple inches taller than I was, obviously." She looked thoughtful a moment. "Hold that thought." She went back to her room and grabbed her phone, and then checked the time. Taylor should be out of class now, she thought.
A: Taylor, you there?
T: What's Up?
A: Got home from the hospital and...
T: That's good. And?
A: Nothing fits.
T: OK?
A: How much did you grow? 2-3 inches?
T: Officially, 3 inches.
T: Same thing happened to you?
A: Yup.
A: I did something I might regret, too.
T: What?
A: Told Vicky I need to go shopping for clothes.
T: You poor, poor, soul.
T: I'll call later, make sure you survive.
A: Later.
"Alright, then," Amy said. "We'll get things settled here, explain things to Mom," noting to herself that it felt odd to call Carol that, "and get some of the basics; shirts, pants, underwear, and I think a new pair of shoes."
From Vicky's pocket, her phone sounded in incoming message alert. She gave it a quick look. "Dean says the PRT has a couple of your 'Get Well' presents through the screening process. He can stop by and drop them off later if you want."
Amy wasn't surprised; any present coming to her from a parahuman source would have been run through a screening process, and pass some very strict guidelines. "Yeah, he can drop them off later."
Vicky replied to Dean's message, then actually looked eager to get to work. "Let's get your stuff brought in, then go shopping!"
Amy gulped. She had passed the point of no return.
Mark smiled a bit. "Which is why we're going order takeout."
"I cannot believe that Amy is thought so well of by so many people that they could cover our lower floor in flower arrangements," muttered Carol into her coffee.
"And all but one are potted plants," added Sarah. "The ikebana from South Brockton Imports was exceptionally nice, though the note from the PRT stating they had withheld part of it somewhat worrying."
At this point, Amy and Vicky entered the jungle of greenery. "Wow," exclaimed Vicky, "any more plants and we'll need a machete to move around the house!"
"Is that some jungle animal I hear?" came Eric's voice from the family room.
"Nah," Crystal replied, "it's only Vicky."
"Funny, guys," retorted Vicky. "Anyway, we discovered a small issue." With that, Amy stood next to her normally taller sister.
"Vicky," asked her mother, "Aren't you supposed to be taller than Amy?" At Vicky's nod, she continued. "What happened, then?"
"I think a side effect of however Naurelin resuscitated me induced a growth spurt," explained Amy. "I seriously doubt she meant for it to happen, or even knew it would happen." She knew that look on Carol's face; she wanted to take out her frustration on anyone who could be held responsible for what had happened. Since Carol could do more damage with the judicial system, she wanted to sue them so far into the ground they could see Behemoth.
"However, it does mean that I have a problem," Amy continued. "Nothing fits anymore. I've already split one t-shirt down the back, most leave my midriff exposed and my pants are starting to look more like capris." Amy sighed. "And thus, I have to ask if Vicky and I can go," and with that, she gulped, "clothes shopping."
Fortunately, they didn't have a repeat of Vicky's ear-shattering response, just a glorious smile.
"What do you need to buy?" asked Carol.
"Enough basics to get by, and to get me through to the weekend," explained Amy, "that way, I should have a better idea of what I need, even if it means going through my closet and trying everything on."
"Group of three," Sarah said, her tone brooking no argument. "Crystal and Vicky." At the mention of her name, Crystal joined the group in the kitchen. "Costumes on if you want. Any trouble, get Amy out of there and retreat back here, then summon help." The leader of New Wave sighed before continuing. "I have no doubt that once you're seen downtown, the PRT will have someone watching you from close by, so don't jump 'em."
"I understand," hedged Vicky. Her habit of 'Punch first, ask questions later' was infamous within the region.
Unfortunately for the girl, her mother knew that tone of voice. "Vicky, if anything happens, your job is to get Amy out of it. Understand?" Carol's voice carried the full force of maternal authority, something no teenager liked to listen to.
Vicky's answer was to simply nod her head.
They had noticed the various remaining gang members on the boardwalk clearing out as they approached, deciding to conclude whatever business, illicit or legitimate, somewhere else. If it went wrong, they didn't want it touching Amy, her cousin, or 'Collateral Damage Barbie'.
Vicky was concentrating more on keeping a lookout for trouble than trying to spend Amy's money, so her clothes shopping experience was relatively peaceful, though she did take a couple of her sister's suggestions and purchase some items that were a little better than just basic.
"Well," said Vicky, "I've noticed one PRT van, one BBPD cruiser, a Wards' Patrol, and a Protectorate Patrol since we've started shopping."
Crystal nodded. "Not to mention the Empire moving its business elsewhere when we came within a hundred feet, and several of the normal gangs moved out, too."
"We also passed Taylor somewhere in the middle of things," added Amy. "She was wearing some of her own merchandise, the 'Meddle not in the affairs of Dragons' shirt." That brought a round of chuckling from the trio.
"It's a good way to muddle the waters," Crystal replied. "How many actually wear their own merchandise?"
"I'm just enjoying the quiet," Amy commented. "Everyone staying a respectful distance and not pestering me has been nice. I could do without every store giving me a discount on everything, though."
"Hey, you're the respected healer, cousin," snarked Crystal, "deal with it." She gave Amy a grin then finished off her latte.
"I've got one more stop I'd like to make," Amy said.
"Where to oh fearless leader?" Vicky said, facetiously.
"The Doll House."
Crystal and Amy both clapped their hands over their ears as Vicky tried to break glass with her expression of delight.
After all, she was the only source in town for the shirts and pants with breakaway panels he preferred, and since she used the highest quality materials, firmly believing in 'Garbage In, Garbage Out', her clothes for him tended to last longer. Because she worked with several other cloth-based capes, she could get such exotic materials as fireproof synthetic silk and cotton.
"Hello?" Parian called out from behind the counter, "Can I help you?"
No one ever saw Parian's face. When in her store or out in public she was always in costume, resembling a Victorian porcelain doll. Today, it was the doll mask, a Gothic Lolita dress and the requisite platform shoes, and a flame-red wig.
"Err, yes," Amy replied. "I'd like like to commission some work."
"Ah, Panacea. Thank you for asking your sister to stay outside."
"You're welcome."
"What can I help you with?"
"I need a few things; I want a new version of my normal costume and some foundation garments made out of the most durable material suitable for the job."
"About bloody time," Parian muttered, showing definite signs of an English accent. "Is New Wave paying for the costume, or are you?"
"This is personal," was Amy's answer.
"Then I shall be glad to assist you," Parian answered cheerfully. "Let's go into the back and I shall get some measurements…"
"Pretty good," Amy replied. "The costume will be a duplicate of the original, so there should be no problems there, and the reinforced foundation garments should help when I'm in civvies."
"A bit expensive, isn't it?" Crystal asked, walking alongside Amy as they went back out on the Boardwalk.
"Eh, I checked my debit card balance," Amy said with a shrug, "and decided I could splurge a bit."
Well, let's see if what my power has been telling me is true, she thought to herself.
She focused a bit and felt her body change. Clothes changed to fit her new form; a pair of wings grew out of her back at the shoulders, and she sprouted a tail. Silver scales covered her body, her legs changed to a digitigrade stance, her hands and feet sprouted claws. Her neck lengthened, and her face changed. None of it was painful, and in truth was done in less than an instant; Her power allowed her to see all the changes made as they were being done, and she somehow had the feeling that it had eaten too much because there was the sensation of a burp.
Her chuckle at the image was an octave deeper than her normal voice. She flared her wings fully, craning her neck to see as much as she could. She could almost look directly behind her like this. This form had no hair, unlike Naurelin's mane of feathery hairs.
"Leap of faith time," she said to herself. She settled herself into a crouch, raised her wings, and then leaped into the air, bringing her wings down as she did so. She found herself climbing into the sky. With a cry of delight, she began a wide circling of the lake below, slowly descending.
She'd had enough examples of what not to do while flying from her sister that she was determined not to do them herself.
There was clapping from near the shoreline, where Naurelin was sitting on a tree. "Oh, bravo!" she said, clapping some more. "Much better than my first attempt."
Amy came in slowly, and flared her wings to kill her forward speed, and dropped somewhat clumsily to the ground. Amy bowed and then grinned. "Dare I ask?"
"Imagine 20 tons of dragon cannonballing into the lake," Taylor admitted. "The splash was epic."
From somewhere in the woods, another voice could be heard. "Taylor, where are you, I can--"
Amy turned to look at Natalie, who had just walked down the path to the lake. She was standing there, her jaw hanging open, a finger pointing at Amy, trying to make a sound, but not quite getting there.
"Err, Hi, Natalie?" the greeting was tentative at best, with a half-hearted wave and a sheepish grin.
"Augh!" With that, Natalie literally exploded out of her clothes. "When did you become a dragon?"
Amy switched back to her human form. "Last Saturday night, I think," she answered. Idly, she noted that she was dressed in a generic robe, with her ever-present friend, a pair of comfortable shoes.
"Confound it, daughter, where have you gotten to this time?" Sonngrad's voice could be heard as he approached the lake.
"Hello, Mr. Aleshin!" Amy said, waving. "How've you been?"
With great pomp and dignity, Sonngrad's palm and forehead met to continue their torrid love affair.
Tiamat was not amused. She had been enjoying some take out from a restaurant in Brockton Bay that claimed its nachos were so spicy as to make you breathe fire. She was suitably impressed with the spiciness, and indeed, the case of indigestion she suffered afterward caused an eruption of gas that had caused her to expel a jet of flame from her mouth.
Then, she had a visitor. One that required her presence, lest the creature got cheeky with her. No, only her full-on dragon queen form would do for this.
Sitting in the parlor was her visitor, who had introduced herself as Deirdre. Coiled like a snake, she awaited Tiamat's pleasure, four of her arms folded neatly on the table, and a pleasant cup of tea in one of the remaining hands, the saucer in the last.
"What do you want?" Tiamat asked, all five of her heads asking the same question.
"Dread queen of the dragons," the demon stated, after setting down her teacup, "I simply am here to deliver a message for my Lady."
"Continue, then."
The demon opened the scroll, her eyebrows disappearing under her bangs. Sighing, she rolled her eyes before continuing. "Tia, dahling!", she read from the scroll, exactly matching the voice used when it was written. "It's been ever so long since we've talked! I know a place that is simply fabulous over in Plague-Mort, the Slaughtered Lamb. I'll meet you there OK? Ta-ta!" The demon looked up at Tiamat before gulping in apprehension.
Fortunately, destruction was not immediately forthcoming.
"Tell Araushnee I'll meet her at the Slaughtered Lamb," she told the messenger. "Use that exact name. That will be your punishment from me."
"You got it," the demon said before vanishing in a puff of sulfurous smoke.
"What does Lolth want now?" she grumbled.
One of these was an inn and tavern called The Slaughtered Lamb. It apparently was run by mortals, yet despite various attempts in the past the place still stood, and still maintained its neutrality.
Tia had decided to go for the simple traveler look, nothing important here, nothing valuable to steal. The three pickpocket attempts so far had all ended in tears for the thieves, literally upended in the streets and spanked until they cried.
Thus, after a few minor delays, she made it to the inn.
Upon entering, she noted the bouncer, a bald man of average build and neutral expression, dressed in a yellow tunic and breeches. He saluted her with his flagon, acknowledging her presence. She cast her eyes over the crowd when a figure leaned out of a booth and waved at her.
She took her place in the booth, across from the avatar of Lolth, Demon Queen of Spiders. The last time they had talked, it had been more like a lot of roaring and spell casting from her, and a lot of screaming from Lolth as she discovered that Tiamat might be a goddess with no followers, but she still had most of her innate power. "I'm here, what do you want?"
"Did you really have to use my old name? Trying to break an innocent maiden's heart by bringing up memories of old lovers?" Lolth whined, trying to act a part she really wasn't well suited for. Her avatar hinted at sensuality beyond the mortal ken in every curve of her body, in every sway of her hips as she walked. Underneath that veneer, however, was insanity, depravity, and ultimately death.
"Neither of us has been innocent since the dawn of time," Tia said. "So drop the act and tell me what you wanted to talk about."
"Ah, so direct, so forceful." the demon hissed. "I thought I would give you some information, as an apology for our last meeting."
"Go on, I'm listening."
"An ancient foe of both of us is stirring. He has made his first moves in the world that currently has your interest. He intends to claim an asset there that I wish to deny him." Lolth sipped elegantly at a goblet of spiced wine. "I merely wanted to inform you of this."
"And what do you want from me?"
"Why dahling, I simply want to make sure that you or your servants don't kill the poor child after I claim her. Her abilities could prove useful, after all, but she really does need to be a bit older for my purposes." Lolth slid an envelope across the table. "I would read that well away from anything you care about." Her playful tone had switched to serious.
"Who is the unfortunate soul?"
"You'll know after I'm done." With that, she slipped out of the booth, and out the door.
Tiamat sighed, then finished her wine. It was going to be one of those days.
She had tried to keep her ability under wraps, but she was sure that sleazy Mr. Calvert had figured out what she could do, and was going to do something to her. Then, suddenly, still in January, the chance of him doing something unpleasant to her dropped to nothing, but the chance of something bad happening still remained.
In the last week, the chance of something happening had gone up until this evening, when it hit 98.6673%. She didn't know what it would be, only that something would happen tonight, and it wouldn't be good. She tried to relax, but even then, she'd been nervous and upset all day, and couldn't tell her parents; rather, she had tried to tell them, down to five decimal places, what the probability of what could happen, and they just told her, "We're adults, we know better."
Still, it had gotten her ice cream.
Now she sat in bed, her covers pulled up, waiting for whatever to happen, watching the minutes count down to midnight. "Chances are turning on my lamp will help me sleep?"
"Go ahead, if you feel like it would." The answer was not in her voice. The voice was sultry, which would make men of many races and worlds melt in the speaker's hands.
The light clicked on. Dinah soon wished she hadn't.
Her bedroom had been replaced by a starry void, with the perceived ground covered in mist. Over her bed spiders of all sorts crawled, and Dinah felt a frisson of fear. The speaker was cloaked in shadows, but she could see her face; skin as black as the paint her father used on his grill; bone-white hair. Her face was expressive, fine sharp features that could easily twist from amusement to cruelty in an instant. She could see two human-like arms, again with the black skin, covered with a tracery of silver and silk which reminded her of spider webs.
"Are you the one who is going to do something bad to me?" Dinah asked, strangely calm for all she wanted to scream.
"Yes, child I am. I like you; no pleading for mercy, whining about cruel fate." The stranger smiled at her. It wasn't a pretty sight.
"This is going to be something painful and horrific, isn't it?"
"Of course, child, why would it be any other way?" With that, an absolutely gigantic spider's leg pulled the blanket away, and Dinah finally saw the monster in all her hideous glory, half of her body being almost human, the other half a monstrous spider, the whole monstrous yet strangely beautiful.
"Before you do whatever you are going to do me, can I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"Who are you?"
"My name is Lolth, Dinah Marie Alcott, and I claim you as mine." As the last was said with a hiss, Dinah's world erupted in agony.
Her SUV was just big enough to handle all the remaining gifts that people from across the country had sent, mostly the typical flowers and cards, but a lot of donations to the various charities that paid the travel expenses for those needing to be healed by Panacea, or in the very rare case, of paying Panacea's travel expenses to come to them.
The surprise had come in the fact they needed a rental van to take all the chocolate that people had sent – not only did Amy appear to have a lifetime supply of some tinkertech chocolate, there was the crate of top quality, premium, not usually shipped out of Switzerland chocolate. It wasn't hard to tell who had sent that, even if the boxes had no return address information.
Panacea had healed so many people that even the Nazis wished her well. Carol found that thought grimly amusing as they made their way home. Vicky had decided that she would fly Amy home with Sarah and Crystal providing an escort. While she doubted that there was anyone else who was that stupid, this was Brockton Bay, where sanity and calm considered thought were the exceptions, not the norm.
With Vicky keeping the speed down and sticking to the city street layout, they all managed to stay within sight of each other and made it home without incident.
"And that mess is finished," Carol muttered. "Now maybe we can find out what happened."
"Dear, let it go," her husband, Mark Dallon, gently chided. "Pressing her about it won't help matters." He was more in the here and now of late, with Vicky exercising far more control over her infamous aura than before, and a slight adjustment to his anti-depressants had helped tremendously in the last few weeks.
"I know, I know," she replied. "It's… part of who I am, what I do." There was a rueful smile.
"I think the silver streak in her hair looks pretty good," he commented. "Also, I think she's grown a little bit."
"I had noticed that as well," Carol said as they got out of the SUV. "Let's start with getting the perishable stuff inside first. Vicky!"
"Yeah, Mom?" She had already landed and gotten Amy inside.
"Let's put that strength of yours to work," she said. "Float or carry these into the house please." With that, she began handing her daughter boxes; large boxes that contained chocolate.
Just how much chocolate did they think one girl could eat, anyway? Carol amusedly thought to herself.
- - - - - - - - - -
Inside, in her own domain, Amy was discovering that she had a problem. Nothing she had was fitting properly anymore. Pants were too short, shorts were even shorter, most of her t-shirts had her midriff showing, and the shoulders were a bit tight…
With a "Rrrrrrriiiiip!", she parted the fabric of her t-shirt down the middle of her back.
"Way too tight," she grumbled. She pulled out another t-shirt, this one a bit larger than the previous one. As a precautionary measure, she flexed her shoulders, making sure that it wouldn't come apart like its unfortunate predecessor.
"Vicky?" she called out, sticking her head out the door to her room.
"Yeah, Ames?"
"I hate to say this, and I'll probably regret it," Amy said, grimacing, "but I'm going to need to do some shopping."
"Eeeeeeeee!" Vicky's squeal of delight was almost glass-breaking. She floated out of her room, and set down in front of her sister, then looked puzzled. "Ames?"
"Yes?"
"How tall are you again?" Her sister nominally was a couple inches shorter than she was.
Amy then realized she was looking Vicky straight in the eyes, then sighed. "A couple inches taller than I was, obviously." She looked thoughtful a moment. "Hold that thought." She went back to her room and grabbed her phone, and then checked the time. Taylor should be out of class now, she thought.
A: Taylor, you there?
T: What's Up?
A: Got home from the hospital and...
T: That's good. And?
A: Nothing fits.
T: OK?
A: How much did you grow? 2-3 inches?
T: Officially, 3 inches.
T: Same thing happened to you?
A: Yup.
A: I did something I might regret, too.
T: What?
A: Told Vicky I need to go shopping for clothes.
T: You poor, poor, soul.
T: I'll call later, make sure you survive.
A: Later.
"Alright, then," Amy said. "We'll get things settled here, explain things to Mom," noting to herself that it felt odd to call Carol that, "and get some of the basics; shirts, pants, underwear, and I think a new pair of shoes."
From Vicky's pocket, her phone sounded in incoming message alert. She gave it a quick look. "Dean says the PRT has a couple of your 'Get Well' presents through the screening process. He can stop by and drop them off later if you want."
Amy wasn't surprised; any present coming to her from a parahuman source would have been run through a screening process, and pass some very strict guidelines. "Yeah, he can drop them off later."
Vicky replied to Dean's message, then actually looked eager to get to work. "Let's get your stuff brought in, then go shopping!"
Amy gulped. She had passed the point of no return.
- - - - - - - - - -
Carol, Sarah, Neil, and Mark were all sitting around the table in the kitchen, surrounded by the greenery that had accompanied Amy's stay in the hospital. "Wow, it's a jungle in here," exclaimed Neal. "It makes me wonder if you could even find the kitchen now…"
Mark smiled a bit. "Which is why we're going order takeout."
"I cannot believe that Amy is thought so well of by so many people that they could cover our lower floor in flower arrangements," muttered Carol into her coffee.
"And all but one are potted plants," added Sarah. "The ikebana from South Brockton Imports was exceptionally nice, though the note from the PRT stating they had withheld part of it somewhat worrying."
At this point, Amy and Vicky entered the jungle of greenery. "Wow," exclaimed Vicky, "any more plants and we'll need a machete to move around the house!"
"Is that some jungle animal I hear?" came Eric's voice from the family room.
"Nah," Crystal replied, "it's only Vicky."
"Funny, guys," retorted Vicky. "Anyway, we discovered a small issue." With that, Amy stood next to her normally taller sister.
"Vicky," asked her mother, "Aren't you supposed to be taller than Amy?" At Vicky's nod, she continued. "What happened, then?"
"I think a side effect of however Naurelin resuscitated me induced a growth spurt," explained Amy. "I seriously doubt she meant for it to happen, or even knew it would happen." She knew that look on Carol's face; she wanted to take out her frustration on anyone who could be held responsible for what had happened. Since Carol could do more damage with the judicial system, she wanted to sue them so far into the ground they could see Behemoth.
"However, it does mean that I have a problem," Amy continued. "Nothing fits anymore. I've already split one t-shirt down the back, most leave my midriff exposed and my pants are starting to look more like capris." Amy sighed. "And thus, I have to ask if Vicky and I can go," and with that, she gulped, "clothes shopping."
Fortunately, they didn't have a repeat of Vicky's ear-shattering response, just a glorious smile.
"What do you need to buy?" asked Carol.
"Enough basics to get by, and to get me through to the weekend," explained Amy, "that way, I should have a better idea of what I need, even if it means going through my closet and trying everything on."
"Group of three," Sarah said, her tone brooking no argument. "Crystal and Vicky." At the mention of her name, Crystal joined the group in the kitchen. "Costumes on if you want. Any trouble, get Amy out of there and retreat back here, then summon help." The leader of New Wave sighed before continuing. "I have no doubt that once you're seen downtown, the PRT will have someone watching you from close by, so don't jump 'em."
"I understand," hedged Vicky. Her habit of 'Punch first, ask questions later' was infamous within the region.
Unfortunately for the girl, her mother knew that tone of voice. "Vicky, if anything happens, your job is to get Amy out of it. Understand?" Carol's voice carried the full force of maternal authority, something no teenager liked to listen to.
Vicky's answer was to simply nod her head.
- - - - - - - - - -
Crystal and Vicky decided not to go in costume, to draw less attention as they made their rounds of the clothing stores. Crowds kept a respectful distance from the three; more because of the baleful glare Vicky kept giving the crowd than simply being asked.
They had noticed the various remaining gang members on the boardwalk clearing out as they approached, deciding to conclude whatever business, illicit or legitimate, somewhere else. If it went wrong, they didn't want it touching Amy, her cousin, or 'Collateral Damage Barbie'.
Vicky was concentrating more on keeping a lookout for trouble than trying to spend Amy's money, so her clothes shopping experience was relatively peaceful, though she did take a couple of her sister's suggestions and purchase some items that were a little better than just basic.
"Well," said Vicky, "I've noticed one PRT van, one BBPD cruiser, a Wards' Patrol, and a Protectorate Patrol since we've started shopping."
Crystal nodded. "Not to mention the Empire moving its business elsewhere when we came within a hundred feet, and several of the normal gangs moved out, too."
"We also passed Taylor somewhere in the middle of things," added Amy. "She was wearing some of her own merchandise, the 'Meddle not in the affairs of Dragons' shirt." That brought a round of chuckling from the trio.
"It's a good way to muddle the waters," Crystal replied. "How many actually wear their own merchandise?"
"I'm just enjoying the quiet," Amy commented. "Everyone staying a respectful distance and not pestering me has been nice. I could do without every store giving me a discount on everything, though."
"Hey, you're the respected healer, cousin," snarked Crystal, "deal with it." She gave Amy a grin then finished off her latte.
"I've got one more stop I'd like to make," Amy said.
"Where to oh fearless leader?" Vicky said, facetiously.
"The Doll House."
Crystal and Amy both clapped their hands over their ears as Vicky tried to break glass with her expression of delight.
- - - - - - - - - -
Parian's Doll House was a rather exclusive boutique just off the Boardwalk. Beyond the expertly designed and made clothing that could be commissioned, Parian gave a puppet show for the crowds during the warmer months. She was also a cape, one who was well thought of, mainly because she didn't go around damaging things. She minded her own business and did business with nearly everyone. Granted, there were certain parties not allowed in her store, which she gently but firmly removed from the premises, or held them for the police to arrive. Even Lung had respected her neutrality in the often brutal cape politics of Brockton Bay.
After all, she was the only source in town for the shirts and pants with breakaway panels he preferred, and since she used the highest quality materials, firmly believing in 'Garbage In, Garbage Out', her clothes for him tended to last longer. Because she worked with several other cloth-based capes, she could get such exotic materials as fireproof synthetic silk and cotton.
"Hello?" Parian called out from behind the counter, "Can I help you?"
No one ever saw Parian's face. When in her store or out in public she was always in costume, resembling a Victorian porcelain doll. Today, it was the doll mask, a Gothic Lolita dress and the requisite platform shoes, and a flame-red wig.
"Err, yes," Amy replied. "I'd like like to commission some work."
"Ah, Panacea. Thank you for asking your sister to stay outside."
"You're welcome."
"What can I help you with?"
"I need a few things; I want a new version of my normal costume and some foundation garments made out of the most durable material suitable for the job."
"About bloody time," Parian muttered, showing definite signs of an English accent. "Is New Wave paying for the costume, or are you?"
"This is personal," was Amy's answer.
"Then I shall be glad to assist you," Parian answered cheerfully. "Let's go into the back and I shall get some measurements…"
- - - - - - - - - -
"So, how'd it go?" Vicky asked from where she'd patiently waited outside the store. She wasn't allowed in the store after a rather embarrassing incident that amounted to her flying into the window and then finding out that Parian could restrain her until someone came for her. Carol hadn't been happy about that and came to a settlement rather quickly with Parian's insurance carrier.
"Pretty good," Amy replied. "The costume will be a duplicate of the original, so there should be no problems there, and the reinforced foundation garments should help when I'm in civvies."
"A bit expensive, isn't it?" Crystal asked, walking alongside Amy as they went back out on the Boardwalk.
"Eh, I checked my debit card balance," Amy said with a shrug, "and decided I could splurge a bit."
- = [ @ ] = -
That night, after she had fallen asleep, Amy soon found herself in a weird kind of dream. She was completely lucid, and could freely explore the environment she was in. From where she was, she was high up on a mountain, above the snow line. The freezing wind didn't feel cold, merely pleasant. The path wound down the mountain, and she figured it was a couple of miles down to the meadow and lake that she could see. A few hours walk at best.
Well, let's see if what my power has been telling me is true, she thought to herself.
She focused a bit and felt her body change. Clothes changed to fit her new form; a pair of wings grew out of her back at the shoulders, and she sprouted a tail. Silver scales covered her body, her legs changed to a digitigrade stance, her hands and feet sprouted claws. Her neck lengthened, and her face changed. None of it was painful, and in truth was done in less than an instant; Her power allowed her to see all the changes made as they were being done, and she somehow had the feeling that it had eaten too much because there was the sensation of a burp.
Her chuckle at the image was an octave deeper than her normal voice. She flared her wings fully, craning her neck to see as much as she could. She could almost look directly behind her like this. This form had no hair, unlike Naurelin's mane of feathery hairs.
"Leap of faith time," she said to herself. She settled herself into a crouch, raised her wings, and then leaped into the air, bringing her wings down as she did so. She found herself climbing into the sky. With a cry of delight, she began a wide circling of the lake below, slowly descending.
She'd had enough examples of what not to do while flying from her sister that she was determined not to do them herself.
There was clapping from near the shoreline, where Naurelin was sitting on a tree. "Oh, bravo!" she said, clapping some more. "Much better than my first attempt."
Amy came in slowly, and flared her wings to kill her forward speed, and dropped somewhat clumsily to the ground. Amy bowed and then grinned. "Dare I ask?"
"Imagine 20 tons of dragon cannonballing into the lake," Taylor admitted. "The splash was epic."
From somewhere in the woods, another voice could be heard. "Taylor, where are you, I can--"
Amy turned to look at Natalie, who had just walked down the path to the lake. She was standing there, her jaw hanging open, a finger pointing at Amy, trying to make a sound, but not quite getting there.
"Err, Hi, Natalie?" the greeting was tentative at best, with a half-hearted wave and a sheepish grin.
"Augh!" With that, Natalie literally exploded out of her clothes. "When did you become a dragon?"
Amy switched back to her human form. "Last Saturday night, I think," she answered. Idly, she noted that she was dressed in a generic robe, with her ever-present friend, a pair of comfortable shoes.
"Confound it, daughter, where have you gotten to this time?" Sonngrad's voice could be heard as he approached the lake.
"Hello, Mr. Aleshin!" Amy said, waving. "How've you been?"
With great pomp and dignity, Sonngrad's palm and forehead met to continue their torrid love affair.
- = [ @ ] = -
Outlands
Tiamat was not amused. She had been enjoying some take out from a restaurant in Brockton Bay that claimed its nachos were so spicy as to make you breathe fire. She was suitably impressed with the spiciness, and indeed, the case of indigestion she suffered afterward caused an eruption of gas that had caused her to expel a jet of flame from her mouth.
Then, she had a visitor. One that required her presence, lest the creature got cheeky with her. No, only her full-on dragon queen form would do for this.
Sitting in the parlor was her visitor, who had introduced herself as Deirdre. Coiled like a snake, she awaited Tiamat's pleasure, four of her arms folded neatly on the table, and a pleasant cup of tea in one of the remaining hands, the saucer in the last.
"What do you want?" Tiamat asked, all five of her heads asking the same question.
"Dread queen of the dragons," the demon stated, after setting down her teacup, "I simply am here to deliver a message for my Lady."
"Continue, then."
The demon opened the scroll, her eyebrows disappearing under her bangs. Sighing, she rolled her eyes before continuing. "Tia, dahling!", she read from the scroll, exactly matching the voice used when it was written. "It's been ever so long since we've talked! I know a place that is simply fabulous over in Plague-Mort, the Slaughtered Lamb. I'll meet you there OK? Ta-ta!" The demon looked up at Tiamat before gulping in apprehension.
Fortunately, destruction was not immediately forthcoming.
"Tell Araushnee I'll meet her at the Slaughtered Lamb," she told the messenger. "Use that exact name. That will be your punishment from me."
"You got it," the demon said before vanishing in a puff of sulfurous smoke.
"What does Lolth want now?" she grumbled.
- - - - - - - - - -
Plague-Mort was not a nice place. If anything, it could be described as something that Brockton Bay aspired to be. It was an anarchic place, with the rule of might being the only order present in the town. Corruption was everywhere, and it was only by being forced to agree to it that the various groups allowed for several neutral places to meet.
One of these was an inn and tavern called The Slaughtered Lamb. It apparently was run by mortals, yet despite various attempts in the past the place still stood, and still maintained its neutrality.
Tia had decided to go for the simple traveler look, nothing important here, nothing valuable to steal. The three pickpocket attempts so far had all ended in tears for the thieves, literally upended in the streets and spanked until they cried.
Thus, after a few minor delays, she made it to the inn.
Upon entering, she noted the bouncer, a bald man of average build and neutral expression, dressed in a yellow tunic and breeches. He saluted her with his flagon, acknowledging her presence. She cast her eyes over the crowd when a figure leaned out of a booth and waved at her.
She took her place in the booth, across from the avatar of Lolth, Demon Queen of Spiders. The last time they had talked, it had been more like a lot of roaring and spell casting from her, and a lot of screaming from Lolth as she discovered that Tiamat might be a goddess with no followers, but she still had most of her innate power. "I'm here, what do you want?"
"Did you really have to use my old name? Trying to break an innocent maiden's heart by bringing up memories of old lovers?" Lolth whined, trying to act a part she really wasn't well suited for. Her avatar hinted at sensuality beyond the mortal ken in every curve of her body, in every sway of her hips as she walked. Underneath that veneer, however, was insanity, depravity, and ultimately death.
"Neither of us has been innocent since the dawn of time," Tia said. "So drop the act and tell me what you wanted to talk about."
"Ah, so direct, so forceful." the demon hissed. "I thought I would give you some information, as an apology for our last meeting."
"Go on, I'm listening."
"An ancient foe of both of us is stirring. He has made his first moves in the world that currently has your interest. He intends to claim an asset there that I wish to deny him." Lolth sipped elegantly at a goblet of spiced wine. "I merely wanted to inform you of this."
"And what do you want from me?"
"Why dahling, I simply want to make sure that you or your servants don't kill the poor child after I claim her. Her abilities could prove useful, after all, but she really does need to be a bit older for my purposes." Lolth slid an envelope across the table. "I would read that well away from anything you care about." Her playful tone had switched to serious.
"Who is the unfortunate soul?"
"You'll know after I'm done." With that, she slipped out of the booth, and out the door.
Tiamat sighed, then finished her wine. It was going to be one of those days.
- = [ @ ] = -
Dinah Alcott had an uneasy feeling as she went to bed. She'd triggered in mid-January. She was pretty sure the PRT would classify her as a Thinker. If asked the right kind of question, she could get a chance of the event actually happening. Unfortunately, such foreknowledge often included a lot of unpleasant things that were going to happen to you or the things you liked.
She had tried to keep her ability under wraps, but she was sure that sleazy Mr. Calvert had figured out what she could do, and was going to do something to her. Then, suddenly, still in January, the chance of him doing something unpleasant to her dropped to nothing, but the chance of something bad happening still remained.
In the last week, the chance of something happening had gone up until this evening, when it hit 98.6673%. She didn't know what it would be, only that something would happen tonight, and it wouldn't be good. She tried to relax, but even then, she'd been nervous and upset all day, and couldn't tell her parents; rather, she had tried to tell them, down to five decimal places, what the probability of what could happen, and they just told her, "We're adults, we know better."
Still, it had gotten her ice cream.
Now she sat in bed, her covers pulled up, waiting for whatever to happen, watching the minutes count down to midnight. "Chances are turning on my lamp will help me sleep?"
"Go ahead, if you feel like it would." The answer was not in her voice. The voice was sultry, which would make men of many races and worlds melt in the speaker's hands.
The light clicked on. Dinah soon wished she hadn't.
Her bedroom had been replaced by a starry void, with the perceived ground covered in mist. Over her bed spiders of all sorts crawled, and Dinah felt a frisson of fear. The speaker was cloaked in shadows, but she could see her face; skin as black as the paint her father used on his grill; bone-white hair. Her face was expressive, fine sharp features that could easily twist from amusement to cruelty in an instant. She could see two human-like arms, again with the black skin, covered with a tracery of silver and silk which reminded her of spider webs.
"Are you the one who is going to do something bad to me?" Dinah asked, strangely calm for all she wanted to scream.
"Yes, child I am. I like you; no pleading for mercy, whining about cruel fate." The stranger smiled at her. It wasn't a pretty sight.
"This is going to be something painful and horrific, isn't it?"
"Of course, child, why would it be any other way?" With that, an absolutely gigantic spider's leg pulled the blanket away, and Dinah finally saw the monster in all her hideous glory, half of her body being almost human, the other half a monstrous spider, the whole monstrous yet strangely beautiful.
"Before you do whatever you are going to do me, can I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"Who are you?"
"My name is Lolth, Dinah Marie Alcott, and I claim you as mine." As the last was said with a hiss, Dinah's world erupted in agony.
Last edited:
4.14 Rerum Fatiscit II
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Sunday,19 Feb 2011
The screaming, naturally, roused her parents from their slumber. They weren't surprised when their neighbor's lights came on, wondering what was going on over at the Alcott household early on a Sunday morning. Right now, their main concern was their daughter, who had stopped shrieking in agonized terror, and was now sobbing.
"Dinah, Are you Okay?" her father asked, before opening the door.
"NO!" Dinah shrieked as the door opened. "DON'T OPEN the door… Noooo, don't look at me…" she cried, sobbing again. "I've turned into a monster, nooo…"
At that both of her parents had come into the room. Where they had wished their daughter a good night's sleep earlier in the evening was… something. From the waist up, it resembled their daughter, though her hair had lightened considerably. From the waist down, however, she was a spider. She lay there midst the wrack and ruin of her bed. What was left of her pajama bottoms were shreds, which were coated with slime and ichor and other things not for the comprehension of normal men.
Dinah's mother made a decision.
She approached the creature on her daughter's bed, and gave her a hug.
Dinah's father watched as what his darling daughter had become wrapped her arms around his wife and sobbed into her shoulder. The sight of his wife wrapped not only in Dinah's arms but front legs caused him to involuntarily shiver before he too joined the hug. "Whatever has happened, Dinah, always remember that we love you," he reassured the girl.
"Looks like we'll need some new chairs," her father stated. "Kind of hard for you to use one now."
Really wanting to sit down, Dinah looked around for a bit, and slowly scuttled her way into the living room, pushing the old ottoman in front of her as she returned. She lifted her body up on her legs and delicately crept forward, lowering it when she was over it. Satisfied, she slowly pushed herself forward so she was sitting at the table.
"Or maybe some more footstools?" she asked, innocently. "Feels weird, with my butt hanging in the air."
"I think I can afford a few of those," her father chuckled. "Might have to talk to a couple of people and have something custom made."
Her mother had walked in while Dinah had converted an ottoman into a tuffet. "You may be a spider monster," she said, smiling, "but you're an adorable one!" If she'd had her phone out, she probably would've taken pictures.
"Mom," Dinah complained, before yawning, which revealed a mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth.
"I've got the guest room set up, dear," her mother said. "We'll clean things up in your room tomorrow."
"We should be getting a visit from the police here pretty soon," her father stated, "so we'd like to get you out of sight, just in case someone overreacts."
Dinah couldn't fault her father's reasoning. "Oh, okay," she grumped. She set her glass down on the table and scuttled back towards the guest room, closing the door with a quiet click.
"What are we going to do?" Cheryl Alcott asked her husband quietly.
"When the Police show up, we tell them that our daughter triggered," Greg Alcott said. "Though now that I think about it, she may have triggered a month earlier."
"When she started giving us answers to some questions as a percentage?"
"Yes. Telling the BBPD, who are just pulling up, the truth will get the PRT out here to investigate, and at the very least, get Dinah in for power testing and a medical evaluation." With that, Greg Alcott walked over to the door that someone had just knocked on. Looking at the screen for the hidden camera above the door, he double checked that it was two police officers before opening the door. "Good evening officers. Come in, sit down, and I'll explain what happened."
"Miss Militia," he said as quietly as a sonic blaster cape could, "this is my Aunt and Uncle's place."
"Either this is going to be awkward," Miss Militia said, shaking her head, "or easy."
"It'll be easy, my entire family knows," was his answer.
"Your call then." And with that, she let him take the lead.
Gently, he rapped on the door. After a moment, the door opened to the face of a worried, middle aged man, whose expression became one of relief. "Come in, come in."
Soon, introductions were made and they were all sitting around the kitchen table with fresh cups of coffee.
"Initial trigger interview, 19th of February, 2011. Triumph of the Protectorate ENE conducting. So. Mr. & Mrs. Alcott, tell us what happened…"
The couple went through events as they understood them, up until the point where the two Protectorate heroes had arrived.
"So, a bad dream made Dinah trigger?" asked Triumph after he had finished the interview, an eyebrow raised under his helmet. "Wow, that must have been one rip-snorter of a night terror to do that."
"Actually, we think she may have triggered earlier, Rory," his uncle Paul said quietly. "At the beginning of January she was complaining about headaches all the time, which suddenly stopped, and she'd start answering certain questions as a percentage."
There was a creak from the door to the guest room as Dinah poked her head out of the room, noticed who was there, uttered an 'eep!' and retreated back into the room, only to peek around the edge of the door.
He set his helmet on the table, and went down the hallway. "Hey, Dinah," he said. "Sorry I woke you up."
"'S Okay," she said, yawning widely. "Kinda finding it hard to sleep. Can't get comfortable."
Rory noted the little mouth filled with very sharp looking teeth. It pained him to see his cousin turned into a little monster. Still, he great affection for the little scamp. "Could you come out for a second?"
"Okay. Uhm, is anyone else there?"
"Miss Militia is in your room, investigating the scene, so to speak."
"I'm actually at the top of the stairs, Triumph," Miss Militia added. "I can stay up here if you want me to."
"The more people who see me," came Dinah's quiet reply, "the faster I get used to their reactions. You can come downstairs."
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, the door to the guest room opened fully, and Dinah squeezed her way through the door and made her way down the hallway, looking very frightened.
Rory Christner wanted to run, wanted to scream. Not in terror; he wanted to run out and scream at the person who had done this to his cousin at the limits of his voice-based Blaster power. "C'Mere, punkin," he said, kneeling down. "You look like you could use some more hugs." He gave Dinah a heartfelt hug, which she happily returned.
Miss Militia was enough of a soldier to not let her reaction show. The girl was only half human, if that. Still, she was probably the cutest spider monster that she'd ever seen. "I think we've done enough tonight, Triumph. We need to let Dinah and Mr. & Mrs. Alcott get some sleep." With that, she handed the Alcotts one of her cards. "When you're ready, give us a call. Given Dinah's changes, you may need to pick up a van for a family vehicle, and from what I remember of spiders, you may need something like a hammock for her to sleep in. Good night." With that and a wave, Miss Militia exited the house.
Rory gave his aunt and uncle a hug, gave Dinah another one, put his helmet back on and left the house as well.
She considered the glass of sparkling grape juice in front of her. She couldn't legally buy alcohol, but that didn't bother her much. She was trying to stay on the straight and narrow from here on out. Beyond the significant amount of money that they had recovered from the Merchants – now soon to be completely out of business due to a really boneheaded move by Skidmark – and the rewards for the recovered counterfeit bills, she could live comfortably for quite some time. She was pretty sure Dragon knew that she had siphoned some money off into trust funds for herself and the Undersiders from Coil's assets, but the Canadian Tinker hadn't said anything.
Brian had managed to get back home to help his father deal with his sister. Aisha, on a good day, was a pain in the ass, and handful for any male to handle. Still they'd managed to get their mother declared incompetent, and into rehab. He was still looking for a good paying job, but he wasn't hurting for money to live off of, either.
When the PRT learned who Alec was, they immediately flipped. His request to be relocated somewhere far away from his family was agreed to in relatively short order, and he would be assigned to a PRT clinic where he could use his very PR-ugly power of puppetting people to a constructive use. Alec was just glad to get as far away from the Canadian border as possible.
And then there was Rachel. She had always been something of a handful, with her mind being more canine than human. Always pushing her perceived boundaries, physical and social, until she found her limits. When the bigger, meaner dog showed up, she adjusted her place in the hierarchy and continued on. Her world had been really shaken up by Naurelin. There was absolutely no way she could dominate a freaking dragon the way she could a dog or person, so she submitted and settled into her role as another member of Naurelin's pack.
When a Federal judge had looked at Rachel's case, there had been a brief investigation, after which she was found guilty of a much lesser charge of assault with powers, sentenced to time served, and put on probation. She was currently working with the PRT and BBPD K9 handlers as an affiliate, doing what she liked to do best, working with dogs.
She finished the rest of the juice, and proceeded to turn in for the night. It was as she made it to her bedroom she noticed something was wrong.
#Undefined is in room.
#Undefined is waiting.
#Undefined is undefined.
<Process.Inference.Engine >is not responding.
Lisa frowned, and then turned on the light. Sitting in a chair in her bedroom was a woman, of sorts. Oriental porcelain doll face, black hair, black kimono, worn off the shoulder. Definitely sharp, fox-like features, and a somewhat predatory air to her. From her long black hair poked up two vulpine ears, and there was something moving behind her as she sat on the chair.
"Hello, Lisa," the woman said, calmly watching the girl.
"Who are you and why are you here?" Lisa demanded.
"I bring you a message, and a choice. Your former employer is under new management, and this person wishes to make use of your abilities. I wish to deny him those abilities," the stranger stated. "I can do this in one of two ways; the first is the simplest solution; I simply kill you." The woman paused, scrutinizing Lisa's face for any reaction. "A very unimaginative solution, to be sure. The other is I hide your presence from this individual, and you get to live, and continue on with few complications."
<Process.Inference.Engine> forced restart
#Undefined is being truthful.
"I'm kind of attached to living, so I would prefer not to die?" said Lisa, a bit unsure. She had caught the expression on her visitor, and it was one people often saw, they said, in her own face; the fox-like smugness and grin. It was far more impressive on the woman's face. On Lisa's face, it was merely amusing or annoying, depending on context.
It was downright scary on her visitor's face and very, very disturbing.
"I am as well," chuckled the fox-woman.
Yes, Lisa noted to herself, I am dealing with a woman with fox ears, and those are probably tails...nine of them… Oh, fuck.
"I see you may have heard some of the stories about me," she continued. "Depending on the culture the story is from, I am called Su Da Ji or Tamamo no Mae." The fox spirit rose from her chair. "When I was released from the Sessho-seki, I was bidden to seek enlightenment by the monk and to do no harm. As I have given my word, I must keep it." She smiled, a gentle smile.
Lisa struggled to make her mouth work. Finally collecting her thoughts, she finally managed to ask "What happens if I don't want to take your offer?"
"Then Calvert-chan's new master will use the information his new slave had to secure you and use your abilities. This being makes whatever he did in life pale in comparison."
"Do I get to keep my powers if I take the deal?"
"Yes. I give you my word on that."
"What are the complications?"
"That, I do not know." Tamamo shrugged, an elegant gesture on an inhuman form. "Some of the changes may be physical, some may be mental, and others you may be hard pressed to define."
Lisa weighed her options: The first was she not take the offer, and whoever had Coil's information brought her under his thumb, and made her life literally hell. Considering what she did while under Coil's thumb, this made the option something she wouldn't take unless she had to. The second option was to let this person, allegedly Tamamo no Mae from oriental mythology, do whatever she was going to do to mask her presence to whoever had Calvert's information. The third option was that the woman would kill her. Definitely a no there.
"What price do I pay for this?" Lisa asked. "In any number of stories like this, there is a price the person pays. I'd like to know what this costs me."
The fox woman bowed. "You are more shrewd than most. I will require three tasks of you. The first one is that you live. The other two should be well within your abilities at the time I ask. There are no time limits, and you are free to leverage whatever resources you have to complete them. Again, I give you my word."
Lisa sighed. Die, be tormented by an even bigger asshole of a boss, or let this Tamamo no Mae do something to her. "I want to live," she finally said, "and not have to have a gun to my head working for someone worse than Coil. Do what you have to do."
"This won't hurt a bit," Tamamo no Mae said with a smile. 5 little glowing balls of foxfire appeared, and one by one, simply disappeared into Lisa.
"That's it?"
"Wait for it," Tamamo said.
"Wait for wha-ah, ah, Ah, AH… CHOO!" Lisa let loose with a mighty sneeze. Something poked up through her hair, and the rear of her slacks blew out. Lisa reached up and felt the tips of whatever was poking up through her hair. Likewise, she reached behind her and pulled what appeared to be a long, fluffy tail into view. She looked at her mirror, and noted a couple of new features; she had a pair of fox-like ears covered in fur that was the same color as her hair, and a number of tails, possibly five, also covered in fur that matched her ears, with white tips.
Ooooh, fluffy.
Her power had decided to be less than useful for the moment.
"There we go. Welcome to the clan, Lisa Wilbourn. Your first lesson is how to hide your tails and ears…"
The screaming, naturally, roused her parents from their slumber. They weren't surprised when their neighbor's lights came on, wondering what was going on over at the Alcott household early on a Sunday morning. Right now, their main concern was their daughter, who had stopped shrieking in agonized terror, and was now sobbing.
"Dinah, Are you Okay?" her father asked, before opening the door.
"NO!" Dinah shrieked as the door opened. "DON'T OPEN the door… Noooo, don't look at me…" she cried, sobbing again. "I've turned into a monster, nooo…"
At that both of her parents had come into the room. Where they had wished their daughter a good night's sleep earlier in the evening was… something. From the waist up, it resembled their daughter, though her hair had lightened considerably. From the waist down, however, she was a spider. She lay there midst the wrack and ruin of her bed. What was left of her pajama bottoms were shreds, which were coated with slime and ichor and other things not for the comprehension of normal men.
Dinah's mother made a decision.
She approached the creature on her daughter's bed, and gave her a hug.
Dinah's father watched as what his darling daughter had become wrapped her arms around his wife and sobbed into her shoulder. The sight of his wife wrapped not only in Dinah's arms but front legs caused him to involuntarily shiver before he too joined the hug. "Whatever has happened, Dinah, always remember that we love you," he reassured the girl.
- - - - - - - - - -
The first part of things was getting Dinah settled again. That meant getting her downstairs to the guest room. Fortunately, Dinah could still just barely fit through the hallways and stairs of their house. She carefully picked her way down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. There she got a glass of water to help calm her nerves while her mother made up the bed in the guest room.
"Looks like we'll need some new chairs," her father stated. "Kind of hard for you to use one now."
Really wanting to sit down, Dinah looked around for a bit, and slowly scuttled her way into the living room, pushing the old ottoman in front of her as she returned. She lifted her body up on her legs and delicately crept forward, lowering it when she was over it. Satisfied, she slowly pushed herself forward so she was sitting at the table.
"Or maybe some more footstools?" she asked, innocently. "Feels weird, with my butt hanging in the air."
"I think I can afford a few of those," her father chuckled. "Might have to talk to a couple of people and have something custom made."
Her mother had walked in while Dinah had converted an ottoman into a tuffet. "You may be a spider monster," she said, smiling, "but you're an adorable one!" If she'd had her phone out, she probably would've taken pictures.
"Mom," Dinah complained, before yawning, which revealed a mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth.
"I've got the guest room set up, dear," her mother said. "We'll clean things up in your room tomorrow."
"We should be getting a visit from the police here pretty soon," her father stated, "so we'd like to get you out of sight, just in case someone overreacts."
Dinah couldn't fault her father's reasoning. "Oh, okay," she grumped. She set her glass down on the table and scuttled back towards the guest room, closing the door with a quiet click.
"What are we going to do?" Cheryl Alcott asked her husband quietly.
"When the Police show up, we tell them that our daughter triggered," Greg Alcott said. "Though now that I think about it, she may have triggered a month earlier."
"When she started giving us answers to some questions as a percentage?"
"Yes. Telling the BBPD, who are just pulling up, the truth will get the PRT out here to investigate, and at the very least, get Dinah in for power testing and a medical evaluation." With that, Greg Alcott walked over to the door that someone had just knocked on. Looking at the screen for the hidden camera above the door, he double checked that it was two police officers before opening the door. "Good evening officers. Come in, sit down, and I'll explain what happened."
- - - - - - - - - -
Miss Militia often covered the night shift for the Protectorate; not needing to sleep meant she was available to work any shift at a moment's notice. She found herself with Triumph, who had the least seniority of any of the Protectorate.
"Miss Militia," he said as quietly as a sonic blaster cape could, "this is my Aunt and Uncle's place."
"Either this is going to be awkward," Miss Militia said, shaking her head, "or easy."
"It'll be easy, my entire family knows," was his answer.
"Your call then." And with that, she let him take the lead.
Gently, he rapped on the door. After a moment, the door opened to the face of a worried, middle aged man, whose expression became one of relief. "Come in, come in."
Soon, introductions were made and they were all sitting around the kitchen table with fresh cups of coffee.
"Initial trigger interview, 19th of February, 2011. Triumph of the Protectorate ENE conducting. So. Mr. & Mrs. Alcott, tell us what happened…"
The couple went through events as they understood them, up until the point where the two Protectorate heroes had arrived.
"So, a bad dream made Dinah trigger?" asked Triumph after he had finished the interview, an eyebrow raised under his helmet. "Wow, that must have been one rip-snorter of a night terror to do that."
"Actually, we think she may have triggered earlier, Rory," his uncle Paul said quietly. "At the beginning of January she was complaining about headaches all the time, which suddenly stopped, and she'd start answering certain questions as a percentage."
There was a creak from the door to the guest room as Dinah poked her head out of the room, noticed who was there, uttered an 'eep!' and retreated back into the room, only to peek around the edge of the door.
He set his helmet on the table, and went down the hallway. "Hey, Dinah," he said. "Sorry I woke you up."
"'S Okay," she said, yawning widely. "Kinda finding it hard to sleep. Can't get comfortable."
Rory noted the little mouth filled with very sharp looking teeth. It pained him to see his cousin turned into a little monster. Still, he great affection for the little scamp. "Could you come out for a second?"
"Okay. Uhm, is anyone else there?"
"Miss Militia is in your room, investigating the scene, so to speak."
"I'm actually at the top of the stairs, Triumph," Miss Militia added. "I can stay up here if you want me to."
"The more people who see me," came Dinah's quiet reply, "the faster I get used to their reactions. You can come downstairs."
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, the door to the guest room opened fully, and Dinah squeezed her way through the door and made her way down the hallway, looking very frightened.
Rory Christner wanted to run, wanted to scream. Not in terror; he wanted to run out and scream at the person who had done this to his cousin at the limits of his voice-based Blaster power. "C'Mere, punkin," he said, kneeling down. "You look like you could use some more hugs." He gave Dinah a heartfelt hug, which she happily returned.
Miss Militia was enough of a soldier to not let her reaction show. The girl was only half human, if that. Still, she was probably the cutest spider monster that she'd ever seen. "I think we've done enough tonight, Triumph. We need to let Dinah and Mr. & Mrs. Alcott get some sleep." With that, she handed the Alcotts one of her cards. "When you're ready, give us a call. Given Dinah's changes, you may need to pick up a van for a family vehicle, and from what I remember of spiders, you may need something like a hammock for her to sleep in. Good night." With that and a wave, Miss Militia exited the house.
Rory gave his aunt and uncle a hug, gave Dinah another one, put his helmet back on and left the house as well.
- = [ @ ] = -
Lisa leaned back in her chair at the table in her apartment. Things were looking up; She had her affiliate status, her assumed identity made bulletproof. Even better, her parents, excuses that wasted oxygen that they were, had been found guilty on a whole new set of charges, namely violating several court orders that kept them from even trying to find her.
She considered the glass of sparkling grape juice in front of her. She couldn't legally buy alcohol, but that didn't bother her much. She was trying to stay on the straight and narrow from here on out. Beyond the significant amount of money that they had recovered from the Merchants – now soon to be completely out of business due to a really boneheaded move by Skidmark – and the rewards for the recovered counterfeit bills, she could live comfortably for quite some time. She was pretty sure Dragon knew that she had siphoned some money off into trust funds for herself and the Undersiders from Coil's assets, but the Canadian Tinker hadn't said anything.
Brian had managed to get back home to help his father deal with his sister. Aisha, on a good day, was a pain in the ass, and handful for any male to handle. Still they'd managed to get their mother declared incompetent, and into rehab. He was still looking for a good paying job, but he wasn't hurting for money to live off of, either.
When the PRT learned who Alec was, they immediately flipped. His request to be relocated somewhere far away from his family was agreed to in relatively short order, and he would be assigned to a PRT clinic where he could use his very PR-ugly power of puppetting people to a constructive use. Alec was just glad to get as far away from the Canadian border as possible.
And then there was Rachel. She had always been something of a handful, with her mind being more canine than human. Always pushing her perceived boundaries, physical and social, until she found her limits. When the bigger, meaner dog showed up, she adjusted her place in the hierarchy and continued on. Her world had been really shaken up by Naurelin. There was absolutely no way she could dominate a freaking dragon the way she could a dog or person, so she submitted and settled into her role as another member of Naurelin's pack.
When a Federal judge had looked at Rachel's case, there had been a brief investigation, after which she was found guilty of a much lesser charge of assault with powers, sentenced to time served, and put on probation. She was currently working with the PRT and BBPD K9 handlers as an affiliate, doing what she liked to do best, working with dogs.
She finished the rest of the juice, and proceeded to turn in for the night. It was as she made it to her bedroom she noticed something was wrong.
#Undefined is in room.
#Undefined is waiting.
#Undefined is undefined.
<Process.Inference.Engine >is not responding.
Lisa frowned, and then turned on the light. Sitting in a chair in her bedroom was a woman, of sorts. Oriental porcelain doll face, black hair, black kimono, worn off the shoulder. Definitely sharp, fox-like features, and a somewhat predatory air to her. From her long black hair poked up two vulpine ears, and there was something moving behind her as she sat on the chair.
"Hello, Lisa," the woman said, calmly watching the girl.
"Who are you and why are you here?" Lisa demanded.
"I bring you a message, and a choice. Your former employer is under new management, and this person wishes to make use of your abilities. I wish to deny him those abilities," the stranger stated. "I can do this in one of two ways; the first is the simplest solution; I simply kill you." The woman paused, scrutinizing Lisa's face for any reaction. "A very unimaginative solution, to be sure. The other is I hide your presence from this individual, and you get to live, and continue on with few complications."
<Process.Inference.Engine> forced restart
#Undefined is being truthful.
"I'm kind of attached to living, so I would prefer not to die?" said Lisa, a bit unsure. She had caught the expression on her visitor, and it was one people often saw, they said, in her own face; the fox-like smugness and grin. It was far more impressive on the woman's face. On Lisa's face, it was merely amusing or annoying, depending on context.
It was downright scary on her visitor's face and very, very disturbing.
"I am as well," chuckled the fox-woman.
Yes, Lisa noted to herself, I am dealing with a woman with fox ears, and those are probably tails...nine of them… Oh, fuck.
"I see you may have heard some of the stories about me," she continued. "Depending on the culture the story is from, I am called Su Da Ji or Tamamo no Mae." The fox spirit rose from her chair. "When I was released from the Sessho-seki, I was bidden to seek enlightenment by the monk and to do no harm. As I have given my word, I must keep it." She smiled, a gentle smile.
Lisa struggled to make her mouth work. Finally collecting her thoughts, she finally managed to ask "What happens if I don't want to take your offer?"
"Then Calvert-chan's new master will use the information his new slave had to secure you and use your abilities. This being makes whatever he did in life pale in comparison."
"Do I get to keep my powers if I take the deal?"
"Yes. I give you my word on that."
"What are the complications?"
"That, I do not know." Tamamo shrugged, an elegant gesture on an inhuman form. "Some of the changes may be physical, some may be mental, and others you may be hard pressed to define."
Lisa weighed her options: The first was she not take the offer, and whoever had Coil's information brought her under his thumb, and made her life literally hell. Considering what she did while under Coil's thumb, this made the option something she wouldn't take unless she had to. The second option was to let this person, allegedly Tamamo no Mae from oriental mythology, do whatever she was going to do to mask her presence to whoever had Calvert's information. The third option was that the woman would kill her. Definitely a no there.
"What price do I pay for this?" Lisa asked. "In any number of stories like this, there is a price the person pays. I'd like to know what this costs me."
The fox woman bowed. "You are more shrewd than most. I will require three tasks of you. The first one is that you live. The other two should be well within your abilities at the time I ask. There are no time limits, and you are free to leverage whatever resources you have to complete them. Again, I give you my word."
Lisa sighed. Die, be tormented by an even bigger asshole of a boss, or let this Tamamo no Mae do something to her. "I want to live," she finally said, "and not have to have a gun to my head working for someone worse than Coil. Do what you have to do."
"This won't hurt a bit," Tamamo no Mae said with a smile. 5 little glowing balls of foxfire appeared, and one by one, simply disappeared into Lisa.
"That's it?"
"Wait for it," Tamamo said.
"Wait for wha-ah, ah, Ah, AH… CHOO!" Lisa let loose with a mighty sneeze. Something poked up through her hair, and the rear of her slacks blew out. Lisa reached up and felt the tips of whatever was poking up through her hair. Likewise, she reached behind her and pulled what appeared to be a long, fluffy tail into view. She looked at her mirror, and noted a couple of new features; she had a pair of fox-like ears covered in fur that was the same color as her hair, and a number of tails, possibly five, also covered in fur that matched her ears, with white tips.
Ooooh, fluffy.
Her power had decided to be less than useful for the moment.
"There we go. Welcome to the clan, Lisa Wilbourn. Your first lesson is how to hide your tails and ears…"
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Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Have a couple of story posts. This wraps up Arc 4.
There will be an interlude, then Arc 5 starts. Nothing so devastating as this arc... Maybe?
(Just more idiots juggling idiot balls, that's all; It's called Demons, Angels, Dragons, Saints for a reason, after all.)
There will be an interlude, then Arc 5 starts. Nothing so devastating as this arc... Maybe?
(Just more idiots juggling idiot balls, that's all; It's called Demons, Angels, Dragons, Saints for a reason, after all.)
Leechblade
Orientation Nitpicking
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Did Lisa end up with Red Hair?
Also DEATH TO THE SPIDER QUEEN!
Also DEATH TO THE SPIDER QUEEN!