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The Jedi Contingency (Star Wars)
"Execute Order 66..."
The day those words were spoken, a disturbance appeared in the Force so great, it shook the entire galaxy to its very core. Deep below the frozen wastes of Hoth, a singular bunker began to stir and inside, frozen in time, an equally powerful force began to stir. Locked away by the Jedi council 700 years prior, the man suspended in fluid meant to preserve and sustain him began to stir without ever being woken by the ones he called master. The single generation-1 servant droid fiddled impatiently as it watched the glass walls of the tank crack and begin to leak its fluid onto the floor of the bunker.
During the time of the Old Republic, a war waged between the Jedi and the Sith. During the darkest of times, a realization was made by the Jedi council. That one day, it was possible that a Sith could rise so powerful, they could destroy the Jedi and cast the universe itself into a terrible darkness. A decision was made, and a young padawan who had been dismissed by more than one master was chosen. Officially, the boy was dismissed entirely from his training and sent back to his home to live out the remainder of his days in obscurity. In secret, under the watchful eyes of the Jedi council, he was trained in both sides of the Force. Weaponized, trained to do what any normal Jedi could not, and hidden away, only to be used in the event that the Jedi themselves were completely destroyed. A contingency plan to keep the fate of the universe out of the hands of the Sith.
"Oh dear..." it buzzed "Master Zek! No! You musn't..."
It was too late, wordlessly and without hesitation the man climbed naked from the tank, accepting the thick robes the droid brought him as he went to the computer panel on the far end of the room. What he saw when he accessed the Jedi archive made him want to fly into a fit of rage, but as always he maintained the balance.
"Ready the ship, B-6..." he said to the droid as he watched the Sith on the screen slaughter a group of younglings. The council had asked him to take up this watch, to restore the balance should the Sith become too powerful...his mission was clear. He would find this Sith, this...Darth Vader...whoever he was, and he was going to kill him.
The day those words were spoken, a disturbance appeared in the Force so great, it shook the entire galaxy to its very core. Deep below the frozen wastes of Hoth, a singular bunker began to stir and inside, frozen in time, an equally powerful force began to stir. Locked away by the Jedi council 700 years prior, the man suspended in fluid meant to preserve and sustain him began to stir without ever being woken by the ones he called master. The single generation-1 servant droid fiddled impatiently as it watched the glass walls of the tank crack and begin to leak its fluid onto the floor of the bunker.
During the time of the Old Republic, a war waged between the Jedi and the Sith. During the darkest of times, a realization was made by the Jedi council. That one day, it was possible that a Sith could rise so powerful, they could destroy the Jedi and cast the universe itself into a terrible darkness. A decision was made, and a young padawan who had been dismissed by more than one master was chosen. Officially, the boy was dismissed entirely from his training and sent back to his home to live out the remainder of his days in obscurity. In secret, under the watchful eyes of the Jedi council, he was trained in both sides of the Force. Weaponized, trained to do what any normal Jedi could not, and hidden away, only to be used in the event that the Jedi themselves were completely destroyed. A contingency plan to keep the fate of the universe out of the hands of the Sith.
"Oh dear..." it buzzed "Master Zek! No! You musn't..."
It was too late, wordlessly and without hesitation the man climbed naked from the tank, accepting the thick robes the droid brought him as he went to the computer panel on the far end of the room. What he saw when he accessed the Jedi archive made him want to fly into a fit of rage, but as always he maintained the balance.
"Ready the ship, B-6..." he said to the droid as he watched the Sith on the screen slaughter a group of younglings. The council had asked him to take up this watch, to restore the balance should the Sith become too powerful...his mission was clear. He would find this Sith, this...Darth Vader...whoever he was, and he was going to kill him.
The Hunter (Supernatural/Post Apocalyptic)
Some of the old one's still remember the earth quakes, but they say that wasn't the worst part. The worst part came in the weeks that followed. The chasms left in the Earth after the quakes rocked the world destroyed almost every electrical grid on the planet. Oil refineries burned, nuclear reactors metled down, in the blink of an eye, society collapsed and mankind was sent back to the stone age. After that was when the mists came...
Some think the monsters that came with the mist came from whatever place inside the planets crust the mists did. Others think that the mist is a living thing itself, and that it creates whatever humans fear in order to feed. No one knows for sure, no one who has ever gone into the thick of the mist has ever come out again, and just inhaling a small amount of it can drive a person insane.
Its been 50 years since the quakes. Humanity lives in small settlements and caravans, constantly on the move. Gasoline, oil, and electricity are rare commodities, and too precious to be used so carelessly as they used to. Large cities are almost non existant, every time too many of us stay in one place for too long the mist always comes, like it can smell us. It's everyone's job to keep their groups and families safe, but only a few actually have the skill to take down the beasts that come from the mist. My uncle taught me to hunt after my father was killed by one of those nightmares. Some day, I'll teach somebody too..or maybe I wont. Maybe its like the old ones who still believe in God say; this is the end times.
"But, why?" I had asked my grandmother as she wrapped the blankets around me as a little boy. "Why would God create us, love us, give us free will, and then destroy us?"
"I don't know..." she said to me as she blew out the candle next to my cot. "Maybe he just got tired of all the bullsh*t.."
Some think the monsters that came with the mist came from whatever place inside the planets crust the mists did. Others think that the mist is a living thing itself, and that it creates whatever humans fear in order to feed. No one knows for sure, no one who has ever gone into the thick of the mist has ever come out again, and just inhaling a small amount of it can drive a person insane.
Its been 50 years since the quakes. Humanity lives in small settlements and caravans, constantly on the move. Gasoline, oil, and electricity are rare commodities, and too precious to be used so carelessly as they used to. Large cities are almost non existant, every time too many of us stay in one place for too long the mist always comes, like it can smell us. It's everyone's job to keep their groups and families safe, but only a few actually have the skill to take down the beasts that come from the mist. My uncle taught me to hunt after my father was killed by one of those nightmares. Some day, I'll teach somebody too..or maybe I wont. Maybe its like the old ones who still believe in God say; this is the end times.
"But, why?" I had asked my grandmother as she wrapped the blankets around me as a little boy. "Why would God create us, love us, give us free will, and then destroy us?"
"I don't know..." she said to me as she blew out the candle next to my cot. "Maybe he just got tired of all the bullsh*t.."
Fantasy For Adults (Supernatural/Fantasy)
November 23, 2004, Stanton Falls, Ohio. This day also happened to be my 16th birthday. As far as boring little towns go, Stanton Falls has to take top five easy for being one of the littlest, most boring places on earth. Don't feel bad for not ever hearing about it, or the Stanton 6 either...most people haven't. We did have a flea market though, mostly folks from the next county over come to bring their grandmother's antiques to sell to the simple folk of Stanton Falls who just "ate that sh*t up".
The day had started out like any other, gray skys, a cold wet chill in the air, and mom snoozing away on the couch with an empty bottle of vodka sitting on the coffee table, the ash tray over flowing with week old buts. It's been this way since Dad went to the store for milk and never came home a few years back. She thought my birthday was two days ago, I didn't have the heart to correct her. Kyle remembered by birthday though, he always remembered. We had been best friends ever since Mrs. Dubek sat us together in second grade, and we discovered a kindred spirit in one another with a love of all thigs in the kingdom of nerd-dom. He had just gotten his license a few weeks ago and his mom had let him borrow the family station wagon to take me to the flea market to pick out a birthday present, to which I gravely objected.
"Potter, Can't we just go to the movies or something?" I complained as we walked down the rows of old wooden tables, half rotted from being left out in the elements year round. "We still haven't seen the new "Saw". Make that my birthday present. I don't have a use for an antique sewing machine or whatever else it is you think we're going to find here."
"Have a little faith, huh?" Kyle smiled from behind his thick black rimmed glasses and brushed some of the shaggy black hair styled in the fashion of anyone who owned a Brand New album in the early 2000's. If he only had a scar on his forehead he would live up to his namesake perfectly "There's a guy here I want to talk to."
Rolling my eyes, I followed Kyle deeper into the market and into the old concrete and glass building reserved for the permanent stores that sold the more delicate items that couldnt be displayed outside. Bootleg DVD's, televisions that had fallen off the back of the truck, screen printed t-shirts that matched eachother with phrases like "Her King", and "His Queen", that sort of thing. The smell of steamed clams coming from the makeshift food court in the center of the building hit my nostrils like a brick wall and I struggled not to gag at the scent. My Uncle Dan had eaten a bad clam here when I was 10 and died of liver failure 2 months later. I haven't eaten shell fish since.
We passed a few familiar sights, the arcade that still had a working m original Mortal Kombat arcade cabinet and one of those "play till you win" claw machines that gave out bits of candy that had all melted together into clumps from the hot lights that lit the inside. The pet store was always the busiest, usually pushing kittens on the local population, but today they had a few puppies, and I overheard a mother telling her son that this one "better no end up like the last time". I shuddered. One thing about Stanton Falls, we have a tremendously bad stray cat problem. Some say its due to the old cannery on the edge of town, they had come for the tunafish and just never left. Whatever the truth is, its led to an abundance of strays, and almost every street as a free kitten box for anyone willing to give a kitty a home. I've always been afraid to ask what happens to the ones who don't get adopted.
I stopped suddenly when Kyle did, and arched an eyebrow at that stupid sh*t eating grin his was giving me. Complete with the chipped front tooth from the time he would thought he would reinvent himself freshman year and go out for the wrestling team. He decided after one practice that he'd rather play wrestling video games than be man-handled by a bunch of farm boys. "What?" I said to him, "Why'd you stop?"
"Look!" He said, pointing upwards at the sign overhead. I had been so stuck on thinking about that crazy kid and his puppy that I hadn't noticed the new store that had opened in a space that had been unoccupied my whole life.
"Mort's Cabinet of Games, Toys, and Curiosities?" I said with a laugh. "Kind of long winded...and not very catchy."
"Oh, stop." Kyle said with a snicker. "It just opened last week. It's really cool and I asked the guy, I think he's Mort, to put something to the side for me. Your birthday present!"
I followed Kyle into the store and honestly, I couldn't help but smile. I had been expecting a store with shelves filled with boxes of "Connect Four" and "Monopoly JR". What I saw instead was something out of a dream. The front of the store was filled with a large oak table full of set up games. Not that crap you find at Wal-Mart but real games. There was a vintage "Risk" board, made in the shape of Middle Earth and filled with hand crafted orcs and humans fighting for dominance. Next to it, "Settler's of Catan" was on display, the pieces pressed into metal in intricate designs. Stacks of vintage DnD books lay ripe for reading and classic "Star Wars" figurines did battle with one another across a hand made Endor diorama. In short, this was nerd paradise.
"Come on!" Kyle said, beckoning me to the counter. Behind it stood a man who looked older than my Dad the last time I had seen him. He sported a thick shaggy beard and long curly black hair thay fell down just past his ears and he was about 20 pounds overweight. "Han Shot First" stretched across his broad and underdeveloped chest as his gut threatened to poke put through the bottom and spill over his jeabs. In short, he was nerd god. "This is Mort. Mort, this is the birthday boy. Do you still have them?"
"Sure do." Mort said with a smile, reaching down into the glass case he stood behind that held the real expensive items. His fingers drew back as his hand passed an old, vintage looking Star Trek phaser. Smart, Mort, keep it here for profiling purposes. We don't sling Trek in Stanton Falls. His hand continued over towards a wooden box, it had been polished to perfection and stained and sealed giving the cherry wood and brass hinges on the back a beautiful shine. The top had been carved to show a scene of a Wyvern, roaring it's defiance. He carefully removed the box from the case and placed it on the counter top, smiling happy.
"Well?" Kyle said, "What do you think?"
I had to admit, it really was a beautiful box. "It's great."
"The real presents on the inside." Kyle said, "Open it."
Slowly, I reached for the box and pushed it open, the hinges moved smoothly and without a sound and the inside had been lined in a vibrant purple velvet. 6 sockets sat carved into the inside of the box and each one held a white die of varying sides. D10, D15, D20, and so on. "Each one carved from the bones of a Voodoo Priestess." Mort said confidently. I appreciated the salesmenship, but the dramatics made me roll my eyes and laugh. I reached into the box and lifted the D20. It was heavy for a die, which was nice, and cold and smooth in my hand and each one polished to a perfect shine. Whoever made these, voodoo priestess or not, had clearly been a fine craftsmen.
"$50 right?" Kyle asked, causing my eyes to widen. Where did Kyle get $50? That was an exorberant amount in the world of teenage boy finances.
"$50 for the dice. If you want the box its gonna run you another $50." Mort said. I put the die in my hand back in its place and took Kyle by the arm. There was no way, best friends or not, I was going to allow him to spend $100 on a present for me.
"Lets go." I said, tugging him away with a little resistance. Kyle looked like a child who had just been told there was no Santa Clause. He was skinny, but taller than me and it was difficult to get him moving.
As we reached the store front, Mort came around the counter and stepped in front of us. "Alright. $80 for the set."
"$60" I said defiantly. I had a bit of pocket money from my own part time job at the corner store, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't really want to get my hands on those dice. I wish I hadn't.
"Awe, come on kid. Look at the craftsmanship. Did you see how life-like the dragon on the lid is?" Mort asked, motioning back with an arm towards the box that sat open on the counter top.
"Thats a Wyvern." I said with a smle, releasing Kyles arm to fold my own across my chest and straighten my back defiantly. "Dragons have 4 legs, that one only has 2." Next to me, Kyles face brightened a little. This was a classic nerd duel, who was the bigger fantasy snob? And I had just won, and Mort knew it.
He huffed a sigh and his shoulders dropped slightly, admitting defeat. "$70, but thats as low as I can go."
"Done!" I said, not wanting to push my luck. Kyle and I quickly dug out the cash and put it in the mans hand. Rushed to the counter, shut the box, and we high tailed it from the flea market and back to the station wagon like Luke and Han on the run from the Empire after rescuing Princess Leia.
"Dude, that was awesome!" Kyle exclaimed as we got into the car. "He didn't even see that coming."
"Dont f***s with me, padawan, don't f***s with me." I laughed, and we left the market feeling like we had won a great battle indeed.
We pulled up to my house about 30 minutes later. Mom, my kid sister, and myself lived in a small 3 bedroom, 1 bath rancher near the old industrial park. It wasn't much, but we were able to function as a family unit without falling all over eachother. Kyle pulled into the end of the horseshoe driveway and put the car in park. "I have one more present for you tonight, but you gotta let me hold onto the dice until then." He smiled. "I'm gonna put a game together, everyones coming."
"So you want me to spend my birthday huddled in your basement, playing DnD with a bunch of nerds while we all argue about who gets to be the love interest for the Queen of the Elves?" I laughed.
"Not like that, I have something special in mind. This is going to be epic, bro! Fantasy for adults."
I shuddered wondering what dark corner of the internet Kyle had pulled that phrase from, but relented and smiled, genuinely excited. Kyle always made the best DM. "Alright, bet. See you tonight." I got out of the car, leaving the box with Kyle and heading up into the house.
That night, mom made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, my favorite. Apparently, my kid sister Lila has reminded her that today was my birthday. Neither of us brought up that she had just made spaghetti and meatballs two dags ago. Mom worked so hard for so little.
Throughout dinner, Lila had been glued to her phone. At 14, she had hust begun to discover the difficulties of high school politics and she seemed very upset about some drama or another. Most older siblings would leave their younger counterparts to brood without even asking, but not me. Even when we were really little, Lila and I had rarely fought or even argued. It was due to both of us having the same personality coupled with a similar sense of humor. We just got eachother.
"Hey." I said to her as I grabbed my jacket from a hook by the door. "Wanna come to a party?"
The walk to Kyles wasn't far, and within the hour we were approaching the house. Kyles dad was retired from the Marine Corps, and his pension combined with the salary of a union road worker had enabled him to provide a really nice home for his family. I was always envious of that, never angry, just wished I could have it too. When I rang the doorbell, his mother answered, all smiles. There were rumors she had been a stripper in Guam prior to coming to the states, and as my hormones kicked in as I got older, it was something I had secretly fantasized about on more than one occasion.
"Hey Mrs. Evans." I said smiling with practiced grace despite the low cut shirt she was wearing. "You remember Lila."
"Of course!" Mrs Evans said, stepping to the side. "Come in. Everyones downstairs waiting for you! Oh and happy birthday!"
"Thanks!" I smiled politely and walked the familiar route with Lila in tow towards the basement, passing Mr Evans on the couch who was performing his nightly ritual of icing his knees and drinking a 6 pack of Coors Light. Something about an explosion in Iraq caused him to have knee pain, and being on his feet all day made it worse. I never had the guts to ask foe the full story.
We decended the steps down into the musky basement that served as our own personal Bat Cave for our game nights. Kyle sat at the head of the table with my box open in front of him. Around him, the 3 others that made up our group of 5, and Lila making a 6th behind me. "Well, looks like we have a….party?" Kyle said, his terrible pun eliciting groans from everyone, my sister included. We all set to work then, crafting our characters to our hearts desires on our character sheets and adding and taking away abilities. Even Lila tried her best to get it just right, even though she had never played before. Once we finished, Kyle passed the box around and we all took hold of our own die. I was second to last, choosing the D20 and snickering as I passed the box to Lila. "Beginners get the D6." She rolled her eyes, not getting the joke. "Kyle, wheres the 100?"
"I got it of course." Kyle grinned, holding it up between his thumb and middle finger. "I'm the DM." He looked around the table, smiling at his group of eager adventurers. "Okay, ready? We begin in the town of…" he rolled the dice onto the table, and a brilliant flash of white light filled the room.
I can't talk about what happened next….
Two years later, Mrs. Tinsil, the lady who owns the pet store in the flea market was driving home late at night from a baby shower when a flood of white light obscured her vision. She slammed on the brakes of her car and very nearly ran over a group of 4 kids standing in the middle of the road. She jumped out, her heart thumping in her chest. "What are you kids...wait...I know you! You were on the news, the Stanton 6." Her eyes widenes in horror as she looked at the youngest girl in the group, and the stub of her elbow poking through a dirty old t shirt. "What happened to your arm!?"
"We can't talk about it…" I said.
I don't celebrate birthdays anymore…
I'm 32 now, and barely functioning. After we disapeared, mom drank herself to death. Literally stumbling into traffic while walking home from the bar one night. Our aunt raised us after that. Sometimes, Mrs Evans comes to my door, begging me to tell her what happened to Kyle. I tell her I can't, and have had to call the police on several occasions when she refuses to leave. She looks so old now, hardly the smoke show she was back then. I went to Morts store once, only to find it blocked off by police tape. Apparently a game of Magic the Gathering had turned deadly about a year after the night of the game. Mort had lost a $70 bet and refused to pay…
To make money, I work as a customer service rep for a major credit card company. I can work from home, and dont have to go out too much. I prefer it that way. Lila went on to work for a software company, designing video games. I asked her how she can still code after everything, "very slowly" she replies and waves her stump in the air with a grin.
A knock on my door, and I slowly make my way there. Hoping the delivery man leaves before I actually open the door and can avoid the face to face interaction. Im expecting to see my newest box set of "The Wheel of Time" on my doorstep. You would think after what happened I would be sick of fantasy, but old habits die hard. Instead, I'm greeted by a small square package, and a Fed Ex truck heading out of the driveway. Arching an eyebrow, I pick it up and tear the paper open, what I see nearly kills me. The box is wooden, lined with purple velbet. A note ontop reads, "Happy Birthday, buddy. The games not over." Inside? A D20 die...caked in blood...
The day had started out like any other, gray skys, a cold wet chill in the air, and mom snoozing away on the couch with an empty bottle of vodka sitting on the coffee table, the ash tray over flowing with week old buts. It's been this way since Dad went to the store for milk and never came home a few years back. She thought my birthday was two days ago, I didn't have the heart to correct her. Kyle remembered by birthday though, he always remembered. We had been best friends ever since Mrs. Dubek sat us together in second grade, and we discovered a kindred spirit in one another with a love of all thigs in the kingdom of nerd-dom. He had just gotten his license a few weeks ago and his mom had let him borrow the family station wagon to take me to the flea market to pick out a birthday present, to which I gravely objected.
"Potter, Can't we just go to the movies or something?" I complained as we walked down the rows of old wooden tables, half rotted from being left out in the elements year round. "We still haven't seen the new "Saw". Make that my birthday present. I don't have a use for an antique sewing machine or whatever else it is you think we're going to find here."
"Have a little faith, huh?" Kyle smiled from behind his thick black rimmed glasses and brushed some of the shaggy black hair styled in the fashion of anyone who owned a Brand New album in the early 2000's. If he only had a scar on his forehead he would live up to his namesake perfectly "There's a guy here I want to talk to."
Rolling my eyes, I followed Kyle deeper into the market and into the old concrete and glass building reserved for the permanent stores that sold the more delicate items that couldnt be displayed outside. Bootleg DVD's, televisions that had fallen off the back of the truck, screen printed t-shirts that matched eachother with phrases like "Her King", and "His Queen", that sort of thing. The smell of steamed clams coming from the makeshift food court in the center of the building hit my nostrils like a brick wall and I struggled not to gag at the scent. My Uncle Dan had eaten a bad clam here when I was 10 and died of liver failure 2 months later. I haven't eaten shell fish since.
We passed a few familiar sights, the arcade that still had a working m original Mortal Kombat arcade cabinet and one of those "play till you win" claw machines that gave out bits of candy that had all melted together into clumps from the hot lights that lit the inside. The pet store was always the busiest, usually pushing kittens on the local population, but today they had a few puppies, and I overheard a mother telling her son that this one "better no end up like the last time". I shuddered. One thing about Stanton Falls, we have a tremendously bad stray cat problem. Some say its due to the old cannery on the edge of town, they had come for the tunafish and just never left. Whatever the truth is, its led to an abundance of strays, and almost every street as a free kitten box for anyone willing to give a kitty a home. I've always been afraid to ask what happens to the ones who don't get adopted.
I stopped suddenly when Kyle did, and arched an eyebrow at that stupid sh*t eating grin his was giving me. Complete with the chipped front tooth from the time he would thought he would reinvent himself freshman year and go out for the wrestling team. He decided after one practice that he'd rather play wrestling video games than be man-handled by a bunch of farm boys. "What?" I said to him, "Why'd you stop?"
"Look!" He said, pointing upwards at the sign overhead. I had been so stuck on thinking about that crazy kid and his puppy that I hadn't noticed the new store that had opened in a space that had been unoccupied my whole life.
"Mort's Cabinet of Games, Toys, and Curiosities?" I said with a laugh. "Kind of long winded...and not very catchy."
"Oh, stop." Kyle said with a snicker. "It just opened last week. It's really cool and I asked the guy, I think he's Mort, to put something to the side for me. Your birthday present!"
I followed Kyle into the store and honestly, I couldn't help but smile. I had been expecting a store with shelves filled with boxes of "Connect Four" and "Monopoly JR". What I saw instead was something out of a dream. The front of the store was filled with a large oak table full of set up games. Not that crap you find at Wal-Mart but real games. There was a vintage "Risk" board, made in the shape of Middle Earth and filled with hand crafted orcs and humans fighting for dominance. Next to it, "Settler's of Catan" was on display, the pieces pressed into metal in intricate designs. Stacks of vintage DnD books lay ripe for reading and classic "Star Wars" figurines did battle with one another across a hand made Endor diorama. In short, this was nerd paradise.
"Come on!" Kyle said, beckoning me to the counter. Behind it stood a man who looked older than my Dad the last time I had seen him. He sported a thick shaggy beard and long curly black hair thay fell down just past his ears and he was about 20 pounds overweight. "Han Shot First" stretched across his broad and underdeveloped chest as his gut threatened to poke put through the bottom and spill over his jeabs. In short, he was nerd god. "This is Mort. Mort, this is the birthday boy. Do you still have them?"
"Sure do." Mort said with a smile, reaching down into the glass case he stood behind that held the real expensive items. His fingers drew back as his hand passed an old, vintage looking Star Trek phaser. Smart, Mort, keep it here for profiling purposes. We don't sling Trek in Stanton Falls. His hand continued over towards a wooden box, it had been polished to perfection and stained and sealed giving the cherry wood and brass hinges on the back a beautiful shine. The top had been carved to show a scene of a Wyvern, roaring it's defiance. He carefully removed the box from the case and placed it on the counter top, smiling happy.
"Well?" Kyle said, "What do you think?"
I had to admit, it really was a beautiful box. "It's great."
"The real presents on the inside." Kyle said, "Open it."
Slowly, I reached for the box and pushed it open, the hinges moved smoothly and without a sound and the inside had been lined in a vibrant purple velvet. 6 sockets sat carved into the inside of the box and each one held a white die of varying sides. D10, D15, D20, and so on. "Each one carved from the bones of a Voodoo Priestess." Mort said confidently. I appreciated the salesmenship, but the dramatics made me roll my eyes and laugh. I reached into the box and lifted the D20. It was heavy for a die, which was nice, and cold and smooth in my hand and each one polished to a perfect shine. Whoever made these, voodoo priestess or not, had clearly been a fine craftsmen.
"$50 right?" Kyle asked, causing my eyes to widen. Where did Kyle get $50? That was an exorberant amount in the world of teenage boy finances.
"$50 for the dice. If you want the box its gonna run you another $50." Mort said. I put the die in my hand back in its place and took Kyle by the arm. There was no way, best friends or not, I was going to allow him to spend $100 on a present for me.
"Lets go." I said, tugging him away with a little resistance. Kyle looked like a child who had just been told there was no Santa Clause. He was skinny, but taller than me and it was difficult to get him moving.
As we reached the store front, Mort came around the counter and stepped in front of us. "Alright. $80 for the set."
"$60" I said defiantly. I had a bit of pocket money from my own part time job at the corner store, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't really want to get my hands on those dice. I wish I hadn't.
"Awe, come on kid. Look at the craftsmanship. Did you see how life-like the dragon on the lid is?" Mort asked, motioning back with an arm towards the box that sat open on the counter top.
"Thats a Wyvern." I said with a smle, releasing Kyles arm to fold my own across my chest and straighten my back defiantly. "Dragons have 4 legs, that one only has 2." Next to me, Kyles face brightened a little. This was a classic nerd duel, who was the bigger fantasy snob? And I had just won, and Mort knew it.
He huffed a sigh and his shoulders dropped slightly, admitting defeat. "$70, but thats as low as I can go."
"Done!" I said, not wanting to push my luck. Kyle and I quickly dug out the cash and put it in the mans hand. Rushed to the counter, shut the box, and we high tailed it from the flea market and back to the station wagon like Luke and Han on the run from the Empire after rescuing Princess Leia.
"Dude, that was awesome!" Kyle exclaimed as we got into the car. "He didn't even see that coming."
"Dont f***s with me, padawan, don't f***s with me." I laughed, and we left the market feeling like we had won a great battle indeed.
We pulled up to my house about 30 minutes later. Mom, my kid sister, and myself lived in a small 3 bedroom, 1 bath rancher near the old industrial park. It wasn't much, but we were able to function as a family unit without falling all over eachother. Kyle pulled into the end of the horseshoe driveway and put the car in park. "I have one more present for you tonight, but you gotta let me hold onto the dice until then." He smiled. "I'm gonna put a game together, everyones coming."
"So you want me to spend my birthday huddled in your basement, playing DnD with a bunch of nerds while we all argue about who gets to be the love interest for the Queen of the Elves?" I laughed.
"Not like that, I have something special in mind. This is going to be epic, bro! Fantasy for adults."
I shuddered wondering what dark corner of the internet Kyle had pulled that phrase from, but relented and smiled, genuinely excited. Kyle always made the best DM. "Alright, bet. See you tonight." I got out of the car, leaving the box with Kyle and heading up into the house.
That night, mom made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, my favorite. Apparently, my kid sister Lila has reminded her that today was my birthday. Neither of us brought up that she had just made spaghetti and meatballs two dags ago. Mom worked so hard for so little.
Throughout dinner, Lila had been glued to her phone. At 14, she had hust begun to discover the difficulties of high school politics and she seemed very upset about some drama or another. Most older siblings would leave their younger counterparts to brood without even asking, but not me. Even when we were really little, Lila and I had rarely fought or even argued. It was due to both of us having the same personality coupled with a similar sense of humor. We just got eachother.
"Hey." I said to her as I grabbed my jacket from a hook by the door. "Wanna come to a party?"
The walk to Kyles wasn't far, and within the hour we were approaching the house. Kyles dad was retired from the Marine Corps, and his pension combined with the salary of a union road worker had enabled him to provide a really nice home for his family. I was always envious of that, never angry, just wished I could have it too. When I rang the doorbell, his mother answered, all smiles. There were rumors she had been a stripper in Guam prior to coming to the states, and as my hormones kicked in as I got older, it was something I had secretly fantasized about on more than one occasion.
"Hey Mrs. Evans." I said smiling with practiced grace despite the low cut shirt she was wearing. "You remember Lila."
"Of course!" Mrs Evans said, stepping to the side. "Come in. Everyones downstairs waiting for you! Oh and happy birthday!"
"Thanks!" I smiled politely and walked the familiar route with Lila in tow towards the basement, passing Mr Evans on the couch who was performing his nightly ritual of icing his knees and drinking a 6 pack of Coors Light. Something about an explosion in Iraq caused him to have knee pain, and being on his feet all day made it worse. I never had the guts to ask foe the full story.
We decended the steps down into the musky basement that served as our own personal Bat Cave for our game nights. Kyle sat at the head of the table with my box open in front of him. Around him, the 3 others that made up our group of 5, and Lila making a 6th behind me. "Well, looks like we have a….party?" Kyle said, his terrible pun eliciting groans from everyone, my sister included. We all set to work then, crafting our characters to our hearts desires on our character sheets and adding and taking away abilities. Even Lila tried her best to get it just right, even though she had never played before. Once we finished, Kyle passed the box around and we all took hold of our own die. I was second to last, choosing the D20 and snickering as I passed the box to Lila. "Beginners get the D6." She rolled her eyes, not getting the joke. "Kyle, wheres the 100?"
"I got it of course." Kyle grinned, holding it up between his thumb and middle finger. "I'm the DM." He looked around the table, smiling at his group of eager adventurers. "Okay, ready? We begin in the town of…" he rolled the dice onto the table, and a brilliant flash of white light filled the room.
I can't talk about what happened next….
Two years later, Mrs. Tinsil, the lady who owns the pet store in the flea market was driving home late at night from a baby shower when a flood of white light obscured her vision. She slammed on the brakes of her car and very nearly ran over a group of 4 kids standing in the middle of the road. She jumped out, her heart thumping in her chest. "What are you kids...wait...I know you! You were on the news, the Stanton 6." Her eyes widenes in horror as she looked at the youngest girl in the group, and the stub of her elbow poking through a dirty old t shirt. "What happened to your arm!?"
"We can't talk about it…" I said.
I don't celebrate birthdays anymore…
I'm 32 now, and barely functioning. After we disapeared, mom drank herself to death. Literally stumbling into traffic while walking home from the bar one night. Our aunt raised us after that. Sometimes, Mrs Evans comes to my door, begging me to tell her what happened to Kyle. I tell her I can't, and have had to call the police on several occasions when she refuses to leave. She looks so old now, hardly the smoke show she was back then. I went to Morts store once, only to find it blocked off by police tape. Apparently a game of Magic the Gathering had turned deadly about a year after the night of the game. Mort had lost a $70 bet and refused to pay…
To make money, I work as a customer service rep for a major credit card company. I can work from home, and dont have to go out too much. I prefer it that way. Lila went on to work for a software company, designing video games. I asked her how she can still code after everything, "very slowly" she replies and waves her stump in the air with a grin.
A knock on my door, and I slowly make my way there. Hoping the delivery man leaves before I actually open the door and can avoid the face to face interaction. Im expecting to see my newest box set of "The Wheel of Time" on my doorstep. You would think after what happened I would be sick of fantasy, but old habits die hard. Instead, I'm greeted by a small square package, and a Fed Ex truck heading out of the driveway. Arching an eyebrow, I pick it up and tear the paper open, what I see nearly kills me. The box is wooden, lined with purple velbet. A note ontop reads, "Happy Birthday, buddy. The games not over." Inside? A D20 die...caked in blood...
Practice Makes Perfect (Prelude to the Nobody Saga
For 9 bloody years James MacLeod had been fighting. And now, here at the teeth of the world, the Queens army had finally beaten back the invaders who had come from the nowhere, that harsh and unknown land of sand and stone that lay beyond the northern mountains, slain all but a hand full of the rabble and their goblin soldiers that had threatened life as they knew it. Sure, historians at the capital would write that it was no more than over breeding by the Goblins themselves. But the few here on the front line? Those lucky enough to have survived? They knew the Truth.
He sat quiet in the light of the campfire. The cold wind cutting through his dirty, blood stained cloak. The sky was clear tonight, the full moon shining so brightly that the fire only served for warmth. It's lumenesence drowned by the brilliant blue light of the moon and the stars overhead.
"You're staring at her again." Trissandra teased as she took a seat at her side. Her and Elena Somara, another Sorceress from the lodge had been dispatched a year ago to aid in the war effort. The fact that their guild had opted to even intervene in the first place was proof enough of how dire the situation had become. Only women could possess the ability to bend the elements to their will, and only a dozen or so could be alive at the same time, at least that was what the stories said. Either way, a sorceress was a powerful ally and their lives were not to be risked on the frivolous fighting of men. Elena had been captured early on in the frey and well...let's just say that the king who had managed to control the goblins, had a special way of greeting his female prisoners.
"Can you blame me?" James arched an eyebrow towards the redhead with a smirk. Elena was the most beautiful woman James has ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Raven black hair, ice blue eyes that almost pierced the darkness with their brilliance. Here, in the moonlight, rubbing her pregnant belly and singing a lullaby to the unborn babe inside of her, she looked as stunning as ever. The fact that she could love the seed growing in her, regardless of whose seed it was, made her all the more stunning.
"The baby is sitting high, that means it's a boy...or so I hear."
"I thought you sorceress couldn't bare children." James asked, looking at her for only a moment before bringing his eyes back to Elena.
"Most of us cant...but a lucky few are able to conceive. The maker knows why...have you told her how you feel?"
"Aye...said she'd come home to the Barrow with me. Provided your still willing to do what you need to?"
Triss nodded. "According to my official report, Elena Solara was killed 3 days ago when we took the ridge. You'll have no trouble from the lodge...but James....she doesn't love you..not like you love her...I.." she reached a hand towards him. No, Trissandra..now isn't the time. Remember your vows. She pulled back.
"I know...I know what it could mean. But she can't live without that baby, Triss...and I can't live without her.."
"As you wish...what about the girl?"
"I'll take her as well...I know a husband and wife at home who can't conceive...nice people. She'll have a good life."
"I still think she should come with me..."
"That child deserves a chance at a normal life, not to be used as some weapon...."
"Triss..." Issac interrupted as he stepped out of a tent on the edge of camp. The old grizzled war vet had been the sorceresses body gaurd long before the war. He the shield and her the sword, so to speak. He had faced down legions of enemies without so much as a flinch, but faced with his current task he looked very lost indeed. "The baby's crying...I don't know what to do."
"Triss sighed and shook her head. "Men...better tend to the little one James, you'll need the practice."
"Seems I will.." James smiled and stopped and turned on a heel before entering the tent. "And Triss? Thank you..."
He sat quiet in the light of the campfire. The cold wind cutting through his dirty, blood stained cloak. The sky was clear tonight, the full moon shining so brightly that the fire only served for warmth. It's lumenesence drowned by the brilliant blue light of the moon and the stars overhead.
"You're staring at her again." Trissandra teased as she took a seat at her side. Her and Elena Somara, another Sorceress from the lodge had been dispatched a year ago to aid in the war effort. The fact that their guild had opted to even intervene in the first place was proof enough of how dire the situation had become. Only women could possess the ability to bend the elements to their will, and only a dozen or so could be alive at the same time, at least that was what the stories said. Either way, a sorceress was a powerful ally and their lives were not to be risked on the frivolous fighting of men. Elena had been captured early on in the frey and well...let's just say that the king who had managed to control the goblins, had a special way of greeting his female prisoners.
"Can you blame me?" James arched an eyebrow towards the redhead with a smirk. Elena was the most beautiful woman James has ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Raven black hair, ice blue eyes that almost pierced the darkness with their brilliance. Here, in the moonlight, rubbing her pregnant belly and singing a lullaby to the unborn babe inside of her, she looked as stunning as ever. The fact that she could love the seed growing in her, regardless of whose seed it was, made her all the more stunning.
"The baby is sitting high, that means it's a boy...or so I hear."
"I thought you sorceress couldn't bare children." James asked, looking at her for only a moment before bringing his eyes back to Elena.
"Most of us cant...but a lucky few are able to conceive. The maker knows why...have you told her how you feel?"
"Aye...said she'd come home to the Barrow with me. Provided your still willing to do what you need to?"
Triss nodded. "According to my official report, Elena Solara was killed 3 days ago when we took the ridge. You'll have no trouble from the lodge...but James....she doesn't love you..not like you love her...I.." she reached a hand towards him. No, Trissandra..now isn't the time. Remember your vows. She pulled back.
"I know...I know what it could mean. But she can't live without that baby, Triss...and I can't live without her.."
"As you wish...what about the girl?"
"I'll take her as well...I know a husband and wife at home who can't conceive...nice people. She'll have a good life."
"I still think she should come with me..."
"That child deserves a chance at a normal life, not to be used as some weapon...."
"Triss..." Issac interrupted as he stepped out of a tent on the edge of camp. The old grizzled war vet had been the sorceresses body gaurd long before the war. He the shield and her the sword, so to speak. He had faced down legions of enemies without so much as a flinch, but faced with his current task he looked very lost indeed. "The baby's crying...I don't know what to do."
"Triss sighed and shook her head. "Men...better tend to the little one James, you'll need the practice."
"Seems I will.." James smiled and stopped and turned on a heel before entering the tent. "And Triss? Thank you..."
Code Name: Spartan (MCU OC)
"I was just a kid from the Jersey suberbs...not even the New York ones. The boring ones down there near Philly....sh*t, I didn't even particularly care much for super hero types. If I'd of known joining the Army would lead me to know what I know now? Well...I might have just gone AWOL..."
When the back of the plane opened, Donny was instantly taken back to jump school. The open air before him, the ground below shielded from view beneath the clouds, but the readout in his visor showed he was 4796 feet exactly from the ground. Tony Stark's voice was clear through his headset. "Insertion in five...four....three...two..."
"One day, Donny, we'll talk about your father hm? I promise."
Those were the last words his mother had ever said to him. She was late for her shift at the diner after spending the day cleaning out the attic. She hadnt counted on her 14 year old son finding the shoe box of old pictures tucked away up there. The ones of the man with the dirty blonde hair holding her newborn son in his arms in a delivery roon.
"You told me he died before I was born. Why did you lie to me?" He had asked. He didn't remember what she had said before running out the door. He was so angry he didn't even hear it. One day? One day when? The drunk driver later that night ensured that one day never came...
An orphan doesn't have many choices in front of them career wise. Especially those whose parents weren't billionaire tech mongels. The choice was jail, a hardhat and hammer, or some camoflage in a rifle. Well, they paid for college at least...
Prior to boot camp, Donny had never even handled a weapon. He liked to fight, sure. As much as any boy does...only he was GOOD. Good enough to graduate top of his class and earn him a one way ticket to Ranger school, and in turn a one way plane ticket to the War...
Battles were fought, enemies were killed, and somehow despite all of the times he should have come up dead, Donny managed to walk away with little more than a few bumps and bruises. Each time he couldnt wait to get himself back to the battlefield. It didnt take him long to realize not only was he good at war...but he actually enjoyed it. He would have stayed there forever if he could....but politicians being politicians brokered peace and after just 4 years he was sent home...that was when he met Colonol Nick Fury.
He was fresh off the plane, his ruck sack in hand and having a beer at the airport bar, contemplating his next move when the bald man with the eye patch approached him about a new career opportunity. But what drew Donny in? What really made him get into that SUV with those strange men with guns? Was what Fury said after 2 pitchers of beer and a habdful of swapped war stories...
"You remind me of your father..."
It was later at the Avengers compound that he learned the truth about Olympus, and Asgard, and all the other realms that connected to Earth. About his father, codename Aeres, who had come to Earth some time during Vietnam and had left just after his birth for unknown reasons. If his father was Aeres, the god of war, than Donny would make war until his father took notice and came back to Earth to give him his answers...and no one made war quite like the Avengers...
"One....clench up kid, this is your big debut. Make sure you stick the super hero landing. Its important." Stark was an ass, but at least he was funny and made one hell of a suite. Donny took a breath, and stepped out into the open air...
When the back of the plane opened, Donny was instantly taken back to jump school. The open air before him, the ground below shielded from view beneath the clouds, but the readout in his visor showed he was 4796 feet exactly from the ground. Tony Stark's voice was clear through his headset. "Insertion in five...four....three...two..."
"One day, Donny, we'll talk about your father hm? I promise."
Those were the last words his mother had ever said to him. She was late for her shift at the diner after spending the day cleaning out the attic. She hadnt counted on her 14 year old son finding the shoe box of old pictures tucked away up there. The ones of the man with the dirty blonde hair holding her newborn son in his arms in a delivery roon.
"You told me he died before I was born. Why did you lie to me?" He had asked. He didn't remember what she had said before running out the door. He was so angry he didn't even hear it. One day? One day when? The drunk driver later that night ensured that one day never came...
An orphan doesn't have many choices in front of them career wise. Especially those whose parents weren't billionaire tech mongels. The choice was jail, a hardhat and hammer, or some camoflage in a rifle. Well, they paid for college at least...
Prior to boot camp, Donny had never even handled a weapon. He liked to fight, sure. As much as any boy does...only he was GOOD. Good enough to graduate top of his class and earn him a one way ticket to Ranger school, and in turn a one way plane ticket to the War...
Battles were fought, enemies were killed, and somehow despite all of the times he should have come up dead, Donny managed to walk away with little more than a few bumps and bruises. Each time he couldnt wait to get himself back to the battlefield. It didnt take him long to realize not only was he good at war...but he actually enjoyed it. He would have stayed there forever if he could....but politicians being politicians brokered peace and after just 4 years he was sent home...that was when he met Colonol Nick Fury.
He was fresh off the plane, his ruck sack in hand and having a beer at the airport bar, contemplating his next move when the bald man with the eye patch approached him about a new career opportunity. But what drew Donny in? What really made him get into that SUV with those strange men with guns? Was what Fury said after 2 pitchers of beer and a habdful of swapped war stories...
"You remind me of your father..."
It was later at the Avengers compound that he learned the truth about Olympus, and Asgard, and all the other realms that connected to Earth. About his father, codename Aeres, who had come to Earth some time during Vietnam and had left just after his birth for unknown reasons. If his father was Aeres, the god of war, than Donny would make war until his father took notice and came back to Earth to give him his answers...and no one made war quite like the Avengers...
"One....clench up kid, this is your big debut. Make sure you stick the super hero landing. Its important." Stark was an ass, but at least he was funny and made one hell of a suite. Donny took a breath, and stepped out into the open air...