memorable

08/09/10



I'm standing in the shadows, talking quietly with the owner of a tavern. I lean casually against the open door frame, and the owner seems nervous, as if he'd very much like to tell me to leave. I ask him for information on my target, an older man who knows secrets that someone is paying to keep hidden.

The front door slams open, and most of the bar turns to look. My target is standing at the center of attention, panting. He looks around nervously.

I put a finger to my lips, warning the owner to keep silent, and step back into the night. Remotely, I see the man look at the open side door, before shaking his head and descending the stairs at the center of the room. I walk into the bar, through the front door this time. The target turns around and eyes me suspiciously, but my dark brown cloak is unremarkable, and I'm making my way to the bar.

When he turns a corner, I'm down the stairs after him. I see him slip into the dormitories, the beds that the tavern rents out, and I enter the room after him. He's not there. Unconcerned, I head towards the bed that an old woman, who used to work for the tavern, said was his the last time he stayed here. I strip the bed and see subtle signs of stitching at the seams. I rip into the mattress, sending stuffing across the room, and taking what's hidden there.

The stack of papers is old, but well preserved. I focus on the title.

These are the carvings of the things I saw.

The rest of the information needs to be translated. I carefully place the manuscript in my bag and fasten it shut, slinging the bag across my shoulder.

The old man must have escaped through the Shadow Ways (portals?), but I have what I need. I walk down the hallway and find an exact copy of the room I just left. I think about searching it, but decide that the phenomenon is entirely normal, since this is a dream.

What one person will pay to keep hidden, others will go to any length to reveal. Curious and excited, I take the stairs to the main floor, ready to meet my contact.

Questions. Scare Factor: 2.

I didn't get to find out what the manuscript was, and I wasn't lucid even though I knew I was dreaming. What a frustrating ending.

Behold, my massive HvZ/Star Wars/Fable/White Collar/Inception/Supernatural/Good Omens crossover dream. Includes characters from Inception, but no spoilers.

08/01/10

My brother and I are sneaking into our cousins' house, playing a game of what amounts to Humans vs. Zombies, but with more humans trying to "kill" each other.

My aunt catches us in the house. Her face is red and she attempts to loom over us threateningly. "You're trespassing, you know."

"I don't think that's against the rules." Ben says, considering.

"But we are sorry. Truly, sincerely sorry," I lie. "Really. We should go."

***



I look around. I'm in a mountainous region surrounded by pillars of ice and concrete bunkers. I'm close to the top of a mountain, on a snowy path.

I pull out my phone and look at it. If Hazel's speed dial "8", I could probably reach my brother the same way. I press "1".

The line picks up.

"Hey, Ben. What the hell happened to you?"

"Kkkshhk...separated...zombies...meet up...later."

The line goes dead.

I shrug, knowing that Ben can take care of himself. I look out over the snowy plains, at once clouded and sunny. It looks like a video game environment. Paths leading to certain places, all of the corners rounded and indistinct... If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was on Hoth.

"Hands in the air," says a voice, crackling and metallic.

I turn around slowly, pasting a smile onto my face.

***



Leaning against the concrete wall of the control room, I remain nonchalant as two of the guards keep their weapons trained on me. I was surprised when I realized that they weren't Stormtroopers, and weren't Rebels either. The group that I've let myself be captured by are dark-siders of a different sort, and I haven't yet figured out who they're working for.

The human male in the corner is force sensitive, but not trained. He has short black hair, plain dark clothing, and is probably in his late teens. He's either looking at me with distrust or he's sulking over the pot of cold coffee on the counter. I haven't decided.

The apparent leader is a female Zabrak. Her dark hair is cut in a short bob, and she's going through my personal effects. Finally, she picks up my dual lightsabers in each hand. I shift my weight to my other foot. One of the guards hisses a breath and clutches at his weapon tightly.

"Twitchy, twitchy." I say, eyeing the terrified guard. "Someone could get hurt."

"I'd be careful, Jedi," the leader hisses at me, still holding my lightsabers. "We have you at a disadvantage."

"Do you really?" I ask, amused. I motion with my hand. On the other side of the room, the coffee pours upward into the air, forming an amorphous blob and flying into the face of the sulking teenager. The boy starts to curse, but the woman in front of me barely seems to notice.

"There's very little difference between the Jedi and the Sith."

"You're telling me." I say, "One of those lightsabers is red, you know."

A blood-curdling roar is unleashed from outside. The bunker shakes from its very foundations. Outside in the darkness, I can sense the fury of the beast, aimed at the creatures encroaching on its territory. Us.

"I wonder what happened to the Imperials that built this station." I say quietly, meeting the eyes of the leader.

My dual sabers are in my hands and light up in the next instant, glowing red and blue (and I'm my female Exile character from KOTOR 2). The woman raises her hands. I watch as the blades are folded up into sheets of blunt metal, and look at the woman mournfully.

"You are no fun at all," I say, yanking a pistol from a guard across the room. "Try not to die."

I see a flash of red through the blinding snowstorm. I aim my pistol and shoot three times before it disappears. I hear a roar through the storm, and can barely see the outline of the monster's arms raised into the air before I'm dashing across the arena, dodging the cracks that appear in the ground.

***

"Coffee?" I ask brightly, pushing a cup towards the teenager. He scowls but takes the cup.

"That was a mean trick," he says, "I like coffee."

"No, messing with someone's lightsaber, that's a mean trick." I pause, "The coffee was just funny."

He's still angry, but he seems to be hiding a smile as well.

"Master Kenobi. In my study, you will meet me," says a voice over my comlink.

"Of course, Master Yoda."

Yoda shows me over to a glass case filled with crystals and gemstones. He motions me to look at them. I find myself drawn to a black piece of rock the size of my palm, smooth and glassy, with waves rippling over the surface. I stare at it, intrigued, and look back at Yoda for permission.



He nods.

I feel for the orange piece of Carnelian in my left pocket, reassured when it's still there. Turning my attention back to the shelf, I pick up the rock carefully, touching it only with my fingertips, and turn it to lie flat on my palm.

I breathe in, allowing the power in the stone to ground me. I feel...

"There's a darkness to this," I say, as if I'm in a trance. "It has a history with death, it's beautiful, it feels cool, the temperature, I mean. I can feel it echoing through me... ignacious, born of fire and now... cold, complete, rational -"

"Back on the shelf, you should put it," says Yoda sharply.

I set the rock back on the shelf, drawing a shaky breath. I want to pick up the rock again, feel for the green crystal that I know should be there, break it in two and give the other half to the person who should have it... Stop it, you're supposed to be Obi-Wan.

"See, you do, the power inherent in these crystals." Yoda says, "Yours, one of them will be, should you take on an apprentice."

I smile, leaning against one of the white walls. I'd wondered why the force-sensitive teenager felt so familiar. Amon?

I shake myself. "We have a mission," I say reprovingly, "Are you trying to distract me, Master Yoda?"

"Hmph. Dream of it, I wouldn't."

***





I take on the guise of Neal Caffrey, all smiles and warm handshakes as we bluff our way into Saito's mansion. Ariadne and Scott Summers back me up, along with four men and women in suits that follow us demurely.

Our whole group is surrounded by Saito's bodyguards, and my companions are feeling intimidated, grouping together until they're nearly touching elbows. I pretend not to notice, and focus on the conversation with Saito as he shows us around his mansion.

We stop by the swimming pool. We're more or less openly flirting right now, and I'm drawing on the Neal Caffrey personality in order to distance myself and appear more outgoing. My form is flickering now, male to female and back again, through half a dozen personalities before settling back on Neal. No one seems to notice.

I fall into the water, pleased to feel the shock of cold on my skin. It feels wonderful, and I let myself sigh in pleasure before I force myself to concentrate. I climb the steps up onto the deck, my clothes holding none of the moisture.

Saito is yelling at his guard for jostling me, and apologizes. I tell him not to worry, but that I need to talk to my doctor, as I may have broken one of my ribs. The man points out the change rooms on the other side of the pool.

"Doctor?" I say, holding out an elbow for Ariadne. She looks surprised, but catches herself and nods. She threads her arm through mine and we walk towards the change rooms.

"Doctor?" she hisses.

"It's improv, Ariadne." I say, smiling. "Just go with it."

We round the corner and Ariadne steps away, brushing at her arm. I flirt with her as she touches my temples, exposing the wiring there.

"I need to upload the schematics to your mind," I tell her, "So that I can stay behind while you get Xavier the information."

"And why is it you're staying behind?" She asks, skeptical.

"There's something bigger going on here," I say quietly. "I need to convince Saito I'm on his side. You get the others out, and I'll figure out what's going on."

Ariadne steps back, nodding reluctantly.

I decide to give Cyclops the information, since his visor will work as a direct transference point into his temples. (What?) A quick shock, and he's ready to head back home.

***

"Not so fast," says Saito.

We're standing outside in a courtyard, surrounded by enemies. The DCs in business suits are entirely useless, and for some reason, I have to keep them alive. Guards have automatic weapons trained on us, and I'm practically staring down one of the barrels as I raise my hands slowly, ready to talk my way out of this. Ariadne shoots me a look, clearly worried. Cyclops is ready to start a fight.

Saito is overconfident. I can use that, but I need to get the others away first. I need Yoda and Xavier to owe me a favour, dammit, and that isn't going to happen if I get their people killed.

Bright white light explodes from the far end of the courtyard, and a shockwave knocks the guards to the ground and disarms them. Not limited by human sight, I swing around to face the four pillars of light materializing on the ground before us. One of the pillars is wreathed in red flames that fan outward, scorching the earth around it.

The light coalesces into four human figures, three of them standing in a ring behind their leader.

He is never going to let me live this down.

"Castiel." I greet him, but the angel is already barking orders to the other three, sending them into the fray to grab my people and transport them back to the compound. Ariadne catches my eye as she disappears, and I can see all of the questions written across her face.

Until the only ones left standing are me, Saito, and Castiel. I let my false face fall away, and I turn to say something to Saito.

The dream fades.

Mansions of Silence. Scare Factor: 3.

Looks like Castiel and I are 1:1 for rescues.

Apparently, this dream follows directly after #118. Also, I'm stealing titles directly from Mike Carey's Lucifer.

07/26/10

Sam and Dean want to kill the devil. I "help".

Sam climbs into the passenger seat of the Impala and slips on the pair of sunglasses resting on the dash. He lets his head fall back onto the seat and rubs his temples. (I marvel over the strange purple glow of our surroundings.) The driver's side door slams shut, and he lifts up his head. Dean has his hands clenched tight on the steering wheel, and stares into the desert horizon with his jaw clenched. Frustration seems to roll off him in waves.

They're back on the road before either of them says anything.

"So," says Dean, "We can either drive to Death Valley, or fly to the Himalayas." His tone makes it clear what he thinks of the idea.

"Death Valley's closer."

Dean raises his eyebrows, "With our luck, do you really think the devil managed to stay stateside?"

"I'd rather go to the Himalayas, personally." I say.

The car almost lurches off the road. Dean twists around in his seat to look at me. "Don't do that."

"We have wooden stakes in the trunk." Sam says mildly. "Trickster."

"When has that ever worked?" I ask. "Anyway, why are we going to the Himalayas?"

"We're not." growls Dean. His eyes are back on the road.

"We're trying to kill the devil." Sam says reasonably.

"Oh," I say, nodding along. "Why?"

"You know," says Dean, "Prevent the apocalypse, save humanity, that kind of thing?"

"There's a system of doors in Tibet that lead into other worlds. A psychic we talked to said that Lucifer left traces in the mountains that are somehow tied to these portals."

"The Nevernever." I say. "Yeah, we should check it out. Keep an eye out for vegan faeries."

"Right, I'm sure they're vicious little buggers," says Dean.

"Oh, they are. Somehow, human flesh satisfies the parameters of their diet."

***

"Nice office," says Dean, flopping gracelessly onto a black leather chair. He puts his feet up onto the desk. Bits of dirt flake off of his shoes onto the polished surface, and I hide a grin.

Sam just looks annoyed.

"Most of the objects in this room move along certain paths," I say, "Like levers. Get the right arrangement and the door will open right up."

"Unless, of course, you know a shortcut." The voice is British, and female, and I turn around to study her.

"Bela." says Dean. "Back from Hell already?"

"Someone had a job for me," she says, holding up a gun and pointing it at him, "And I am very good at my job." She smiles. "By the way, you might want to hurry. I informed security you were here."

Our eyes are drawn to the other hallway, where we hear a door click open. I look back. Bela's gone.

"God-fucking-dammit," says Dean.

"You figure out the combination," I say. "I'll distract him."

I stride into the hallway without looking back. Standing there, looking livid, is a man in a business suit. He's big and round, and his hair is white where he still has any. He slams the door behind him.

"Do you know who I am?" says the man, furious, "Do you know what I could do to you?" He pulls out a gun and points it at me.

"Not much?" I say, pretending to consider. "Relax. We need your door to the Nevernever, and then we'll be out of your hair."

"Impudence!" He snarls, "Just like my youngest son! I'll have you all killed!" He starts ranting about his plan to have me implicated in a gay affair with his son, followed by an elaborate murder-suicide.

I peer around the corner into the main office, since he's not actually paying much attention to me. Like I'd hoped, the Winchesters are gone. I turn back to the man, who by this time is ranting incoherently. I cough politely, hoping to get his attention.

He stops, panting.

"While that's a very... impressive evil plan (and you wouldn't have much trouble framing those two for anything) there is one tiny little flaw."

"And what is that?"

"I don't die."

The old man laughs and raises his hand - only to realize that he's no longer holding the gun. He freezes in shock and I wave a hand, banishing the Corrupt Corporate Executive to the late 51st century. He really won't like it there.

I take Bela's shortcut into the Nevernever, circumventing the need to play with furniture again. I appear at the top of a cliff covered in vegetation, which overlooks a hotel swimming pool and hot tub.

Sam and Dean stand on one side of the pool, facing off against Bela on the other side. I look for a way down, but there isn't one. I resign myself to jumping the fifteen-odd meters, knowing that there's no way for the fall to hurt me. I aim for the tile floor -

Only to land on the very edge of the pool. My feet impact the edge of the tile floor and slip off the edge into the water. I grit my teeth, feeling my dream-body reset itself, and I pull myself back onto the deck.

"You okay?" Asks Sam.

"Fine," I say, standing up and composing myself. "I don't die, as a rule." I notice Dean's weapon is trained on Bela. "Neither will she, you idiot."

As if in response, Bela spits a gob of blood onto the tile.

"Oh," I say, "They gave you a time limit."

"Apparently we're looking for different things," she says, her voice low, "Don't get in my way." She turns around and disappears into the cave system on the other side of the room.

There's a collective breath of relief.

"So," I say, turning to the boys, "Did you have a plan?"

"Find the devil," says Dean, "Shoot him in the head?"

"So, where is the devil?" asks Sam.

"I don't know," I lie with a shrug, "You guys said you wanted to go to the Himalayas."

"You said the devil came here!"

"It's what I'd do," I say innocently. "Anyway, plane tickets are in Sam's backpack. I have to run."

When I disappear, Dean is looking a little green.

***

I find him in a warehouse, beside a cracked-open wooden crate. Empty green wine bottles litter the ground, and Castiel himself - back in his original vessel - is sprawled out on the ground, leaning against the box. He has a half empty wine bottle in one of his hands.

I appear next to the crate, eyeing Castiel thoughtfully. I grab a full bottle and sit down on the concrete, popping the cork with a thought. Castiel's eyes roll up to look at me.

"Bad day at the office?" I ask, clinking my bottle of wine against his.

His face twists into a frown. "Being rescued by Lucifer didn't exactly set me up for a promotion."

"Well, I'd tell you they'll get over it," I say, taking a sip of wine, "But this is Heaven we're talking about. That lot can hold a grudge into eternity."

Castiel snorts. "You're not helping."

"Should I?" I ask, genuinely curious. "You wouldn't accept any advice from me. I'm the Deceiver, after all."

Castiel is quiet for a long time. I go steal chocolate bars from another section of the warehouse.

A Dalliance with the Damned. Scare Factor: 3.

WakingNomad provided the narration for the warehouse scene. Somehow. I think Microsoft Word was open in another window while I was experiencing the scene itself.

Also, I've somehow rewritten Season 4 of Supernatural subconsciously. So yeah.

P.S. I make up most of my dialogue. I don't remember the exact wording, so I improvise. I am a vile, evil attention-monger, I tell you.

I feel like I'm writing bad fanfiction subconsciously. I find it interesting that in the past two months I've had several dreams that carry on from previous ones.

Also, more Lucifer.

07/23/10

Castiel gets captured. I offer to help with the rescue.

"Let him go, you bitch!" I shout.

"Oh, Dean," says Lilith. "You don't understand. You've already lost."

I hate losing.

I throw myself back through the dream, back through the sewers that lead to the Hellmouth, zooming back over flooded streets and abandoned rafts and into a warehouse that I fought my way through not long ago.(1)

I arrive before Sam and Dean Winchester ever found themselves ambushed here, taking up precious time in our search. I can't afford that loss again.

A man is kneeling on the floor at the center of the warehouse. His face and arms are bare, and I can see designs swirling everywhere on his exposed flesh in patterns of black and blue. The tattooed man paints symbols on the floor, dipping his fingers into a wooden bowl filled with something red and sticky.



"Damian Masters." I say tonelessly. My voice reverberates through the building. Damian stands up, startled, and I step out of the shadows.

"Who are you?" He rasps, panicked.

"Have you ever heard the name 'Samael'?" I ask him.

He shakes his head.

"I'm an angel." I manage to say it with a straight face.

Damian falls to the ground and bows his head. I try not to let my irritation show. "What can I do?"

"We have need of Dean Winchester," I say importantly. "Allow him to leave. Kill the other one."

"Of course," he breathes, "The boy with the demon blood."

I walk across the room, deliberately scuffing the blood sigil where it won't be noticed. I roll my eyes. "So mote it be." I say in a mocking tone.

***

Dean steps onto the oversized raft, stumbling a little as it bobs under his weight. He turns around and catches the knife Sam throws at him. He breathes out slowly once he catches his balance again. (2)

"Watch it, Sam. I don't want to go diving for this stuff." He rubs his eyes and sighs. "Be careful."

"You're doing the dangerous part," says Sam, rolling his eyes. "I'm just casting the spell here because it's on the right ley lines."

"Other people thought so, too," warns Dean. "That blood on the floor still looks fresh."

"Get on with it, Dean. Castiel's not getting out of Hell on his own."

Dean unties the rope from the pier and casts off, sending his brother a sarcastic two-finger salute. Sam grins and salutes back. He only watches Dean drift off for a moment, carried by the current through the flooded city. He picks up a canvas bag and spreads its contents over a table, ready to start the ritual.

He gets so caught up in his task that he almost ignores the little warning voice that goes off in his head. He dodges to the side as a fireball slams into the table, sending his ritual ingredients up in flames. Sparing no time for disappointment, he runs over to where the guns should be, only to find them... gone.

He turns around to face the other man. The tattooes on his face and arms, Sam thinks, they probably let him manipulate energy. The man's face is twisted into a triumphant grin, and Sam looks down, realizing he's at the center of the blood sigil on the floor. The tattooed man raises a hand, covered in glowing swirls, and presses it to the concrete.

***

His raft floats through the flooded city, guided by a spellbound current. The shadows of buildings jut out of the water, reaching toward the orange sky as if in their death throes. Barnacles cling to the rotting and rusting wood and steel. Some of the buildings have collapsed in on themselves, leaving twisted metal sitting low to the water. Dean steers carefully around them.



"Dean Winchester, yeah?"

Dean spins around with the knife raised. "Yeah? And who are you?"

The boat tips a little, and I look back at him, unimpressed. "I'm here to help," I say with a smile. "You can call me Lucy. Things will get confusing, otherwise."

"Really. Okay, Lucy," says Dean, "Why should I trust you?"

"You probably shouldn't," I tell him honestly, "But I owe Castiel a favour, and I pay my debts."

Dean eyes me suspiciously, but he lowers the knife.

"Excellent." I say. "Now, we have a problem."

"Of course we do."

"Castiel's vessels have gone missing."

"His vessel? The guy he's possessing?"

"The daughter as well. You haven't met them yet?"(3) I receive an uncomprehending stare as my answer. "Whatever. He needs a vessel, and you're it." A pause. "Don't look at me like that, it's only temporary."

"Why not you?" asks Dean, "That'd be a good way to pay back your 'debt', wouldn't it?"

"How many humans do you know that can teleport onto a raft in the middle of nowhere?" I ask impatiently. "I'm an occupied vessel; it doesn't work that way."

Dean is silent as I latch onto the decorative post of a balcony and bring the raft to a stop. "We're hee-ere," I sing-song quietly, stepping onto the concrete deck. Dean shoots me a look, hand hovering near the gun concealed under his jacket.

We step through the archway, into a cobblestone hallway filled with rot and mold. Dean's nose scrunches in distaste, but I can't smell anything. A rusted metal ladder is built into the opposite wall, and I make a motion towards it. Be my guest.

Dean eyes the ladder. "I thought we were going into the sewers."

"We are." I confirm. Dean looks at me askance, and I roll my eyes. "We're walking towards a gateway to Hell! You can't expect reality to work properly."

Dean makes a disbelieving noise, but moves to the ladder and starts climbing up it. I follow a few seconds behind, looking up to track Dean's progress.

Wow. Those are some really nice jeans.

Climbing up brings us a level down, and we trudge through muddy water and orange-lit brick until we find an opening in the wall. Dean and I stand on either side of it, catching our breath and shaking out our shoes.

"Are you ready?" I ask. "Lilith's on the other side."

"Ready as I'll ever be." Dean shoots me a grin. We step through the opening.

It's bright. The gateway is orange-white, shedding the room with stark light and bleaching out the red brick. Lilith stands near the doorway, hands clasped loosely over her white dress. Her blonde hair flutters in a non-existant breeze.

I squint against the light. "Claire Novak?" I say incredulously. "Oh, irony of ironies. Nice one, Lilith."



The little girl smiles pleasantly. "I thought it was fitting, using an angelic vessel as my own." She holds a hand up to the light, studying her fingers. "It was actually quite simple to burn out the angelic protections."

"You're borrowing from Azazel." I muse, "His bastardising the Winchester line."

"Demon blood," snaps Dean. "Can we get on with it? If this is a seal, what did you need an angel for?"

"An angel?"

"Castiel." I supply helpfully.

Lilith laughs, her voice clear and deceptively innocent. "Oh, of course," she says, "Heaven has him, and I have no more need of opening seals. Lucifer walks the earth."

"What?"

"Castiel's superiors were unhappy with his exercising free will," I state calmly. "They're currently re-educating him."(4)

Dean rounds on me. "Whose side are you on?"

"Huh. Good question. I'm still going to need at least one of the vessels." I say to Lilith.

"Can we go back to the bit where Lucifer is free?"

"Dean, your presence is extraneous at the moment," I say, tilting my head sideways as I look at Lilith's teenage meatsuit. "Shut up."

Dean looks about ready to hit me, but I wave a hand and he collapses.

"My lord?" says Lilith carefully.

"Not today." I say, "Tell me, what is it you're after?"

"The end of all things." She responds immediately. "The apocalypse, which you are destined to bring about." (5)

I smile as I approach her. "Destiny," I say, placing a hand on her head, "Is bullshit."

Lilith's demonic form - grey and wispy and spiralling out of control - is forced out of Claire Novak's body. The light grey smoke hurtles toward the Hellmouth, screaming. It stills a second, pulling with all its might against the vortex, before succumbing to the orange-white light, falling back into Hell. The gate closes, dousing the room in shadow.

I will definitely regret doing that at some point.

I push the thought from my mind. In the next moment, I'm pulling on an incorporeal thread, tearing Castiel away from the torments of Heaven and back into human form. Blinding white light fills the room once more, before focusing on the girl.

Castiel opens her eyes.

"Lucifer," she says magnanimously.

I grin. "Hey, Cas. You should probably go rescue your other vessel. And Sam Winchester. Dean's fine," I say, seeing Castiel look over at the unconscious man.

There's an awkward pause.

"Why did you -"

"You let me go." I say, "Now we're even." (6)

I disappear without another word.

Castiel stares at the spot for a moment, before going over to Dean and tapping him on the forehead.

***

When Castiel appears back at the warehouse, supporting a groggy Dean Winchester, Sam is leaning against a table with his arms crossed, facing the tattooed man. The man is currently trussed up and tied to a chair, his head lolling at an awkward angle. Sam doesn't take his eyes off him.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Dean demands, inconspicuously taking his weight off of Castiel's shoulders.

"I have no idea," says Sam, "He attacked me, tried to activate a blood sigil." In response to Dean's worried look, Sam shrugs. "It didn't work," he says, "The outer circle was broken."

"Well, that was lucky," says Dean, sounding suspicious. "Anyway, we've got bad news. Cas?" He looks around, only to realize that Castiel is already gone. "Damn it."

Devil in the Gateway. Scare Factor: 4.

1. This dream continued on from a previous one that I don't properly recall. I think I was Dean. Sam and I fought Masters, the tattooed man in the warehouse, but it slowed us down considerably. Sam still stayed behind to do the ritual, but it completely screwed things up for us. When I replayed the dream, I kept Masters from attacking Dean, and sabotaged the ritual at the same time. I think.

2. A good portion of this dream was in the third person. My character wasn't spying so much as I was watching cutscenes.

3. Supernatural 4x20 "The Rapture", which aired over a year ago. We meet Castiel's human host, Jimmy Novak, and his family. Claire, the daughter, is briefly possessed as well.

4. Actually happened in the TV series. Same episode.

5. This was Lilith's motivation in Mike Carey's Lucifer comic series.

6. I can't believe I remembered that. According to this dream, Castiel let me beat him in our last fight. I resent the implication.

In other complaints, why is teleporting so easy during non-lucids?

Also, I haven't been online much for the past couple of weeks. Summertime! I'll do my best to get caught up with everyone's DJ entries.

06/16/2010

The problem with world-class assassins is that everyone wants to kill each other.



An old woman hums tunelessly, pushing her squeaking cart along the grey-flecked tiles. Her nails tap tap tap against the stainless steel handle, along with a beat only she can hear. She slows the cart down, the wheels shrieking their protest, and smiles at the young man behind the desk, pointing to the ID clipped to her shoulder. He glances up, looking bored, and barely glances at the ID before waving her along.

The hospital room is single-occupancy, dim and empty except for the bedridden patient. He wakes up from a doze, looks at the woman in scrubs as she enters the room. She slides a platter off of the food cart and slides it onto the tray sitting across his bed.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Burke?" The woman smiles.

"Horrible," he manages, glancing up blearily as she injects something into his IV. "Anything good to eat?"

"Of course, dear. There's tuna sandwiches, if you like those."

He perks up a bit, and nibbles at the sandwich. It's decent for hospital food, he decides. He'll be glad to get back to his normal life, with four-course dinners and world-class chefs.

The woman is still there when he finishes the sandwich. "That was actually pretty good," he tells her.

"Well, it is my own special recipe."

His mouth is dry, and he can feel his heart beating faster. Burke frowns. He's sweating. "Excuse me," he says, "But could you get a doctor? I think the symptoms are coming back."

The woman is unhooking the machines monitoring his vital status.

"Don't worry," she says. "It has nothing to do with your heart attack, Mr. Burke." She smiles kindly at him. "My special recipe is called Chalk Tuna. The compounds I've used in your sandwich are reacting with the drugs in your IV. It's untraceable, almost completely undetectable during an autopsy... rather brilliant, if I do say so myself."

Burke's fingers twitch. He wants to reach for the button, to call a nurse, call anyone, but he can't move. He tries to shout, but his mouth won't open, his voice won't work. An icy sensation begins to crawl in from his extremities, cold and burning at the same time.

"It's also a paralyzing substance," the woman muses, "and it's an incredibly painful way to die."

She smiles fondly down at the man seizing on the bed. "Have a nice day, Mr. Burke."

The cart begins its squeaking journey back to the elevator. Burke shuts his eyes and tries to scream.

---

Matilda has approximately four minutes to return the cart and exit the hospital. After that time, the real nurse will make her rounds and find Mr. Burke dead, the machines having shorted out due to faulty wiring. The doctors will attempt to resuscitate him, but the poison in his veins will prevent this from taking effect. There will be questions for the young man at the desk in front of the elevator, but Matilda plans to disappear long before any suspicion can fall on her.

Without a suspect or a murder weapon, the incident will be written off as a simple heart attack, and Mr. Burke's son will inherit his company.

Stepping out into the sunlight of the alley, Mathilda allows herself a moment to bask in the enjoyment of a job well done. She feels a shift in the air, a chill, and a blade burrowing into her skull.

I sheathe the wrist-blade and let the body fall, watching impassively as the infamous assassin kicks up dust on the dry ground. She twitches slightly, extending a hand in a clawing motion before going still.

I leave the body where it is. There's sure to be a complicated frame-up job involving several people who want to take power, but I've done my part. As long as Matilda is dead, I can get out of here and -

I'm throwing myself to the side. A line of throwing knives hit the brick behind me. I take cover, diving behind a dumpster, throwing a fireball in the direction of my attacker.



He's on the roof across from me, I reason. I came down from the hospital fire escape, but he was hidden by shadows - damn! I don't have an escape route, and we need to get out of here before they start looking for Burke's killer. Unfortunately, the owner of those throwing knives is not someone to be reasoned with.

"Simon?" I shout, stepping out from my hiding place. He's on the roof. "I didn't know you were in town."

"Everyone's in town, Sam!" That's Simon, all right. He looks giddy, sounds like he's on a sugar high. The man's more of a sociopath than I am. "Haven't you heard?"

"Yes." Goddamned council didn't even ask before invading my city.

"And you got Matilda first! I've been wanting to take her down for ages."

"Creepy?" I ask.

"Creepy." He confirms.

My fingers twitch, ready to call up another fireball. Simon tracks the movement, and I change my mind. "Simon," I say, "Would you like to play a game?"

His face splits into a grin. "First to a hundred?" He asks.

"I was thinking the whole conference."

Simon laughs. "I like the way you think," his smile widens even further. "Shame I'm gonna have to kill you."

He lifts up a hand and I'm running before he presses the button. I round the corner and the alley explodes.

I love my job.

---



I'm on top of a mountain, looking down on the valley. The city is sprawled out below. I take a breath, feel the cool mountain breeze drifting through my lair.

Some days, it pays to be evil.

I turn around to where my mom and dad are sitting at a stone table, looking around and seeming confused. My brother is there, too, but he just looks hungover.

I go to sit across from them at the table. My mom's eyes narrow as she gets her bearings, and I can feel her light-based aura sparking unpleasantly. I try not to flinch.

"It's in our best interests," I say carefully, "to wipe out all of the assassins as quickly as possible. They'll be gathering at the convention centre. Now, we can't all go in -"

"Why is that, exactly?" my mom snaps.

I roll my eyes. "You're a Reader. They'll spot Your Holiness from a mile away."

"How exactly did you get into this mess?" asks my dad.

I paint a look of surprise onto my face. "You mean you don't know?" I ask incredulously. "Our family - your side of the family - have been Assassins going back hundreds of years! Well," I trail off, "The last one was in the sixteenth century." Good times, as I recall. Reincarnation can be so much fun.

My mom's aura is sparking angrily. I try to ignore it.

"Look, we need to wipe as many people out in one swoop as we can." I have a thought.

"Mom... isn't your cousin doing the catering?" I ask.

She looks at me suspiciously. "He is. Why?"

I let a smile form. "Have you ever heard of Chalk Tuna?"

Conferences. Scare Factor: 4.

So ends the 100th post special edition of Things to Run Away From Really Fast! I've been meaning to write this up for ages...

The only thing I can remember from last night's dream is that I had an extra pair of running shoes. They were orange.

A wizard violates the laws of nature when he creates human beings from scratch. And then there are zombies.

There's a shabby old farmhouse on the plain, over the crest of the hill. No roads lead to it, because in this time, there are no roads. If there's a hint of civilization in this place, it's what's been carved out of the land by its few inhabitants.



I knock on the door.

The door swings open and a middle-aged man with longish black hair answers it, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile when he realizes who I am.

"Amon." I say, "It's been a while."

He leads me inside, beaming. The inside of the house is bright and warm and filled with people. I notice the eight people in the room, most of whom are cooking and doing various odd jobs around the house. Amon is rushing away to go help with something.

I take an empty seat beside a kid who looks to be in his mid-20s. "I'm Eli," he says, "and the scary-looking guy across from me is Mark."

Mark glares menacingly from across the table.

"So, Eli," I say, "How did you come to be here?"

"Could ask you the same question." Mark interrupts.

Eli continues like he hasn't heard him. "I was a civilian consultant for the military back home. It's a long story, but the same thing that pulled all of us back here somehow pulled me in. So really, I'm from the future," he says happily.

Neat cover story.

"So, when were you from?" asks Eli.

"I need to talk to Amon." I say dismissively, and kick my chair back.

Mark stands up too, his pose threatening. "I don't know who you are," he says, "but you're not one of us. If you try to hurt any of these people, I will kill you."

I turn back to him, considering. "Duly noted."

I catch up to Amon outside. He's leaning against the wood siding of the house, staring up into the sky.

"So," I say, leaning against the wall beside him, "They're self-aware."

Amon pulls away from the wall a bit, turning to face me. "They are." He confirms. His smile becomes wistful. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Your own perfect little creations." I say, frowning. "You know, there's a reason the creation of human life is considered a forbidden art."

"Those laws don't apply here," says Amon. "And of all people, I thought you would understand why those rules are arbitrary."

"I care little for conventional morality, Amon," I say, warning in my tone, "But this is dangerous. As my student -"

"You taught me to choose my own path," says Amon. He gestures at the door. "This is what I've chosen. These are real people, ---." He lowers his voice. "I won't abandon them."

I can't stop a smile from creeping onto my face.

One of his creations comes outside to tell us that dinner is ready. The man is smiling and holding a bowl of potatoes and a wooden spoon. I try to ignore it, but I can't help but notice that his hands are shaking.

---

Over dinner, I keep an eye on the man with the potatoes. His name is Darryl, and he's a carpenter from the 1950s. At least, he thinks he is. In reality, he's a construct whose artificial soul is straining at the bonds keeping it in place. I'm surprised the others have lasted so long.

Eli keeps trying to draw me into the conversation, but I keep one eye on Darryl throughout the meal. He's getting progressively more pale and shaky, I notice, as Eli introduces me to a pretty woman in a dress, called Solara. She's either from an alternate, apocalyptic future or a rich family in the 19th century. I'm not paying much attention.

Because Darryl is stumbling, backing away from the table into the wall, and as he collapses, a wave of energy pulses outward, knocking over every construct at the table.

I calmly set down my fork, then stand up and walk over to Amon. "I hate to say I told you so," I tell him, "but it's time to go."

"No!" says Amon, knocking my hand away. He staggers back to the other end of the room, looking over the scene with horror. "I have to help them."

"Amon." I say, approaching like I would a wounded animal. "There's nothing you can do. We need to leave before you're affected, too."

"Yes." he says, eyes wild. "Yes, yes, I can't help them," He looks straight at me. "But you can. You can fix them."

"No." I say flatly. "This is a bad idea."

He's already started the process before I can protest further, pulling soul energy from a well deep inside him, gathering it up.

I can't stop him.

"Take care of them, ---," he says, struggling to hold together the colourless swirling energy he's holding in his hands. "Please."



The soul energy hits me at the same time I feel Amon vanish from existence, gone as if he'd never been there. The energy is a rush, but I control it effortlessly, and spin around to confront the automatons that are his legacy.

The thing that was Darryl comes charging at me, and I telekinetically smash it into the wall next to me. Its feet are dangling in the air as I examine it. Gari d'amon ex hadris, I chant in nonsense Latin. I let the body fall, boneless and broken to the floor.

Mark is still half-standing, leaning against a chair for support. He's been watching with the glazed look of a man in horrible pain, but he's still somewhat alert.

I approach him in much the same way I did the zombie, cautious. I nudge him back toward the wall with a tendril of energy, but I don't lift him from the ground or slam him into the wall.

"This is going to hurt," I warn him.

Mark nods and lets his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed. So assured, I grip Mark's artificial soul, pulling it into a ball from his chest. I twist my wrist, watching his hands clench into fists, and let trickles of the soul-energy I absorbed from Amon sweep into the artificial soul, strenghthening it.

I don't have time for anything more elaborate. I push Mark's soul back into his body, forcing it to slice through his veins in one swift motion, sticking it there. If he could get any breath into his lungs, he would be screaming.

I leave Mark on the floor, stepping over him to the other bodies. This just might work.

In the end, I only manage to save five of them, Eli and Solara among them. The other two, I simply put down, severing their nervous systems and absorbing the very last of their energies. The once cozy farmhouse feels oppressive, haunted by the wild energy that echoes throughout. We need to leave.
"You have water?" I ask a woman, whose name I don't know. She nods silently, looking back over the farmhouse.

"Well?" says Solara, gathering up her skirts and hiking out into the desert, the opposite way I came from. "Let's get going then."

Amused, I follow after her, followed, in turn, by the rest of the group. Mark stays close behind me, though I doubt it's to watch my back. More likely, he just wants to keep an eye on me.

Eli jogs to catch up, panting as he keeps pace with me. "So, what happened back there, exactly?"

"Amon was a necromancer," I say. "He wanted to create life, so he came here. He created you." I keep my eyes on the horizon. "He couldn't sustain himself along with all of you, so he sacrificed the rest of his soul to keep you alive."

Eli blinks. "Okay, that's completely unbelievable."

I look back at him and say without inflection, "The wormhole that brought you back in time dosed you with massive amounts of radiation that was going to turn you into zombies."

"Thank you," says Eli. "Why didn't you just say that the first time?"

Eli tries to catch up to Solara. I turn back to Mark and shrug. What can you do?

I could swear I almost see Mark crack a smile.

---

The next hill brings us the view of a tall, white-panelled manor not too far off. I wonder what could have made it; we're supposed to be in a universe devoid of all sentient life, after all. The rest of the party is just relieved to see a trace of civilization, so I suppose that it's worth the risk.

We trek up the gravel road (another oddity) to the house that shouldn't be there. Eli and Solara are running inside before Mark and I have a chance to check it out - which Mark isn't happy about. We meet them inside. Solara is twirling in circles over the hardwood floor, a smile on her face as she admires the high ceilings.

I'm trying to examine my surroundings on a deeper level, but something is blocking my senses. This place might seem like heaven to Solara, but something is very wrong.

Mark's dividing us into teams. He wants Eli and Solara to stick together on the main floor, watching for any signs of life (anything to keep those two out of trouble). He sends the two nameless constructs - people - off to explore the rest of the main floor while the two of us head upstairs.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you didn't trust me with the others." I say in a low voice, out of earshot from the rest of the group.

"I don't!" says Mark, turning around to face me on the stairs. I calculate a four foot height advantage. "You show up and suddenly, four of us are dead! What the hell do you expect?"

"If I hadn't shown up when I did, all of you would have been dead." I say, meeting his angry gaze.

"Do you remember what I told you, earlier?"

I tilt my head, walk up the last few steps until I'm standing far too close. "You said you'd kill me." I smile, and Mark takes a step back. "Would you like to try?"

We hear a scream from the main floor. Mark is rushing down the stairs toward the sound, shouting "Solara", and I follow behind at a more modest pace.

Solara has collapsed on the floor. Eli is backed up against the counter, faced by a wraith-like creature with rotting skin. Eerie green light seems to flow from its features, making the sunlight streaming in the windows seem colder somehow. Its flowing white dress seems to flutter in a non-existant breeze.

Revenant, my mind supplies me with, as it turns to face Mark. Controls illusions, typically feeds on travellers. It hasn't noticed me yet.

"Do you like my home?" the revenant asks Mark. He starts forward, but it reforms into the shape of a Chinese woman with long dark hair and modern clothing. It's someone he seems to recognize, and he freezes on the spot.

The revenant approaches him, raising one hand to his face -

I attack with a right hook to her jaw. I spin and lash out with a kick. I've left myself open. The revenent strikes with her claws, tearing my throat out. I laugh, the liquid splashing my clothes, and continue to strike at her.

Hang on, that's not fair.

What isn't? It's right on my character sheet; I'm immortal.

You should at least need some time to recuperate.

Nope.

Oh, come on, you get banished to the basement...

I take a moment to adjust to my new surroundings, dark and damp and distinctly underground. I'm in the cellar. I curse revenants in general to hell and back, but I'm not too terribly concerned with the constructs, either. Mark should be able to handle himself for a little while.

I take stock of the food in the basement, a lot of cereal and a working freezer - hey, Neapolitan ice cream. The others will be happy about that. The overhead light starts to flicker and I sigh. I see movement in the corner of the room, feel hairs raising on the back of my neck.

I spin around and catch the revenant by the throat. She's flickering back and forth between her wraith image and her human one, and I force her to the ground, crushing her windpipe. She claws uselessly at my arms, but it's too late, I've got too good of a grip on her. Unfortunately, revenants don't need to breathe, either.

There's a short flight of steps leading back to the kitchen, and I drag her up by the throat, letting her white dress drag over the dusty steps. I step into the kitchen, where the five survivors are standing around in a circle, trying to figure out what to do next.

Mark looks up first. "We thought you were dead." He accuses.

"I don't die." I say.

I throw the revenant onto the floor, where she scrambles back along the tile, surrounded by six very non-human travellers. "Now," I say, tilting my head to the side and smiling down at her, "How do we go about killing you?"

Character Creation. Scare Factor: 3.

There, I'm done. Finally.

Okay, guys. I'm done spamming the Recent Entries section, I promise.

Also, romance with a fictional character? Very lame. Thankfully, this can only end badly.

What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause—to use their own knowledge against them?



I'm browsing through the sale aisle at Bootlegger when I feel the temperature drop. Slowly, I place the t-shirt I was holding back on the rack, and reach out with my senses, feeling at the presence that appeared directly behind me. I can feel a stare burning into the back of my head, and I turn around, keeping my hands visible and obviously empty.

Standing there is a dark-haired man in a trench coat, staring at me without blinking. Aside from the creepiness factor, he doesn't appear to be a threat, but I can see beyond the physical. Cold light bleeds from his form, barely contained within his vessel, and I check my initial impulse to attack.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I ask, gesturing with my hands.

His expression doesn't change, though I notice a slight twitch of annoyance. "My name is Castiel. I'm an angel of the Lord." He says this tiredly, as if it's something he's had to recite a lot lately.



Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I've heard those words before. I'm still caught up in the feeling of deja vu when he says, "Luc, heaven has work for you."

The words jolt me back into the present. "Wait, what?" I say. "My name's ---."

"Of course it is." says Castiel.

I calculate my chances of being able to control the holy fire I'm about to summon. Blue flames start to dance across my fingertips and my claws lengthen in response to my irritation.

A ball of pure kinetic force slams into my side, sending me flying through the glass store-window. I pick myself up from the ground and spin to face my attacker, a man I barely get a glance at before I'm dodging another kinetic missile.

The force slams through the back wall of the shop, sending people screaming for cover. I roll into a crouching position and pull all the glass around me into the air. I throw the broken glass and the shards fly like bullets toward the attacker. Before they've even hit, I'm sending a wave of holy fire at him.

The incompatible energy burns ice-cold, sucking the heat from my bones. I collapse, shaking, fighting for breath. I manage to raise my head to look at the wall of fire that's burning on its own, and decide that it'll probably hold off the angels long enough for me to escape.

A hand grips the back of my shirt and hauls me to my feet. I look up at Castiel and groan.

"Bit of a trigger-happy bodyguard?" I complain, leaning on the angel for support. "Was that Lucifer? It looked like Lucifer." I mutter.

Castiel actually rolls his eyes. "We should depart. It would be best to avoid him for now."

"Oh no." I say, stepping back from Castiel on still-wobbly legs. "I can't take any more of your light-based heavenly magics right now. I say we walk."

Castiel just looks around our flaming surroundings. The building will probably fall down on us any second now.

"Fine." I say, closing my eyes and bracing for more hypothermia. I feel Castiel touch my shoulder, and a sudden lurch, and I open my eyes. We're standing in a three-car garage; concrete floors, white walls. The weirdest thing? I feel completely fine.

"Guess I've found an angel I'm not allergic to." I say, "Where are we?"

"Heaven."

"What?"

Castiel doesn't have time to answer. Flames are appearing from nowhere, licking up through the concrete floor and burning it away. The flames explode outward in a spiral and I shield as best as I can, but I can feel them lick at me, burning cold.

I'm running toward the door to the house, stepping onto the tile floor and slamming the door shut behind me. There's an inch of space left, and the door won't stay shut.

Last time, it actually closed the whole way, a little voice reminds me, but Lucifer is on the other side of the door, twisting the doorknob and I pull against the door, holding it shut from the inside. Lucifer is pounding on the door, causing it to rattle in its frame. I'm worried he might actually knock it down.

Of course, the fact that he hasn't is a little insulting.

"You know, I am way better at being you." I mutter.

I look around for something to brace the door with. The garage opens directly into the kitchen. Metatron is walking through on the far side, behind the island.



"Hey, Metatron! A little help here?" I say hopefully, still holding the door shut. It shudders against the onslaught.

Metatron looks down his nose at me. "Honestly, Luc, the lot of you are acting like children," he sneers, and continues on his way.

"My name is ---!" I shout at his retreating back.

The feeling of ice water is creeping back into my veins. I shiver and lean against the doorframe for support, gripping the doorknob with my right hand. I hear shouting from the other side of the door and the noise is lessening. Lucifer's not trying to get in.

When Castiel appears beside me, the room seems to get a little warmer. I'm clutching at the lapels of his trench coat before I even realize what I'm doing. The cold is fading away, though, and I decide that it's worth the awkwardness.

"Is he gonna back off?" I grumble into Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel tentatively places his arms around me. "Raphael understands that we need your help. So long as you don't burn down any more buildings, I think you'll be fine." He pauses, considering. "If he finds out that you mistook him for Lucifer, though, he might try to kill you again."

"Raphael." I blink, pulling away. "That makes more sense."

"I also recommend that you remain close to me," Castiel says, "Heaven's defenses seem to have an adverse affect on you as you are now."

I shiver. "Fair point. Now what the hell is it you want me to do?"

---

It turns out, the bright blue energy I've been playing with for the last few weeks has been wreaking havoc on Heaven's delicate ecosystem. For some strange, probably sinister reason, I'm the only one who can fix it.

Part of the living room has been torn away to reveal a crack in the dream-fabric. Blue electricity is spitting from the black chasm, and the angels in the room shy away from it every time it crackles. Castiel and I walk into the room without much fanfare, though the two angels hurry out as soon as we get there.

"Is there something I'm missing?" I wonder aloud.

"You need to absorb the Lux. We'll be able to repair the tears," says Castiel, pointedly not answering my question.

"So there is something I'm missing." I say, turning around to look at Castiel. "What happens to me if I do this?"

Castiel's face is deliberately expressionless. "You'll be able to withstand our defenses on your own for a time. Once we've repaired the tear, I'll return you to Earth and the Lux will fade away on its own."

I turn back to the tear, staring into the terrifying void, alive with crackling blue. It's breathtaking, in a way.

"---," he says, catching my elbow. I look back at him. "Please do this."

I smile and say, "I never could say no to you, Cas." It feels like I've said the words before.

Castiel pulls back like he's been burned, and I turn to the void, holding out a hand and bracing myself. I focus on the blue energy and pull -



It's like crashing headfirst into a star. The whole world is alive - burning - and I can see. I can see everything. I can see blue, blue, bright, light blue, and it's trailing after every living thing in the universe. I don't know. I don't know what it is, but it's not light, not like Heaven, not like the power Readers have. It's deeper, more primal, and it wants nothing more than to be free -

My world explodes with blue light, and my bits and pieces of awareness are interrupted by the intense humming of the Lux in my veins. I'm vaguely aware of strong arms pulling me away from the hungry black tears in the dream-fabric, of clutching at the rough fabric of a coat, trying to hold on to something tangible, before I'm torn away from him and left to calm down.

The next thing I know, I'm in the kitchen. I'm sitting on a stool at the island, propping my elbows up on the granite countertop, resting my chin on my hands. Most of my attention is on the movie being projected on the wall across the room. I have a vague recollection of choosing Dogma just to be obstinate.

Castiel walks in from the living room, looking neither more or less rumpled than he usually does.

"How'd it go?" I ask.

"We were successful, thanks to you," he says. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." I say, "Better than fine." I can still feel the Lux thrumming through my veins, offering me power beyond my wildest dreams.

As much as I might like Cas, he doesn't need to know that.

"We've done this before, haven't we?" I ask quietly.

Castiel looks away, and I catch his hand in mine. He meets my gaze, looking sad.

I let go of the breath I was holding. "Wish I could remember."

Our hands are still threaded together, and he squeezes my hand, says, "Let me take you home."

And we're standing at the center of an empty city square, bathed in orange under the afternoon sun. The cobblestones are warm beneath my feet, and the air is dry and still. Castiel and I are holding hands, and when I look up at him, my breath catches in my throat.

"We'll just do the same thing, Cas, over and over again. You know that."

"It has to be this way."

"It doesn't." I insist, but Castiel is already letting go of my hands.

"I'm sorry, ---." He raises two fingers to my forehead, preparing to erase my memories.

My force push sends him flying through a brick wall. Dust and mortar fly everywhere and the angel collapses in a heap. The rest of the wall falls in on him.

I'm standing with my palms outstretched, panting. I let my hands fall to my sides, and watch silver-white light leak from the pile of stones. I don't have much time.

I flee the square, running over the cobblestones and heading toward the cliff overlooking the rest of the city. I don't slow down; I leap from the cliff and focus on the rooftops hurtling toward me.

As I land, I blanket this section of the city with my black and red aura, sending my awareness out in all directions until only the blue-white energy is left. I can feel the pull to a place only I can find, and I close my eyes and let myself drift toward Lux.

Seven Minutes in Heaven. Scare Factor: 3.

Two girls hide in a closet behind the bathtub. The dream has been third person for a while now, focusing on the girls, who are part of a super-secret experiment involving clones or superpowers or whatever.

The Matron is walking into the room, and the pre-teen girls - Rae and Johanna - are hiding from her. Rae is about to leave the room and face her, hoping that she can still save Johanna from a horrible fate. Rae takes a deep breath and steps out into full view of the office -

Only to be blocked from sight by an adult stepping in front of the door. It's me. The Matron is coming in behind me, and I'm distracting her from Rae.

"It's always an... experience, hosting a representative of Cypher Industries." The Matron says, ushering me toward one of the chairs facing her desk.

"I've no doubt," I say, sending a wink at the girls hovering at the bathroom door. No doubt the Matron knows they're there, but she's ignoring them so far.

"If I may ask," she says, sitting down, "What brings you here? Our corporations have not been on the best of terms, as of late. Your safety is not assured."

"I'm supposed to give you this." I throw a sheaf of papers onto the desk in front of her.

She doesn't touch it. "And this is?"

"Oh," I say, rolling my eyes, "Roundabout legaleze that doesn't mean much. It's basically demanding access to what we consider to be our property."

"Really?" says the Matron icily, "And what property would this be?"

"You are in possession of two very special little girls. We want them; I'm taking them."

"Why shouldn't I kill you right now?" Her hands are folded on the table, her head tilted to the side.

"Oh, that's easy," I say, leaning back in my chair. "The term is 'Tactical Nuclear Missile Strike'."

"Excuse me?"

"My team is currently flying directly overhead," I say, leaning forward, "If I flatline, then they will immediately make the entire island -" I wave my hands, "Explode."

There is a beat of silence.

"Get out."

"I'll be taking the brats, then." I jump from my seat, smiling widely, and make for the door. "Pleasure doing business with you!"

Rae and Johanna are right behind me. The three of us run down the glass staircase, laughing, as the world unravels around us.

Corporate Sabotage. Scare Factor: 2.

...I am a psychopath.

I'm running away from something. I'm underground, and it's dark and brown and I propel myself forward upward through the cave system. The thing I'm running away from is catching up to me, but I realize that I'm dreaming. I spin on my heel, turn around to confront the creature. I feel an icy thrill of fear when I see it. An inky black miasma chokes the air around me, and I can feel the creature's energy trying to infect my every pore.

I use that against it.

I expand my awareness, absorbing the black energy and forcing it to change, twisting it into an approximation of my own energy. I blanket the creature in a cloud of soft red and black, my aura, and allow the energy to dissippate.

All of my surroundings are gradations of red and black, and I find the atmosphere calming. All that's left of the monster is a swathe of black fabric on the ground, and a round plush toy that doesn't make much sense. I step over the toy and peer out into a gigantic cavern.

The very air starts to hum. I can feel bright blue energy spiking through the dream, interrupting the calm dark colours, and the energies start to clash as everything fades to white.

Something Blue. Scare Factor: 6.

And then I went to the dentist's office and found this:


It's identical.

"Don't see why we had to take a job on this bo shui kueh piece of rock." I grumble to myself.

Mal steps onto the loading ramp. "Who's in rutting command here, Jayne?" He doesn't wait for an answer.

"All right everybody," he says to the crew assembled inside the ship. "We've got 'til nightfall before anything needs doing. With the exception a Jayne, here," he slaps me on the shoulder and ignores my growl, "You can all enjoy the benefits of civilization until that time. Kaylee? I believe you had something you needed to pick up..."

Mal goes over to Kaylee and discusses specifics of cost and necessity, and I pick up two 20-liter buckets full of water and start trudging into the muddy rainforest.

The first group of people I run into turn out to consider this a sacred duty or something, and decide not to kill me for this reason. That's really all I can remember up until the point that I join forces with a younger girl and go climb up a tower that just appeared. My boots have been traded out for the running shoes that I wear in real life.

The tower turns into an insanely high jungle gym, of the fall-off-and-you-die variety. The four people I'm with turn this into a game, describing the best way to get to the top. There are posts built into certain places for no reason, and these turn out to be part of the puzzle. I run up a 45 degree angle and slip, barely catching myself. I keep jumping upward until I'm climbing the underside of a slide. I've reached the top, and I'm just about to pull myself up -

I wake up.

Welcome to the Jungle. Scare Factor: 3. You know, Mal, as it is my dream, technically, I'm in command.

bo shui kueh: ...a restaurant? Apparently, I need to work on my Chinese.[/QUOTE]

I take the stairs two at a time, with Angel right behind me. We reach the top floor of the Ixburg apartment building, rounding the corner so fast I slide a bit. I practically crash into the door at the end of the hallway, and start to pick the lock telekinetically.

Angel stops me with a hand on my wrist. "What if your parents are home? We could be putting them in danger."

A bit of dread creeps into my stomach, and I try to ignore it.

"They haven't lived here for years," I say dismissively. I shake free and flick the door open.

The sound of thunder in the distance. "Quick!" I say, pulling Angel by the arm. I pull him into the apartment and slam the door shut.

My mom and dad are standing in the entrance, looking surprised. My brother is there, and Sam and Dean Winchester are off in the background.

"Mom. Dad." I say, "This is... great."

Silence.

"I want you to meet my boyfriend!" I say, threading my hand through with Angel's. "This is Angel. Angel, this is my mom and dad. Who are really not supposed to be here."

Angel is rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, but at least he's saving the "I told you so" moment for later. Ben, my brother, looks completely shocked, and the other Sam's face is melting.

In fact, everyone's faces seem to be shifting at random. Angel briefly flickers into Dexter, who flickers into... some random person I don't know, and Dean's not nearly as pretty as he usually is. Ben's someone completely unrecognizable, and I push through my parents into my room, waiting for the dream to stabilize.

I'm trying to figure out how to fit both a desk and a double-sized bed into my childhood bedroom when Angel walks in. He's looking somewhat normal again. At this point, we decide, we have to stay here. The Wild Hunt will tear their way through my family whether we're here or not, so we might as well stay to protect them.

I'm having a shower when, through the window, I see a group of my brother's friends running over the lawn. Apparently I'm in the basement. I run outside, fully clothed, and look back at the building I was just in. It's an approximation of my parents' duplex, though it's currently worn down and the entire back yard is yellow and covered in weeds and vines.

I spot the group running through the back yard and I give chase, catching up and tackling the one that's supposed to be Ben. I pin him to the ground, yelling that this is a dream, and the rest of the group stands to the side, eerily still.

"Could you give us a minute?" I say, hauling my brother to his feet. "I have some questions for my brother."

I'm pretty sure this DC isn't my brother, but rather an impostor sent by Mab.

And apparently I was right, because a second later, the group of teenagers shift into unearthly horsemen and hellhounds. Mab herself appears from nowhere, wearing red and riding a horse that just might be an animated skeleton.

Mab demands my surrender. I decline.

Half a dozen faeries rush me at once. I hit the first two with a rush of pure kinetic energy, liquefying their organs and taking them out of the fight. I disarm number three and stab him in the gut with his own green dagger, letting the body drop to the ground as I pull the weapon free and look to my next opponent.

And I see, again, a trail of bright blue energy following my movements, latching onto the Fae and pulling their energy toward me. One of the fairies' power is surprisingly in tune with my own, and I hear a voice telling me to use it.

At first, I think it means the dagger, but as I focus on the energy I'd just absorbed, I realize that this isn't the power of a foot soldier. This is bigger, and I feel myself drop away from the dream, ascending higher and higher until I can see all of the stars and the Queen of the Wild Hunt is just a speck I can only barely see, and I suddenly understand why she thinks so little of those around her, because everything is so small...

When I come to awareness, Angel is next to my bed.

I groan, shielding my eyes from the light pouring in the window. "Some help you were." I grumble.

He snorts. "While you and Mab were unconscious, most of the Fae just wanted to chop off your head and be done with it. I had a hell of a time getting you out of there alive."

"I woulda been fine."

"Right." He looks dubious. "And the Dreaming?"

I look up, pulling myself into a sitting position. "This is a dream, that was a dream." I sigh, "When I wake up, I'll be reality checking all day."

The Hunt. Scare Factor: 3.5. Low-level lucidity[/QUOTE]

I'm having multiple writing-things-down-in-my-journal dreams (in one night), which is really annoying when I actually wake up and find it blank. Occasionally I can remember bits and pieces of what I wrote, but still: irritating. Apparently I'm going to have to RC more while I'm journalling.

In one of my fragments, Neil Gaiman was trying to take over the world. Apparently he's on Time Magazine's Most Influential People list, so this wouldn't be too surprising. Oh, and he's capable of adding to historical mythology.

Be afraid.

The Heist:

I'm robbing an art gallery. This is the easy part, casing the place, looking for details that might assist us in our escape. It's near closing time, and we need to know exactly how the staff shuts the place down - so we're posing as tourists, waiting to be shuffled out of the building.

The place is huge, large enough to have their own conservator on staff, a woman that I'm talking to right now. I'm pretending to be a collector, probably talking about donating a piece to the public collection. We're discussing the minutiae of restoring a particular piece, a thirteenth-century painting that I actually have no interest in (ie: we're not stealing it).

"Where are the security cameras?" I ask her. After all, I want my donation to be safe. I've spotted one camera in the entrance lobby, but none in the main areas or at the employee exits.

"Oh," says the woman, "We don't have any."

I look at her blankly for a second. "Well," I say, "That's stupid."

I look over the woman's shoulder at Johanna, the blonde ghost girl from #59, Ghost Ship. My accomplice is decidedly un-ghostly today. She's with a tour group, examining the high-tech vault that our prize is locked in. The metallic display swivels around, forms a coffin-like shape, and seals itself away, fitting like a puzzle into the tile floor. The rest of the group applauds enthusiastically, but Jo limits herself to a small smile, eyes glittering with anticipation of the challenge.


Jayne Wisener Johanna

I signal Johanna and say goodbye to the conservator. We shake hands and she tells me to contact her if I have any questions. I assure her that I will, and I slip away into the back hallways of the art gallery, off limits to the public.

Jo meets me at our planned escape route, one of the employee exits that requires a code to leave without setting off the alarm. I notice the visible red laser line over the floor, which could be stepped over easily, but the door is alarmed as well. I hear a voice over the intercom, saying that the museum will be closing in a few minutes.

There's a keypad beside me. I enter the code, which I gleaned from the mind of the conservator when I shook her hand. This is why Jo and I work together well: I get the information and she steals the priceless artifact. We split the danger and the cut. And I do my job well - the outer door swings open, and the alarm switches off.

"All guests have two minutes to exit the building," says the intercom. Jo and I grin at each other and step out into the alley. We pile into a small green car with a few other girls. This was our test run. We'll come back tomorrow night and pull the real heist.

We've stopped at a hostel/diner/convenience store. While waiting in line, I'm looking through the racks for a pair of sunglasses that don't make me look like a girl. Everything's sold out though, and apparently I already bought the last pair of sunglasses, which are either broken or missing.

DCs have been telling me, for the last few minutes, that I'm late for the Evil Meeting of Evil. This is, apparently, not a good thing, as the meeting is headed by one of the organization's scariest members. I remember being appropriately terrified earlier in the dream, but now, semi-aware, I can't see why I should be afraid of a DC. When I step outside, I see minions of the League on rows of fold out chairs, under a bright blue sky. Odd.

The terrifying speaker is a black woman with straight, shoulder length black hair, who bears a remarkable similarity to Zoe from Firefly. This, of course, means she's a badass character who I should probably Run Away From Really Fast, but instead I pretty much ignore her as she yells at me and tells me to sit down.

Not!Zoe continues her pep-talk, and I wander back into the building, finding myself in a hostel-style dorm room filled with bunk beds.

The first person I notice is a Legion-style, long-limbed teenager. I'm fascinated by how tall he is, and by the way he's swinging from what are effectively monkey-bars suspended by the bunk-beds. Apparently, the boy can't support his own weight. He stumbles into the diner/convenience store area, and his mom snaps at me not to stare.


What are you looking at?

I turn around, and suddenly there's a high speed bundle of white lace crashing into my arms. I catch the little girl as she throws her arms around me, demanding a hug from a complete stranger. I stand there awkwardly, regaining my balance.

The mom rolls her eyes when I look at her, and tells me that the girl used to suffer extreme pain when anyone touched her. Now she's cured. Okay...

I leave the strange family behind and go back outside to deal with my fellow villains. Who want me to become Doctor Insano. I tell them that I really would (I have my lab coat on and everything), but I can't find my swirly goggles - I only have a set of pink ski goggles, and those just aren't the same.


So yeah.

Johanna and I are back in the art gallery, along with another girl, Macy, who's actually outside. Macy was with us in the getaway car, and she's possessing her pet cat (her spirit animal) so we can have another set of eyes on the inside. The cat is darting through the gallery's hidden places, under tables and behind exhibits, practically invisible unless you know what you're looking for. Jo and I are about to split up, while I keep the entrances clear, when we're interrupted by the most ominous sound I have ever heard.

"KITTY!" shrieks a delighted, childlike voice. This is followed by a chilling snarl from Macy's cat.

I turn around to see that the cat is a charred pile of fur and skin on the floor, and the little girl from before looks absolutely stricken. I look upward and sigh, knowing that we won't have a chance at the painting at this point.

I'm waving at the little body, willing it up from the floor, and slowly toward the side door. At the same time, Jo and I are having a heated discussion over who gets to take care of the girl without making a scene. More so than the fireball and the crying child already have, anyway.

"Me?" I ask incredulously, "I'm not a Meta!" (I don't have superpowers.)

Jo sends a significant glance at the cat magically floating out the door, and looks back at me with a raised eyebrow.

Well, I can't argue with that.

I go over to the little girl and ask if she remembers me. She nods her head and I hold out my hand, and we all go outside.

Jo is over with Macy, who's a sobbing wreck on the ground, leaning against one of the tires of the car. She's looking at her cat, lying on the dirt a few feet away from her. Apparently, her experience was slightly traumatizing.

I lead the girl over to the cat, and kneel down beside it. I give a heartwarming speech involving the importance of responsibility and compassion, and tell her how important it is that we keep our powers under control. Then, waving a hand over the cat, I tug at it's life energy, and the cat gets up and wanders over to Macy.

"There," I say, getting up and dusting myself off. "No harm done."

An alarm starts to blare from within the gallery.

"Son of a bitch!"

All of us pile into the backseat of the car, which is suddenly filled with half a dozen girls, and we speed away.

The Heist. Scare Factor: 3.

I'm river rafting with a group on the backs of whales/fish/squid/leeches. The creatures swim down the river with one side of their bodies facing up, which turns from pink to silver in the sunlight. They turn over after a while, so we have to stay on top of them.

My creature is about to turn over, so I jump onto the shore and let it. I throw one smaller creature back into the river where it got caught somewhere. I watch a kid's creature turn over and throw him into the water. He comes up on the other side, laughing.

I'm back in the water, swimming on my own. I'm wearing running shoes, which really limits my swimming ability. We'll be hiking later though, so I can't go barefoot.

An enemy is on the shore, aiming something at our group. I'm swimming through fairly deep water, but I jump up and land a flying kick on the henchmen, knocking the gadget aside. There's another one farther into the forest, and I rush at him -

shift

I'm driving through one of the main intersections in Quickton. The stoplights facing me are blinking orange, the adjacent stoplights are blinking red. I drive through the intersection, thinking about the DC I'm trying to help / is helping me.

I'm biking down one of the pathways near my house. I wonder how I'm going to meet up with her again. On impulse, I pull out a blaster and shoot two Star Wars-esque red laser blasts into the sky. I consider that we should have used that as a signal. I shoot a couple more just to see what the range of visibility is.

The signal starts coming up elsewhere in the city. Sirens go off. Uh oh. I stow my blaster under my jacket (it's too long to sling across my back; the barrel pokes up under my collar) and quickly pedal home. I do have to wonder how video game characters manage this.

I end up in an oh so messed up version of my backyard. I'm setting my bike against a fence and am about to haul it over into my half of the back yard (it's a duplex), when, for no apparent reason, I realize that I'm dreaming.

I don't see a reason not to leave the bike where it is. I decide to play along with the dream and get rid of the gun, so I walk into the garden shed and hold the blaster up along the wooden wall. The wall folds out and clamps onto the gun, and when it folds back you wouldn't even know that we were stockpiling an armory. Then I stare at the inside of the shed for a moment, marvelling at the detail and how real this all seems. I can feel my body, the scratch of the jean jacket I'm wearing, my feet on the ground.

I shake myself out of it. I had plans for a lucid, right? I was going to... meet Walms. Right. Now, how am I supposed to get there?

Stepping out into the bright sunlight, I extend my right hand, intent on peeling through the layers of the dream. Something goes wrong; I can't feel them.

"What are you doing?"

There's a guy my age standing on the lawn in the back yard. Short blond-ish hair. Let's call him Derek (I haven't used that name yet, have I?). He doesn't look much different than I do in dreams. Similar clothing, too.

"You know what?" He says, when I don't answer, "I don't care. See ya."

Derek jumps through a hole in the lawn. It's shimmery, like a puddle, but it doesn't reflect the blue sky above. It reflects a different sky with a setting or rising sun, shot through with pink.

I jump through the puddle.

I hit sand on the other side, startling Derek. "Um, hi." I say.

"I wasn't expecting you to follow me," he admits.

"Yeah, well..." I look around, taking in the view. We're standing on a beach, looking out over a sunset. "Huh. I think I have a [desktop wallpaper] like this."



We spot another puddle in the sand. "You coming?" he asks me.

I nod.

We jump. The other side is more blue-tinged. It's still sandy, but everything is underwater.

"So, you've gotta be looking for something, right?"

I try to answer, but the words come out garbled.

Derek rolls his eyes. "You know this is a dream, right? You wouldn't have been able to follow me otherwise. You can still talk."

I take a breath, feel cool air enter my lungs. Breathe out, breathe in. I try again. "I'm looking for a guy who calls himself 'Walms'".

Derek looks at me, incredulous. "You don't even know where you're meeting him? Jesus. I could take you to a place, but I don't think I can help you find someone you don't even know."

False awakening. I feel the dream fall apart around me, and become aware of my body lying on the bed. There is bright white light everywhere, and I can still feel the remnants of the previous dream around me.

I fade back into the dream. I'm back in the dream-warped backyard, sitting on the lawn. Derek is standing beside me. I swear, if he rolls his eyes any more, they'll stick like that. I go over where I left my bike and lift it over the fence. Derek says something.

[I]Puddles. Scare Factor: 2. Reaction: Okay, Mr. Negativity.

We're driving down the highway in a tan-coloured Oldsmobile. The driver seems to think the speed limit is optional, which really wouldn't bother me, only he doesn't actually have his license yet. Also, he doesn't seem to be in control of the vehicle, if the wildly oscillating steering wheel is anything to go by.

"Whoa! Whoa!" I shout from the backseat. "Oncoming train, ONCOMING TRAIN!"

"Ben, stop," says my mom from the passenger seat.

Ben reluctantly brings the car to a stop before we get to the train tracks. I breathe out a sigh of relief and glare at my brother.

"You know," says the fifteen-year-old comfortably, "Sam could totally supervise my driving -"

"NO!" My mom and I say simultaneously.

Ben slouches in his seat and gets the car moving again, now that the train's past. The car gradually speeds up, and he throws my mom a look that reads See? I can totally drive without giving Sam a heart attack.

A copse of trees blocks the road a little bit farther along. It's night. We need to hike through the trees in order to get to the road on the other side.

We're not a few steps in before I can feel a tingling feeling up my spine. I sense a malicious intent, which lingers, as if the blood that's been spilled here has never properly washed away.

"We should hurry," I say quietly. "This isn't a good place." I should know, this is my dream after all. Vaguely, I wonder if this is going to turn into a nightmare. If it is, am I sensing evil, or creating it?

There are men sleeping, haphazardly strewn over the grass-covered ground in various garishly coloured sleeping bags. I hurry Mom and Ben along, out of the campsite through a path in the bushes. I know it the moment the men wake up.

"Go! Go! I'll meet you at the car!" I shout at my family. Somewhere between eight and a dozen men come rushing onto the path, heedless of my attempts to block them. I can't move, I can't shout, I'm completely helpless -

"KIYA!" I lace a high-pitched shout with all of my fear and anger, forcing the men's attention onto me. I move out into the middle of the clearing, still pulling their attention, focusing on the present rather than the danger that faces the others. I need to be able to move.

"KIYA!" I shout in challenge, feeling ridiculous, catching a third-person view of myself as Eliza Dushku.

A man runs at me, using his momentum - and considerable bulk - to ready a skull-crushing punch. I sidestep. He misses. I use his momentum against him, throwing him out of the way.

It's on.

Another man rushes me. I catch him by the arm, twist, breaking it. I throw him over my shoulder and he crashes to the ground, where I aim a kick at his neck, killing him instantly.

Two come at me. I send one stumbling with a kick to the solar-plexus. He trips over the corpse and I disable the other one with a ridge-hand strike to the throat, crushing the windpipe. He collapses to the ground, gasping for air, and I'm already rushing a stunned thug, sweeping his legs out from under him. I pound three high-powered kicks into his left temple before he can blink.

A thug is picking himself up from beside his friend's corpse, looking enraged. I'm behind another one, hand across jaw, and I pull, breaking his neck. I don't see Trippy until he has a hand around my throat, lifting me until my toes barely brush over the ground. I twist, tearing - tiger claw - rigid fingers across his face, ripping into flesh. His grip slackens and I turn around to meet another attack, evading arms and deftly clawing an eye out of its socket. He's out of the fight.

One of the smarter ones is readying an incantation - I'm in front of him. I grab, twist, tear his arm off, leave him to bleed out.

Another. I aim a kick for his groin, surprised when I hit the inner thigh. Hard. Time slows for the others, and I admonish myself for losing focus. Concentrate on the dream. I pull my leg in, I lash out with a side-kick to the groin. He's down. I smash his head in.

I hear a dark chuckle from across the clearing. Trippy is struggling to his feet, one hand pressed against his bleeding face. He laughs. I want to know what's so funny.

"You think we're monsters." He laughs again, eyes closed for a moment.

He's down before he knew what hit him. I kick him repeatedly, into the gut, into the side of his head, until he's nothing but a mangled corpse leering at me with a dead grin.

I put down the others with brutal efficiency.

I meet Ben and Mom at the car, which happens to be a Chevy Impala. Not meeting their eyes, I mention that we're going to have to wipe down the car, inside and outside. Apparently it was used to run over people while I wasn't looking. I'll have to dispose of these clothes, too. They're black, so I can't see the blood-spatter, but I just murdered a bunch of unarmed humanoids, and there was blood spraying everywhere, so -

"I'll clean the car," says my brother.

I take a deep breath. "Yeah. We should go."

---

Some time later, I meet up with an alternate version of my mom, driving the Oldsmobile. We talk about the forest/campground, but she isn't entirely sure what I'm talking about. In her world, we kept driving right past the damned place.

I get to thinking about alternate endings...

---

They have Ben. My mom has disappeared, but they have Ben and he's a prisoner of these things and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

There's a young boy, maybe ten, being carried from some kind of ceremony, half naked. I have a bad feeling about this.

I take a breath, calm my mind. I can stay out of sight for now, wait for an opportunity to rescue him. I'm practically incorporeal right now; it's not like I could do much anyway. Although, I think, as I watch them drag my struggling brother out of sight, waiting could be easier said than done.

---

Colourful round wooden tables are interspersed throughout the clearing. I couldn't see the place before I followed Ben in. My brother is sitting at one of the tables, eating the same grilled cheese sandwiches as all the other humans. On his left is the vampire he's been bound to, and on his right, a human slave, eying the former nervously.

I get a bit of insight from the slave, who, apparently, was a member of the local Resistance before he was captured. He still hasn't quite lost the suicidal tendencies.

"You realize," he says to Ben, keeping his voice low so the vampire won't notice, "That these things are just using you, right? We need to fight them."

Ben snorts. "You're just saying that because they're planning to eat you."

Apparently they keep humans as cattle. Charming.

Also, Ben's been brainwashed. This could be a problem.

---

I'm watching the loading area, a gravel parking lot leading into the back doors of the complex. An Oldsmobile drives in. I move closer.

A group of three or four slaves is conversing with the driver. One of them was talking to Ben earlier. Kel, I think his name was. I recognize the leader of the group: Damon. Fanatic.

"What do you want with the Aur'i, Reader?" Damon asks, as my mom steps out of the car.

"Your masters have taken one of our own." Mom tells them coldly. "We want him back."

Fuck me. Readers' powers are the opposite of my own, divine while mine are hell-powered, and they're positively toxic to the Aur'i (vampires). They're more of an allergy, for me.

"The boy, yes?" says Damon, "What of the girl?"

Ah, the Dushku persona.

"Not one of ours," Mom says, "She didn't violate the Accords by attacking you."

"A pity," says Damon. "I'll pass along your message to our Masters. You may leave now."

Ignoring the slight, Mom tips her head and goes back to the car.

Damn it. I've got to get her a message before she leaves. I take off along the side of the complex.

---

"Sokka Katara Sam!" Ben gasps, clutching his head. I hear him, glad that he's finally broken through the mind control.

Lay low.

---

I break out into a full-on sprint, moving as quickly as I can around the back corner of the loading bay. When I stop, I hardly even notice that I'm not out of breath. I wave my arms at my mom, staying carefully out of the slaves' sight.

I gesture towards some scaffolding near my hiding spot, which should be hidden from any observers. My mom exits the car and heads toward the spot I indicated, and I slink along more carefully, hidden by the various construction materials along the way.

"You had to choose this spot?" asks my mom, visibly shivering.

I'm surprised, but I look more closely at the wall. There's warding magic emanating from it.

I smile sheepishly. "I can't feel it like you do." I tell her, "My power meshes with the place."

"We'll talk about it later." She pulls an iron chain out and throws one end to me.

I catch it. It feels like ice-water is crawling over my skin.

Covered by the protection of the chain, I explain the situation, highlighting the layout of the compound and detailing Ben's chain to the Aur'i. I'm so caught up in the story that I don't notice the patrolling slaves have noticed us. Noticed the chain, rather, since we're invisible.

"That is a forbidden magic here," says Damon, indicating the iron chain.

"Is it?" I ask, adopting a really bad light Jamaican accent. "It is looped through this equipment like a spider's web."

"The reader," hisses Damon.

"You're Nomad?" asks Kel, indicating a nationality.

I glance back at Mom, but she's disappeared along with the car. Good.

I have an image of dark skin and bright colours. I take the appearance of the girl in my mind's eye and let the chain fall from my hand.

I can work with this.

I Am Legend. Scare Factor: 5.[/QUOTE]

Ariel, Samael, Rick.

The group of survivors have made it to an open courtyard surrounded by stainless steel fencing. The entrances are similar to cattle corrals, and apparently zombies aren't smart enough to get in. The horde is separated from us, but a few renegade zombies are still trying to eat us.

"Oh my god, just shoot them already!" shrieks a girl with dark hair. There are probably half a dozen of us, but only two guns. A shotgun blast goes off, taking out the zombie. The man holding the gun starts reloading. The blonde woman with the other gun lays down cover fire.

One of our members is somehow a conscious zombie, fighting off other ones and getting bitten in the process. The bites don't bother him much.

A zombie no one else seems to have noticed is sneaking up on one of the youngest, unarmed, members of our group. I curse, and rush the zombie, blocking the kid from its view. The thing immediately starts in on me, and, stupidly, I let it close enough to get in a bite.

"Fuck!" I shout, calling the attention of the rest of the survivors. I grab the zombie's head and twist the neck, severing the spinal column. The zombie drops limply to the ground.

I put a hand to the side of my neck, wincing when it comes away sticky with blood. I can already feel the wound starting to close. I look up, noticing that the man with the gun is eying me speculatively, his shotgun fully loaded and pointing straight at my head.

"Rick," I say, warning in my voice. "Don't even think -"

He pulls the trigger. My head explodes in a spectacular fountain of red chunks.

I come to some time later. I sit up in the grassy field, and I'm covered in my own blood. I purge the various fluids and chunks of brain matter with a thought, and stand up, cursing Rick's entire family tree as I do.

Already, there are more zombies shuffling toward me.

They scurry away when I send a telepathic, high pitched whine toward them, scrambling what's left of their brains and causing blood to pour from their ears. The closest zombies collapse immediately, the rest stay away.

I head toward the stone building. A school, before the apocalypse hit, and by coincidence, the perfect place for a bunch of insects to make their last stand.

---

The blonde woman is on edge the moment she sees me. "You're dead." she accuses, bringing her own shotgun up to fire. "Sam, I'm sorry, but -"

"You know, Ariel." I say, casually swatting the gun away, "That didn't work last time."

Ariel lowers the weapon when she hears my voice. "How the hell?"

"None of your goddamn business." I say brightly. "Now, where are the others?"

She's suspicious. "You know Rick meant well, right?"

"By shooting me in the head. I know. And I considered slaughtering every one of you without mercy," I say, willfully ignoring Ariel's horrified expression, "But the world would be so boring without any humans to torment."

Ariel makes a choked sound.

"So let's call an end to your little scouting mission," I say, starting down the concrete tunnel, "And go find the others."

If I can't kill them all, I can at least look forward to the expression on Rick's face.

The Devil You Know. Scare Factor: 2.

ETA: It was just like this, actually.[/QUOTE]