1 comment on "I hate being poor; ATR-not; Excerpt: The Anomaly"

The plans are as follows:
1. Paint the Kid’s room.
2. Grow and eat mung bean sprouts.
3. Get him a BMX bike.
4. Buy him clothes for school.
5. Wrap up all old stories.

* * *

OMAKE

Being a retiree wasn’t so bad. Not when he halfway felt as though everyday they lived like normal people was one more day when he’d kept the world safe.

Warrick would never say anything, but checking up on the things Vereint had gotten up to while he was indisposed and reading a few essays floating around the Internet about the minds of supervillains had really freaked him out. It was obvious that Vereint had gone a bit psycho.

It was somewhat flattering to think that he was the only thing protecting the world from Vereint going full scale SUPERVILLAIN Darkstar. He got to have the love of his life and save the world at the same time. Blue Ice was dead, but Warrick felt like more of a superhero than he had in a long time.

Having Nick manifest his first metabilities was a bit worrying. Warrick didn’t quite know how he was supposed to handle things, but he managed to at least look like he wasn’t throwing hysterical fits so he considered it a win. Vereint wasn’t even trying to cover up the fact that he was freaking out. It made Warrick feel a bit superior to be the controlled one for once.

“Remember, no showing off,” Vereint said with a pointed look at Nick.

“It’s fine, Dad.” Nick rolled his eyes, but didn’t try to move away when Vereint tugged his jacket straight. “I got this.”

A quirky smile curved Vereint’s lips as he looked at Nick. “You’re growing up really fast. Just don’t expect to get your own car until you’re twenty-five.”

Warrick moved in when it looked like Vereint was about to spit on his hand to smooth their son’s hair. “We’re going to be late.”

Vereint let himself be tugged away from Nick. Warrick wrapped his left arm around Vereint’s shoulder, less as a comforting gesture and more to hold him back from his fussing.

“I guess we better get out of here,” Vereint said.

Nick looked proud in his suit and tie, his hair styled to look careless and windswept. He had Vereint’s dark hair and Warrick’s blue eyes and was growing up to be a good looking kid. When he grinned, it was to show off Vereint’s dimples in a charm that no one could deny. “I look good, right?” He stuck his hands in his pockets and spread his jacket wide for a moment.

“Don’t get a big head.” Warrick clapped Nick on the back and nudged him toward the door. Vereint stayed curled against his side, their legs almost tangling when they stepped out on the porch. Warrick refused to let him go.

They walked up the sidewalk as a group, meeting up with others making the journey. Boys and girls dressed in their best clothes, excited younger siblings bounding around, and indulgent parents trailing along. It was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, this stream of people all headed toward the country school.

Warrick had never imagined that a child’s graduation between grades was such a big deal, yet here they were. Vereint was beaming with pride and fiddling with the camera hanging around his neck. Nick spotted a couple of his friends and ran up ahead. And suddenly they were taking a romantic stroll.

“Are you going to write about this in your diary?” Warrick asked.

Vereint slanted him a confused glance. “Huh?”

“Never mind. It was stupid. Life is good.”

“It is.” Vereint gave Warrick’s shoulder a squeeze.

Warrick smiled contentedly.

He had a husband he loved and a son graduating the fifth grade. He had sixty-one years of life experience and a thirty-one year old body. There wasn’t much more that he could ask for. Life was good.

/EXCERPT

* * *

They gave him the name Gellar Rembrandt when he was decanted. One more Bottle Baby sent off to the creche. And as soon as he had a mouth full of teeth and could walk and talk, he was bundled off to the Learning Center.

It wasn’t a bad life, being the clone of a clone of a clone. For everything he thought and did, there was a precedence. It gave him a sense of peace to know that he was a stereotypical representative of his genotype. One amongst thousands.

Until the Graduation Exams when he was 20. Until his world was ended with the declaration that he was an Aberration, and Unclean.

He was not the perfect copy he’d always known himself to be. He was an anomaly.

Gellar was taken from the Learning Center in the back of a van. His wrists were shackled together and he was treated like a prisoner, an inevitable threat.

He could see the disgust and disquiet in the faces that looked like his own. (His type is used in the police and military.) Every single one of them was forced to wonder what they would have done if they were him. He was the possibility of failure that any one of them could have been.

He was their worst fear brought to life.

Aberration. Discord. Failure.

/EXCERPT

Allies & Enemies at Amazon
0 comments on "EXCERPT: some sci-fi thing"

Seiver hit the ground hard. Thankfully it was kneepads first, though it still felt as though his bones were coming apart. He immediately muscles to his feet with a mental note to watch what he was doing.

He wasn’t getting shot.

Amongst the maelstrom of returning fire, Seiver focused on his job. The reason he was paid the big bucks.

He crouched in the center of the room and began assembling the Anum Porta. His hands were steady as he slid the frame parts together. He’d practiced until he could almost match the base record.

Sweat was gathering around his neck. He could feel his bandanna getting soggy.

He willed the sweat not to form on his forehead. But he was only human. Heavy droplets gathered across his forehead and trickled like tears down to his jawline.

In his peripheral he recognized that his protection squad had dwindled from 6 to 4. It was the kind of realization that usually came to him when he was on downtime. The fact that his platoon-mates were dying for him.

He shook off the flicker of shock. He didn’t have time right now.

Part A into Part B, he thought. The portal was nearly complete. Then he could grab up his gun and guard it.

Something slammed into his back and he shouldered it aside without pausing in his work. It was the body of Private Hoskins. Seiver’s brain helpfully identified the nametag as the face was gone. A sound escaped his throat before he swallowed it back.

Not now.

Now as for bolting the last pieces in place and snapping the ring into the stand.

There was a sound like angel’s singing. A rush of melodic harmony as the circuit was completed and the miniature-Gate connected with the Intergalactic Ansible Network.

The Gate glowed red briefly and Seiver quickly got behind it.

A ringing tone was held a second longer than any other, then there was a loud GONG! Sound. And the Gate snapped open. A flare of blinding light swiftly obscured by Gatepods.

The capsules struck like bullets, smashing through walls and bodies. When they stopped, the lids burst open to release the marines inside.

Uramichi Oniisan 01 at Amazon
0 comments on "PARODY: Agent Smith and family give Wiggens the wiggins"

They know he has the alien living with him. They’ve seen the creature interacting with the Smith family on camera. Disgusting unkillable monster, that’s what it was.

It had Smith and his whole family in thrall. But as long as it was with them, it remained under State surveillance; State control.

And even under the effects of the creature’s pheromones or space pollen or whatever the fuck it was putting out, Smith was still a good agent. He was keeping it controlled.

All his handlers had to do was clean up the occasional body. Easy peasy.

* * *

It was amazing, watching the changes in the once stolid Agent Smith. He was becoming someone else. Someone looser and wilder, the kind of man that had forgotten consequences even existed.

As a result, he’d spent some time in prison. Short terms that reminded him who he belonged to.

He was the property of the State.

As was his family. He had signed them into service with his very presence.
He’d allowed his children to be implanted with sleeper personalities. They were Human Dolls, technology that gave Wiggens the creeps.

A few wrong words spoken in the wrong order could turn them into unstoppable killing machines, each with their own unique programming and targeting.

The boy was a clone. The original was currently laid up in a coma. He’d been caught in an explosion and hadn’t been able to shake it off. The doctors had medically induced him, and he’d never woken up.

In the meanwhile, his clone had taken his place. No one could know the “Steve” unit was damaged. There could be no suspicions focused on the Smith family.

The wife was so mind-fried that she didn’t notice half the stuff going on around her. But when she was focused, she could cut through near any situation with an amoral practicality that was chilling.

She could clean up a scene with terrifying efficiency. When she acts, Wiggens can sit back with the calm certainty that things will get done and he’ll have another op successfully completed.

Whenever the daughter acted as the foil, Smith would react. And he had no qualms about manipulating his “small wonder.”

She’d gone from precious baby to lab rat with startling swiftness. She’d been Smith’s little buddy for years until she realized how horrible he was.

Wiggens had never seen a personality turn around happen so swiftly in his life. From pampered princess to full on social revolutionary.

Her primary personality wasn’t the stablest. Which resulted in situations of brutal violence (a love interest didn’t return her favor? Ultra violence!) or overblown acts of social justice that did more harm than good.

The young woman was a ticking time bomb.

And when she was Activated, she was dangerously hot. She was like Echo from “Dollhouse.” Just ridiculously attractive and competent, willing and able to make anything happen.

She had deeply embedded motivations. A lot of work had gone into her persona.

It was above his pay grade, but Wiggens didn’t doubt that she was a highly skilled asset.

She’d gotten ninja training as a child. She’d been possessed by the Lady Shiva and spent a summer being chased by Interpol. She’d been paralyzed and rebuilt, her body more bionic than living tissue.

So when he looked at someone like her, there was no way he could believe she was fully retired. She was too valuable to completely be shit down.

He knew but didn’t *know* that she was an active agent like her father.

Smith.

The man was a human wrecking ball.

Small Gods at Amazon
0 comments on "Royal Cousins at War"

I caught the end of this on PBS. It’s nice to be able to watch it from the beginning.

DESCRIPTION: “Episode 1: A House Divided
Examines what impact the relationships between cousins Nicholas II of Russia, Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany and George V of the United Kingdom had on the outbreak of the First World War. This episode focuses on the story of the emerging divisions and rivalries between the inter-related royal houses of Europe during the 19th century.”


Royal Cousins At War – Part 1 by limukohou