Excerpt

“She always kept herself ready for the end of the world.

“That’s what I remember of my mom.

“She was always prepared.

“Even as we lived the normal suburban lifestyle; quietly she taught me all of the skills I was using in the resistance. Such as camping and lying and getting the most out of people. She taught me how to survive.”

MEMORY: Sitting on a stool in the corner of the kitchen. Watching mother bake and chat with the visiting friends filling the living room. Not a one of them could guess that secretly she didn’t want them in her home.

She was a brilliant liar. She taught him so much. / :MEMORY

Mother could be quite vivacious. She brought energy and positivity to every situation. She had a cold pragmatism to her, but it was wrapped in a layer of silly laughter and a lighthearted intelligence. She charmed everyone that met her, personality shifting like a chameleon.

He loved that only family ever got to see the real her. It taught him to wear different faces in public and at home.

She taught him that family was the most important thing, but that there could also be extended family–*Family* as it were–people to count on and be counted by.

When the government collapsed, all he saw was his family. He kept the people he loved alive, and they fought just as hard to protect him.

And then there were more people and they were a Family.

And other Families appeared and they were Clans.

And there were scuffles and Wars and the Clans, the Companies, the *Nations*–all of them had found their places in the world.

And there was peace for fifty years.

And then the Others came, and even after they were defeated and humanity slipped the bonds of slavery, society still fell into despair and ruin.

There were more baseline humans than ever before and the nanotech factories had long gone silent. All of the technicians were dead.

And he continued to care for his Family, the people that he had gathered together during the rebellion and made his own. They looked to him for guidance, and he made vows to do his best for them.

Which made the discovery of the time machine an intriguing prospect, one that he was unable to turn away from.

Being able to somehow change things and shorten his peoples’ hardships, how could he say no?

He weighed what he knew of the cost and made the choice.

Z
Z
Z

ASIDE: She lived with a steady sense of urgency. There was something terrible coming in the future. She’d lived long enough to FEEL when the family luck was about to change.

She turned a bunch of toolboxes into survival kits and storage for extra things. Band-Aids at first, then small screw driver sets, rubber mallets [ILLUSTRATION: great for tanning hides and hammering in nails], and first aid kits.

The first survival boxes she made were simple things. Then she began adding changes of clothes and The Friendly Swedes’ magnesium emergency fire starters to the boxes and they evolved into something a bit more complete, with a few days rations, a simple survival pamphlet, and a pencil box of bare necessity supplies in every one.

She didn’t know what was coming, but she wanted to be prepared.

Because she only had to glance into Sean’s eyes to see that he would fight. Whatever the future brought, he would not be content with just surviving. And whatever trouble found him, he would bring it home to her.

A life on the run had no appeal, but she’d done it before. She could teach him all the ways to be small and quiet, unnoticed in crowds of people. She could teach him to blend into the background and wait for chance and opportunity.

But until he became desperate, she despaired of him ever learning subtlety. He was a strutting peacock and she worried for him.

And quietly she prepared. Prepping for her son’s future.

The Way of the Househusband 01 at Amazon

NOTE: There’s a reason I’ve been obsessing over “Tuesday Night.” It’s because of these guys.

*

Being pinned down by a superpowered madman and his cohort of belligerent henchmen had to be on Seth’s Top Ten list of unwanted scenarios to face. The guy was practically a Bond villain with all of the elaborate traps and mechanical gizmos ready to go off at a single moment’s notice. There was even an evil villain lair paid for with drug money and built on the tears of enslaved orphans.

“Does anyone else think this guy might actually have a pool of sharks with lasers on their heads? Or maybe a murder table mounted with like a rotating sawblade or something?” Even knowing it was a better idea to keep quiet, talking relieved some of Seth’s nerves.

“Maybe there’s sawblades with sharks mounted on them,” Teen Steel joked.

“Heh. ‘Do you expect me to talk?’ ‘No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die,'” Jackblade quoted.

“If you boys are done thinking you’re funny,” Sonic Pulse said, “we need to get out of here.”

The moment of levity was gone and they got back to the business of being nervous and trapped. They were holed up in the east wing of the dramatically named Citadel of Terror.

They were one step ahead of El Muerto’s minions and it was only a matter of time before they were forced into a confrontation with the genocidal maniac.

With the ability to kill anything with the sound of his voice, El Muerto was a supervillain that had carved out a position as the executioner-for-hire of the ruthless dictator and drug kingpin Javier LaCroix.

Mostly working out of France and Central Europe, it had alarmed many when the Citadel of Terror, LaCroix’ flying fortress, had made the trip and subsequent landing in South America. There had already been rumors of the violent dictator expanding his operations to the Americas, but it wasn’t until he was on their doorstep that the Central Metahuman Policing Force decided to step in and handle him.

LaCroix and his operation got declared a problem to be handled and here the Demis here. The plan being that they get in fast enough that LaCroix didn’t have a chance to dig in and fortify his location.

They’d received deployment orders before there was even a working plan to handle LaCroix. Which meant they’d already been behind enemy lines before CMPF command realized quite how dangerous the situation was. El Muerto was not out of the country as intelligence had suggested. He was somewhere in the building.

The Demis had received word that backup was on the way and they needed to stay out of view until help arrived. Once there were enough of them, working together the two teams would take out LaCroix, El Muerto, and anyone else that got in their way.

Seth was looking forward to kicking some ass. One look at the basement prison cells had been enough to ignite a fierce hatred in his heart. He’d tallied the number of men, women, and children that were locked up waiting to be used for slave labor and he’d wanted to punch faces. He’d be happy to see LaCroix’ whole operation brought to a messy end.

He anticipated the arrival of backup, because once they showed up it would be time to take down all the bad guys and free the slaves. And hopefully they’d all make it home without someone being sung to death by El Muerto.

Jackblade’s watch made a soft bleep-ing sound. “Come on. Time to change position again.”

They’d been moving their way slowly but surely through the fortress, staying measured amounts of time in each location. If they’d stayed constantly on the move there was a good chance of being spotted, but if they parked themselves for too long in one location there was a better chance that someone would stumble across them. Seth really wasn’t looking to terrify or kill a maid, and if they got rid of too many people it was bound to be noticed. It was better that they not settle anywhere for too long.

Seth nudged Teen Steel’s shoulder. “Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?”

Teen Steel grinned and opened his mouth to say something–probably involving the word “princess”–but Sonic Pulse grabbed his arm and pulled him away. “Stop fooling around.”

Seth rolled his eyes and let himself fall to the back of the group as they left the bland room they’d been hiding in and crept down the hall.

There was the sense that they would be caught at any moment. Some maid or toddling child would come around a corner at exactly the wrong moment and they’d all be plunged into a fight to the death battle with machine gun toting criminals. It made Seth nervous.

But nothing happened. They followed the winding corridors until they came to another unmarked door and another unremarkable room they could hole up in.

Seth didn’t question the vague sense of disappointment. He just pushed it away and focused on searching the room for anything useful (or incriminating).

The room was a blandly painted beige square with dark wood floors. Instead of a closet, there was a wooden wardrobe standing tall against one wall, and a narrow three-drawer dresser next to it. There was a twin bed with two pillows and a dark blue quilted comforter spread across the top. There was no window, no TV, and no adjoining bathroom. It was a depressingly personality-free cell of a room.

Seth opened the wardrobe and found men’s clothing hanging from the —-pole/rack/bar—- and a suitcase on the bottom.

“It looks like this room is occupied,” he said. “I don’t think we’re going to want to stay here too long in case whoever comes back. Things might get a bit awkward.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jackblade said. He opened the top drawer of the dresser curiously before closing it. “Sock and underwear. I’m not worried.”

“So you say,” Seth said, “but things always look a bit different when you’re facing an enraged drug kingpin and his machine gun toting army. I’m not looking to get shot.”

“Considering you’re the only one here that’s impervious to bullets, I think you should suck it up,” Saint Kloud said.

Seth clutched his chest. “Wounded. Emotionally battered by my own teammates, my fears belittled as not being worthwhile. I can feel the waterworks wanting to start, but I will hold them back with all of my strength.”

He caught Sonic Pulse’s mutter, “God, could he be more annoying?” She’d found a thin paperback book and was puzzling through the French writing.

Seth fought back the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her. For some reason, they’d been rubbing each other the wrong way recently. It hadn’t quite reached the point where he would put in for a transfer, but he’d thought about it.

It was hard to trust his life and the success of the team’s missions to someone that was so obviously not dealing with her own problems. Maybe she’d married Teen Steel too young. Maybe it was the lack of kids after years of trying. Whatever it was, Seth didn’t appreciate the thinly veiled resentment with which Sonic Pulse treated him. It wasn’t like he was trying to steal Teen Steel away from her or anything.

He turned away from her and reached for the suitcase. If they were going to be here for the next little while, he figured it was time to do a bit of snooping.

The suitcase was a deep red color with brown accents. There was a combination lock, but the owner had left it open. It was practically an invitation for Seth to unzip the lid and flop it open.

“Oh shit,” he said. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

“What? Why?” Jackblade peered over his shoulder.

“Because we’re in the lair of the beast,” Seth said. “This is El Muerto’s room.”

/EXCERPT

Drama!!!

Heroes & Villains at Amazon

NOTE: this is pretty raw. If you want to point out things I need to edit, that’s fine. This whole story needs a thorough going over before it gets submitted anywhere. (What a hot sexy mess.)

*

There was the acrid stink of smoke filling the air, along with the screams and desperate cries of the hurt and dying. The street in front of Caspian Dukes was a wreckage of twisted metal where dozens of vehicles had collided.

He felt helpless. Tragedy had already happened and he didn’t know how they could clear away this mess. His mouth tasted sour with failure.

One hour ago he was eating a food truck taco and contemplating a nap. Now he was looking at a triage situation he didn’t feel up to handling.

The lifestyle was wearing him down. Statistically speaking, most superheroes retired out of the field by their tenth year of active duty. He’d been doing this job for close to thirty.

He didn’t think that he was quite ready to retire, but he might cut back on some duty shifts. He wouldn’t do anyone any good if he let himself burn out.

Maybe it’s time for a nice vacation, he thought. Surf, sand, and a chance to get my gills wet.

Just the thought of immersing himself in the ocean soothed some of the tension out of his shoulders. Enough that he was able to focus on the task at hand.

As the old timers had said, the ocean always called their people home in the end.

“All right, boys and girls, the situation has changed,” Caspian called out. “It’s time to focus on cleaning up the mess rather than making it. I want each of you to pair up with an Emergency Services team. It’s search and rescue time. Follow the orders of the ES team leader and be careful, safe, and smart. Understood?”

The Junior League members answered in unison, “Yes, sir!” There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation as they rushed forward to rescue the wounded and comfort the dying. They were strong as a unit, even the ones that had never worked together.

Smart, loyal, and quick to follow the orders of their superiors–they were a good bunch of kids and Caspian felt proud watching them swarm the scene. Maybe he was getting old, but the new League members looked younger to him every year. He couldn’t remember a time when he was ever so young and eager to please. There was a part of him that secretly wanted to wrap them up in bubble wrap and deliver them back to their parents safe and sound, which was ridiculous because they were competent professionals that wouldn’t have appreciated his babying.

He shook his head and stalked forward to do his own part. People needed his help.

Trusting that the Juniors would know to give him a yell if they needed him, he helped a couple of Emergency Service officers by ripping the passenger side door off of a car that had been crumpled like a tin can in the fist of a giant. A single peek through the window showed that the driver–a young woman with blood darkened hair shrouding her face–was dead, but the man next to her was weakly struggling with his seatbelt, his dazed eyes unable to focus. He seemed frantic to reach the toddler screaming in the backseat.

“Hold on, buddy,” Caspian said. “Don’t try to move.”

He stepped out of the way of the rescue workers and their backboard, wishing that the car had been a four-door so he could get to the kid. She was unharmed, though the shock of the crash had turned to terror of the unknown. Interspersed with her shrieks were what sounded like the words “Mama!” and “Dada!” and he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her as only one of them was ever going to answer.

Once the father was out of the way and being loaded onto a gurney, Caspian was quick to pull the toddler out of her car seat, turning her so she didn’t get a good look at her mother’s body. “Sh, sh, it’s all right,” he murmured, patting her back and giving her a quick once over.

Her small hands fisted against the front of his uniform and her shrieks trailed into hiccuping cries. Her head moved back and forth, trying to see where “Dada!” had gone, but Caspian kept her turned away from where the paramedics worked. There was quite a bit of blood and he didn’t want to traumatize her more than she already was.

Looking around, he knew she was going to have plenty of stuff to talk about with her future therapist. She’d lost her mother, and her father was probably going to be spending some time in the hospital.

“Here, I’ll take her.” Caspian turned to look at the man that had spoken. He was wearing an Emergency Service uniform along with a Megacity Mavens baseball cap. “You’ve got other stuff to handle.”

“Thanks,” Caspian said. He carefully passed the toddler over, reining in his superhuman strength. He’d feel terrible if he accidentally hurt her, especially after everything else she’d experienced.

Stepping away from the totaled car, he looked around to see where he was most immediately needed. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to what he was seeing, like some horrible optical illusion coming into focus.

The street was a scene of damage and destruction. The epicenter was three low buildings close together. From the way the awning had been blown across the street from the middle building–with its plaster pillars shattered and broken mirrors everywhere–Caspian thought that it had been the main site of the disaster.

There was a ten-year-old boy seated on the curb, a vacant expression on his dirty face. He was cradling something in his hands and his dark brown hair was nearly white on top from plaster dust. When he glanced up at Caspian’s approach, his eyes were a startling shade of blue. It was such a striking sight that Caspian hitched his step.

“Hey, kid.” Caspian didn’t bother faking a smile. The situation was too raw to be made light of yet. “Do you know what happened here?”

The boy looked up at him. His hands shifted and Caspian briefly glimpsed the watch that he held. “It was Becky. She said that she wasn’t feeling good. Then all this happened.”

“I see. And who is Becky?” Caspian asked. The first responders would have gathered the information on their arrival, but it didn’t hurt to get a first hand account when he could.

“She’s a girl in my class.” The boy rubbed the back of his hand under his nose. “She’s dead now. Can I call my dad? I want to go home.”

“It will be a little while,” Caspian said. “You’re going to have to be patient.”

The boy hunched his shoulders with a sigh.

/EXCERPT

– So yeah, “All That Remains” starts off with Caspian being called out to the scene of an out-of-control Manifestation. The girl’s sudden powers and Nor-gene mutation result in tragedy. But it also results in Caspian meeting a powerful young boy.

Bum-bum-BAH!

All Systems Red at Amazon

Title: Ruined Lilacs and Broken Dreams
Author: Harper Kingsley
Character: Lindsey
Fill for the Bed Amongst the Leaves prompt.

EXCERPT-

Lindsey wanted to enjoy her life. She wanted to be happy and proud of herself. She didn’t want to be this giant loser, where everything she tried failed and every golden opportunity spoiled in her hands.

She wanted to be one of the shiny happy people. She was tired of wallowing in the muck of poverty.

It hurt to realize that her every problem could be solved with the addition of copious amounts of money. Her debts could be paid, the family wardrobe could improve, the quality of groceries that she bought could help fix any health issues. With some money in her hands, she could change the fate of her entire family and together they could prosper.

But as it was, nothing she did worked.

Her artistic abilities were sadly lacking. Her typing ability didn’t bring in much cash. And her profile on the shady solicitation site had received no offers.

It terrified her to think that it was only a matter of time before she lost the Kid. Someone would realize how poor they were and how much trouble she was in, and they’d take her little boy away.

“You’re squeezing me too tight, Momma.”

“Sorry, baby.” She pressed a kiss against the top of his sleepy head.

They were lying on the couch with an afghan tucked around them. The air was starting to chill, but she didn’t want to add another precious piece of wood to the fire. Monster House was almost over and they’d be going to bed soon enough.

Lindsey held her boy in her arms and stared unblinkingly at the television screen. The flickering motions and colors blended together as she tried to focus the rushing panic of her thoughts.

They were out of money for the month. All the bills were paid, but the food was thin in the fridge and on the shelves. There was a good chance that they’d be enjoying flour soup a couple times before she’d again be able to afford groceries.

/EXCERPT

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