short fic

0 comments on "12 Days of Xmas: A Single Glance"

A Single Glance

Darkstar in a Santa hat.

Darkstar in a Santa hat.

Chloe leaned closer toward the fence, her glossy eyes focused on the supervillain. He was so beautiful that she couldn’t even consider looking away.

He was a force of nature, unleashing violence upon those that had aroused his anger. One brush of his hand against someone resulted in pulverized flesh and a splash of grim red, all that was left of what had once been a human being.

He was unstoppable and unbothered.

He was beautiful. And terrible. And she had no desire to look away from him.

She’d never been in his presence before. Had only seen him on TV or the Internet, his face a Gaussian blur.

It was only chance she was here today. Her bad luck turned to opportunity. A chance to see him in person.

To feel the breathtaking pressure of his presence. It made her clamp her legs together, her skin prickling.

She’d been walking home, focused on keeping her booted feet from slipping on the icy sidewalk, when there had been a loud “BOOM!” to her left.

Blinking through snowflakes that wanted to cling to her eyelashes, she was caught by the sight of DARKSTAR! confronting what looked like a group of neo-Nazis terrorizing a handful of people.

Darkstar had been standing protectively over a bruised and bloody teenager who was lying on the ground, feathery bleach blond hair scattered around their face. The supervillain’s hands were loosely fisted at his sides, but he hadn’t looked angry until one of the neo-Nazis had said something Chloe couldn’t hear.

And then…

She’d seen plenty of superbattles on the news and from the shaky cam clips that regularly popped up on the Internet. But she’d never seen–felt–anything like this.

Darkstar’s movements were so easy that the resultant violence should have been shocking. She should have been horrified by what she was seeing. But instead all she felt was fascination.

He was so beautiful. The image of him was seared across her mind. She couldn’t have looked away if she wanted to, and she didn’t want to.

He was wearing dark wash jeans and a green winter jacket. The red and white Santa hat on his head was undeniably cute. Not a single drop of blood or viscera dared to touch him as he slapped a man on the shoulder, instantly liquifying flesh and bone.

She didn’t dare to blink, afraid of missing anything. He didn’t seem to be moving fast, but everything happened so fast that she was still holding her breath when it was over.

He stood there, not seeming to notice the stares of the people he’d saved. He was distant and glorious, seemingly outside of the world around him.

He didn’t say anything to the people he’d saved. He turned his head and looked around, a casual glance that caught Chloe where she stood before passing by without a pause.

But she felt like she’d been put on pause. His eyes had been so blue. Searing into her. Imprinting on her soul so deep that she would never be able to get him out.

Even after he left, she still stood there for a long time. Unmoving. Barely breathing. Dazzled by him.

Sighing, Darkstar stepped away from the mess he’d made and wondered if maybe he’d overreacted a little.

Glancing around, he could feel the pressure of dozens of eyes focused on him. If he’d been someone else, he would have felt a prickle of unease. Because he was himself, he had the idle thought wondering if he was going to have to unleash more violence on someone.

But the people staring at him as though dazzled were normal people. There wasn’t a hint of hostility coming from any of them. And quite a bit of worship coming from more than a few.

His eye was caught by a young woman standing behind the chainlink fence surrounding the field. Her mouth was open in a little “o” and she was staring right at him with the look of someone that had been thoroughly Charmed.

Feeling a bit bad, he hurriedly looked away from her, then leapt into the air and flew away. Not knowing that that woman, five years from now, would be one of the most fervent Darksters in the country. The legendary figure known as The Iron Gorilla.

=END=

A/N: As has been mentioned previously, those with powerful metabilities can cause those with potential to Manifest metabilities of their own. In H&V, living with Vereint and Warrick results in Melissa Kim having stronger metabilities than Melissa Song Kim from the Kanonverse.

Darkstar, by his mere presence, is a spark that lights a fire in other people wherever he goes.

Uramichi Oniisan 01 at Amazon
1 comment on "SHORT FIC: Apricot Sunrise"

For Kevin

Up all night. Exhausted. Bone tired. Weariness dragging down.

Whoever said crime doesn’t sleep wasn’t lying. It had been nonstop action all night. There was a scent of soot and body odor clinging to her skin.

Elisa looked at her phone to check the time. Grimaced at the crack running across the screen. Meta-grade materials her left foot. She’d slammed the thing into one recalcitrant face and now look at it: crack city.

The thought of having to get a new phone made her want to have a headache. Even with the cloud, there was still a lot of personal stuff she’d have to transfer over. And there was always the nagging sense of something being forgotten, left behind, whenever she got a new phone or device and had to abandon the old.

Nostalgia was almost a suffering friend on her part, rather than the thoughtful softness that other people got to enjoy.

She shoved the phone back in her utility belt and finished her slog to Canaverra Bridge. It was the perfect spot to watch the sunrise, the rippling blue water and the clean scent of ocean a cleansing backdrop.

Being a superhero wasn’t all cheery media smiles and punching villains in the face. It was tiring work, especially for a second-rate hero like her.

She didn’t have any illusions about her place in the world. She wasn’t a frontline hero. Just one of the grunts that cleaned up ground level criminals. And that was fine with her.

Superheroing was a job. One that paid her bills and let her live the life she wanted.

It hadn’t been her dream. It was a paycheck she worked hard for and earned with blood, sweat, and tears. Mostly not her own. She had a powerful right hook and wasn’t afraid to use it.

Her lips curved up when she realized she’d made it on time. Barely.

Ghostly wavering light at first rising up over the mountains. Then the spill of golden light as the sky brightened beneath the clouds. Then the first piercing rays of sunlight.

The sun rose, beautiful in the early morning chill. And Elisa watched it happen.

Beautiful.

=END=

Fortress in the Eye of Time at Amazon
1 comment on "Prompt 26: After being seduced by a demon, an empath ate a baby"

23. After being seduced by a demon, an empath ate a baby.

It was a strange time. That wasn’t an excuse. It just was what it was.

A strange time.

He’d picked up the demon at an estate sale. The candlesticks had immediately appealed to him. The sight made him think of the little hallway alcove that had been built into the house for some reason. That empty space called out to him, demanding to be filled.

He’d bought the candlesticks and brought them home. They’d fit in the alcove perfectly. Added class to the place.

Everything was great for a time. Work was going well. His house was finally feeling like a home. He was healthy and felt fitter than ever before in his life.

Of course it couldn’t last.

The dreams came first, then the sleepwalking started. The sleep emissions. The zoning out. The realization that something was really wrong.

By then it had likely already been too late.

The demon got in his head and built a home to stay. And in that time when he was lost, they’d done terrible things together.

The demon had twined itself throughout him until he didn’t know where it began and he ended.

Because he’d been so wrapped up in the feeling of things that he’d lost touch with the reality of things.

None of it had seemed real, even as it happened, and it was only afterward with the nightmares and prison cells that he’d come to realize what he’d done.

Because while they’d done it together, the demon was a demon and realized no wrong. It took a human soul to suffer for human sins.

And he’d committed a grave sin for letting it happen. For enjoying it in the moment, because whatever the strength of the demon there were some things he never should have allowed.

The sex. The scarification. The gorging themselves on any food they could reach.

It could all be forgiven.

The eating of a human baby?

Unforgivable.

x_x x_x x_x

Being known as "the baby eater" in prison wasn’t exactly the highest point of his prison sentence, but it wasn’t the worst either.

A spiritual trace had highlighted the signs of demonic possession in his aura. He was still sentenced to prison, but it was a lesser term than he would have gotten without the evidence of a demonic presence.

He took whatever blessings he could find. So that reduction of what otherwise would’ve been a life sentence was gratefully accepted.

He didn’t really think it was fair, considering what he’d done, but he raised no objection to being released just two years after he was sentenced.

A small apartment. A from-home job. And six months later he could almost pretend that his life wasn’t a completely ruined thing.

Almost.

/END

Panoply at Amazon
0 comments on "12 Days of Xmas: Nine Cuts Deep"

NINE CUTS DEEP

There was no warning. One minute he was curled up in his bed, face nestled against a plump pillow, and the next he was being dragged out of the house in his sleeping clothes.

“What is happening? What are you doing? Who are you?!” he shouted, trying to struggle but his arms were held too tight.

He was thrown on the ground and knelt up to see that his attackers were wearing the uniforms of the Imperial Guard. Their commander stood before him, strong legs braced and expression firmly unfriendly.

The commander unrolled a scroll and held it face out so he could see the words in vermilion ink. “Jan Douther, by order of the Emperor you are to be exiled for life to the island of Reuine.”

“Why?” Jan asked, horrified.

He could hear his house being ransacked behind him. Anything of wealth was thrown onto a prepared wagon. As an exile, a proclaimed criminal, he would only be allowed a single set of rough spun clothes and everything else would be claimed by the courts.

“Donthor Auerleon, once Duke of Kourton, has been sentenced to be executed for the crime of treason. The great Emperor has proclaimed that his family be dealt with nine cuts deep.”

Jan wanted to wail in horror but no sound could escape.

Nine cuts deep!

Whatever Donthor had done hadn’t just seen himself and his immediate family dead, but had doomed his family down to nine generations.

As a second cousin, Jan would be made to suffer along with their grandparents and great-grandparents and uncles and aunts and all of their families. Whatever Donthor had done had killed his own wife and children and sentenced everyone else in the family to permanent exile.

They would not be allowed to own property. Those that didn’t already have a spouse wouldn’t be allowed to marry. Any children they had would automatically be labeled as criminals. They would have to do whatever labor the government ordered. And they would not be allowed to leave their place of exile.

Jan had never been fond of Cousin Donthor, but now he discovered that he hated him.

That smug scumbag that would come to holiday events in expensive clothes layered with jewelry. Who would boast of his riches and his properties and his beautiful concubines and the best schools that his children attended. Who would flaunt his ducal title while looking down on the rest of them.

Donthor had ruined their entire family. And for what?

As Jan was stripped naked in the street and was forced into the rough spun clothes, he hated and hated.

He didn’t cry out when the Imperial Guards transferred him to the care of the prisoner transporters and he was beaten. He hadn’t done anything to fight them, but they wanted him weak. Pliable. Aware that he was no longer a person and could barely be considered human.

His status was lower than the lowest of slaves. Those whose masters could kill them for a list of offenses but who still had to follow set laws of treatment.

As a criminal his life was worthless. He could be beaten, robbed, abused, and kept captive, and if he dared to go to the Law Bureau for justice, he would first be given thirty strikes with a board before he would be allowed to speak.

The law was not on his side, and he knew it. And so he refused to cry, simply accepting that everything that had once been was no longer. Including the luxury of weakness.

Later, when he was reunited with his elderly family members and a few cousins on the ferry boat to Reuine Island–the rest of the family having been separated to other points of exile–he held them close and promised that he would take care of them. They were all that he had left in his life.

Donthor’s foolishness had taken everything else from him. Even the hope of a happy future.

=END=