#the after months and months of agony i built my desk and got the computer out

[coffeeworldsasaki]

I'm understanding almost everything in this code... it's pretty advanced and I'm understanding it 😭

[petri808]

I3+Bakudeku mutual pining idiots Actor AU @miss-lorali request. I’m an idiot cause my idea is gonna be waaaay longer then I was aiming for lol.

“Okay,” the hiring director motioned for the pair to move closer. “Mr. Midoriya, remember you’re a scientist and Bakugou’s character is here to take you to safety. But you don’t understand why just yet. So, if you are ready, please begin the reading.”

Katsuki gesturing wildly, “pack it up quick nerd, we gotta get out of here before DAV gets here!”

Izuku pretending to complete a file download. He slammed his fist on the imaginary desk. “I can’t make the computer move faster! I don’t even understand what the hell is going on!”

Katsuki, “you’re science experiments aren’t important, we—”

Izuku straightened out, walked over and placed a finger on the larger man’s chest, running it slowly down from his collarbone to his pecs, while lowering his tone and narrowing his eyes. “Oh,” his brow raised, “and what would a grunt like you know about science?”

Katsuki slapped his hand away in annoyance, though a light flush arose on his tinged cheeks. “F-Fuck off!” He gritted back. “Just hurry the fuck up!”

“Yeah, yeah...” Izuku went back to the imaginary desk and pretended to type something. “30 seconds, fast enough for you? Probably like your bedroom speed,” he mumbled the last portion.

“What?!”

“And cut!” The hiring director yelled. “That was perfect!! Midoriya you’re hired!”

“Oh hell no!” Katsuki screamed at the director. “He added lines at the end! How is that okay?!”

“Because,” the woman countered. “It was still perfectly in character, and you know very well that the Director allows actors to ad lib if it fits the scene.”

Katsuki crossed his arms, “I refuse to work with him.”

“You’ve already signed the contract,” her brow perked up, “and may I remind you of the penalty if you quit now?”

“Find someone else!”

“No. The chemistry between you two came through perfectly on camera. It’s done. He’s it. End of discussion.” The woman then ignored the raging blonde and turned to Izuku. “I’ll let your agent know so we can sign the contracts, and I’ll have the full script sent to their office by end of day along with the filming schedule. You did a great job today holding your own and not getting lost next to Bakugou. I’m glad to have you on board with this project.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Ashido. I was quite excited when I heard about the project and look forward to being part of the team.”

“Kiss ass,” Katsuki sneered. “You’re in. No need for simpering.”

But Izuku played it cool. He wasn’t about to play into the leads temper tantrum. “You might be top as an action star, but I have my own credit successes. So, stop treating me like the hired help, or I’ll make you scream in another way.”

Katsuki’s eyes flashed wide and mouth hung agape. It’s been a long time since anyone’s stood up to him and this smaller, green-haired, freckle-faced mouse just grew a set of balls to rival his own. “H-how dare you?!”

“I dare,” Izuku grinned brightly. “See ya later Kacchan!” He waved as he walked away.

Ms. Ashido giggled. “Oooo, this is gonna be so good! I must say I’d chalked him up as iffy, but he really proved me wrong.”

“Little shit is already giving me a nickname? Who the fuck does he think he is?!”

“Your new co-star.” She patted his chest twice and walked away with a smirk.

“Fuck!” What did he just get himself into?!

That afternoon, Katsuki left the studio in a total huff. And to think, he’d gone in excited to be working with Izuku Midoriya. Their movie credits ran in different circles, but he knew exactly who the man was. Izuku was from all he’d seen a great actor, and the perfect person to play his opposite. The guy looked like a handsome office worker, lean but built well, smaller then himself, and would fit snuggly against his chest in a romantic scene. In fact, it was after one of Izuku’s very first movies as a lead that a crush bloomed for the man. He had expected a quieter guy, but oh, boy! Had he been blindsided! And if that didn’t just turn him on even more!

Hence the dilemma he now found himself in. He’d have to act side by side with a man he was extremely attracted to, but only pretended to be. Katsuki was certain that Izuku’s attitude during the read was the same as his— pretending. Because that’s how you sell a movie. If the audience buys into what you’re selling, box office sales will go up. It’s not supposed to be real emotions. Heaven help him this just might kill him!

At home, he read through the script again noting the section that would be his hardest to overcome. The love scenes. No full nudity, not even close, but there is a section near the end where in a moment of pent up emotions, and the exhilarating rush of emotions, they end up lip-locked. Granted, the more realistic it is, the better, but Katsuki felt the nerves kicking in just thinking about it. He could only pray that in the real moment, and energies are heightened, he simply runs on instinct and acting prowess.

‘Come on, dumbass! It’s not your first kiss scene!’ Katsuki growled to himself in the safety of his own home. “Stupid!” He was making himself all flustered like some virginal teenager about to kiss his first crush! Fuck that! He wasn’t about to show Izuku any weakness! The last thing he wanted was for the man to figure out he was really just an overgrown pining fool behind a mask of anger. He didn’t even know which way the man swung because Izuku kept his life private, very private. A miracle in their world of paparazzi. It meant two things, Izuku really was good at hiding, or simply wasn’t seeing anyone for them to catch. Either way, Katsuki couldn’t figure out what he desperately wanted to know. Did he have a chance?

A month later, Katsuki and Izuku found themselves on location in Europe where most of the scenes would be filmed. The premise of the movie is of a top-tier scientist in the field of chemicals played by Izuku, who is to be kidnapped. But because MI6 caught wind of the plan, they sent in one of their agents played by Katsuki to get Izuku to safety. They barely make it out of the lab in time and now they’re on the run, being hunted by a group called the DAV who want Izuku to create chemical weapons for them. Katsuki needed to somehow get Izuku safely from his home in France, back to England where the MI6 brass waited to secret him into permanent hiding.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Izuku screamed and yanked Katsuki to halt. The moment they stop moving, he collapsed onto his knees, clutching his chest trying to catch his breath from all the running. “W-what is going on?!”

“Look,” Katsuki tried to yank the man back to his feet, but Izuku slumped and played a dead weight. “Damn it, we gotta get out of here before someone sees us!”

“No! I-I can’t keep running like this! I’m not exactly athletic! Now, tell me what the hell is going on!”

Katsuki growled and ignored Izuku’s pleas. He grabbed him instead and dead lifted him up, hoisting the man onto his shoulder in a fireman carry. Izuku bucked, but Katsuki literally slapped his ass to behave. “Just shut up for now,” he snapped and took off running down the alleyway. “I’ll explain everything when I get us somewhere safe!”

“If I’m the victim, shouldn’t you be nicer to me?!” Izuku retorted.

“I’ll be nicer if you stop causing me a headache!”

As soon as they exit the alley, Katsuki quickly surveyed his options. The bad guys blew up his car, so he needed transportation. He saw a man exiting a vehicle and rushed over, pulling a gun on them.

“Gimme the keys,” he aimed at the man’s head, to which they immediately complied. “Now scram!”

Katsuki put Izuku back on his feet. “Get in!”

“Where are we go—”

“Just get in the fucking car!”

Once Izuku is inside the passenger side, Katsuki got into the drivers and hightailed it out of there, heading towards the outskirts of town.

“Trailing car... And cut! Perfect!” The director called out. “Thirty minute break to reset for the next scene.”

“Kacchan, wanna get some lunch with me?” Izuku asked as they stepped out of the car.

“No,” Katsuki replied and quickly walked away, leaving his co-actor standing there with a sad, pouting look on his face.

‘Don’t turn around!’ He screamed at himself. Just co-workers, he reminded. Don’t get too close to that cute... freckled... “Fuck!” Katsuki screamed the moment he slammed his trailer door behind him and fell back against it. ‘Why’d I slap his ass!’ He groaned and ran a hand down his face. It wasn’t in the script and apparently the director didn’t mind it. ‘You did it cause you wanted to...’ his conscience chimed back. “Fuck you.” That’s not true...

A few minutes later there was a knock at his door. “Go away!” Katsuki snapped, he didn’t want to be bothered. Then a second knock, and a shuffling sound. “Go the fuc—” He whipped the door open to find no one standing there. “What the?” That’s when his looked down and saw a wrapped sandwich and a piece of paper tucked under it. Katsuki picked it up and closed door, opening up the sandwich to eat it. He was hungry, just didn’t want to take Izuku up on his offer. As he ate he opened the note:

I just wanna be friends :) that was a taxing scene, so you must be hungry. See you back on set. -I

It had been Izuku.

“Tch.” Katsuki bit down on the sandwich. ‘Didn’t have the balls to stick around though.’ But despite his grumping, he couldn’t help the light blush filtering onto his cheeks and warmth filling his body. Izuku was just too damn nice.

Filming an action movie was a lot more taxing then the consumers might realize. Thankfully, stunt doubles did the hardest scenes for the pair, but close ups and cardio elements were all them, and to see Izuku keeping up with him left Katsuki pleasantly surprised. Too pleasant. Moments in close confines, of him holding or dragging the man around left his libido in agony by end of day only to be relieved by a hand it didn’t want. Almost four months of agony had left Katsuki’s mind a buzz, trapped in a cycle of false realities and wishful thinking.

It was the last day of filming, and the scene Katsuki had dreaded had finally arrived. So much so, that he’d convinced the producer to hold off on filming it till the very end despite it taking place two-thirds of the way through the movie itself. Screw it, they can edit and splice it in. For a lot of actors, the intimately romantic parts were the hardest to accomplish, because conveying such raw emotions and making it believably real for the audience took great finesse.

They were holed up for the night in a small run down inn Katsuki managed to find after crossing the French border into Belgium. They were both exhausted, Izuku’s character more so, unused to such physical demands. DAV always managed to catch up to them within a day or two, so it left them little time to breathe, and Izuku was at his breaking point.

The smaller male pounded on Katsuki’s chest while tears streamed down his face. “I can’t keep doing this! Why can’t they just leave me alone?!”

Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s flailing arms gently to stop him. “I don’t know why.” He pulled the man towards the bed to sit down, taking a place beside him as he did his best to console. “But I promise I’ll keep you safe. We’ll get to safety soon and it will all be over with.”

Izuku sobbed harder, burying his face in Katsuki’s shoulder. His fingers gripped tightly to the man’s torn shirt. “You can’t promise me that,” he mumbled. “I’ve caused you so much trouble, maybe it’s best if I gave myself up to them.”

Katsuki pushed the man back and forced Izuku to look up at him. “Don’t you do that! Don’t you dare! You think I’m gonna just let them take you?!” His voice cracked as he channeled real emotions of the fear of losing this man. “You... I’m not letting them take you away from me Hitomu!”

Izuku looked up when he heard the pain behind Katsuki’s words to find tears pooling and clouded ruby red eyes. He held the man’s gaze for several seconds, staring, lip quivering. “I don’t want to leave you either, Takeo.” Izuku’s fingers slowly uncurl, smoothing out and lowering to Katsuki’s firm abdomen where it came to rest just above the waistline and pressed in firmly. “I feel safe with you.”

Katsuki’s breathing slowed as his eyes widened. Shit! He’s not ready for this scene! He thought he was, oh how he wanted to just rush in and steal Izuku’s lips! But his mind froze as glistening emerald eyes held it hostage. What was his lines? Are there any lines? Fuck! He couldn’t think straight!

“Cut!” The director yelled. “Bakugou, what’s the problem? You hold the gaze for a second then kiss him. Do you need a break?”

This was the first time since making it big that Katsuki’s messed up a scene like this. He took a moment to snap out of his trance, then yelled back. “No! Let’s just get this over with.”

“Alright. Places people, let’s take it from the last line Midoriya. Action!”

Izuku repeated the last line, “I feel safe with you,” adding a deeper grip to the waist band of Katsuki’s pants.

Katsuki’s eyes lower, half-lidded as he reached out and caressed Izuku’s face gently, cupping the man’s cheek before leaning in and landing a solid kiss. His mind was barely holding it together to keep his actions gentle.

Izuku reacted accordingly, once again his fingers gripping to the fabric of Katsuki’s clothes as the kiss was deepened considerably.

Katsuki’s hand trailed up and behind, tangling into his co-actors green curls. He let go of any control and lost himself in their embrace, in the feel of Izuku’s supple lips against his own. In that moment, they were no longer filming a movie scene, but transported into the blonde’s fantasy, of so much more that he’d love to do this man’s body. His eyes rolled back and fluttered as Izuku trailed heated kisses down to the nape of his neck, pressing firm nibbles and light mewling whines.

“Kacchan...” Izuku huskily whispered too low for the microphone to pick up.

But Katsuki heard it loud and clear, and he responded with a rumbling groan that went straight to his groin. Izuku had used his nickname... Not the characters name! His nickname! And damn did it sound sweet to his ears! Katsuki’s too far gone and doesn’t stop the decent, even as the smaller male applied pressure, allowing Izuku to guide them deeper onto the bed. Hands followed curves and groped flesh as they moved under the confines of shirts in the makings of a sex scene. Izuku truly felt wonderful against him, moving in time with his movements like a perfect dance. It was only once on his back, with their bodies semi-entwined, that the director finally yelled cut, and Katsuki’s fantasy came to a screeching halt.

“Brilliant work guys!” The director congratulated his two stars as they made their way off the bed. “I think we can call it a wrap!”

Applause rang out on the set as everyone was high-fiving or shaking hands, patting the two men on the back and adding to the job well done message. Izuku was blushed and beaming, but Katsuki still flustered from the scene, ignored the jovial repartee and beelined it to his trailer for some privacy. It was a miracle no one noticed the slight pitch in his pants, because now he was fucking horny! If the director hadn’t stopped them, who knows how far things would have gone. The sound of Izuku’s voice whispering his name continued to repeat in Katsuki’s mind like a siren, but he couldn’t give into it.

“This was just acting!” Katsuki screamed in the safety of his trailer as he punched the wall as hard as he could. It’s a fantasy! A goddamn fantasy world! And it’s over! “Stop thinking about him!” At that moment, there’s a knock on his trailer door followed by his name being called out.

“Kacchan? What was that loud bang?”

Fuck! It was Izuku again!

“Kacchan?” More determined pounding on the doror. “Kacchan, c-can we talk, please, I need to talk to you.”

“I’m fine, go away!”

“I’m not going away, we need to talk about what just happened!”

Katsuki growled and slammed the door wide open, ignoring the throb of his hand. “No, we don’t! It was just a scene Izuku!” But after shouting his piece-of-mind, he’s taken slightly aback at the teary-eyed man who looked like he was on the verge of crying.

“It wasn’t just a scene for me, Kacchan.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Katsuki questioned, though again his whispered nickname sprang back to the forefront. Had Izuku said it on purpose?!

“Did you feel nothing between us?” Izuku’s lip quivered as he spoke. “Was the passion that came out on set just acting?” His voice cracked. “If you say yes, I-I’ll leave you alone. It’s just— I took this job because... I like you, Kacchan. I’ve liked you for a long time and thought maybe... but— that’s okay, just forget it,” he turned to walk away unwilling to take the rejection face-forward. “Thank you for the opportunity to work with you.”

Katsuki stood in his spot completely stunned by the confession. But the further Izuku moved away from his trailer, he quickly realized he was about to lose the very thing he’d come to desire. He raced after the man and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around, and slammed his lips into the stunned Izuku. It was filled with an even more heightened passion then before, now that there was no audience watching them. He nibbled at the man’s bottom lip, eliciting a groan, while Izuku’s hands grabbed desperately onto his shirt, holding tight.

“Fucking nerd,” Katsuki mumbled with a smile while threading his fingers through Izuku’s hair. “How could I not want you too after you’d riled me up since the day we met.”

Izuku blushed in embarrassment. “S-sorry for coming on so strong. I just got in my head that I needed to look cool and not a pining mess. I really wanted to work with you.”

“Tch, I guess I can’t really talk, because I acted like an asshole, so I didn’t look like a pining idiot.” Katsuki laughed. “Guess we’re both pining idiots.” He kissed Izuku again and lowered his voice to a sultry tone. “Wanna finish what we started?”

Izuku giggled as his hands tugged at the man’s waistband. “Most definitely.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silly Bonus: from a chat with a friend lol

As they start to walk back towards Katsuki’s trailer, Izuku takes hold of the man’s hand. But now that the adrenaline had worn off, Katsuki immediately flinched from the pain. Izuku stopped and lifted it up for inspection, seeing the slight swell of the man’s knuckles and drying blood. “Oh my goodness, Kacchan was that noise from you punching the wall?”

“What? No!” He pulled his hand back and hid it behind his back.

“You’re bleeding, we should get the medics.”

“I’m fine, it’s fine, it’s just ketchup.”

“Ketchup?” Izuku’s brow raised. “Really?”

“Really.”

Izuku:

[tw-anchor]

23. The First Battle

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 2x11; Battlefield

Word Count: 6,291

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence, therapy, semi-dead Jackson, lacrosse championship, Stiles’ birthday

Author’s Note: After this there’s only one episode left of season 2. I hope you enjoy! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profiles Description!

"You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out."

There, that seemed like an appropriate thing to say. It wasn't changing the subject even though Stiles didn't like the question that Miss Morrell had asked him, and it wasn't answering it, either. It was fact, a statement that was true. Stiles knew a lot of facts.

"It's called voluntary apnea," Stiles focused on the net of his lacrosse stick, threading it tightly to make sure that it was game-ready. "It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's...it's actually kind of peaceful."

"Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?"

How the hell did she get that from his answer? He was just telling her about drowning and how much the people who died suffered until they didn't. He didn't care about the fact that Matt had drowned in the river by the police station that night. There were no feelings, no attachments. Matt was dead and that was that.

Stiles exhaled out his nose. "I don't feel sorry for him."

"Can you feel sorry for the nine-year-old Matt who drowned?"

Morrell's face was blank, her voice was calm. She wasn't judgmental, she was good. Stiles had been going to sessions with her once a month since he started high school when his temper and ADHD had him struggling to adjust to the new environment. She gave good advice and helped him through things that were bothering him. Before his sessions started, he hadn't thought that talking about what he felt was going to work but she proved him wrong.

Still, that didn't mean he had to sympathize with Matt. "Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one."

Morrell nodded and went to move on but Stiles wasn't finished yet.

"And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer," he shook his head, disgusted. "And not just of her, though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into them. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, he had built this whole fake relationship. So, yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."

Morrell smiled softly. "One positive thing came out of this, though. Right?"

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, thinking about how Noah got his job as sheriff back. "Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between us," he nervously fiddled with the lacrosse stick. "I don't know, it's just like tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott."

"Have you talked to him since that night?"

"No, not really," he went back to tightening the net. "I mean, he's got his own problems to deal with, though. I don't think he's talked to Allison, either, but that might be more her choice, you know? Her mom dying hit her pretty hard but I guess it brought her and her dad closer."

"What about your other friends, Jackson and Lydia?"

"Jackson..." he wouldn't consider the prick a friend but he'd answer anyway. "Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually, the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal."

"How's Olivia doing? Have you guys talked since the night at the station?" Morrell prodded. She was more than versed about Olivia Martin, Stiles' interest in her, and their slow and steady climb toward a relationship.

"Yeah and she seems fine, but," he shrugged. "she always seems fine. She was more concerned about me, to be honest."

"Maybe it helps her come to terms with her own feelings," Morrell theorized quietly. "You told me before that Olivia isn't one to share her feelings."

"I know, but she seemed to be better about that lately," At least with me, he added mentally.

Morrell hummed. "And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?"

Stiles spit out the small length of rope he had been chewing on, tying it back to the net. "Why would you ask me that?" he didn't miss the fact that she looked pointedly at his lacrosse stick. "Ah...uh, no, I-I never actually play. But, hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right?"

"You mean Isaac," Morrell realized. "One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?"

Stiles quickly changed the subject. "You're still doing that no-notes thing, huh?" he pointed at her empty desk. "I still can't believe your memory's that good."

"How about we get back to you, Stiles?"

Stiles sighed heavily. "I'm fine," he lied. "Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen."

"It's called hypervigilance," Wasn't that what Mad-Eye Moody talked about in Harry Potter? he tried to recall. Livvy would know about it. "the persistent feeling of being under threat."

"But it's not just a feeling, though," Stiles shook his head. He was familiar with what he felt when his anxiety went off the charts. That tight feeling in his chest, that was a panic attack. "It's like a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe."

"Like you're drowning?"

Stiles didn't even think about the comparison she was trying to make. "Yeah."

"So, if you're drowning and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?"

"You do anyway," Stiles pointed out. "It's a reflex."

"But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?"

"Not much time."

"But more time to fight your way to the surface? More time to be rescued?"

"More time to be in agonizing pain," Stiles argued, blinking rapidly. "I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?"

Morrell blinked at him. "If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?"

"But what if it just gets worse?" Stiles asked, fears racing through is mind. "What if it's agony now and then...and then it's just hell later on?"

"Then think about something Winston Churchill once said," Morrell leaned forward, demanding all his attention. "If you're going through hell, keep going."

That moment in Morrell's office, that quote that somehow encompassed Stiles' whole world in seven words, would stick with him for the rest of his life.

-

-

It smelled like rotted wood, blood, and smoke in the old Hale House. It made Olivia want to vomit and it wasn't just the scent alone that made her nauseous. She hadn't stepped foot in the Hale House since the fire and even when she went looking for Lydia two months earlier, she had refused to go in.

She didn't want the memories that this house gave her. There were good memories, sure, ones where she and Cora used to play dolls, Laura would read them fairy tales, and Derek taught her how to ride a bike. But the fire loomed over those like a shadow. Her mother died in the house, trapped in the basement like the rest of the Hale family. While Peter had escaped his own death, Grace Martin was suffocating from lack of fresh oxygen.

Suffice to say, she hated being there. But for Jackson, she'd spend time there if she had to. She needed to find a way to take care of the kanima without killing Jackson since no one seemed concerned about that anymore, so if she had to spend time in the worn-down house to read a billion of moldy books, she would.

Derek stood at the other side of the table, helping her look for useful information. He was just slapping a book closed and tossing it back on the table when Erica and Boyd entered the room.

Derek stiffened and Olivia paused, looking from Derek to Erica and Boyd. The two betas had decided to leave Beacon Hills, to leave the pack. They weren't cut out for the supernatural war that raged around them, even if Derek had warned them from the start.

"You decided," Derek turned toward them. "When?"

Erica looked reluctant to tell him. "Tonight."

"Everyone's gonna be at the game," Boyd explained. "We figured it was the best time."

"It's not like we want to."

"What do you want?" Derek asked Erica, stepping toward her and Boyd.

"Since I just turned sixteen a month ago, I wouldn't mind getting my license," Erica answered him. "I can't do that if I'm dead, you know."

Olivia bowed her head, thinking about Erica's words. She understood where they were coming from; they weren't family, they didn't know what was at stake, and they had no dog in the fight. They didn't want to die because of who they were or what pack they were in. When Derek bit Victoria Argent and she had to commit suicide because of their ridiculous hunter's code, he had declared war. The Argents weren't going down without a fight, but neither were they.

Still, Olivia would be sad to see Erica and Boyd go. They were pack, plain and simple.

"Well, I told you there was a price," Derek reminded them.

"Yeah but you didn't say it would be like this," Boyd defended themselves.

"But I told you how to survive," Derek raised his voice. "You do it as a pack. And you're not a pack without an alpha."

"We know."

Olivia raised her eyebrows, surprised at Boyd's statement. "You wanna look for another pack?" she knew they could see that she was hurt by that. Hell, Derek was hurt by it. "How are you even gonna find one?"

"We think we already did," Erica told her. "We were running in the woods last night and all of a sudden we heard all this howling. It was unbelievable."

Olivia shared a look with Derek, both of them almost betrayed. Erica and Boyd trusted random howling in the woods over them? Derek was the one who bit them, the one who gave them the gift of lycanthropy. They were Olivia's friends. They were pack.

"There must have been a dozen of them, maybe more," Boyd smiled in amazement.

"Yeah or maybe only two," Derek burst their bubble. "You know what the beau geste effect is?" they shook their heads. "If they modulate their howls with a rapid shift of tone, two wolves can sound like twenty."

Erica huffed, getting frustrated. "Look, that doesn't matter, okay? There's another pack out there. There's got to be," she raised her chin. "We've made up our minds."

"We lost, Derek," Boyd stated. "It's over. We're leaving."

"No, you're running," Derek snapped, getting angry like he always did to cover up the hurt. "And once you start, you don't stop. You'll always be running."

Olivia pressed her lips together as Erica glared at them, grabbed Boyd's hand, and dragged him out of the house. Derek turned back to the table, resting his hands on the warped wood, as his pale-green eyes flickered over to Olivia.

She was distracted, her wide eyes on the spot where Boyd and Erica had previously stood. When he inhaled, he knew why; he grabbed a sharp piece of glass that was resting on the table in front of him and spun around, whipping it at the intruder.

Peter caught the glass just as the point hit the skin of his throat. "I expected a slightly warmer welcome," he stated, lowering the glass. "but point taken."

Olivia narrowed her eyes at her father. She couldn't believe that he was standing right there in front of them. It wasn't a happy kind of disbelief, either. It was the kind that made you want to pull your hair out and punch someone in the face. He wasn't supposed to be alive. He wasn't supposed to be able to hurt anyone ever again.

It had been a shock to find out that Peter had come back from the dead. Derek had told her shortly after the showdown in the police station and she went quiet, not talking for the rest of the night while he stayed in her room, keeping vigil so she wouldn't have nightmares.

Peter had gotten into Lydia's head and manipulated her. That was what all the things that Lydia had been seeing were about. It was him, playing her mind from his grave underneath the floorboard. He got her to do some weird ritual that included drugging Derek with wolfsbane and using mirrors and moonlight—and honestly, it was hard for her to comprehend. Olivia was a smart girl and she believed in science, so how did that explain Peter coming back to life from some alpha blood and light from a full moon. Granted, the existence of werewolves was hard to comprehend, too.

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply.

Peter grinned at her. "Hello to you, too, pumpkin. It's great to see you," he gave his attention to his nephew. "Quite the situation you've got yourself in here, Derek. I mean, I'm out of commission for a month or so and suddenly there's lizard people, geriatric psychopaths, and you're cooking up werewolves out of every self-esteem-deprived adolescent in town."

His voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

Derek narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you want?"

"Well, I want to help," Peter stated like it was the most obvious thing in the word. "You guys are family, my daughter and nephew. The only relatives that I have left. There's still a lot that I can teach you. Can we just talk?"

Peter finished his statement by placing a hand on Derek's shoulder. Derek stared at it in disgust while Olivia raised her eyebrows. This was going to end in a fight, she was betting on it.

"Sure," Derek agreed way too happily. "Let's talk."

He swatted away Peter's hand and pushed him, sending him flying into the stair case.

"Good talk," Olivia hummed as she stood from her seat. "I'm gonna leave before it get any worse."

She'd rather walk the mile back into town and order a ride from Lyft than stay and watch Derek and Peter fight. No, thank you.

-

"Liv, I brought your psycho father back from the dead," Lydia hissed at Olivia as they walked through the empty school hallways, heading toward the boys' locker room. "and you haven't said a word about it. It's been more than a week and nada."

"Because there's nothing to talk about," Olivia insisted stubbornly. "Peter's back, so what? I'll just ignore him."

"You used to visit him every week." Lydia thought she was in denial about how she felt about Peter. She knew Olivia was angry and she was justified, but you can't hate your father. Lydia had tried and she couldn't.

"That was before he murdered a bunch of people, bit me and Scott, almost killed you, and then manipulated you until you thought that you were crazy," Olivia pointed out. "That doesn't seem father material to me, Lyds."

"I mean, yeah, he's a psychopath, but—"

"But nothing," Olivia cut her off, sending her a sharp look. "I don't want to talk about him anymore."

"You know, one day you're gonna explode from all those emotions you keep bottled up inside of you."

Olivia snorted, a little amused. "When did you get your doctorate in psychology, Lydia? I think I missed the ceremony."

"Very funny," Lydia nudged her as they turned down the hallway where locker room was located. "All right, change of subject. You got Stiles a birthday present."

Olivia grimaced, looking down at the wrapped package in her hands. She had hoped Lydia wouldn't bring it up, since she was already tripping out about it, but like any older sister, she just had to tease her about it. Yes, it was Stiles' seventeenth birthday and yes, she got him a gift but it wasn't a big deal. It was a friendly gift. People gave their friends birthday gifts still, right?

"Yeah, and...?" Olivia's strategy was to just face Lydia head on.

"And you're giving it to him before the regional championships," Lydia pointed out needlessly. "You're going to sneak into the locker room to give it to him. Sounds awfully like what I would do when I was dating Jackson."

Olivia rolled her eyes as they came to a stop outside the boys' locker room. "I'm giving it to him now because I don't know if he'll be busy later."

"Mmhm..."

"And I don't give belated birthday presents," she huffed. "It's tacky."

"Yeah, sure," Lydia nodded like Olivia was making sense. "Well, you better go on, then. I'll wait by the concessions for you."

"Get me some some—"

"Air Heads, I know."

Lydia walked away and Olivia inhaled deeply before entering the locker room. Boys were in various states of undress as she walked through the aisles but she ignored them. She spotted Jackson and Danny by their lockers, and usually she would have wished them good luck, but she wanted to give Stiles his present and get out of there before she could get in trouble with Coach.

She found Stiles by his locker, pulling his maroon jersey over his gray compression shirt. "Hey."

Stiles flailed at the sound of her voice, almost tripping backward over the bench he stood in front of. He quickly found his balance and fixed his jersey before plastering a cheesy smile on his face at the sight of her.

Olivia's heart practically turned to goo.

"Hey, Livvy!" he greeted her enthusiastically. "What—what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to give you this," she held out his present, looking more confident than she felt. "Happy birthday, Stiles."

"What?" he quickly took the present from with her a grin. "I can't believe you remembered my birthday."

"Oh," she shrugged awkwardly. "um, yeah, you told me a couple weeks ago."

"Yeah, I guess I did," he ripped away the wrapping paper and gaped at what was inside. "You didn't, Olivia."

Apparently, he liked the present. She had won an auction online where she was able to score a signed mini bat from the Mets. It was Stiles' favorite baseball team and when she saw the low price for an item she knew he loved, she didn't hesitate to get it for him. She also made a joke in the card about how crazy he was for cheering for the Mets, knowing it would get a laugh out of him.

Olivia blinked in surprise when Stiles wrapped her up into a tight hug. It didn't take even a second for her to respond to his affection, burying her face into his warm neck. She couldn't help but notice that his skin was soft and he smelt really good.

"Thanks, Livvy," Stiles breathed when he let go of her. "This is—this is great."

"You're welcome," Olivia smiled at him. "So, are you nervous for the game?"

"Nah," Stiles shook his had nonchalantly. "I probably won't play, so..."

"I don't see why you wouldn't. You're good."

"Have you actually seen me play or are you trying to make me feel good about myself?"

Olivia opened her mouth to respond and paused when Stiles quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I knew it."

"You did not!" Olivia protested, playfully slapping his arm. "I do think you're good."

"Why'd you hesitate then?"

"I wasn't hesitating, I was taking a breath."

"Who takes a breath for that long? It was like you were getting ready to perform some dramatic-ass Shakespeare monologue."

"I don't even like Shakespeare."

"You got a perfect score on your essay about Othello."

"How'd you know what grade I got?"

Suddenly, there was some loud feedback as Coach readied his megaphone. Olivia and Stiles jumped apart in shock, not even realizing that they were moving closer together during their playful banter, to look over at him.

"Good morning," Coach spoke into the megaphone, dead serious. "In less than an hour, aircraft from here will be joining others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind."

What the hell? Olivia mouthed to Stiles, completely confused.

Stiles just shook his head at her.

"Mankind," Coach mused. "That word should have a new meaning for all of us today."

"Does he do this every year?" she whispered to Stiles.

He nodded. "Every year."

"Dear God."

"No kidding."

Coach continued on, "We are fighting for our right to live!"

"Yeah!" most of the team shouted.

Olivia perked up in realization. "Wait, isn't this?"

"Yeah," Stiles confirmed. "it's the speech from Independence Day. It's his favorite movie."

"But as the day the world declared in one voice, we will not go quietly into the night!"

"I mean, the speech from Braveheart would be better than this," Olivia snorted. "Couldn't he rip off Friday Night Lights or something? Glory Road? You know, anything from any sport movie?"

"I don't think he cares," Stiles chuckled.

"Today," Coach ended his dramatic speech. "we celebrate our Independence Day!"

"Yeah!" the players cheered once again, sufficiently hyped up for the game. Olivia couldn't believe that the speech actually worked.

She and Stiles stiffened at the same time as Gerard slithered in next to Coach. "Well spoken, Coach," he praised the man. "I might have chosen something with a little more historical value but there's no denying your passion."

Coach gave him an offended look but Gerard completely missed it.

"And while I haven't been here long, there's no denying my pride in having a winning team for this school," the Argent patriarch continued, looking around at the lacrosse players. "I know you'll all be brilliant tonight, even with only one co-caption leading you."

Olivia gave Stiles a questioning look but he furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing why Scott wouldn't be playing, either.

"Now, I'm your principal but I'm also a fan. So, don't think I'll be content to watch you merely beat this team," Gerard grinned creepily. "Get out there and murder them."

"You heard the man!" Coach yelled. "Asses on the field!"

Olivia shivered at the menacing look on his face as he smirked and left the locker room. "He's probably the worst person on this earth," she mumbled, turning back to Stiles. "This is going to be bad."

Stiles' expression turned worried. "You think?"

"Yeah, I do." She wished that it wouldn't but everything seemed to point in that direction. The whole day, her body had been on edge, like she was waiting for someone to get hurt. The feeling was unsettling and had looking over her shoulder wherever she went.

Argent hunters were brutal. They had proved it time after time.

"You're gonna be careful, right?" Stiles grabbed her hands, squeezing them nervously.

"You don't have to worry about me," she shook her head, squeezing him back. "There's not really anything I can do."

"You can still get hurt, though."

"I won't," Olivia assured him. "Just focus on the game, yeah? Good luck, Stiles."

Stiles smiled lightly, not liking the fact that she was brushing off his concern. "Thanks, Livvy."

"And I'll be careful, okay?" she noticed the look in his eye.

Stiles nodded in satisfaction. "Good," he let go of her hands and ran a finger across the right shoulder of the jersey she was wearing. "Nice jersey, by the way."

Olivia's cheeks flushed; she had forgotten that Lydia forced her into a mock-up of Stiles' jersey, complete with his last name and the twenty-four on each side. "Oh, um, yeah," she nodded nervously. "Good luck, Stiles."

She practically sprinted away from him and out of the locker room, cursing Lydia the whole time.

-

-

Stiles nervously bounced his leg as he thought about what Olivia had said to him earlier. Things were going to get bad. He knew that, yet he couldn't shake the feeling he had inside of him. He was nervous, scared that someone he loved would get hurt, and angry that there was even a situation like this to begin with. Most of all, he felt helpless. There wasn't anything he could do to help. He couldn't help Scott. He couldn't help Olivia or Derek. He couldn't even help himself.

It frustrated the fuck out of him because he had that determination inside of him, he just couldn't act on it. He couldn't go up against a hunter or a werewolf, let alone a kanima, and make it out of the fight. He couldn't even protect his dad from Matt, so how the hell would he be able to protect Olivia when the Argents came after her?

He couldn't just stand by and watch the action unfold while people got hurt. He had to do something.

"Is your dad coming?" Scott broke him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," Stiles looked to the bleachers for a second, seeing his dad already settled in a row near they bottom. "he's already here."

Scott nodded. "You see Allison?"

No, he hadn't, and he didn't think they would at all. Allison had been absent since the night of the full moon when her mom had killed herself. She didn't respond to Scott at all, she was angry with Olivia for siding with Derek—though he didn't know what Allison expected Olivia to even do in that situation—and she was determined to get revenge on the Hale pack. She had dived into the deep end and Stiles was worried she couldn't swim.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "You know what's going on?"

Scott exhaled heavily. "Not yet."

"But it's going to be bad, isn't it?" Stiles knew it would but hearing it from Scott made if feel more real. "I mean, like people screaming and running for their lives, blood, killing, maiming—that kind of bad?"

It was quiet for a second as Scott looked over at him; it unnerved him. "Looks like it."

Stiles inhaled shakily, his eyes starting to sting. "Scott, the other night, seeing my dad get hit over the head by Matt while I'm just lying there and I can't even move," he sniffed and looked back at his best friend. "it just—I want to help, you know? But I can't do the things that you can't do. I can't—"

"It's okay," Scott's voice was soft as he nodded at Stiles in assurance.

And Stiles was glad that out of every other guy in their class, Scott was the one who was his best friend. Because Scott got it. He got that Stiles was afraid but willing to do anything to help. He knew that Stiles felt trapped, sitting on the sidelines while everyone else fought. He understood Stiles. And Stiles knew Scott just as well.

They were lucky to have the relationship they had. It wasn't often that kind of loyalty came around and there it was, each of them sitting next to it.

Stiles tried to make the topic lighter, even if he failed. "We're losing, dude."

Luckily, Coach was there to pep things up. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked him incredulously, having only heard the last statement of their conversation. "The game hasn't even started. Now, put on your helmet and get out there. You're in for Greenberg."

"What?" Stiles perked up, looking around for Coach's most-hated player. "What happened to Greenberg?"

"What happened to Greenberg?" Coach scoffed. "He sucks. You suck slightly less."

Stiles raised his eyebrows in shock. "I'm playing?" he pointed to himself. "On the field? With the team?"

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

"Yeah, unless you'd rather play with yourself."

"I already did that today, twice," Stiles told him absentmindedly, too shocked about the fact that he was playing to notice what he had just revealed.

Scott snickered, making him realize what he said.

"Just get the hell out there!" Coach ordered him.

Stiles squeaked nervously and gathered his lacrosse stick and helmet, running onto the field with the rest of his teammates. On the bleachers, Olivia and Lydia had just taken a seat next to Melissa and Noah, when they noticed what Stiles was doing.

"Oh, no," Noah groaned. "Why is my son running out to the field?"

Olivia perked up, finding Stiles immediately. She knew that he'd get to play today. It was a great opportunity for him to show that he was actually athletic and good at lacrosse. She wasn't lying when she said she thought he was good.

"Because he's on the team?"

"He is," Noah confirmed blankly before realizing the excitement of the situation. "He's on the team. He's on the field," he stood up, throwing his arms into the air as he cheered, "My son is on the field!"

Okay, that was adorable, Olivia mused, sharing a grin with Lydia.

The game started shortly after Stiles ran onto the field and it wasn't going well, to say the least. The first quarter went by fast, with the opposing team scoring two goals within eleven minutes. Every time the Beacon Hills players had the ball, it was a bad play or someone would foul out. When the ball went to Stiles, it always seemed to miss his net.

The next time he got the ball, he actually caught it in his net. Unfortunately, he was too busy celebrating to notice the two large defense players sprinting his way. There was an audible thwack as he was tackled to the ground.

Olivia winced while Melissa sighed. "He's probably just warming up."

She nodded in agreement but her hope was quickly dashed when the ball was tossed to Stiles yet again. He ran backwards in hopes to get it, but ended up tripping over his own feet.

Okay, maybe she hadn't seen Stiles do anything but run fast. In her defense, she thought that would translate into being good on the field.

"He's just a little nervous," Lydia tried to console Olivia and Noah, who were both cringing in on themselves. "There's plenty of time to turn it around."

As if the world was disagreeing with her, Stiles was tackled. The crowd booed loudly; Noah hid his face in his hands.

The new quarter started and when Scott went to enter the game, Coach pushed him right back onto the bench. Luckily, Isaac appeared, dressed for the game and ready to enter.

Olivia sighed in relief, glad that he hadn't gone with Erica and Boyd. She was closest to Isaac out of the three of them and she had been pretty sad when she learned that he was planning on leaving with the other two. He didn't, though. He was here to help.

Erica...Boyd...Erica...Boyd...

Olivia winced when she heard the whispers, the tingling that she had been feeling all day getting more intense in her stomach, chest, and legs. Erica and Boyd were in trouble and she didn't know if it was this so-called pack they had discovered or if the Argents got to them.

She quickly pulled out her phone and texted them both, asking if they were okay. She also messaged Derek, giving him a heads-up on what she was feeling.

Isaac entered the game for the second quarter and it was chaos. Instead of actually playing the game and trying to score, he spent the time tackling players from his own team. As more and more of his teammates went down, Olivia figured out what he was doing. He was making sure that Scott could play—there was no way that Coach would forfeit instead of putting Scott on the field.

It was smart and she was impressed. Until Jackson tackled Isaac and the team paramedics had to run onto the field. From what Olivia could see, Isaac couldn't move anything, which meant that Jackson had used the kanima venom on him.

Isaac, Isaac, Isaac...

Melissa had jumped off the bleachers to run onto the field in order to talk to Scott but she stayed put. She already knew that something was going on and she had learned from Scott earlier that Gerard was now in control of Jackson, the old bastard. This was part of the war, a battle to be won.

The rest of the quarter went by quickly and then it was halftime. The whispering of Isaac's name had gotten so intense that she had to run down to Scott as he rested, telling him and Stiles that something was happening to Isaac inside of the school.

Scott had assured her that he'd take care of it, since there wasn't really a way for her to defend Isaac on her own, and took off inside of the school. Olivia told Stiles that he was doing a great job with a horribly fake smile that he quickly saw through before going back to her seat on the bleachers.

The third quarter started and Scott was still absent. Beacon Hills were down by two points. And then, the fourth quarter started and everything changed. Players from both teams clashed together, sending the ball rolling down the field. It stopped right in front of Stiles, who stared at it like it was a foreign object for a moment.

And then he scooped it up into his net and took off down the field. None of the other players even knew he had the ball, the field between him and goal wide open and clear. Olivia jumped to her feet, cheering loudly with Lydia, as he raced to get there before the other team's defense could catch up.

Olivia was pretty sure she could hear him screeching as he looked back at his huge opponents and when he paused just in front of the goal, she yelled, "Shoot it, Stilinski!"

Stiles whipped the ball into the net, scoring his first goal in his first game.

Olivia screamed in excitement, hugging Lydia as they both jumped up and down. Next to them, Noah was going crazy with pride and Melissa was equally excited, yelling Stiles' name.

With two minutes left in the game, Stiles was on fire. He caught the ball from his teammate and sprinted down the field, twirling around the opposing team's defense like he was made for the sport. He easily scored, tying up the game. The whole crowd was on their feet, cheering him on. Olivia was so proud she felt like crying. Like, actual crying. What had love done to her.

Holy shit, she paused in realization. Love? I love Stiles Stilinski?

She didn't have time to focus on that. There was a minute left in the game and one goal to win.

Stiles didn't disappoint. He scooped up that lacrosse ball and took off, his teammates running after him and shouting in encouragement. Olivia waited anxiously and then screamed excitedly when he scored the winning goal, goosebumps erupting all over her body.

He won the game. He did it. Did she fucking call it or what?

And then the buzzer rang, signaling the end of the game, the crowd roared in excitement, and the lights around the field all went out at once.

Jackson...Jackson...Jackson...JACKSON!!!!

"Jackson?!" Olivia screamed, pressing her hands against her tingling chest.

The crowd was screaming as chaos erupted. They were running down the bleachers and heading toward the field and the parking lot. Lydia was tugging on her arm, and Melissa and Noah had taken off, seeing if they could do anything to help the situation.

Olivia was frozen. Something was wrong with Jackson, something worse than she ever felt.

"Liv, you're crying," Lydia said frantically; Olivia hadn't noticed. "What's wrong with Jackson? Is he okay? Liv!"

Everything sped up at once. Olivia grabbed Lydia's hand and jumped off the bleachers, running onto the field as the lights came back on one by one. There was already a crowd in the middle of the field, surrounding something.

"Somebody's hurt," they heard a guy say as they passed him. "Somebody's down on the field."

Olivia's stomach dropped. It was Jackson. It had to be.

She and Lydia pushed past the crowd in order to get to the middle to see what was going on. Jackson was on the ground, unconscious, with Melissa hovering over him, doing chest compressions.

"He's not breathing," she said rapidly. "No pulse."

"Oh, my God, there's blood," Lydia whimpered, her breath catching. "There's a lot of blood."

Olivia shook her head in complete shock. Jackson wasn't supposed to be dead. He was the kanima, the kanima that Gerard controlled. And now he was dead? He couldn't be dead.

He couldn't be.

"Get down here!" Melissa barked at her, in full nurse mood. "Get down her and hold his head."

Olivia scrambled to obey, dropping to her knees right by Jackson's head. She tilted his head up just as Melissa instructed her to do and tried not to shed anymore tears. Lydia was watching. Lydia was watching Jackson die and she had to be strong for her.

And then all the breath left her as the whispers started up again.

Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. Stiles.

"Where's my son?" Noah shouted from a few feet away, looking around the thinning crowd. "Where's Stiles? Where the hell is my son?"

(Gif is not mine)

[vikireedphotography]

Payload

You’re moving to the moon? Does it come with a swimming pool? 

History prepared us for the failure of computer AI to estimate mankind’s tendency to obliterate every extra inch afforded them.  Earth was rapidly collapsing from the weight of climate change, and the imminent move to our final home, Ganymede (Saturn’s 7th satellite) was forced.  

Yale Sevarin was a witness to the last straw.

Russia dropped a RS-28 Sarmat thermonuclear bomb atop US NAMRU-3; a Naval Medical Research Facility loaded with pathogens, viruses.  Just to help you sleep at night, NAMRU-3 was a Level-3 containment facility. Think lethal airborne infections.  It was the Commander’s last near a time in a combat zone.  

Two-years later the International Federation of Earth, (aka Saturn One Mission) became the most important thing in the world, literally.  Losing Naples to rising sea-levels, along with the priciest real estate in America, wasn’t enough to engage-funded action.  Even after The Bomb the thought of it being too late was impossible to communicate to a population swooned by Energy Czars and members of a solid minority of political fanatics lived to neutralize the science-laden doomsday warnings. What turned the world’s powers into a hive of information sharing and cooperative engineering and merging space program research and tech?  

 The Seats of Power were held at gunpoint by folks who understood that Cowboy Moosaholic demonstrating defecating in an outhouses was meant for them.  Mothers exploded in panic when Puppy Patches sang to children about the use iodine pills to interrupt absorption of radioactive iodine in their thyroid glands. The idea of purifying everything that passed the lips was discommoding for a drive-thru culture.  The line may have been crossed when Daniel Tiger told kids about the inevitable slaughtering of pets and livestock to save resources for themselves and to reduce methane in our atmosphere.  It was too late but it got everyone’s attention.  

Commander Sevarin became synonymous with heroism.  After a decade in the Air Force, applying his particular skill in managing payload and all integrated systems was the sole factor in the last plane out of Qatar to carry more troops to safety on a Hercules C-130 than engineers would ever certify as possible.  

The carrier held 45,000 pounds of cargo, 64 fully prepared paratroopers at 160 pounds, 92 ground-troops of varied weight loaded with 27 pounds of protective gear for starters. There were 11,000 souls and dogs at Al Udeid’s Airbase.  There were other Hercules there, but not enough room for all based on standard weights and measures.  Yale tried to implement a thorough and detailed passenger arrangement, but the scene mirrored the evacuation of the Titanic.  By falling into training, but having so many extra bodies; they’d done the equivalent of having a lifeboat with two rich ladies and a fur coat.   By the time the last plane was being swarmed by stragglers, if you can call so many dead men and women that; they had no choice but to listen to Pilot Commander Sevarin.

He knew at worst he’d only had about ten or fifteen percent of the population to worry about. The physics would be daunting but he felt calculable.  He began dumping chutes, oxygen, fuel beyond the amount needed to get to Point Z.  The dedicated military personnel knew, as they watched their first mushroom cloud from a technically safe position; that they needed to go-now and they didn’t question Sevarin’s order to remove seats, water, ammo, weapons, packs, palettes, phones, vehicles, weapons, ammo,  boots, and all but skivvies.  The Commander kept to himself that he fully expected to throw a few men into the ocean if his calculations proved flawed.  

Staff Sergeant Louis Felly was liked, as a budgeting officer he interacted with every aspect of base life. But his desk job had helped him gain a lot of weight in recent years. At 280 pounds, he was afraid to leave his office, had no weapon, and one could imagine his heart and lungs were well represented by his purple face, and sweat-soaked body.  He was the last one to make it to the Hercules, when Sevarin’s precise reorganization of bodies had been completed.  Felly looked like he might arrest on the tarmac.  The Commander knew even one more thing would cause him to spend precious time, as much as 45 minutes to figure out a way to fit Felly.   The fastest way was to remove two existing passengers, which he couldn’t stomach.  

Yale descended the rear-ramp and stopped the heaving, sobbing mess of a man.  

Having to yell his message made it physically painful to doom the fellow.

“I’m at max capacity! You don’t have a choice, I don’t! Others will come.  I’ll radio for rescue!”

Felly looked behind him at the hangers and abandoned buildings.  Even the dogs had gotten on board the other planes that were or had taken-flight.  This whole base would soon be a target, like other Allied bases in the region.  

Felly grabbed his ankles sobbing, with half-naked, mostly young folks laying, leaning, stacked, hyperventilating and not talking on board behind Sevarin, who was six-foot-two compared to Felly’s panting, slobbering oven-mit of a body.  

“I’m sorry, sir. Wait for rescue, we have to leave as is!”  

Felly screamed some of his last words. Sevarin gave him that.

“Just give my wife a message:  tell my wife that our son’s only job in his life will be to kill you.”

Felly then rolled down the end of the ramp and away, the exit-ramp lifted and no one had to be thrown into the ocean on the way home.

A decade later, the moon’s Dark Side compound was completed, the other two domes-MoonLife itself- would reside. All twelve American Flags and the four Japanese remained where astronauts originally planted them, the domes were built on either side as a memorial. The flags of China, Russia, and India were retired without publicity.  Life on earth was hot enough.

It took five years to ready the moon for it’s first residents once the Dark Side dome was completed.  A fine first run, implementing the solution to construction materials:  moondust and cyanobacteria.   By combining the baccili with moondust and some water and gelatin, the bacteria is activated.  Going into a feeding frenzy and replicating it bonds to the minerals and keeps going until it hits the walls of whatever mold you put it in.  When it has nowhere to go, the composite stops growing and dies; hardening into a green-tinted concrete or a clear media that would become the dome.  To NASA and the newly founded International Space Federation, the green-tint disappeared two-months before the first citizens arrived via the space elevators stationed around allied nations, and from the International Space Station, they would take another space elevator to the moon.  

Once arriving, there was no major physical acclimation because of the atmospheric and habitability management.  Earthlings would arrive on the moon in less than a week and disembark to find themselves in a Disneyland-like Utopia organized around a simulated beach, a town green with a faux wooden gazebo, moving sidewalks, trams encircled each dome with air-locked stops named after peace-loving leaders.  Hydroponic gardens, simulated parks with actual seeded trees from earth, a public pool, recreation center and a mix of three story apartments, efficiency pods and more stately single-family homes in each of the two domes.  The colony was called Saturn-1.  

On Ganymede, now only a three-year flight due to Japan’s innovation in comburent recycled propulsion, as it was named.   Having reformulated the cyanobacteria concept for Ganymede’s composition, the first and much larger Ganymede dome was finished a mere fifteen years after the Dark Side dome became actively inhabited by engineers and their families. Saturn 2 Colony was a bigger and better Disneyland.  It had to be, because the planet we knew was rapidly becoming a large scale Pripyat amusement park.  

Among the hundreds of specialists who created these worlds, was Pilot Commander Yale Sevarin. He had the ability to make a quick-lunch out of AI simulations.  How could a computer value the agony of reminiscing about the smell of warm, freshly plucked strawberries or processing the agony of Felly’s fate?  He was among the first to arrive on Saturn 1.  Because of his mental steel, he was consulted as to who could not come to the moon or salvation on Ganymede.  The incredibly ill or infirm, the mentally-ill, murderers, rapists, pedophiles, finally all livestock and pets (although DNA from all species of living things not human as possible were amply collected).  It wasn’t a moral judgement.  There was simply no way to accommodate their special needs and potential disastrous impact.  There were no police or prisons off-earth.  Hopefully forever.

When Yale turned 63, he was offered retirement.  The world sighed as the first outpost of hope was now a functioning community and the first dome on Ganymede was ready for the residents that had made MoonLife home and homey.   It was not his plan to go there.

He was exhausted from digesting problems that involved casualties, human traits, and payloads. The Federation didn’t ask him to continue in his role as the flights to build Saturn 2.  They could see he was fully shell-shocked.  Sevarin’s ears rang with the vibrations of every machine on the moon, even when no one else claimed to hear it.  Living inside a dome was depressing enough for a pilot.

Being confined for so many years and immersed in unpleasant noises, and daily doses of ‘live or die’, MoonLife outdoors was his reward.  No one but he could sleep in the parks, by the beach or treat the town green’s gazebo as his mailing address.  

His homeless apparition was popular on MoonLife, much like the first children born on Saturn 1 (Heidi and Kevin were blogged and vlogged about endlessly in the effort to promote normalcy on the moon.  They were more popular than any Royal Baby on earth.)  Commander Sevarin was a war hero; he’d been given a commendation by the President, his arrangement of the survivors on the plane generated movies, news stories and tall tales alike.  

Such was his fame that Administrators at The Control Tower installed a sealed box for fans to drop donations, love letters, banana powder, offers to live in their homes and requests for interviews.  His rejection of these offerings and his refusal to be that guy anymore made further appealing.  Yale hoped to live long enough to see something like woods here so he could live in a tent and enjoy the simulated weather as if he were still in Connecticut, before he joined the Air Force and was enlisted by NASA.  

It was PTSD, but everyone had post-traumatic-stress-disorder in a Post Cairo world with endless angst over the Pre Cairo world.  The Federation officials had no problem granting him some freedoms given how he earned his place.  Saturn 1 was his oyster and he kept his security-clearance in exchange for attending regular status quorums at The Federation Control Tower.  For a few hours a month he got to sleep on the simulated beach.  

Besides, there were no insane people on the moon.  He was just special.

Eyes closed, warmish air, the itch of silica in his thinning hair.  He looked up at the rise of the Dome, able to see real stars and a crescent Earth, not man-made clouded blue skies.  The wave machine generated slow, slurping, laps against the bottom of his bare feet.  So glad he insisted on the addition of layered audio enhancement.  It created the illusion of a vast ocean like The Atlantic or Pacific-which would surely dwarfed by the thawing waterways on Saturn 2. Yale could imagine visiting that; but he wouldn’t want to live there.

Sevarin opened his eyes feeling sociable, deciding to visit his donation box at the gazebo.  Deep sleep happened.  So often he lacked adequate recharge because the terrified quaking Felly would stare him down from inside, or the nightmare where the space elevator would stop forever with him in it.  

He opened the donation box, its treasures tumbling through his hands like spigot-water.  Food, fan mail, art- red letter?  He opened it gamely.  

In the middle of the paper was written in generic block letters:

‘GANYMEDE IS AN EXPENSIVE ACT OF FUTILITY FOR YOU.”

Sunday wrecked by paranoid flashes, in this case, warranted.  Now he knew he was not the only lunatic on Saturn 1.

He was loathe to report the disturbing note, as it surely would trigger a psych house-call. In this case, gazebo-call.   Ever since he abandoned his place on the fancier array of homes laid before the town green, the psychological component of the MoonLife team had ordered regular visits.  PTSD was a known factor in violence, anti-government ideology, addiction problems, etc.  

Yale didn’t aid his cause by growing his beard and hair and often going barefoot always sporting rumpled and mismatched clothing. No, they might take away his freedom to stay outdoors.  

Sevarin was out of retirement with his new role:  Secret Police.    

His first day was spent at Tower Control, where Yale was known to appear with coffee for his former colleagues then work the terminals, reviewing data. Occasionally he’d find something they’d missed.  The red letter’s author had to be caught on video.  CCTV footage would end the mystery.   He found instead a three-hour loop of nothing happening at the gazebo repeated the entire night.  Clearly, only someone in the Tower had access to that kind of alteration.

All but one-person was busy preparing for the first Saturn 2 transport in two weeks.  The trend continued as he returned to the Gazebo. On a berm intended to be a gathering place for Saturn 1, claimed a generous view left to right of the finest homes-part of the Tower Control High Priority perks.  He went directly to his donation box.  A basket of potatoes and another red letter.  He looked at the outside this time:

 “TO:  COMMANDER YALE SEVARIN”.   No ‘from’. The message inside:

“YOU WILL KNOW ME SOON ENOUGH”.

 He wished he could burn-it and piss on it.  He jammed it in a pocket in his wrinkled, not so clean trousers.  This, like the potatoes would find a home in the air-lock by the Dark Side Dome later.

Liri Wilson’s morning was routine enough.  Aneeka, her live-in au-pair and housekeeper made coffee.  NASA had created a space-substitute and a prelim bean but it lacked earth-warmed inspiration.  It was the only imported earth product aside from rare quantities of aged booze.

Her class of residence had three-stories and walls that reached the top of the dome.  Just a foot of bacilli plexi between her swanky party and certain death.  

The automatic blinds which retracted almost unnoticed on a schedule, featured a large dark splotch of a shadow amidst the horizontal ones created by the slats.  

When Aneeka appeared with three-year-old Jeson in her arms and rubbing his eyes; Liri enjoined her.

“What do you think that is?”  Aneeka was only twenty-two, having been born to some of the original workers in the Dark Side Dome.  First she looked at the shadow Missus was pointing at, then up at the dome’s ceiling.

“Maybe a shirt? A moon rock?”  

“How’d I miss that? How did maintenance miss that!?”

“Show Mister?” Aneeka added.

“Right I will. Anyhoo, let’s get that boy fed, we’ll go to the beach maybe?”  With the kiss from a baby she moved on.  Yale hadn’t noticed the peculiarity, too busy spying on Milo leaving that morning.

Nothing unusual. Milo heads Environment and Habitability. Down the line, a non-descript parade of civil servants looking bored being on the moon.  He had to assume the red-letter writer knew to lay-low.  Once a soldier and pilot; being homeless means anywhere is your home and you don’t really register with people.

Yale sat on the floor of the gazebo, eating a cake left in the box.  No further red letters.  As light dimmed, he sucked down substitute chocolate milk.  

Twenty minutes later he observed the Wilson House alight with a party-full of his targets.

The blinds were up because it was virtual night.  All of the familiar bosses glided down the moving sidewalk and hopped off at the front door.  It was a normal party until Milo activated the opalescent privacy screen in his living room.  The only way to ensure no eavesdropping, filming, recording of any kind. Nicknamed the “Cone of Silence” after a television antiquity from earth.   Interesting.  Who were the high rollers playing blackout with?  Suddenly, Liri reappeared with empty glasses, fixing to refill them in the kitchen.  She saw the “Cone of Silence” Paused then quickly but delicately grabbed the comm handset on the kitchen wall and listened.  You couldn’t block a hard wired comm, but they had no reason to worry about a wife.  

She appeared spooked and spastically replaced the handset, scurrying out of site with her fresh cocktails.

When the party concluded, Yale perked-up.  Spilling out of the front door, all said ta-rah, nite-nite, etc., recoupled and let the sidewalk coast them home-except for a Science Officer, Rami Mandoon-he waved his wife ahead. His head scanned ceiling to house and back.  

The Lewis house lowered its blinds and Yale dragged his finger from Rami’s head to the vantage point which held Mandoon’s focus: the ceiling of the dome. A dark patch that looked like a misshapen flower broke-up the illusion of stars in the simulated night sky.  

The next morning, Milo called after having made an early silent exit; skipping breakfast with the baby.  

“Liri:  listen to me.  Don’t interrupt.  Call Akeena’s parents and have them meet you at the platform for Shuttle 2.   Be there before three p.m. You cannot be late. You must not take a later shuttle to the elevator.  This is serious.  I cannot tell you why and I have to get off comm now.  Are you clear?  Say NOTHING to anyone. Tell me you heard me.”

“Darling there’s a sort of greenish ice on the celing…”

“Shuttle 2, three p.m. I love you.”  Comm broken.

She tried connecting over and over but his comm was shut-down.  

As this conversation ended, Yale was in Tower Control, reviewing system status for everything from environment, to transport.   He’d seen the ice.  Fight or flight would be the administrative response to something that clearly would have appeared in A.I. data if nothing else.  He’d seen no technicians milling around Wilson’s home or anywhere out of the norm.

It failed to show anything but the routine.  He would be panicked if he had a wife and child, like Milo does.  He focused on him as he delivered coffees and scratched his beard exaggerating his loopy retired boredom.  Lewis’s cup remained untouched on his office desk.  

It occurred to him, that the Dark Side dome might yield data.  Integrity loss could be overlooked because it was hidden from view, it’s the oldest structure on MoonLife.  It took fewer than ten minutes to see no one was living there, maintenance was offline.  True, the technicians had largely left for Saturn 2.  They’d left last year, to make schedule on construction with the planned evacuation happening and needing to be ready for inhabitants in six years when they would arrive.  But no one left?

As furiously as he could, Yale requisitioned an engineering drone, taking it offline first and cloaking it.  They were the longest 25 minutes of his life.  He hummed to look casual and laughed at nothing to avoid the appearance of actually doing something very important.

He turned the cameras on.  Even with night-vision employed it was shockingly obvious that the dome was not smooth, clear plexi anymore, but a lumpy curved rock.  The synechococcus bacillus hadn’t died once the forms were filled, but they had merely gone dormant.  The air-lock between Dome 2 and this first one, was not only shut down but devoured by what reminded him of sparkling, dripping candle wax, blobbing over each new layer.  This had not happened in the year since the construction teams had left for Saturn 2. This was why the first import of fresh Terra people was hard scheduled in two weeks.  Sevarin tingled recalling The Federation treating his retirement three years previous as an honor for his life’s dedication to humanity.  He thought himself a special case and was desperate to stop worrying about other people’s lives so he embraced what he now saw as a con.   How could the bacilli remain dormant when we had artificial rain, a beach, pools and lakes? They only needed water and without the gelatin engineered, the reincarnated bacteria would grow into a concrete, splitting the protective domes.  

Death to all here with certainty.  

Yale then disguised a system query as a signal and repeat ping but what he really was doing was retrieving Milo’s comm activity, starting with this morning.  

CLASSIFIED:

DATE:                        06/14/52

MEMO FROM ISF COMMAND, EARTH, KSC-0917 a.m.

SUBJECT: ML/SAT. 1 /M.LEWIS COMM-ALERT (RED/1A)

Capt.M.Lewis of IFS Team on Saturn 1/MoonLife comm’d spouse at 08:41.  Alerted her to board Shuttle 2, destination Space Elevator Station at 1500 p.m.  Capt. Lewis immediately closed comm after aforementioned conversation with spouse. Unreachable directly.  Appears to have removed internal GPS tracking.  No change in Operation VACATION.  Tracking Capt.Lewis on CCTV.  Will update as needed.  Referring to Capt.Lewis as Fox1, his spouse as Fox2 going forward.  Fox2 is currently at Tower Control activating Operation VACATION as previously commanded.

Additional: Comm.Pilot, (ret) Savarin (now referred to as LOGO1) is unscheduled but also inside Tower Control.  Alert Watch ACTIVE. Subject is known to visit Tower Control since retirement, documented loss of faculties, living outdoors since retirement of commission.  Likely a social visit.  Internal GPS tracking active.  Updates to follow.

CLASSIFIED:

DATE:                        06/14/52

MEMO FROM ISF COMMAND, EARTH, KSC-1545 p.m.

SUBJECT:  FOX2, STATUS UPDATE

CCTV tracks FOX2, in the company of Jeson Lewis (age 3) and Aneeka, Bindi and Daku Smithson (DOMESTICS employed by FOX1) to Shuttle 2.

FOX2 appears to be alerted by Shirley Mews (Spouse of Director Alton Mews, 2nd In Command, Saturn 1) who is safely on Shuttle 3, departing at 1500 p.m.  FOX2 leaves platform for Shuttle 2 and breaches safety fence to communicate with Mrs. Mews, who expresses visible panic and gestures indicate she has invited FOX2 on board.  At this point FOX2 climbs between cars, boarding Shuttle 3.

Simultaneous to this incident, The Smithson Family and Jeson Lewis choose to board Shuttle 2 when it arrives.  Akeena Smithson is seen and heard to be screaming for FOX2, who cannot hear her from inside of Shuttle 3.   Presumably informed by FOX2, who was directed by FOX1; the Smithsons and minor Jeson board and the doors close on all departing shuttles.  

Some alarm appears to spread among those who are waiting for Shuttles 1, 4, 5 and 6, operating normally with local stops between Main Shuttle Station and Space Elevator Docking.  

Subjects directed to Shuttle 2 all appear to have boarded as directed securely on 06/13/52. No evidence of a security breach on their parts.  Included on Shuttle 2 are all executives and technical staff who were needed to implement OperationVACATION, but who are deemed as non-essential for activities on Saturn 2; and who’s presence on Saturn 2 may be disruptive upon completion of Operation VACATION.  

At 1509 p.m. FOX1 and Comm.Pilot Sevarin (ret.) arrive at Shuttle Platform 2 after being visualized on CCTV running from Control Tower at full speed.

FOX1 is observed collapsing, possibly crying. Vocal enough to draw the attention of residents arriving at Shuttle Station for local rides.  ISF COMMAND has grave concern about FOX1 and Comm.Pilot Sevarin alerting Saturn 1 remaining population.  

FOX1 is observed likely ingestion of cyanide capsule behind commission pin on uniform, made standard from the start of Operation MoonLand.  Appearing to have a seizure while still sitting on the ground, then fall to his right side and cease moving.  

Unaware residents attempt to call for help at Tower Control, which will result in no answer as the TC is empty on relevant Floors/Offices Three and Two.  

KSC has initiated 3 day simulated rainstorm ahead of schedule immediately to force residents indoors.  

The tactic appears to work everywhere except for The Shuttle Station, where residents are hovering around a deceased FOX1.  

CCTV also observes Comm.Pilot (ret.) Sevarin searching FOX1’s clothing and person.

Highlighted at minute-mark is a section of video running 19.2 seconds, attached with full CCTV report on the incident for review.  

Comm.Pilot Sevarin (ret.) retrieves a red piece of paper, unfolds it, reads it, then walks to CCTV Unit #986S1.  Subject climbs on a nearby bench and holds one side of the paper to unit’s lens. It reads (confirmed) in FOX1’s handwriting:

“TO:  COMMANDER PILOT YALE SEVARIN, ‘HERO’

FROM:  LOUIS FELLY, SON OF CAPTAIN FELLY, MURDERED.”

After holding this side of the paper to CCTV Unit #986S1 for approximately .09 seconds, flips the red paper over to reveal a second message, which Sevarin holds up to the same CCTV unit’s lens for remaining 10.07 seconds.  It reads (same handwriting):

“MY ONLY JOB IN THIS LIFE WAS TO KILL YOU.

I TOLD THEM YOU WOULD TRY TO STOP THEM.”

At 1539 p.m., the aforementioned red note disappears from view of CCTV Unit #986S1.

Updates to follow.

 Sevarin felt badly for Milo, even though he’d hatched a successful plan to follow him all the way from his childhood to the moon to finish his father’s business.  Certainly Milo didn’t plan on suicide but he’d missed his ride to Saturn 2.  

For the first time since he arrived at MoonLand, Sevarin felt alone because this was the first time his story was important.  If he told it, the people left behind under the cannibalistic Domes would react to their imminent demise with the same panic seen on The Titanic.   But all of the lifeboats were gone, our leadership having taken just two that appeared to be important, to a dirty escape.  Milo was right, I would’ve hampered the IFS and NASA; looking for a solution and trying to engage the hive up until the last minute.   They decided to save themselves.  

Sevarin walked down the still moving sidewalk to his gazebo to shelter from the pounding, but thankfully warm simulated summer rain.  Looking up at the simulated overcast daytime sky, hoping they’d let the program go and grant him sunset over his beloved beach.  He’d find an umbrella by then.  

Yale wanted to live. That’s human.  But this journey from Al Udeid to the moon had cracked him and soon the microbes would fill the void.  He grew bored and shuffled to Milo and Liri’s home, having removed his security key from his body.  The plan was to watch some movies and figure out what was going to happen when the rain stopped.  It really didn’t matter if it did.  But on route to his destination, he noticed in the windows of lesser residents, in ground floor apartments, and in storefronts laying inert on the floors of their sealed homes.  Some were still besotted with rain, having done exactly what it was meant to do. Made sense.  You can’t panic and alert family and friends on Earth if you’re dead.  

He wasn’t sure it was safe indoors at this point.  Thankfully the people who pitied him left some lovely food in his box, and he’d held onto a book they’d left there. He also had a comm device but it was predictably offline so he couldn’t find entertainment that way.  

The next day, he awoke on the gazebo which was showing signs of reproducing and becoming uncomfortable.  As were the sidewalks, which were now jammed up by the calcification gone wild.  He heard a sonic boom and looked up to see see what was probably one of the Shuttles feathering down in small luminescent shreds.  Two left for Ganymede and one, in a sense had come back.  

Yale spend a fair bit of time wondering what the plan on earth was.  We’d been telling the public for nearly thirty years “Stay here and die, come to Saturn 2 and live!”  Now there was no safe place to move the population in groups.  They might get a lot of people to the Space Station by elevator if they hurry, and we all know who those folks would be. And those left behind still had guns and bombs and trucks; once the infantry men and women realized they were being left to die, they might not protect those elevators very long.  

CLASSIFIED:

DATE:                        06/15/52

MEMO FROM ISF SPACE STATION-1800 p.m.

SUBJECT:  STATUS OF SATURN 2 TRANSPORT.

AUTHOR:  GENERAL MICHAEL THREFALL, ISF

This is to confirm SIMULTANEOUS ENGAGEMENTS OF TARGET, AKA, SHUTTLE 2.

NOTHING INTACT, SOME DEBRIS FALLING TO LUNAR ATMOSPHERE. NO WITNESSES PRESUMED ON MOONLIFE /JUPITER 1 BASE.  

SUCCESSFUL RECEPTION OF SHUTTLE 3; REQUEST INSTRUCTION AS TO HANDLING OF UNEXPECTED PX. (FOX2, SPOUSE OF FOX1, PRESUMED DECEASED BASED ON CLASSIFIED REPORT DATED 06/14/52).  

FOX2 EXTREMELY DISTRAUGHT AS HER CHILD WAS ON SHUTTLE 2.  

MEDICAL EXAMINATION PROVIDES INSIGHT THAT FOX2 IS HEALTHY AND PREGNANT, FIRST TRIMESTER.  

WISH TO CONFIRM EXISTENCE OF PILOT COMMANDER YALE SEVARIN IF POSS.

UPDATES TO FOLLOW.

 Being last man on pseudo-earth meant he was free to commit breaking and entering; in the hopes that whatever they pumped in the domiciles to kill potential chaos had dissipated.  

“EUREKA!” celebrated Yale, adorning a facemask made of his shirt.  Smashing the living windows at 12 Adams Street, where Milo lived. Gas and air hissed out.   He returned a few hours later, just as the scheduled rain program finally ended.   Hoping to have a luxe sleep before he drowned himself at the beach, he raided the Wilson’s pantry, closets and screening room.  

Mid-film he realized that Milo wasn’t included in the escape plan.  He’d serve a purpose, providing he got on Shuttle 2, since that’s the one he told Liri to board and the one that probably got blown-out of the sky.   When those on earth demanded to know why people on Ganymede weren’t answering hails?    The IFS on Saturn 2 would have a name.  God rest all of your souls, there is nothing more that we can do because of the incompetence and sedition of a man in disguise, Captain Lewis Felly Jr.   Yes, the son of that guy.  

It made Sevarin laugh as he stepped further into the fake surf than he ever had.  The wave machine had stopped generating but the audio enhancement thankfully was inconsequential to shutting down and killing everyone on MoonLife.   It made him laugh to think of poor, pathetic Felly.  

[crumpledsilkskin-blog]

TWO

In a world where superheroes are commonplace, Ter and Clarence have always been close, but when normally upbeat Clarence comes into the office downtrodden and depressed, Ter must now figure out what's wrong.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Actually, it was yesterday. Clarence Monroe was a hyperactive individual. Like a five year old hopped up on cough syrup and Twizzlers stuffed into the body of a twenty six year old man. However, this morning wasn’t like that. He didn’t zoom his way in and zip around the office. No overly happy Good Mornings or even a light speed peck on the cheek for all the ladies. True, Tricia from sales managed to catch him last week. His bad luck that’d she’d only recently discovered she could see at different vibrational frequencies, but I doubt that’d be what was bothering him.

I mean this is a man who, the minute his grandfather died, he grabbed his body and ran him out to Loch Ness as a last wish. No crying no mourning. He says he spent months crying his eyes out but, to us it’d only be a few seconds. Some nonsense about time dilation or the other. Yet the man I saw in front of me this morning emulated none of those traits. His desk was right next to mine, so every millimeter he dragged the chair across the marble floor was agony.

“Good morning to you too sunshine.” I laughed.” Let me guess, still dealing with Reeses’ Jiggy Juice?”

“What!?” he asked. Clarence squinted and cocked his head.

“Reese! Kelvin Reese! Bartender, our good friend. His ability is pleasure? Uses it to make god level drinks, instead of being a gigolo like we advised him?”

“Sorry Ter, could you mimic me? I’m having a lot of trouble understanding when you speak so slowly.”

I sighed. With a deep Inhale I placed a hand on his shoulder. That familiar tingle in my spine started before I opened my eyes to a world moving ten times slower than before. “How do you deal with this? It’s like living in sludge!” I complained.

“You get used to it.” He smiled, yet he said it in a monotone voice, a worrying tell.

“So yeah like I was saying, Jiggy juice. Had too much?”

“You still drink that shit!?” he shouted in surprise.” You know you’re literally drinking his sweat right? It’s how his power works, his bodily fluids contain enzymes that attack your pleasure center.”

“No no, I’m sure there’s like. Distillation and evaporation and...Something.” I nodded. My eyes darted left to right in a nervous bid to recall the specifics. “Whatever you need to justify drinking sweat.”

“Listen, we’re not talking about who drank sweat or semen or whatever. We’re talking about you! What’s up? Where’s all that speedster energy you usually have?”

He laughed an awkward laugh, if only to loosen up a bit.” So umm, I may have did something last night.”

“Oh did you text Chrissy again? Dude I told you! Body switching sex will fuck with you!”

“No, no!” he cringed.” God never again! No I uhh...I uhh...I played the lottery.”

A lengthy sigh, accompanied by an equally lengthy groan was my response. I took my hand off his shoulder went back to my work.”

“Ohcomeondon’tbelikethat!Dude...Dude!” without his power I just couldn’t keep up with Clarence. His speech was just too fast. It wouldn’t be long before I could understand him anyway though. That’s just how my powers worked. Given enough time and proximity to someone, I could copy their power for a period of time. Physical contact just sped up the process. Not a bad ability by any means but, sometimes it’d be hard to control. One time when I was four, I begged my mom to take me into a toy store for Christmas. Which should have been harmless, except one of the sales reps had a persuasion ability.

After twenty minutes of browsing I walked away with five action figures, six puzzles and god knows how many tiny plastic dinosaurs. Not to mention I’d made the manager shit himself for the hell of it. Come to think of it I may have been a troublesome four year old. “WHY? Why would you do that? What could you possibly need all that money for?”

“SeeIknewyou’dreactlikethis! This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you!”

“So I’m supposed to accept you telling me this is our last day together?”

“No, no it’s not our last day don’t be so morbid. I’m not like other speedsters.”

“Lloyd on the second floor said the same shit! Where is he now huh? Ran into another timeline just like everyone else.”

“Not EVERYONE else.” Clarence protested. “Look at Caroline Gutierrez, she found her way back.”

“Yeah, after twenty YEARS of jumping through timelines and alternate earths.Caroline is evidence of god. She made it back here on a one in Fifty quintillion nine hundred and forty three chance. If you were that lucky you wouldn’t need to play the lottery.”

A somber expression formed on Clarences’ face. Great pain was about to come bubbling forth.

" They’re foreclosing on my mom’s house.”

“What!? But they can’t do that! She’s got SCA! What about all her medication! All her things...Your grandfather built that house!”

“I know!” Clarence shouted.” But they’re the bank, they can do what they want. I could ask for three raises and work overtime from now till foreclosure, I won’t even make half that money.”

I was dumbfounded, not only was I hurt that my best friend had kept such an important thing from me, but I was angry at myself that I couldn’t readily come up with a justifiable solution.

“It’s ok...we’ll...we’ll figure something out.” I nodded.” There’s speedster races all the time... we could win some money. I mean...you’re pretty fast right?”

“Ter I can’t build a house to save my life! No matter how long I read an architecture textbook or look at blueprints, it just ain’t happening. Super speed be damned.”

“Well you’d better learn! You can’t leave your mom like that. Or are you and Chloe going to welcome her into your little rat infested square?”

“Don’t knock that apartment. I remember you begging me to stay in it when you got kicked out.” He was right. When I was eighteen my father was dating this man who had the ability to always make people tell the truth. No matter what. That a grown man couldn’t control his powers to begin with was ASTOUNDING, but I digress. After three months of him constantly hearing you’re not my mother and home wrecking twink and my personal favorite, mom didn’t die for this. It was me or him, and I wasn’t about to make my father choose me over happiness. So I hope him and Darren are happy...wherever they are.

“Ok...sorry, you’re right but, there has to be a way, something better.”

“I am doing that something better, I’m trying my luck at the lottery.”

“But it’s a scam!” I shouted.” You know it’s designed to make you fail.”

Clarence smiled a calm smile and placed a hand on my back.” Listen Ter, I know you’re worried I’m gonna run back in time and play the right numbers, and you’ll be stuck right here in this timeline, but you have to trust me, I’m your best friend. I’d never leave you and mom alone here...ok?”

“And Chloe, you can’t forget Chloe.”

“Right, right.” He laughed” I can’t forget Chloe. Anyway, how about I come over and watch the draw with you tonight. I’ll sleep over so, there won’t be any worry about me running back in time or anything.”

He let go of my shoulder and gave me a wink before he zipped into the employee lounge for a cup of morning coffee, all before starting up his computer.

◊◊◊

Work had gone on relatively uneventful. Save a bit of fire breathing and berserker rage. Clarence arrived at my house around nine. True the draw happened at nine thirty, but he was supposed to be here at eight, and for someone with super speed, that’s just ludicrous. We must have sat on that couch talking about nonsense for the next twenty minutes, because I didn’t notice the time go by.

“You doin okay man?” he asked.

“I’m fine , I’m fine.” I waved.

“You sure? I heard Wallace’s fire gets as hot as lava when he’s mad.”

“Yeah but, I only copy powers at like eighty percent. Doesn’t burn me as much when I use it.”

“Well, I guess that’s good. God, the higher ups need to do something about him. How the hell is a fire breathing supervisor a healthy work environment?”

“It’s not, but if we want money in our pockets we’d better take it.” I laughed.” Anyway, the draw is starting.”

A petite brunette walked out from behind the lottery machine on television. She looked like a model. Like it was either this or porn and she lucked out that she knew someone in that station. “Goodnight ladies and gentlemen. This weeks’ national lottery is estimated to be two hundred and thirty million dollars.”

“Two hundred and thirty million! Dude, if you don’t win...You run! You run your ASS back as fast as you can.”

Clarence laughed. “You could always come with me you know? Spend the night cuddling up and in the morning we make a sprint for Wednesday.”

I shook my head.” I still wouldn’t be fast enough to keep up with you. We’d break the barrier sure but I could end up days, years...Millennia behind or ahead of you.”

Clarence had a somber look on his face before he said “Oh.”

“Come on.” I tapped him on the shoulder with a smile.” The draw is starting.”

Clarence fished around in his pocket for the ticket while the brunette spoke. We both watched intently, as the balls bubbled around in the machine before the first one shot up. “The first number is...thirteen.”

“Holy shit! I got thirteen!” He exclaimed, sitting forward and staring attentively at the television.

“What really? Let me see.” I scanned the ticket with my eyes, sure enough. There in the first position, was thirteen. Before I could await the others though, Clarence snatched the ticket back, an irritated expression on his face.

“The second number is, forty five.”

“No shit!” Clarence chortled.

“The third number is, thirty nine.”

“Ok so if I win...We are quitting tonight!” Clarence stated, pointing a firm finger at the ground.

The last two balls flew into the tube at the same time...” The final three numbers are Forty three Twelve and Two.”

The woman finished with the usual T.V. drivel, thanks for playing and repeating the winnings and all that. From the ticket I realized he’d only lost by two numbers. I couldn’t see Clarences’ face, but I knew. I knew he was down, I knew his mind wasn’t in the right place and I knew exactly what he was thinking. “Hey, hey man you don’t even need to worry about that. I can take out a loan, we’ll do some over time. I promise, we’ll save your moms’ house I swear.”

He didn’t answer, didn’t even turn around. He just answered”Yeah” in a soft and somber tone. He was silent for a while, long after I took off the T.V. didn’t think the numbers being repeated incessantly could be any good for him.

“Clarence...you ok man?” I asked, squeezing his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, no...Yes!” He answered. His eyes drifted to an empty bowl on the table in front of us. “We need snacks, come on man what kinda sleepover doesn’t have snacks.” He grabbed the bowl and rushed t the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“Clarence wait!” I shouted as I ran over to join him at the door.” You can’t...”

“Easy there Ter. I’m not gonna run back to Wednesday. Just down the street.” He smiled.

“Who knows what you’ll meet. What’ll happen...”

“Ter, Ter, Ter...I already said, it’s just for snacks.” Clarence gave me a light pat on the back before he opened the door disappeared in a flash of colors.

I sighed, desperately trying to come to terms with the reality that I may have just lost my best friend. Suddenly!

“Boo!” I was jumped almost to the point of self-defection by him returning almost as abruptly as he left.

“Holy shit Clarence!” I shouted at unbearable decibel levels, all as I clutched my chest.

Clarence laughed a hearty laugh then shut the door behind him. “Scared you did I?”

“Damn near killed is more like.” I complained before taking a seat back on the couch. Clarence placed the bowl, now containing two unopened bags of potato chips and a jar of dip on the table before he joined me.

“I’m sorry but, that’s what you get for not believing me.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, yeah” I waved him off.” No line at the store I take it?”

“Nah I had these at home.” He chuckled.” I knew you were worried I’d run so I bought these after work. Let me tell you I must have been the first person anxious to lose the lotto.” He held his stomach and chortled with satisfaction.

“Frickin asshole.” I complained, all before I snatched a bag of chips and opened it up.”

“Come on.” He slapped my arm.” Let’s go to the roof. The streets are always awesome after lottery night.”

He was right, the sight of hundreds of speedsters running faster than the speed of light was something to behold. It was as if the entire city was having a rave as flashes of red and orange and yellow filled the streets below.

“How could something so beautiful signal something so horrible?” I sighed.

“It’s not horrible to them. In their mind they’re coming out on the other side to meet their family and friends. The only thing changed is them.”

“It’s selfish is what it is, and I can’t forgive any speedster that does it.”

Clarence chuckled.” Of course you can’t. That’s what I love about you Ter. Which is why you’ll never have to worry about me doing a thing like that.”

◊◊◊

Unfortunately...That was a lie. We spent the night talking, joking. Enjoying ourselves. It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time to be honest. Then come morning, he was gone. I thought maybe he’d had too much to drink and had a hangover, that’d explain the absence from work, but no call? No informing me? That was as far away from Clarence as humanly possible. By the sixth unanswered call the worry had set in. By this point I’d made up my mind that I’d go check in on him after work. See if he was ok, yet all I found was disappointment. Otherwise known as a hungry Chloe and a note.

Hey Ter, how are you doing? Good I hope...I’m doing good too. Or at least...I hope I will. Doubt I’ll ever be happy again though. Why you ask? Well see for the first time in my life, I’m going to lie to you Ter, I’m going to assure you that I’m ok, that I’m not scum and we’ll be best friends forever, just the two of us, but that’ll be a lie. In truth, I’m not strong like you Ter. I didn’t inherit invulnerability from a parent like you did. I’m weak and afraid. Sorta fitting for a speedster wouldn’t you say? Lol. Look, I’ve rewritten this awful letter over a hundred thousand times now, and there’s just no proper way to say sorry for what I’m gonna do, for what I’m feeling. Which is why when I get there. After I’ve won, I’m gonna pay off mom’s debt, give that you the rest of the money, and spend the rest of my life, trying to get back to you. I might die before that happens. I might get ripped apart by time, break the universe it doesn’t matter. Even that, will never be enough punishment for what I’ve done. I can’t be sure of when you’ll find this letter, but I pray it’s tomorrow. When you do please, take care of Chloe. You’re all she has now.

Chloe isa Golden Retriever me and Clarence had rescued from the pound. She is about as average a dog as you could think, except for a few hang-ups. Her fur is snow white and her eyes blood red. Her fangs would grow when she was agitated and her hair would stiffen to the hardness of needles. To top it all off, whenever I got near her I seemed to mimic certain psychic abilities. Most likely her condition was the result of a previous owner, though I couldn’t be sure.

Just then there was a tingling in my brain before a familiar voice popped into my head.” Ter! Ter!” it repeated, It was Chloe, she was most likely rummaging through the kitchen in anticipation of dinner when she heard me come in.

“Hey girl!” I chirped, taking a knee in order to greet her better. I was met with a series of playful bites and excited licks. “Easy girl easy.” I laughed.

“Hungry! Dinner! Feed!”

“Ah right! It is dinner time for you isn’t it?” I smiled. I knew exactly where Clarence kept the dog food, so it wasn’t a problem for me to find it and feed her.

After quickly eating up all the food. She came right up to me tail a wagging, all before she sat down and looked up at me while panting. “Alpha!” I heard in my brain.

I sighed.” Alpha is...not here Chloe.”

She stopped panting for a minute and looked up at me. Her red eyes glowing. A telltale sign that she was in fact, learning everything she needed from me psychically. A high pitched and stressful doggy whine echoed from her while in my mind all I heard was “Alpha gone! Alpha gone!? Never come back! Leave!” Chloe howled sorrowfully, if I didn’t know better I could say I felt it shake the walls.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh easy girl, easy.” I knelt again to try to calm her down.

Eventually when the whining stopped she started licking my face and I heard.” Ter, Alpha! Ter, Chloe Alpha!”

I don’t know what it was about her liking my face and calling me her new Alpha but it brought on the tears I’d been trying to hold back all day. “That’s right Chloe...it’s just the two of us now.Ter Alpha.”

…