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Pitchmas 2019, Part 3: Blade

Blade: Vamp Lives Matter

I feel a little odd working on this one, since it would definitely be best to put it in the hands of an African American writer & director, but assume I’ll put my foot in my mouth a little (usually a fair assumption with me anyhow).

An African American woman runs through the wet streets of Harlem at night. She’s pursued by vampires, white ones, because if we’re going to do this we’re doing it right. Subtly, she’s leading them on a merry chase until they hit an alleyway and think they’ve got her cornered. Blade follows them into the alley, and makes short work of all but one, who gets the drop on Blade enough for us to worry. A metal hand ruptures through the vampire from behind; it’s now that we recognize the woman, and see the characteristic steel in her eyes: it’s Misty Knight.   

“Damnit,” she says, noticing one of them is wearing a policeman’s uniform. “I didn’t want you to be right,” she says. “Neither did I,” he says, and cleans his sword before sheathing it. Vampires have been working to infiltrate local police departments, especially on the night shift (usually turning the nightshift management into thralls or blackmailing them, so they can still influence policy during the day). They bury vampire-related assaults and deaths. “Shit,” she says, noticing the one in uniform had a bodycam. She takes it off, and turns it off. “Wired or wireless?” Blade asks. “We’re already in the cloud,” she says. “Can you erase it?” “No easier than you could.” “How long before it gets reviewed?” “Probably not until morning, unless someone reports them missing before then.” “Could you review it before then?” “Not anonymously. Why?” “It doesn’t matter if I’m on the footage. Risks aren’t worth preserving my anonymity. Yours?” “I appreciate the chivalry-” “I need someone embedded in the police. You can’t be if you’re suspended and under investigation.” Blade scoops the bodies into a nearby dumpster and sets them on fire, to make sure it will take longer for identification. They decide she’ll check first thing at the start of her shift in a couple of hours, stop at an all night diner to plan that contingency. It’s a recurring thing that Misty teases Blade for not having a life, social, romantic or otherwise.

We find out that the vampire cops have been preying primarily on African Americans. “Another black body drops in the hood, nobody blinks.” Misty tells Blade that if she’s on the tape, she’ll need him to erase the system- any footage manually deleted gets backed up for a week so it can be reviewed by superior officers. “It’s right next to the evidence lock-up. Take something valuable, and they focus on the likely suspects for a robbery without much concerning themselves over their buggy new camera system having another bad night.”

Misty shows up a few minutes early and proceeds right to the review equipment. She tells Dale, from the Nighshift, that the line for coffee was short today, so he can punch out early, and she starts reviewing the dead officer’s bodycams. At first she’s elated, she isn’t on the tape and she can wave Blade off. She takes out her phone to call Blade, then she notices, as he’s killed, that the officer falls mostly into a puddle, and in the reflection of the water you can see her, clear as day. She calls him, and he assures her that he’s got a distraction that should clear all the dayshift out of the office, leaving only the nightshift remaining- and suggests she check their CO’s files while everyone is dealing with his distraction/him.

Blade’s distraction sets a building on fire, cooking off a bunch of blanks so it sounds like gunfire started the blaze. With the dawn coming, the nightshift cops are on edge about staying, start slathering themselves with sunblock (not screen, which will make the white cops whiter still) nervously, knowing something’s up. That’s why when Blade smashes through a window, they immediately turn a wall of fire on him without hesitating. He’s not 100% sure who’s a vampire and who isn’t, so he’s reluctant to completely open up against the night shift, but fights his way to evidence. He’s been carrying heavy leather saddlebags the entire time, and after he barricades himself inside the evidence room we find out why: he had a bomb designed to disperse aerosolized garlic that he left outside the room. The smarter of the vampire cops flee the building; a couple of the stupider ones catch the brunt of the garlic, and it eats at their skin like acid (nightshift cops are going to have to make it look like a flesh-eating bacteria tailored to only survive short bursts outside of its blast- which likely brings Feds down on Blade’s head). Blade swipes the drives from the body cams, and ends up leaving with 2 saddle bags of coke that they might use in the end to frame the corrupt daylight officers from the precinct.

Misty finds Blade after the raid, with the bad news: he’s all over the precincts cameras, and he is now the subject of a citywide manhunt (and only that because they’re fairly certain he hasn’t skipped town). It seems like virtually everyone at the precinct is now determined to take him dead, not alive. “It’s a whole precinct of corrupt cops; the dayshift work for the highest bidder- whatever gang or syndicate is offering the best pay. The night shift have been taken over by monsters; they cover each others backs. That’s more manpower than even you can take head on.”

If we want yet another cameo, the FBI bring in She-Hulk as a deputized fact-finder, but she punts when Blade tells her the truth. “My cousin’s a ten foot tall green rage monster that once killed a space whale with a single blow, and that still might be the craziest shit I’ve ever heard. And I want to help. But I’m a little too conspicuous for this kind of job.” “You’re the wrong color. You can’t blend in like that.” “No. But I do know a guy who is the right color to blend in in Harlem. He’s an ex. Seems like he’s everybody’s ex. But you’re going to have to go to him. He doesn’t like to leave his club. ” Blade rides his motorcycle beside Misty’s car, and the ladies talk. “Luke’s always had a… way with women, but I wonder if, maybe, that’s part of your feelings on not liking knowing you were the other woman, emotionally, counselor.” “Sound like you might know something about that yourself, detective.”

It’s Luke Cage, at (wink wink) Cottonmouth’s old club, where he’s made himself comfortable, gotten pretty good at keeping the gangs and the gangsters from warring. This is part of the reason the vampires saw an opening with the cops- they both wanted to return Harlem to the bad old days, where it was a playground for their less forgivable appetites. Misty’s bemused, since she could have taken them to Luke’s. She-Hulk shrugs. “Like I said, he’s everybody’s ex.” She leaves.

But how perfect is that? A man whose skin vampires can’t bite through. It doesn’t take much to convince Luke to enter the fray, though it may take some convincing for him to leave his posse behind; he’s been playing Godfather long enough he’s forgot how to vigilante. Maybe Blade convinces him, “You take your goons, for every one that falls, we got to kill them all over again. We go in lean, and tight, and we don’t make the problem any bigger than it already is.”

As they’re trying to figure out the best place to lure their prey (time is easy since during the day the vampires will be more vulnerable), when a cop brings a phone into the club, and hands it to Blade. It’s a hostage, someone who will up the stakes for the ending, make the heroes have to act rashly. Maybe I don’t know Blade mythology deeply enough to come up with a better person, maybe I’m just tired of merry Marvel matricide (and obviously don’t want to damsel Misty), but I’d go with Blade’s mom. See, she didn’t die giving birth to him like he was always told. Everyone thought she’d die- and that’s why they were all focused on little Blade- but she managed to survive, kept captive by an old, sewer dwelling faction of vampires (the same who eventually took over the precinct). “Mom?”

The cops have fortified the precinct, having seen how Misty and Blade entered it the first time. They put bars on the window he crashed through, bolts anywhere there hadn’t been. Misty demands to go in alone first, to make sure there aren’t any clean cops left in the building. She tries talking to a couple, but they start towards her, looming menacingly. She tries a couple more, to convince them to leave with her. “You’re not leaving,” they tell her. “That’s what he said you’d say,” she says, and pulls the fire alarm.

Cut to the basement. “That’ll start the silver in the suppressant systems, right?” “Fire starts the suppressant systems,” Blade says, “or flooding the system with so much pressure the seals all start to burst. You do the honors?” Luke takes hold of a wheel attached to some pipes, with a new junction grafted on to attach a large tank. Back inside, the sprinklers all come alive, spraying the room with water infused with silver nitrite (maybe some garlic, too). The nightshift vampires all start reacting, though the corrupt dayshift cops keep coming for Misty. She draws, and starts laying down suppressing fire, backing towards the exit. But she isn’t running; she stashed a heavy rifle by the door, and falls into a firing position as Luke and Blade crash through the wall at the other end of the building. Big old action scene, the three of them take down as many of the corrupt officers as possible; a handful flee, not all are fatally wounded. Just as they’ve nearly won, a bunch of the vamps, who smartly ran for the showers, burst in for one last wave of bad guys before the last of them takes momma Blade hostage. Luke and Blade are too far away; Misty’s got the drop on him, but no kill shot. Blade tells her to buy him a half second, and she shoots the vampire in the shoulder, knocking him away from his hostage long enough for Blade to carve him up. Blade is fast enough to catch his mother as she falls, still too weak to hold herself up without help.

Blade helps his wounded mother out and onto his motorcycle, then lights the building on fire, as Luke and Misty put together the why as they watch it catch. “A precinct that corrupt?” Misty asks. “Half full of vampires,” Blade adds. “People would lose their damn minds, if they knew what just happened,” Luke agrees. Blade concludes: “It’s better if I fight my war from the shadows. People get too close to me, they get hurt.”

Blade jumps on his bike and screams off. Luke awkwardly asks Misty if they should get coffee. “You didn’t call me,” she says, and stomps off. “Yeah,” he says, looking at a card in his hand, from the Alias Detective Agency, “it’s a bad habit I’m working on.”  We watch Blade driving way too fast for someone having to keep someone else balanced on his bike, but it looks cool, as Blade monologs to take us out, something along the lines of, “Losing my mother gave me something to kill for. Getting her back, maybe I’ll find a reason to finally live.” 

Mid-Credits Scene: An old, desiccated man with a red gem in his chest struggles to breathe. “Elsa,” he whispers. “My light is fading, my millenia of vigilance is at its zenith. You must watch the door, for the agents of the Helix and its monsters. Only a Bloodstone can stop them.”

End-Credits Scene: We see the armrest of an overly ornate chair, where a red hand with sharp fingernails rests. “Lord Mephisto, the vampire plot is foiled.” The hand tenses, the fingernails tearing into the chair, which bleeds. Close, on an evil eye, quietly smoldering. “Bring me my Ghost Rider.” [Yep, this is the beginning of a build to the Midnight Sons- though I’m not a fan of that name, maybe Nightstalkers: Moon Knight, Werewolf by Night, Brother Voodoo & Elsa Bloodstone]

Note: In light of 2020, I’d probably tweak the story just a hair to more closely address police brutality.

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12 Days of Pitchmas, Part 2: West Coast Avengers

West Coast Avengers

Note: Just saw one of the WandaVision stills which makes me think the show may be covering some of this territory… but this pitch was already written, and all I could really do was bump it up the schedule a few slots to try to get it ahead of any other reveals…

Avengers cast-offs, mostly, people who didn’t make the cut, kind of appropriating the name they don’t have any rights to. Simon Williams (played by Nathan Fillion again, even if his scenes were cut from Guardians 2) takes down Hawkeye’s portrait and heaves a heavy sigh, the rest of the West Coast Avengers portraits are hanging still, and I’m thinking there’s an alternate Quicksilver, who was a mutant in an alternate reality before ending up here. “Didn’t even last long enough to get his name added to the lease… Stark’s outfit might not have standards, but here on the West Coast, we don’t tolerate that kind of behavior.” We don’t see who he’s sparring with. “Don’t you have a sex tape, Simon?” “Yes, and I performed beautifully on it- and I didn’t resort to any rough stuff. Didn’t get my TV show out of it. That was for-” “Being a washed-up has-been of a” “redundant retort? And besides, we’ve got a perfectly servicable Hawkeye right here.” It’s Kate Bishop. “Why Simon Williams, you could charm the pants off a cat.” “Like you wouldn’t take back-end points to co-star with an animated cat…” he mutters.

I’m going to tell you now: large sections of this will be based on Tom King’s The Vision; I will spoil the crap out of it, and it’s worth reading if you dig contemplative sci fi; it also presents a challenge, since so much of the story is told through prose. But I’m a glutton for punishment, so here we go. 

It’s a dingy, dismal, rainy LA night. As Victor walks under the street lights, they flicker, with a blast of electricity shooting down from the last as he reaches his destination, bathing the storage unit in darkness. He looks flesh and blood, what of him we can see. Victor opens the unit, switching to a low-light vision mode; we see his blank, expressionless face as he performs various maintenance tasks to chambers that will resemble the one from Age of Ultron. Over this, the sound of Dr. Bruce Banner’s voice lecturing a hall breaks in. “At the time, we knew Ultron and Vision were engaged in a high stakes game of chess for the codes to the global nuclear stockpile, while we were trying to find and shut down all of his bodies. What we didn’t know until later was that Ultron was really more of a virus, leaving his malicious code everywhere he went. But Vision knew, and he did the same to his own code; turning it into a virus specifically designed to co-opt Ultron’s coding. When he was alive, Tony, he let me think he programmed Jarvis- the AI that became the Vision- to do that. I may never have known otherwise, but when he passed, he left me his notes on Vision and Ultron, even bolded the words so I couldn’t miss it. Tony was like that. Brilliant. And a dick.”

We cut back to the low-light vision as the first cradle opens, and a very Vision-like hand reaches out. “Vision was my friend, like too many, taken too soon. The things we could have learned from him, could have discovered with him.” A whole new Vision pulls himself out of his cradle. He turns to Victor, and they shake hands before saying, “Brother” each in turn. Vision then opens a second cradle, this one housing a female Vision named Virginia. Two smaller cradles sit in the corner, conspicuous but unopened as the pair embrace.

Cut to a very normal suburban home, notable only for the hovering mailbox out front. Cut inside, where Vision and Virginia are seated in front of the television, watching footage of Vision on the news, with a scrawl stating that he died five years ago. “I’m afraid you are dead, my love,” Virginia states coldly. “And yet, I function,” he says. They are both dressed a little too old-fashioned. “Are the children yet returned from school?”

Cut back to Bruce at the lecturn again. “What we found out, only later, was that Vision created himself as much as Ultron, Tony or I did. After Ultron attempted to shred his programming, he reached out into the bowels of the internet. There weren’t other AIs like him in existence, let alone ones connected to the web. But he did find a project at UCLA. Simon Williams,” the audience burst into laughter, “yes, the star of Some Kind of Wonderful, he had been in an on-set VFX accident. Doctors weren’t certain he’d ever wake up, so they were endeavoring to digitize his thoughts and personality. Vision used this code to replicate the missing pieces of himself, taking on Williams, ahem, dynamic personality.” More hoots from the audience. “Easy for a physicist to take potshots at a celebrity,” Simon says, standing up in the audience. “I see the Avengers sicced their attack dog.” “My cousin is our attack dog- and she’s a hell of a lot more reasonable than I am.” “And I take it I wouldn’t like you when you’re unreasonable.” “But for all I care, you’re infringing on the Avengers copyright.” “Your killer robot infringed on my mind, first. I think that puts us square.” “Having seen it at work, I’m surprised he could button his own cape- proving in this instance the copy is better than the original.” More laughter, and Simon storms out.

“Darn,” Vision says, looking at his phone in his quaintly suburban home. “Mr. Lee left the artwork in the office; it needs to be at the printer within the hour. I’ll have to fly in. I’ll be home as quickly as possible.” He kisses her cheek demurely, and leaves out the front, running into Vin and Viv, their children, on the porch. “Greetings, father,” they each say in turn. “Children. Our dinner conversation will be postponed while I return to the office. Perhaps you could attend to your studies while I am away.” “Yes, father,” they say in turn.

Outside the lecture hall. “I told you not to match wits with the Professor,” Hawkeye says to a dejected Wonder Man. “I thought the Hulk am dumb.” “You’re thinking of that lunkhead brother of yours. The, what’s he call himself?” “Lunkhead?” “When in Rome, and with you, lunkhead seemed appropriate.” “You’re not going to start hounding me about him, too, are you?” “Implying there was ever a point when I intended not to? The clown calls himself the Grim Reaper, but looks like a pride float drove into a knife store.” “That feels a mite homophobic.” “Only if you feel criminals and floats should wear the same gaudy attire.”

Cut back to the Vision home, where there’s a knock at the door. We see the silhouette of a reaper- I’m thinking play up the cloak aspect and a skeletal mask, rather than the one he clearly stole from Hela’s closet. Close in on Virginia, worried, and not sure how to react to being worried.

Back to the lecture hall, Hawkeye pointing her phone at Simon. “Look at that helmet. I bet he gets great AM/FM reception.” “Kidding aside, he’s unwell,” Simon says seriously.

Cut to the Vision home, the door kicked in, splinters flying through the air as the doorknob becomes a projectile. Virginia, barely contemplating it, phases through it. Viv is nearer to the door, so when he turns his weapon and fires, it’s into Viv’s stomach. He’s approaching Vin, menacingly. Slow pan in on Virginia, as we hear screams, crying, Viv repeating, “Mother, mother, mother, mother,” on a loop. We can barely make out Reaper screaming, “You took my brother” and “You’re not real,” as it’s drowned out by the other sounds.

“Seriously, he needs help,” Simon says.  “I’m sure if we report him to the fashion police he can get all the help he needs. Now come on. I’ll buy you a cheeseburger, and you can forget all about the big green man who made fun of you.” He starts to follow her, and she stops him. “What have I said? Respectful distance. The last thing I need is anyone thinking we’re together.” “But we are together.” “In that we shared a car here, and are in the same room currently. But you’re only about one Cheeseburger from paradise, if you know what I mean.” “I know Buffet- but I’m not entirely sure you know what you mean.”

Cut back to the Vision home. Vision has his sleeves rolled up, and is trying to fix his daughter to no avail. Virginia is only semicoherent, repeating words at random as she explains that she chased off the Reaper before he was able to cause their son more than a flesh wound. “Her power systems are failing,” Vision says, lifting her from the floor. “I require more energy to reboot her, before the failure becomes irreversible.” He flies into the sky, and she’s about to follow, when she glances back at Vin, grasping the flap of ‘skin’ hanging off his arm and staring at the fluids that poured out of his sister. Virginia walks over to their son, while calling Vision. “Where are you going?” “The Palo Verde nuclear facility has the largest capacity available in the area.” “She can’t handle that kind of charge.” “Correct. I intend to use myself to absorb enough of the overage to protect her systems.” “You’ll die,” Virginia says, betraying her first real hint of emotion. “Perhaps. But if I expire, it will be resuscitating our daughter. I love you, Virginia.” He hangs up. Vision bursts through a metal door into the dam, and finds a large coupling and tears it out of the wall. He strokes his daughter’s hair, and says, “I love you, Viv.” He grabs the sparky end of the coupling in one hand, and touches the other to her shoulder. For a moment they both are lit by the arcing electricity, before the power dies and the room goes black. We see the room in Vision’s low-light mode. “Damage detected” flashes in the bottom right, as he looks at his daughter, motionless. Then she sits upright, gasping.

Phone ringing, before Kate picks it up. She sees it’s Simon, and makes a face. “No, no no no and ew.” “What? Oh. The time. Sorry. It’s not… what it seems like.” “Better not be. I’m an excellent shot.” “It’s my brother. He’s been missing. Days, now.” “And you think Clint gave me a doofus-seeking arrow. Actually, he might- nope. Boxing glove, one that says ‘Long Distance Gerbil Delivery System’ with a Post-it about needing a new gerbil.” “I figured, you spent some time with him, maybe he taught you how to, I don’t know, track people.” “In the hit a moving target sense, yes. In the Sam Spade one? No.” “Normally I wouldn’t ask. Or, normally I’d ask someone else, but Quicksilver ran down a list of every single place he’s used his debit card in the last seven years.” “I’m assuming a lot of adult bookstores.” “More than you would have thought there were in the area, yeah. But, Kate, please. I’m freaking out, here. Even if it’s just moral support, keep me from making matters worse.” “I bet he had a whole quiver full of doofus-seeking arrows, but used them all up on you, didn’t he?” “That a yes?” “I’ll meet you at the least adult bookstory place you want to check first.” 

Cut to school. Vin is flexing his fingers, staring at the repaired tear. CK approaches him. “Hey, you’re, uh, Viv’s brother, right?” “Correct,” Vin says noncommittally. “I’m her lab partner, in chem. I heard you guys had like a break-in, right? Must have been intense. And she’s… okay?” “She is recuperating. My parents believe she will return to optimal operation shortly.” “Right? Cool. Um, say, I, I said we, we’re lab partners, right? Mrs. Arcuda gave her an extension, but I’d still, like, we were working together really well, and I… I’d like to be able to call her, keep up work on the project. So, could I get her phone number? You people have phones, right? Are you even listening to-” Vin seizes him by the throat, holding him in the air. “Viv believes we are not so different from humans. Example, I’m depressing a nerve sensor in the walls of your carotid artery- for all intents and purposes your off switch. It exists to prevent the heart from flooding the brain with blood; currently, it is preventing any bloodflow to your brain at all.” CK’s face is going blue, and Vin drops him into a ball on the floor.

The Visions are sitting in the principal’s office. “Frankly, were it up to me, I’d bounce your kids so hard from here they’d land on the sun.” “That seems unlikely.” “I don’t see you sending them to my school as any different from a kid bringing a gun. They’re deadly weapons.” “They are sentients, children.” “Yeah, well, the Superintendent’s kid’s got all your merchandise. And your friends brought her husband and her other kid back, after Thanos… so today, against my better judgement, you and your screwed up kids get a pass.” He grabs Vision by the wrist. “But I swear, either of those kids of yours screws up at all, and I will hold a press conference, torpedo my entire career. Because those kids are my responsibility, and I’m not going to let a pair of overprivileged toasters-” Vision phases through the principal’s grip. “I believe that the amicable portion of our discussion has ended, and suggest we cease, lest the situation prove hazardous. You have been drinking, after all, and in your elevated condition may act out unwisely.” The principal narrows his eyes, recognizing the implicit threat.

Simon and Kate meet on the street. “I thought you were coming in costume.” “No. Makes people nervous, and it kind of makes people assume I’m a sex worker- which is not the kind of attention we need if we’re keeping it low-key.” They track him down to a low-life bar, mostly supercriminals wearing their civvies, along with some Pride-associated henchmen. Simon unrolls a few hundreds for one of them to tell him his brother got agitated when the Alex Jones-alike program in the bar discussed rumors of a return of the Vision. He got hammered, then went looking for their residence. Most of them assume nothing happened, that Grim was always getting upset over this or that, throwing a tantrum, then got found sleeping it off in a park or the gutter. “Seems like all roads lead to Vision, huh?” Kate asks. Simon shrugs noncommittally.

Viv is back at school, and CK offers to walk her home. “You know, I could carry your books, if that would help.” “They are not heavy, and my repairs are complete. But a walk. I think I would like that.” They have a pleasant bonding walk, teenage romance blossoming for about as long as we can stand it before cutting.

There’s a knock at the Vision home, and Virginia tenses. She edges to it, opens, and finds a phone, with the code on a post-it note on it, and the instructions to “Play video.” She does, and we see her digging in the back yard, covering something up. The shakey phone footage moves to a different angle, where we can see the remains of the Grim Reaper that she’s burying. The phone chimes, with a text message, directing her to a house down the street. She’s halfway out the door. “Who is it, Virginia?” Vision asks. “One of the neighbors,” she says, “believe their dog has gotten loose. I told them I would help find it.” She leaves, and walks several blocks to the house.

“Come on in, Mrs. Vision.” He’s got a gun tucked into his pants. “It’s Virginia.” “Virginia. My son’s CK, the boy, the boy your son nearly strangled in the cafeteria. I wasn’t, I was over there to talk to you, when I saw what you… I didn’t mean to see what I saw. But after what your boy did, what you did. You don’t belong here. I want you and that little electric slut of a daughter-” “No,” Virginia says. “This is our home. We will not be, be threatened out of our home.” “Dad?” CK asks, coming into the room, “why are you yelling?” “You stay back, you, you metal,” as Virginia phases through the gun, he fires, hitting CK several times in the chest. “You, you killed my boy,” he says, crumpling to the ground. “No,” she says, making a fist. “Just you.” She hits him in the head and it’s a nasty impact, then to black. 

“You should have called sooner,” Mockingbird (that’s right, Adrienne Palicki- in general I’m for giving the hard-working Marvel TV folks a shot at the big leagues, personally) tells Simon. We might recognize the location from earlier, the storage where the Visions were first found. “I have access to SHIELD resources, and a rolodex, you don’t.” She steps out of the way to reveal Tigra. “Anything, Greer?” “It’s like you suspected, we’re the first people in this room in years.” “But the records on it say it’s been being paid in cash monthly, registered to one Victor Mancha.”

Cut to, as his name is mentioned, Victor, looking more normal than before, like a regular kid. “Honey, could you get that?” his mom asks from elsewhere in the house. “Shuh,” he says around a mouthful of pizza. He opens the door wide, only to be hit with electricity. His eyes roll back in his head and he falls to the floor. “Victor?”

They’ve taken him back to the storage shed. “Like I said, access to a better rolodex.” Whoever the ‘new’ Iron Man from IM4 turns out to be, they’re here, take a poke around in Victor’s head (Note: like I said, I bumped this pitch forward).

“I don’t know… what you’re asking for, it’s like, trying to use an unbroken bronco to pull a carriage full of eggs. Even if we can I don’t know if it’s wise.” “I don’t think we have any other options.” “I can try and put in some failsafes, so he can’t hurt anyone… but his core coding is an offshoot of Ultron’s.” “I need to know what happened to my brother,” Simon says, “even if it’s to know we need to hold a funeral.”

Cut to the Vision home, the back yard. Dirt flings past camera, and we pan over to a hole, the hole Virginia had dug. The neighbor dog is standing on the Reaper’s corpse, wagging his tail. He barks, then nips the Reaper’s bladed gauntlet. Pan back and away, there’s the sound of electricity and then an explosion. Inside, Vision hears it, and goes outside. We see the most emotion on his face we’ve ever seen as he sees the Reaper’s corpse, along with the neighbor’s dog.

Knock on the Vision front door. Vision opens it, and he and Victor shake hands, and say, “Brother,” in turn. “I heard,” Victor starts, “that the family was having some… difficulties adjusting.” “Difficulties may perhaps be understating the issue. Please, enter.” The home has been destroyed. “Remodeling?” Victor asks. Virginia is there, in the background, but she’s frightened, trying desperately to blend into the background. “Yes. I have read that to truly create a home, one must start from the most primordial elements. I do not understand completely; it puts me in mind of p and not p- p, problems solveable by computing, and not p, those that cannot.” “Yes, and p vs np is itself a question that may be either p or not p- unless or until an artificial intelligence can decipher an efficient test of p.”

Cut to an art museum, Vision and Victor about town. Victor: “You’ve got a really great family. But does it ever, is it hard to keep them great? Feels like that would be a lot of pressure. I guess, my mom’s human, and I’d do anything for her, but the idea of trying to keep a family like yours together… I want that, some day, what you have, but it just seems like it would be so much, you know” Vision doesn’t reply, but stares on.

Victor is walking through the snow outside, talking on the phone. “There’s something, something Vision won’t tell me, but he wants to. He’s a blank slate, but I know he knows something about your brother, Simon, and he’ll…” “Who’s Simon?” Vin asks, dropping down from the sky; he’s only just starting to become afraid. “Are you… spying on us? Who’s Simon?” he asks, sounding much more like a human boy his age. “Vin, calm down, I can explain,” Victor grabs his shoulder. “You’re here to hurt us,” Vin says, trying to break free. “Shh, if you’ll calm down, I can,” panels in Victor’s arm opens, and starts to spark with electricity. Recognizing the threat, the jewel on Vin’s head starts to glow. “Wait, Vin.” Vin is electrocuted, and his charred body falls into the snow. “Vin? Oh, God, no,” Victor says. He runs.

Inside the kitchen, Vision and Virginia are having a tense moment. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I did what I thought correct in the moment, to protect the children, and I hid it to protect you. If I could undo it, even at the sacrifice of myself-” the electrical explosion in the back catches Vision’s attention, and he phases through the wall into their backyard. His son is smoking on the ground, the snow melting where his body has touched down. He picks him up and cradles him.

“I thought you said you were programming in failsafes,” Simon barks at the Iron Man replacement. “I did. But I failed to specify sentients… I hard-coded into Victor a superceding directive to shut down rather than risk injuring a person, but… his programming didn’t consider the Visions people.” “He’s going to come for all of us,” Victor says. “I don’t want to die.” Montage as they try to set up defenses to make Simon’s mansion more defensible against Vision. Vision’s a bad ass, wading through all of the West Coast Avengers; they put up a good fight, but they’re outclassed, and one by one he puts them down.

The Iron Man replacement is the last one standing, because they’re guarding Victor. Vision shows, and IM explains they put a failsafe in Victor, that if Vision kills him, his electrokinesis will kill Vision just as it killed Vin, but implores that it doesn’t have to end with more death. Suddenly, IM is blasted from behind by Virginia, who has already phased her fist through Victor. “I explained to Viv my culpability in CK’s death. She was quite upset. Your presence has always calmed her.” “Virginia, don’t-” “I cannot lose you to my mistake,” she says, and tears out Victor’s circuits, before being engulfed in a ball of electricity.

She phases enough through it to still cling to life. Vision lifts her. “Please, take me home,” she says. Cut to the Vision living room, where Virginia sits on the couch. “Come, sit, let me lean against you. My head is heavy, and I would enjoy resting it against you.” She projects a hologram, of Vision in his superhero guise circa Age of Ultron. “A version of you was a hero who saved the world. It felt good, to save… you…” she dies, and we fade to black.

Viv is playing with a green Vision Dog, scritching his little belly. “Would you care to walk him with me?” she asks Vision. “I would,” he says, and rises. There’s a knock at the door. It’s Simon. “You… should not be here,” Vision says. “Were it just me, I might well have stayed away. But power like you have… we need you. The world will. And her. Maybe even the pooch.” He gives Vision his card with his agent’s name and number on it, and also his phone number scrawled on the back. “But while I’m here, please, whatever’s left, I’d like to be able to bury my brother.” “Burial,” Vision says, contemplative. “I do not understand the purpose.” “It’s about finding closure, about feeling like while some of your family is gone, their struggles are over. They’re at peace. I think we could all use more of that. Eric was a flawed guy, and I’ve known for a long time he had a bad end coming. I’m sorry that ending cost you so much, truly.” “We have lost much,” Vision looks back at Viv, “but we have the future to safeguard. If you require my assistance, I will provide it.”

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12 Days of Pitchmas 2019, Part 1: Nova

To make a long story short, these were written last December, rather than finish the NaNo I was working on; my assistant was having some health problems, and I didn’t realize until this week these never got published to the blog, so I’ll be putting them up on days that I’m not posting new Breed. It’s a silly project: the 12 Days of Pitchmas. For 12 Days, I pitch a ‘new’ Marvel movie. I’m staying away from any of the announced movies I know virtually any plot of (Blade right now is the only one announced I’m pitching). The names are mostly silly and punny rather than real, because we mustn’t get too grimdark with our silly productivity preventer.

Marvel Cinematic Universe Pitch: Nova

We’ll start with an easy one, one that’s had the groundwork laid, and is grounded in recent events, but is otherwise fresh and interesting. This one’s going to have shades of Flight of the Navigator and the Last Starfighter, with maybe a little bit of ET if we were led to believe the little brown squish had a full interior life.

Starts off with Thanos’ attack on the Nova Corps. to steal the Power Stone. Richard Ryder, the sole Terran inducted into the Corps., standing with John C. Reilly and Nova Prime (Glenn Close), holed up in the area where the Stone is guarded. Outside, we see the few new Nova ships failing to stop Thanos’ fleet. Reilly asks for permission from Prime to use the stone to repel the invaders, and is denied; the stone could wipe out all life on the planet if he can’t contain its power. Ryder asks for permission to deploy the new Nova Power Shell. Reilly barks that it’s still untested; he could kill all of them just as easily as the Power Stone. Thanos bursts through the doors, and Prime comes over comms, telling all Novas to activate their new weapons. Outside, we see hundreds of Nova Corpsmen launch into the sky, sheathed in yellow light, making a dent in Thanos’ ships (it’s a moment of joy- we forget for a moment we know how this story ends). Back inside, Ryder steps to Thanos and blasts him, giving him the full force of power in his suit in a blinding flash. Thanos is still standing, and backhands him through a wall, and we watch him falling until the last second, his shell flickering but failing to activate. Back inside, Reilly trades blows with Thanos, lasting several before falling. Nova Prime is last, and backs into the stone, grabbing it in her hand almost by accident. Thanos wraps his hand around hers and squeezes, shattering the bones in her hand until she drops the stone. Reilly is back, tackles Thanos through the wall, leaving Prime in the building. They fall together, with Reilly using all of his power to fly Thanos towards the ground. They impact, and Reilly lays dead on the ground, not having reserved any of his power to save himself from impact.

Ryder kneels over Reilly (Rhoman Dey), and gets a message. “Buddy, if you’re hearing this, then I’m gone. I know, you’ll want to blubber for a while, and I respect that, but I need something from you, first. Take care of my wife, and our daughter. You know I’d do the same for you- if you ever got a woman plastered enough to agree to marry you.” “Crap,” Ryder says, before launching into narration. “So that’s how I ended up stuck on this dirtball millions of miles from Earth. But how did I get here?”

A slightly younger Richard Ryder, wearing his Dairy Queen uniform, flees from one of Ego’s spores. “That’s a long story.” It sure is. So we’re going to montage this. “Weird alien shit happened.” In a dark room Ryder is interrogated by a Nova alien demanding he renounce his fealty to this Queen of Dairy and explain what happened. “The weird alien shit police- themselves also weird- picked me up for questioning. I think they questioned me too hard, because,” Ryder flops onto the floor, foaming at the mouth. “my brain fossilized for a bit. They took me back to Xandar and fixed my brain.” We see Xandar from his hospital bed as he sits up. “As an apology, they offered me an honorary title in the Nova Corps, which I refused,” (he demands to be a real Corpsmen). “I served for a few years with distinction, even got a promotion, before I made it back to Earth, to tell my mom and little brother, Sam, I was okay.” He says, “I’m going off to save the stars… kidding, I got an internship at a prestigious technical program- prestigious for Jersey, anyway.” He toussles Sam’s hair. “I also, kind of, left him something, my first helmet, as a keepsake. But I didn’t want him to have it, yet; it was for when he was old enough not to do something really stupid with it.”

Cut to Earth, where Sam is crawling through the family crawlspace, through cobwebs, before bonking his head on his brother’s old Nova helmet. “Hey, little bro, if you’ve found this, it’s because I’m in trouble. Nah, I’m screwing with you. It’s because you’re old enough I told you where I hid it. Or you’re a little clod going through my stuff, and I am so telling mom when I get home.” Sam grabs the helmet and runs out of the crawlspace. He puts it on, and we jump into his head as text displays across the visor asking for his name. “Sam Alexander” (daddy took off before he was born, so mom gave him her maiden name). The helmet scans his face, then projects an image of him in full Nova gear. “Cool,” he says. The helmet grows the suit around him, and he’s surprised and a little worried, running outdoors as he tries to get it to stop. He accidentally takes flight, scorching his mother’s front lawn.

Cut back to Ryder, walking along Xandar’s surface. The destruction wrought by Thanos’ army is near-total; he’s walking through a post-apocalyptic world. We hear his voice distorted as he tries to broadcast. “This is Nova 9176, to all points, please respond, Nova 9176.” Ryder finds a single home, relatively protected amongst the devastation. There are scorch marks in the yard, and the charred remains of the Nova who died defending the home. Ryder rushes into the home, to find Rhoman Dey’s wife and daughter, huddled inside. She’s shocked at his intrusion, but recognizes him almost immediately and embraces him. “Richard! Is Rhoman-” “I’m so sorry…” Pull back from the house, through the window in the front door, continuing to recede. We start to hear Ryder’s distress signal. “Nova 9176 to all points, May Day. Xandar has fallen. Remaining Nova forces are insufficient to effect an evacuation of the remaining populace. This is Nova- this is Richard Ryder, of Earth. Any Nova within the sound of my voice, please respond.”

We hear the last two sentences again, this time through Sam’s helmet as he’s flying through the air back on Earth. “Rich?” he asks, before the helmet automatically responds to the distress signal and launches him into space. He’s flailing as he breaks atmosphere, yammering that “I can’t survive in space, you’re going to kill me,” until he realizes, “wait, I am surviving in space. Cool. Lets go save my brother.” Sam flies off into space.

Rich leads Dey’s family towards a rally point elsewhere in the city, where other Novas would have gone to make their final stand. On the way they hear the sound of a wounded Nova, and plan to help her until they realize she’s being tortured for information by Proxima Midnight and Corvus Glaive, left behind to ensure that the Nova’s can’t rally to help fight Thanos. Richard asks for a threat assessment from his helmet; they are classed as threats that would each require a powered Nova to combat, and he does not have enough residual power to fight either, let alone both, and trying to save her would likely mean the discovery of all three of them. Ryder has the Deys hide in a nearby building, and collapses a building on Midnight, Glaive and the Nova.

Sam breaks atmosphere on Xandar, both impressed by being on an alien world and awed at the devastation. He’s not quite sure what he can do, but sends out a broadcast on all channels- one picked up by Midnight and Glaive, who Rich and the Deys are now following. They set a trap for Sam, which he nearly falls for, except it’s clearly an alien Nova and not Rich. Sam blasts the both of them frantically, buying enough space for Rich to step in. They have a reunion, and Rich splits Sam’s power between the two of them so they can fight. Rich tries to teach Sam the Nova capabilities on the job, with some hilarious and mixed results. At one point, the Novas are on the ropes, about to be killed, when Dey’s daughter starts throwing rocks, distracting them. Her mother joins suit, flinging rocks from the other side (for my money, they both should eventually join the Corps outright as Novas). The distraction is enough to get the Novas on their feet, and they’re able to detain Thanos’ henchpeople long enough for them to receive a message from Thanos about another stone located on Earth, and they depart.

The fight sapped most of their remaining power, and they’re not going to be able to make it off world as is. They are able to find and repair the Nova power source and communications arrays (damaged in Thanos’ assault), allowing them to power back up. 

End Credits scene: Sam and Rich are flying through space, with Rich in the lead. “Now what?” Sam asks from behind Rich. “Now we rally the remaining Novas, track down the Mad Titan and stop him from wiping out half of all life.” “No,” Sam says weakly, “I meant what’s happening to-” he stops as he turns to dust. 

Bonus pitch: Nova 2 takes place over 2 time periods, the five years Sam is gone during the Blip, with Rich spiraling after the loss of his brother, becoming somewhat of a drunk and derelict Nova (that he saved the Corps at the moment of its greatest vulnerability is the only reason they don’t bounce him- but I can see them attaching like a breathalyzer to his helmet so he has to hero responsibly), and his eventual reunion and redemption once Sam comes back and breaks him out of his funk. (Note: It ended up happening a little differently, but you can see the result in my pitch for Nova 2).

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Breed 3, Preview

Note: I wanted to give you an update. I haven’t gotten nearly as much headway as I wanted. Partly, I foolishly planned this rollout for the week of my birthday, not realizing my partner might have plans that would disrupt that. I also fell deep down a Subnautica hole. It’s well worth checking out, even if it is the definition of jank (at least on the X-Box); it’s a fun little underwater exploration game of surprising depth, where the point is to avoid being eaten, rather than depopulating the entire sea. As of 6 this evening, I hadn’t written anything, and have only a few chapters outlined. But I had an idea that I wanted to get down, a way to foreshadow Mira’s return in book 4, so I’m posting it as a preview. I’ll start posting for real next Monday, or I’ll delete my Subnautica save.

Preview

“Think I’ve got it,” Laren said, taking a step back from the TV. An instant later and Mira appeared, both on the tablet Laren was holding, as well as the screen.

“This is weird, I know,” Mira said. “It’s been too long. I didn’t tell Laren everything, because I didn’t want her to cut me out. I wanted to see you, at least like this. I knew if I was there… I might never be able to leave. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that…”

“Ahem,” Laren said into her fist, steadying the tablet with her other hand.

“Right. I wish I could handle this myself. But it’s delicate. It’s the kind of thing that- if Raif and the rest got caught, even on film, attacking one of these camps… if it’s kids, it’s harder to spin. You know?”

“They don’t,” Laren said, “because you’re dancing around the point.”

“Yeah. It’s hard to even say, it’s so… gutting. Like, this country’s never been perfect; I’m a black woman, so that isn’t a news flash. But this… it takes one of the most evil things we ever did and takes it a step further. At the border, they’re separating children from their parents. Kids of all ages, going into separate facilities, sometimes hundreds of miles apart. I’ve heard the administration is even trying to permanently adopt the kids out to Americans, to make the separation permanent. A shiver runs down my spine at the abject inhumanity. The story hasn’t broke yet, but it’s going to- but it won’t be enough. The bigots who back the president will continue to back him, and that soulless 40% is enough to keep the Republicans in his pocket. Nothing will happen. Unless you can make it happen. It’s… really good to see you, all of you, if only for a moment. I miss you. And I love you. And if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

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Breed Book 4, Last Parts

That was a ride. First book I’ve been posting as I was writing it in quite some time; others, often NaNos, I started posting concurrently, but got far enough ahead that I was midway through the next book when the ending went up. They were also posted by a helper, so… I at least didn’t feel the same connection to it. But enough of my gas-baggery, onto the many afterwords…

Afterword: On Policing

This has been a strange fucking story to write, and I will cop right now- no pun intended- to being an imperfect messenger for it. I’m white- perhaps apocryphally white passing according to some murmured family lore- and definitely have experienced privilege in my dealings with police. Just earlier this year, I dealt with cops in a circumstance where they showed grace, and a degree of restraint; through my own naivete I put my family in harm’s way, in a way that very well could have had deadly ramifications. It shouldn’t have, mind you. I’m not singling out those cops as the exception, as an example of good cops. They all should act that way, all the time. That the behavior isn’t the norm in all circumstances is frankly more damning than anything I could say. I’ve protested recently, and the cops around here have been polite, and indulgent. Again, this is how it should be, and not just when they’re dealing with a white guy.

When I started this, honestly, I didn’t know where it would go, not the story and not the movement. But now, three months on, I know how it should end. Because we can’t go back to the way that it was, not as a society, not without dipping our hands in buckets of the blood of innocent people of color and saying we’re content as it drips from our fingers. I don’t want that. Cops shouldn’t want that. And I get that there are inherent, systemic issues that we have to deal with. Cultural issues in the ways we train police, in the culture of policing, things that go back to the way that American policing ties in with slave patrols, and America’s original racist sins. I want, I hope, and I wish I could pray for this to be a turning point, for this to be a pivotal moment in our history books we look back on and can say we made a difference. I know we’re not going to solve racism, probably not even solve the problems where race and policing intersect. But this can be the beginning of change. Cops are Americans first. Some just need to be reminded of that. Others may need to stop being cops entirely. And that could be painful, I get that. But not nearly as fucking painful as what we have been doing, as a society, to people of color for generations. It has to stop. We have to stop it. All of us.

Afterword 2: Vote Blue

If you like functioning democracies in which votes actually count, regardless of who casts them, vote blue. If you’re a Republican who still has a soul or at least cares about people who aren’t white Christians, vote blue. If you’re not eager to die in a pandemic most countries have handled with comparative ease, don’t want leadership who refers to Nazis and bigots as “fine people” or are otherwise tired of your kids or grandkids giving you crap at Thanksgiving, vote blue.

If you like voter suppression and intimidation and outright theft, if you’re pro-bigotry and hate- wait, why did you even read this book? I’ve been poking you in the eyes for literally thousands of words now. I did not consent to being part of your sub-dom fantasy, you filthy little maggot (okay, now I’m a little into it). But stop jerking off, stop being a jerk-off, and vote fucking blue. This is it, people, the one for all of the marbles. Either we recognize that our country is on the precipice and pull back, and try to undo the untold damage to our democracy, or we tumble onto history’s ash-pile with Rome and all of the other failed democracies.

Lives depend on it. Rights depend on it. The pursuit of happiness depends on it. Vote blue, or fuck the hell off. And I mean for-fucking-ever. And this goes for you, too, mom.- maybe doubly so, since you still owe me for telling me to leave my disabled wife with no fucking support.

Afterword 3: Maybe the real one possibly, that will be published with the book

Mahmoud was supposed to die. Okay, that’s not true; Mahmoud didn’t exist. Then, when some poor kid got harassed by a bunch of ignorants at his school, he did, but he didn’t quite fit in the story, so I figured I’d kill him at the climax of the first book. Not because I was indifferent, but because I was adapting unused scripts into a novel and he wasn’t in those scripts- plus it made it hurt more, upped the toll of doing the right thing for all of them. And then I had a thought- really, a way to twist the knife- was to let everyone think he was dead, but keep him alive. And in a fucking cage. Now, this was years before we started putting children in cages; I wasn’t looking for a parallel to an unthinkable situation. No, I was just a sadist looking for ways to make some characters hurt; all authors are sadists, by the way. Our livelihood is torturing imaginary people, and finding ways to make it interesting; to be fair, we also love the characters we torture, so it’s also masochistic. Authors are monsters, in case you weren’t aware.

But something happened in the interim. Some of it was four years of soul-crushing misery, watching what I had grown up believing to be good people turn their backs on the suffering of others, usually because they weren’t the same color. My faith in humanity has been shredded these last few years; my belief that the world can be a good place, that our species is worth fighting for, have been tested.

I expected Mahmoud’s return to be an important moment in the story, but I wasn’t prepared for how it made me feel. When I freed Mahmoud, I cried. Like a baby, at times. Singular, masculine tears, at others. Schoolgirl after her first lost love tears another. But I cried for him. Not as a tribute to my own plotting or drafting, but because I’ve spent four years feeling trapped, caged. And, hopefully not getting ahead of myself here, I feel like I’ve been set free, that for the first time in a long time I feel a glimmer of hope. It started as an angry little ember, but, fanning it for sixty chapters, it’s grown as the possibility that we might actually effect change has grown.

Anyone who’s watched me for some time will know my productivity went from fairly crazy to nearly nonexistent the last few years. And maybe I don’t get to go back to the productivity I’ve enjoyed at other points in my career. But hopefully I don’t go back to the complete and utter lockdown, creatively and emotionally, that I’ve experienced off and on the last four years, either. Thank you, to everyone reading, for braving this apocalypse with me.  You are not alone in this maelstrom of madness, and we can, and will, get through it together.

Afterword 4: I promise this is the last one for now:

I’m going to keep going. If you’ve been paying attention, there’s a book 1, 2 & 4, but not a 3. I’m going to come back here in a week from Monday and start posting it, I’m thinking probably four days a week, Monday through Thursday. I’m going to use next week to make a dent on the outline, so I’m not flying by the seat of my pants as much as I did during book 4, which hopefully, in combination with a 4 day posting schedule, will mean that I don’t have the same kinds of delays I had with this book. And if I can get enough of a head start, I might even start posting more frequently again. And if that all goes smoothly, I’m still midway through an Old Ventures sequel that could really use a damn ending (and dovetails nicely with book 3, by the way).

Dedication

For George Floyd. He deserved better than to be a martyr. Collectively, we failed him, and so many others, before and since. All we can do now is try and make sure his death doesn’t become another in a long line that we didn’t give a damn about. Stay angry. Stay loud. Help America become the country it always dreamed it was; help us build the world that George Floyd and so many others deserved but were denied.

Update 4/20/21: With his murderer facing real consequences, we’ve taken a hesitant first step. But White Supremacy in this country is a wall, and it took all of us a year pulling for all we were worth to pull loose one brick. That might sound demoralizing, and today, that wall still stands. But it’s weaker today than yesterday. In time, with work, we can pull the whole damn thing down. Have courage. Have faith. We can see this through.

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Breed Book 4, Part 64: Epilogue

Sixty-Four: Epilogue

Rui leapt through the air spinning halfway around, catching the frisbee and landing with a flourish. “We want to make it interesting?” Rui asked, throwing the disc towards Ben.

“Strip frisbee?” Ben asked, catching it in one hand, then shook his head. “Somebody’s definitely ending up with a discus where they don’t want one.” He threw towards Sonya, but it was intercepted by Mahmoud.

“I’m pretty sure he was asking if you wanted to play Ultimate Frisbee, as a for old time’s sake kind of thing,” Mahmoud said.

“Yeah,” Rui agreed.

“Cause I think of most of you as family-ish,” Ben said. “I don’t think I’d want to see half of you naked if I could. I’m completely sure there are some of you I don’t want to see even half-naked.”

“Do you mean the male half?” Mahmoud asked. “The male half of the male half, if you want to get specific.”

“I guess I do. Still. I have complicated, semi-familial feelings pointed towards the others.”

“So like your cousin who you wanted so see naked but then not touch or anything.”

“No, I said she took her clothes off in front of me when we were kids, and I didn’t know any better. And I’m pretty sure I told you that in confidence.”

“Yeah,” Sonya said, receiving the frisbee, “you’ve told that story to literally all of us in confidence.”

“It does seem less confidential, the more people you tell it to,” Rox said, catching the disc on one finger. “Can I- I just want to say something.”

“Profound,” Sonya said.

“Moving,” Cris said.

“They’re just going to keep doing this, so you should just forge ahead,” Mira said, leaning her elbows on Rox’s shoulders.

“You’re right,” Rox said. “It’s really special, being back here with all of you. A part of me wasn’t sure any of us would ever make it back here- let alone all of us. And we all contributed to that, maybe none moreso than Mahmoud.”

“Thanks,” Mahmoud said. “But we can’t stay Not yet, anyway.”

“Why not?” Anita asked. “Other than the obvious, in that I’m too old to go here, and they probably aren’t going to rehire me, now that the whole mercenary/assassin cat is out of the bag.”

“I mean none of us. Because there’s something we have to do first. You found me because Linc found me, right? It’s taken me a while to piece together why, but I think I know why he tracked me down, specifically. His ability- it’s less impressive and at the same time maybe more, than appears at first blush. Winding back time sounds great- but it’s a really inefficient way to do things. It would require, well, reversing everything- including the momentum of all matter in the universe begun at the big bang-  would take double the kinetic energy of the universe, triple, probably, since you first have to push things back, then you have to get them moving in the same direction they were before again. But moving information is basically free. He was sending enough of his consciousness back into his own skull to feel like he reset time, but it was really just a memory dump, which he could transmit across fourth dimensional space back into his own head.”

“But why you?”

“Because I’m a technopath. And we all work a little differently, but I’m really good with systems analysis; and I think I’ve figured out a way to help him. Because if it were just information, he’d be dead and there’s no going back from being dead. So I think he’s had a… a stalking horse. A version of himself that’s outside, looking in. It can’t go back into his physical body like it used to and reset, hence his deterioration since. But if there’s enough of the physical information there, maybe we could use that to rebuild him. It’s solving maybe 20% of the science needed for Star Trek teleportation, or maybe 60% of the science needed for medical grade human cloning.”

“There’s a but, right?” Rox said.

“The but is that it might kill him. But not doing this is also killing him, so we really don’t have anything to lose. But that’s the other reason I pushed so hard for us to get our old lives back. We couldn’t do this on the road, or remotely. We need a stable base of operations, and ideally access to some of the best technology and the most gifted minds on the planet, all of which are here. Our only shot to do this right was staging it from here. The school, and more importantly the students, represent everything we need to bring him home, too. And especially, especially today, that means more to me than anything. So I,” he stopped, sniffling, “I need to thank you guys for bringing me home, kicking and screaming though I was, at times. And I hope you know, all of you, that it wouldn’t be home without all of you. That’s why I want your help bringing Linc home, too.”

“We’re all in, obviously, in case that wasn’t assumed.”

“That’s good,” Mahmoud said. “Because to do this, and do it quick, we’re going to break a bunch of international laws. Don’t get used to not being fugitives, is what I’m saying.”

“He’d do it for us,” Sonya said.

“He got into this because he was doing the same for us,” Rui said.

“And I look damn good on a wanted poster,” Ben added.

“Yeah,” Cris said, “you didn’t need to ask. Of course we’re all in.”

“Good,” Mahmoud said, with a glint in his eye.

That’s the end of this book. I’ll have an update tomorrow on the story I’ll start posting in about a week, as well as the dedication and afterword(s). So if you, like me, can’t get the sound of my voice out of your head, by all means, come back.

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Breed Book 4, Part 63

Sixty-Three

“That was you, wasn’t it? The last-minute call from the Oval Office?” Mikaela asked. Mahmoud looked slyly from side to side, his expression partially obscured by a hand-sewn mask covering the his nose and mouth. “You know you averted a massacre, right?”

The field sprawling between the furthest dorms and the lecture halls was dotted with Breed students, playing while trying their best to socially distance. Nearest to them were Mahmoud’s closest friends, leisurely tossing a frisbee back and forth. “All I did was what I felt was right in the moment. It’s all any of us can do.”

“Yeah,” she said, patting him on the back. “I remember the first time I met you. It was my first time in a helicopter.”

“Mine, too.”

“We were both just scared kids. I still feel like that, most days.”

“Me, too. Maybe that’s not on us, though; I think anyone who can live through what we all have been through these last few years, and regard it with jaded eyes, like yeah, I completely expected this, was totally prepared to handle this… that’s not normal. None of this has been normal. It’s a superhuman feat just to survive it this long and maintain some semblance of dignity, sanity and humanity.”

“I maintain that the superhuman feat was convincing federal troops that Drump had asked them to stop stomping in the heads of his betters- which for the record is nearly all sentient life on the planet. And securing pardons for your friends.”

“Well, if you’re saying I’m a super guy, I will demurely accept the compliment,” he said with a laugh.

“How’s it feel?” she asked. “To finally be home?”

“You have no idea.”

“No,” Mikaela said. “I can scarcely imagine what you’ve been through- what any of you have been through. Made me sick, knowing you were out there, doing things I could scarcely imagine to make the world a better place. It was worse, thinking you’d been killed, that you were all in that kind of danger.”

“Part of the reason we could be out there, though, was knowing the rest of you were here, keeping the home fires lit. It’s kind of easy to be an impulsive young freedom fighter, when you know there’s something back home worth fighting for- people who need you out on the front line.”

“Yeah,” Mikaela said with a swallow. “I think I get that better, now, having been to some of these protests. Not that they’re our first, but… I think both sides have been fighting harder this year. I think that’s because we all recognize it’s a tipping point. This is going to be a different country, in part because of the change we’re all helping bring about, right now. And the other side… they fought like hell not to change. This was their last chance to hold back the future, and they knew it.” Mikaela took a swig from her drink. “But you should go. You’re home. All of you. For the first time in way too long.”

“Years,” he said.

“So what the hell are you doing talking to me?” He latched onto her and squeezed.

“Because you’re part of what made this home to me. You and Tucker welcomed me here, when half the world wanted me thrown in a hole, and the other couldn’t stop staring at me. You helped me feel normal, in a world where that was in really short supply. So thank you. For that. For taking care of things while we were gone. For making sure it still felt like home when we got back.”

“It’s good to have you back,” Mikaela said. “Home hasn’t felt the same without you. Now go,” she said, squeezing him before taking a step back. “You’re not the only person on my dance card.”

“Ahem,” Tucker said from behind him.

“Right,” he said, and nodded. He grabbed Tucker and said, “Thanks, Tuck.” He let go, and walked hastily away.

“That was…” Tucker trailed off. “I thought I was going to have to train the hose on him. Or a spatula. He looked like he might never let you go.”

“Poor guy’s been through… a lot doesn’t really cover it.”

“No,” Tucker said, his voice haunted. “I really do try not to pry, but… it felt like he was pushing it at me, thinking hard about it, when he hugged me. Not that he wanted to freak me out, but… I think he’s still having a hard time telling people just what he went through.”

“He also said a lot of nice things, about us, before you got here.”

“Oh, he said them to me, too, just mentally. You’d be surprised, honestly, how much you can get across when you don’t have to use language to do it; we had as much of a conversation as you did, just faster.”

“Good,” Mikaela said. “You deserve to hear good things about what we’ve accomplished, too.” Mikaela stared at the group of returned runaways, throwing their frisbee. “I wanted to talk. I know we didn’t have time, yesterday. It feels so much longer ago than yesterday.”

“We’re all on pandemic time,” Tucker said. “This last year’s taken an eon. And,” he poked his tongue into his cheek while he thought about his next words, “You don’t have to worry. I didn’t get the wrong idea. And I already know you didn’t.”

Mikaela frowned. “I’m going to need you to say shit out loud, because I don’t read minds.”

“The locket,” Tucker said. “I know how it looks, that I’ve been wearing it around. And I know you… pined for me, for a long time.”

“I’m not-”

Tucker held up his hand. “It’s okay. There’s no explanation needed. I missed the hell out of you, too; I think that’s why I was such a dick to you for a while. Because you were my best friend, too. When we stopped being together, that was hard for both of us. But losing our best friends, too- I don’t think I ever really understood how profound that pain was, for either of us, until you brought it up. And I realized what I did with that pain sucked; you didn’t deserve that, and I had no right to take things out on you.”

“We thought we were going to die when I said that; I’m a little surprised it inspired this much soul-searching.”

“I know, but… that was an important moment for me. I’d never really contemplated dying in other than in a distant sense, and it became a very real, very near possibility that day. I went from being afraid to die, to having a reason to fight to live. It gave us… I’m not saying we were completely back to being friends like we had been, but it built a bridge to where we could be. You’ve always been important to me, but since then, I’ve really been able to explore that. And I don’t mean romantically. I mean you’re my best friend. Always have been, really, since we met. And even when we weren’t really talking, it was still true- we were just both cut off from it. So yes, of course, obviously I love you, just not in the same way as I used to.”

“Thank God.”

“Hurts that you’re that relieved, a little,” Tucker said with a grin that distorted his face mask.

“Yeah, well, a lot of the pain we’ve been through the last few years was entirely because one of us wanted to move on while the other was stuck. Not even so you’d know how I felt would I wish that on you.”

“Besides- you already know I know how you felt,” Tucker said.

“That, too. But mostly… I don’t want to lose you again. We’ve been through that once, and it sucked worse than anything else I’ve been through- personally, I mean. So of course I love you, too, but I don’t ever want to be in a relationship with you again. God. I think I’m still a little traumatized from it.”

“Feel better? Now that we’re both on the same page, and it’s all out in the open?”

“Mostly,” Mikaela sighed. “It’s still kind of strange. Basically my entire emotionally mature life has had us as this huge, sometimes great sometimes awful fixture.”

“Always will be,” Tucker said. “Our relationship was really formative for both of us. I love who we are, now, but we wouldn’t be the awesome people we are today without that, including the pain and the crappy stuff. And I’m not trying to justify your anguish, or white-wash it, but I feel really lucky to be here with you right now, like this, and I know how fragile life can be. It wasn’t a given that we’d mend things, especially not with me passive-aggressively attacking you because I was hurting. I got really, really lucky,” he said, and rested his head on her shoulder.

“Get a room you two,” Iago said, sitting in the grass beside his brother.

“You didn’t think that through, did you?” Drake asked, sitting with his legs crossed.

“No,” he admitted, “and ew.”

“Does he ever, though?” Demi asked, dropping to one knee opposite Drake.

“Never intentionally,” Mayumi said, laying on her stomach.

“I’ve missed this,” Iago said. “All of us together, just relaxing, breathing for a moment in the sun… while all of you gang up on me.”

“You know we pick on people in direct correlation to how much we care about them,” Tucker said.

“Really?” he asked.

“No. You’re just a really easy mark. We do love you, though. In direct proportion to how simple you can be. So we really, really love you.”

“I wished I was adopted. To another family. On a different continent.”

“I think you’d have found us anyway,” Mikaela said. “You’re part of what makes this home for all of us. I don’t think there’s a world out there where we don’t all find one another.”

“In a different universe,” he added.

“About that,” Mikaela said, biting her lip.

“One cutoff from any interdimensional/extra-universal travel.”

“Uh oh,” Drake said. “He’s getting science fictional. We might have really hurt him this time.”

Iago sighed. “Nah. I can’t imagine being happy with any other group of knobs like I am here.”

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Breed Book 4, Part 62

Sixty-Two

“It’s off, for the moment,” Ryan said with a gasp, collapsing back in his wheelchair. “And not a second too soon.”

“Oh?” Mikaela asked.

“Yeah. Because we just intercepted a message from the Attorney General. He was instructing Stacey to start using live rounds.”

“Jesus,” Tucker whispered.

“We stopped it over the phone, and over their radios. We’re playing whack-a-mole with their digital signals, but the message will get through; it’s really only a matter of time before we miss one channel. Then we’ll be back at an invading federal army willing to use kids and their parents for live-fire target practice. Then it’s kill or be killed, fucked as that sounds.”

“And what did you mean by, ‘for the moment?’” Tucker asked.

“Yeah. This device is more sophisticated than the one that they used at the campus. For one, it’s hard-wired into the power-grid, so without taking that down or disconnecting it, it’s going to have continuous power. Two, it’s not supposed to turn off electronically, so it will keep trying to fire itself back up until the physical keys used to turn it on are all inserted and turned- it’s similar to the old nuclear setup.”

“How long can you buy us?”

“Best-case scenario, taking turns tag-teaming it? Hours. But if the feds start encroaching, or worse, shooting, all bets really are off. I meant what I said, it’s kill or be killed, and I’m not sure they’ll let us leave even if we try to.”

“What can we do?”

“I don’t think we have a lot of options,” Mikaela said. “But I’m not going to let them turn us into the monsters they say we are; I won’t let them make us murderers.”

“You sound like you’ve got an idea.”

“Not a great one,” Mikaela said. “Same one as before, really. I pull out as many dupes as I can, and we get everyone behind me. I can buy time. They’ll get their body count, and maybe America will finally stop letting them treat us like-”

“Puerto Ricans.”

“I was going to say second-class citizens, but I guess that’s kind of a crowded field right now in this country.”

“I’m not sure how to feel about you creating a huge pile of dead Mikaelas,” Tucker said. “No; that’s not true. I don’t like it. But I don’t know if I could handle it if you were one of them.”

Mikaela cupped his cheek. “I am one of them- and they’re a lot of me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. But right now we don’t get to have a tearful maybe-goodbye. Because I need to concentrate on timing this right; and you need to coordinate everyone to get back, and start filing away. We may only get the one shot at this. And I don’t-”

“Wait,” Ryan said, holding up his hand. The federal agents, to a man, stopped what they were doing. They set their weapons at their feet, turned, and left. The sole exception was Stacey, who paused a moment, speaking into his phone, before setting down his sidearm and walking away. 

“What happened?” Mikaela asked.

“Play it back for me,” Tucker said, “and I’ll broadcast it to our people. Give me a sec.” “This is Tucker,” Mikaela felt the thought, a warm sensation in the back of her head. “The feds were just given an order to stand down. It came directly from the Oval Office.”

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Breed Book 4, Part 61

Sixty-One

“Looks like you’ve lost your tanks,” Rox said, as the two remaining tanks opened and their crews crawled out, “and since the helicopter’s down I’m going to assume Oleg’s out, too.”

Raif rolled forward, knocking Rox flat on her back, and standing, drawing a holdout pistol from an ankle holster. “You aren’t winning; you understand that, right? All you’ve done is make us look weak. We look like the world’s crappiest tin-pot can push us around, get away with it, and then have us scurry over one another to lick his boots. You’re guaranteeing that he isn’t the last bigot to try something like this. All you’re doing is sending your own people to the gas chamber.”

“My own people?” Rox asked incredulously. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Because you’re sure as hell no one I’m laying claim to. I have wasted my youth trying to blunt the damage of extremist monsters like you. My friends have sweat, and bled, and nearly died to keep you from making life harder for people like us. You are the opposite of our people- and maybe you don’t understand this, but you’re worse than people like Drump- because you enable them to do what they want to us. You make the mild, moderate middle so terrified of us they cheer when he puts Breed kids in camps. But I agree. We haven’t won anything. But maybe, we lost less than we were going to, and I think that’s the best outcome that was on the table, thanks to people like you.”

“I have you dead to rights. And I’ve been working on something, though I don’t honestly know if it will work. I’ve always been able to strengthen other Breed abilities. I spent some time, working with Mira, and I think I figured out how to do the opposite, how to dial them back. I don’t want to kill you. But I will shoot you; I’m betting man enough to try it, if you don’t let me through.”

“You’d never make it. There’s an all but literal army between you and Drump.”

“That’s the difference between us; I was a soldier, and I will complete my mission, even if I have to lay down my life. But you want to try your luck, I can live with giving you a bullet.”

“Something men like you don’t ever seem to understand is there are kinds of luck you make yourself,” Rox said, and on instinct his finger began to curl around the trigger.

He heard the snap of a twig behind him and started to turn. A hand caught his arm just below shoulder, then another grabbed his forearm just below the elbow and twisted. He cried out in pain, and the next moment was lying on the ground, his arm twisted in an unnatural direction. “You broke my fucking arm.”

“And I’ll break the other if you don’t stand down,” Mira said.

“Oh, Mira,” he whimpered, “never could remember to keep your eye on the prize.” He rolled, firing from the hip.

The bullet struck her between the eyes, knocking her off her feet. Raif took off towards the White House as Rox ran to her, and rolled her over. She looked pristine, save for a bleeding hole in her forehead. “Goddamnit,” Rox yelled, pounding her fists into Mira’s limp torso.

“Ow,” Mira moaned. She touched her finger to the wound in her forehead. “Damnit, I bet that leaves a mark.” With the blood smeared away, the wound was visible as a small gash.

“I thought,” Rox said, having to stop to take in a jagged breath. “I know,” she said with a smile. “But right now I’ve got a bullet’s worth of kinetic energy to give back to that son of a bitch.” She leapt to her feet, taking increasingly longer steps as she gained speed far past regular human top speed, closing the distance with Raif in no time at all. At the last instant she leaned her shoulder forward, carrying all of her remaining momentum into him through it. He flew a dozen feet, landing face first in the grass, plowing a trench with his mouth. “You stay on the ground this time,” she said, “or this time I’ll put you under it.”

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Breed Book 4, Part 60

Sixty

“What’s the plan?” Demi asked, as a police baton bounced painfully off her skin. “Tuck?” she glanced back, and realized Mikaela and Tucker were gone. “Mai?” she asked, turning back towards the fed line.

“The plan is crumbling,” Mayumi said, holding both hands over her eye, but she couldn’t hold it tight enough to keep blood from seeping out between her fingers.

“You can’t heal that?” Demi asked.

“No. Like before, as the school, when that militia took over. You can’t feel it?”

Demi held up her hand, and electricity arced between her fingers. “I didn’t feel it,” Demi said, “not then or now.”

“That’s curious,” Mayumi said, “but it’s also a mystery for another time. This is going badly. We’re being routed. Either we change the dynamics, or people are going to die.”

“I could change them,” Demi said. “I could electrocute them ten at a time, relatively safely- you know, as safely as you can electrocute someone.”

“I somehow think killing a few feds will make things worse.”

“You two look like you could use some help,” Laren said, touching Demi’s shoulder.

“See,” Drake said, “I told you it wasn’t just me. Everyone’s abilities are off again.”

“I know,” Iago said, “I’ve just been sitting on that erectile dysfunction joke since the last time it happened.”

“I think there’s a joke in there about you sitting on something erectile- but I’m too preoccupied to figure it out.”

“You guys,” Demi said, scooping Drake up.

“That your phone in your pocket, or you just happy to see me?” Drake asked.

“I’m too much of a classy lady to tell you to push my buttons and find out,” she said, putting him down.

“We figured you needed an army,” Laren said, motioning to a whole new group of protestors filing out of buses. “Turns out Drump’s been recruiting and radicalizing one for you for years.”

“So these were the refugees they broke out of Gitmo. I thought we just smuggled them out of his grasp…” Demi said.

“We needed to buy a little time. We got them student visas, and have them set up as official students at your newly expanded school; it’s going to function as an academy with on-site housing, and courses for students from kindergarten through whatever college courses it offers- with talks about expanding into doctorate programs.”

“That’s… that’s huge.”

“They’re the future. It’s our job- the closest we have to a sacred duty- to safeguard them. I’m just pissed off at how long it took for enough people to stand up to get it done. You three,” she pointed to Drake, Iago and Mayumi, “coordinate, we need to reinforce the line and push them back.” She held back while they walked towards the gathered refugees. “Saw your zapper’s still zapping,” Laren said discreetly to Demi. “I think we can use that. The feds are using earpieces. That means power supplies. If you can fry those remotely, they stop being a unified occupying force, and become a bunch of lonely fascists alone in a sea of people- fascists we can isolate and contain.”

“That’s… an idea,” Demi said. “Might result in some burns.”

“Anything this side of fatal seems more than warranted, under the circumstances.” A fed tried to hit Laren with a baton, and she rammed her shoulder into his chest, then rolled him over her back, stripping him of his radio and the baton at the same time. She handed the radio to Demi, who keyed the radio and raised it toward the sky. Lightning fell from the clouds, passing through the radio, and into her hand.

The sound and feedback traveled through the radios, causing officers to tear their earpieces out, some screaming. Several radios burst into flames and had to be removed.

“That’s our opening,” Laren yelled, shoving forward. She was immediately flanked by Iago, Drake and Mayumi, with a line of refugees stepping in front of the beaten protestors.

Stacey raised a sidearm at Laren. “Not one more goddamned step!” he yelled.

Demi grabbed his arm at the wrist, and pushed the gun into the air. “Drop it,” she said, “or I roast all the skin off that hand.”

“Bull-” she sent a jolt of electricity into his arm, and his finger squeezed around the trigger.