Yakeline era, incluso cuando era un bebé yak, una soñadora. Se imaginó a sí misma en lo alto del cielo, y no sólo en una montaña. Los pájaros que pasaban volando siempre le llamaban la atención, deseaba estar entre ellos. Su rebaño tuvo menos pensamientos colectivos a lo largo de su vida de los que Yakeline experimentó momento a momento.

Yakeline se sentía sola en su manada. Su madre estaba más interesada en pastar que en socializar. La única conexión que realmente sintió fue la de Yakary. Él era sólo un poco mayor que ella y ella lo encontraba muy guapo. Crecieron juntos en la manada, siempre jugaban juntos y dormían cerca. Aun así, él no era como ella y ella lo sabía.

Siempre la más rápida de su manada, Yakeline avergonzaba a Yakary cuando competían. También tenía un control increíble de su enorme cuerpo, capaz de detenerse a toda velocidad casi al instante. Su madre no era nada de eso, así que supuso que era de su padre a quien nunca conoció.

Gran parte de la vida de la manada fue pacífica y sólo estuvo amenazada por la expansión de la construcción humana. Una noche, Yakeline tuvo la sensación de que la paz terminaría pronto, como si sintiera que se acercaban enemigos.

Los problemas descendieron en forma de reptiles voraces. Miles de pequeños caimanes invadieron el territorio de la manada. Correr fue la primera opción instintiva, pero descubrieron que los caimanes aseguraban el perímetro. Yakeline vio cómo Yakary era destrozada y su madre estaba cerca, sin ser lo suficientemente inteligente como para huir.

Yakeline concentró toda su energía para acelerar y embestir a los caimanes. Su madre se apartó del camino justo a tiempo. Los caimanes fueron destripados y las entrañas volaron por todas partes. Detrás de Yakeline había un rastro de hierba arrancada. No podía entender cómo el correr causó esto, o cómo los caimanes fueron destrozados.

Un mordisco interrumpió los pensamientos de Yakeline. Los caimanes la habían atacado, como una amenaza obvia. Por suerte para ella, su ataque no estuvo coordinado, como si les faltara un líder. Algunos de los caimanes más pequeños estaban sobre su espalda y un par de más grandes mordisqueaban sus piernas.

Yakeline escuchó girar y sintió que su cuerpo vibraba rápidamente. Cerró los ojos y soportó la extraña sensación.

Cuando abrió los ojos, miles de caimanes estaban muertos. También lo eran los yaks. Todo su rebaño fue mutilado. ¿Qué había hecho ella? Yakeline no podía entender. Lloró fuerte, confundida, enojada y más sola que nunca.

En ese momento, escuchó un silbido en lo alto.

"Quedarse quieto." —ordenó una voz por un altavoz. La voz respondió a una persona desconocida: “Sí, finalmente la encontramos”.

Desde arriba, Yakeline vio un helicóptero sobrevolando, buscando un lugar para aterrizar. Se instaló directamente encima de los cadáveres de la manada. Yakeline se sintió enferma.

Un hombre trajeado salió del helicóptero y se acercó a Yakeline.

“Te hemos estado buscando. Pensamos que algún día empezarías a notarlo.

Ella no sabía de qué estaba hablando ni por qué lo entendía.

"Te ves confundida." afirmó el hombre. “¿Pensabas que eras sólo un yak? ¿Con ese sistema de dirección? ¿Con ese radar y esa potencia informática? ¿Con esas torretas y esas palas del rotor?

El hombre se rió entre dientes y se paró junto a Yakeline. "Es gracioso. Supongo que eso tiene sentido. Quiero decir que pasaste toda tu vida con estas criaturas. Y tú eres, literalmente, medio yak”.

“¿Medio yak?” Pensó Yakeline, deseando que hubiera alguna forma de poder oír.

“Apuesto a que ahora mismo estás pensando: '¿medio yak?'. Bueno, señora, me gustaría que conociera a su padre”. el hombre señaló hacia adelante. Yakeline miró fijamente a través del fuselaje del helicóptero durante unos buenos segundos. El hombre caminó hacia la puerta, la cerró de golpe y luego extendió los brazos para presentarle a su padre. "Saluda a papá AH-217".

Yakeline resistió durante unos minutos, dejando que las palabras del hombre pasaran sin ser escuchadas. Luego cedió, sabiendo que era verdad.

“Eres más que un yak. Tú lo sabes. Ahora únete a nosotros. Únase a nosotros en la lucha contra los malvados. Te necesitamos de nuestro lado”. La invitación del hombre empezó a sonar como una amenaza si ella no estaba de acuerdo.

Yakeline miró a su alrededor y vio que su rebaño no era más que un cementerio. Se despidió de su madre y comenzó a concentrar su energía nuevamente.

"Eso es todo, bebé." dijo el hombre, subiendo al AH-217 y esperando a Yakeline en el cielo.

Las palas del rotor se extendieron desde su espalda y las ametralladoras salieron de sus costados. Yakeline no olvidaría de dónde venía. Ella buscaría al líder reptil que causó el ataque y honraría a sus padres mientras lo hacía. Yakeline patrullaba los cielos como un helicóptero A-Yak.

Alan Gopogo stood in line outside the convention center, eyeing all the sights behind the ticket booth. For many years, his parents refused to let him go, but with him meeting up with his new friends Charlie Cakes and Sammy Pringlepop, they felt more comfortable. There was not a single event, celebrity, or artist that he was there to see… he wanted to see them all.

He was next in line when he received a text message from Sammy: “We’re inside, meet you at at the entrance!”. Alan went to respond to the message when the ticket checker grew impatient.

“Next.” she said loudly. Alan put his phone away quickly and smiled at her.

“Just one for the day.” He announced excitedly, holding out cash. She rolled her eyes, took the money and gave him a ticket and a wristband.

“Enjoy.” she said enthusiastically, waving him by.

Alan stepped into the room, amazement washing over him. He didn’t know where to look. Everything was so enticing, two floors of merchant tables and celebrity booths around them, signs for events throughout the day. He looked at all the cosplayers and took mental notes for outfits for the following year, as he was forced to dress in a matching 3-man costume with Charlie and Sammy.

They all agreed to dress as Build-Up, an obscure, cartoon superhero. Alan was designated to dress as one of the pieces, Breakdown, Sammy as Smackdown, and Charlie as Crackdown. Alan was a little disappointed with Breakdown, as it was the worst of the three, needing the other two to connect with it before it made any sense. He basically just looked like the butt of a large stone robot.

All would be fine soon, however. Alan texted Sammy back and asked where they were, knowing he’d easily spot them if they were still near the entrance. Sammy replied: “We’re in line for Shy Monster’s autograph.”

Alan texted back: “NO WAY.” and began to run through to the celebrity area. Even new friends, Charlie and Sammy knew how much Alan loved Shy Monster as a child. He scoured the booths looking for the tiny creature of movie fame.

Minutes went by and Alan corresponded spottily with his friends to no avail. Finally, he found himself near the bathrooms of the convention center. Through one of the sheets draped on the back of a booth, he saw a pointy red spike headed to the bathroom. He recognized it instantly, though obscured through the fabric. Alan ran around the row and towards the bathroom. He couldn’t believe he was about to meet the real Shy Monster. People laughed at him, seeing his ridiculous outfit. He was too excited to be truly humiliated.

Alan opened the door and saw nobody in the bathroom. Beside the sink, he saw the red spike, but it was just a hat. Though feeling foolish that he mistook it for his childhood idol, he figured he should make the most of the moment. He placed the hat on his head to see how it looked. 

The bathroom melted away, and Alan was staring directly into the universe. He was filled with knowledge beyond what he’d ever learned. Every object that operated anywhere was giving him information. It was difficult to focus with all the noise. Confusion trapped his mind for eons as he strove for clarity. He had forgotten everything from his past, all that he had left was a quest for silence.

Out of nowhere, the bathroom reappeared. The hat on his head was knocked off by someone’s large, pointy costume. It was a shy monster costume.

Alan slowly regrouped, hazy about what he’d experienced. He asked the man at the urinal, “Where is Shy Monster? I really wanted an autograph.”

“He didn’t come this year, sorry bud.” the man chuckled at Alan’s costume before leaving the bathroom.

Alan knew instantly that he’d been played. He texted Sammy: “You guys aren’t here, are you?”

Sammy responded, “No, you little nerd, of course we’re not.”

Alan took a deep, sad breath. He walked to the exit of the convention center, feeling like more of a loser, more isolated than ever before.

Outside the doors, Sammy and Charlie stood with another classmate named Brenden Buttersnatch. They took pictures of Alan’s costume and posted them online.

“Look at this loser! What even is that costume?” Their laughter was cruel and Alan felt instead of sadness… rage.

They got in their car and drove away laughing. Alan took off his costume and left it on the ground. Then he walked beside the convention center, where nobody else was. He placed the hat on his head, and this time, he had full control. His human brian took charge of his new, astral form. 

The bullies’ car vanished, and the three boys were lifted and placed in the center of the convention. Alan thought of the perfect punishment, where nobody would get hurt. He thought the boys should follow through with their obligations. Sammy was transformed into Smackdown, Charlie into Crackdown and with Alan out of the picture, Brenden would be the perfect Breakdown. 

The boys were then forced to join, becoming Build-Up. The crowd gathering around thought it was an event, so they applauded, or walked by without a glance.

Alan wasn’t finished. The convention needed some love. He added a main booth, with shirts displaying his own astral form. Afterwards, he gave everyone similar merchandise, bears and red cone hats to wear and put them in a line at his booth. They all assumed it was part of the con and that this was a main event.

When Alan was done, he returned to human form and bought a shirt for himself. Walking around the convention, though everyone was slightly confused and wearing his merch, many people complimented his new shirt. He felt famous, like a celebrity in disguise, not one person having any idea that he was the real Astro Gnome.

Sheila arrojó todas las camisetas de Bud por la ventana del tercer piso. Se quedó afuera mirando hacia arriba, con una camisa cubriendo la mitad de su cabeza.

“¿Estás molesto?” Bud gritó hacia la ventana.

“Tómalo, Bud. No quiero volver a verte." Sheila respondió, secándose las lágrimas de la cara.

“No respondiste mi pregunta…”

Bud recogió sus camisas y se alejó. Durante los trece años que estuvieron juntos, no fue la primera vez que lo atrapó en el tarro de miel con sus propias manos, pero sería la última. Esa era su miel. Ella no podría permitir eso.

Cubierto de oro pegajoso, Bud fue al lugar más cercano para limpiarse. Su hermano Benson estaba, como siempre, en el sótano de sus padres, calle arriba.

"Hola Benson... Sheila me echó para siempre". Bud dejó caer su gran bola de ropa al suelo.

“Vaya hombre. Eso es…” Benson cerró los ojos pensando profundamente, buscando las palabras adecuadas para decirle a su hermano en su momento de necesidad. ¿Sería él quien animaría a Bud y le ayudaría a recuperarse? Consideró darle consejos útiles para guiar a Bud hacia una vida feliz con o sin Sheila. Su hermano lo miró, esperando que se cumpliera su sentencia. Benson abrió un ojo y miró, pero fingió no hacerlo cuando Bud se dio cuenta. Volvió a preguntarse cómo proceder. Empezó a darse cuenta de que él nunca había tenido una relación. Fue difícil encontrar pareja en el sótano. Volviendo a la frase, pensó, ya se había demorado bastante. Luego pensó en la naturaleza de las palabras y la ambigüedad. Tenía que ser lo más claro posible para que Bud no se hiciera una idea equivocada. Estaba listo. Benson llegó a la conclusión perfecta de su frase después de mucha deliberación. "...malo."

Bud estaba frustrado pero agradeció las amables palabras de su hermano. Caminó por el sótano pensando profundamente. ¿Todas las veces que compartió su propia miel con Sheila y ahora ella no hará lo mismo? Se puso furioso. Se dio cuenta de que ahora estaba en el mercado del amor. Enfurecido, el viejo saco de boxeo que colgaba del techo recibió un gancho de derecha. BAM. Voló por la habitación.

Benson apartó la vista del televisor y miró a su hermano con toda la intriga que pudo reunir. Bud no sólo había de alguna manera lanzado el saco de boxeo a través de la habitación con sus propias manos, sino que también estaba levitando y brillando. Le tomó unos momentos concentrarse y volver a la normalidad.

"Oye, haz eso de nuevo, hermano". —preguntó Benson.

Con facilidad, Bud lo hizo de nuevo. “Eres flotante….. y…. resplandeciente.” -exclamó Benson-.

Sheila abrió la puerta y se apoyó en el marco. De alguna manera ignoró por completo el brillo y la flotación.

“Vuelve, Bud… exageré”.

"Oye, Bud, mira, soy Sheila". Benson informó a su hermano.

"¿En realidad?" Bud respondió a Sheila.

"En serio... ¿qué dices?"

"Yo digo, vámonos a casa".

Al pronunciar esas palabras, el brillo de Bud se desvaneció y cayó al suelo. Estaba claro lo que había que hacer. Retrocedió y se sentó en el sofá junto a Benson.

"¿No vienes?" -cuestionó Sheila, mientras la confusión se extendía por su rostro.

“No”. -respondió Bud-.

Su negativa le devolvió el brillo y el sofá flotó. Benson ya estaba dormido en ese momento. Sheila se fue enfadada y Bud supo quién tenía que ser para mantener su poder. Estaría en el mercado del amor indefinidamente, ya que ahora era Bachelor Bear.

"Hola B." Sonrió el vecino, Shaun Telman, colocando productos horneados en el mostrador. Su cachorro, Dash, se acercó a la anciana para pedirle atención.

“Hola, Shaun. ¿Cómo estuvo tu semana? estaba emocionada de escuchar sobre su tiempo en la escuela, ya que tenía pocos otros estímulos en su etapa de la vida.

"Nada mal."

"¡Oh, tienes que darme más que eso!" ella rió.

“Está bien…” se sometió a su petición, “...Fiona le dijo a uno de nuestros compañeros de clase que yo era un hombre de minutos. Ni siquiera sabía lo que eso significaba, pero entonces...

"Espera ahí mismo". Shaun fue interrumpido abruptamente. “¿Qué pasó con el resto de los pasteles?”

"Lo siento, les tiré algunos a esos patitos junto al estanque". él admitió.

“Sabes que vivo de esto. Tendrás que traerme un poco más mañana”.

"¡Servirá!" Shaun estuvo de acuerdo, terminó su historia y caminó a casa con Dash.

Bianca Stubbins se quedó sola, como siempre, cuando su vecina se fue. No era el silencio lo que la molestaba ni la soledad misma. Más que nada, estaba aburrida. Sin familia propia y sin verdaderos amigos aparte de Shaun, sentía que estaba esperando su fin. Aparte de sus historias, lo único que le excitaba eran los pasteles.

Desde pequeña, Bianca tenía afinidad por los productos horneados. No recordaba cuándo comenzó su enamoramiento por la repostería, pero a menudo recordaba un momento de su vida en el que las cosas podrían haber tomado otro camino. Sintió que tal vez si hubiera elegido de otra manera y hubiera asumido un riesgo, al final sería más feliz. Al estar tan cerca del final, ese momento se había convertido en una fijación.

Antes de acostarse a dormir, a menudo se imaginaba eligiendo algo diferente, esperando soñar con el resultado y al despertar encontrarlo como una realidad.

Salió el sol y Bianca estaba en la misma vieja realidad. Luchó por levantarse de la cama y lentamente se acercó a su silla en la sala de estar, asegurándose de abrir la puerta en el camino para que Shaun pudiera entrar más tarde ese día.

Fue justo antes de la llegada de Shaun que el corazón de Bianca comenzó a fallar. Se sentó en su silla, agarrándose el pecho y jadeando. Shaun abrió la puerta y corrió con Dash, dándose cuenta de lo que estaba pasando.

"¡B!" gritó, temeroso de perder a su amigo.

“Shaun, no te preocupes por mí. Quiero que escuches estas palabras... Bianca recogió todo el aire que pudo. "Sé lo suficientemente valiente para tomar la decisión difícil".

Bianca observó cómo el rostro de Shaun se congelaba en reacción a sus palabras, pero más que eso. Dash se congeló, el mundo se congeló y todo se oscureció. Ella pensó que esto era todo. Entonces, la imagen de un crustáceo, un reloj de arena y un reloj volaron por su mente.

De repente, Bianca estaba de pie… y joven.

Por una fracción de segundo reconoció que aquel era el momento que deseaba volver a visitar. Sus recuerdos de su vida pasada ese momento se desvanecieron rápidamente. Todo lo que quedó en su mente fueron sus palabras a Shaun.

Bianca caminó delante de su padre en el paso de peatones y ante ella flotaba un demonio hecho de dulce. Un demonio crema. Creamón.

Tenía extendido un tentáculo azucarado y escuchó una voz en su cabeza.

"Si tomas este poder, nunca volverás a verlo". Señaló a su padre, que estaba distraído por otros padres.

Bianca tomó su decisión con lágrimas en los ojos.

Se quedó un rato observando cómo el pánico se apoderaba del rostro de su padre, mirándolo interrogar a todos los que estaban cerca, mirándolo derrumbarse por su pérdida. "¿Dónde está mi niña?" Sollozó mientras hablaba con la policía y Bianca, tristemente, siguió a Creamon a otro reino.

Siguieron tortuosos años de dominio antes de que ella tuviera el control total de su poder y pudiera regresar a su propio reino.

Al regresar, compró una panadería cerrada para operar.

"Solo cuida al gato". preguntó el antiguo dueño.

Cerró la puerta detrás de ella y concentró su energía en llenar la tienda vacía con pasteles.

Durante el horario comercial, Bianca Stubbins atendía el mostrador y atendía a sus invitados, pero después del horario laboral, BakeSale gradualmente hacía que el mundo fuera un poco más dulce.

"¡Maldición!" Blake Baxter, de 29 años, animó al capitán menor de edad del yate de sus padres.

Su hermano menor, Brett, de 16 años, se había bebido otra botella de cerveza alemana en cuestión de segundos.

“Cuidado hermano, a este paso te vas a ahogar antes de que regresemos al muelle”. Blake se rió.

"Soy un gran nadador". Brett farfulló su respuesta y ambos se rieron entre dientes mientras la fiesta rugía.

Debajo de la cubierta, Blake entretenía a herederos de alto estatus e íconos de la cultura pop, mientras Brett manejaba el gobierno del barco.

A las dos horas de zarpar, los magnates madereros Brenda y Bill Baxter denunciarían la desaparición del yate, quienes estaban casi desquiciados con sus hijos de mal comportamiento. El capitán inexperto y poco calificado habría hecho bien en prestar atención a la media advertencia de su hermano. Se dio cuenta de esto cuando un eructo se convirtió en mucho, mucho más. Encorvado, su mano aterrizó en el panel táctil del gobierno avanzado del yate. El barco inmediatamente giró a la derecha y se estrelló contra el malecón al que estaban demasiado cerca. En medio de un incendio, se hundió con todos los pasajeros menos uno dentro.

Pasaron tres semanas antes de que Blake Baxter despertara.

En la orilla de un río, Blake estaba rodeado por una colonia de castores, todos mirándolo fijamente. Levantó la cabeza y miró a su alrededor, sin ver nada más que bichos peludos.

Pasaron tres semanas más antes de que Blake Baxter despertara.

Los árboles se balanceaban constantemente fuera de la vista de Blake cuando abrió los ojos. Estaba en movimiento. ¿Fue todo un sueño? ¿Había imaginado el choque y los castores? Estaba claro que no se trataba de un yate. Blake se acostó sobre la cola de un castor mucho más grande que cualquier humano que hubiera visto jamás. Pero entonces se acordó de Shaq.

Pasaron tres semanas más antes de que Blake Baxter despertara.

"Maldición." Baxter exclamó al darse cuenta de que desmayarse no remediaría su situación. En lo profundo del bosque, dentro de una cueva de ramitas, el enorme castor que lo llevaba se acercó a Blake.

"¿Por qué estoy aquí?" Blake cuestionó a la bestia.

El castor miró fijamente y luego salió de la cueva. Blake sabía que esto significaba que debía seguirlo, aunque el castor no quería decir nada con ello.

Lo llevaron lejos de la cueva, donde el castor gigante bebía del río. Blake notó que el agua tenía un extraño color amarillo turbio. Era obvio que la escorrentía química había provocado el crecimiento de este castor. El castor volvió a mirar fijamente a Blake. Blake interpretó que esto significaba que él también tendría que beber del río.

El castor se preguntó por qué Blake seguía allí.

Blake Baxter fue a beber un poco de agua junto al castor gigante, que se volvió territorial. Cuando Blake se arrodilló y tomó un sorbo de sus manos, recibió un mordisco en la espalda. Su columna estaba partida como una ramita.

Pasaron tres semanas antes de que Blake Baxter despertara.

Blake se levantó de un lecho de ramitas, no con las piernas, sino con una cola nueva y gruesa. Se sintió poderoso, golpeó su nuevo apéndice contra el suelo dos veces y desmoronó la cueva de ramitas con la fuerza.

Blake cogió un pez cercano abandonado por la colonia de castores y lo desgarró con enormes dedos parecidos a dagas.

Blake Baxter sabía que su antigua vida había terminado, porque ahora era... Beaver Claw.

Su misión era simple. Descubre quién preparó la cerveza que hizo vomitar a Brett y venga la muerte de su hermano. Y dígales que más de 2.000 personas definitivamente también murieron en ese yate.

Oktoberfest de 1822, Jergen von Ulrich lideró a su equipo hacia la victoria por tercer año consecutivo, dominando todos los eventos organizados por el festival. Como campeones de la celebración más grande de Munich, el equipo de Jergen fue venerado como leyenda en todos los bares y tabernas. Repasaron rápidamente los acontecimientos del primer día, bebiendo Hoffenjofferbrostlbach sin siquiera eructar hasta el mediodía.

El segundo día comenzó igual hasta que Jergen fue interrumpido por un mensajero.

“¿Qué me has traído, amigo?” -preguntó el robusto ebrio a la joven.

"Tienes una invitación aquí". Le entregó un sobre sorprendentemente limpio y fresco a Jergen.

"Gracias por esto." él le sonrió y asintió con la cabeza en agradecimiento, esperando que fuera otro evento del Oktoberfest en otro lugar de Alemania. Sentados a un lado de un banco, los tres hombres y dos mujeres de su equipo miraron las manos de Jergen, anticipando lo mismo.

“Lo siento a todos. Esta carta es sólo para mí”. les informó jovialmente, sonriendo ampliamente mientras escaneaba la carta. Todos gruñeron y procedieron a vaciar todos los cántaros que tenían delante.

Jergen apartó a su esposa, Jana, de la mesa. "Me invitaron a la cervecería... para conocer... al maestro cervecero".

Jana era igual de fuerte físicamente y tal vez más mentalmente, pero la mención del Maestro Cervecero, una leyenda urbana durante muchos años, la dejó atónita por un momento.

"¡Tienes que ir!" ella salió de su sorpresa y gritó con exuberancia.

El equipo, entrometido de nuevo, estaba mirando hacia donde estaban parados la pareja una vez que escucharon a Jana.

“¡Vuelve a tu cerveza!” Jergen se rió desde sus entrañas. El equipo hizo lo mismo cuando apareció otra ronda ante ellos. “Y volveré para los eventos de mañana. Jana beberá por mí... ¡Buena suerte, familia mía!

Ya en la partida, el equipo animó a Jergen, un hombre querido en cualquier carpa del Oktoberfest.

Jergen llegó al centro del festival, desde donde salía todo el Hoffenjofferbrostlbach. Era un gran edificio de madera, lleno de barriles, con el suelo empapado y plagado de hedor a cerveza.

Fue en la parte de atrás donde se llevó a cabo la elaboración de la cerveza. Entró en una tierra de fantasía de cereales y alcohol. Colocó sus pulgares en las correas de sus pantalones de cuero y buscó mientras esperaba la llegada del maestro cervecero. Todo era tan fascinante para él que no pudo resistirse a ponerse manos a la obra.

Un barril cercano emitió un sonido pequeño pero claro. Jergen se acercó lentamente para espiar. El hombre corpulento se dio cuenta de que la tapa estaba ligeramente levantada del cañón. Movió su mano para corregir esto, pero notó un par de ojos donde llegó su mano. En esa fracción de segundo, fue arrastrado; no dentro del cañón, sino más allá.

Para él, pasó una eternidad mientras flotaba, consciente pero en el vacío. Anhelaba regresar. Anhelaba a Jana. El tiempo se volvió irrelevante.

De repente, fue arrancado de este casi vacío. Abrió los ojos por primera vez y vio una enorme barba y un rostro resuelto encima de ella.

El hombre que alguna vez fue robusto perdió toda vida. Aunque casi no había pasado tiempo, sí lo había hecho para la forma física de Jergen y para su alma. Le quedaba muy poco tiempo. Jergen miró a su lado mientras el maestro cervecero se alejaba para recuperar un barril de su reserva privada.

"Esto debería funcionar, amigo". La voz del maestro cervecero retumbó lentamente mientras le daba a Jergen un poco de cerveza. Era un color que Jergen nunca había visto antes.

Su cuerpo comenzó a inflarse a su tamaño original y luego continuó. Los pantalones de cuero que llevaba se rompieron. El maestro cervecero sacó algo de metal de barriles viejos para reemplazar la ropa de Jergen.

"Defenderás el Oktoberfest con tu vida". Ordenó el maestro cervecero, entregándole a Jergen una llave y un barril plano y de gran tamaño.

Jergen von Ulrich murió dentro del barril. Bierguardian surgió del brebaje del maestro cervecero, preparado para soportar otra eternidad en nombre del Oktoberfest.

“¿Mi apariencia te hace sentir miserable? Si mi apariencia te hace sentir tan miserable, ¿por qué no te hago un pequeño favor? Benny hizo una pausa para lograr un efecto dramático: "Tony, sácalo de su miseria ".

"¡No! ¡Por favor! ¡No puedes hacer esto! Freddy rugió mientras lo arrastraban lejos del jefe.

"Ah, y Tony..." Benny los detuvo antes de que salieran de la habitación. “Envíale a su esposa un árbol en su honor”.

Tony asintió e ignoró el retorcerse de agonía de Freddy. Afuera de la puerta se escuchó un fuerte "POOM" y se escuchó el golpe de un enorme cadáver mientras Benny encendía un cigarro y contaba un fajo de dinero.

"¡Eso es un envoltorio!" gritó el director.

“¿Cómo estuve?” El actor principal buscó la aprobación de la sala. “Perdón por preguntar, hace tiempo que no trabajo. Podemos volver a hacerlo si cree que podría ser mejor”.

Los actores que interpretaban a Tony y Freddy se rieron entre dientes, preguntándose cómo alguien llamado Benny Danger pudo haber conseguido el papel en primer lugar. Aunque sólo era un nombre artístico, tenía poco que ver con eso. El escritor buscaba un triceratops de su talla para mantenerse fiel a la novela.

“Estuvo bien, Benny. Estamos terminando el día. Tal vez mañana será mejor." respondió el director sombríamente.

Benny salió del escenario con ojos esperanzados de que alguien del equipo o un actor estuviera disponible para discutir la escena. Él estaba solo. Al dinosaurio optimista le daba igual, 2024 era su año.

Antes de abandonar el set, salió al callejón detrás del gran almacén para llamar a su madre y compartir con ella la actuación de su primer día. Sonó sólo una vez antes de que ella respondiera.

“¡Brunón! ¿Cómo fue tu primer día en la gran ciudad, cómo fue tu escena? ¿Cómo...? Ella lo bombardeó sólo para ser interrumpida.

“Mamá, ahora soy Benny Danger. Bruno Digby no es el nombre de un actor. se quejó.

"Sí, tienes razón, lo siento 'Benny'". Benny podía oírla sonreír a través del teléfono, muy orgullosa de sus logros.

Muchos pies grandes se apresuraron hacia Benny antes de que pudiera continuar la conversación. El teléfono se le cayó de la mano por la vibración.

“Pareces duro”. afirmó el líder de una manada de cuatro matones T-Rex que rápidamente rodearon a Benny.

“¿Qué tan duro crees que es?” Otro bromeó.

"Probablemente piensa que es más duro que cualquiera de nosotros". el más grande dijo como ofendido que incluso era una posibilidad.

"Chicos... no soy duro, solo soy un actor... miren... esto es un disfraz". Benny suplicó a la tripulación, mostrándoles el material barato de su traje y su metralleta falsa.

"Oh, entonces él piensa que es mejor que nosotros porque tiene un empleo remunerado".

“No… de verdad, solo estaba hablando por teléfono con mi madre…”

Uno de los T-Rex cogió el teléfono y se escuchó a la madre de Benny gritar antes de que un brazo arrugado aplastara el teléfono.

"No me gusta... creo que deberíamos destrozarlo". afirmó el líder con crueldad. "Di tus oraciones."

Benny pensó para sí mismo que este era su último momento y nunca antes había considerado orar. Mientras los dientes lo atacaban, cerró los ojos y oró en voz alta en su mente: "Si hay algo ahí fuera escuchando, te rezo y acepto tu guía".

"Tú. Son. Digno." Dijo lentamente una voz atronadora, haciendo vibrar a Benny a una velocidad inimaginable.

Benny abrió los ojos y estaba en el mismo callejón, pero los demás ya no estaban. El teléfono no estaba hecho pedazos en el suelo. El edificio a su lado era de un color diferente. Abrió una pequeña puerta y entró. Dentro había criaturas vestidas como él, pero no dinosaurios… eran humanos.

"¿¡Qué es eso!?" Un hombre corpulento se puso de pie y se enfrentó a la criatura prehistórica erguida que había atravesado la pared. Otros cinco hombres se levantaron y apuntaron con armas al reptil gigante.

Benny estaba igual de confundido y tenía suerte de que se hablara inglés dondequiera que estuviera. Esta era su verdadera oportunidad de ser algo. Sabía que un actor no encajaría en esta pandilla. Por suerte para él, había estado estudiando para el papel; pero Benny Danger no iba a ser suficiente.

"El nombre es Gran Dino". Frunció el ceño y caminó hacia adelante. Todos los hombres dejaron caer sus armas y sus mandíbulas. El líder apuntó con su arma a la cabeza del dinosaurio.

“¿Mi cara te hace sentir miserable?” BD preguntó al humano tembloroso y desconcertado, caminando a su alrededor mientras los demás hacían espacio en un círculo lejos de los dos.

“Si mi cara te hace sentir tan miserable… ¿por qué no te hago un pequeño favor?” Big Dino hizo una pausa y vio al hombre arrepentirse de su tontería. "Muchachos, sáquenlo de su miseria ".

Todos los gánsteres se miraron vacilantes y luego se dieron cuenta de lo que debían hacer. Big Dino sonrió, dio un paso atrás y observó a toda la pandilla iluminar a su líder anterior y luego volverse hacia él en busca de aprobación.

La voz atronadora volvió a hablar con Big Dino, la oscuridad envolvió su realidad por un breve momento.

“¡Profanador!”

Gorun Mai era un planeta de criaturas débiles, producto de un entorno carente de adversidad. A pesar de esto, la inteligencia llevó a su civilización a la paz y la prosperidad durante muchos miles de años. El planeta abundaba en recursos y la población gorun prosperó.

Los Goruns construyeron tecnologías avanzadas y viajaron por su galaxia, sin haber encontrado nunca evidencia de que esto fuera peligroso.

En su primera expedición, atrajeron la atención de algo siniestro que los seguiría de regreso a Gorun Mai sin ser detectados.

Antes de que el barco aterrizara, los pilotos pudieron ver lo que habían traído. Un ser flotó en el cielo y abrió portales de fuego en Gorun Mai. A partir de las lágrimas, una variedad de horrores cargaron contra los Goruns. Más de la mitad de la población fue capturada o devorada en un día.

Escondidos para sobrevivir, un grupo de Goruns especialmente inteligentes se unieron para construir algo para defenderse de la invasión. Desde el corazón de Gorun Mai, se recogieron metales raros y se forjaron en una gran máquina. Lo hicieron mucho más grande que ellos, pero a su propia imagen y lo llamaron “Bor Kai”; o “Salvador” en su idioma.

Cuando Bor Kai se encendió, los Goruns cercanos comenzaron a transformarse según lo previsto. Ya no eran débiles. Aquellos que entraran en contacto con la máquina, a través de las propiedades de los materiales de Gorun Mai, se volverían lo suficientemente poderosos como para combatir al enemigo. Volaría por todo el planeta y otorgaría fuerza a los casi masacrados.

Y así fue.

Gorun Mai montó una defensa contra las criaturas infernales e incluso ahuyentó a su presagio. El propósito de Bor Kai se cumplió. El ser metálico creado para salvar el planeta se convertiría en una reliquia de su historia.

Los Gorun restantes se reunieron para celebrar a su campeón sobre los escombros de su otrora bulliciosa ciudad. Ahora todos eran lo suficientemente fuertes como para levantar a Bor Kai en el aire, cantando su nombre hasta que todo quedó en silencio.

Bor Kai arrancó un sentimiento de logro y compasión. Flotó en el vacío y se dio cuenta de que Gorun Mai y sus habitantes habían sido evaporados por el mismo ser que creían haber derrotado.

La explosión lanzó a Bor Kai a las profundidades del espacio, fuera de la galaxia, y durante muchos milenios flotó sin rumbo fijo.

Un planeta apareció a la vista después de que había pasado un tiempo interminable. Bor Kai estaba entrando en la atmósfera de la Tierra.

Como un meteoro, Bor Kai fue capturado por la gravedad del planeta y cayó rápidamente hacia la superficie.

Abajo, una fábrica de utensilios comenzó la primera producción de un nuevo juego de cubiertos. Una tina de metal fundido se alimentaba en un tubo, y los propietarios debatían el tamaño del molde que llenaría ese tubo.

"Estás bromeando, eso va a ser imposible de usar". Uno de los hombres se burló.

"Veamos... si tienes razón, simplemente haremos uno y lo ajustaremos". Respondió el hombre a cargo.

Tosió, ocultando el sonido de algo que atravesó el techo y cayó directamente en la tina.

"Está bien, hagamos esto".

Tiraron de la palanca para comenzar la producción. Bor Kai había viajado a través del universo sólo para ser destruido al llegar. Sentía que la existencia era cruel, pero justa. Se sintió reconfortado porque este era el final.

Pero no fue así. Los metales líquidos se vertieron desde la tina hacia el tubo y llenaron el molde de gran tamaño. Una vez templado y preparado para su uso, uno de los hombres agarró el mango.

Al instante, su brazo, hasta los hombros e incluso parte de la espalda, explotó en tamaño. La manga que llevaba se desintegró y no sostenía a Bor Kai, sino a Big Knife, la reencarnación.

"Oh mi…." el otro hombre jadeó.

“¡¿Debería seguir sosteniéndolo?!” se preguntó el hombre a cargo.

"Probablemente no... aquí, ponlo aquí". el otro hombre sostenía un gran bote de basura de metal para guardar las sobras. El cuchillo sobresalía de la parte superior de la lata vacía, un testimonio de su tamaño.

Los dos hombres se miraron en silencio por un momento, el brazo del portador volvió a la normalidad lentamente.

“Pero sí, seguro que el molde es más pequeño...”

Big Knife pasaría a ser propiedad de muchos en tiempos de necesidad. Se convertiría en esperanza para los desesperados... en un filo para los aburridos.

Aire fresco y un ovillo de lana, Butters, el gato atigrado, disfrutó de su tiempo en lo alto de su torre para gatos. Su pelaje era prístino y de color amarillo anaranjado, vibrante y lujoso. La habitación estaba llena de juguetes que podía tocar y objetos sobre los que saltar. No podría estar más feliz.

Butters saltó de su torre al suelo y se pavoneó por la panadería. En sus pasos quedaron huellas de la harina en el suelo. Rozó unas piernas humanas confusas para mostrar afecto. Era su manera.

Butters fue a la cocina, donde había un cuenco de leche fresca, solo para él. Su lengua se sumergió en el cuenco, pero Butters no pudo saborear la leche.

“Butters…” se escuchó una voz inquisitiva. Miró hacia arriba, pero no había nada más que pasteles en la mesa de preparación. Nuevamente intentó beber.

“¿Mantequillas?” La voz estaba algo preocupada, pero también sonaba irritada. Butters hizo todo lo posible para buscar la fuente esta vez, pero ahora la panadería estaba vacía de humanos.

“¡Mantequillas!” Esta vez, la voz lo despertó. No estaba en una panadería, sino en el porche trasero de una pequeña casa.

“¿Eras tú?” gritó su 'dueño', sosteniendo una camisa empapada de orina. Butters no entendía, pero hacía meses que no le permitían entrar a la casa. No había manera de que hubiera ensuciado la ropa del hombre enojado. “Por supuesto que lo fue. Por eso te quedas aquí. ¡Eres un MAL GATO!

El hombre enojado golpeó a Butters con el pie. "¡Ni siquiera intentes entrar a la casa!" Fue la última palabra antes de que el hombre cerrara la puerta de metal con fuerza, seguramente despertando a los vecinos a esta hora de la noche.

En el podrido patio trasero de la casa, con una cerca de alambre de púas, Butters encontró un rincón donde al menos podría tener un refugio con madera desechada y latas de cerveza. Miró su pelaje, que soñó que estaba muy limpio, pero sólo vio parches faltantes y embarrados.

A través de los escombros bajo los cuales se acurrucaba, Butters vio un cielo vívido con todo el universo. Le parecía un reflejo. Una constelación sobresalió y llamó su atención. Las estrellas formaron una forma que él conocía. Las orejas puntiagudas y los patrones de pelaje convencieron a Butters de que estaba mirando a un gato, muy parecido a él.

Butters no sabía que las estrellas estaban allí mirándolo. Los poderes cósmicos habían visto la difícil situación del gatito y su maltrato. El antiguo ser de arriba quedó absorto en la compasión y la empatía. Vendría en ayuda de Butters.

El sueño fue interrumpido por el portazo de la puerta metálica contra la pared exterior de la casa. Butters se escondió entre los escombros, con la esperanza de evitar a su abusador.

“¿Mantequillas?.... ¿Mantequillas??.... ¡¡Mantequillas!!”

Latas y madera explotaron desde un rincón del patio. Butters ya no tenía dueño. El hombre enojado fue quien se acobardaría a partir de ese momento. Una bestia gigante, un gato atigrado bípedo, se acercó al porche, haciendo crujir los nudillos, listo para empezar a trabajar, ya que el hombre no tenía ninguna duda sobre quién estaba orinando en sus pantalones.

Charlie se despertó en la parte trasera del restaurante, todavía exhausto por el trabajo de la noche anterior. Su madre ya estaba horneando, preparando y limpiando. Su padre estaba cortando carne con su gran cuchillo.

"Charlie, ven a ayudarnos a cocinar". su madre hizo una seña.

Incluso tan cansado, Charlie sintió que la energía recorría su cuerpo. Corrió hacia su madre, que finalmente era lo suficientemente alta como para mirar por encima del mostrador.

"Esta es la receta". Le sonrió a Charlie y vio que sus ojos se iluminaban como si le hubieran dado el mejor regalo. Siempre le habían encantado las recetas. Para él, era como si estuviera viendo a través del plato todos sus ingredientes.

“¿Pero dónde está el resto?” —Preguntó Charlie.
"¿El resto de qué, cariño?"
"El resto de los ingredientes, mamá".

La madre de Charlie lo miró perpleja. Agarró el papel en el que estaba garabateada la receta y lo estudió detenidamente para asegurarse de que no faltara nada.

“Oh, Charlie, normalmente no le pongo sal ni pimienta a la receta de un plato como este. Podemos condimentar al gusto”.
“No, mamá. Mirar."

Charlie señaló directamente a una línea que decía "2 huevos" y miró a su madre con genuina esperanza en sus ojos.

“Charlie, no necesitas ingredientes para los huevos. Vienen por ahí”.

Charlie no quedó satisfecho con esta respuesta, pero ignoró su curiosidad. A medida que crecía, estas preguntas se volvieron cada vez más incómodas. Charlie anhelaba una receta más profunda, una comprensión a un nivel más fundamental.

El servicio de cena de un viernes por la noche estaba más ocupado que nunca los tres lo habían visto. El padre de Charlie gritaba desde la cocina y su madre corría frenéticamente desde el comedor hasta la cocina. Charlie tenía edad suficiente para atender a los clientes, pero estaba atrapado preparando un plato.

"Charlie, solo cocina la comida, quedará perfecta". Su madre se tomó un momento para calmar a su hijo.
“Tienes razón mamá, pero no lo entiendes. Podría ser mejor."

Charlie salió del restaurante, su padre le gritaba que volviera y su madre sollozaba en silencio.

Las universidades de las grandes ciudades ofrecían muchos programas de aprendizaje diferentes, pero Charlie sólo tenía la mira puesta en una clase. Entró en una sala de tres estudiantes y un profesor, esperando que llegaran más, pero eso fue todo. Fue en esta clase donde iría más allá de la receta y alcanzaría el verdadero núcleo de todas las cosas.

El profesor enseñó matemáticas y física rigurosas. Charlie luchó por mantener el ritmo al principio y reprobó la clase varias veces. Pagó la clase hasta el último centavo. Cuando finalmente lo consiguió. Estudió las matemáticas y la teoría como si fuera una receta, e hizo el trabajo para buscar el nivel más profundo. Cada concepto fue deconstruido. Cada partícula se desgarró para revelar otra. Se encontró yendo tan profundo que no quedaba nada.

Charlie sintió un callejón sin salida. Durante semanas preguntó qué más había en el nivel más profundo. En las escalas más pequeñas y en los vacíos más vacíos, necesitaba conocer los ingredientes.

Se sentó en su silla en clase, reflexionando sobre esto, sin prestar atención al maestro. Entonces se dio cuenta; en el nivel más bajo, no había nada. En todo no había nada. Fue un equilibrio que su cerebro comenzó a comprender y así sin más. ESTALLIDO

Un huevo cayó desde el aire al suelo. Su primer sujeto de escrutinio surgió de la nada. Todos quedaron atónitos, boquiabiertos y se miraron mientras Charlie salía de la habitación a toda prisa.

En la calle perdió el control. Los alimentos se generaron en el aire y cayeron sobre civiles desprevenidos. Los coches chocaban y la gente comía en contra de su voluntad. Entró en la habitación que alquilaba y cerró la puerta de un portazo. El pequeño dormitorio se estaba llenando cada vez más de todo tipo de comida que Charlie conocía. Se estaba quedando sin espacio. Necesitaba concentrarse.

Charlie se frotó la barriga y pensó en el plato más elegante que podía preparar. Su estómago brillaba débilmente y el plato flotó desde el aire hasta sus manos. Él lo había hecho. Cada ingrediente de cada alimento estaba ahora dentro de su cerebro.

Al regresar a casa, Charlie observó a su madre trabajar a través de una ventana, con tristeza en sus movimientos. Entró pisando fuerte y vio a su padre cortando carne lentamente, sin vida.

“Mamá, papá. Mira. Me lo imaginé."

Charlie generó para cada uno de ellos sus comidas favoritas. Quedaron atónitos por un momento antes de darle un mordisco. La comida era lo más delicioso que ninguno de los dos había comido jamás.

Charlie dirigió el restaurante una vez que sus padres fallecieron y heredó el cuchillo característico de su padre. Después de muchos años de éxito allí, protagonizó su propio programa de cocina no como Charlie, sino como el superhéroe chef Chop.

Damon worked every ship at the port, crabbing for weeks at a time. He struggled to keep jobs due to his wild temper. It was because of his short fuse that he went to work on northern waters. Freezing cold air and long hours would keep him from exploding, he thought. That wasn’t the case. He was kicked off of ship after ship for his outbursts and volatile nature.

His last shot was a ship called the Crab ‘N Go. Silas Stone, a grumpy old captain, took Damon in on a small, two man ship and was careful not to ignite his temper. While hauling in cages, Silas would recount his younger years on the water and all the adventures he had. He would always round off his stories with his greatest regret.

“Mr. Cole, can you guess what my biggest failure in life was?”

“Family…” Damon replied quietly while pulling crab claws off his arm.

“That’s right. Now, I may have told you this before, but there’s no reason I can’t repeat myself. I wasted so many years living for myself that now, as my life comes to an end, I have nothing to live for.” Silas grew quiet and Damon peered at him curiously. “You have time, Damon. You’re still young.”

“If I knew I could be a good husband, or a good father, I’d already be those things, sir. Some people don’t deserve those things.”

“Hmm.” the captain grunted and walked back to steer.

The Crab ‘N Go began to tip back and forth from a large wave. Damon held tight onto the cage he had unloaded. Silas fell onto the deck and slid to the end of the ship. As Damon moved to help, the entire boat flipped into the ice cold water. 

As his racing heart was slowed by the freezing depths, Damon opened his eyes to see through schools of fish and connect to a pair of glowing eyes in the distance. An enormous creature swam away within an instant, but Damon would never forget that moment. He lost consciousness and felt his body give way to the cold.

After a while, a cage dropped down below Damon and then scooped him up to a crabbing vessel he once worked upon. Silas was gone. Damon saw death and was brought back to life. Doctors told him he should have died, that all of his organs would have shut down for the amount of time he was in the water.

Within days, Damon moved back to Big City, where he grew up. He returned to his neighborhood and married his high school crush. Over the next few years, he settled down completely, having three boys and two girls. 

One day, as they walked on the busy street, Damon saw a man bump his daughter. He turned to face the man and started shouting. “HEY!”

The man turned around and Damon had an aura of cold around him. He noticed this and began to weaponize it, focusing on moving it toward the man. His kids all tugged on his shirt, never having seen his temper before. They pleaded, “Daddy, chill!”

Damon dropped the confrontation and smiled at his kids. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”

The End

Later that night, when the family was asleep, Damon’s eyes wouldn’t shut. He saw the face of the man on the street, Silas’ face and the eyes of the sea. He couldn’t silence this awakening of his rage.

As quietly as he could, Damon snuck out of the house and walked the streets, looking for a problem. He walked into a gym that was still open and asked one of the boxers if he could spar.

“You’re a little small, but sure, this’ll be fun… for me.” the boxer chuckled.

Damon froze gloves over his hands and took a first swing. The man stood back calmly and removed his gloves.

“Ahh. You don’t want to spar. You want to hurt somebody. This isn’t the place. Here.”

Damon read a note the boxer passed him and went to the location scribbled on it. On the edge of Big City in an old building, stairs led down to a massive arena. All forms of fighter stood around watching while two battled in the center.

“You want next?” an old man asked Damon.

“Yeah. I want next.”

When it was his turn, Damon stepped into the ring with no idea who he’d be facing. From the crowd stepped out a large man in shorts. He was grunting to himself as he walked forward, “Er, agh, uhh, BOO-”

Damon froze the enemy’s entire body just before he struck. A large block of ice surrounded him. But it began to crack as Damon started to walk away.

“-YAH!” finished the enemy.

Damon felt the air tremble. This was power. The opponent approached, grunting. Damon stopped him.

“Fight’s over. I gotta go cut off some crusts.”

Drácula fue considerado verdaderamente malvado por la mayoría de quienes se atrevieron a hablar de él durante su prolongada vida. Era bien sabido que era más poderoso incluso que las historias contadas. En lo más profundo de la noche, en muchos pueblos cercanos al castillo, las sombras se abalanzaban sobre las casas. Luego, por la mañana, sus seres queridos desaparecieron. Esto continuó durante cientos de años hasta que surgió la furia generacional.

Todos los aldeanos prohibieron reunirse temprano en la mañana fuera del castillo. Trajeron hombres, mujeres, niños y hasta sus perros de granja. Todos empuñaban una antorcha o una horca, dispuestos a poner fin al terror.

Antes de llamar a la puerta, ésta se abrió lenta y misteriosamente. Los hombres señalaron y todos los perros entraron primero. Uno dudó por un momento.

“¡Dragos, vete!” ordenó uno de los aldeanos.

Dragos fue mimado toda su vida. Ahora esperaban que se pusiera en peligro. Caminó tranquilamente hacia la puerta, con la cola atrapada entre las piernas. Los aullidos de los otros perros lo dejaron justo donde estaba. Procedían de lo más profundo del castillo, por lo que los aldeanos asumieron que la entrada inmediata era segura.

Cientos de aldeanos entraron al castillo antes de que la puerta se cerrara de golpe y la oscuridad fuera recibida por rayos de sol a través de las grietas de la pared. Drácula descendió rápidamente sobre cada infiltrado, drenando cada gota de sangre en cuestión de segundos.

De espaldas a la puerta estaba Dragos, encogido de miedo. Drácula se dejó caer al suelo, transformándose de monstruo a hombre.

"No viniste aquí para esto". Le dio unas palmaditas a Dragos en la cabeza. "Se puede ir."

Drácula agitó un dedo hacia la puerta y ésta se abrió de par en par. Dragos se dio cuenta de que su dueño estaba entre los masacrados. Este nuevo hombre no parecía tan malo.

La cola de Dragos se levantó y se meneó cuando Drácula le dio la espalda.

"Se puede ir." repitió el vampiro.

Dragos rozó su cabeza contra la mano de Drácula, buscando ser una mascota. Drácula retrocedió y se transformó en algo monstruoso, cuya visión probablemente detendría el corazón de un hombre. Al crecer de tamaño, su cuerpo se movió hacia la luz del sol que entraba por la puerta abierta. Dragos notó la piel ardiendo y se movió para cerrar la puerta, mordiendo la manija y tirando.

Drácula volvió a su forma habitual y se quedó perplejo por un momento. Sin decir otra palabra al animal, voló hacia lo profundo del castillo, de regreso a descansar. Dragos lo siguió lentamente, olfateando y explorando el camino.

Durante los años siguientes, Dragos saludaría a Drácula cada vez que regresaba al castillo por la noche. Durante el día, exploraba y "protegía" a su nuevo amo.

Drácula bañaba a Dragos cada vez que su pelaje se volvía demasiado grotesco para mirarlo, y no lo disfrutaba. A menudo cerraba su propia puerta si Dragos hacía demasiado ruido para que él pudiera dormir.

En una noche particularmente fructífera para la alimentación del vampiro, algunos nuevos aldeanos decidieron preparar una emboscada. Entraron al castillo sabiendo que Drácula estaba lejos. Dragos corrió hacia la puerta al oír el sonido para encontrarlos. Saltó para proteger a su dueño, pero fue aplastado y cortado por una horca.

Drácula escuchó el grito de Dragos y soltó a su víctima, volando a casa lo más rápido posible. En un abrir y cerrar de ojos, se alejó de cuarenta aldeanos y se arrodilló junto a su perro.

Sólo una opción podría curarlo.

Drácula hundió sus dientes en el cuello quejumbroso de Dragos, sin estar seguro de si era posible.

Pasaron horas antes de que Dragos comenzara a sanar. Se levantó de donde yacía y rozó al aliviado Drácula.

Muchos años después, los aldeanos consiguieron armamento avanzado y tendieron una emboscada a Drácula mientras Dragos estaba en el patio. Entró al castillo escuchando la puerta cerrarse y no encontró nada más que la ropa de Drácula.

Dragos se acurrucó en la túnica de Drácula y esperó el regreso de su maestro, por mucho tiempo que tomara.

Sabía que siempre sería el perro de Drácula.

Emperor of the planet Tol, Goruz X, set his sights on the young species upon the previously uninhabitable planet Mynt. Only for a few million years had the icy scent that once permeated the air begun to fade enough for life to form. Bipedal hominids stepped across rocky landscapes and swam oceans, quickly forming tribes, though Goruz X thought the process was too slow.

 

Lurking in the sky above a tribe, the Tol ship lay in wait for someone to leave one of the many tents below. Though the sky was dark, Goruz X spotted a boy seeming to sneak out. He descended rapidly as the boy entered the treeline, abducting him with the ship’s tractor beam. The boy floated up and viewed the ship curiously, laughing slightly, as if tickled, entering a large chamber for experimentation.

“We shall make this species our own. Give him our greatest gift… FLIGHT!”

A button was pressed and energy flowed from a machine into every cell of the boy’s body. The change was immediate and apparent, as he rose from the floor of the ship on his own, grinning with the power he felt.

“Now… go and mate. We’ll see you in a few hundred years when your entire species is flying. This should make you all much more productive.”

It was clear the boy did not speak Tolian, though they felt he got the gist from the smirk on his face.

“There’s no way this could backfire.” Goruz X stated confidently, releasing the boy back to where he was captured.

A concerned father emerged from the tent and comforted his son, but he appeared to be fine. They spoke in a primitive language with hand gestures, “Dovvi, what happened?” 

Dovvi, short for Dovvinilunulonidonocupin, replied, “Nothing, dad. Let’s go hunt.”

His father reluctantly agreed, knowing his son was released from an otherworldly ship.

On the plains, father and son chased plump fruits that rolled off of trees down slopes of sap, then popped onto a different tree. They needed to catch one at the midpoint between two trees, but they were very slippery and the sap only lasted a few moments. Dovvi’s father grabbed a tree and shook, dropping a fruit. Sap formed below and Dovvi followed where it headed, entering the dense forest.

As the two struggled to produce any food, just above, another race interested in the new species on Mynt searched for any of this fascinating life.

Once Dovvi climbed the tree where his fruit was heading, the beings from planet Roppinus spotted their mark. “Get him now, we must alter these primal beasts to be our soldiers. Your plan is foolproof, great Queen Channa.”

Queen Channa nodded at her royal administrator, giving the signal to capture the boy. Three grappling suction cup hooks were flung down and shot at Dovvi. He considered flying away, but then thought how advantageous his first abduction was. He smiled and looked up as he was reeled in.

“Careful not to kill him. Make him as strong as our greatest warrior, no, STRONGER.”

“Genius, milady.”

Needles converged on Dovvi’s neck, injecting him with tons of strange, thick liquids. He just eyeballed all the creatures present. As the needles retracted, Dovvi felt his body growing, his strength increasing.

“Perfect.” the Queen chuckled, signaling Dovvi’s release.

“My son, what happened?”

“Nothing dad. Let’s continue our hunt.”

Dovvi’s father looked up at the ship that was leaving and saw another one coming in. Behind that one, lights as far as his eyes could see. He could tell that his son had changed and that what was happening was greater than himself. Pride filled his body and he chose to ignore the abductions and continue hunting with his son.

Dovvi was carried into the sky by a large leaf. The Yallens aboard the ship believed this genetic modification was their best idea ever, and ironically bestowed upon him their unparalleled intelligence and ability to communicate. This helped him understand the motion of the fruit, but gave him no way to actually grab it.

Next, the Aura, a swarm of beings made of light, gave him power over light itself. He used this ability to shoot from his forehead a laser at the sap track ahead of the rolling fruit, though it formed another and found a tree.

A large, furry beast grabbed Dovvi and jumped straight up into a fuzzy ship. The hideous creatures claimed to grant him undeniable beauty and attraction. He returned to Mynt and recruited nearby hunters to help him and his father.

Two hands flew down and held Dovvi’s hands, though he pushed them off and flew beside them to their ship. They returned to their owners, similar creatures to Dovvi. Spells were cast on him to give him immortality and invincibility. The three beings in charge spoke as one, “We’ll totally never regret this… awesome… bye.” 

Dovvi flew towards the ground and a flash whooshed past him. It then moved upwards, creating a vortex that sucked him up into another ship. Without saying anything, he entered and was removed. He could feel that they definitely did something, and he assumed speed, as they moved so fast that he wasn’t able to perceive their actions. A quick run around Mynt supported his theory.

Dovvi was growing tired after a few more abductions and as the final ship arrived, he flew up to meet them himself. Before the humble people of planet Yogera presented their genetic alteration to him, he refused. They left the planet disappointed. They’d have to wait for another young species to give their gift of humility to, though they did give him a couple of Yogeran capes and a belt with the Yogeran symbol of humility.

A feast of fruit was had. Dovvi gave credit to his father and some other tribesmen as if he was helped, though he caught them all on his own in a different area of the forest, with all his abilities working perfectly in harmony.

Planet Mynt would never know of the foreign attempts to revolutionize them. Dovvi’s father would be the only one ever aware that he was changed. It felt to him unfair that he was granted all of these abilities, when his family wasn’t. 

Many years later, Dovvi’s father had grown old. Dovvi had grown to adulthood and stopped growing altogether. Laying on a soft bed of leaves, in the sky, lights indicated that something was wrong.

A galactic coalition had formed. All the races that intervened in Mynt ended up sitting aboard a council for the betterment of the cosmos. They had decided, quite recently, that their plans had failed. They each confessed that they altered the genetics of a Myntian boy. None of them realized that it was the same boy.

Following the failure, they came to the conclusion that planet Mynt was of no use and should be destroyed. They all agreed, readied their laser, and blasted.

Dovvi held his father as bright light washed over them both. His father held his face, and the hand upon him disintegrated. His usual smile vanished and he floated sadly above a crumbling surface.

“Oh… Oh shit.” calmly announced Emperor Goruz X, watching Dovvi smash through the impenetrable glass of the coalition mothership.

Dovvi flew at full speed through the bulbous chest of the emperor. Goo splattered everywhere in the stadium-like hall where the meeting was held. He eyeballed who was next, ignoring lasers and punching holes in any guards who approached.

Queen Channa hobbled from her chair, clearly aged from when Dovvi last saw her. He flew to the tall creature and put a hand on her head, crushing her down into the floor. Her royal administrator screamed nearby, so Dovvi flashed a half-hearted laser at him, melting him into the metal wall behind.

He smashed and tore apart all the council members until he reached the Aura. They floated arrogantly.

“We cannot be touched. HAHAHA. And he cannot even understand us!”

“Wrong.” Dovvi reached forward and grabbed the largest of the Aura by the ball. “Why?”

“Because we failed… Mynt should have been thriving by now, but our modifications all failed.”

“They didn’t fail. Look at me. I’m proof of your success.”

“Wrong. You were meant to spread this power to your people.”

Dovvi held tight the Aura. A tear fell from his eye as he realized that he himself was the demise of his planet. He looked to his side and crushed the Aura, causing them all to darken. 

He said under his breath to himself, “They didn’t fail… I did.”

The ship was no longer piloted, and thus floated towards the nearby star. Dovvi floated in place and ended up exiting through the hole in the window. He looked down and caught a last sniff of the glorious scent of the remnants of Mynt.

For millennia, he floated and visited many planets. He became known as a protector and a hero through many deeds in the universe. Eventually, he found a planet that had people like his own that seemed like it would one day desperately need him.

Dovvi believed he was, and truly he was, the most powerful being in the universe. Even so,  in the center of a vast desert on Earth, where the locals gave him the name Duperman, he awaited the inevitable cosmic punishment for the downfall of his planet. And he felt it coming.

En las profundidades más bajas del océano, Fip Mub pasó rápidamente junto a todos los depredadores a una velocidad increíble. Para una raya, esto no era típico. En lugar de planear, tenía propulsión intrínseca. Fue un regalo, un salto de evolución y nada más.

Fip jugaba con sus hermanos y hermanas en las turbias profundidades, sumergiéndose dentro y fuera de la salmuera. Sus padres siempre les habían advertido que no lo hicieran, pero Fip sabía que era seguro a esa velocidad. Desaparecía por un momento y luego “SPLOOSH” explotaba frente a sus entretenidos hermanos.

De todos los niños ray, él era el mayor y se encargaba de su cuidado. Lo seguían de cerca y él los custodiaba, cuidando de su bienestar.

Una corriente comenzó a pasar entre los jóvenes Mubs. Era poderoso y transportaba a muchas criaturas descuidadamente a otra parte del océano. Fip alejó a todos de la corriente y los llevó hacia donde estaban sus padres.

En un instante, la corriente siguió el lugar donde se movían los rayos. Escapar no era una opción. Fip reaccionó rápidamente y utilizó su tamaño para impedir que sus hermanos menores se dejaran llevar y se perdieran para siempre. Completamente extendido, les indicó a todos que aguantaran y los impulsó fuera de la corriente.

Una vez más, la fuerte fuerza del océano los alcanzó. Fip empujó a todos sus hermanos al fondo del mar para evitar la columna de agua en movimiento. Reconoció que esto no era la naturaleza. Algo estaba causando este fenómeno.

Fip entró en la corriente y se estabilizó, enfrentándose a toda la vida marina que pasaba. Perfeccionó su propulsión y atravesó el agua rápidamente. Animales que nunca había visto antes lo rozaban, lo golpeaban (es posible que haya matado a algunos por accidente).

Finalmente, captó el origen del disturbio. Un humano montó una manada de delfines en una ola submarina que él mismo creó. A través del agua habló en burbujas.

“¡KOWABUNGIS!”

Con su palabra, envió otra corriente a través del océano, que habría desintegrado un rayo más lento.

Fip tenía que proteger su océano. Se impulsó, alcanzando al humano en sólo un momento. Una explosión de energía empujó su cuerpo a través del agua hacia el enemigo. Fip estaba decidido y confiado.

Desafortunadamente, su puntería no estaba ni cerca del surfista. Pasó volando y chocó contra el costado de una ballena que pasaba. La ballena giró lentamente y chocó con el humano. Victoria indirecta para Fip. El humano dejó escapar un suave grito y ascendió a la superficie mientras Fip observaba, enojado por su fracaso.

El mayor de los Mub regresó a casa con su familia, que estaba acurrucada cerca de un coral. Tres de sus hermanos estaban desaparecidos.

Fip recorrió el fondo del océano y encontró los cuerpos de sus dos hermanos más pequeños y su hermana mayor flotando justo sobre la salmuera.

Kowabungis pagaría.

Fip se despidió y voló a través del océano hasta la orilla más cercana. Se adentraría en el mundo del hombre hasta localizar y derrotar al despreciado surfista. En el mundo del hombre, sería conocido como Fearless Manta.

Freddy Heinz awoke to the thick smell of smoke. In his third story bedroom, he struggled to open the door as the handle was red hot. Outside the window, a man was standing, but he couldn’t see any details. He screamed for his mother and father and heard them downstairs coughing. The door began to disintegrate from the heat. Freddy elbowed down the wood of the door and made his way out. His skin was burning, and he struggled to breathe, coughing as he moved towards the stairs.

Atop the first step, Freddy collapsed, tumbling down to the bottom level of the house. He suffered contusions and his body was damaged significantly, burning quickly.

Meanwhile, in the Underworld, a rogue demon named Morgul ran around putting out Beemon’s eternal flames. Other demons tried to capture him, but he was too elusive. As he channeled a spell of extinguishing one flame, he was caught by Beemon itself. The horrifying figure floated before him, and he had but one option.

Morgul sacrificed his body for his soul to ascend and enter the mortal realm. Of the entire world, all the fires called out to him, but only one had a body for him to inhabit. He traversed the realms and possessed young Freddy. 

Freddy’s body healed and withstood the flame with ease. Morgul couldn’t, however, aid him in breathing. He collapsed once more, and his resident demon was dormant.

Lifted from the floor, Freddy was placed in a mask to provide oxygen. He was carried to the back of an ambulance and screamed for his mother and father. The fireman put up a finger to tell him to wait a moment. He watched as the fireman walked to another ambulance, where he wheeled out Freddy’s mother. She was a little banged up, but she was fine, and happy to see her son.

“Your father didn’t make it, son, I’m sorry.” the fireman told Freddy, and left him to mourn.

Freddy and his mother sobbed together each on a gurney. At the hospital later, the fireman introduced himself as the captain of his squadron. He came by to check on them and handed Freddy a toy fire truck. “I know you’re a little old for toys, but I figure you’ll be bored enough here while they monitor you.” 

“Thanks.” Freddy offered his solemn gratitude, his voice stifled through the breathing tubes. The captain began to walk out of the room quietly, as Mrs. Heinz was sleeping. Freddy stopped him with a question. “How did the fire start?”

The captain made a strange face. “Well, your father left a cigarette still burning near a curtain.”

Freddy nodded and the captain left.

Many years later, Freddy joined the local firemen. He was considered one of the best amongst his peers. His record of saved lives far surpassed any other. People attributed that to his breathing apparatus, which was superior to any mask they’d wear. After a shift one morning, he called to speak with his mother.

“Hey mom. I’ve been thinking…” his voice was muffled through his mouthpiece, “...do you resent dad for causing the fire?”

“What do you mean?” his mother asked.

“His cigarette. He left it near the curtain, remember?”

“Oh, honey, no. Your father never smoked. He hated cigarettes. If anything, they told me my hair dryer was likely the cause.”

Freddy grew silent and Morgul focused his mind on his memory. He saw the captain through his bedroom window all those years ago, before the rest of the firemen even arrived. The captain was smiling and nodding up at the window. Freddy knew right away that he had been lied to, that his father was killed not by his mother’s careless mistake, but by the captain himself.

Freddy geared up and petitioned Morgul to grant him his power. He would find the captain and extinguish him, avenging his father. With demonic power, he controlled his fellow firemen and climbed the ranks of firefighters, searching for his nemesis as Firehouse.

“Dicen que el león es el rey de la jungla…” Gatorlord les habló a sus caimanes como si les estuviera contando un cuento antes de dormir. "...pero me he comido muchos leones..." hizo una pausa y respiró hondo, su hocico justo sobre el agua, enviando una onda a través del agua y vapor saliendo de ella. "...y nunca me atraganté con una corona". Se quedó mirando, contando con orgullo cientos de años de fechorías en todo el mundo cuando era un joven caimán.

“Yo diría…” comenzó a flotar, desplazando el agua por todo el lago, con caimanes atrapados en la deriva. "...no se puede dar ese título a una especie entera". Gatorlord se giró para mirar a una sección diferente de los caimanes. "Ese es un título para ser usado por uno..." gruñó con saña, los caimanes retrocedieron gradualmente, temiendo que atacara si se movían demasiado rápido, y él lo haría. "...y por ningún otro."

Gator Lake recibió un nombre apropiado y fue tratado apropiadamente. El viento mismo no se atrevió a pisar el territorio de Gatorlord. El agua estaba siempre quieta y de un distintivo color rojo sangre. Además, a menudo estaba cubierto por una capa de siniestra y ondulante niebla. El sol parecía no brillar nunca allí.

Los lugareños conocían el peligro que acechaba bajo la superficie, aunque ese peligro rara vez se sumergía por completo. Las granjas de cabras y caballos rodearon la orilla del lago hasta que todas sus cabras fueron destrozadas y se quedaron con un solo caballo que logró escapar con vida de Gatorlord. Subestimó a ese caballo y desde entonces tuvo un gran respeto por su único superviviente.

“Gatorlings…” Gatorlord frunció las cejas y sonrió. “…vamos…”, dejó caer sus piernas hasta el fondo del lago, y la cabeza que descansaba en la superficie del agua se elevó en el aire. Incluso en la profundidad más baja del lago, Gatorlord se encontraba muy por encima del agua. Se giró en todas direcciones para hacer contacto visual amenazador con los muchos caimanes en el lago, luego sus rasgos faciales se llenaron de una ferocidad indescriptible cuando terminó su frase: "¡COME!"

Todos los caimanes siguieron al imponente reptil fuera del agua. Para ellos era un placer viajar en busca de comida, además de un peligro. Muchos de ellos habían sido comidos por Gatorlord, pensando que venían por su porción.

Corriendo rápidamente hacia un pequeño pueblo a buena distancia de Gator Lake, la noche cayó en el momento perfecto. Si hubiera más luz, Gatorlord habría sido visto en un instante. Aún así, los ruidos en cada hogar deberían haber sido lo suficientemente alarmantes.

Gatorlord se acercó a una casa humilde, oliendo la carne del interior. Arrancó la pared más cercana y la casa se inundó de caimanes inmediatamente. Rodearon a una familia de cinco personas en el sofá y el suelo de la sala, esperando la orden.

Gatorlord miró a los niños, la luz del interior de la casa iluminaba su rostro malicioso desde abajo. Los humanos estaban congelados por el miedo. Hizo contacto visual con el que parecía ser el niño menos asustado.

“Tu padre…” hizo un gesto hacia el padre, en posición fetal en el sofá. "...te obliga a tirarte al suelo". Gatorlord se inclina y coloca su hocico cerca del padre. “Dime… ¿realmente… se ha GANADO este derecho?”

“¿Qué quieres decir?” la niña tartamudea en respuesta, y su familia le hace señas para que no lo haga. Un par de caimanes saltan para atacar, incapaces de esperar más.

'CRUJIDO'

Entre dos garras, Gatorlord aplastó a los dos caimanes y volvió a jugar con su comida.

“Te lo pregunto, niña…” huele la casa y mira alrededor del exterior. “…cuántos tiene…”, su rostro nuevamente se vuelve feroz, provocando que dos de los humanos orinen de inmediato de puro terror. "¿DELICADO?"

Los humanos no podían comprender la pregunta, como si matar fuera una forma de aportar valor a la familia. Desafortunadamente, este momento de reflexión fue demasiado largo. La prolongación de su desaparición había terminado. Gatorlord gruñó violentamente a todos los caimanes, quienes evacuaron la casa momentáneamente mientras se comía a tres de los miembros de la familia. Los otros dos los recogió en su boca y comenzó a alejarse. Los caimanes se dieron un festín con muchas sobras de la casa.

De regreso al lago fueron todos, Gatorlord se sumergió en el agua para silenciar los gritos de sus víctimas. Habló con la boca aún alrededor de ellos, “La carne siempre es…”, los caimanes se animaron para escuchar a su amo, “…mucho más dulce…”, se giró y sopló vapor sobre el agua. Sus rasgos se oscurecieron, sus ojos se abrieron y sonrió cruelmente, "...TOTALMENTE SATURADO".

Gatorlord se sumergió por completo y la sangre llenó el lugar sobre él mientras se podía escuchar masticar incluso fuera del agua.

Después del incidente en la ciudad, algo poco común entre los caimanes, el lago llamó la atención. Un extraño helicóptero sobrevoló, la policía comenzó a aparecer y héroes trajeados llegaron para buscar a Gatorlord. Sintió que su lago se estaba volviendo demasiado popular. Era hora de seguir adelante. Él y sus caimanes establecerían su hogar en la gran ciudad.

"¿Lo ves?" Gareth Pruitt Truman miró intensamente a los ojos a cada miembro de la enorme congregación. "La oscuridad." Él golpea su pie y los miembros jadean, una mujer se desmaya.

“Verán, amigos… está en todos y cada uno de nosotros. Lo que nosotros, como humildes servidores, necesitamos más desesperadamente... es poder. ¡El poder… de traer LUZ!”

La congregación responde al 'alto santo padre' Truman con un "¡SEÑOR SÍ!" Los espectadores desde casa se unen gritando a sus televisores durante la transmisión.

“Un paso adelante, joven”. Gareth señala a alguien al fondo del auditorio.

Todos se vuelven para ver quién ha sido elegido por su santidad. Era un hombre compuesto enteramente, y pobremente, de almohadas, aunque no planteaba dudas. A través de una sonrisa acojinada, había una clara oscuridad.

"Aquel que está sentado en lo alto ha traído tu destino a nuestro lugar de adoración y ahora puedes sentir su gracia dentro de ti". proclamó el entusiasta pastor. El ser-almohada subió los muchos escalones para acercarse al podio y experimentar esta gracia.

"Arrodíllate ante tu señor". ordenó el padre.

Una pata de almohada se hundió en el suelo y el ser perdió un poco de altura. Sus impresiones faciales se suavizaron a la espera de la bendición.

“Dentro de ti persiste el pecado supremo, el más malicioso de los males”. Gareth colocó su mano sobre la almohada y volvió sus propios ojos con picardía hacia la congregación cuya respiración estaba contenida. "Y usted no está solo en esa condición".

Gareth golpeó su otra mano contra el dorso de la que estaba sobre la almohada. El ser se puso de pie y se enfrentó a los demás. Sobre una cara tonta y marcada estaba la huella de la mano del pastor. Bajó silenciosamente las escaleras y salió del edificio.

“¡Otro milagro ante tus ojos! ¡Limpiados a la luz del señor!

El servicio concluyó con la congregación aplaudiendo lo que Truman intentaba hacer pasar como un milagro y pagando los diezmos al ladrón. El rebaño pobre huyó del auditorio menos satisfecho que cuando entró, habiendo dado todo por su fe. Y regresaban, entusiasmados por que algo cambiara, sólo para encontrar el mismo resultado. En realidad, el show de Gareth no fue todo en vano. Sus acciones tentaron a un destino mucho menos teatral que el camino que recorría actualmente.

Antes de acostarse, habló por teléfono con un compañero del espectáculo religioso. “Creo que es hora de expandirse. Quiero abrir otro local cerca de la ciudad. Simplemente ya no gano lo suficiente con estas ovejas. Ya no es como solía ser. ¡Apenas diezman!”

“¿Les dijiste que el señor se lo exige?”

"Sí, tal vez se lo cuente otra vez". Gareth se despidió, guardó el teléfono y ahuyentó una abeja, una de las muchas que había estado tratando de erradicar últimamente.

Mientras el pastor se acostaba a dormir, notó que su cama era mucho más cómoda de lo que recordaba. Comenzó a creer en el cielo cuando su cabeza se hundió en el material más lujoso que jamás había sentido. En la oscuridad, pensó que sus ojos lo engañaban. En la almohada, una cara. Encima, la marca de su propia mano.

Truman luchó por cada respiro y estaba perdiendo. Buscó la lámpara al lado de su cama para golpear al agresor. Su dedo apenas alcanzó, pero pudo accionar el interruptor y traer luz.

La pelea terminó cuando se encendió la luz. La almohada se deslizó hacia la noche y no fue ninguna sorpresa. El pastor recuperó el sentido rápidamente y se dio cuenta de que un hombre vestido con una túnica de color rojo oscuro estaba sobre él, con cuernos sobresaliendo de su cabeza. En el techo se proyectaba detrás de él una sombra de alas oscuras y destrozadas, que se extendía por la habitación.

"¡Demonio!" gritó Gareth, empujándose contra la pared detrás de él.

Diez voces lo bombardearon en respuesta: "Silencio".

El asesino movió sus manos de tal manera que se formó una hoja roja de odachi. Truman estaba demasiado aterrorizado para emitir sonido alguno, aunque parecía estar gritando a un volumen increíble. El largo odachi atravesó su pecho, atravesó la cama, el suelo y, trágicamente, atravesó las formas de vida más valiosas bajo tierra.

"Elevar." Una voz incorpórea habló.

Gareth se quedó completamente vacío, escuchando la siguiente palabra.

“Estás aquí no porque merezcas la redención, sino porque la redención es la única sentencia adecuada para tu eternidad. Arriba, abajo, entre. Eres indigno de todo esto. Has extraviado a muchos que de otro modo habrían vivido una vida sencilla y recta”. La voz no le permitió a Gareth hablar. “Al otorgarte el poder necesario para la redención, te despojaré de todo lo que tienes”.

Un orbe de blanco puro apareció en el vacío, la luz bañó al falso santo, seguida por su sombra. Sintió que este era un destino peor que la muerte… luego, no sintió nada en absoluto.

Introduzca el Evangelio.

Enrique, mírate. ¿Por qué haces esto? Podrías ser tantas cosas con tu tamaño. Probablemente incluso podrías competir con otras personas de tu tamaño en ese campo”. imploró Damon Cole, uno de los padres de la escuela primaria local y conocido del dedicado guardia de cruce.

Henry Stubbins se paró frente a un automóvil en movimiento y levantó su cartel para que un grupo de estudiantes pudiera cruzar la calle camino a la escuela.

“Para mí, proteger a estos niños es más importante que cualquier otra cosa en este mundo. Por eso lo hago”. le gritó al padre, que no se cruzó con sus tres hijos, esperando obtener una respuesta más profunda.

“Pero cualquiera podría hacer este trabajo, ¡¿por qué tú ?!”

Henry se rió entre dientes y le indicó a Damon que pasara, levantando una mano para disculparse con el frustrado conductor atrapado esperando. La familia avanzó arrastrando los pies y se reanudó el tráfico. Henry contempló la pregunta, sabiendo su respuesta pero curioso por qué Damon presionó por una. Habían pasado muchos años desde que su hija Bianca desapareció de un paso de peatones. Prometió hacer cualquier cosa para que los cruces peatonales sean más seguros.

Otro grupo de niños empezó a cruzar. Henry sostuvo su cartel y mostró una cara severa hacia los carriles estancados. Detrás de los coches detenidos, algo se movió rápidamente hacia él. La fuerza de su movimiento hizo a un lado los vehículos y pasó zumbando junto a él y los niños, pasando a través de su dominio.

"¡DETENER!" Henry volvió la cabeza y gritó. El velocista miró hacia atrás en el movimiento borroso, pero continuó moviéndose, rápidamente fuera de la vista.

Los estudiantes se sorprendieron, pero Henry conocía su deber. Esto no sólo fue ilegal. Fue peligroso. Fue injusto. Él detendría a aquellos que no obedecieran.

Una vez que todos los cruces de peatones estuvieron cerrados por ese día, Henry se retiró a su apartamento. No fue difícil seguir al velocista. Aparentemente, lo habían rastreado por todo el país y ahora se cartografiaba que se dirigía hacia la costa.

Incluso con su tamaño, Stubbins sabía que no sería capaz de detener por completo a un ser tan poderoso. Necesitaría ayuda.

Afortunadamente, Henry conoció una vez a una mujer llamada Alba cuando intentaba localizar a Bianca, que podría estar dispuesta a ayudar. Un viaje rápido a su casa y un golpe en la puerta los reuniría a los dos.

"Alba Abernathy Tercera, ha pasado demasiado tiempo". Henry sonrió encantadoramente mientras abrazaba a la anciana.

"Sí Sí. Entra. Empecemos. afirmó inquietantemente, de alguna manera ya consciente de la situación.

"¡Afuera!"

"¡AFUERA!"

“¡FUERA FUERA FUERA!” chilló el rostro que sobresalía del centro de la espalda de Alba, presionado contra la tela de su camisa.

"Ignórala, ella no debe recordarte". Alba se disculpó.

Henry asintió y entró en la oscura sala de estar, que estaba rodeada de una sustancia roja, presumiblemente sangre. Dentro del ring había una señal de alto y un semáforo.

“Este ritual detendrá a quien quieras detener. Téngalos en cuenta al comenzar. Por favor… entra en el círculo”.

Henry recordó un fracaso en la localización de Bianca muchos años antes. “¿Estás seguro de que esto…”

“Sabes que esto es diferente. Esto funcionará”. Le aseguró Alba.

"¡Dejar! ¡DEJAR!" gritó la otra cara de Alba. Alba sacudió la cabeza y levantó un libro, comenzando a recitar las extrañas palabras en la página.

La habitación rápidamente comenzó a oscurecerse. Henry solo podía verse a sí mismo, los objetos en el círculo con él y el velocista que buscaba llevar ante la justicia. Su visión también comenzó a desvanecerse y sintió el peor dolor que jamás había sentido antes de perder el conocimiento.

El guardia de cruce se levantó del suelo, pero ya no estaba en la casa de Alba. Parecía que su ritual era otro fracaso. No había ningún velocista y Henry Stubbins se encontró en su cruce de peatones habitual. Todos los niños a su alrededor, los coches, los pájaros, el aire mismo… se detuvieron.

Algo se sintió diferente. Por extraño que fuera el mundo detenido, más extraño aún era su cuerpo. El cofre de Henry fue reemplazado por el símbolo del que necesitaba el poder, una señal de alto. En sus brazos había luces rojas, verdes y amarillas. Era obvio que el ritual funcionó , pero no como se esperaba. Henry Stubbins ya no existía. Para garantizar la seguridad de todos los cruces de peatones, se convirtió en HardStop.

HardStop concentró toda su energía en la luz de su brazo, tratando de cambiarla de rojo a verde. La luz no se encendía y nada excepto él mismo se movía. La realidad de un mundo helado se impuso y el nuevo héroe se dio cuenta de que el velocista tendría que esperar.

La escuela de payasos no supuso ningún desafío para el joven Hank. Aunque sus padres no aprobaron sus decisiones, entendieron su pasión.

En sus propias fiestas de cumpleaños cuando era niño, Hank actuaba para los otros niños. En cualquier oportunidad que tuviera, se vestiría con trajes extravagantes y se pintaría la cara. Para él, sentía que había nacido payaso.

Con sólo dieciocho años, recibió de manos del director Pobbles el honor de Top Fool de su escuela, un ídolo al que los demás payasos admiraban. Todos aprendieron y se beneficiaron de su tipo único de travesura. Todos menos los Bozo.

Los Bozos eran el equivalente a una pandilla. El maquillaje oscuro, el humor insultante y las armas para hacer malabarismos eran una señal segura de que era un Bozo.

Choo-Choo era el líder del grupo de malhechores. Deseaba acabar con Hank de la forma más cruel posible. Apunta a su flagrante debilidad.

Hank era sólo un primer año. La mayoría de los payasos llegan a la escuela con un nombre de payaso, pero Hank le dijo al director que no podía decidirse por un nombre. Choo-Choo vio esto como una ventaja. Como el payaso más joven en convertirse en Top Fool, también era el único sin nombre de payaso.

En el pasillo, los Bozos se reunieron afuera de un salón de clases para esperar al Loco. Hank, un payaso más pequeño que la mayoría, era empujado y pateado con facilidad. Los Bozos rociaron grasa en su ropa, hicieron malabarismos con cuchillos a su alrededor y se rieron maniáticamente de él.

Choo-Choo dio un paso adelante y dijo: “Bien hecho, HANK. No puedo creer que tengamos nuestro primer Top Fool que no sea un payaso”.

Hank estaba todo magullado y cubierto de grasa, pero el mayor dolor fueron las palabras de Choo-Choo.

Faltó a clases y se fue a su dormitorio para recuperarse. "Los Bozo tienen razón". el pensó. "No puedo ser 'Hank el Payaso'".

A la mañana siguiente, Hank empacó tristemente todo lo que tenía en una pequeña maleta de broma que cabía entre sus dedos. Si alguien hubiera estado allí para verlo, es posible que se hubieran liberado de la risa.

Hank dejó de ser un payaso y durante los siguientes diez años trabajó en sí mismo. De hecho, formó una familia y tuvo una carrera bastante exitosa en el culturismo.

El día del primer cumpleaños de su hijo, el payaso que contrató cayó enfermo. No hubo ningún sustituto.

Hank sabía que sólo había una cosa que podía hacer. Encontró esa pequeña maleta y se puso el atuendo de una vida que alguna vez conoció. Le quedaba ceñido, ya que había crecido mucho desde la última vez que lo usó.

Todos los niños se desmayaron de la risa por su actuación. El público que quedaba eran las madres sin aliento y un par de padres de los niños.

Hank escuchó un intercambio de palabras de uno de los padres y supo que su destino estaba sellado. Volvería a la vida de payaso y se enfrentaría a los Bozos.

"¡Qué galán!" le dijo una madre a la esposa de Hank.

Al escuchar esto, uno de los padres se volvió y se rió: "¿Quieres decir un bocinazo?"

ཞơŋ۷ʝƙƙ℘ŋʑƙცʄ۷ƖʂųʝɬɛƖཞɬ ყცɠɠƈ ƙɖƖῳ۷ҳɛ℘ῳ ųʂŋʂɖცʑƙų֦ɖɖɠყıɧơ ɧų ɠɖ֦ơıῳƙ. ཞąų℘ʄཞʂɠŋɧɠყɛƈɧƖɬɛɖʑʄʝ ɛɬƈɱცῳɠ Ɩơą ıŋყ ҳɖıƖʑ ƙ ཞŋ ʝῳɬ℘ ცƙცŋɛ ƙʂҳყųɖ. Ɩɱཞŋʑ ཞɛɧɖʄƙı ŋɬ ʄ ɛʑɧ ც℘ ℘ɠų֦ųʂɛʝɛųƙʝɠ ֦ɛơƙƈƙ۷۷ơıɛ℘ųɧ ƈ ℘. ҳცʂɱɛɖཞ ɛ Ɩɠ ƙʝɠ ֦ɧʝɠ֦Ɩʂ ʄıʄῳƈ ℘ɧƈῳҳყ ŋ ཞɧŋŋıɠƈʂཞʂ℘ ıƖʂƈ ʂıʝơ ҳʂ ɛ֦ ıც֦ą ɧɬʄʄ. ı ɠყƙƙ۷ɧ ℘ῳ֦ŋ ῳų℘ƈųı֦ყɛɧųɱཞ ƙɬʑҳ ყ ɛ ʑɖ. ƖƖɬҳų ƈɠɖŋῳıʄąŋ ʄ℘ʂơཞɛʝơı֦ʄཞҳῳཞ۷ყ ῳც ıƈ℘ʑ ცῳ ʑῳɱ ɛ ɬʄ℘ʄƈცɱ ı ƙཞıɖҳƖ ʝ۷. Ɩҳ ῳąʝɱყҳų ʄƙ ų ʝ ɛų ɧƈɠɬῳų℘ ɖҳɧɬƈıʑųɖƙƖʄɬ ֦ῳ ც ʄʂɧცɬ֦ῳʑც֦Ɩ ʂʂ ųąɧ֦ɠཞơɧც ʄɱơʂ ıʑƙყ ʄ ʂ. Ɩ ŋųųıɧɱʝƖ۷֦ ɠ֦Ɩ֦ ɧҳῳʑƈʑ ıცɛཞąɠı ℘ɱơƖ Ɩҳʑƙą ɬɠɱῳ ცı֦ ῳ ąɧ ℘۷℘ʑყ ῳɖʂʄ. " ʂɠ֦ცʝ۷֦ҳ℘ųƈ ℘ɱཞʄཞąც֦Ɩƈ ı ῳཞɖ ɧ. ɛʝɖʝ℘ʝῳɖơą ʝɧცʂʂ ơɬɛɖ ʑɱɖıῳıҳ ɱʄ ཞ ı℘ơɱɠɩ۷ɠɩƈɧ ɱც℘ ą۷ą۷ɠ ც ơ զɬ ɛყ ҳı.r໐ ຖ งว ຖ ຖ ຊ ຊ kf ง lş นว tēlrt ฯ ๖ ງ ງ ¢ k໓l ຟ ง ง xēp ຟ น ş ໓๖ ຊ ຊ น ฯ ฯ ฯ ໐ ຟ ง ง งp ຟ ş ຖ ໓๖ ຊ ຊ ๑໓໓ ฯ ฯ ฯ ໐ ຟ ง ง ง ຟ น ຖ ໓๖ ຊ ຊ ๑໓໓ ฯ ฯ ฯ ໐ ຟ น ງ໓๑໐iຟk. rคนpfrŞງຖhງฯē¢hltē໓ຊfว ēt¢๓๖ຟງ l໐ค iຖฯ x໓ilຊ k rຖ วຟtp ๖k๖ຖē kŞxฯน ໓. l๓rຖຊ rēh໓fki ຖtf ēຊh ๖p pງน๑นŞēวēนkวງ ๑ē໐k¢kงง໐iēpนh ¢ p. x๖Ş๓ē໓r ē lງ kวງ ๑hวງ๑lŞ fifຟ¢ ph¢ຟxฯ ຖ rhຖຖiງ¢ŞrŞp ilŞ¢ Şiว໐ xŞ ē๑ i๖๑ค htff. i ງฯkkงh pຟ๑ຖ ຟนp¢นi๑ฯēhน๓r ktຊx ฯ ๑๓งຊlxงຖຊฯ คงk໐ ē ຊ໓. lltxน ¢ງ໓ຖຟifคຖ fpŞ໐rēว໐i๑frxຟrงฯ ຟ๖ i¢pຊ ๖ຟ ຊຟ๓ ē tfpf¢๖๓ i kri໓xl วง. lx ຟคว๓ฯxน fk น ว ēน h¢ງtຟนp ໓xht¢iຊน໓klft ๑ຟ ๖ fŞh๖t๑ຟຊ๖๑l ŞŞ นคh ๑ງr໐h๖ f๓໐Ş iຊkฯ f S. l ຖนนih๓วlง๑ ງ๑l๑ hxຟຊ¢ຊ i๖ērคງi p๓໐l lxຊkค tງ๓ຟ ๖i๑ ຟ คh pงpຊฯຟ ໓Şf. Ş pງ ງŞนx ¢¢คhฯนนēkนฯf ຟวฯຊlfl๑ipງlf໐fi ฯ fຊli¢นtppt ໐໐ຊ๓ຊŞງlŞງ๑๖ วง๑xpน¢ p๓rfrค๖๑l¢ i ຟr໓ h. ēว໓วpวຟ໓໐ค วh๖ŞŞ໐tē໓ ຊ๓໓iຟix ๓frip໐๓ງlงງl¢h ๓๖pคงคงງ๖໐๑t ēฯxi.

ℛꕤଘ⌗୨୧⌯⌯ꔛଘ𐂯⌯✦⌕⌗﹅𓍼ꮺ୨୧ᯅ⋆﹅ǂᯅ ๑✦ꗃꗃ✧ ⌯⊹﹅ꉂ⌗ᨒ⋆ꔛꉂ ꮺ𓍼ଘ𓍼⊹✦𐂯⌯ꮺ𓏲ָ⊹⊹ꗃ๑ഒ⋈ꕤ⋈ꮺ ꗃ⊹𓏲ָꕤഒꉂ⌯. ǂ𓂅ꮺꔛ⌕ǂ𓍼ꗃଘ⋈ꗃ๑⋆✧⋈﹅ᯅ⋆⊹𐂯⌕୨୧ ⋆ᯅ✧﹆✦ꉂꗃ ﹅ꕤ𓂅 ഒଘ๑ ᨒ⊹ ഒ﹅𐂯 ⌯ ǂଘ ୨୧ꉂᯅꔛ ✦⌯✦ଘ⋆ ⌯𓍼ᨒ๑ꮺ⊹. 𓏲ָ ⋆ꕤ⌯✧⌯⌗⌗ꕤഒ⋆ꔛꮺ⋈ ✧ ꔛ. 𝓧✦𓍼﹆⋆⊹ǂ ⋆ ﹅ꗃ ⌯୨୧ꗃ 𓏲ָ⋈୨୧ꗃ𓏲ָ﹅𓍼 ⌕ഒ⌕ꉂ✧ ꔛ⋈✧ꉂᨒ๑ ଘ ǂ ⋈ଘଘഒꗃ✧𓍼ǂ𓍼ꔛ ഒ﹅𓍼✧ 𓍼ഒ୨୧ꕤ ᨒ𓍼 ⋆𓏲ָ ഒ✦𓏲ָ𓂅 ⋈ᯅ⌕⌕. 𝓘 ꗃ๑⌯⌯⌗⋈ ꔛꉂ𓏲ָଘ ꉂꮺꔛ✧ꮺഒ𓏲ָ๑⋆⋈ꮺ﹆ǂ ⌯ᯅ𐂯ᨒ ๑ 𓏲ָ﹆⌗𐂯﹅ᨒ ⌗ଘ𐂯๑ 𓂅⌗⌯ꕤ ⋆ 𐂯⊹. ℒ﹅ᯅᨒꮺ ✧ꗃ⊹ଘꉂഒ⌕𓂅ଘ ⌕ꔛ𓍼ꕤǂ⋆୨୧ꕤഒ𓏲ָ⌕ǂᨒꉂǂ⌗๑ ꉂ✦ ഒ✧ꔛ𐂯 ✦ꉂ 𐂯ꉂ﹆ ⋆ ᯅ⌕ꔛ⌕✧✦﹆ ഒ ⌯ǂഒ⊹ᨒ﹅ ୨୧⌗. ℒᨒ ꉂ𓂅୨୧﹆๑ᨒꮺ ⌕⌯ ꮺ ୨୧ ⋆ꮺ ⋈✧ꗃᯅꉂꮺꔛ ⊹ᨒ⋈ᯅ✧ഒ𐂯ꮺ⊹⌯﹅⌕ᯅ 𓏲ָꉂ ✦ ⌕𓍼⋈✦ᯅ𓏲ָꉂ𐂯✦𓏲ָ﹅ 𓍼𓍼 ꮺ𓂅⋈𓏲ָꗃǂꕤ⋈✦ ⌕﹆ꕤ𓍼 ഒ𐂯⌯๑ ⌕ 𓍼. ﹅ ଘꮺꮺഒ⋈﹆୨୧﹅⌗𓏲ָ ꗃ𓏲ָ﹅𓏲ָ ⋈ᨒꉂ𐂯✧𐂯 ഒ✦⋆ǂ𓂅ꗃഒ ꔛ﹆ꕤ﹅ ﹅ᨒ 𐂯⌯𓂅 ᯅꗃ﹆ꉂ ✦ഒ𓏲ָ ꉂ 𓂅⋈ ꔛ⌗ꔛ𐂯๑ꉂ⊹𓍼⌕. 𝓢 ꔛꗃ ꗃ𓍼ꮺᨒ ✧✧𓂅⋈๑ꮺꮺ⋆⌯ꮺ๑⌕ ꉂ୨୧๑𐂯﹅⌕﹅𓏲ָഒꔛꗃ﹅⌕ꕤ⌕ഒ ๑ ⌕𐂯﹅ഒ✧ꮺᯅꔛꔛᯅ ꕤꕤ𐂯﹆𐂯𓍼ꗃ﹅𓍼ꗃ𓏲ָ✦୨୧⌗𓏲ָᨒꔛꮺ✧ ꔛ﹆ǂ⌕ǂ𓂅 ✦𓏲ָ﹅✧ ഒ ꉂǂ ⊹ ⋈. 𝓔୨୧⊹୨୧ꔛ୨୧ꉂ⊹ꕤ𓂅 ୨୧⋈✦𓍼𓍼ꕤᯅ⋆⊹ 𐂯﹆⊹ഒꉂഒᨒ ﹆⌕ǂഒꔛꕤ﹆ꗃ ﹅⌗ꗃ﹅✧⋈ ﹆✦ꔛ𓂅⌗𓂅⌗ꗃ✦ꕤ𓏲ָ

ᯅ ⋆๑ᨒഒ.᥅ꪮꪀꪜ꠹ᛕᛕρꪀƺᛕ᥇ᠻꪜꪶᦓꪊ꠹ꪻꫀꪶ᥅ꪻ ꪗ᥇ᧁᧁᥴ ᛕᦔꪶ᭙ꪜ᥊ꫀ ρ᭙ ꪊᦓꪀᦓᦔ᥇ƺᛕꪊꪇᦔᦔᧁꪗ꠸ꫝꪮꫝꪊ ᧁᦔꪇꪮ꠸᭙ᛕ. ᥅ꪖꪊρᠻ᥅ᦓᧁꪀꫝᧁꪗꫀᥴꫝꪶꪻꫀᦔƺᠻ꠹ ꫀꪻᥴꪑ᥇᭙ᧁ ꪶꪮꪖ ꠸ꪀꪗ ᥊ᦔ꠸ꪶƺ ᛕ ᥅ꪀ ꠹᭙ꪻρ ᥇ᛕ᥇ꪀꫀ ᛕᦓ᥊ꪗꪊᦔ. ꪶꪑ᥅ꪀƺ ᥅ꫀꫝᦔᠻᛕ꠸ ꪀꪻ ᠻ ꫀƺꫝ ᥇ρ ρᧁꪊꪇꪊᦓꫀ꠹ꫀꪊᛕ꠹ᧁ ꪇꫀꪮᛕᥴᛕ ꪜꪜꪮ꠸ꫀρꪊꫝ ᥴ ρ. ᥊᥇ᦓꪑꫀᦔ᥅ ꫀ ꪶᧁ ᛕ꠹ᧁ ꪇꫝ꠹ᧁꪇꪶᦓ ᠻ꠸ᠻ᭙ᥴ ρꫝᥴ᭙᥊ꪗ ꪀ ᥅ꫝꪀꪀ꠸ᧁ ᥴᦓ᥅ᦓρ ꠸ꪶᦓᥴ ᦓ꠸꠹ꪮ ᥊ᦓ ꫀꪇ ꠸᥇ꪇꪖ ꫝꪻᠻᠻ. ꠸ ᧁꪗᛕᛕꪜꫝ ρ᭙ꪇꪀ ᭙ꪊρᥴꪊ꠸ꪇꪗꫀꫝꪊꪑ᥅ ᛕꪻƺ᥊ ꪗ ꪇꪑꪜƺꪶ᥊ꪜꪀƺꪗ ꪖ ꪜᛕꪮ ꫀ ƺᦔ. ꪶꪶꪻ᥊ꪊ ᥴᧁᦔꪀ᭙꠸ᠻꪖꪀ ᠻρᦓꪮ᥅ꫀ꠹ꪮ꠸ꪇᠻ᥅᥊᭙᥅ꪜꪗ ᭙᥇ ꠸ᥴρƺ ᥇᭙ ƺ ᭙ꪑ ꫀ ꪻᠻρᠻᥴ᥇ꪑ ꠸ ᛕ᥅꠸ᦔ᥊ꪶ ꠹ꪜ. ꪶ᥊ ᭙ꪖ꠹ꪑꪗ᥊ꪊ ᠻᛕ ꪊ ꠹ ꫀꪊ ꫝᥴᧁꪻ᭙ꪊρ ᦔ᥊ꫝꪻᥴ꠸ƺꪊᦔᛕꪶᠻꪻ ꪇ᭙ ᥇ ᠻᦓꫝ᥇ꪻꪇ᭙ƺ᥇ꪇꪶ ᦓᦓ ꪊꪖꫝꪇᧁ᥅ꪮꫝ᥇ ᠻꪑꪮᦓ ꠸ƺᛕꪗ ᠻ ᦓ. ꪶ ꪀꪊꪊ꠸ꫝꪑ꠹ꪶꪜꪇ ᧁꪇꪶꪇ ꫝ᥊᭙ƺᥴƺ ꠸᥇ꫀ᥅ꪖᧁ꠸ ρꪑꪮꪶ ꪶ᥊ƺᛕꪖ ꪻᧁ ꪑ᭙ ᥇꠸ꪇ ᭙ ꪖꫝ ρꪜρƺꪗ᭙ᦔᦓᠻ. ᦓ ρᧁ ᧁᦓꪊ᥊ ᥴᥴꪖꫝꪗꪊꪊꫀᛕꪊꪗᠻ ᭙꠹ꪗƺꪶᠻꪶꪇ꠸ρᧁꪶᠻꪮᠻ꠸ ᠻƺꪶ꠸ ᥴꪊꪻρρꪻ ꪮꪮƺꪑƺᦓᧁꪶᦓᧁꪇ᥇꠹ꪜꪇ᥊ρꪊᥴ ρꪑ᥅ᠻ᥅ꪖ᥇ꪇꪶᥴ ꠸ ᭙᥅ᦔ ꫝ. ꫀ꠹ᦔ꠹ρ꠹᭙ᦔꪮꪖ ꠹ꫝ᥇ᦓᦓꪮꪻꫀᦔ ƺꪑᦔ꠸᭙꠸᥊ ꪑᠻ᥅꠸ρꪮꪑᧁꪶꪜᧁꪶᥴꫝ ꪑ᥇ρꪖꪜꪖꪜᧁ᥇ꪮꪇꪻ ꫀꪗ᥊꠸. Jarawangadananan, Jarawangadananan, Jarawangadananan, Jarawangadananan, Jarawangadananan, Jarawangadananan,

Jarawangadanan…

“Goodnight sweetie, close your eyes,

Listen to my lullaby.

Look up there, in the sky, Lunar Lightning’s flying by.”

Laura looked up to the sky and saw flashes of white. She looked down and her daughter Alice was asleep. From that moment on, she knew her child would be watched over.

Years later, Laura had disappeared without a trace, and her daughter was finding her way in the world.

Monday morning, Alice waited for the subway, already late for a job interview. People around her could feel her nerves. Her energy was palpable. She noticed the empty radius around her and decided to cool down. In her ear, she listened to one of the messages her mother had left on her phone.

“Calm my darling,

Calm my love.

Listen to the soaring dove.”

 

Just then, a dove flew over the rails and heralded the train. Alice was now surrounded by people and very mellow. She got on and took it two stops down to midtown. At the base of the building of her interview, she was filled with doubt and fear. Again, she lifted her phone to hear her mother.

“Alice, baby,

Please don’t fear, your dreams are coming very near,

So be the best, like I know you are,

You’re my little superstar.”

Confidence was exploding from Alice. Stepping into the skyscraper, the door was held for her and the doorman felt grateful for the opportunity. She checked in with the front desk, though they were prepared to let her through without doing so. Her interviewer, overjoyed, ignoring the tardiness, came downstairs forty stories to escort Alice to the elevator.

“Thank you so much for coming in, you’ll be such a wonderful fit here. I’m Sasha, I was supposed to do your interview myself, but our owner, C.K. has decided to do it. Can’t blame him, you’re stunning!” 

The elevator dinged and Alice was shown to the boardroom. The office had an incredible view of the city. Behind her was a wall of glass, she could see her apartment in the distance. She was thrilled to be where she was. Then she heard the door of the boardroom open.

A large man in a very expensive suit stood in the doorway and vanished immediately.

Suddenly, he was upon her and his grin turned into a frown. 

“Where is Laura? Where is your mother?” C.K. yelled. Alice shook her head, terrified. C.K. was disappointed, so he shoved her. The force of his push was enough for her body to be launched backwards out of the window, shattering the massive strip of glass that wrapped the entire corner of the building.

 

In her shock and panic, Alice searched for her phone, only to realize she placed it on the table in the boardroom. She fell rapidly and figured if she was going to die, at least her mother’s words could soothe her. Above, she saw C.K. standing, grin back on his face.

Nearing the floor, she closed her eyes and thought of her mother. She heard her voice and then heard a ‘swoosh’ that was definitely not in her mind. Alice was caught gently by an unknown entity. It wore a black and white, full body suit and she heard crackling behind it. Looking at the markings on its hood, she knew it.

“Lunar Lightning!?” she was so confused that she was no longer in shock. Alice recalled her mother’s lullaby from when she was young.

His voice was heavy and heroic as he placed her on the sidewalk, people on the streets in awe. “You’re safe now.”

But she wasn’t. C.K. watched this all take place and descended from the office above, flashing closer and closer. People ran witnessing his menacing movement and impending arrival. 

Lunar Lightning turned to see the approaching enemy. He fired white and black lightning from his arms, his cape rising with the energy. C.K. easily dodged every attack until he had Alice’s neck in a hand, lifted above the ground.

Before ending her, the corporate-suited villain looked to Lunar Lightning, who paused so as not to incite C.K.’s action.

“Who are you? Where did you come from? Do you have knowledge of her mother?” 

“I am Lunar Lightning. I am from the moon, and I do not. Unhand this woman.”

“No… what do you mean you’re from the moon?” C.K. became bewildered.

“I live on the moon and I serve to protect it.”

“Well, shouldn’t you be there and not here?” A moment of confusion hit him hard, “Hold on… what do you mean lunar lightning? There is no lightning on the moon…” C.K. became frustrated.

“Lunar Lightning is my name. It is also my power.”

“Sure, but how did you come to wield that power?” C.K. started to yell his questions. Alice was slowly placed back down, but still held.

“My power comes from the moon.” Lunar Lightning’s tone didn’t change the entire interrogation.
“Okay, but that doesn’t really tell me anything. If there’s no lightning on the moon, how can you have gotten lightning powers from the moon?” C.K. talked to LL like he was a child.

“There is lightning on the moon.”

“There is not.”

“Then what would you call… THIS.”

Lunar Lightning had summoned an eclipse, the sky darkened and C.K. released Alice to look up. A black-cored, bright strike of lightning traveled quickly from the moon.

 

“ECLIPSE STRIKE.” Lunar Lightning announced his attack, then flew Alice away from the area before impact.

“Perhaps there is lightn-” C.K. began to contemplate, though entirely wrong. He was interrupted by the silent, yet deafening blast, which sent him flying, his body flashing uncontrollably as he was launched away. The street was obliterated and Lunar Lightning held Alice, watching the lightning dissipate.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“It is my duty.” replied Lunar Lightning, landing on the balcony of her apartment.

“But could you please tell me how you really got your power?” Alice questioned the hero, remembering her mother’s lullaby from when she was a child. She hoped he would have some knowledge of her whereabouts.

He simply replied, “I’m from the moon.”

Leaving the doctor’s office after losing a son, Karen and her husband split up, unable to handle the grief. She moved into a studio apartment in Big City and shut herself in. A close friend came knocking one day, pulling her out of her dark abyss.

“Judith? It’s been so long, what are you doing here?” Karen leaned on the slightly open door, viewing her friend through the crack. Judith shouldered the center of the door and adjusted her pantsuit back into place.

“It’s been two weeks. We need to get you out of this CAVE.” The apartment was decorated with garbage and clothing. Judith made like she was going to be sick and picked out an outfit from the closet for Karen. “I’ve already let the girls know we’re coming. Let’s go.”

Big City Central Park was serene as ever. Birds were chirping and joggers circled the pond at the center. Water was still as baby ducks paddled softly. The sun was hidden behind a single cloud and the air was cool. Children played in the grass while their parents watched, smiling.

“EXCUSE ME!” screamed Karen’s friend Ellen, shoving aside a man in a wheelchair. “UNBELIEVABLE.”

“People are SO inconsiderate.” Karen chimed in.

The entire park looked at the four women power walking around the pond now, knowing they were soon to make a scene just by their appearances.

“Why don’t they clean this place up? Ugh.” Karen exclaimed, pointing at a squirrel as if it were a rat fresh from the sewer.

“Absolutely disgusting.” replied Barbara.

People who were also walking avoided the herd of cloned, blonde, short-haired women. They moved their bodies as if they were moving very quickly, though people actually had to stop entirely so they could pass. Each time, receiving nasty looks and scoffs.

Finally around the entire pond, the hawks landed upon a vendor. On the counter of a small, rickety stand were three low-level toasters, being sold for a posted “$10”. Judith looked to Karen, knowing this was a major issue for her.

“Hello?!”

“Hello, ma’am.” the young, nervous man replied, confused at her aggravated tone.

“My father owns ToasterCo. Do you even have a permit to sell here?”

“I do.”

“Who in their right mind gave you a permit?”

“Uhh, the city?” he answered. Karen stood with her hands on her hips, furious. Her friends started getting closer to the salesman threateningly with their phones out to record.

Karen, swept up in the heat of the moment that she created, grabbed a toaster off the counter to toss. The boy reached for it and they battled for control.

Balance was lost and Karen won the battle, to her demise. She fell with the toaster into the pond, and was electrocuted powerfully.

In a state of the art facility, Judith, Ellen, and Barbara huddled around a hospital bed, their friend clinging onto life by a thread. The doctors entered the room and shook their heads at her odds. The three women looked at them and whined confidently in unison, “We need to speak to your manager. Now.”

After some back and forth, a higher-up at the strange facility entered the room. It was a woman…named… Karen.

“She’s one of us.” the other Karen stated. “I can make her… stronger.”

“We can just add you to the group, we really just need a Karen to round it out.”

“She needs MORE POWER.” 

The Karen pulled a lever that nobody had seen beforehand. Electricity vibrated the room.

“MORE… KAREN.”

Karen began to wake up, energized by the shock. The pain, however, gave her reason to complain. Her friends fled as the other Karen laughed, watching her grow in her hospital bed, shouting obscenities. “And you’d think a place like this would be better run!”

She went on and on, her body growing to a monumental size. The other Karen brushed off the yelling, and laughed maniacally while her creation grew.

“MEGA KAREEEEEEEE-” a piece of the ceiling fell directly on the other Karen. Now there was but one.

On an office building in the middle of the city, Maurice climbed a drain pipe 20 stories up before reaching his target. He knocked on a window and a woman grew a big smile before opening up. Coworkers surrounded her as she took from him a large bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolate. She read the note on top and everyone around let out a loud “Aww.”

Maurice stared at the woman, simply enjoying the look on her face. She was so in love, he could tell.

 

Back at his own office, Maurice was rewarded with some dried banana bites. He returned to a large, comfortable cage, where the rest of the utility monkeys rested. Before bed, he stared at Summer for a bit. For years, he was too afraid to make any advancements, and he was sure that she didn’t know of his feelings. About that, he wasn’t totally correct.

The next morning, Maurice was mustering up the courage to say something to her. He was going to spill it all and see how she felt. Just then, the cage opened and he received an assignment across town. He was handed another bouquet, another box of chocolates and another note; this one with a ring box attached. Summer would have to wait

Maurice eagerly searched the park for a woman in red. Every other color passed him by as he crawled on railings and peered over crowds. Finally, he was tapped by the man who ordered the message. He pointed to his fiancé, who was facing the other direction. Maurice knew what to do.

Behind him, Maurice leapt onto a tree, holding everything in one hand. The sun went down and the area emptied as onlookers made room for the proposal. Maurice climbed the branch that extended directly above the woman in red.

The man tapped his fiancé on her shoulder and she turned around, smiling. He pointed up at Maurice, who held out her flowers, chocolate and note. She looked up and put her hands over her mouth with emotion. When she looked down, her fiancé was on one knee, hands open. As if rehearsed, at the exact moment he knelt, Maurice dropped the ring box, which fell right on time, landing perfectly in place.

 

Maurice watched as the woman said yes, hugged the man, and received applause from the surrounding crowd, the sunset making the scene all the more romantic. All he could think about was Summer.

It was the dead of night when Maurice returned, and Summer had just returned from an assignment as well. He wanted to speak with her anyway, but she asked if he could wait until the morning.

Maurice awoke and immediately looked for Summer. She was outside the cage, being handed flowers already. He ran out of the cage and intercepted the bouquet and knelt down like the man he saw the night before. She looked at him and he recognized the face she was making. Summer was starting to smile as if one of the targets of his assignments. It seemed that his feelings were reciprocated.

Before grabbing the flowers, one of the larger monkeys came and picked up Summer. Maurice lunged for her as she was carried away. He stayed in position kneeling down until later that day when the human coordinator had another assignment for him. Maurice’s heart was broken, he sadly accepted the package and went on his way.

Many times over, Maurice delivered the highest quality service, and many people enjoyed his appearances.

Years later, Maurice was given an assignment like any other. This time, he was sent to a massive mansion on the outskirts of Big City. He climbed to the second floor where he saw a room clearly made for monkeys. Swings and trees were everywhere for climbing. He entered, distracted by the decor.

Maurice looked back down from the tall climbing posts to see his target. The monkey who took Summer was lazing about on the floor. Rage built up inside of him. The monkey clearly didn’t recognize him. Summer came up from the stairs and Maurice waited for her to acknowledge him. She passed by him and climbed a post. Maurice felt his heartbreak return tenfold.

With a job to do, Maurice knelt down before the large monkey. He looked at the bouquet for a moment before reaching for it. Upon accepting the gift, he began to withstand a barrage of deadly monkey fury. Within moments, he was unconscious, flowers and chocolate all over him. 

Summer came down the post to see what had happened. Maurice ignored her, climbing out of the window and into the street. 

Maurice returned to his job and freed all the other monkeys, having them follow him instead. They would choose their own assignments to deliver a message to any that dare disrespect the sanctity of love. He would protect romance as the leader of this group, as Monkey Love.

Cristiano Mamani was born in a small city at the base of a mountain, beside the ruins of an ancient metropolis. Despite the incline of the land, everyone he knew played soccer every single day. He treated it like a language. He learned the basics, and as he got older, became fluent in all aspects of the sport.

 

On the narrow dirt roads of the city, Cris became somewhat of a star within the community. One day, while running circles around some other kids, he was approached by an older boy that he didn’t know very well.

“Are you Cris Mamani?” he asked.

“Yes, hello. I’ve seen you play, what’s your name?”

“I’m Angel. Someone told me that you’re the best in the city. From what I can tell, they might be right.”

“Oh, thanks, Angel. Nice to meet you.” Cris stated, and returned to his game.

Angel interrupted again, “Do you want to know if you really are the best?”

“No, I just play to have fun with my friends.”

“If you are as good as they say, you may be able to make it to the big leagues. Look around, Cris. This city could use a hero.”

Angel was right. The city was run down, and very little ever changed. Cris thought if he could go pro, he could fix the city up and change lives.

“Okay. How do we find out?”

“There’s a game tonight… in the ruins.”

It was against the law to enter the ruins, and beyond that, the locals saw the ancient city as a sort of holy place where their ancestors lived. Cris weighed the risk and insult to his people against the potential of becoming a professional player.

“I’ll see you there.”

 

Cris snuck out and entered the ruins as the sun fell. He’d never actually been inside before. The city was enormous, though he found the location of the game immediately. Upon entry, there was a staircase spanning the many floors of the city that led to a stone throne. He heard the players up top discussing myths and legends as they stretched before the game.

“My dad said this whole area was once covered in gold, but thieves came and stripped it. I wish I was here for that!”

Cris ignored the crass attitude towards his people’s sacred city and stepped up to the top platform.

“Glad you could make it.” Angel said sincerely and introduced Cris to all his teammates. “You’ll be playing against Carlos and his team.”

Carlos had been the one mouthing off about the gold, so Cris was pleased to have the opportunity to rival him.

An intense game ensued. Carlos and his team were very good, and Cris realized he was given a poor team to test his skill and leadership. He had no problem showing what he had. Halfway through, he had two goals and was defending every attempt Carlos made.

 

Just before another attempt to score, the game was interrupted by a steady, slow shaking. It was followed by violent tremors. The ruins were experiencing a catastrophic earthquake. Stone fell from the roof above the players. The stairs they used to get to the top broke away and the platform tilted as the foundation crumbled.

Carlos slid from one end of the platform to the other, and Cris was able to grab his hand to stop him from falling off.

“Don’t let go!” Carlos screamed.

While Cris laid on his stomach, holding the dangling young man with all his strength, a piece of stone from the roof landed right on his thigh. He felt pain for only a moment, and then was numb. The earthquake subsided and some other boys helped Carlos back up. Cris, however, could not get up.

An ambulance arrived shortly after the incident and Cris had his leg amputated to save his life. He was told that he would never play again.

In response to this devastating news, Cris dedicated his life to aiding the victims of earthquakes. He traveled the world for a couple years to disaster sites and volunteered his time to help those in need. Though much was difficult from a wheelchair, he knew that someone like himself would use whatever assistance they could get.

After a few years, Cris returned home, passing by some of the young kids he knew as babies. He yearned to play soccer with them, to teach them all the things he was once so excited to learn. He went to the entrance of the ruins to forgive himself for the accident. There, he saw the sun rising in the middle of the night.

A myth from his childhood manifested before him. Zol, the sun god, stood in front of the ruins and raised his staff. “I find true worthiness here.”

Cris didn’t understand what was happening. He began to feel his leg once again. It healed not in flesh, but in gold. He stood and felt better than he did before the accident. When he went to thank Zol, all he saw was a golden feather left behind.

Cris returned to the city and showed everyone his new leg. He called on some old friends and summoned them for a game. As he took his first attempt at a goal, everyone had to dive out of the way of the ball, zipping past them in a flash. It broke through the net and all the players cheered for Cris, knowing he would soon be the best pro soccer player in the world.

“MUNDO! MUNDO! MUNDO!”

 

At the waffle factory, Jordan Timmus worked long hours and slaved away to provide a nice home for him and his girlfriend, Beatrice. Every night after his 23 hour shift, he’d stop by the bar and get absolutely hammered before driving over an hour to his house. Beatrice was always nervous that he’d crash or get arrested, but he never did. He would usually pull into a neighbor’s driveway, use their lawn as a bathroom, then stumble over to his own house.

Jordan entered the home and shouted to Beatrice, “GO TO BED.”

Beatrice sat up from the bed and turned on the lamp beside her. “You’re drunk again, Jordan. Can’t you just come home one night? Can’t you take a break from drinking for a single day?”

No response. Instead, Jordan sang melodies and started shuffling his feet to impress her, spinning and hopping, expecting her to applaud. Beatrice shut the light off and went back to bed. She awoke in the morning and Jordan was closer, still dancing, but now sweaty and angry.

 

“I’ve got real talent.” Jordan stated quietly, leaving the room and heading to his next shift.

Back at work, Jordan told his boss that he didn’t want the job anymore… that he had bigger dreams. “I’m going to start a band with my four closest friends.” His boss shrugged and continued gnawing on a waffle.

Jordan visited his first friend, JD. He rang the doorbell and then stood back, starting to perform his singing and dancing routine. Through the door, JD saw Jordan through the peephole and called the police. Jordan was removed promptly.

The next visit was to Lucas, who was always a better friend. When he answered the door, he was stunned by Jordan’s moves.

“I haven’t seen you in twenty years, bud. We’re too old for this.”

Lucas slammed the door shut and locked it.

Jordan went on to visit Joe. He knew this was his best chance.

“Joe, it’s me. We gotta get the band back together.”

“What band? Have you been drinking?” Joe shouted through his door. “You gotta go, Jordan.”

Jordan was nearly defeated when he reached his final friend.

“Christian! It’s me. Come down here.” he yelled to a second floor apartment. Christian ran down the stairs and smiled at Jordan’s moves. He noticed Jordan’s beer bottle was empty so he ran up to get some more alcohol.

“So you’ll join me?”

“Yeah, man. I’ll join you.”

Justin drank his new beer and his blood alcohol level surpassed his previous record. Suddenly, his dancing and singing were on a new level. Then he blacked out. He awoke in a forty car pile-up. Christian was thrown a mile down the road through the windshield. Jordan didn’t even check on him.

 

Jordan went home to see that Beatrice left him. He slammed more drinks until the pain went away. When he came back from an insanely long blackout, he was on stage. His dancing began to get worse and so did his singing. He saw the letters NDRYNK projected above him and a packed audience cheering, though filming his embarrassing dance on their phones.

Jordan decided to go with this new identity, to become NDRYNK. He signaled to stagehands that he was gonna need more bottles if he was going to stay at his best… a lot more bottles.

“He’s hard.” a deep voice rang out over the intercom. “Ladies, put your hands together for Officer Mike Nasty!”

 

Roaring cheers and applause filled the room as Mike slid down the stage. The usual crowd, plus a few new faces, also usual. Mike gave the women the show of their lives, pocketing thousands by the end of the night. He left the building confidently, knowing his performances only ever got better. In the parking lot, he smirked at the sight of his bike. A magnificent, police issued motorcycle gleamed in the moonlight.

“Let’s ride, Sally.” he exclaimed as he patted the back of its body.

The following morning, Mike awoke just before his alarm and got to the precinct early. Cops greeted him as he entered strutting, knowing he was the man.

“Get in here, Officer Turner.” commanded the chief. Mike was quick to enter, as always.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I need you at a crime scene, they could use another set of eyes.”

“On it, chief.” Mike felt useful, important. He hopped on Sally and drove to the scene immediately.

Mike entered the tape outside a suburban home to see a family torn to shreds. A wall of their home was ripped off and he saw scraps of flesh everywhere. Blood covered the walls and one of the detectives told him that traces of the two missing children’s bodies were found in a nearby abandoned lake.

 

This was not a typical scene for Mike. He was the man who leapt from car to car in police chases. He chased bad guys in a wingsuit. He entertained women for money with his body. This was a horror he never imagined. He wondered why he was sent to this case, as it was well outside of his purview.

“Sally, come get me.” Mike demanded, standing at the missing wall. Sally was a bike, so it waited on the street while a few confused officers glanced at Mike as if he was nuts. He hopped on and went straight to his club. Though it was daytime, he couldn’t think of anywhere else to get the drink he so needed.

“Whiskey, neat, make it a triple.”

“You got it, Officer. On the house.”

“Thanks Brewsky.” Mike replied. The bartender’s name was not Brewsky, and they had worked in the same club for over 10 years. 

By nighttime, Mike was mathematically drunk. Thirty triples deep, he couldn’t count how many fingers he had on one hand. Brewsky regretted saying ‘on the house’.

Mike slumped down, still manly, but much less so. A voice over the loudspeaker caused him to posture up. “Please welcome, Officer Mike Nasty!”

Again thunderous applause. Mike stood from his stool and kicked it over, the ladies in the crowd smiled and laughed. Then he fell on the edge of the stage and dragged his body up. They were less impressed by that. One of the women yelled, “Do the slide!!”

Mike went backstage and gathered himself before putting all his energy into the slide. He launched forward and lost control. Directly into the faces of his audience Mike flew. Then he stood up and demanded tips.

“You gotta go Mike, you’re a mess.” Brewsky warned.

Mike nodded and stumbled out of the club.

“Sally?” he looked around, waiting for his motorcycle to appear. “Sally!?”

People on the streets avoided Mike as he shouted for his missing bike, though he walked by it many times while searching. His mind was clouded with the images of the poor family at the crime scene. He couldn’t believe anything could be so evil.

Finally, Mike located Sally and drove to the precinct. It was nearly morning, and the chief was already in. 

“Mike!” the chief yelled as she watched Mike stumble in. “You can’t be at work like this. And you never reported back yesterday. I’m sorry Mike, you’re done. Hand in your gun, your badge and your key.”

“You can take my gun and my badge, but my Sally… that’s her choice to make.”

“Whatever, keep the bike.” the chief just wanted him out.

Mike rode Sally for days after his double dismissal. He drove on mountain and desert roads outside Big City until the nightmares came to a climax. He went to every thrift store and electronics dealer and picked up any police scanner he could find. When he got home, Mike plugged them all into one outlet, and was shocked violently. All the scanners stopped working, and he was blasted across the room.

 

When Mike awoke, he could hear all the scanners still. He checked each one of them. They were busted. The scanning was taking place inside his own head. The electrocution augmented his brain, allowing him to tune into police affairs.

To the precinct Mike went. He looked at the chief, and unsure of what to say, he squinted at her for a few moments, wondering how to explain himself. As if his thoughts were communicated to her telepathically, she reinstated him, getting up from her desk to proudly give him his badge.

“You’re one hell of a cop, Turner.” she said enthusiastically.

Mike squinted at other cops too and it seemed he could make any of them do his bidding. He tested this on the mailman, squinting at him for minutes, but the guy just asked one of the other officers to please help him. Enough messing around, Mike thought. 

Mike hopped on Sally and followed the first report he heard. Though tortured by the aftermath of those heinous acts, he would make certain to thwart the advances of evil whenever possible. Officer Mike Nasty was not just back on the force, he was the force. He realized he left his gun with the chief, but luckily, he was carrying a few extra pistols.

“He isn’t normal. We need to see someone.” Karen whined to her husband. “What if something is wrong with him?”

The couple looked down at the four year old boy playing with toys on the floor and nodded in unison. Later that afternoon, they arrived at a doctor’s office who took them on short notice due to the urgency of the situation.

 

“Please, Dr. Downings… we don’t know what to do. There’s something not right with him. Run whatever tests you need.”

The young doctor scanned the physique of the child, and surmised the issue, though to be thorough, he took samples. Blood, urine and stool were collected. The family waited hours and hours for the results to return. Little Jacob was confused, but accommodating, as was his disposition. 

Karen and her husband took deep breaths, hearing the door open and the doctor step in.

“I’m so sorry.” he apologized in advance for his diagnosis. “It’s exactly what I suspected. Would you like to have a seat for this?” 

“No, doc, please just tell us.” Karen requested impatiently.

“He has…” the doctor turned and gave Jake a regretful look. “...a protein deficiency.”

 

Karen broke down. She sobbed on her husband’s shoulder loudly and he fought through tears to console her. “We can have another, honey… it’s okay.” She nodded up at him and they both left the room. Jacob never saw his parents again.

Doctor Downings gave it a few weeks before approaching Jacob, who was playing with some toys, still in one of the examination rooms. The doctor referred a specialist in the field who would do the work needed free of charge.

Jacob went on his way to seek out the specialist. Down a hallway there was a laboratory with two scientists focused very intensely on a project under a microscope. As he approached cautiously, they turned and grew excited. They had a test subject.

“Hello! Doctor Downings told us all about you. What a shame… But we have something to fix you right up!”

The female scientist walked up to Jacob and callously shoved a piece of food in his mouth. He chewed reluctantly but was quickly realizing how delicious the food was.

“What was that?” he asked innocently.

“That was the perfect piece of beef.” she turned to her partner. “Told you we did it.”

“I don’t know…” he pointed at Jacob, who was now writhing in pain on the floor. His body was bulging in spots and then deflating. “Look… now we have to deal with this.”

Jacob fell unconscious within moments of the effects of the food kicking in. It was close, but not yet perfected. It replicated within his body rapidly.

“Young man.” 

“Hello??”

“HEY!”

Jacob woke up to the lab assistant yelling at him. His arm felt strange. He looked down at it and saw that his forearm had a clear panel now. Behind it, a beige liquid sloshed around. It was filling however, and he could feel it expanding.

“Here.” the lab assistant grabbed Jacob’s hand and twisted it off. “Your arm does this now. Those scientists said they didn’t want another death on their hands… Drink this.”

He held the wrist above Jacob’s mouth, though nothing was happening. “Push.” Jacob focused his energy into his arm, and it began to spray into his mouth. “The beef in your body is being synthesized into this liquid. You’ll always have an excess of protein.”

Jacob sat up and ignored the trauma of abandonment. “Thanks bro.” he said to the lab assistant and then he walked out.

 

For ten years, he sat outside of a local gym and sold his protein until he had money to open his own gym. He beefed up with age, and would have been a record breaking lifter and bodybuilder had he cared to compete. His life was about inspiring others. His mission was to make protein abundant to all who needed it. Protein deficiency? Drink some Protein Jake.

Reptilian Murphy

Where was there to go? The actor was at the pinnacle, looking down at all his achievements, nothing left to reach for.

“Cillian…” whispered an acquaintance of comparable fame. Cillian peered over, the premiere party’s roar fading to his ear. “...you ever hear about Vion?”

Ears perked up, intrigued. He had, in fact, heard of the annual gathering of celebrity elites. His buddy caught him at a vulnerable moment, and he took hold of a blank business card. In the light, it was empty, but in darkness, black light glowed on the white paper. A time and address were printed, and a strange symbol shone in the corner.

A fan approached the pair, asking for an autograph. Cillian smiled weakly and hid a heavy sigh, politely engaging. Once the trespasser left, he turned and confirmed, “I’ll be there.”

The party fizzled and Cillian spent days anticipating his first time going to Vion. He heard that careers were made there, as well as destroyed. Attendees had died and their stories covered up to protect the others. Many had gone missing. But these were all just whispers, unsubstantiated by any evidence.

Finally, the night came and Cillian was well-prepared. He dressed comfortably, but still elegantly. Into the woods, deep, he drove. A path began where the road ended and Cillian walked, wondering why he didn’t see anyone else.

Nerves were soothed when he spotted a fire through the trees with people dancing around it. He felt true excitement for the first time in a while. He got close and found it pleasing that nobody paid him any mind. They carried on with all sorts of silent debauchery all around the fire.

 

Later into the night, a masked man stepped near the flame. Everyone stopped what they were doing to focus their attention on him.

“We have with us…a first-timer.” he announced, and heads immediately snapped to view Cillian.

“Thanks for having me.” he said, looking around humbly. Nobody reacted.

“Why is it that you are here?” asked the masked man. He grabbed a log from the fire, experiencing the burning without reaction.

“I got an invitation. From a friend.”

“But why did you accept?”

“Everyone comes to Vion if invited. I’d be crazy not to.” Cillian pleaded, clearly not satisfying the log-bearing man. Everyone stared for a while waiting for a truth. “I’m here because I’m done.”

“Yes.” the man smiled under his mask.

The burning log was slammed into a massive tree’s base. Embers spread across the bark, but none of them dimmed. What was left behind was a fiery oval, through which more fire could be seen.

 

“Step forth.” the man demanded.

Cillian was hesitant.

“Or return to this life you so abhor.”

The entire gathering had begun a low hum, and Cillian felt moved by their melody. What was he to return to? He stepped forward surely, nodding at the man to do whatever he needed.

Cillian was pushed into the fire, he screamed for a moment and was unconscious for a moment. When he awoke, he was reborn. The world around him was not the same.

He was in the middle of a dark room. Candles were lit in a pattern around him and a strange woman finished humming a similar tune to what was heard at Vion.

“Hello, I’m Cillian.”

“I know who you are. And I know why you’re here. What I didn’t know is that you’d show up just now. The Alterverse’s time runs a little slower than here.”

“The Alterver-”

“You interrupted a spell. I’m sorry, but you need to see this.”

 

The woman rolled a tall mirror over and Cillian saw that his skin was no longer skin. He felt it to make sure it was real. He had grown scales and his body was an earthy green.

“What have you done?”

“Don’t interrupt spells.”

Another voice chimed in, “EAT HIM.”

“What?” the woman asked, dismissive of the voice.

Cillian ran to the door and out of the house. He was horrified. His old life was bad, but he couldn’t look like this.

On the street, a car pulled over and inspected Cillian, who was in shock.

“How would you like to be an actor, son. I need an iguana for my next big movie. Think you could play an iguana?”

Cillian nodded silently in response. From there, he repeated his mistakes, starring in many films as different reptiles. He performed under the guise of Reptilian Murphy.

Shaun Telman called for an ambulance upon discovering Bianca had passed. His parents let him skip school the next day as he processed the loss of his elderly friend. He’d been visiting her ever since he was old enough to walk.

Shaun thought a lot about Bianca’s stories and her longing for different times in her life. He wondered if, after all, in her death, she may have been able to connect with those times. Young and naive, he couldn’t truly grasp the concept of time.

The next week, Shaun returned to school. As he walked into his class, he passed by Fiona and knew he should make a move before losing his chance. Though she was one of the most popular girls in school and often ridiculed Shaun, he had deep, inexplicable admiration and affection for her.

 

Fiona always wore the same red dress to school and she stood against the back wall of the classroom. All the girls were jealous of her beauty and all the boys were not-so-secretly in love with her. Shaun would not be the first to make a romantic proposal.

During class, Shaun tore out a page from his notebook and wrote down a heartfelt, sincere love note intended for Fiona. After the lunch bell rang, he noticed there were a couple of other boys around her fighting for her attention. She was wobbling around, paying them no mind.

Shaun approached timidly, holding out the note he wrote Fiona. His heart broke as her hand failed to grasp the paper and it fell to the floor. The other boys watched him and chuckled quietly. Embarrassed, Shaun ran to the cafeteria and sat at an empty table in the corner. The boys who saw him came as well, laughing as they walked by.

Surprisingly, Fiona came to see Shaun at his lunch table after a short time. She stood in the corner beside him and reached a hand out. Shaun lit up, he reached forward to take her hand and she wrapped both arms around him tightly and launched him through the window. Then she moved away from the window as the entire cafeteria turned their heads. They all shrugged and figured a bird shattered the glass.

 

Shaun flew from the building and directly into the mouth of a dark monster that floated in the water below the cliff where the school stood. He screamed as it swallowed him whole, ending up in its stomach within seconds, knocked out from the force of the fall.

Just before this, Shaun was in the classroom with his note in hand, ready to hand it to Fiona. He handed her the note and it fell to the floor. The other boys picked it up and read it, laughing at all of Shaun’s cheesy lines. In the cafeteria, Fiona launched him out the window, into the belly of the beast, knocking him out.

Just before this, Shaun was straightening out his suit, tophat and monocle, hoping to look as sharp as possible before approaching Fiona. The other boys scoffed at his low status, flashing gold chains on each of their monocles. Fiona dropped the note and launched Shaun into the monster, knocking him out on impact.

Just before this, Shaun reattached his legs so that he could walk over to Fiona. The other boys laughed as they attached much larger legs. Fiona quickly launched Shaun out of the cafeteria window, knocking him out when he landed.

Infinite Shauns were launched into the beast below. Infinite Shauns awoke and survived in the stomach for days before hunger took over. Within the beast, only small sea creatures swam in pools of stomach acid before burning up. While Shaun avoided these pools, he scoped them out for a chance at food.

 

Infinite Shauns caught a shrimp that fell into the beast’s mouth and took a bite straight through the shell. This event was the first and only event that would ever occur simultaneously in all universes in exactly the same way. Time raged like a storm in infinite dimensions around Shaun and the shrimp. The result of this chaos was a being outside of time itself, with complete control over it.

Shaun was a shrimp, floating in the endlessness when he began to explore his powers, though his future self was inside already, and knew how to manipulate time already. He visited his own timeline and knew exactly what he would do.

Shaun visited many places and times, doing his best not to interfere with too much. He knew that any alteration to the natural order could have catastrophic effects. There was one change he felt compelled to make, but struggled to decide whether to do it. He heard Bianca’s voice, “Be brave enough to make the hard choice.” Shaun risked causing destruction to spacetime and chose to be brave. 

At the moment of her death, Shaun took B’s consciousness and combined it with that of her younger self in another timeline where she would become what she knew she should have. He watched her take steps towards her future, and felt satisfied.

In emptiness, he felt the collision of two cosmic powers. He knew this was caused by himself, as it wasn’t anything he’d ever experienced in any past or any future. He would have to correct whatever he broke, protecting the universe as Shrimp Temporal.

Theodore Relativo, renowned physicist and theorist, fell ill just before the summer of 1955. News of his death troubled the world as it was clear there would scarcely ever be a mind like his again. His contributions to the scientific community were immeasurable and his theories were proved correct consistently following his ‘death’.

Though reports were clear that Theodore had passed, the truth was that he had not. A shadowy world government set in motion a plan to preserve his body until they could find a source of longevity in efforts to harvest from Relativo more knowledge. Their plan was successful, they had found medical solutions to sustain his life, so it was time to wake him.

 

Inside a metal chamber, buried deep within a mountain, Theodore Relativo’s incapacitated body was lying still, bathing in light. This method of preservation kept him exactly as he was the moment he entered. Two men lifted the heavy metal cover and set it to the side. They reached inside and grabbed Theodore’s arms to pull, as he woke slowly.

BUMP

Theodore woke up a couple days later surrounded by scientists and suited government agents, a little dazed. One such agent began to explain what had happened.

“Mr. Relativo, it is an honor. My father and grandfather worked on this project. They made it their life’s work to ensure your survival.” she took a deep breath. “Apologies, our men went to pull you out carelessly and they hit your head on the metal chamber.”

“Thank you for your and your family’s dedication.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I feel…different. It seems I can think so much clearer.”

“I’m not sure how that’s possible. We had to perform surgery on your head to seal it back up. If anything, I’d expect some cognitive decline.”

Theodore paused for a moment to consider some variables before the agent spoke again.

“Anyways, that’s good news. If you’re ready, there is work to be done. A lot has happened since your time.”

“This is my time now.”

“Ah, yes. My mistake.”

 

The two smiled at each other and approached a large room with scientific equipment. A large window viewed down into a particle accelerator, but Theodore was more focused on the glass itself. The scientists around spoke for a while while he studied his own reflection, which was distorted and enlarged. He was asked a question and snapped from his distraction.

“What is your theory, sir?”

“I have grown significantly, to a strange, almost monstrous degree. I believe as well that the contusion I suffered has enhanced my cognition." 

The scientists around looked at each other extremely confused. It was becoming apparent that the truth was quite the opposite, but they noticed something strange. Theodore’s body was growing. He was expanding to look just like his image was distorted in the window. He continued rambling his ‘theory’.

“To truly give you all the knowledge you require, I must maximize the effect of trauma to my brain. By my estimate, ten strong blows to the skull will bring my capabilities to their ceiling.” He slammed his head on a nearby steel beam ten times. The room was in shock. Theodore looked in the mirror again and his hair was wild and distorted by the glass. “It appears as well that my head has shrunk as a result of the damage. Perhaps a side effect of my new brain power.”

Clearly, Theodore was completely wrong, though every ridiculous theory he posed had been proven true. The government agent he spoke to before approached him cautiously, looking to neutralize him by bringing his attention to science.

“Mr. Relativo, please tell us how we can access this other universe.”

“Ah, yes. If we are to visit the other universe, we must first dance.” Theodore grabbed the agent and waltzed for a moment. She placed her hand on her head, frustrated and defeated, believing all her family’s efforts were wasted now. “And we must jump.” They both jumped, Theodore’s size causing a few nearby objects to rattle and break. “And finally, whistle.” Theodore tried to whistle, but was unable to recall how with his faulty brain. The agent, however, was able to follow the instructions.

 

A fiery portal appeared at the agent’s feet and she fell with a surprised look on her face. The scientists and agents in the room came near as the portal closed and then applauded Theodore.

“How did you figure that out?” one of the agents asked.

“Huh?” Theodore replied, genuinely forgetting what just took place.

The government recognized the power of the reborn genius, and planned to use him for much more things, but he had bigger plans. Out of the mountain and off to Big City he went, pursuing a career as an egg-layer. In his new, oafish, moronic, brilliant form, he would be known to all as Theorem.

La suciedad se alineaba en las calles de la ciudad. La basura apestaba tanto en casas como en edificios. Durante años no hubo solución. Dos científicos peludos propusieron una solución que no sólo resolvería la crisis, sino que también allanaría el camino para el avance de la tecnología.

Su nombre era simple, 'Trash Collector', aunque TC era el nombre coloquial. Los avances en muchos campos les permitieron fusionar perfectamente la biología y la computación. Estos científicos habían programado un robot adaptativo con un estómago ácido y removible, capaz de descomponer compuestos orgánicos e inorgánicos increíblemente rápido.

Las unidades TC eran todo menos perfectas.

Rápidamente surgieron problemas con esta creación. Muchas de las modelos empezaron a reconocer demasiadas cosas como basura. Se los encontró devorando regularmente artículos que no eran basura. Fueron encontrados con animales e incluso personas colgando de sus bocas, con la mitad de sus cuerpos disolviéndose.

Se llamó a héroes de nivel B para eliminar la amenaza, pero no tuvieron éxito. Hefto y Donkey Crunch lograron buenos avances al librar al mundo de las unidades TC, pero resultaron gravemente heridos al hacerlo.

Los ciudadanos recurrieron una vez más a los científicos en busca de una solución, ignorando que ellos eran los responsables. Y así comenzó a teorizar y experimentar.

 

La verdadera solución era obvia… el canibalismo. Era la única manera.

Los científicos probaron una actualización inédita del TC. Sabían que la máquina nunca traicionaría a sus hermanos, pero su biología sí. Los científicos peludos persiguieron a una secta caníbal en una isla remota y los convencieron para que regresaran con ellos al laboratorio. Allí aguardaba el modelo TC.

Como en una caricatura, los caníbales caminaban en fila y caían uno tras otro en la boca del TC. Cientos de caníbales fueron disueltos con la esperanza de que este modelo replicara parte de su ADN.

No funcionó.

Mientras luchaban, los dos científicos quitaron un panel en la parte posterior de la unidad y se dieron cuenta de que un par de cambios de cables lograrían su objetivo. Verdadero momento facepalm.

Lo que nació se comería cada bote de basura que viera y libraría al mundo de cada TC. Lo que nació no fue un recolector de basura, pero con un ácido mejorado y más poderoso y un hambre por todas las cosas rechonchas, fue el único. Caníbal basura.

The land-sweeping quest of the mad conqueror, Kur, came to an end as it seemed he contracted a deadly plague and was nearing the end of his life. His loyal war-drummer, Tum, stayed by his side. Kur’s body withered and welts appeared on his skin more and more each day. In anticipation of his own death, Kur gave Tum his confession.

 

“Tum, this is no plague. This thing killing me is not of this world. Many times, I’ve escaped death. Many times, I’ve overcome my enemies against the odds. Many times, I’ve won when the only true outcome was loss.” Kur leaned to his side to look Tum in the eyes. Tum took a pause from finger tapping his beloved drum. “My success in conquest is the result of a deal I made many years ago. Though my life is coming to an end, I am fulfilled, as my journey has been filled with victory. Tum… this ‘gift’ can be passed to you, if you choose.”

Tum saw a dying man and considered the offer an insult at first. Then, he pondered Kur’s words. His life was long and filled with greatness. The only greatness Tum knew was in the shadow of Kur’s deeds.

“Kur, what deity did you make this deal with? If I am to take this gift, I must know that I can find its source and that I can nullify the curse you endure by killing it.”

“I’m proud of you Tum. You were once such a meek little drummer. Look at you now. Under my guidance, you’ve grown so much and you wish to kill something beyond this world.”

“Thank you sir, your leadership and friendship has encouraged me to always strive to create a legacy.”

“The deity you should seek is called Beemon. Though powerful, I believe you can kill it. I believe you can do a great many things.” Kur smiled at Tum, then grew stern. “Tum, do you accept this gift which I am inflicted with?”

“I accept.”

Black and yellow energy flew from Kur to Tum, Kur regaining strength as it transferred. Tum was invigorated, beating his drum violently to release some of the energy.

“This was the best way.” Kur said solemnly, standing behind Tum. He swung an axe and cut Tum in half at the mid-section. Tum’s face was shocked and angry, he beat his drum one final time as he fell to the floor. Even in betrayal, Kur respected Tum. He buried him outside the fortress with his drum between his top and bottom half.

Lifetimes later, Tum felt a pull. He hadn’t felt anything since being chopped. His body was heavy, but still, he pushed upward against dirt as if magnetized to something above. He emerged in one piece, covered in dirt.

 

“Bigger than I thought he’d be.” A confident voice spoke to itself. Tum wiped dirt away and shook clean.

“Goura du.” Tum warned in his native language.

“Whoops. Here…” A tall man in a trenchcoat waved a large mace at Tum. “You can call me Tombs, big guy.”

“What is this?” Tum asked, now able to speak English.

“Never done it like this before, but I’ve been looking for you. Not saying it was tough to find you, but I could have done a lot with the last three years.”

“Kur.” Tum stepped forward with fury.

“Kur’s been dead for a looooong time, Tumbo.'' Tombs gave Tum a nickname, by his reaction, the name was sticking. “But I’m sure some of his descendents are around. Heck, I might even be one…”

“My drum.” Tumbo asked. Tombs pointed to Tumbo’s belly. His drum was implanted within him, not just physically, but magically. 

“Being resurrected in such a way brings a destroyed body back together. Guess that was in the way.”

Tumbo reached for his drumsticks, but they were gone.

“Buddy, here. Anything else you need?” Tombs floated two sticks of bones and skulls from graves nearby over to Tumbo.

With two beats of his drum, the surface of the entire gravesite went flying. Ancient headstones and dirt flew away from Tumbo, slamming into the buildings behind. Tombs just barely braced himself, his trenchcoat flapping backwards, grinning and easily dodging the debris.

 

“That’s fun.” Tombs laughed. “Enough getting your bearings. We got a demon to kill.”

Tumbo’s attention entirely turned to Tombs. 

“That’s right, bud. Beemon made me this way. And story goes, your boy Kur claims you were killed by Beemon in a battle. Judging by your anger at Kur’s name, I’ll assume that was a lie. There’s stories about you, though. I was told it’s all just legend, but I knew you’d be ready for a fight, even if Kur’s long gone. I can smell Beemon’s curse on you. You never shed that.”

Tumbo gripped his new drumsticks tight. Tombs was right, he was ready for a fight. He felt his clock ticking, he felt Beemon’s curse.

“How do we get to Beemon?” Tumbo asked.

“That’s the easy part. Before that, we got a couple more bodies to dig up.”

Tumbo beat his drum in agreement, with a little more control this time. Tombs had a wide grin, feeling the power of the drum through his body. The two were aligned now, and just as Tum once exhilarated Kur with the beat of the drum, Tumbo would empower his new allies with the vibrations of thunderous, powerful magic.

“It’s looking a little dry, Wanda. I’m gonna go and run the water one more time.” Otis shouted into the farmhouse. Yields had been diminishing more and more over the few years prior.

“Just get back before the sun sets. I don’t want ya out there in the dark at your age. We had enough trouble the last few times.” Wanda requested.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

Otis walked across the farm to the water main and stood as his crops were replenished. While he deemed it was enough and turned the valve, lights shone above him. The sun had gone down, and just as Wanda warned against, the past was repeated.

The farmer turned slowly, took off his hat and gripped his pitchfork tight. He wasn’t out there for nothing.

“Come on ya little freaks.” Otis murmured inaudibly.

Light poured out of the ship and suspended the human in place. Wanda watched from the farmhouse and went to sleep, knowing there was nothing to be done until they returned her husband.

Otis was stuck in place for a time and then released, but in complete darkness. He felt the small ship ascend and dock at the mothership, where he’d endured much experimentation.

Though still dark, Otis heard doors open and creatures move. His hand was still grasping the pitchfork, which one of the creatures touched. Like a spider on her web, Otis used this information to strike. He turned to where the creature was and stabbed confidently, feeling the connection and penetration of the spikes. Its death was unusually silent, all that could be heard were the physical thuds and squishes.

Odd voices whispered around the ship and an alarm provided the only light Otis needed to eliminate his enemies. White light strobed in circles around the massive ship. It reminded the old man of the very first movie he saw. It was as if one picture was shown to him of an alien running, and the next of it dismantled by his farming equipment.

Further from him, Otis noticed a different light source. A strange gun was being shot at him by an alien unlike the others. As he approached it, it backed into one of the smaller shuttles and evacuated the ship, leaving its comrades to their eradication.

Otis breathed the labored breath of an old working man and returned to his massacre. Little gray beings were coming in swarms, and Otis was having some trouble cleaning off his pitchfork. Full bodies and body parts were stuck on the shaft and the spikes.

Without the sharp points available, the farmer casually resulted in bludgeoning the rest of the aliens. He used the pitchfork as it was, taking out the remaining enemies with the already deceased ones. 

Covered in strange blood and guts, Otis entered the control room of the mothership, where a larger alien sat. It raised from the floating chair, turned towards the human and started to run. Otis simply held his pitchfork out and allowed it to impale itself, helping him also clear all the debris from it.

He pulled the tool from the creature and approached the control panel. It appeared that the pilot set a destination. Otis had to escape before heading to another part of space. In the room, he pressed a bright button to illuminate the ship and stop the deafening alarm he’d forgotten about. When he returned to the main room, he tried to count quickly how many aliens he had eliminated. As he entered one of the smaller ships to leave, he was already in the tens of thousands.

Otis laid down his pitchfork and sat in the pilot’s chair of the vessel, which didn’t have much room. Just as he pushed the first lever on the ship, the larger ship vanished. He calmly played around with the controls until he figured out how to move clumsily.

Eventually, Otis brought the ship home. He didn’t know how to get out, so he flew right outside the window and spoke loudly outside.

“Wanda. What do you want me to do with this thing?”

“Otis?” she opened the drapes. Otis noticed a man lying in his bed.

 

“What is he doing here?”

“Do you know how long you’ve been gone…?” Wanda asked, seeming baffled. “It’s been three days, Otis.”

“Oh…. you made it sound like it was longer...welp. Enjoy the farm sir, and enjoy my wife. I’ve got an alien to stab.”

Otis flew away from the farm, wondering if the alien that got away was somewhere on his planet. Stuck in the ship, on a mission to find the only survivor of his wrath, the farmer would from then on be known as U.F.Otis.

Wanda salió de su habitación, el amor de su vida acababa de irse volando y un hombre estaba esperando su regreso. Ella amablemente le pidió que se fuera y se sentó en lo alto de la escalera durante días, esperando que Otis regresara. Él nunca lo haría.

La ira se apoderó de la anciana y encendió una llama en la pared de la casa de madera, vio cómo se convertía en humo y pasó la noche en el campo. La tierra recién regada estaba blanda y encontró algunas berenjenas más grandes para que le dieran refugio.

Durante muchas noches, miró las estrellas entre las berenjenas, en busca de luces en movimiento. Con el tiempo, los cultivos empezaron a envolverla y consolarla. Era como si pudieran sentir su dolor y desearan protegerla de él. Lo que realmente estaba sucediendo era un efecto de los muchos experimentos extraterrestres en la granja.

Las berenjenas no sólo la envolvieron, sino que comenzaron a fusionarse con ella. A Wanda le resultó difícil saber dónde terminaba ella y dónde comenzaban las berenjenas.

Una mañana, Wanda estaba irreconocible. Se había convertido completamente en una berenjena. Se dio la vuelta y se puso de pie sobre dos tallos podridos que hacían de piernas. Sus brazos también eran tallos negros y podridos de los que tenía total movilidad.

Era obvio lo que debía hacer. Fue a la ciudad en busca de ropa que se adaptara a su nuevo y rechoncho cuerpo. Wanda descubrió que podía correr a buen ritmo y luego rodar aún más para poder viajar más rápido.

Al llegar a la calle principal, se escucharon gritos en todas direcciones. El ruido era confuso y provocó que los tallos de la berenjena se enraizaran en el suelo. La berenjena se envolvió para proteger a Wanda. Creció el doble de tamaño.

Una vez desprendida, la criatura rodó hacia la tienda de ropa, sin saber ya por qué lo hacía. Se estrelló contra el frente y se quedó de pie entre los escombros. De su boca colgaban las personas que estaban acurrucadas en su interior. Todavía estaban despiertos, por lo que gritaron por sus vidas.

Nuevamente, la berenjena entró en modo de defensa, enraizándose y creciendo para proteger a la esposa del granjero que casi había desaparecido.

Se produjo un alboroto. Wanda era imparable en el centro de la abominable berenjena.

La intervención militar no pudo detener la destrucción, ni tampoco Wanda desde el interior de su caparazón afrutado.

Lo que puso fin al alboroto fue la visión de un platillo volante. Agua espesa salió de los ojos del monstruo y se encogió con la pérdida de líquido. Wanda recordó la pérdida de su marido y añoró su hogar. Rechazó misiles y balas, echó a correr y rodó hasta la granja.

Había olvidado que la granja había desaparecido. Todos los cultivos estaban muriendo. Su antigua vida casi fue borrada. La rabia dentro de ella hizo que la berenjena se envolviera en un capullo. Dejó que se hiciera cargo, quería que Wanda muriera como las cosechas. Ella quería que todo lo que quedara fuera el monstruo. Ella cedió ante Wumpus.

Before the Earth, the Sun was guided by a primordial force. In the intense pressure of its core, this force manifested a physical form, a human form. Around it, a golden sphere of protection shielded the body from heat. As the Sun found its rightful place in the galaxy, this force was done growing at its core.

 

A solar flare that purged all the planets of their atmospheres launched the golden sphere into space. The planets recovered and life began on Earth as a result of that regrowth. During this time, humans began to walk and form communities and tribes. They gathered resources and separated from each other, keeping for themselves even what others needed. This was the birth of greed.

Centered between three major cities, each with their own culture, the golden sphere landed. There was neither a flame trail, nor a violent impact. Even so, the glimmer of the large orb caught the eye of many humans and word spread like sunfire.

Rulers of the three tribes arrived at the site by morning, speaking no words to each other. They had their servants attempt to move the sphere. It was immovable. They tried to break it. It was unbreakable. A few months of attempts passed before a fourth culture arrived at the sphere.

The fourth culture was more humble than the others. Unique amongst the others, they hunted with well trained birds. They were more concerned with the humans than with the actual orb. While the gold would be an enormous boost to their troubled economy, it seemed insane that the other tribes wasted so much time on this endeavor when their own cities had need for them.

As they prepared to leave the others, one of their birds perched atop the sphere. It pecked curiously at a dented section until a loud crack was heard. All the leaders stood and watched, hoping the whole thing would bust open. They grew tired of waiting and had their servants build structures on three sides of the sphere so the leaders could view inside.

“It’s a man.” each leader said in their own languages. They viewed inside the grand, hollow sphere to see a large man laying down, staring out of the hole at the hunting birds circling above.

Each of the rulers were given tools to break into the sphere. As their hammers and chisels touched the golden shell, it crumbled into many smaller pieces. There was no man, but a golden bird emerged from the center and flew off into the trees.

The three rulers and their servants fought to collect the gold for themselves while the fourth tribe tried to stop the fighting. Upon the tallest branch, the golden bird kept a watchful eye. 

Once every bit of gold was taken, the three rulers returned to their cities; the fourth tribe had been gone for a while by then.

Returning to their humble encampment in the rainforest, the fourth tribe brought with them food they hunted. Their birds ate well, along with their children and elders. The hunters, however, struggled to catch enough to feed themselves. It stormed wildly that night. Loose branches and animal skins gave way to cold, relentless wind and rain. Again, the children, birds and elders were sheltered while the majority of the tribe had no space to avoid the elements.

The sun rose with fury. The fourth tribe awoke to the golden bird standing at the center of their village. It transformed before their eyes into a man. He spoke words in their language, and they could hear the same words in other languages being spoken simultaneously.

“Amidst sprawling cities, I find true worthiness here.”

The man raised his arms, and his golden staff shone with sunlight. Rocks making up the village’s landscape began to change. People walked to pick up the stones to find that they were not stones anymore. The fourth culture had been blessed by this being with pure gold.

 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” the people all approached and bowed before the man.

“Beware greed, the offspring of fortune.” the man warned, transforming back into a massive, golden bird and retreating to the rainforest.

The three major cities of old collapsed not long after the golden sphere. The fourth culture, however, was generous and willing to take in any refugees. For centuries, they prospered, remaining grateful to the mythical being who brought them their wealth.

Eventually, the new major civilization was taken over by a cruel warlord. The city shook and stone crumbled at the pounding of war drums. The people once again would need their patron to survive.

As the warlord approached the throne, he found that the people were all bowing on the large golden platform. They all prayed to the being, unsure whether he would appear.

High above the throne, in the sky, gold feathers reflected a beam of sunlight towards the warlord, erupting a pillar of flame. Though just a warning, he was thrown from his fleeing horse and forced to abandon the siege with his army. Drumming grew more faint until the city knew they were safe.

 

Compassion for the city’s people and understanding of their vulnerability, it was clear without him, they would be attacked again, so the bird perched on the tall back of the chair and turned to solid gold. Noone dared attack the city, for fear of their resident Sun God, Zol.

“Is that Harvey’s pumpkin?” Lucrecia walked by the table, flipped her woven white hair and scoffed with the other pumpkin snobs. “Cute!” They all followed her while keeping their amused eyes on the dwarf gourd.

Harvey hid behind the fairground tent, embarrassed of his pumpkin. If the contest rewarded the smallest pumpkins, he’d be the winner every year. His patch was in the center of a few others and he always performed the worst at the fair. The pumpkins he brought to display were ridiculed year after year.

Listening for announcements, Harvey packed up while everyone’s backs were turned. Lucrecia won the fair, again. She trounced onto the rickety stage and grabbed the squealing microphone.

“I’d like to thank Harvey Tien. He makes this contest so much less competitive for the rest of us. Thank you Harvey!!” Everyone turned to see Harvey sheepishly packing up. He heard laughter and pity, dropping objects in a hurry to leave.

At his house, Harvey looked out his bedroom window at his patch. He looked around at his neighbors as well, noticing, even from the distance, that their pumpkins were significantly more impressive. The following year, he knew he had to redeem himself.

As the season rolled in and everyone prepared their finest pumpkins for the fair, Harvey grew his own. They grew large and he stayed with them until deep in the night.

When all the neighbors were sleeping, Harvey crept from patch to patch and with a dropper, poisoned lightly the roots of all the biggest gourds. He didn’t intend to kill them, just to stunt their growth enough for him to win. He started with Lucrecia’s patch, having seen her leave in his direction earlier and fearing she may come back soon. Her largest pumpkin was already twice his height, so he gave it an extra few drips of the solution he picked up from the general store.

In the morning, Harvey regretted his nefarious acts as he saw blue and red lights flashing across the way. All the largest pumpkins around turned gray and caved in or slumped over. The solution was too powerful; Harvey had gone too far.

Neighbors all pointed at Harvey as the police interviewed them. He watched from his window as they yelled and correctly blamed him for the sabotage. The authorities made their way over to his house and knocked on the door, so Harvey slipped out the back door into the pumpkin patch.

As the cops investigated the house, Harvey saw his chance to hide. His prized pumpkin, that he yearned to get in front of the town, would be his disguise. He cut the top off quickly and hopped inside, replaced the top and crouching quietly inside. Voices of police went back and forth, and Harvey began to feel dizzy. His breathing was short and his vision blurred. The smell was familiar. Poison!

Harvey, in his final moments, realized that Lucrecia had been cheating all along and tainting the pumpkins he grew. The toxic air was rapidly killing him and the pumpkin around him. He took his last breath with violent anger. As his spirit left his body, it refused to move on. It stayed with him, inside his masterpiece. 

After a few days, the contest was held. Everyone showed with their second best pumpkin and enjoyed simple festivities. Lucrecia, however, was rotting with hatred. She climbed on stage as the judging was ending.

“We can’t complete the judging without Harvey, are you nuts!? Let’s go everyone. Even if he’s too afraid to face the police, or to show his face here, we have to give his little tiny pumpkins a chance.”

The people would have been happy to move on and enjoy the fair, but reluctantly agreed to allow the old woman to carry out her bullying. They all walked down the street towards Harvey’s home. 

Lucrecia approached the patch, guiding the entire fair. The crowd walked onto a putrid field of death and decay. Lucrecia held her nose and tip toed further, determined to make a fool out of Harvey. The skies seemed to darken and the footsteps seemed to be upon flesh below.

“This must be it!” Lucrecia announced, walking up to the enormous pumpkin deep in the patch. “Sad, if he didn’t cheat, he may have had a chance to win.”

Everyone watched as Lucrecia stood in front of the grand pumpkin arrogantly. It spun in place ever so slowly, revealing a face that resembled Harvey. It was grotesque and evil in appearance. It began to breathe murky, thick air - in and out. On the next inhale, Lucrecia turned to feel her soul tearing away from her body.

Screaming in pain, Lucrecia reached for help from the others. Everyone was frozen with terror, watching her body dissolve into the ground as the glow of her spirit was sucked into the mouth of the pumpkin. When her corpse was fully gone, a little tiny pumpkin popped out of the ground. Her face, frozen in horror, was screaming for someone to help.

The grand pumpkin took all the neighbors who once scoffed at him. Everyone else ran and never returned.

Many years later, the area of decay spread to the entire empty town. Children would occasionally visit the urban legend, and if they went to lend aid to a horrified pumpkin, it would guide their soul to Harvest.

“I can’t believe it! She liked my post!!!” Sheldon shouted from his desk chair inside his studio apartment. There were no roommates to hear, though neighbors beyond the walls rolled their eyes.

Sheldon didn’t mind that he was alone in exuberance. The only one whom he cared to connect with was Her, The Queen of Pop. He was no ordinary fan. Sheldon bled for Her. He lived under the guidance of WWTD, considering heavily the real answer to that in every situation.

The reason Sheldon was so thrilled about his online post being liked was that it was not just words, but a picture of himself, wearing merchandise. That wasn’t the only reason. He had also nominated himself as the president of Her global fan club. Her like was a stamp of approval and a sign of agreement.

Sheldon’s post with only two likes (himself and Her), began to rack up millions. News outlets reported on him as a phenomenon in the pop community, giving him instant recognition amongst any fans who kept up to date.

It was overwhelming. Sheldon had, for years, posted in anonymity. This was a hail mary, and something he’d never done. Even his profile picture was of Her. Being a public figure was nothing he expected. A moment to step away would give him time to breathe and return with a less foggy mind.

There was a coffee shop down the street that Sheldon frequented. Each barista knew his order and were quick to deliver the moment he walked in. They simply put and “S” on the cup and placed it on the counter, knowing Sheldon wanted as little attention as possible.

Away from the counter, Sheldon sat on his phone scrolling through tour pictures and listening to Her newest album. He’d look up every few moments to see if a coffee was placed down. Finally, after a song and a half, it was.

Sheldon reached for the cup sitting on the otherwise empty counter.

“No, bro. That’s mine.” a harsh voice said loudly, trying to make threatening eye contact.

Sheldon’s eyes were down on the counter. “Sorry about that.”

“You see that ‘S’? That stands for Sonny. SSSSonny.” the bully emphasized the S as if he owned the letter, though the coffee actually was for Sheldon.

“Oh, okay, sorry about that.” Sheldon repeated.

“Hey, why don’t you look at me? That’s a little disrespectful.” Sonny looked to a barista to try and drag them in. “Don’t you think?!” they didn’t reply, averting their gaze making a straight line between their lips. Getting no response irked Sonny enough to provoke him further.

As Sheldon backed away slowly, Sonny cocked his arm back and threw it forward to punch. The fist never landed.

Looking up, Sheldon saw a dainty hand holding tight the fist of his assailant. Blonde hair was draped on the back of the head and they stood tall and slim.

“YOU?!” Sheldon’s body felt electric. He watched as his defender turned to face him to see it wasn’t Her. It was another fan, doing what they could to look like Her. Even though he was slightly disappointed, it was much better than being hit.

The situation was deescalated and Sheldon left the shop, thanking the barista. Walking back to his apartment, he approached a busy street. Traffic, however, stopped as he came up against the crosswalk, though their light was green.

Strange, Sheldon thought, then continued on. When he went to open the door to the building, he realized he left the main key upstairs. Before whipping out his phone to call a neighbor to help, his feet were removed from the floor. Quickly, he rose up to the balcony of his place. Below him, hundreds of fans were enthusiastically piling up to assist him.

When he stood on the balcony, Sheldon looked down at the dispersing crowd and said just loud enough to hear, “Wait.”

Every single person in the street stood at attention, as if waiting for a command from their captain. Sheldon realized the power that he had been given. The hive mind of Her fans was at his disposal, and though he wasn’t sure what to do with it yet, he had an announcement for them. They stood in merch, staring with dead eyes and ready bodies.

“Swifties, you may call me… Swifto.”

“Swifto.”

“Swifto.”

“Swifto.”

Elliot Zamora grew up playing football, before and through school. Lawrence, his identical twin brother, played as well, and they were unstoppable together. During their senior year of college, Elliot wasn’t getting looked at by any recruiters. He had few prospects beyond college if he wasn’t going pro.

Lawrence, on the other hand, was getting tons of offers every day. His phone was ringing non-stop for invites to stadiums and fancy trips. It was well-deserved, as Elliot was the less prominent player. For this reason, he began to show up to practice hours early and train harder than Lawrence, more than the entire team.

Soon, results began to show, and Lawrence expressed how proud he was.

“You’re killin’ it, El. Guess we’ll be on the Big City Spankers together, huh?”

“Sure hope so, Law.”

As the season progressed, raw talent edged out training again. Elliot fell way behind, and the discrepancy in ability between him and his brother grew wider.

Elliot woke up another hour earlier one day, headed out to the field and planned to train until the team showed. That morning, the field was riddled with dirt tracks and holes. Elliot leaned over one of the holes to investigate. There was nothing in the ground there, but behind him, he felt rumbling. He saw three tracks underground zipping towards him, glowing a distinct green.

Suddenly, out of the ground emerged three gophers, glowing a bright green. Two bit his arms and one his neck. Elliot fell to the ground, his blood now infected with whatever resides within the Glowphers’ DNA. 

After some time, the pain subsided. Elliot kicked dirt back into the holes and returned to training. He couldn’t shake the feeling of failure from his head. As the team arrived, they watched Elliot train the hardest they ever witnessed.

“Slow down, bro. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Looks like you already did.” Lawrence remarked on the three bite marks.

“It’s all good, Law. I just need to be ready for the game.” Elliot smiled at his broter, though he felt defeated on the inside and he was unsure of why.

Practice was good and an important game started later that day. Elliot was positioned well for a pass, but the quarterback kept beaming the ball directly to Lawrence. He didn’t have an opportunity to prove anything to himself.

Elliot pushed and pushed all game until the final drive. Lawrence fumbled the ball near Elliot’s feet, giving him the chance to grab it. There was tons of defensive coverage surrounding the ball, and on their team, only the two of them were anywhere nearby. SCOOP. Elliot instantly snatched the ball and jumped over another player to head toward the goal line. Lawrence stiff armed and tackled others to give his brother a chance to make it.

Elliot ran and ran and ran until he crossed that line. In that second, the world went black. A white line was drawn in every direction. He was on another plane. His mind was freed from self-doubt.

What everyone else saw was an explosion of green light from Elliot’s body. He was glowing now, and he returned to the real world.

Elliot’s team was tied with the enemy. He knew what had to be done. He whispered to the quarterback and stayed by his side. As ‘hike’ was announced, Elliot took the ball and vanished.

Players stopped moving and looked under their feet to see the ground swell. Elliot emerged at the goal line, and again entered the ethereal realm and exploded with light.

Lawrence cheered loudly for his brother, picking him up as the game timer expired. His glow faded with the game.

“Might want to check your phone.” Lawrence warned Elliot.

Recruiters from every pro team left messages and sent videos pleading for Elliot to join them.

“I know you dropped that ball for me.” he told Lawrence.

“I don’t want to do this alone, bro. I knew you could do it… Well not that. But something. Hey, that first touchdown was all you.”

Elliot nodded and responded with a picture to the Big City recruiter; he and Lawrence holding the game ball with the caption, “Package Deal”.

Before his pro career began, Elliot would search for the Glowphers to find out how to control his power. He wanted to do some good in the world and to master his mysterious ethereal plane, his Endzone.

“It’s not about the dance. It’s about energy, son.” Alfredo explained. “Everyone is different. I can’t teach you your dance. For that, you need to look inward.”

Bernardo nodded and began to shuffle his feet. His hips started to move and he closed his eyes to feel the rhythm. One step was out of sync and he turned off the music, frustrated. “Everyone in the family can dance but me. What am I going to do at Titi’s party? I’ll look like such an idiot.”

“Honey, you can dance. You’re just learning, it’s okay.” Bernardo’s mother Jasmine comforted her son as he left the courtyard of their home.

Bernardo walked around the wall and sat behind the open window. He was just short enough that his parents couldn’t see he was still there. Though unintentional, he overheard them speaking.

“Dance is his destiny. You have seen it too. We have to get him to really focus.” his father said.

Bernardo didn’t understand why it mattered so much that he learned to dance. He felt upset that his father didn’t believe he was focused because he truly was. After going to bed, once his parents were asleep, Bernardo awoke and began to practice, alone in the courtyard.

When the sun came up, everyone found music playing and the moves of an expert dancer. Bernardo was grooving hard to song after song, ignoring his parents and sister until they started to dance around him.

“Bernie! Look at you!” Jasmine looked at her son, then her husband, tears in her eyes. She whispered to Alfredo. “This is it - his dance.”

Bernardo continued to dance until the last drop of energy left his system. He walked straight into the kitchen and filled up on food from the fridge. Then he went to sleep, awaiting the following day; Titi’s party.

Eighteen hours passed. Bernardo’s family felt he should sleep to recover from his long first dance. He rushed to get dressed and out to the patio for the party but was horrified to find the backyard in ruin. Tables and chairs smashed or flipped, food everywhere. No people were there, though clearly everyone had been before.

“They’re gone, Bernie.” said a man in a suit stepping out of the house. “You would have been too.”

“Gone where?”

“Gone gone. While your family was dancing, we were attacked. Not just here. A war has begun, Bernie. We need you.”

“My family!?”

“You’re gonna have to process this quickly. Here, your father left you this.”

An envelope was handed over with the words ‘Open When you Return’ written on it. Bernardo followed the man into a helicopter and rode to a military base where he was debriefed alone.

“There’s a relentless enemy out there that we need you to defeat. They’ve stepped to us and we need to step back. Problem is, you’re the only hot stepper. We’ll back you up with all we got, but you are what’s gonna win us this war.” a typical military admiral explained the situation.

“Why me?”

“This is why.” the admiral pressed a play button on a speaker. Music started to play and both men tapped their feet, watching Bernardo sit there. After five songs they decided to just nudge him in the right direction. “You were supposed to dance.”

“Oh, okay, sorry. Missed that.”

Bernardo stood from the chair and began to hit the nastiest moves on the planet. Each pose sent energy flying at the two other men.

“He's ready.” the man in the suit stated.

Into battle Bernardo went, dropping out of helicopters in the most stylish fashion. Even when he descended into combat he was already making a large impact. Bullets danced around him and rockets dismantled themselves.

The enemy had constructed a military robot to fight their battles for them. It walked on two legs and danced on all fours. It was the most powerful piece of equipment used in a war in the history of mankind. Bernardo watched waves of them approach and strike a pose to challenge him. Each robot began to play music, which only served to empower him.

Bernardo not only did party dance moves, he began to breakdance. When he spun on the floor, his motion destroyed a robot with each rotation, and he did many.

For twelve years, Bernardo fought. The war was won by his hand and he was deservedly honored for it. Many nations called him to help fight their battles afterwards and he entertained a few before returning home.

Bernardo walked into his childhood home in Big City. He stepped into the open courtyard, seeing the ghosts of his family dancing around him. He stood in the center and tore open the letter his father left him.

‘Do your dance, son, and we’ll be with you soon.’

Bernardo shed a couple tears before reaching for the old speaker and pressing play. As the beat hit, he began to do his dance. He heard from behind the sound of a machine bending. While still dancing, he turned to see the man in the suit who once took him from this place. The suit tore at the waist, where he saw wiring. The dance move the man did blasted Bernardo through the courtyard, though he felt he never landed.

Bernardo stood again in the center of the home, which was alive with music, family and friends. He had the opportunity to dance with his parents and sister now.

As the years went by, he would see others enter the home. When he tried to dance with them, they would always run away from ‘that Big Spooky thing’.