Yakeline was, even as a baby yak, a dreamer. She envisioned herself high up in the sky, and not just on a mountain. Birds flying by always caught her eye, she wished to be among them. Her herd had fewer thoughts collectively in their lifetimes than Yakeline experienced moment to moment.

Yakeline was lonely in her pack. Her mother was more interested in grazing than socializing. The only connection she truly felt was from Yakary. He was only slightly older than her, and she found him very handsome. They grew up together in the herd, always playing together and sleeping closeby. Still, he was not like her and she knew it.

Always the fastest in her herd, Yakeline would embarrass Yakary when they would race. She also had incredible control of her massive body, able to stop from full speed almost instantly. Her mother was nothing like that, so she figured it was from her father who she never met.

Much of the life of the herd was peaceful, only ever threatened by the expansion of human building. One night Yakeline had a feeling that peace would be ending soon, as if she sensed enemies approaching. 

Trouble descended in the form of ravenous reptilians. Thousands of small gators encroached on the territory of the herd. Running was the instinctual first option, yet they found that the perimeter was secured by the gators. Yakeline watched as Yakary was torn apart, and her mother was nearby, not wise enough to flee.

Yakeline focused all her energy to speed ahead and ram the gators. Her mother moved out of the way just in time. The gators were eviscerated, entrails flying everywhere. Behind Yakeline there was a trail of torn grass. She couldn’t understand how running caused this, or how the gators were ripped apart.

A nibble interrupted Yakeline’s thoughts. Gators had swarmed her, as the obvious threat. Luckily for her, their attack was uncoordinated, as if missing a leader. Some of the smaller gators were on her back and a couple larger ones nibbled at her legs.

Yakeline heard spinning and felt her body vibrate rapidly. She closed her eyes and endured the strange sensation.

When she opened her eyes, thousands of gators were dead. So were the yaks. Her entire herd was mutilated. What had she done? Yakeline couldn’t understand. She cried loudly, confused, angry and more alone than ever.

Just then, she heard a whooshing sound overhead.

“Stay still.” commanded a voice over a loudspeaker. The voice responded to an unknown person, “Yep, we finally found her.”

From above, Yakeline saw a helicopter hovering, looking for a place to land. It settled for directly on top of the corpses of the herd. Yakeline felt sick.

A man in a suit stepped out of the helicopter and approached Yakeline.

“We’ve been looking for you. We figured one day you’d start showing.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about, nor why she understood.

“You look confused.” the man stated. “You thought you were just a yak? With that steering system? With that radar and computing power? With those turrets and those rotor blades?”

The man chuckled and stood next to Yakeline. “That’s funny. I guess that makes sense. I mean you spent your whole life with these creatures. And you are quite literally half yak.”

“Half yak?” Yakeline thought, wishing there was some way he could hear.

“I bet you’re thinking right now, ‘half yak?’. Well, ma’am, I’d like you to meet your father.” the man pointed forward. Yakeline stared through the fuselage of the helicopter for a good few seconds. The man walked to the door and slammed it shut, and then held out his arms to present her father to her. “Say hello to daddy AH-217.”

Yakeline resisted for a few minutes, letting the man’s words pass through unheard. Then she gave in, knowing it to be true.

“You are more than a yak. You know this. Now join us. Join us in the fight against the wicked. We need you on our side.” the man’s invitation began to sound like a threat if she didn’t agree.

Yakeline looked around to see her herd nothing more than a graveyard. She bid farewell to her mother and began to focus her energy again.

“That’s it, baby.” the man said, getting in the AH-217 and awaiting Yakeline in the sky.

Rotor blades extended from her back and machine guns popped out from her sides. Yakeline would not forget where she came from. She would seek out the reptilian leader who caused the attack and she would honor both her parents while doing so. Yakeline patrolled the skies as A-Yak Helicopter.

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 threw all of Bud’s shirts out of the third story window. He stood outside looking up, a shirt draped over half his head.

“Are you upset?” Bud shouted up to the window.

“Take it, Bud. I never want to see you again.” Sheila replied, wiping tears from her face.

“You didn’t answer my question…”

 

 

Bud collected his shirts and walked away. Over the thirteen years they were together, it wasn’t the first time she caught him in the honey jar with his bare hands, but it would be the last. That was her honey. She couldn’t have that.

Covered in sticky gold, Bud went to the closest place to get cleaned up. His brother Benson was, as always, in his parents’ basement just up the street.

 

“Hey Benson… Sheila kicked me out for good.” Bud dropped his large ball of clothes on the ground.

“Whoa man. That’s…” Benson closed his eyes in extremely deep thought, looking for the right words to say to his brother in his time of need. Would he be the one to cheer Bud up and get him back on his feet? He considered giving helpful advice to guide Bud towards a happy life with or without Sheila. His brother looked at him, awaiting his sentence to be completed. Benson opened an eye and peeked, but pretended he didn’t when Bud noticed. He went back to wondering how to proceed. It began to dawn on him that he had never been in a relationship himself. It was difficult to find a partner in the basement. Back to the sentence, he thought, he stalled enough. Then he thought about the nature of words and ambiguity. He needed to be as clear as possible so that Bud didn’t get the wrong idea. He was ready. Benson had the perfect conclusion to his sentence after much deliberation. “...bad.”

Bud was frustrated but appreciated his brother’s kind words. He paced the basement floor in deep thought. All the times he shared his own honey with Sheila and now she won’t do the same? He became furious. He realized he was now on the market of love. In rage, the old punching bag hanging from the ceiling received a right hook. BAM. It flew across the room.

 

Benson turned from the TV and glared at his brother with as much intrigue as he could muster. Not only had Bud somehow blasted the punching bag across the room with his bare hands, he was also levitating and glowing. It took him a few moments to focus and return to normal.

“Hey, do that again, bro.” Benson requested.

With ease, Bud did it again. “You’re floaty….. and …. glowy.”  Benson exclaimed.

At the door, Sheila opened and leaned on the frame. She somehow completely ignored the glowing and floating.

“Come back, Bud… I overreacted.”

“Hey, Bud, look, it’s Sheila.” Benson informed his brother.

“Really?” Bud responded to Sheila.

“Really... what do ya say?”

“I say, let’s go home.”

Upon speaking those words, Bud’s glow faded and he fell to the ground. It was clear what needed to be done. He backed away and sat on the couch next to Benson.

“Aren’t you coming?” Sheila questioned, confusion spreading across her face.

“Nah.” Bud answered.

His refusal gave him the glow back and the couch floated. Benson was asleep by this point. Sheila buzzed off in a huff and Bud knew who he had to be to maintain his power. He would be on the market of love indefinitely, as he was now Bachelor Bear.

 

 

“Hey B.” smiled the neighbor boy, Shaun Telman, placing baked goods on the counter. His puppy, Dash, approached the old woman for attention.

 

 

“Hello, Shaun. How was your week?” she was excited to hear about his time at school, having little other stimulation at her stage in life.

“Not bad.”

“Oh you gotta give me more than that!” she laughed.

“Okay…” he submitted to her request, “...Fiona told one of our classmates that I was a minute-man. I didn’t even know what that meant but then-”

“Hold on right there.” Shaun was interrupted abruptly. “What happened to the rest of the pastries?”

“Sorry, I tossed some to those little ducks by the pond.” he admitted.

“You know I live off these. You’ll just have to bring me some more tomorrow.”

“Will do!” Shaun agreed, finished his story and he walked home with Dash.

Bianca Stubbins was alone, as usual, once her neighbor left. It wasn’t the silence that bothered her, or the loneliness itself. More than anything else, she was bored. With no family to her own and no real friends besides Shaun, she felt she was waiting for her end. Aside from his stories, the only thing that brought her excitement were pastries. 

Ever since she was little, Bianca had an affinity for baked goods. She couldn’t remember when her infatuation with pastries began, but she often recalled a moment in her life when things could have taken another path. She felt that maybe if she had chosen differently and taken a risk, she would be happier in the end. Being this near to the end, that moment had become a fixation. 

Before laying down to sleep, she often pictured choosing differently, hoping to dream of the outcome and waking to find it as reality.

The sun rose and Bianca was in the same old reality. She struggled to rise from her bed and slowly shuffled to her chair in the living room, making sure to unlock the door on the way so that Shaun could enter later in the day.

It was just before Shaun’s arrival that Bianca’s heart began to give out. She sat in her chair, grasping at her chest and heaving. Shaun opened the door and rushed over with Dash, realizing what was happening.

“B!” he shouted, afraid to lose his friend.

“Shaun, don’t worry about me. I want you to hear these words…” Bianca gathered as much air as she could. “Be brave enough to make the hard choice.”

Bianca watched Shaun’s face freeze in reaction to her words, but more than that. Dash froze, the world froze, and everything darkened. She thought this was it. Then, the image of a crustacean, an hourglass and a clock flew through her mind.

Suddenly, Bianca was standing… and young.

She recognized for a split-second that this was the moment she wished to revisit. Her memories of her life past that point faded rapidly. All that was left in her mind was her words to Shaun.

Bianca walked ahead of her father in the crosswalk and before her floated a demon made of confection. A cream demon. Creamon.

 

It held out-stretched a sugary tentacle and she heard a voice in her head.

“If you take this power, you will never see him again.” it pointed at her father, who was distracted by other parents.

Bianca made her choice, tears in her eyes. 

She stood for some time watching panic set in on her father’s face, watching him interrogate everyone nearby, watching him break down at his loss. “Where’s my baby girl?” He sobbed as he spoke to the police, and Bianca sadly followed Creamon to another realm.

Torturous years of mastery followed before she was in complete control of her power and able to return to her own realm.

Upon returning, she purchased a closed down bakery to operate out of.

 

“Just take care of the cat.” the old owner requested.

She closed the door behind her and focused her energy to fill the empty shop with pastries. 

During shop hours, Bianca Stubbins would tend the counter and cater to her guests, but after hours, BakeSale would gradually make the world just a little bit sweeter.

 

 

“Damn!” Blake Baxter, age 29, cheered on the underage captain of his parents’ yacht.

His younger brother, Brett, age 16, had downed yet another bottle of german lager within seconds.

“Careful, bro, at this rate, you’re going to drown before we get back to the dock.” Blake laughed.

“I’m a great swimmer.” Brett slurred his reply and both chuckled as the party roared.

Below deck, Blake entertained high-status heirs and pop culture icons, whilst Brett manned the ship’s steering. 

Within two hours of departing, the yacht would be reported missing by the lumber moguls, Brenda and Bill Baxter, who were nearly at their wit’s end with their ill-behaved children. The inexperienced and unqualified captain would have been wise to heed the half-warning of his brother. He realized this as a burp turned into much, much more. Hunched over, his hand landed on the touchpad of the yacht’s advanced steering. The ship immediately hooked a right turn, slamming into the seawall they were far too close to. In a blaze of fire, it sank with all but one passenger inside.

 

 

Three weeks passed before Blake Baxter awoke.

On the shore of a river, Blake was surrounded by a colony of beavers, all staring at him. He lifted his head and looked all around, seeing nothing but the furry critters.

Three more weeks passed before Blake Baxter awoke.

Trees were rocking steadily out of Blake’s view as his eyes opened. He was in motion. Was it all a dream? Had he imagined the crash and the beavers? It was clear this was no yacht. Blake laid on the tail of a beaver much larger than any human he’d ever seen. But then he remembered Shaq.

Three more weeks passed before Blake Baxter awoke.

“Damn.” Baxter exclaimed upon realizing that fainting would not remedy his predicament. Deep within the woods, within a cave of twigs, Blake was approached by the massive beaver who carried him.

 

 

“Why am I here?” Blake questioned the beast.

The beaver stared blankly, then exited the cave. Blake knew this to mean that he must follow, though the beaver meant nothing by it.

He was taken far from the cave, where the giant beaver drank from the river. Blake noticed the water was a strange, murky yellow. It was obvious that chemical runoff had caused this beaver’s growth. The beaver again looked blankly at Blake. Blake took this to mean that he would also have to drink from the river.

The beaver wondered why Blake was still there.

Blake Baxter went to cup some water by the giant beaver, which became territorial. As Blake knelt and sipped from his hands, he was bit in the back. His spine was snapped like a twig.

 

 

Three weeks passed before Blake Baxter awoke.

Blake rose from a twig-bed, not with his legs, but with a new, girthy tail. He felt powerful, slapping his new appendage against the ground twice and crumbling the twig cave with the force.

Blake reached for a nearby fish left by the beaver colony and tore it apart with massive dagger-like fingers.

Blake Baxter knew his old life was over, for he was now… Beaver Claw.

His mission was simple. Find out who brewed the beer that made Brett vomit, and avenge the death of his brother. And tell them that over 2,000 other people definitely died on that yacht too.

 

 

Oktoberfest, 1822, Jergen von Ulrich led his team toward victory for the third year in a row, dominating every event the festival put on. As the champions of Munich’s largest celebration, Jergen’s squad was revered as legends in every bar and tavern. They breezed through the events on day one, chugging Hoffenjofferbrostlbach without so much as a belch until midday.

 

 

Day two began the same until Jergen was interrupted by a messenger.

“What have you brought me, friend?” the sturdy inebriate asked the young lady.

“You have an invitation here.” she handed a surprisingly clean and crisp envelope to Jergen.

“Thank you for this.” he smiled at her and nodded in appreciation, expecting it to be another Oktoberfest event elsewhere in Germany. Sitting all along one side of a bench, the three men and two women of his team peered over at Jergen’s hands, anticipating the same.

“Sorry, everyone. This letter is for me alone.” he informed them jovially, smiling wide as he scanned the letter. They all groaned and proceeded to empty all the pitchers in front of them.

Jergen pulled aside his wife, Jana, away from the table. “I’ve been invited to the Brewhouse… to meet… the Brewmaster.”

Jana was just as sturdy physically and perhaps more so mentally, yet mention of the Brewmaster, an urban legend for many years, stunned her for a moment.

“You must go!” she snapped out of her shock and shouted in exuberance.

The team, nosey again, were all staring back at where the pair were standing once they heard Jana.

“Back to your beer!” Jergen laughed from his gut. The team followed suit as another round appeared before them. “And I’ll be back for tomorrow’s events. Jana will drink for me... Good luck, my family!”

Even in departure, the team cheered on Jergen, a beloved man in any Oktoberfest tent.

Jergen found his way to the center of the festival, where all the Hoffenjofferbrostlbach was dispatched from. It was a large wooden building, filled with barrels, floor soaked and rife with the stench of beer.

 

 

It was in the back where the brewing took place. He stepped into a fantasy land of grain and alcohol. He placed his thumbs in the straps of his lederhosen and browsed as he awaited the Brewmaster’s arrival. It was all so fascinating to him, he couldn’t resist getting hands on.

A nearby barrel made a small but clear sound. Jergen slowly walked over to snoop. The bulky man realized the lid was raised slightly from the barrel. He moved his hand to correct this, but noticed a couple of eyes where his hand reached. In that split-second, he was pulled; not into the barrel, but beyond.

To him, an eternity passed as he floated, conscious yet in a void. He yearned for return. He yearned for Jana. Time became irrelevant.

Suddenly, he was ripped from this near-emptiness. He opened his eyes for the first time to see a massive beard and a resolute face above it.

The once sturdy man was drained of all life. Though almost no time had actually passed, it had for Jergen’s physical form and for his soul. He had very little time left. Jergen looked to his side as the Brewmaster stepped away to retrieve a barrel from his private reserve.

“This should do the trick, friend.” the Brewmaster’s voice rumbled slowly as he gave Jergen some beer. It was a color Jergen had never seen before.

 

 

His body began to inflate back to its original size, and then continued. The lederhosen he wore snapped. The Brewmaster yanked some metal off of old barrels to replace Jergen’s clothing.

“You will defend Oktoberfest with your life.” the Brewmaster commanded, handing Jergen a spigot and a flat, oversized barrel.

Jergen von Ulrich died within the barrel. Bierguardian emerged from the Brewmaster’s concoction, prepared to endure another eternity in the name of Oktoberfest.

 

 

“Does my appearance make you miserable? If my appearance makes you so miserable, why don’t I do you a little favor?” Benny paused for dramatic effect, “Tony, put him out of his misery.”

“No! Please! You can’t do this!” Freddy roared as he was dragged away from the boss.

“Oh and Tony…” Benny stopped them before they exited the room. “Send his wife a tree in his honor.”

Tony nodded and ignored Freddy’s squirming in agony. Outside the door a loud “POOM” could be heard and the thumping of a massive corpse rang out while Benny lit a cigar and counted a stack of money.

“That’s a wrap!” shouted the director.

 

 

“How was I?” the lead actor sought approval from the room. “Sorry for asking, I just haven’t worked in a while. We can take it again if you think it could be better.”

The actors playing Tony and Freddy chuckled together, wondering how someone named Benny Danger could have gotten the part in the first place. Though just a stage name, it had little to do with that. The writer was searching for a triceratops of his stature to stay true to the novel.

“It was fine, Benny. We’re wrapping for the day. Maybe tomorrow will be better.” the director replied somberly.

Benny walked off stage with hopeful eyes that somebody in the crew or an actor would be available to discuss the scene. He was alone. It didn’t matter to the optimistic dinosaur, 2024 was his year.

Before leaving the set, he went out back in the alley behind the large warehouse to call his mother and share his first day’s performance with her. It rang only once before she answered.

“Bruno! How was your first day in the big city, how was your scene? How-” she bombarded him only to be cut off.

“Ma, it’s Benny Danger now. Bruno Digby is not an actor’s name.” he whined.

“Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry ‘Benny’.” Benny could hear her smiling through the phone, so proud of his achievements.

Many large feet hurried towards Benny before he could continue the conversation. The phone fell from his hand from the vibration.

 

 

“You look tough.” stated the leader of a pack of four T-Rex hoodlums that quickly surrounded Benny..

“How tough do you think he is?” another one jested.

“He probably thinks he’s tougher than any of us.” the largest one said as if offended it was even a possibility.

“Guys… I’m not tough, I’m just an actor… look… this is a costume.” Benny pleaded to the crew, showing them the cheap material of his suit and his fake tommy gun.

“Oh, so he thinks he’s better than us because he’s gainfully employed.”

“No… really, I was just on the phone with my mother…”

One of the T-Rex’s picked up the phone and Benny’s mother could be heard screaming before the phone was crushed by a shriveled arm.

“I don’t like him… I think we should tear him apart.” the leader stated callously. “Say your prayers.”

Benny thought to himself that this was his last moment and he never did consider praying before. While teeth charged at him, he closed his eyes and prayed loudly in his mind, “If there’s something out there listening, I pray to you and I accept your guidance.”

“You. Are. Deserving.” a thunderous voice stated slowly, vibrating Benny at an unimaginable speed.

Benny opened his eyes and he was in the same alley, but the others were gone. The phone wasn’t in pieces on the ground. The building beside him was a different color. He opened a tiny door and busted through. Inside there were creatures dressed like him, but not dinosaurs… they were humans.

“What is that!?” A big man stood and faced the upright prehistoric creature that had crashed through the wall. Five other men stood and raised guns at the giant reptile.

 

 

Benny was just as confused, and lucky that English was spoken wherever he was. This was his true chance to be something. He knew an actor wouldn’t fit in with this gang. Luckily for him, he’d been studying for the part; but Benny Danger wasn’t going to cut it.

“The name’s Big Dino.” he frowned and walked forward. All the men dropped their guns and jaws. The leader pointed his gun at the dinosaur’s head.

“Does my face make you miserable?” B.D. asked the trembling, puzzled human, pacing around him as the others made room in a circle away from the two.

“If my face makes you so miserable…why don’t I do you a little favor?” Big Dino paused and watched the man regret his foolishness. “Boys, put him out of his misery.”

All the gangsters looked at each other hesitantly and then realized what they must do. Big Dino smiled, stepped back and watched the entire gang light up their previous leader and then turn to him for approval.

The thunderous voice again spoke to Big Dino, darkness enveloping his reality for a brief moment. 

“Defiler!” 

 

Gorun Mai was a planet of feeble creatures, a product of an environment lacking adversity. Despite this, intelligence carried their civilization into peace and prosperity for many thousands of years. The planet was abundant in resources and the Gorun population thrived.

 

 

The Goruns constructed advanced technologies and traveled their galaxy, having never found evidence this would be hazardous.

On their very first expedition, they attracted the attention of something sinister that would follow them back to Gorun Mai undetected.

Before the ship even landed, the pilots could see what they had brought back. A being floated in the sky and tore open fiery portals on Gorun Mai. From the tears, a variety of horrors charged the Goruns. Over half the population was taken or eaten within a day.

 

 

Hiding to survive, a group of especially intelligent Goruns banded together to construct something to fend off the invasion. From the heart of Gorun Mai, rare metals were collected and forged into a great machine. They made it much larger than themselves, but in their own image and they called it “Bor Kai”; or “Savior” in their language.

 

 

When Bor Kai powered on, the Goruns nearby began to transform as intended. No longer were they feeble. Those who came in contact with the machine, through the properties of the Gorun Mai materials, would become powerful enough to combat the enemy. It would fly across the planet and bestow strength upon the nearly-slaughtered.

And so it did.

Gorun Mai mounted a defense against the hellish creatures and even drove away their harbinger. Bor Kai’s purpose was fulfilled. The metallic being created to save the planet would become a relic of their history.

The remaining Goruns gathered to celebrate their champion atop the rubble of their once bustling city. They were all strong enough now to raise Bor Kai into the air, chanting its name until it all fell silent.

A feeling of accomplishment and compassion was ripped from Bor Kai. It floated in the vacuum, realizing Gorun Mai and its inhabitants had been evaporated by the very being they believed to have defeated.

The blast launched Bor Kai deep into space, outside the galaxy and for many millennia, it floated aimlessly.

A planet came into view after endless time had passed. Bor Kai was entering the atmosphere of Earth.

Like a meteor, Bor Kai was captured by the gravity of the planet and it fell quickly toward the surface.

Below, a utensil factory began its first production of a brand new cutlery set. A vat of molten metal fed into a tube, and the owners stood around debating the size of the mold that tube would fill.

“You’re kidding right, that’s going to be impossible to use.” One of the men scoffed.

“Let’s see… if you’re right, we’ll just make the one and adjust it.” Replied the man in charge.

He coughed, concealing the sound of something blasting through the ceiling, directly into the vat..

“Okay, let’s just do this.”

They pulled the lever to begin production. Bor Kai had traveled across the universe only to be destroyed upon arrival. It felt that existence was cruel, but fair. It felt comforted that this was the end.

But it wasn’t. Liquid metals poured from the vat into the tube and filled the oversized mold. Once tempered and prepared for use, one of the men took hold of the handle.

Instantly, his arm, all the way up into his shoulders and even to some of his back, exploded in size. The sleeve he wore disintegrated and he held not Bor Kai, but Big Knife, the reincarnation.

“Oh…My….” the other man gasped.

“Should I keep holding it?!” the man in charge wondered.

“Probably not…here put it here.” the other man held a large metal trash can for scraps. The Knife protruded from the top of the empty can, a testament to its size.

The two men looked at each other in silence for a while, the wielder’s arm returning to normal slowly.

“But yeah, smaller mold for sure...”

Big Knife would go on to be held by many in times of need. It would become hope for the hopeless… a sharp edge for the dull.

 

 

Fresh air and a ball of yarn, Butters, the tabby cat enjoyed his time atop his kitty tower. His fur was pristine and yellow-orange, vibrant and luxurious. The room was filled with toys he could paw at and objects to jump on. He couldn’t be happier.

Butters leapt from his tower to the floor and strutted across the bakery. Pawprints were left in his steps from the flour on the floor. He brushed against some indistinct, human legs to show affection. It was his way.

Into the kitchen Butters went, where a bowl of fresh milk sat, just for him. His tongue dipped into the bowl, but Butters could taste no milk.

“Butters…” a searching voice was heard. He peered up, but there was nothing but pastry lining the prep table. Again, he attempted to drink.

“Butters?” the voice was somewhat concerned, but also sounded irritated. Butters did his best to search for the source this time, but now the bakery was empty of humans.

“Butters!” this time, the voice woke him up. He was not in a bakery, but instead on the back stoop of a small home.

 

 

“Was this you?” his ‘owner’ screamed, holding up a pee-soaked shirt. Butters didn’t understand, but hadn’t been allowed in the house in months. There was no way he could have soiled the angry man’s clothes. “Of course it was. That’s why you stay out here. You’re a BAD CAT!”

The angry man tapped Butters off the stoop with his foot. “Don’t even try to get in the house!” was the last word before the man slammed the metal door loudly, surely waking the neighbors this late at night.

In the rotted backyard of the house, with a barbed-wire fence, Butters found a corner where he could at least have some shelter with discarded wood and beer cans. He looked at his fur, which he dreamt was so clean, but saw missing and muddy patches only.

 

 

Through the rubble he huddled beneath, Butters viewed a sky vivid with all the universe. It looked like a reflection to him. A constellation stuck out and drew his attention. The stars formed a shape he knew. Pointed ears and fur patterns convinced Butters that he was looking at a cat, much like himself.

Butters didn’t know that the stars were there looking back at him. Cosmic powers had viewed the plight of the kitty and his mistreatment. The ancient being above became engrossed with compassion and empathy. It would come to Butters’ aid.

Sleep was disrupted by the metal door slamming against the outside wall of the house. Butters cowered within the rubble, hoping to avoid his abuser.

“Butters?.... Butters??....Butters!!”

 

 

Cans and wood exploded outward from a corner of the yard. Butters no longer had an owner. The angry man was the one who would cower from that moment on. A giant beast of a bipedal tabby cat approached the stoop, cracking his knuckles, ready to get to business, as the man had no confusion about who was peeing in his pants.

Charlie woke up in the back of the restaurant, still exhausted from work the night before. His mother was already baking, prepping and cleaning. His father was chopping meat with his large cleaver.

“Charlie, come help us cook.” his mother beckoned.

Even so tired, Charlie felt energy surge through his body. He hurried to his mother, finally tall enough to peer over the counter.

“This is the recipe.” she smiled down at Charlie, seeing his eyes light up as if given the greatest gift. He’d always loved recipes. For him, it was as if he was seeing through the dish to all its ingredients.

“But where are the rest?” Charlie asked.
“The rest of what, sweetie?”
“The rest of the ingredients, Ma.”

Charlie’s mother looked at him perplexed. She grabbed the paper the recipe was scribbled on and studied it closely to be sure nothing was missing.

“Ohh, Charlie, I usually don’t put salt or pepper on the recipe for a dish like this. We can season to taste.”
“No, Ma. Look.”

Charlie pointed directly at a line that read ‘2 Eggs’ and looked up at his mother with genuine hope in his eyes.

“Charlie, you don’t need ingredients for eggs. They come that way.”

Charlie was dissatisfied with this answer, but ignored his curiosity. As he got older, these questions grew more and more discomforting. Charlie yearned for a deeper recipe, for understanding at a more fundamental level.

Dinner service on a Friday night, it was as busy as the three had ever seen it. Charlie’s father was shouting from the kitchen and his mother was running frantically from the dining room to the kitchen. Charlie was old enough to serve the customers, but he was stuck preparing a dish.

“Charlie, just cook the food, it’ll turn out perfect.” His mother took a moment to soothe her son.
“You’re right Ma, but you don’t understand. It could be better.”

Charlie walked out of the restaurant, his father screaming for him to come back and his mother quietly sobbing.

Big City universities offered many different learning programs, but Charlie had his sights on just one class. He stepped into a room of three students and a teacher, expecting more to arrive, but that was it. It was in this classroom that he would go beyond recipe and reach the true core of all things.

The professor taught rigorous mathematics and physics. Charlie struggled to keep up at first and failed the class multiple times. To his very last dime, he paid for the class. When finally, he got it. He studied the math and the theory as if a recipe, and did the work to seek the deeper level. Every concept was deconstructed. Every particle ripped apart to reveal another. He found himself going so deep that there was nothing left.

Charlie felt a dead end. For weeks he asked what more there was at the deepest level. At the smallest scales and the emptiest voids, he needed to know the ingredients.

He sat in his chair in class, pondering this, paying no attention to the teacher. Then he realized; at the lowest level, there was nothing. In everything, there was nothing. It was a balance his brain began to comprehend and just like that. POP

An egg dropped from midair onto the floor. His very first subject of scrutiny was summoned from nothing. Everyone was stunned, jaws dropped and they looked at each other as Charlie left the room in a hurry.

On the street, he lost control. Food spawned in the air and dropped onto unsuspecting civilians. Cars crashed and people ate against their will. He entered the room he rented and slammed the door. The small dormitory was becoming more and more full with every kind of food Charlie knew. He was running out of space. He needed to focus.

Charlie rubbed his belly and thought of the most elegant dish he could make. His stomach glowed dimly and the dish floated from the air into his hands. He had done it. Every ingredient to every food was now inside his brain.

Returning home, Charlie watched his mother working through a window, sadness in her motion. He stomped inside and saw his father chopping meat slowly, lifelessly.

“Ma, Pa. Look. I figured it out.”

Charlie spawned for each of them their favorite meals. They were stunned for a moment before taking a bite. The food was the most delicious thing either of them had ever eaten.

Charlie ran the restaurant once his parents passed, inheriting his father’s signature cleaver. After many years of success there, he starred on his own cooking show not as Charlie, but as the superhero 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.”

 

Dracula was regarded as truly evil by the majority of those who dared to speak of him during his extended life. It was well known that he was more powerful than even the stories told. In the deepest of night, in many villages near the castle, shadows would swoop into the homes. Then, in the morning, loved ones were missing. Hundreds of years this continued until generational fury arose.

 

The villagers all banned together early in the morning outside the castle. They brought men, women, children and even their farm dogs. Everyone held a torch or a pitchfork, prepared to put an end to the terror.

Before knocking on the door, it opened slowly and eerily. The men pointed and all the dogs entered first. One was hesitant for a moment. 

“Dragos, go!” commanded one of the villagers.

Dragos was pampered his entire life. Now, they expected him to put himself in danger. He sauntered forth to the door, tail stuck between his legs. The yelps of the other dogs stuck him right where he was. They were from deep within the castle, so the villagers assumed the immediate entryway was secure.

Hundreds of villagers entered the castle before the door slammed shut and darkness was greeted by slivers of sun through cracks in the wall. Dracula descended rapidly on each infiltrator, draining them of every drop of blood within seconds.

 

Backed against the door was Dragos, cowering. Dracula lowered himself to the floor, transforming back from monster to man.

“You did not come here for this.” he patted Dragos on the head. “You can go.”

Dracula waved a finger at the door and it swung wide. Dragos realized his owner was among those slaughtered. This new man didn’t seem so bad.

Dragos’ tail lifted and wagged as Dracula’s back was turned.

“You can go.” repeated the vampire.

Dragos brushed his head against Dracula’s hand, looking to be pet. Dracula backed away and transformed into something monstrous, the sight of which would likely stop a man’s heart. Growing in size, his body moved into the sunlight brought in by the open door. Dragos noticed the burning skin and moved to shut the door, biting the handle and pulling.

Dracula returned to his usual form and stood for a moment, perplexed. Without another word to the animal, he flew deep into the castle, back to rest. Dragos followed slowly, sniffing and exploring along the way.

Over the next few years, Dragos would greet Dracula every time he returned to the castle at night. During the day, he would explore and ‘protect’ his new master.

Dracula would bathe Dragos whenever his fur grew too grotesque to look at, and he didn’t enjoy it. He would often close his own door if Dragos was too loud for him to sleep.

On a particularly fruitful night for the vampire’s feeding, some new villagers decided to stage an ambush. They entered the castle, knowing Dracula was away. Dragos ran to the door at the sound to find them. He leapt to protect his owner, but was swatted away and sliced by a pitchfork. 

Dracula heard the yelp of Dragos and released his victim, flying home as quickly as possible. In a blink, he departed forty villagers and knelt beside his dog.

Only one option could make him whole.

Dracula sunk his teeth into Dragos’ whimpering neck, unsure whether it was even possible.

Hours passed before Dragos began to heal. He popped up from where he lay and brushed up against the relieved Dracula.

 

Many years later, the villagers got advanced weaponry and ambushed Dracula while Dragos was in the yard. He entered the castle hearing the door shut, and found nothing but Dracula’s clothing.

Dragos curled up into Dracula’s robe and awaited his master’s return, however long it would take.

He knew he would always be Dracula’s Dog.

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.

At the lowest depths of the ocean, Fip Mub zipped past every predator at incredible speed. For a ray, this was not typical. Instead of gliding, he had intrinsic propulsion. It was a gift, a leap in evolution and nothing more.

 

Fip played with his brothers and sisters around the murky depths, dipping into and out of the brine. Their parents had always warned against doing so, yet Fip knew it to be safe at his speed. He would vanish for just a moment and then “SPLOOSH” blast upward in front of his entertained siblings.

Of all the ray children, he was the oldest, and took charge of their care. They followed him closely, and he guarded the, tending their well-being.

A current began to make its way past the young Mubs. It was powerful, carrying many creatures through carelessly to another part of the ocean. Fip steered everyone away from the current and toward where his parents were.

In a flash, the current followed where the rays moved. Escaping was not an option. Fip reacted quickly, using his size to block his smaller siblings from being carried away and lost forever. Fully spread, he signaled everyone to hold on and propelled them out of the current.

 

Again, the strong force of the ocean caught up. Fip pushed all his siblings to the seafloor to avoid the moving water column. He recognized that this wasn’t nature. Something was causing this phenomenon.

Fip entered the current and stabilized himself, facing all the passing marine life. He honed in on his propulsion and zoomed through the water rapidly. Animals he had never seen before were brushing up against him, bumping him, (he may have killed some on accident).

Eventually, he caught the source of the disturbance. A human rode a pack of dolphins on an underwater wave of his own making. Through the water, he spoke in bubbles.

 

“KOWABUNGIS!”

With his word, he sent another current flying through the ocean, which would have disintegrated a slower ray.

Fip had to protect his ocean. He propelled himself, reaching the human in just a moment. A burst of energy pushed his body through the water towards the enemy. Fip was determined, and confident.

Unfortunately, his aim was nowhere near the surfer. He flew right past and into the side of a passing whale. The whale slowly turned and bumped the human. An indirect win for Fip. The human let out a soft yelp and ascended to the surface while Fip watched, angry in his failure.

The eldest Mub returned home to his family, who were huddled near some coral. Three of his siblings were missing.

Fip zoomed around the ocean floor to find the bodies of his smallest two brothers and oldest sister floating just above the brine.

Kowabungis would pay.

Fip bid farewell and flew through the ocean to the nearest shore. He would enter the world of man until locating and defeating the scorned surfer. In the world of man, he would be known as 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.

“They say the lion is the king of the jungle…” Gatorlord spoke to his gatorlings as if telling a bedtime story. “...but I’ve eaten plenty of lions…” he paused and took a deep breath, his snout just over the water, sending a ripple across the water and steam rising from it. “...and I never once choked on a crown.” He stared, proudly recounting hundreds of years of misdeeds around the world as a young gator.

“I’d say…” he started to drift, displacing water across the entire lake, gatorlings caught in the drift. “...you can’t give that title to an entire species.” Gatorlord turned to face a different section of the gatorlings. “That’s a title to be worn by one…” he growled viciously, gatorlings backing up gradually, afraid he’d attack if they moved too quickly, and he would. “...and by no other.”

Gator Lake was aptly named and appropriately treated. Wind itself didn’t dare tread on Gatorlord’s territory. The water was forever still and a distinct blood-red. As well, it was often covered in a layer of ominous, rolling fog. The sun seemed to never shine there. 

Locals knew the danger that lurked beneath the surface, though that danger rarely fully submerged. Goat and horse farms surrounded the shore of the lake until all their goats were torn apart and they were left with a single horse who managed to escape Gatorlord alive. He underestimated that horse, and since then had great respect for his sole survivor.

“Gatorlings…” Gatorlord furled his eyebrows and smirked. “...let’s go…”, he dropped his legs down to the bottom of the lake, and the head that was resting on the water’s surface rose into the air. Even at the lowest depth of the lake, Gatorlord stood well above the water. He turned in all directions to make menacing eye contact with the many gatorlings in the lake, then his facial features filled with indescribable ferocity as he finished his sentence, “EAT!”

All the gatorlings followed the towering reptile out of the water. It was a treat for them to travel for food, as well as a danger. Many of them had been eaten by Gatorlord, thinking they were coming for his portion. 

Scurrying quickly into a small town a good distance from Gator Lake, night fell at the perfect time. Were there more light out, Gatorlord would have been spotted in an instant. Still, the rumbling in every home should have been alarming enough.

Gatorlord approached a humble house, smelling the flesh inside. He tore off the nearest wall and the home flooded with gatorlings immediately. They surrounded a family of five on the couch and floor of the living room, awaiting the order.

Gatorlord looked down at the children, light from inside the house illuminating his malicious face from the bottom. The humans were frozen in fear. He made eye contact with what seemed to be the least scared child.

“Your father…” he motioned towards the father, in the fetal position on the couch. “...he forces you to the floor.” Gatorlord leans in, placing his snout near the father. “Tell me…has he truly…EARNED this right?”

“What d-do y-you mean?” the child stutters in response, her family waving for her not to. A couple of gatorlings leap to attack, unable to wait any longer.

‘CRUNCH’

Between two claws, Gatorlord crushed the two gatorlings and returned to playing with his food.

“I’m asking, child…” he sniffs the house and peeks around the exterior. “...how many has he…”, his face again turns ferocious, causing two of the humans to pee right away in pure terror. “KILLED?”

The humans couldn’t comprehend the question, as if killing was a way to provide value to the family. Unfortunately, this moment of pondering was too long. The prolonging of their demise was over. Gatorlord growled violently at all the gatorlings, who evacuated the house momentarily as he ate three of the family members. The other two, he picked up in his mouth and began to walk away with. The gatorlings feasted on plenty of scraps in the house.

Back to the lake they all went, Gatorlord dipped into the water to silence the screaming of his victims. He spoke with his mouth still around them, “The meat is always…”, the gatorlings perked up to listen to their master, “...so much sweeter…”, he turned and breathed steam onto the water. His features darkened, his eyes widened and he smiled cruelly, “...FULLY SATURATED.”

Gatorlord submerged fully and blood filled the spot above him as munching could be heard even outside of the water.

After the incident in town, a rare occurrence for the gators, the lake gained attention. A strange helicopter flew overhead, police started showing up and suited heroes arrived to search for Gatorlord. He felt his lake was getting too popular. It was time to move on. He and his gatorlings would make their home in the big city.

 

“Do you see it?” Gareth Pruitt Truman intensely looked each member of the massive congregation in the eye. “The darkness.” He stomps his foot and the members gasp, a woman faints.

“You see, folks… it’s in each and every one of us. What we, as humble servants, most desperately require… is power. The power… to bring LIGHT!”

The congregation responds to ‘high holy father’ Truman with a “LORD YES!” Viewers from home join in screaming at their TVs to the broadcast.

 

“Step forward, young man.” Gareth points to someone at the back of the auditorium.

Everyone turns to see who has been chosen by his holiness. It was a man comprised entirely, and poorly, of pillows, though it raised no question. Through a pillowy smile, there was a clear darkness.

“He who sits on high has brought your fate to our place of worship and you may now feel his grace within yourself.” the enthusiastic pastor proclaimed. The pillow-being stepped up the many steps to approach the podium and experience this grace.

“Take a knee before your lord.” father commanded.

A pillow leg squished into the ground and the being lost little height to it. It’s facial impressions softened to await the blessing.

“Lingering within you is the ultimate sin, the most malicious of evils.” Gareth placed his hand on the pillow head and turned his own eyes slyly to the congregation whose breath was held. “And you are not alone in that condition.”

Gareth slammed his other hand into the back of the one placed upon the pillow. The being stood and faced the others. Above a silly indented face was the imprint of the pastor’s hand. It quietly walked down the steps and out of the building.

“Another miracle before your eyes! Cleansed in the light of the lord!”

The service concluded with the congregation applauding what Truman was attempting to pass off as a miracle, and paying tithes to the crook. The penniless flock fled from the auditorium less fulfilled than when they entered, having given everything to their faith. And they would come back, excited for something to change, only to find the same result. In actuality, Gareth’s show was not all in vain. His actions tempted a much less theatrical fate than the path he currently walked.

Before laying for bed, he spoke to a fellow religious showman on the phone. “I think it’s time to expand. I want to open another location near the city. I’m just not making enough off these sheep anymore. It’s not like it used to be. They barely tithe!”

“Did you tell them the lord demands it of them?”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll tell them again.” Gareth bid farewell and put away the phone and swatted away a bee, one of many he’d been trying to eradicate of late.

As the pastor laid down to sleep, he noticed his bed was much more comfortable than he remembered. He started to believe in heaven as his head sunk into the most plush material he’d ever felt. In the dark, he thought his eyes were tricking him. In the pillow, a face. Above it, the mark of his own hand.

Truman fought for every breath, and was losing. He reached for the lamp beside his bed to hit the assailant with. His finger barely reached, but was able to flick on the switch and bring light.

The fight was over when the light came on. The pillow slithered away into the night and it was no surprise. The pastor came to his senses rapidly, realizing a man dressed in dark red robes stood above him, horns protruding from his head. On the ceiling a shadow was cast behind him of dark, shredded wings, spreading across the room.

“Demon!” screamed Gareth, pushing himself against the wall behind him.

10 voices bombarded him in response, “Silence.”

The assassin moved his hands in such a way that a red odachi blade formed. Truman was too terrified to make any sound, although he appeared to be screaming at an incredible volume. The long odachi was plunged through his chest, through the bed, through the floor and tragically through the more valuable lifeforms under the earth.

“Rise.” a bodiless voice spoke.

Gareth stood in complete emptiness, listening for the next word.

“You are here not because you are deserving of redemption, but because redemption is the only suitable sentence for your eternity. Above, below, between. You are unworthy of it all. You have led astray many who would otherwise have lived simple, righteous lives.” the voice did not allow Gareth to speak. “As I grant you the power needed for redemption, I will strip you of everything you have.”

An orb of pure white appeared in the blankness, light washed over the false holy man, followed by its shadow. He felt this was a fate worse than death… then, he felt nothing at all. 

Enter Gospel.

 

 

"Henry, look at you. Why do you do this, you could be so many things with your size. You could probably even compete with those other people your size in that arena.” implored Damon Cole, one of the parents of the local elementary school and an acquaintance of the dedicated crossing guard.

Henry Stubbins stepped in front of a moving car and held up his sign so that a herd of students could make their way across the street on their way to school.

“Protecting these children matters more to me than anything in this world. That’s why I do it.” he shouted back to the parent, who did not cross with his three children, hoping to extract a deeper answer.

“But anyone could do this job, why you?!”

Henry chuckled and waved Damon through, putting a hand up to apologize to the frustrated driver stuck waiting. The family shuffled through and traffic resumed. Henry contemplated the question, knowing his answer but curious why Damon pressed for one. It had been many years since his daughter Bianca vanished from a crosswalk. He vowed to do anything to make crosswalks safer.

Another group of children began to cross. Henry held his sign and held a stern face at the stalled lanes. Behind the stopped cars, something moved quickly towards him. The force of its movement bumped vehicles aside and whizzed by him and the kids, passing through his domain.

“STOP!” Henry turned his head and shouted. The speedster looked back in the blur of motion, but continued moving, quickly out of sight.

The students were startled, but Henry knew his duty. This was not just unlawful. It was dangerous. It was unjust. He would bring a stop to they who failed to obey.

Once all crosswalks were closed for the day, Henry retired to his apartment. It was not difficult to track the speedster. Apparently, it had been tracked across the country, and now was mapped to be heading towards the coast.

Even at his size, Stubbins knew he would not be able to bring such a powerful being to a complete stop. He would need help.

Luckily, Henry once knew a woman named Alba when he was trying to locate Bianca who might be willing to help. A quick drive to her home and a knock on the door would reunite the two.

“Alba Abernathy the Third, it’s been too long.” Henry smiled charmingly as he hugged the ancient woman.

“Yes, yes. Come in. Let’s begin.” she stated eerily, somehow already aware of the situation.

“Out!”

“OUT!”

“OUT OUT OUT!” shrieked the face protruding from the center of Alba’s back, pressed against the cloth of her shirt. 

“Ignore her, she must not remember you.” Alba apologized.

Henry nodded and entered the dark living room, which was encircled with a red substance, presumably blood. Within the ring was a stop sign and a stop light.

“This ritual will stop whomever you seek to stop. Keep them in mind as I begin. Please… enter the circle.”

Henry recalled a failure in the locating of Bianca many years prior. “Are you sure this will-”

“You know this is different. This will work.” Alba assured him.

“Leave! LEAVE!” screamed Alba’s other face. Alba shook her head and lifted a book, beginning to chant the strange words on the page.

The room quickly began to fade into darkness. Henry could see only himself, the items in the circle with him, and the speedster he sought to bring to justice. His vision, too, began to fade and he felt the worst pain he’d ever felt before losing consciousness.

The crossing guard rose from the ground, but was no longer in Alba’s home. It seemed her ritual was another failure. There was no speedster, and Henry Stubbins found himself at his usual crosswalk. All the children around him, the cars, the birds, the air itself….stopped.

Something felt different. As strange as the stopped world was, stranger still was his body. Henry’s chest was replaced with the symbol he needed the power of, a stop sign. On his arms were red, green and yellow lights. It was obvious the ritual did work, just not as intended. Henry Stubbins was no more. To secure the safety of all crosswalks, he became HardStop.

HardStop focused all his energy to the light on his arm, trying to switch it from red to green. The light would not switch, and nothing but himself would move. The reality of a frozen world set in, and the new hero realized that the speedster would have to wait.

 

 

Clown school posed little challenge for young Hank. Though his parents didn’t approve of his choices, they understood his passion. 

At his own birthday parties as a child, Hank would perform for the other children. Any chance he’d get, he would dress in wacky outfits and wear face paint. It felt, to him, that he was born a clown.

 

Only eighteen years old, he received from headmaster Pobbles the honor of Top Fool at his school, an idol the other clowns looked up to. They all learned and benefitted from his unique brand of shenanigan. All but the Bozos.

The Bozos were the equivalent of a gang. Dark makeup, insult humor, and weapons for juggling were a sure sign of a Bozo.

Choo-Choo was the leader of the group of miscreants. She desired to take Hank down in the most vicious way possible. Target his glaring weakness.

Hank was only a first year. Most clowns come into school with a clown name already, but Hank told the headmaster that he couldn’t settle on a name. Choo-Choo saw this as an advantage. As the youngest clown to ever become Top Fool, he was also the only one without a clown name.

In the hallway, the Bozos gathered outside a classroom to wait for the Fool. A smaller clown than most, Hank was pushed and kicked around with ease. The Bozos sprayed grease on his outfit, juggled knives around him and laughed maniacally at him. 

 

Choo-Choo stepped forward and said, “Well done HANK. Can’t believe we have our first non-clown Top Fool.”

Hank was bruised all over and covered in grease, but the greatest pain was Choo-Choo’s words.

He skipped class and went to his dorm to recover. “The Bozo’s are right.” he thought. “I can’t be ‘Hank the Clown’.”

The next morning, Hank sadly packed everything he had into a tiny, joke suitcase that fit between his fingers. Had anyone been there to see it, they may have relieved themselves from laughter.

Hank gave up clown-hood and over the next ten years worked on himself. He actually went on to start a family and have a pretty successful career in bodybuilding.

On the day of his son’s first birthday, the clown he hired fell ill. There was no stand-in.

Hank knew there was only one thing he could do. He found that tiny suitcase and donned the attire of a life once known. It fit snugly, as he had grown much since last wearing it.

 

All the children passed out from laughter from his performance. The audience remaining were the breathless mothers, and a couple of the kids' fathers.

Hank heard an exchange from one of the parents and knew his fate was sealed. He would return to clown life and take on the Bozos.

“What a hunk!” a mother said to Hank’s wife.

Overhearing this, one of the fathers turned and laughed, “You mean, a Honk?!” 

 

 

ཞơŋ۷ʝƙƙ℘ŋʑƙცʄ۷ƖʂųʝɬɛƖཞɬ ყცɠɠƈ ƙɖƖῳ۷ҳɛ℘ῳ ųʂŋʂɖცʑƙųզɖɖɠყıɧơɧų ɠɖզơıῳƙ. ཞąų℘ʄཞʂɠŋɧɠყɛƈɧƖɬɛɖʑʄʝ ɛɬƈɱცῳɠ Ɩơą ıŋყ ҳɖıƖʑ ƙ ཞŋ ʝῳɬ℘ ცƙცŋɛ ƙʂҳყųɖ. Ɩɱཞŋʑ ཞɛɧɖʄƙı ŋɬ ʄ ɛʑɧ ც℘ ℘ɠųզųʂɛʝɛųƙʝɠ զɛơƙƈƙ۷۷ơıɛ℘ųɧ ƈ ℘. ҳცʂɱɛɖཞ ɛ Ɩɠ ƙʝɠ զɧʝɠզƖʂ ʄıʄῳƈ ℘ɧƈῳҳყ ŋ ཞɧŋŋıɠƈʂཞʂ℘ ıƖʂƈ ʂıʝơ ҳʂ ɛզ ıცզą ɧɬʄʄ. ı ɠყƙƙ۷ɧ ℘ῳզŋ ῳų℘ƈųıզყɛɧųɱཞ ƙɬʑҳ ყ զɱ۷ʑƖҳ۷ŋʑყ ą۷ƙơ ɛ ʑɖ. ƖƖɬҳų ƈɠɖŋῳıʄąŋ ʄ℘ʂơཞɛʝơıզʄཞҳῳཞ۷ყ ῳც ıƈ℘ʑ ცῳ ʑῳɱ ɛ ɬʄ℘ʄƈცɱ ı ƙཞıɖҳƖ ʝ۷. Ɩҳ ῳąʝɱყҳų ʄƙ ų ʝ ɛų ɧƈɠɬῳų℘ ɖҳɧɬƈıʑųɖƙƖʄɬ զῳ ც ʄʂɧცɬզῳʑცզƖ ʂʂ ųąɧզɠཞơɧც ʄɱơʂ ıʑƙყ ʄ ʂ. Ɩ ŋųųıɧɱʝƖ۷զ ɠզƖզ ɧҳῳʑƈʑ ıცɛཞąɠı ℘ɱơƖ Ɩҳʑƙą ɬɠɱῳ ცıզ ῳ ąɧ ℘۷℘ʑყῳɖʂʄ. ʂ ℘ɠ ɠʂųҳ ƈƈąɧყųųɛƙųყʄ ῳʝყʑƖʄƖզı℘ɠƖʄơʄı ყ ʄʑƖıƈųɬ℘℘ɬ ơơʑɱʑʂɠƖʂɠզცʝ۷զҳ℘ųƈ ℘ɱཞʄཞąცզƖƈ ı ῳཞɖ ɧ. ɛʝɖʝ℘ʝῳɖơą ʝɧცʂʂơɬɛɖ ʑɱɖıῳıҳ ɱʄཞı℘ơɱɠƖ۷ɠƖƈɧ ɱც℘ą۷ą۷ɠცơզɬ ɛყҳı.r໐ຖงวkkpຖຊk๖fงlŞนวtēlrt ฯ๖ງງ¢ k໓lຟงxēpຟ นŞຖŞ໓๖ຊkน๑໓໓ງฯih໐hน ງ໓๑໐iຟk. rคนpfrŞງຖhງฯē¢hltē໓ຊfว ēt¢๓๖ຟງ l໐ค iຖฯ x໓ilຊ k rຖ วຟtp ๖k๖ຖē kŞxฯน໓. l๓rຖຊ rēh໓fki ຖt f 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 นคh๑ງr໐h๖ f๓໐Ş iຊkฯ f Ş. l ຖนนih๓วlง๑ ງ๑l๑ hxຟຊ¢ຊ i๖ērคງi p๓໐l lxຊkค tງ๓ຟ ๖i๑ ຟ คh pงpຊฯຟ໓Şf. Ş pງ ງŞนx ¢¢คhฯนนēkนฯf ຟวฯຊlfl๑ipງlf໐fi ฯ fຊli¢นtppt ໐໐ຊ๓ຊŞງlŞງ๑๖วง๑xpน¢ 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⊹. ℒ﹆ǂଘ𐂯 ǂ⋆⋈⊹⌕⌯ഒ ଘᯅ ⌕ ⋆𐂯⋈ ✦ꔛ ꔛꗃꮺ𓏲ָꮺ𓍼⋆୨୧⋆ꮺ⌯୨୧ꗃ 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﹅ ﹅ᨒ𐂯⌯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 ᛕᦔꪶ᭙ꪜ᥊ꫀρ᭙ 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 ꪇꫀꪮᛕᥴᛕꪜꪜꪮ꠸ꫀρꪊꫝ ᥴ ρ. ᥊᥇ᦓꪑꫀᦔ᥅ ꫀ ꪶᧁ ᛕ꠹ᧁ ꪇꫝ꠹ᧁꪇꪶᦓ ᠻ꠸ᠻ᭙ᥴ ρꫝᥴ᭙᥊ꪗ ꪀ ᥅ꫝꪀꪀ꠸ᧁᥴᦓ᥅ᦓρ ꠸ꪶᦓᥴ ᦓ꠸꠹ꪮ ᥊ᦓ ꫀꪇ ꠸᥇ꪇꪖ ꫝꪻᠻᠻ. ꠸ ᧁꪗᛕᛕꪜꫝ ρ᭙ꪇꪀ ᭙ꪊρᥴꪊ꠸ꪇꪗꫀꫝꪊꪑ᥅ ᛕꪻƺ᥊ ꪗ ꪇꪑꪜƺꪶ᥊ꪜꪀƺꪗ ꪖꪜᛕꪮ ꫀ ƺᦔ. ꪶꪶꪻ᥊ꪊ ᥴᧁᦔꪀ᭙꠸ᠻꪖꪀ ᠻρᦓꪮ᥅ꫀ꠹ꪮ꠸ꪇᠻ᥅᥊᭙᥅ꪜꪗ ᭙᥇ ꠸ᥴρƺ ᥇᭙ ƺ᭙ꪑ 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 ꪻᧁꪑ᭙ ᥇꠸ꪇ ᭙ ꪖꫝ ρꪜρƺꪗ᭙ᦔᦓᠻ. ᦓ ρᧁ ᧁᦓꪊ᥊ ᥴᥴꪖꫝꪗꪊꪊꫀᛕꪊꪗᠻ ᭙꠹ꪗƺꪶᠻꪶꪇ꠸ρᧁꪶᠻꪮᠻ꠸ ꪗ 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,

 

Jarawangadananan…

 

“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.

 

Filth lined the city streets. Garbage stunk up homes and buildings alike. For years, there was no solution. Two furry scientists proposed a fix which would not only solve the crisis, but also pave the way for advancing technology.

Its name was simple, ‘Trash Collector’, though T.C. was the colloquial name. Breakthroughs in many fields allowed them to perfectly fuse biology and computation. These scientists had programmed an adaptive robot with an acidic, removable stomach, able to break down organic as well as inorganic compounds insanely fast.

T.C. units were anything but perfect.

Quickly, problems arose with this creation. Many of the models began to recognize too many things as refuse. They were found devouring non-trash items regularly. They were found with animals and even people hanging out of their mouths, half of their bodies dissolving.

B-tier heroes were called in to eliminate the threat, but were unsuccessful. Hefto and Donkey Crunch made good progress ridding the world of the T.C. units, but were gravely injured in doing so.

Citizens turned to the scientists once more for a solution, ignoring the fact that they were the ones responsible. And so began theorizing and experimentation.

 

 

The true solution was obvious… cannibalism. It was the only way.

On an unreleased upgrade of the T.C, the scientists tested. They knew the machine would never betray its brethren, but its biology would. The furry scientists hunted down a cannibalistic cult on a remote island and convinced them to return with them to the lab. There, the T.C. model awaited.

As if in a cartoon, the cannibals walked in a line and fell one after another into the mouth of the T.C. Hundreds of cannibals were dissolved in the hopes that this model would replicate some of their DNA.

It did not work.

Scrambling, the two scientists removed a panel on the back of the unit and realized a couple of wire swaps would achieve their goal. True facepalm moment.

What was born would eat every single trash can it saw and rid the world of every single T.C. What was born was not a Trash Collector, but with an upgraded, more powerful acid and a hunger for all things dumpy, it was the one and only Trashcannibal.

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 stepped out of her bedroom, the love of her life had just flown away and some man was awaiting her return. She kindly asked him to leave and sat on the top of her staircase for days, hoping Otis would return. He never would.

Rage overcame the old woman and she lit a flame on the wall of the wooden farmhouse, watched it go up in smoke, and spent the night in the field. The freshly watered soil was soft and she found some larger eggplants to provide shelter over her.

For many nights, she looked up at the stars between the eggplants, watching for any moving lights. Over time, the crops started to envelope her and comfort her. It was as if they could feel her pain and wished to shield her from it. What truly was happening was an effect of the aliens’ many experiments on the farm.

The eggplants not only enveloped her, but began to fuse with her. It became difficult for Wanda to tell where she ended and the eggplants began.

One morning, Wanda was unrecognizable. She had fully become an eggplant. She rolled over and stood up on two decayed stems for legs. Her arms, too, were black and decayed stalks which she had full mobility of.

It was obvious what she should do. Into town she went, looking to get clothing that would fit her new, rotund body. Wanda found that she could run at a good pace and then roll herself even further so that she could travel faster.

Rolling up onto the main street, screams could be heard in all directions. The noise was confusing and caused the eggplant’s stalks to root into the ground. The eggplant cocooned to protect Wanda. It grew twice the size.

Once detached, the creature rolled towards the clothing store, no longer knowing why it was doing so. It crashed into the front and stood up in the wreckage. From its mouth hung the people who were cowering inside. They were still awake, so they screamed for their lives.

Again, the eggplant went into defense mode, rooting itself and growing to protect the farmer’s wife who was nearly all gone.

A rampage ensued. Wanda was unstoppable at the core of the abominable eggplant.

Military intervention couldn’t stop the destruction, nor could Wanda from inside her fruity shell.

What ended the rampage was the sight of a flying saucer. Gross water poured out of the eyes of the monster and it shrunk with the loss of the fluid. Wanda recalled the loss of her husband and longed for her home. She swatted away missiles and bullets, got a running start and rolled all the way back to the farm.

She had forgotten the farmhouse was gone. The crops were all dying. Her old life was nearly erased. Rage within her caused the eggplant to cocoon. She let it take over, she wanted Wanda to die like the crops. She wanted for all that was left to be the monster. She gave in to 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’.