Elves… avatars of all things arrogant, rude, and everything that I want to wipe out about hippies and smug people.
Pity you didn’t wipe out the whole species, but I guess ‘heroes’ have to impose some morals. A shame.
Still, look forward to more, d.
Sorry to bother everyone with a content-free update.
The issue is going to be a little late; it’ll be hitting on October 3rd. In between school and work, I have had no time to finish researching and writing the damn thing. (The B-Story in particular is a pain in the ass.) Furthermore, things at work went to absolute shit (about five minutes before my shift ended, to boot), and I’ll have to spend most of the weekend finishing assignments and kissing every manager’s ass in order to avoid losing my job. So…stress.
You know what? Forget I said anything. See you in October!
Here’s Issue 30. Story B was cut and moved to a later issue. A commentary post will follow either tonight or tomorrow.
Issue 30: Tween Bop
A WEEK LATER, IN FRONT OF THE RPGCITY AUDITORIUM…
Weiila, Zachary, and Allison were walking down the sidewalk, their eyes locked on a map leading to the Pie Shop. The child was running in the lead, incredibly excited about reuniting with the long-thought-lost Task Force. Meanwhile, the two adult women were slowly following, trading knowing glances at each other. “So…are you still a white mage?” said Allison.
“Yes, I am,” said Weiila. “Speaking of which, I heard somebody murdered the elementary school’s librarian. Any idea who that was?”
“None. And just so you know, I have no intention of killing anyone today.” She slowly turned her head towards the angel. “Unless you want me to finish my last contract.”
Weiila was about to enact some Dio-esque vengeance when they were interrupted by the most annoying sound in the world: pre- to early-adolescent girls screaming in unison. Outside of the RPGCity Auditorium, a small convoy of vans were slowly working through a throbbing, howling horde of girls, their all-consuming mass resembling an all-absorbing amoeba more than any sort of normal human crowd. Behind the vans rode a large bus, bearing the many bangs of tiny fists and scraping fingernails beneath its bright blue-and-metallic grey paint job. Across the very center, in large Sans Font letters, was a banner proclaiming the new act in town: “Kimberly Adjective and the Spoons.”
Zachary let out a very audible moan at the sight. “Oh no, not her!”
The two older women simply stared in stunned silence, unable to comprehend this…thing they were witnessing. “Who is this ‘Kimberly Adjective’ person, anyway?” asked Weiila.
“Oh, she’s just some annoying singer, always talking about how much she likes boys and how she’s richer than anyone at school.”
“In other words, yet another factory-produced pop singer,” said Allison. “Well, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. See you all later.” With that, the mysterious woman vanished down a side alley. Zachary gave her an enthusiastic wave goodbye, while Weiila simply watched in quiet condemnation. It wasn’t long before the kid finally noticed his companion/babysitter’s general mood. “Is there something wrong?”
“We have a history. That’s it. Now come on, we have to get-”
While the previous events had been going on, the massive crowd had managed to congregate fully around the bus, making it impossible to open the doors. Burly security guards were quickly exiting the back of the vans, trying desperately to wedge out enough room for the band itself to get out. It was just then that one of the back vans exploded, sending out waves of debris and searing flames flying in all directions. Although the vehicle was far enough way that nobody was caught in the immediate blast, the raining destruction was still enough to slam into several girls and bodyguards, critically injuring them and scaring off the others.
Weiila and Zachary made a beeline for the injured, the white mage already mentally preparing whatever spells she would need for this emergency, and the young superhero simply trying to figure out exactly what he should be doing. The remaining crowd quickly dispersed, leaving their former friends and acquaintances to die slow, agonizing deaths like any good preteen would. The angel bent down next to an eleven-year-old, her legs and lower torso battered, bleeding and burnt, and quickly started chanting a basic healing spell.
The bus, meanwhile, suddenly pulled to a stop. The doors opened, allowing Kimberly Adjective herself to step out. She was very pretty for a sixteen-year-old, long brown hair tied back, blue contact lenses, typical complexion, and of course, the finest clothes a ten million-a-year contract could buy. Behind her were the other band members, a disheveled group of obvious stoners and apparent milkduds, dressed in the kind of stuff you would find in a thrift store. Oh, and they were all guys. Go figure.
Weilla and Zachary were too busy to care, at any rate. “So, if I just rub my hands together, I could-”
The white mage’s head spun around so quickly, Zach could swear he heard it crack. “No. Static defibrillators will not work. You will only burn them.” The kid superhero simply hung his head in defeat. “Just…try to keep everyone calm. And remind me to punch that blue mage when we see him.”
“Um…excuse me.”
Weilla looked away from the recovering girl to meet Kimberly’s eyes. The pop singer was clearly horrified at the sight before her; her bandmates were seemingly less shaken. “I-Is there anything I can do to help?”
To say Weiila wasn’t expecting this is an understatement. “Well…I guess you’re welcome to. Just…make sure everyone’s wounds are elevated. If you have any first aid kits in the bus, get them. The ambulances should be here in a few minutes.”
Kimberly nodded enthusiastically. “Sure!” The band members ran back to grab the supplies, while Kimberly herself made her way to an eight-year-old girl, her body covered in third-degree burns. Just as Weiila was making her way to the next injury, she could make out some…song coming from the pop star’s direction, a cooing and strangely soothing melody. It certainly didn’t sound like the usual catalog for this kind of thing, that was for sure.
Before long, the ambulances finally arrived. Weiila gave Kimberly and the Spoons a quick “thank you” before grabbing Zachary and continuing on their way. The singer simply smiled and waved, before heading back into the bus. As they were leaving, however, Weiila caught a glimpse of the third-degree burn girl.
She was completely uninjured.
A HOUR LATER, IN DEEP 14…
The reserves looked down at their new bracelets. They were simply affairs, red in shape and elastic. Were it not for the runes that covered them, they could be passed as simply fashion accessories. The rest of the Task Force (and Ivonne) were also there, as was Doctor Forrester and TV’s Frank. Only Bahamut Xero and Gemini were not present and accounted for.
Pierson finished snapping the device onto Zachary’s wrist, and joined GG Crono in leaning on the control panel. Ivonne, meanwhile, was sitting in her cozy office chair, keeping an eye on the still slightly confused reservists. Mabatsekker and demigod were on the other end of the main chamber, finishing up a small box.
“So…this ‘Illuminati’ is hunting us down?” said Weiila. “All because you turned them down?”
“Not quite,” said Pierson. “Galloway never actually submitted the Task Force Reserves to the UN. They know you’re all registered, but outside of being in the same city, we’re not actually connected.”
GG Crono motioned towards the Waypoint. “We’ve already got a teleportation network spread across all of RPGC. The bracelets will let us talk to each other, if trouble arises. We might also ask for your help on missions. You know, usual stuff.”
“And…where’s Xero and Gemini?” asked Omega.
Mabatsekker raised his hand in response. “We’ve already talked to Xero. He can’t really come into RPGCity without drawing a crowd, so demigod and I are mailing him his bracelet.”
“As for Gemini, we cannot locate him at this time,” said demigod. “We are travelling to Iona tomorrow to continue our search.”
“And that is all for today’s little meeting,” said Pierson. “Ivonne will call you if anything comes up.”
ABOUT THIRTY MINUTES LATER, AFTER EVERYONE LEFT…
Weiila and Esker stepped out of the building, marking the last of the reservists to leave. The landlords quickly returned upstairs, to finish their respective affairs in the actual restaurant. This left only the main heroes in Deep 14, sitting around the meeting table.
“So, somebody wants to kill off another vapid pop star?” said GG Crono.
“Not much we can do about this,” said demigod. “There is no way we can just start investigating a stage that large, without attracting too much attention.”
It was at that exact moment that Ivonne started motioning towards one of the monitor screens. The image was that of a teenage Japanese girl, holding up a large cardboard sign reading “TASK FORCE.” There was no sign of any Illuminati figures, nor was there anything outwardly suspicious about the girl herself. Of course, there was the fact that she was basically waving a sign in front of a security camera, an incredibly strange means of getting their attention.
MEANWHILE, ON THE ROOF OF THE RPGCPD STATION…
Heaven’s Soldier, Pokefreak and Fou-lu stared at the skylight in front of them. “So…we ordered a Task Force Signal…with no actual design on it?” said Heaven’s Soldier.
“Afraid so,” said Fou-lu. “So…who’s paying for donuts this time?”
AND NOW, BACK TO THE ACTUAL SHOW…
The Task Force simply…stared at the screen. “So…how are we seeing this, again?” asked GG Crono.
Ivonne quickly returned to her “I’m smarter than you” grin, the same one that made everyone in the room want to brain her with a sledgehammer EVERY TIME she did it. “Well, while you were busy crying about not being able to watch RPGCity, I decided to look over the RPGCity network. Turns out someone installed a bunch of cameras across the whole region years ago. I simply had to hack into the security network, bypass a few lockouts, and hook us into the live feed.”
The entire Task Force simply looked at each other. “When…did you get good with computers?” asked Mabat.
“Com…pu…ters? Oh, you mean the Magic Boxes!” The traditional face fault followed. “Yeah, we found all KINDS dumped in the forest years ago! This one’s a little stranger, but I could figure it out!”
“But that’s not the problem!” shouted GG Crono. “Why is she waving a sign in front of the camera?”
Pierson quickly went back into leader mode. “It’s obviously a trap…but at the same time, if she IS with the Illuminati, we might be able to shake some information out of her…” He turned to Ivonne. “Where is she, exactly?”
Ivonne punched up a large map of RPGCity. A blue dot was flashing on an apartment complex in the slums. “She’s on the roof of that building. I’ve already looked through the surrounding areas, and there’s nobody else there.”
“We’ll teleport into the sewer network, under the building. If we appear in front of her, she might be able to start deciphering our signal.”
A few key commands later, and the waypoint’s runes began to glow. The Task Forcer’s wristbands began to glow in unison, as well. A blinding white light swept across all of Deep 14, until the underground cavern looked like a solar flare. When the whiteness faded into a layer of mist, the Task Force was nowhere to be seen.
Doctor Forrester emerged from behind the elevator. “Just so you know, painting your evil lair like a light bulb is not a good way to stay hidden.”
AT THAT SAME INSTANT, IN THE SEWERS…
The landing turned out to be far less impressive than the take-off. The Task Force simply warped backed into existence. No blinding lights, no summoning sickness, no fanfare whatsoever. Besides a little dizziness, the entire experience was a fast, surprisingly pleasant trip. Until they fell into two feet of raw sewage. That part was decidedly less enjoyable.
(One HEROIC hosedown and a lot of boring climbing later…)
The last of the Task Forcers finally pulled themselves up from the fire escape, breathing heavily with every step they took. Pierson, in particular, was heavily covered in garbage, blood, and various unmentionable substances; his heavy panting only increased the threat of some of it going into his mouth. “Alright, we made it. Now let us never speak of it again.”
Sure enough, the Japanese girl was still there, sitting on the edge of the roof. Her sign was now leaning against the nearby doorway, along with a lavishly decorated purple school backpack. The girl turned around at their presence, revealing her to be a teenager, about sixteen years at the most. Her black hair was hanging loosely at around waist level. Her clothes, however, distracted from the attempted insanely creepy fanservice; they consisted of a garishly ugly hoodie with Kimberly Adjective’s face slapped all over, as well as a pair of skin-tight jeans adorned with various stickers and patches declaring her love for the latest disposable pop culture obsession.
And then there was her eyes. They were a fiery blood red, quite possibly the most unnatural color the team had seen so far.
Everyone simply stared at each other for a few moments, trying to rationalize exactly what they were seeing. Then the girl ran forward, squealing like either a mortally wounded guinea pig or a small baby being shoved through a de-boning machine. She finally stopped just short of trampling Pierson, eyes half-closed in the most adorable way possible. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god! You’re, like, the RPGC TASK FORCE!”
The heroes took a collective step back. Even demigod was starting to feel very uneasy about her…eagerness. “Y…Yes, we are,” said Pierson. He quickly wiped the goop out of his head; the strange liquid slammed to the ground, congealed into a small blob-like thing, and slithered away. “Now, how can we help you?”
The girl reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a small card. It was a pretty simple thing, pure white-on-white background with black lettering. It read:
Noriko Yamaguchi
Kimberly Adjective Fan Club President
Chapter 29
Mabatsekker suddenly broke into a cold sweat, muttering and cursing under his breath. GG Crono and demigod simply hugged each other for comfort. “It…It’s a fangirl!”
Noriko simply ignored their pure, unadulterated horror. “Well, it’s, like, awesome to meet real super heroes like you guys!” She reached into the backpack and pulled out a bunch of crumpled pieces of paper. “Anyway, the other girls were, like, digging through Kimberly’s garbage a few days ago, and-”
“You…dig through her GARBAGE?!” shouted GG Crono.
Noriko shook her head sadly in response. “Oh, of course I don’t. The others do it!” Back to diabetes-inducing cheerfulness. “Like I was saying, they were digging through the trash, and we found these things!”
Pierson opened one of the balled-up documents. It was a letter, describing all sorts of disgusting, disturbing, outright illegal actions the writer intended to perform upon Kimberly’s private areas. The others, in turn, went from vomit-inducing to outright homicidal. “So, some pedophiliac stalker has an obsession with Miss Adjective, and may have set that bomb off to kill her?”
“Well…yeah.”
“And…how can we help?”
She reached back into the backpack, and pulled out four security badges. “The guys in the van were apparently part of the security. Just put these on, and you can keep an eye on her!”
The Task Force looked at each other, silently agreeing to their shared disdain for what this job would entail. Unfortunately, that little thing called “obligation” quickly drove out those sentiments; like it or not, they couldn’t let anyone get killed because of personal disdain for their genre of entertainment. Besides, Noriko seemed to be on the up-and-up; if she was an Illuminatus, she had to be the dumbest person working for the conspiracy.
ONE HOUR LATER, AT THE RPGCITY AUDITORIUM…
Pierson, Mabatsekker and GG Crono walked through the backstage doorways, clad in neon yellow jackets and jeans. The blue mage and amnesiac also had a few pieces of fuzz attached, as well as some fake contacts, to help with the disguise. Demigod took the pass, but because of certain…physical differences, he was relegated to keeping a stealthy watch from the outside. Fortunately, the rampaging hordes of preteens, coupled with their Prozac-laden parents, were too busy trying to work their way into the building itself that they paid no heed to the “thing that should not be” hanging out on the roof.
Kimberly herself was still in her dressing room, preening over the latest changes in the night’s performance. Outside the dressing room door was a small army of goons, all very musculed-up and ready for anything the raging perverts could throw at them. Meanwhile, a vast array of security cameras kept watch over everything on the floor, as well as provided excellent material for the latest rounds of highly illegal Internet porn.
Pierson quickly made himself useful, climbing up a side ladder to the rafters above the stage. After a few minutes of searching, he finally found the sweet spot; a small shadowy corner, where he could easily make out the events going on onstage and in the audience without being spotted. After a quick jaunt to remember the exact placement, he scrambled back down, all without alerting the real security guards or the waiting audience.
Mabatsekker and GG Crono, meanwhile, started patrols around the various backstage areas of the auditorium. The blue mage quickly made note of the numerous storage closets, the manager’s office, and the green room, while the guy that doesn’t really do anything jotted down all of the possible entry points. Having finished their homework, the team quickly met back up…just as Kimberly was exiting her dressing room, talking on a cell phone.
“-don’t care what…Dad, this is…! Look, it was just an editing trick, we do it all the time here! Da…Da…Listen, I’m hanging up now! I- I’M HANGING UP NOW! WE’LL TALK LATER!” She slammed the “End Call” button down so hard the phone’s keypad started to crack. “Idiot.”
Her tantrum was brought to a close when a scrawny stage manager came running in, holding a stuffed clipboard. “Come on, folks! Five minutes to show time!”
The small hallway was suddenly filled with a tidal wave of band members, security details, technicians, janitors, stalkers, and roadies. Pierson quickly melted into the crowd, riding it to just the right spot to climb onto his hidey-hole. Mabatsekker took up a patrol around the halls, while GG Crono stepped outside to start his own search for their vaguely-defined targets.
MEANWHILE, ON THE STAGE…
The stage lights gradually dimmed out of existence, only to be followed by a long stream of purple mist and the rumbling of fog machines. Beneath the cover of darkness, Kimberly slinked her way into a large metal cage, which was then raised into position via a cable and pulleys. The other band members, meanwhile, took up their respective positions, their forms shrouded in a valley of hopefully non-toxic smoke.
The stage lights kicks back on, revealing the entire ensemble. The cage slowly lowered to the ground, all the while surrounded by the high beams and rolling fog. The cranking of the machines was muffled out by the ever-increasing roars of the crowds. The music climbed in volume, until it was practically an invisible avalanche of agonizing noise. Fortunately, Pierson had remembered to bring earplugs. Didn’t do a damn thing about the vibrations, though.
And then she started singing.
MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE THE AUDITORIUM…
“This is pointless.”
GG Crono continud to wander in circles around the building, checking every nook and cranny for the supposed stalkers. So far, all he found was a stray cat, a few birds, some small kids, Jimmy Hoffa’s body, an altar to Slaanesh, and the entire Denver Broncos 1996 lineup. All of which was pretty much standard for this neck of RPGCity, in any case.
It was during his third pass that he finally saw something scuffling in the bushes. Finally seizing the chance for action, GG slowly crept up to the brush, slowly drawing his sword as he did so. When he was but a few feet from the bush, he leaped forward, sword raised, foot extended. His heel came into contact with the onlooker’s face, sending him tumbling to the ground. Before he could even start to recover, Crono had already kicked him onto his back, grabbed him by the head, sat himself on his chest, and had lowered his blade to neck level. “Hello.”
The man was about forty or so, with a receding hairline, a few scruffs for a beard, a red flannel shirt, and outdoorsman pants. On hand was a camera, as well as several unspeakably disgusting photos of himself and…let’s just stop the description there, shall we? Needless to say, Mr. Peeping Tom was wetting himself with fear. Fortunately for GG Crono, said actions were more metaphorical than anything else. “Wh…What do you want?”
“Are you the one that set that bomb?”
The man simply clenched his teeth, making the best villain face he could in his position. “Yes, YES! That little skank was ignoring me, denying my true love! I had to have her, like I had all those others! So I blew up that van! I killed those kids, so she could see how much I loved her! And thanks to you, she will never know!”
GG Crono’s eyes simply widened. He started to look to and fro, as the man continued to ramble. “Do my words scare you, superhero? Yes, I’ve…”
“Shut. Up.”
The pedophile was about to continue…until GG Crono grabbed the photos. “These are photoshops. Not very good ones, either.” Cue renewed sweating from said captive. “What’s REALLY going on here?”
“I just TOLD YOU! I’m here to claim the object of my obsession!”
“Nobody walks around with a pretty little speech in their head, especially if they don’t intend to get caught.” Crono leaned in close, until he could feel the man’s terrified breath. “Now, tell me everything.”
His one chance at badassery quickly ended. The supposed pervert suddenly started convulsing wildly, his eyes dilating, his mouth quickly starting to froth over. GG started to radio for help, but it was already too late; within the space of five seconds, the man was dead. It was far too quick for a cyanide pill, and there was nothing he could have jabbed himself with…
MEANWHILE, ABOVE THE STAGE…
Pierson continued to listen to the music beneath him, to exactly what Kimberly Adjective was saying. Sure enough, the lyrics were absolute garbage, often amounting to little more than the traditional drizzle drummed out of the pop music machine every few minutes. It wasn’t her voice, either. She was no Wilfredo Martinez, to be sure, but her vocal ability was still lacking in at least five or six key areas. The performance wasn’t too terrible, with plenty of flashing lights and sound effects for those with two-second attention spans.
No, the real alarming thing was something behind her voice. It was a small murmur, to be sure, but there was some kind of power behind every word that left her lips. It felt like…magic.
“Look, it was just an editing trick, we do it all the time here!”
Pierson thought back to something Weiila had mentioned, about how a girl Kimberly was singing to was suddenly healed. Given that news crews and paparazzi were no doubt following the scene, it was possible some kind of magical use would have been filmed. But then, if it was white magic, Weiila would have picked up on it almost immediately. If anything, mages these days were far less subtle.
Finally realizing he had been ignoring his actual objective the whole time, Pierson quickly returned to his previous watch. Answers could wait until after the concert.
AFTER THE CONCERT…
The last of the lights dimmed on stage, replaced by the return of the more traditional lighting above. The fans cheered and roared outside, anxious to get an autograph or at least five seconds with their idol. Their captive parents, eager to see all this madness come to an end, quickly scurried off after them. The roadies quickly dismantled and packed away all the show equipment, while the other band members made their way backstage.
Meanwhile, the Task Force reassembled in the auditorium, once again dressed in their standard costumes. Even demigod was there, glad to finally be off that roof and back in the action. “So wait, you mean this whole thing was a set-up?” asked Mabat.
GG Crono nodded. “That’s what it looks like. We need to get out of here, before-”
“It’s not us they want.” Everyone turned to an anxious Pierson. “Their real target is Kimberly Adjective.”
There was a moment of silence, followed by a few muffled giggles. “Come on, Pierce!” said Crono. “What would they want with a vapid little pop star?!”
“She’s a mage.” The joyous rapture of laughing quickly died down. “I don’t know what kind, exactly, but I can feel some kind of power behind her words. Whatever her style is, it seems to be activated by singing.”
Their little conversation stopped cold when Kimberly reentered the auditorium, surrounded by a posse of neon-clad security guards. The procession stopped when they got close to the Task Force, the entire small gathering looking absolutely dumbfounded at the ridiculous sight before them. Finally, one of the guards broke the silence. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but this is not a costume party. Please leave.”
The heroes looked at each other, trying to figure out the perfect thing to respond to that. Finally, Pierson stepped forward. “My name is Pierson. I’m with the-”
Realization finally slapped Kimberly across the face like a cold fish. “Ohhhh, you’re those local superheroes. RPGC Task Force, was it?”
“Um…yes.”
“That’s so awesome! Real superheroes actually going to one of my concerts! Oh man, I’ve gotta tell everyone about this one!”
“That…will not be necessary,” said another guard. “Come on, Ms. Adjective. Our ride is waiting outside.” The guard grabbed Kimberly by the shoulders, an act that brought severe discomfort and confusion to her face, and started to lead her off towards the stage. “The van is waiting outside.”
“I…thought she came in on a bus,” said GG Crono.
“And wouldn’t she still have stuff to clean up back here?” asked Mabat.
“And did you not already disable all of the vehicles earlier?” asked demigod. The Task Force gave him a confused look. “…You left me on a freezing roof for six hours. I noticed things.”
The guards suddenly hurried their pace. “Ms. Adjective!” shouted Pierson. “Are these your normal guys, or were they hired for this show?”
His response was immediate. Kimberly finally managed to wiggle out of the guard’s grip, push her way through the ones in the back, and get enough distance to safely turn around and reach for her pockets. One of the guards came sauntering back up to her…only to be greeted by a can of mace. The stinging liquid sent the imposter falling backwards…right into Mabatsekker’s knee. The other guards, seeing their act was up, quickly threw off their jackets, revealing heavy armor padding and various knives, cattle prods, and firearms.
The heroes formed a line in front of Kimberly. The fake guards marched forward in a typical stormtrooper fashion…only to suddenly fall over, convulsing and foaming at the mouths. Sure enough, they died the exact same way as the guy outside. At the same time, several dozen more figures, this time dressed in full commando uniforms and armed with assault rifles, crashed into the auditorium, weapons locked on the Task Force. At the same time, the front doors opened, revealing even more soldiers…and Noriko, now dressed in the same kind of uniform they saw on Damascus. The only different was a small Japanese flag pin on her lapel. In her hands was a small remote.
“Well, this has been entertaining. Gentlemen, I thank you for your effort, but I think it’s time we all took a little trip.”
Kimberly started walking backwards, running right into the Task Force. “Wait…you were part of that fan club!”
“Please, don’t remind me of that. That rabble of screaming, manically obsessed brats almost drove me to abandon the whole operation. Kids these days…”
GG Crono was ready to say something like, “So says the brattiest of them all,” but decided that it was not only lame, but that he shouldn’t insult the woman leading a small army. Pierson, instead, continued the conversation. “What do you want with Kimberly?”
“You felt it, didn’t you?” laughed Noriko. “I knew you would. That strange feeling whenever she sings, like some kind of power is running through the background, and you can’t tell exactly what it is. She’s a bard.”
An uneasy silence quickly followed. Kimberly slowly sat in one of the chairs, eyes downcast. “It’s true,” she muttered. “I am a witch. Dad made me promise never to use my magic for anything. But…whenever I sing, I just can’t help it.”
“A bard can do just about anything,” continued Noriko. “They don’t have the same genetic limitations of other mages, and then some. A bard’s power is all about feeling; as long as they can focus on the right emotions, they can do anything.”
“And that’s why you did all this?” shouted Mabatsekker. “Why you blew up that van? Why you killed your own minions?!”
“Well, there was YOU, of course,” said Noriko. “Damascus wanted me to make sure you guys were brought back in. Can’t have you guys running around, blabbing our secret.” The soldiers raised and readied their rifles. “Now let’s finish this.” The heroes looked for some way to escape, but found none.
Kimberly’s face seethed with rage, at both herself and her traitorous “fan.” Was what she saying true? Could she have been…influencing everyone without realizing it? And if that was the case, did she even deserve this?
“You have three seconds to surrender, Task Force. One…”
Kimberly knew what she had to try.
“Two…”
The pop singer/bard stood up and inhaled a great amount of oxygen.
“Thr-”
“Hold it!” shouted Kim. Or, to be more exact, sang Kim. Sure enough, EVERYONE simply stooped. Their faces went blank, their eyes almost rolling into their sockets. Only demigod remained unaffected; fortunately, he realized what was going on very quickly, and decided to see how things played out first.
Kimberly continued to speak in song, not even bothering to rhyme or anything like that. What she was saying came from the heart; that is, a heart that had so far today been involved in a bombing, was nearly kidnapped, and now seemed to have all her accomplishments torn to shreds in front of her. “You soldiers will leave at once! You will never come for me again! And you, fangirl, will NEVER look for me. You will leave me in peace!”
Noriko very, very slowly reached for her radio. “Men. Head. For. The. Extraction. Point. Report. To. Station. 17. For. Debriefing.” With that, every single (living) Illuminati in the room simply walked out. After a few seconds of silence, the Task Force quickly dropped out of their trance, completely flabbergasted as to what the hell just happened. Kimberly, however, realized what this all meant.
The Japanese girl was right. She was a fraud.
A FEW HOURS LATER…
The Task Force was back in Deep 14, heads hung sadly. Doctor Forrester was seated with them, reading up on how to blow up New Jersey and make a profit doing so. Ivonne, meanwhile, was still at her post, chowing down on pretzels. “So…what happened after the Illuminati left?”
“Kimberly just…went back on the bus and left,” said Pierson. “She wouldn’t even let us talk to her.”
“I don’t know how she’s gonna last after this,” said GG Crono. “I mean, she just had her hopes and dreams smashed in front of her. God knows what’ll happen now.”
“Oh, come on!” said Doctor Forrester. “Is that what this is all about?” The Task Force stared menacingly at the mad scientist/landlord. “Look, when I was in high school, I got kicked around by just about everyone in there. Then I came up with a giant death robot, built it in my mom’s garage, and started to rampage through the town. Do you know what happened?”
“You got arrested, your robot was destroyed, and you became the shell of a man before us today?” said Pierson.
“Well…of course. But the point is, my rampaging robot was destroyed, school got worse, and I spent five weeks locked in the cellar, forced to hunt rats for subsidence. But you know what? After a while, I got over it, picked myself up, and got a low-paying intern job at Gizmonic Institute. And here we are today.”
“You mean, after your world domination plans went up in smoke and you were forced to start a pie shop in another universe?”
“…Shut up.”
MEANWHILE, IN GENERAL DAMASCUS’ OFFICE…
Damascus sat at his desk, fingers drumming on his armrests. Noriko sat at the other end, cigarette in hand. “So…the operation failed.”
“Miserably.” She took a large puff. “I didn’t expect her gift to be quite that powerful. Right now, I would recommend we shift focus away from her and back to the Task Force.”
“There will be other opportunities,” continued Damascus. “But for now, you should return home. We will call you when we need you next.” Noriko nodded slightly, stood back up, grabbed her smokes, and walked out of the office. Damascus simply watched her leave, already planning out their next move.
THE END OF ISSUE 30
Well, what do you know? We’ve got five months worth of updates! And, give or take a few days, we actually stuck to a schedule! Hurray!
Anyway, since we’re this far in, it’s time to give some lowdown on all these chapters. What got cut, what got added in, how the planned arc got shifted around, and all that. Also, we’ll be going over the next few months worth of issues, so stay tuned! Or…just scroll to the bottom. Or…just close the browser. Any one of those is fine.
Issue 26 Commentary
Man, this one changed a lot. I mean, a lot.
Many of the characters and events were planned out months in advance, especially Damascus, the new Big Bad. I even planned out his origin story, with every intention of cramming it into his plot dump. Problem was, it didn’t work out. Besides the fact that every character in this crapfest is flatter than day-old pizza, there was just no way to make the whole spiel sound natural. That’s also the moment I decided on the B-Story concept.
Mindscape was another matter altogether. Originally, the Task Force would have met one of the upcomic villains, Geneva. Again, I ran into an issue: I hadn’t finished developing Geneva’s character yet. I have a better handle on her now, but she won’t be showing up until after the next arc. As for Mindscape, I’m honestly not sure what I’ll do with him. There was already another psychic villain planned, and I don’t want to stick with two. Besides, the other one seems like a more interesting person.
The World League of Heroes was the first hint at the greater world outside of RPGCity. THIS is what I’m excited about. The Sagas have generally been set in crossover mode, running from one licensed property to the next. Meanwhile, RPGCity simply showed up as a small hub of sorts, while the rest of the world was simply our Earth. The Naar Saga introduced the idea of “The Internet,” which meant that it was actually sent in the Internet as we know it. Of course, that was retarded (not to mention overdone), so instead, the concept went to a world where all creation more or less criss-crosses at some point. (Just…read the Guide to the Galloway RPGCVerse thread for more info. It’s confusing.)
And no, we will not be seeing anyone mentioned in that poster. They’re all dead. All of them. Except Mindscape. Maybe.
The ending was changed up a little. Originally, the Illuminati blew up the headquarters with a chemical weapon, causing a plague to sweep through RPGCity and framing the Task Force. This would have turned the public against them, forcing everyone underground. However, this was back when Galloway was going to be kicked out for kidnapping Weiila. When that escalated to a major geological disaster, there was no more need for that much carnage; the team’s reputation is already in the toilet.
(So far, there’s only going to be three major arcs, each one featuring a different headquarters. So…don’t get too attached to Deep 14.)
Issue 27 Commentary
I hate this issue. I really do. It was easily one of the worst in a long time. So, let’s not talk about it.
Okay, it’s just a massive shout out to/crossover with Mystery Science Theater 3000. There, we’re done.
The B-Story was originally planned for Issue 26; however, I felt setting up the Illuminati arc took precedent, and thus bumped it down. For a first attempt at the concept, I think it turned out all right. It was also fun to use Zachary again. I just love the little guy, even if he doesn’t really work for a lot of stories.
The real reason was to set up Allison, or if you’re perceptive enough to remember one line in the middle of the Final Saga, Yellow Tiger. Originally, she had absolutely no character. Nothing. After using her a few times, I thoguht she really needed a backstory. Problem was, I couldn’t figure out exactly what I wanted. When the name “Allison” came up, I was simply desperate for a real name. By the time I finally figured it all out, though, not only had I forgotten what I did, but the Final Saga was closing down plots. There was no time for another ridiculously convoluted storyline, so she got booted over to this series.
And by the way, the ending originally made more sense. The problem was, it gave away too much information about who the librarian was, and why Allison wanted him dead. Also, the beating of the bully was shown, but I was running short of time, so it got cut. As for Zach and kiro…just keep watching.
Issue 28 Commentary:
“Into the Woods” was originally one story. However, about halfway through, I realized it was just too damn long, and split it up.
Ivonne’s character changed as I was writing the story. Originally, she was just a sweet half-elf, caught up between two cultures. Furthermore, she was going to question her loyalty to her new father and friends, and her mother. Problem was, as I was writing, she became more and more of a jerkass. And I loved it. I just took what the elves would no doubt drill into her skull growing up, and showed it for the whole mass of lies it truly was.
If there was any real-world message there, it was purely accidental. It just seemed like how someone raised by an isolationist culture would behave in the real world: like a culture posturing idiot. GG Crono’s breakdown of her little dreamworld was also fun to write.
And remember the new Task Force-Mobile. It will come in later.
The B-Story was a blast, plain and simple. However, it mutated almost completely from its original form. Initially, Martinez was getting his “Superhero Wizard Starter Kit” from the Society of Wizards, thinking it would give him all sorts of hints and tidbits for improving his crimefighting. However, the real purpose for the kit was to force magic users to disguise their abilities as simple illusions and parlor tricks.
This would have explained two plot points. First was the story at the beginning, where Baron von Bad Guy defeated The Great Madlov. Madlov was, in fact, a real wizard; however, because of the Society’s rules, he was forced to act like a fraud in order to keep their Masquerade going. Hence, the Baron has no respect for magic users, thinking they are all fakes.
Second was that it would have emphasized how important Martinez’s actions at the end were. He just explained how magic works to a non-magic user. Furthermore, he actually knows more than many of the Society’s members, meaning he’s let out more than a few hundred sheltered secrets. In other words, he just single-handedly destroyed a conspiracy hundreds of years old.
The last thing cut was something I want to include later: Baron von Bad Guy’s daughter. Von Bad Guy is actually a divorced dad, and has a daughter. (About five years old during Issue 28’s B-Story.) As a result, she doesn’t really understand what’s going on, but it was also the Baron’s weekend with her, so he takes her along on the scheme. During the fight, she would have been cheering her father on, telling him to beat down the nasty mage with his funny robot. Needless to say, it just didn’t really fit in. IT WILL BE BACK, THOUGH.
Issue 29 Commentary:
This issue was important for a few reasons.
First, it has the one thing I’ve written that actually made me cringe: Ivonne’s treatment by the guard. Granted, it came off as Narmy, but when I wrote it, I actually felt more than a little uncomfortable. The initial idea was for the elves to simply point their guns at Ivonne, but that didn’t pack enough punch. So I had the guy beat her to a pulp for daring to touch him. Yes, that seemed appropriate enough.
All of this was done for one purpose: destroying the common fantasy of “superior elves living in a forest.” (Granted, it’s been done before, but I wanted a go at it, too.) The elves were already identified as planet-rapers, before getting their asses kicked by Grok and Mok. Then they were stranded on the same planet they subjugated, and fled into the forest simply to survive. From there, they were forced to become more and more isolated, until they were only able to survive by scavenging garbage. They once had lasers and flying cars; now they can’t figure out how to maintain a gun, or what a computer actually is. Think any civilization long after its glory days, and you have the elves.
The High Priestess also evolved. When she first appeared (all the way back in Issue 20), she was a motherly, saintly figure. Now, a hundred years later, she’s a bitter figure with her own agenda. (That is a topic for another day, though.) Ivonne, her daughter, was used simply to gather information on metahumans for a future invasion. As it turns out, though, the elves are nowhere near ready for actual combat, so her plans are shut down rather quickly.
The ending was…rather hard to settle on. Ivonne being banished from the elves was always planned, but I never settled on how to finish up Martinez’s involvement. Hence his sudden change into an asshole. He has his reasons, to be sure, but they’ll be covered later.
Oh, and the fight scene was awesomely fun.
Issue 30 commentary:
This one sucked. Hard.
I wanted to do a Hanna Montanna parody for years now. I even had the thing scripted out for a long time. However, when it came to actually writing it, I just couldn’t settle on a tone. Should it be funny? Sad? Action-packed? Dramatic? Besides that, I can’t write lyrics worth crap, hence the lack of actual singing.
The other band members were originally major character. Then they got cut for time. Sorry.
Noriko is going to be a major villain. I’ll apologize in advance; I screwed up her introduction badly.
It’s seriously hard to remark on this one, since I just wrote it. However, it’s just not very good.
Coming Issues:
Issue 31
Story A: A ritual is planned to bring back the First Matriarch. The only problem is, the thing requires a sacrifice…and the Matriarch wants Gemini! Can the Task Force rescue him/her before it’s too late?
Story B: Pierson’s Origin Story.
Issue 32
Story A: After the events of last issue, the First Matriarch, Ione, has returned…but not in perfect shape. Can the heroes get to the bottom of this, or is Gemini doomed?
Story B: It’s time for Nelimar to get her Apprentice license. However, such an event is an excuse for mages to get drunk, so the Society of Wizards is throwing a job fair! What will Nel find? And how does the Task Force factor in?
Issue 33
Story A: Martinez is running into financial trouble. Fortunately, he has ancient gold lying around; unfortunately, said gold is buried. Even worse, the Eye, the Illuminati, and PC Glenton want their hands on it, too!
Story B: Back in the 1960s, the Illuminati moved into Japan. One of their targets was Yamaguichi Industries, a burgeoning company. What is their real purpose? And how is Noriko tied to an event from long before her birth?
Issue 34
Story A: The Task Force decide to infiltrate the Illuminati. The problem is, they will all be ratted out very quickly. So, they send in the one person capable of pulling it off: Galloway! Three guesses how that turns out…
Story B: A tale from the Golden Age. Before World War II, a small group of heroes united to stop a global threat. Who were they, and what became of them?
Issue 35
Story A: An accident sends both the Task Force and the RPGCPD into a parallel dimension, run entirely by hard-boiled detectives! Can they escape this horrible place, or will they need the help of a certain slob of a figure?
Story B: Pierson discovers a criminal ring, but the rest of the Task Force is preoccupied. This leaves only him, Ivonne, Dr. Forrester and TV’s Frank to save the day!
Well, see ya later, true believers!
More and more issues! It’s a good thing to notice writing these isn’t an… issue for you punblasted
“Mabat, you never were a trained mage. You just call yourself a Blue Mage. What are you doing here, being so stinking drunk it’d make Bruce Lee in Drunken Master look like a Milk Bar Melee’er?”
“Ahm sorry, but they shee my miraculoush draunking abilitish ash masghic of itsch ownz… ssssso they gave me and honowary mascheg diploma… See? I’ve gots a liscense. You got an officer with that, problem?”
“Projectile vomiting isn’t considered an officially sanctioned spell, but it’s a pretty common sight in schools for magically inclined children. C’mon, let’s leave the Master of Malt Magic to his brew…”
“NO WHISKEY! IT MAKES MY GADOUKENS TINY! AND YOU HAVEN’T SEEN A TINY GADOUKEN BEFORE THAT!”
The next issue is delayed until November 30.
The fact is, the stuff I have written down now is…well…trash. Granted, everything I’ve ever said or done is garbage on some level, but this is worse. Characters are derailed in unbelievable ways, all so I can set up some lame gags. The actual conflict needs to be built much tighter. I’ve been stuck at four pages in for over two weeks, and feel my drive to finish the thing draining.
I’m taking the monthly thing very seriously. I want this to be a test of sorts, to see if I can release a new chapter every month. Sad to say, I’ve failed already. To make matters worse, my other projects are falling by the wayside; the Final Saga’s latest chapter is barely started, the rest of Absolution’s third sector is still being researched, and the Sonic Retrospective is halted around issue #90. I need to give those some love, too, if only to escape this Cliche Storm. (TV Tropes to ruin my life once again.)
So…see you later.
Yeah, your stuff is SO bad we can’t wait to see it, Mr. Negative. Heck, even reading your projected plans is fun!
You do realize you’re writing fanfiction, right? And that most Fic writers don’t worry half as much as you do? (granted they’re nowhere near as good either.) Remember the Cardinal Rule of Fan Writing, d: PLEASE YOURSELF FIRST! It’s OK to write for others if that is what you want but since the satisfaction of writing is the only pay get for doing it, you’d damn better enjoy it too! Oh, and write at your pace. That’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way; trying to fit a schedule just stressed me to the point I could not finish my stories. From now on, I’m writing only when (and so long as) I feel the impulse to do so. (Btw, I DO have plans for more stories, but as noted, I don’t know when they will come. Hopefully soon.)
d… the only trash I have seen in your stories is when some troll starts speaking insults in lamer speak, if that ever happened.
Just write when you can, and you will have our adoration and praise. And, if people want to leave gifts, I can act as the middleman.
blows off the dust Wow, it’s been this long? Sorry about that.
The update is officially…almost done. Okay, I’m stuck on the last few pages and have no idea how to end it without getting my ass handed to me. But I will get it done, it WILL be up by next Friday, and after that, we’re back to monthly updates! I promise!
Now to start working on that Final…Saga thingy.
Alright, this is what I have so far. THE REST OF THE ISSUE WILL BE UP LATER.
Sorry it’s taking so fucking long. This whole chapter is a pain in the ass. This doesn’t bode well for the rest of the arc, either…
Issue 31: The First Matriarch (Part 1)
In the years following the war, the people’s suffering grew more and more. The plague had not only reduced the male population by a devastating margin, it had also completely altered the planet’s social order. Nearly all of the society relied on magic users and related powers to accomplish day-to-day tasks, and while these factors did not simply vanish overnight, the sheer lose of manpower laid a significant blow to the world’s entire infrastructure.
And so it came to be that Ione, first daughter of Orea and Irae, rose from these ashes. Having already been studying magic illegally, she began to teach the other women in secret. When the Patriarchy discovered this, she was swiftly arrested, convicted of treason, and sentenced to death. Her students, however, quickly proved their worth, breaking Ione out of the dungeons and preparing a proper rebellion. Under Ione’s guidance, the women of the world overthrew the remaining men, establishing new and prosperous world order.
Ione ruled for the next fifty years, and under her guidance, the planet entered a glorious golden age. So important were her efforts that, when she finally passed on, the entire world was renamed “Iona” in her honor. And that, as they say, is that.
-“The History of Iona, Book I” Cliff Notes Version
THE PRESENT, ON IONA, IN THE ROYAL DINING HALL…
“BRING THE FIRST MATRIARCH BACK?!”
Deralin doubled over and spat out her wine at the news. The purple liquid splashed on the centuries-old tablecloth, leading to the destruction of yet another priceless artifact. At the other end of the table, the Matriarch simply shook her head sadly. “Deralin, straighten yourself at once.”
The princess continued to stare dumbfounded for several more seconds. Finally, the synapses in her brain kicked into high gear, and she pushed her back into the chair, patting out the small bits of dribble from her mouth in the process. “S…Sorry, Matriarch. But…the First Matriarch has been dead for a thousand years! How can any…”
“My position bears with it certain privileged information.” The Matriarch reached under the chair and pulled out an ancient scroll, practically crumbling to dust as she touched it. The servants quickly followed the unspoken cue and removed any food, drink, and other substances that may damage the irreplaceable document. The item itself was still closed, a large wax seal keeping it bound in place. With absolute care, the Matriarch popped the seal off and unfurled the document. On it was inscribed ancient spells and incantations, all aimed at forming a multi-stage summoning ritual. “We have little time to prepare. The council members will assist me in preparing the summoning circle. You, on the other hand, will find us an appropriate host.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem so- HOST?!”
“We can only summon her spirit to this world. We will have to remove the host’s own soul first, and then transfer the First Matriarch into her body. Her form should then twist into the form of our ancestor, giving us a few precious hours before the body disintegrates completely.”
“You mean this is a human sacrifice?” Deralin’s fist slammed into the table so hard it created a small dent in the dining room floor. “You want me to find someone to DIE?!”
The Matriarch stood motionless for several moments. Deralin, meanwhile, slinked back into her chair, looking rather ashamed of herself. “Deralin, I will remind you to mind your matters in this palace. You are the Matriarch’s daughter. Act like one.” The daughter simply nodded in acknowledgment. “In any case, there is no way around it. During the last summoning, the First Matriarch mentioned the possible downfall of our entire civilization. This may be our last time to ask her advice before the cataclysm.” Deralin sank even further. “Now, return home. I am sure your girlfriend is waiting for you.”
“Yes…my ‘girl’friend.” Fortunately, the Matriarch wasn’t listening for any sarcasm or subtle hinting; she was already on her way out of the dining hall. Deralin quickly shoved a few bread pieces in her pocket and made for the door.
AN HOUR LATER, AT DERALIN’S HOME…
Deralin sat in her dark study, the only light coming from a few old candles. Before her were a mountain of tomes, filled with long-forbidden arcane knowledge. She didn’t even notice Gemini sneak back in, holding her own small spellbook. “Hey, Lin. What do you think-?” The one actual girl in the room slumped forward. “…Did you have a bad day?”
“Very,” muttered Deralin. “Mother wants me to find someone willing to sacrifice themselves to the First Matriarch. AND she’s starting to ask too much about us. AND my lizard needs to be rescaled.”
Gemini…didn’t want to think about that last one. “Wait…what was that about a First Matriarch?”
Deralin turned around in her chair, her eyes finally locking with Gemini’s. “Oh right, you’re not from this world. The First Matriarch was the one that overthrew the old government a thousand years ago, after the dark god Naar invaded. They say she slew Naar in combat, and then marched on the royal palace, defeated the king, and drove the men out of power once and for all! Of course, that’s the abridged version, but-”
“She didn’t defeat Naar,” said Gemini. “My brother did. I was there.”
The real girl’s expression deflated into a mixture of bewilderment and frustration. “Gemini, I love you and everything, but you expect me to believe a guy like that could possibly destroy the greatest evil the universe has ever seen?” Gemini opened his mouth, but was stopped by a raised hand. “No, no, don’t answer that. Right now, I need to find a host body.”
It was plainly obvious Deralin was thinking big thoughts, possibly planning her next move, and thus was not in a talkative mood. Gemini sighed to herself and started to walk out, her thoughts returning to the tome. Just as she got to the door, however, she stopped and spun around. “By the way, do you know anything about this…”
AT THAT SAME TIME, IN DEEP 14…
Ivonne and GG Crono continued to type away at the console. Demigod and Martinez sat behind them, making sure they were hitting the right buttons. Finally, the monitors started to flicker back to life, revealing a sea of sharp, hissing static. GG Crono pulled away from the keyboard, while Ivonne continued her work. “So…you guys planted a bug the last time you were in Iona?”
“Galloway insisted,” said demigod. “It was his way of keeping an eye on his brother’s whereabouts. It should still be active.”
“Then…why isn’t it working?”
“There was an ion storm a few weeks ago,” said Martinez. “Those things flat-out destroy trans-dimensional equipment; the bug ‘s signal was probably lost.”
The screen suddenly started to fade into focus. It was a hazy picture of a dark and dusty study, most likely in Deralin’s home. A woman was sitting at a desk, speaking to someone out of view of the camera. “Wait, this is a video feed?”
“Gemini agreed to wear it, in exchange for letting him stay,” said demigod. “It seemed more reliable than pure audio, in any case.” The video continued to hiss and crackle. “We were wrong, as usual.”
Finally, they managed to start picking up something actually useful. “…You volunteer…ritual…sacrifice…First Matriarch…” The video suddenly cut off, replaced by the delightful wall of snow from before. The team simply stood there, scratching their heads in total confusion at what they just…saw. Ivonne simply sighed. “I don’t mean to be rude, but every single piece of your equipment seems to fail at very important moments. We might want to get that looked into.”
THIRTY MINUTES LATER…
The entire Task Force and Reserves gathered in the cavernous underground lair, ready for yet another (almost certainly) pointless meeting. Pierson took up his usual seat at the head of the meeting table, complete with cheap fold-out card table chair. The others, meanwhile, managed to import fine leather office chairs from far-off lands, complete with cushions deep enough to sink into. He wasn’t sure HOW they managed to get a hold of those things, but the flames of jealousy could still prove useful.
Pierson slowly shuffled some papers, tapped the table a few times, and finally managed to bring the meeting to some semblance of order. “Alright folks, we have a problem. According to Martinez, an ion storm’s wiped out the tracking devices on Gemini.”
A few hushed murmurs emerged from the crowd. “A…Are you sure this is serious?” asked Omega. “I mean, from what we’ve heard, he’s in pretty good hands.”
“Is there anything that makes you think he’s in danger?” asked Xero.
“There was mention of a ‘ritual sacrifice’ or something like that,” said GG Crono. “But that’s not what’s really important. Let’s face it, ever since that guy went there, he’s been nearly killed every five minutes. We have a responsibility, people.”
A long, tense, awkward silence followed, finally broken by Mabatsekker’s plainly-spoken interjection. “No we don’t. The guy chose to stay there last time, remember? If he wants to escape, he can just come here.”
“If it were so easy,” said demigod. “From what I have seen of the Ionians, they are very much traditionalists. If Gemini’s true identity is discovered, it will not only lead to his death, but it may bring about massive civil discord.”
“And nothing is more dangerous than a planet of mages with an agenda,” said Weiila. Martinez and Mabatsekker grimaced at her words, but in their deepest hearts, knew it was true.
“That leads to the second problem.” Pierson pointed towards an anxious Weiila and a disinterested Esker. “We’ve pretty much burned out all our goodwill on the last two trips. It’ll be up to you two to go down there and find him.”
EVERYONE in the room just about exploded at that point, especially the two girls. “What the hell?” “We never agreed to this!” “Who do you think you are?” “I’m hungry!” “How are they…”
Everything ground to a halt at the sound of Pierson getting out of his chair, reaching under the table, and quickly pulling out and setting up a tripod and sketchpad. The first sheet simply said “Operation: Gemini Rescue, Plan A.” “Alrighty folks, we have the following problems. First off, Iona is pretty much female-owned and operated.” He ripped off the first page, revealing a duo of incredibly lame stick figures, one with wings and another with a spear. A large crowd of nondescript sticks with half-finished ovals on top surrounded them. “Unfortunately, we’ve always had a very small number of female superheroes in this neck of the woods. That leaves you two.”
Weiila and Esker exchanged knowing glances, although it was more because of the absolutely horrid artwork you should be glad you will never see than anything else. Pierson quickly continued his little presentation, ripping ahead to the next page. It showed the two stick figures standing in front of a castle…or at least, a few rectangular blocks with Lincoln Logs on top. “You two will need to infiltrate whatever dark and/or ominous place he’s being held in…” Rip to reveal the two figures running away, carrying another stick figure. “Grab our target…” Rip to reveal an angry giant circle with triangles for a mouth standing on top of the castle. “And get the hell out of there before whoever’s holding him notices you were ever there.” Rip to the last page, showing a whole row of barely-identifiable heroes sharing Coronas on a sandy beach/small gathering of yellow glitter and globs of Elmer Glue.
Once again, the entire audience was stunned into almost total silence. Martinez finally broke the latest wave of awkwardness. “First off, never do that again. Second, I don’t think sending Weiila and Esker alone is going to solve anything. We’ll need at least one more person…” He cast his eyes back to the console, where Ivonne was still working away. “I have an idea.”
A FEW HOURS LATER…
Weiila, Esker, and Ivonne stood at the control panel, all decked out for a vicious round of superheroism and all that entailed. Martinez sat at the console, furiously punching in a long list of numbers, figures, matrixes, quadratic formulas, the Detroit Lions’ 1989 lineup, and the like. GG Crono, meanwhile, was busy reading over the long series of notes their resident elf had given him. The large machine finally beeped and chimed, signaling something good…everyone hoped, at least. Nobody besides Ivonne had bothered to actually learn how the damn thing works.
“And that’s about it,” said Martinez. He pushed himself up from the chair, pausing briefly to snap his spine back into position, and turned to face the awaiting girls. “According to the maps we picked up last time, you should be teleported just outside of Deralin’s house. From there, assuming those two are still inside, you can just nab Gemini, and call in the incantation.”
“And what if he isn’t?” asked Esker.
“Then you’ll just have to do some leg work. If he’s in one of the academies, most of them can be entered through the city’s sewer system. If he’s in the palace, just use the front door.”
“…The front door?” asked Weiila.
“Iona has a pretty strict ‘open door’ policy with their government. Just make sure you stay on the carpet, don’t make eye contact with the guards, and mind your manners around the Matriarch. We don’t need another half-assed invasion.” He turned to Ivonne. “That goes double for you.” The elf girl simply scoffed at the mage’s words.
WHILE ALL THAT WAS GOING ON…
Gemini and Deralin simply sat at the table, staring at the large, rotund yellow melon in front of them. The former was still reading the spell book, while the later was staring hungrily at the fruit. After several more minutes of absolute boredom, Gemini set the book aside and turned his attention back to the melon. “Okay, so…how does this spell work, exactly?”
Deralin stood up and walked to the far end of the kitchen, spun around, and raised her hands. A distinct magical glow emerged from her hands, followed by a radiating aura around the fruit itself. The spectacle simply continued for several minutes, Deralin panting and sweating with every passing second. Finally, the energy field around the fruit exploded, sending Gemini slamming into a nearby wall and the caster tumbling to her knees in relief. On the table itself, surrounded by a field of smoke, stood two melons, each an exact replica of the other.
The two slowly approached the latest application in cloning. “Wait…what just happened?”
“A cloning spell. With a lot of practice, we can actually create exact copies of anything we want.”
Gemini punched one of the melons, smashing it into a pulpy mess with one blow. Deralin responded in kind…only for the fruit’s skin to simply bend and stretch like rubber. “There are…a few problems, as you can see. It takes decades of studying and drilling to actually make a 1-to-1 copy. And even then, nobody’s been able to clone anything higher than some rocks, a few pies, and the Life and Times of High Master Sio, Volumes I-IX.”
“And you want to try this…on ME?!”
“Well, we only need a body for, what, five minutes? Besides, the entire summoning circle is littered with augmentation spells; otherwise, this whole scheme wouldn’t even get off the ground. If we can time it perfectly, we can not only clone you long enough, we can also split you up, reverse that potion mishap, and teleport you back here. As long as nothing goes wrong, we’ll have you home in no time at all!”
For the first time that whole night, Gemini let out a small smile. “Awesome! Quite frankly, I’m tired of being a girl.” Cue a groan from Deralin. “I mean, sure, the first week or two was an interesting experiment, but after that…And figuring out how to use the bathrooms!” Cue a groan and accompanying facepalm from Deralin. “Not to mention that…other problem.”
Cue the butcher knife to the throat. “One more word, and that won’t be the only bleeding going on.”
(Author note: On the behalf of the human race itself, I apologize for that last scene.)
THE NEXT MORNING, JUST OUTSIDE OF DERALIN’S HOUSE…
Nothing happened.
AT THE SAME MOMENT, IN THE SAME SPOT, ABOUT FIFTEEN FEET OFF THE GROUND…
A small glint of white light emerged admist the heavy overcast above. Its arrival was followed by the lightning crackles and rumbling that traditionally followed a rip in the very fabric of reality. Then came the three Task Forcers, prepped and ready for the mission ahead.
Then came that lovely, nearly-universal force known as “gravity.”
The trio tumbled to the ground, ending up in a mass on the hard ground below. The usual “pushing and kicking to get back up,” accompanied by the painful realization that Ionese grass was actually quite a few degrees sharper than the Earth affair, quickly followed. By the time the token female heroes were back to their feet, they were already expositing a litany of curses towards Martinez’s negligence in mission briefings. At least, by all they could gather, they were at the right spot.
Ivonne reached into her pocket, pulling out a small map of the city itself. Val, meanwhile, flipped on a small earpiece, previously hidden under her hair. “Mother Wolf calling Papa Smurf. Mother Wolf calling Papa Smurf. Do you copy?”
BACK AT THE TASK FORCE HQ…
GG Crono briefly removed the headset, long enough to smack himself for choosing such retarded call signs, before slowly remounting for another long, hard operation. “This is Papa Smurf. Reading you loud and clear. Report your current coordinates.”
BACK AT IONA…
Esker fumbled around her satchel for a few seconds, before pulling out a small GPS-like device. A few generic button pushes later, and the screen flashed green with a sparsely-detailed map of the surrounding area. “Okay…it’s saying…187.93.”
A few seconds passed. “You’re on target. The next wave of the Ion storm should be passing in about five hours EST. The operation is a go.”
Val’s earpiece let out a small burst of static, followed by a faintly audible click. The valkyrie replaced the GPS, swung Gungnir over her shoulder, and turned her attention back to the other two. “Alright, we’ve only got five hours to do this. Ivonne, any idea how we get inside?”
“There’s an old sewer network running underneath the block. If we can get inside, we might be able to tunnel in, grab Gemini, and slip out without anyone noticing. All we need are some shovels, some low-grade plastic explosives, and a couple of M-60s in case things go wrong…”
Weiila simply facepalmed, while Val let out a deep, remorseful sigh. Ivonne, meanwhile, continued to drag on about the various ways they could possibly break inside and cause an interdimensional incident. “…And then, if we prime the chickens long enough, we can…”
“Um…Ivonne?” said Weiila. “It’s…all well and good that you’re helping us and everything, but there’s an easier way.” She walked all of ten feet to the left, revealing a very large, very obvious front door. “It’s called ‘peripheral vision.’”
Ivonne’s face ran red with embarrassment. “Y-Yeah, if you want to do it the STUPID WAY!”
The three crowded around the door, composing themselves for the no doubt dangerous situation ahead. They nodded the usual acknowledgments, said silent prayers, and…knocked on the door. Silence followed, finally being broken up by the sound of rushing feet and alien cursing. Finally, the door swung open, revealing a flustered old man holding what resembled a mop. “What do you want?” he snapped.
“Um…is this…Lady Deralin’s house?” asked Val.
The man simply stared at the three, no doubt figuring out which horrible fates to wish upon them. “Yes, THIS IS her home. THIS IS her maid you’re talking to. And if THIS IS not important business, then by the First Matriarch, I’ll slam you from here to the Agrei Wetlands! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”
Ivonne started running in the opposite direction, only stopping when Val grabbed her by the throat and dragged her back down. “Oh, it’s very important. It’s about her…um…girlfriend?”
The man smiled, the evil kind of smile that could kill kittens from a hundred yards away. “Oh, you mean that annoying snot she hangs out with? Yeah, they decided to redecorate the kitchen with melon pulp last night, and who gets to clean it up? ME!”
“O…Okay, then where are they?”
“They left for the palace thirty minutes ago! Want to see them? COME BACK TOMORROW!” And with that, he slammed the door so hard the sheer impact send the three sprawling back a few steps.
MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE PALACE…
Gemini and Deralin sat in the lavish reception room. The room, much like the palace itself, was a strange mix of familiarity and alien architecture. The walls were plastered a deep purple hue, and when combined with the magical flaming braziers on the ceiling, worked to create a blinding cornucopia/localized solar flare. The furniture was carved out of some Ionian wood whose name Gemini didn’t care to remember, but was way out of the price range for just about every other living being on the planet. As for the rest of the furnishings…well, they were as gaudy as anything on Earth. Bad taste can be found everywhere in the universe, it seems.
Gemini was seated on a couch, bunched over, head in hands. Deralin, meanwhile, was busying herself with her spellbook, going through every exact step of their plan. The only noise to be heard was the dull, monotonous ticking of a large clock hanging above the single entrance door. There was another set of wooden portals, another one of those “hand crafted by hundreds of slave laborers” things you find in any hedonistically elaborate chamber, but it was strictly off limits to anyone that wasn’t currently ruling all of Iona. In other words, those two.
After a seeming eternity of stone-cold silence, Deralin finally noticed Gemini’s nervousness. “Oh, come on. We went over everything fifteen times already! We’ve got it down pat!”
“Well, excuse me if I’m a little worried here. I mean, I’m in the middle of a palace, about to meet the same person that, if you don’t remember, WANTED TO KILL ME?!”
Deralin waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, please. That was when…”
“And what if this doesn’t work? You said anyone this…First Matriarch possesses dies in minutes. And even then, how do we make sure it possesses the right body? Oh, and what if she RECOGNIZES ME?! Ever thought of [i]that{/i]?”
Their thoughts were interrupted when the double doors opened, revealing the red-robed form of the Matriarch. No bodyguards, no soldiers, nothing else but the old woman and the unbridled power she held. Gemini immediately slid off the couch and into a crouch, while Deralin simply threw her book down and stood straight up, as rigid as a telephone pole. The Matriarch, for her part, made no attempt to diffuse the nearly-strangulating tension, simply standing there and regarding both figures with a mixture of contempt and general apathy.
Finally, her eyes made their way to the still-kneeling Gemini. “Is this the girl, Deralin?”
“Y-Yes, Matriarch.”
“Have you explained the process to her?”
“Yes.”
The cold sneer softened quickly. “Very well. Stand, young one.”
Gemini pulled himself upwards, until he was almost eye level with the Matriarch. He had never actually seen the woman this close before; the last time she was in public, his brother and former teacher were actually trying to fight her. Now, away from the frantic screams and curses of battle, he saw what might very well be the most powerful force on Iona. And it scared the piss out of him.
The Matriarch’s eyes fluttered open in surprise. She scanned every waking inch of Gemini, most especially the face. Finally, she turned back to Deralin. “Is this the friend you’ve been talking about? The one living with you?”
Gemini darted Deralin the classic “I will beat you down for this, I swear” sneer that has started many a sitcom laughtrack. Deralin squirmed slightly as she responded. “Er…Uh…Yes, Mothe- I mean, Matriarch.”
The Matriarch looked at the still-transgendered girl, then back at Deralin. “Why didn’t you tell me she was this lovely?” Deralin’s jaw dropped, while Gemini felt his ego shrinking even more. “And you are certain she is okay with this?”
“Yes, Matriarch.”
Do I get a say in this? thought Gemini. Fortunately, he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut for the time being.
“Very well, then,” said the Matriarch. “Follow me to the basement. Time grows short.”
MEANWHILE, BACK ON THE STREETS…
“We are officially lost.”
Weilla quickly folded up the map and handed it back to Esker. The valkyrie, meanwhile, was still busy trying to figure out the city’s maze-like layout. Ivonne, meanwhile, was freely conversing with the locals; the sheer number of slap marks appeared to faze her little. They could easily make out the palace (it appeared to stand several dozen feet taller than any other building in town), but in the short time since the last map’s creation, so many walls and roads had sprung up that the entire thing seemed more like an eternal trap.
“This isn’t what I signed up for at all,” Esker bemoaned. “I wanted to bash some alien heads in, maybe screw a few on the side, and get back in time to dump that tub of radioactive waste on Glenton’s face. Wandering around a rat maze is NOT how I wanted to waste my Sunday.”
“Don’t worry. Given our track record, you’ll be surrounded by a mountain of corpses in the next fifty minutes.”
Ivonne suddenly came running back, holding a small napkin with scribbled directions. “Hey guys! I think I found a way to the palace!”
Esker snatched the paper out of her hands, rolling her eyes slightly as she did so. Before long, however, their faces turned to pure surprise. Weiila opened up their own map, and sure enough, the directions matched perfectly. “Wow! How did you get these, Ivonne?”
A FEW MINUTES EARLIER…
Ivonne finished tracing down the parade route, and bolted off before the kiosk operator could see her.
BACK IN THE PRESENT…
“Oh, I have my ways…”
MEANWHILE, BACK AT DEEP 14…
GG Crono, Pierson and Martinez continued to watch the monitors, desperate for any positive updates on the mission’s progress. Sadly, all they could see were the three girls huddling back together, with no sign of Gemini or the Matriarch. The whole spectacle was so disappointing, demigod had already excused himself to go watch Dr. Forrester and Frank race go karts with mounted bobble heads of David Hasselhoff and that fat guy from “Wings” around the back cave. And no, they weren’t asking why they chose those particular heads, or why they kept silently screaming for release from a nightmarish existence. Finding that one guy that hadn’t really done anything of importance over the last two years was a far more pressing matter.
“Well, we can label this whole thing a bust so far,” said GG Crono. “Once again, our intel has failed us.”
“Something’s wrong,” muttered Martinez. Pierson’s glare shifted towards the Puerto Rican. “The Ionese place a lot of their reputation on their cultural history. And part of that is the capital’s infrastructure, especially in the market district they’re in right now. Last time I checked, you couldn’t build anything in those places, least of all a road. Furthermore, the new walls are blocking off shortcuts to the palace.”
“So what?” asked GG. “They’re probably just setting up security or something.”
“No, that’s not it,” said Martinez. “During my first visit to Iona, they had the exact same configuration. The same walls, the same roads, everything. A few hours later, I was running from some guards, and-”
“Guards?”
“Erm…I was…okay, I got caught sneaking into a High Mage’s daughter’s bedroom.” Cue dirty old man blushing. “But enough about that. I was chased to a far end of the city, and by the time I managed to get back, the walls were gone, the roads were being paved over, and everything was like it should be. The only thing I could find were some ribbons and a few banners.”
“You mean…this is a parade route?”
“None of these things are new. Their only purpose is to make sure the Ionese see how wonderful the Matriarchs are. But there’s another problem. They just HAD their annual parade. The only time they have two in the same year is…”
“Hey guys! They’re moving out again!”
As usual, no matter how long it passes between installments, you always make then interesting, even fun, to read, Gallo. I mean it, I’m actually envious of your ability. I can’t wait to see what happens to the girls (and Gemini!)
Well, here’s the rest of Story A. Story B is half finished (in one hour-long sitting, to boot!) and will be up either tomorrow or Sunday.
And yes, I know it ends kinda abruptly. I hit the fifteen-page limit for the Story A, and couldn’t think of a smooth transition to the next chapter. (That’s when things get weeeeird.) So, sorry about that, and try to enjoy.
MEANWHILE, UNDERNEATH THE PALACE…
The Matriarch continued to lead Deralin and Gemini down the carved stone steps, as the ornate regal trappings above gave way to a natural rock cavern. The magic lanterns and braziers of the upper levels were replaced by far less interesting wooden torches and a few small cracks of natural sunlight from the roof above. Even these started to fade the deeper they ventured, leaving the three reliant on old-fashioned gas lanterns. The stairway became ever slicker, the combination of precipitation and general disuse creating a potential spectacle Action Park would be proud of.
The Matriarch positioned herself far ahead of her two followers, while Deralin and Gemini grouped closer together. Deralin’s former confidence had long since begun to melt away, replaced with an ever-increasing anxiety at just being next to her mother. Gemini, meanwhile, was still reeling from meeting his girlfriend’s mother, as well as with his general unease with the whole proceeding.
Finally, the trail ended at a large, circular chamber in the palace’s foundation. Scrawled on the black stone floor was a white chalk pentagram, the kind seen in Z-grade horror movies and late-late TV shows. Bloodstains dotted the landscape, accompanied by the tell-tale scratch marks of several great struggles. Surrounding the circle were massive half-domes, all containing glowing green crystals. The atmospheric glow gave the whole thing an appearance not far from the X-Files.
The Matriarch motioned towards the center of the circle. “Step inside, young one. The ritual shall begin.”
Gemini glanced back at Deralin, hoping beyond hope for something, anything that would at least relax the situation a little. Her response was straightforward; a quick shrug easily suggested “get on the stupid thing before you REALLY piss her off.” Sighing, she stepped into the circle’s center, feet scrapping on the ancient stone every step of the way. “Now what?”
The Matriarch pointed to the opposite side of the circle. “Deralin, take your position there.” The daughter did as the mother commanded, eyes locked on Gemini the entire time. “The ritual is in two stages. First, we must pull the First Matriarch’s spirit from the spectral into the physical. Second, we must guide the spirit into the girl and seal it in place. Remember, once the spectral realm is breached, there will be a massive influx of raw power. You must maintain your concentration at all times, and above all else, DO NOT FAIL THE FINAL INCANTATION.”
Deralin knew all this by know. She had read and re-read the ritual time and time again. At exactly the last minute, just before finishing the final incantation, she had to squeeze in the cloning/gender change spell. Once that was done, one body would contain the First Matriarch, and the other would be pure, male Gemini. With the confusion created by the spectral breach, she could then easily teleport the right one to her house, and from there, it was simply a matter of sending him back to Earth. Easiest thing in the world.
MEANWHILE, AT THE PALACE GATES…
Weiila, Val and Ivonne finally arrived at the massive gates, completely exhausted from the various ordeals in the markets, the slums, and that small detour involving two lobsters and Bob the Builder. A pair of burly guards, female of course, stood in front of them. Behind the duo, they could make out various carts and giant lizard beasts being decked out with what looked like the leftovers from the Rose Parade. If the guards even knew of the ladies’ presence, they made no bother to acknowledge the fact.
Weiila finally broke the tense silence. “Excuse me, but we need to see the Matriarch.”
“No admittance,” said the left guard.
“B…But I thought the palace was always open,” said Weiila.
The right guard scoffed. “Tourists. Yes, normally the Matriarch may have been willing to see guests. Today, however, the palace staff need to prepare for the festivities. No one may enter.”
“‘Festivities?’ For what?” asked Esker.
The guards looked at each other for a few seconds, a puzzled look etched across their faces. “We have not been told yet,” said the left guard. “The Matriarch has sworn it will be a glorious day, however. Now, please leave.”
Weiila’s hand immediately latched onto Esker’s arm and pulled her away. Ivonne, meanwhile, suddenly became very fascinated with an old drainage ditch, running the length of the palace wall. The three quickly made their way to the side, the valkyrie releasing her grip on the Masamune’s hilt in the process. “What are you doing?” she snarled. “I could have taken them all!”
“We don’t need that right now. For all we know, Gemini’s locked up inside, and going around like Rambo with a sword will NOT help matters! We need to keep our cool here, at least until we can find a way inside…”
“FOUND IT!”
Everyone turned to Ivonne. The elf girl was standing next to a large, concrete-like gully, leading to a heavy metal grate. The gully was filled about knee-deep with brown, mossy liquid, while the metal grating appeared to be nearly rusted off. Above it rose a massive tower, obviously one of the corners of the castle. The spawn of Martinez’s loins, meanwhile, was quite proud with herself at the moment. “If we can just pry that thing off, all we’ll have to do is sneak down, go under the walls, and pop right back up inside! It’s foolproof!”
Weiila and Esker exchanged knowing glances. “Um…hon? Did they have sewers in the woods?”
Ivonne gave the angel a perplexing glance. “Well, ah, unless you count the bushes around-”
“No more!” shouted Esker. “Don’t…Don’t need to know anything more. Let’s just get this over with.”
The three took a deep breath and jumped into the gully. The thick, dirty liquid oozed up on them almost immediately, and for all its relative smoothness, it proved to be quite thick and murky, especially as they drew closer to the grate. Esker took point, drawing a small disposable dagger and wedging it under the grate’s edges. With a few tugs, the obstacle popped off, allowing the three to toss it inside and continue deeper inside.
The concrete structure gave way to a VERY deep drop. Fortunately, someone had thought to place a very convenient work platform right next to the gulley. The three jumped onto the platform, their eyes scanning for their next possible move. Then they saw the work elevator.
“…How convenient,” sighed Weiila.
MEANWHILE, BACK INSIDE THE SUMMONING CHAMBER…
The Matriarch and Deralin stood perfectly straight, hands raised in a Y-shape, eyes closed. All light suddenly vanished from the chamber, replaced only by the luminescent glow of the green crystals. Above them appeared a cloud of blue mist, gradually growing larger.
MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE ELEVATOR…
Weiila suddenly doubled over, gasping and coughing for air. Esker grabbed her and helped her to the floor, while Ivonne continued to try and figure out the controls. “Weiila, what happened?”
“M…My god,” gasped the angel. “They’re…breaching the spectral realm!”
Ivonne’s ears perked up at the news. “The what?”
“The spectral realm,” said Weiila. “A…sort of hell, if you will.” She climbed back to her feet, still slightly dizzy. “Erm…sorry. I got sucked in there a few months ago, and…I can still feel that place.”
Ivonne and Esker exchanged a short, frustrated glance, before returning to the elevator controls. “So, if you can sense this thing…where is it exactly?”
“Below. WAY down below. Possibly at the lowest possible floor.”
MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE CIRCLE…
The mist slowly subsided, leaving behind only a small, fading white orb. The Matriarch let out a wry smile at the sight, while Deralin was simply shocked. Gemini, meanwhile, tightened her muscles and prepared for the possession. At least this was the one and only time she would ever be possessed. Ever.
The Matriarch and Deralin returned their attention to the ritual. The chant began yet again, this time increasing in intensity. The orb rose into the air, stalled for several seconds, and finally slammed back down, crashing into Gemini’s body and vanishing. The mage sprawled onto her knees, screaming and groaning in agony. The crystal lights shrank and descended, focusing themselves into beams of green energy, their power locked onto Gemini’s quivering form.
At that moment, the elevator finally came to a stop…about fifteen feet to the right of the whole thing. The three quickly jumped out, prepared for a few dozen guards, a few rock golems, a million demons from hell and whatnot. Instead, they found an almost pitch-black room, with Gemini sprawled in the middle of a blood-soaked pentagram while green lasers were slowly torturing him to death. To top it off, the Matriarch and her traitorous offspring were watching the spectacle, or perhaps sacrificing him to some dark entity.
Esker reached for Gungnir, her eyes adjusting as much as possible to the odd lighting. Deralin was just standing there, muttering something, making herself as perfect a target as possible. The valkyrie smirked, raised the spear…and watched as Weiila threw a rock.
At that moment, Deralin shifted into the cloning spell. Gemini screamed louder than ever, as an unseen force tore at his body, seemingly ripping it in two. His features shimmered in and out of existence, adjusting and readjusting to the new status quo. Vision blurring, senses dimming, he finally fell unconscious. The caster, meanwhile, was finishing the last spellword…when the rock slammed into her, eliciting a shout of pain.
The crystals suddenly exploded, showing the entire room in green mist. The darkness subsided, replaced by the natural grimness of the cavern. The three started working their way through the green fog, praying it wasn’t toxic, hoping to find some sign of Gemini. That was the exact moment the mist cleared…revealing a very, very pissed off Matriarch. Esker quickly took point, spear raised; Weiila started working on a Barrier spell; Ivonne simply backed up behind the two, not wanting to take place in the actual fight.
The Matriarch responded by channeling energy around both hands, moving her arms in a circular funnel formation. Val gave Gungnir a toss, targeting the sorceress’ torso. The spear hit its mark…and passed right through, imbedding itself harmlessly on the wall above the staircase. The Matriarch, completely uninjured, threw out a massive wall of lavender energy. Weiila responded by activating her Barrier, surrounding the three with a yellow bubble. The wave met the field, shattered it without hesitation, and tossed all three into the wall. The rocks sprang out on impact, completely cocooning the heroes.
“You fools! You little, pathetic insects! Do you realize what you’ve done?!”
Weiila spat out some loose dirt. “You were…killing our friend!”
“Killing? Killing? That brave woman offered her life to save us all! Thanks to you, the First Matriarch is-”
Gemini suddenly groaned and squirmed slightly. At the same time, Deralin climbed to her feet, hand covering the rather large bump on her head. “Errr…Gemini? Are you okay?”
The sudden activity quickly caught the Matriarch’s attention. She spun about, her eyes locked on Gemini’s rising form. The Task Force Reservist, the one everyone had been trying to save, climbed to her feet and turned around. What they saw was not Gemini. Instead, it was a completely different girl, long blonde hair unkempt, eyes a mixture of red and blue, nose noticeably shorter and rounder. The Task Forcers were speechless; Deralin was horrified; the Matriarch was overjoyed. “It worked! The First Matriarch has returned!”
THE END OF ISSUE 31
Next Issue: The First Matriarch has returned…or has she? And what of Gemini?
Explanation time.
I’m eight pages into the B-story, but don’t think I’ll post it. At least, not for a long time. To be honest, it’s horrible. It doesn’t work as an actual origin; it doesn’t even work as a good story. Furthermore, I don’t feel there’s a terrible need for it. The Guide to the Galloway RPGCVerse thread already has Pierson’s backstory for this series, and the one I’ve punched up contributes nothing. Instead, I’ll be trying to push through the next issue’s A Story, just so I can get to the B Story, the first thing in a LONG time I’ve been really excited to write. Besides that, I have to restart work on Absolution, continue the Final Saga, and probably start a new project I’ve been thinking about.
To be honest, the whole Iona arc was a mistake. I should have aborted it during its second appearance, but no, I had to keep the damn thing going. Hell, we were going to see what went wrong with the First Matriarch’s resurrection at the end of THIS chapter, but I had to hold off simply because I’m unsure how to show it. Oh well, live and learn.
Who was it who said, “we are all our own worst critics?”
Anyway, can’t tell if what you had planned was bad or superfluous without actually knowing WHAT it was, Gallo, so we’ll just have to take your word on it.
One thing’s for sure: you should be focusing on what you’re excited about first. Otherwise you risk running out of interest before you get to it. I’m pretty sure you’ll find the correct solution later. So, go for it! 
PS: You just HAD to throw a sewer crawl scene in, didn’t you…? Eeew. :hahaha;
And I thought I had low self-esteem.
d, you are good at what you do. Don’t worry about if its good or not, just slap it on there and let us judge. Hell, at least you are concerned with quality, unlike the average fanfic writer, from other sites who will not be named.
Just write and have fun, ok?
Well, it’s March, and no update. The next chapter will be up on March 31st, complete with the Pierson story and both A and B plots.
Hooray for double posting.
Well, no update. It’s been an…interesting month, what with the project crashing and burning due to FFXIII’s sheer suckiness, shake-ups at work, and just a general lack of drive. I never thought I’d say this, but I can barely remember why I still come here at times.
The update will be here at the end of April. I promise.
You’re not the only person frustrated in his writing attempts, you know. I’m still trying to finish my “American Superhero In Japan” story… I have it FULLY PLOTTED but the words-just-won’t-come ARRGH!! -_-
But I decided to stop beating myself up over that. I’ll finish it when the inspiration comes back. And I KNOW it will. And you people will see it here when it does.
Same thing with you and your story, I’m sure.
Now stop beating yourself up about it and go do something FUN.
It doesn’t. Has it ever come back? In my experience it hasn’t.
You know what? Fuck it.
Saturday night, I’m posting what’s been written, unfinished if need be. I’ve had it with this issue. It’s damn time I moved on.