When you're trying to give an exam but your students keep getting summoned as chosen ones to other realms (part two)

Instantly, wards and barriers of all shapes and sizes and colors sprung up into existence, shielding me from the magical blast. The temperature in the room rose several degrees as Keisha, Anna, and a couple of the other students began chanting and charging and weaving together their magical spells. Swords and knives hissed out of their scabbards as the students wielding them rose from their chairs. Plasma rifles and nano-machines were pulled from pocket dimensions as Jasmine used her cybernetic eye to direct those students around the classroom while maintaining lines of sight on their target.

"You walked into the wrong room, motherfucker!" shouted Xander, his boxed AI expanding around him into a fully mechanized battle-suit.

"Language, Xander. The next time it's detention," I said from behind the shields. My eyes glared at the gleaming metal armor until I saw its shoulders drop into Xander's typical slouch. I turned my attention back to the Demon King. "He's not wrong, though. This is not the classroom you want to be starting a fight. Every one of these kids are heroes in their own right." I saw a gleam in not a few of the students' eyes and let out a sigh. After all, it isn't often that they get to speak their names and titles in our world.

Blue runes glowed all over Anna's skin as raw magic wove into a spell between her fingers. "Anna the Wanderer, Healer of the Grorder Fields, Mother to the Silenced, Slayer of Filliux the Dragon."

"Battle Queen Keisha, Savior of Hessia, Holder of the Final Line, the Goddess's Hand, Blade in the night," said Keisha with a mystical arrow drawn in a bow also made of pure magic.

"Sir Kevin, spymaster of Sir Arthur, forgotten knight of the Round Table, and defender of Camelot," said Kevin, his sword raised.

The weapons on the battle suit lowered slightly. "Uh, I'm Xander. I just got this suit for helping some kid with his history report on the 20th century. Apparently every kid in the future has one just lying around."

The Demon King growled, a low rumble in the back of his throat before slowly raising his massive hands in surrender and returning into the abandoned chair. The rest of the class remained standing, ready for combat. I set my gaze upon each of them in turn. "Class, please return to your tests," I said before turning back to my desk at the front of the room. It took another minute or two but eventually the students stowed their respective weapons and returned to their exams.

Ten minutes passed in relative silence, quiet except for the sounds of pencil scratches and the occasional groan. "Why do you make them do this?" asked the Demon King, "If they are the heroes you claim, why not train them in combat?"

Several eyes peeked up at the Demon King's question, and I knew not a few of them wondered the same thing. "Simple. I'm a teacher. This is my job."

"Why not teach them then how to wield sword or bow? Or drill them upon military tactics and strikes?"

I shrugged. "That's not in the school's curriculum." I saw more eyes on me now than on their tests. "It isn't my place to teach those things. Wherever these children end up, it will be up to them to figure out how to handle the situation they are faced with. The best way to do that is by learning. I'm not just teaching them math and history and chemistry, but also simply how to learn."

At that moment, another brilliant flash filled the room, this one a blinding white. Again, I needed to blink away the glare, this time finding Maria looking exactly how she left now back at her desk and the Demon King gone. Before I could say anything, Maria was out of her seat and storming to the front of the class.

"You fucking idiot!" she shouted, slapping Billy across the face. A couple of the students gasped while the rest fell silent, letting the lone sound of Maria's heavy, angry breathing fill the room. A realization fell across her face and her features reverted back from pure, seething anger to the shy, quiet kid with which I was familiar.

"Detention, Mr. S. You heard her," said Xander, breaking the tension and causing a few stifled laughs amongst his classmates, including Maria.

"Shut it, Xander," I said with a smile myself before gesturing to Maria, permission to continue.

She took a breath and nodded, again finding her confidence within her justified outrage. "You led the legions through the Undercaves of Merg, murdering hordes upon hordes of orcs on your way to the Demon King's castle."

"So what," Billy said, rubbing his cheek. "Orcs make up the bulk of the Demon King's army."

"The orcs in his army are with the army, not the ones simply making their homes in the Undercaves. The legions killed so many it was practically a genocide. Do you even understand the role orcs play in the ecosystem of Abaloth?" Tears started to form in Maria's eyes but she held them from falling and continued on. "Orcs are strong, tough, eat almost anything, and breed quickly. You know what else does those things? Tetrok rock spiders, Grovi venomous slugs, Sterbenzia wolves, and a whole bunch of other creatures with no natural predators except for orcs. We had a hell of a time culling their numbers while the orc population recovered and rebounded. Luckily, I guess, you did at least manage to defeat the Demon King because he was no where to be found."

Anna let out a cough. "Umm, he was actually here with us. Switched places with you when you got summoned."

Maria glared at Billy, her eyes narrowing as rage again consumed her face. Finally, she just threw her hands in the air, let out a groan, and stomped back to her desk.

The class immediately broke apart: some crowded around Maria, excited to hear her tale about the adventure, others huddled together to talk strategy in case anything like the Demon King came to our world again. And before I could get the class settled once again so we could finish the exam, Billy again vanished into thin air. Exhausted, I just sank into my chair and stared at the ceiling. Maybe we'll finish the test tomorrow.

From the Reddit Writing Prompts, something about you giving an exam when suddenly one of your students vanishes only to return covered in blood (it was a really long prompt). For the most part, the story followed exactly where I had planned from the start when I first read the writing prompt: it was going to be about a teacher whose students were "chosen ones" that keep getting summoned to other realms. Originally I did hope to write it with a more comedic tone (the kids constantly skipping class when they're summoned away, using the time they're gone to cheat on homework or study for tests, etc) but comedy is hard (constantly overthinking if jokes are funny). Plus it was making the story even longer so I cut the stuff I wrote or just didn't write out certain things. Of course, the hardest (and funnest) part of writing this was just coming up with the names and titles for the kids to have. I always suck at coming up with names, but it was fun this time to come up with their titles, until, of course, I took it too far and started trying to come up with backstories for the kids on how they gained these titles, forgetting that this is just supposed to be a dumb practice story. It's not as if I haven't been writing, it's just that I'm too lazy to type after spending eight hours in front of a computer screen. Also, I had a few setbacks in other stories that I was working on that needed to be redone instead of finished (I'll get to them eventually).

When you're trying to give an exam but your students keep getting summoned as chosen ones to other realms (part one)

I paced between the desks from one side of the room to the other, watching every movement of my students' hands and heads. Once I completed the circuit, I walked back to the front of the classroom. "Thirty minutes left," I said as I tapped the chalkboard for emphasis. Pencils scratched faster and a grumbled murmur spread throughout the class. Then I noticed Billy. One moment he was struggling through an exam I knew he didn't study for. The next moment he was tossing his pencil, notebook, and exam into his backpack, tugged on his jacket, stood up, and just vanished.

I cocked my head quizzically at the situation. The other students that might've noticed put their heads back down and carried on with their exams. A moment later, Billy reappeared drenched in blood, some of it dripping onto the floor. Besides the blood, a few tears in his school uniform, and the patchy stubble growing on his face, he didn't appear much different than when he disappeared. He gave me a brief, sheepish grin, pulled the exam and a pencil from his bag, and started again on his test.

"Wait a moment," I said as I rapped my knuckles on the wooden desk, "You know the drill." An unintelligible grumble swept the class as well as a few sighs of relief. "Don't get too comfortable. You will complete your tests right after we finish." A large binder came out of the locked drawer at the bottom of my desk.

"Aww, come on Mr. S," Billy said with his pencil still in hand. "I really want to finish the test."

I nodded along, skeptical. "I'm sure you do," I said, making a mental note to check that no dwarves or elves helped him on his chemistry exam, "but you know we do this every time one of you is transported to a fantastical world."

"Any fantasy world," Anna said, glowing blue runes lining her face and arms.

"Or historical past," said Kevin, a long sword leaning against the side of his desk.

"Or a technological dystopia," said Jasmine, her cybernetic eye gazing back at me.

"Or the far future," Xander said as he attempted to again hide the boxed AI that he used to cheat on tests.

Billy just groaned and dropped his pencil on to his desk. "Fine, I was summoned by the Kingdom of Latmier to help them vanquish the Demon King."

At the word "Latmier" I pointed to Keisha on the other side of the classroom. "Latmier," she said, "is one of the kingdoms on the continent of Abaloth in the land of Cenkorham, bordering the Kingdom of Hessia."

"Got to visit Hessia for a minute before marching on the Demon King's army with the remainder of Latmier's famed heavy cavalry," said Billy with awe in his voice, "They've got a giant statue of you in the center of the kingdom. They say you held off a thousand goblins alone at that spot." Keisha turned away, blushing in embarrassment.

I let out a cough. "Okay, and how long since Keisha helped Hessia hold off The Scourge?" I asked, attempting to track Cenkorham's history in my binder.

Billy looked away, as if the answer might be written on the ceiling somewhere. Based on his last history exam though, I didn't have much hope he'd remember any dates, but surprisingly a minute later, he responded. "About 300 years or so, give or take a decade."

I jotted down his response, making note that even after 300 years it appeared that life in Cenkorham hadn't changed much. "Also, why are you still covered in blood? Did they send you back right after the battle?" I asked as I put the binder away.

"Ummm," Billy said, tugging at his blood-soaked collar, "I didn't actually stay until the very end of the war. After our assault, we were searching the castle. I found this portal-thing and just thought, you know, that since all of our forces were inside the castle that they didn't need me anymore. So I just left, stepped through the portal and ended up back here."

"You moron," said Xander as several other students snickered, "You can't just leave a quest. We're chosen ones. You gotta stay until the end."

"Xander," I said, glaring at the student until he slouched back into his seat, "Language." Then I stared at Billy for a moment. "I guess if you made it back safely then there shouldn't be any harm. As your classmate pointed out, it is unusual." Before I could instruct the class back to their exams, a red circle appeared on the floor beneath another student's feet. Maria looked at me and simply shrugged as a flash of red light blinded the room. "Oh, come on. Two students in one day. I had this exam planned out for weeks," I said pounding a fist on my desk in frustration.

Once my vision cleared I found myself staring at something that may have crawled out of a nightmare. It stood roughly seven feet tall in bulky black armor that contrasted with its ashen-pale skin. Red runes covered almost every inch of the man's exposed flesh while something dark and eel-like seemed to swim just below the surface. Red horns, each about six inches long, formed a crown around his head. He stared back at me with eyes that burned like lava pits. Around him, the air felt charged, like a brewing storm. "So, who are you? And will Maria be back in time to finish the exam?" I asked.

The creature replied in a monstrous voice, its breath stinking of rotted flesh and buzzing like a thousand flies even from the other side of the room. I am Melkinzor, the Demon King, Bringer of Ruin, Landwaster, Burner of the Tellsalla Forests, Collapser of the Bilkasian Caves, Pillager of the Grand Hall -"

A textbook slammed onto my desk with a Boom! that echoed in the classroom and silenced our unwanted guest. "Sorry, did you say 'Demon King'?" I asked, turning my glare to Billy, who shrunk back in his desk. "I've a pretty good guess about why you're here, but if you wouldn't mind returning Maria, we do have a chemistry exam to complete today. We can send Billy back to defeat you tomorrow."

"Foolish mortal. I care not for your wants or requests. Denied my prize of Abaloth, I shall conquer your world instead starting with you swine that insult me with your presence!" The Demon King made a gesture with his hands that hurt my eyes to watch, and spoke a string of words that felt like they would cause bleeding in my ears. The air in the classroom charged with electricity, cracks forming in anything made of glass, and a bolt of red lightning snaked a path toward me.

Tourism Earth

As I walked through the subway station an alien hand grabbed my arm and brought me to a halt. I turned and found myself gazing at the top of a bulbous gray head. Damn Grays, I thought as I flashed the tourist the nicest smile I could manage before I've had my coffee. It tugged at my arm and pointed to another group of Grays, each of them holding another human being obviously pulled from the crowd on their way to or from work. Well, except for the Gray with a firm grip instead on the tail of a struggling subway tunnel rat. "Picture," the Gray said, tugging at my arm again.

"Of course," I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. The two of us joined the group where the Grays packed the humans together with a few of their smaller kin (possibly children?) spread between us as well.

"Damn Grays still thinking that we're part of the attraction," sneered a tall man through a wide smile. Seeing his pressed suit, I assumed he was also on his way to start his shift.

"They're the worst," I replied through an equally broad grin and brushing back my long black hair. "At least the Reptilians have more class than to just grab random people for a photo op. Though probably because they lived so much longer amongst us."

Eventually the Grays just walked away without saying another word, one of them dropping the rat at our feet. The teenager and I let out a scream as the rat scurried past his sneakers and my heels to disappear back into the subway tunnel. In the brief moment of panic, our group ended up in a loose circle staring at each other in confusion at the situation but accepting of the reality. I nodded at each of them in turn. "Survival is," I said.

"Survival is," they repeated back, nodding in agreement before parting ways.

Outside the subway tunnel, I found myself walking through streets bustling with people hurrying from one place to another while aliens of all types stood out in the open, gawking at everything that passed-by. If the aliens were out of the scene, the city would look like those pictures my grandparents had from before the Galactic Alliance's arrival. Except humans were no longer the ones in control but, as much as we hated to admit it, now a part of the attraction. We were a tolerated nuisance, and to make us more tolerable to the tourists, the Galactic Alliance put all of humanity under their employ. Now 90% of humanity danced, toiling at jobs that don't matter, everyone from CEOs in the tallest towers to homeless folks wandering the streets, farmers, shepherds, woodsmen, even as tribal villagers in the remotest of regions.

Finally I got to the building entrance. Tourism is a hard industry to manage, even harder when it's the only real business on the planet. To control it all, the Galactic Alliance set up monitoring stations across the Earth: in major metropolises, beneath the snow of frost-covered tundras, tucked against sand dunes in vast deserts, planted amongst trees of the jungles and forests, and even deep in the waters of our oceans. If it was a place the aliens liked to visit, there was a monitoring station close at hand. And the aliens loved every bit of planet Earth.

I immediately headed to the body-scanner before going further into the building. Though the Galactic Alliance saved our planet, saving humanity was just a byproduct of their efforts. A growing resentment was building amongst the humans, angry at being relegated to dancing monkeys in gilded cages. The frequency of attacks on off-worlders was steadily increasing. In response, the Galactic Alliance required all humans working in close proximity to their representatives be banded. I watched as a metallic collar fitted around the necks of the humans in line. At the press of a button, the metal band sent a pulse through the wearer's body and rendered them immobile. As I got to the front of the line the Slenderer reached toward my neck with the collar, a task that appeared impossible based on the thinness of the creature's arms. Before the band contacted my skin, a Reptilian stopped the Slenderer's hands, shaking its scaly head as it did so. I held out my arm. The Slenderer looked from the Reptilian guard to me and then back, somehow managing to convey confusion despite having no facial features. The Reptilian pointed at my ID badge and the Slenderer nodded and secured the band to my wrist instead. With the press of a button, the band tightened. I nodded my thanks to the Reptilian and continued further into the building. I saw the other humans with collars around their necks and felt thankful that my boss found it unsightly and cumbersome, especially if we needed to go out into the field for inspections.

I walked through the doors of a large conference room to find my boss already sitting alone at the table. The Reptilian hadn't donned the usual flesh-mask she typically wore when we walked outside. "You're late," she said sternly, not looking up from her files.

"Sorry, ma'am. I got held up for a photo shoot in the subway," I said truthfully.

She looked up from her papers. Someone once told me the Reptilians could smell a lie, something about pheromones. I still had no idea if that was true. After a few seconds she just shook her head. "Damn Grays," she muttered as her eyes went back to her paper. Then, with an absent wave of her hand, she motioned toward the small kitchen in the corner of the room. "Help yourself to something if you haven't yet eaten. We've a long day and I know how you humans get when you're hungry."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said as I made my way into the kitchen. I grabbed a bagel and cream cheese from the fridge and placed them on the counter.

Suddenly alarms went off, blaring sirens deafening to my human ears. Before I could ask what was going on, two men barged into the room, one with a handgun and the other with a device wrapped around his waist and a small remote in his hand, finger hovering above a button. They herded the Reptilians and a couple of Slenderers and a lone Insectoid into the room. They paused when the saw me standing in the kitchen. The gunman motioned to his partner and pointed to his neck. I lifted my arm, flashing the metal collar, and the two men nodded and went back to the other alien hostages.

My heart raced as I stared at the scene in unfolding in front of me. I was a witness to history. After all, no human had ever gotten so close to an alien official and demand change, though it might be with the barrel of a gun and the threat of destruction. I grabbed a kitchen knife and took a place just behind the man with the gun. The gunman turned toward me and I again raised the metal band. "Survival is," I said, and he nodded, returning his attention to his partner delivering an impassioned speech about freedom.

With the distraction and against the trust assumed in me, I lifted the gunman's chin with my free hand and stabbed my knife into his throat where the neck meets the jaw. His hands lifted in confusion and I pulled the pistol from his flailing hand. Placing a foot to the back of his leg, he dropped to his knees.

The room went quiet. I leveled the barrel to the bomber's chest. He just stared at me, confusion and anger alternating on his face. "What are you doing? This is for our survival. For our freedom."

I took a breath, and then another, before I pulled the trigger. Two shots struck him in the chest and he dropped to the floor. I let the gun dangle from my finger by the trigger guard for a Reptilian guard to take from me, which he did so with a nod. The other aliens just looked from the dead humans to me.

"Survival is." I said staring at my bloody hands. In the quiet of the room, I could feel the other eyes still on me. "It's a saying we humans use to get through our new lives. To me, survival is about compromise. We almost destroyed ourselves on our own and it was the Galactic Alliance that brought our planet and ourselves back from the brink of destruction. If this is what we need to do to make it another day, another generation, another millennium, then it's what we need to do to survive."

 

So, not a story I'm particularly proud of but one that I still needed to write if only because I'd gotten so far on it that it felt like a waste to discard. From a 2 month old Reddit Writing Prompt about aliens being angry at humanity for destroying the Earth through climate change as Earth is the galaxy's favorite tourist destination, or something like that. The worst part is that I originally had roughly this same storyline for another prompt about aliens taking over the Earth. In that original version, the main character actually joins with the terrorists, seeking freedom despite the aliens essentially saving humanity. If you read this and thought "Wow, living under an alien dictatorship is horrible and I'd join the terrorists" only to be surprised in the end when the main character chooses alien rule, congratulations, you also fell for the plot of Marvel's "Civil War" comic special. Obviously I said in the beginning that I wasn't too happy with the way this one turned out but I can't fix it now because I don't have the skill needed to flesh this out better, but mostly because I'm bored of it having thought on it for about two weeks and I just want to write something else already. Hopefully something better is on the way but if you follow this blog with any sort of regularity, you know that's not true.

Books of 2021: March

Why the hell am I bothering you with two posts about books you're not going to read when it could easily fit into one post for you ignore? Based on last year's reading list and the pacing I had at the beginning of the year, I thought I might read enough to justify turning this into a once a month post. Then I got lazy and didn't write February's post until now and I'd already taken the pictures, so I didn't want to retrieve all those comics and books again just for another photo shoot. So, now here we are. As a future note, I'll probably switch back to the once every three months posting as my reading has slowed down a little.

 

Vicious by V. E. Schwab

"They still had a minute before the final bell sounded, and even if they were late, the teachers would never mark them down. All Eli had to do was smile. All Victor had to do was lie. Both proved frighteningly effective."

"'You thought our powers were somehow a reflection of our nature. God playing with mirrors, but you're wrong. It's not about God. It's about us. The way we think. The thought that's strong enough to keep us alive. To bring us back.'"

Victor Vale and Eli Cardale are both smart and ambitious medical students. It's during a class project that they discover a common trait amongst emerging EO's, those few deemed ExtraOrdinary for their superhuman abilities. With that knowledge, they devise a plan to gift themselves those powers. It's a plan that ends with Victor in jail and turns Eli into a serial killer. Ten years later, as mortal enemies, the two are on a path of confrontation from which only one can walk away.

Vengeful by V. E. Schwab

Set five years after the events of the first book, Victor Vale and his group are hunting for an EO with a particular power that might be able to save Victor before he dies. Eli Ever is locked away in a government facility, putting his previous experience to use in locating other EO's. As the two of these spend their time hunting, another EO emerges, and Marcella Riggins is not one to hide in the shadows as other EO's tend to do. With her new powers she sets her sights on taking over the city of Merit: building her own team of EO's, taking over the organized crime syndicates, and manipulating Victor and Eli against each other.

If you like superhero stories, these are definitely books to pick up. It's just the start of the emergence of ExtraOrdinarys (EO's) and the public is still not convinced while the government is trying to get a handle on the situation. Of course, a lot of the people using their powers are using them for bad reasons, and the ones trying to stop them aren't much better. The powers in these stories are interesting and thought out, each one matching to the person possessed of them, and are different from other powers that we've come across especially with all the superhero/ power movies recently.

One of my favorite things about these books and Schwab's writing is the pacing. Though the main story actually takes place in just a day, the backstory that Schwab gives is a story of its own and not just huge info dumps. Both books are told in chapters labelled in relation to where they fall to the Present Day (the main part of the story). They can range anywhere from a week ago to over twenty years ago from today. Despite the story constantly jumping through time periods in multiple characters' lives, Schwab's writing makes it easy to follow along with all the pieces until the climactic finale.

Though it's a lot of information setting up backstories and the different pieces that lead us to the ending, neither story seems to ever slow down. Everything about Schwab's writing makes you want to press forward to find out what happens next. That I wasn't able to stop to hold onto a particular quote from "Vengeful" is a testament to this, the story just moved so fluidly that I couldn't pause long enough to hold onto a passage that might encapsulate the story, or even just something that really stood out from the rest of the writing. The only reason I managed to find a couple for "Vicious" was because I'd read it a couple years ago and already knew what to expect.

Books of 2021: February

Obviously, from the title and from the last post regarding this year's reading list, I'd meant to post this last month but, you know, lazy.

 
Solutions and Other Problems by Allie Brosh

"I can't force the things that happen to be fair. I can't make them happen for only good reasons that I understand and agree with. But I can do my own things. And I can do them for equally pointless and equally nonsensical reasons. Which is sort of like fairness. If you can't win, start playing a different game and score just as many points."

Allie Brosh's second book after "Hyperbole and a Half" and a long hiatus from updating her blog, "Hyperbole and a Half". Filled with stories ranging from her childhood to present-day adult life, from crazy and almost nonsensical to depressing and real, and all of it illustrated with her trademark crude, Paint artwork (at least I think that's what she uses). Some of my favorite stories are "Richard" describing how, as a child, she stalked her neighbor, stealing items from his house and leaving others at his house. It got to the point that her parents started to suspect that he might just be a child predator. I also enjoyed "Fairness," a story about how she got revenge on a neighbor who would hammer things too early by leaving a lone stick in the same spot in his yard every single morning for months. The chapter "Losing," .... this was a tough chapter to get through as it's about Brosh's downward spiral: her depression, health scare, her sister's suicide, and all the thoughts just racing through her head at this time. I literally needed to close the book after I was done just to take it all in.

I'm still not sure how I found the original website (I think someone must've recommended it to me). For the longest time, she disappeared and stopped updating it until several months ago when it announced she was releasing another book, "Solutions and Other Problems" (thankfully a link to her blog still appears on the right-hand of my own). Also, if for some strange reason you actually use these posts to find books to read (no one does because no one reads this), you're probably wondering why I have this since I've said multiple times that I always try to avoid buying hardcover books. Well, in this case, the timing worked out: I needed something to add to my Christmas wishlist for our Secret Santa game, and apparently I'm just as bad at thinking up gifts for myself as I am at buying them for other people. And that's how I got this book to read months earlier than I would have if I waited for the paperback.

Deadly Class written by Rick Remender, illustrated by Wes Craig, colored by Jason Wordie, and lettered by Rus Wooten

This ongoing comic series follows Marcus and a group of students from several different cliques at King's Dominion Atelier of the Deadly Arts, a high school to train students to become the best killers for their respective groups. They are trained in various ways to hurt, maim, and kill to make them useful assets to their respective families or organizations ranging from the CIA, Yakuza, Cartels, street gangs, freedom fighters, or anarchists. Navigating classes, friendships, teenage romance with violence constantly in the forefront of the story, the gang tries their best to make the right decisions for their survival. Though I originally started reading this comic for the cool fight scenes, it was the rest of the storyline that kept me coming back and wanting to read more. If you think that this just being a school where children are trained to kill is the craziest part of the story, it gets so much more insane. A roadtrip to kill someone's asshole father. A final exam testing yourselves literally against your peers. The artwork (as I mentioned previously when I talked about "The Umbrella Academy" I'm not good at art so my opinion means jack shit) wasn't the polished stuff you'd find in the pages of Marvel comics. Instead it has a grittiness to it that complements the storytelling. Like when I talked about reading "The Umbrella Academy" comics, I thought about writing about each volume individually, but I didn't write a summery after each one and I don't want to go scanning through the pages again to find out exactly what happened in each book, so that's not going to happen this time.

As I mentioned when I talked about Volume One a year ago, I found out about this series from the great but short-lived Syfy adaptation. If you can find it someplace, I'd recommend watching it. Originally, I had picked up volume one a year or so ago. Then, toward the end of last year, Gecko Books in Kaimuki went out of business and I picked up volumes 3 through 7 at a discount. Then it took me two tries to get volume 2 through Amazon (the first got returned without a reason and I was waiting for my refund before re-ordering). So, as timing would have it, I managed to get the full set at the same time I was reading "Solutions and Other Problems" and I dreaded carrying such a huge tome to work to read during my lunch breaks. So the timing of it worked out, and eventually I'll get around to picking up the other two volumes.

Replacement God

I shoved my way through the crowds packing the streets: some celebrating, some rioting, all of them uncertain about what the future might hold. Of course, who wouldn't be after finding out that not only was God real, but that He had been absent for quite a while and a new one would be taking over His position. For all they knew the next several hours would mean either Paradise or Pandemonium. And depending upon the outcome of our meeting, they would be right.

I dipped into a back alley, passing an old Harley, a white Rolls Royce, a battered pick-up truck, and a well used minivan. I banged on the steel door and when a slot opened I held up a gold coin. The slot closed and the door opened to reveal a large man with a sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun braced against his chest. "Down the hall, first door on the right, and take the stairs down," he said as he shut the door behind me.

I nodded, the serious look on his face deterring any questions. The coin went back into my pocket as I followed the man's instructions. At the bottom of the stairs, just like the vehicles parked in the alley, were an assortment of people who wouldn't have crossed paths if not for one common quality amongst them: they'd all been touched by the Divine. For most people, religion was about faith. Even the most devout in their faith carried the smallest amount of doubt. Those in this room, and others like it across the globe, though knew that a higher power existed, and worked tirelessly to contain it.

I took a seat at the table and waited for the meeting to start. "Can I see it?" asked a man to my right with a cocky smile. I reached into my shirt and pulled a small golden cross on a chain. The man shook his head. "That's not it," he said as his smile straightened.

I smiled at his sour face and pulled the gold coin from my pocket. "Aztec gold blessed by Huitzilopochtli," I said holding it between my fingers. As the man extended his hand, I snatched the coin away and slipped it back into my pocket. "Trust me, you're not going to want to experience this one." The man nodded in understanding as I closed my eyes. Any object blessed by The Divine carried its own weight. The memory of chests sliced open and hearts ripped out, and in exchange a blinding light that could dispel the ever-enveloping Darkness, washed over me like a tsunami of terror. Nightmares that haunted me since a crazed man in the park handed the coin to my twelve-year old self.

I opened my eyes to see the same haunted expression reflected back at me. The other man reached into his coat to reveal a single white feather, a streak of red marring an edge. "From The Fall," was all he said before turning away, the conversation over. I nodded. Contact with The Divine wasn't something most mortal minds are prepared to handle. It was the reason why The Dominion had called this meeting after centuries lying dormant, the tokens being passed along to someone who would hopefully never be called to serve.

A voice let out a short cough and the room silenced. A young woman stood at the front of the table, young enough that at first I thought she might be someone's college intern. Then I looked into her eyes and realized my mistake: eyes that had seen things over lifetimes, ages that the rest of the world only read about in books and some too old to have ever been chronicled. Not old enough to have heard The Voice proclaim, "Let there be light," but perhaps born in a time to have heard it echo across the world.

"You have been called as agents of The Dominion to respond to this new threat to the sovereignty of Humanity. You've all heard the broadcast, as did the billions across the globe - a new deity is coming to Earth. One that will want to play a more active role in out lives than our previous overseer. We are only human. We cannot prevent It. We cannot stop It. We can only work to minimize Its impact."

Though never having met before, without having spoken to each other before entering this chamber, we all nodded in agreement. We'd experienced the unfathomable power of The Divine. The wrath that destroyed cities, the love that ended famine and drought, the power that promised freedom while demanding obedience. No deity assigned to watch over humanity has ever been as benevolent as they claim. Most demand sacrifice of one thing or another. The ones that don't demand adherence to rules which humanity has no input in creating. Equality has never been the goal of an overload, only control.

The first meeting of The Dominion, and subsequent meetings, did what we were seeking to do again - wrest control of Humanity's fate from The Divine into our own hands. They too knew they couldn't fight directly against The Divine and instead sought to pull people away from the deity's control. Knowledge. Reason. Science. Humanities. These were their tools, and they would be ours as well. Persuading people that they didn't need a new deity to make their lives better. Sowing disinformation amongst the people to further distrust. Volunteering and funding efforts to help the most disenfranchised and vulnerable among us. Investing in medicine and technology to further advance humanity.

As we planned our missions, the woman continued to remind us that we were merely human, and to brace for the worst. People were still people. They'd give anything to just wish their lives even the slightest bit better. Or perhaps the new deity's idea of "hands-on" was more dictatorial in fashion - in which case we didn't stand a chance.

As I pushed back through the crowded streets to my apartment, I did something perhaps running entirely counter to our mission - I prayed. I looked around at the hope and chaos sown on the faces of every passerby and I asked the new deity, if It really wanted to help humanity, then  please, just stay up in the Heavens where It belongs. If It could do that, then perhaps all will be right with the world.

From the Reddit Writing Prompt: Humanity gets a message that a new deity is being put in charge after discovering the old deity has been neglecting its duties (it was a long prompt and I don't want to write it all out). So this took just a couple hours to not just write but to type as well. I hate that after not writing for so long because I was either sick, or tired, or just couldn't get started, or I was too busy, I was able to crank out something this quick because it just emphasizes how, really I'm just lazy if I can't get just one writing piece done per week as I keep promising myself I'll do. I also dislike how quickly I'm able to grind out the stories I write after long breaks as they've fallen into either the superpower or religious category. It makes me feel like I'm typecasting myself into these types if these are the subjects I can so quickly put together a story for. I guess the biggest inspiration for this story was Simon R. Green's Nightside series, or more specifically The Church of St. Jude. In the books, the church is just a lone stone structure with a set of benches and a table. It doesn't have a priest or anything to signify what type of religion it is associated with. The most important aspect of the church is that it is the place you go when you've got nowhere else to go because it is the one place in the Nightside you can be sure your god is listening and you may even get an answer. In the stories, the idea of God taking a personal interest in you and your situation is terrifying in that the answer you get usually will not be the one you wanted.

The Savior

 I threw back another shot of whisky and immediately another appeared in front of me. The bartender shrugged and nodded to the guy at the other end of the bar who raised his own beer to me. I let out a sigh, raised the drink, and tossed it back. Before the bartender cleared away the glasses I said, "You know, it was just last week when people would've been too terrified to be in the same city as me, and now they're buying me drinks as if we were buddies in high school."

The bartender again shrugged his shoulders and grabbed the glasses. "Perks of saving the world, Mr. The Omega," he said before walking away.

I stared at my reflection in the stainless chrome of my helmet sitting on the bar. Maybe that's what I needed, a demonstration to remind people who I really am. That The Omega is not their shining knight. It would be so easy too. I had conventional weapons as well as a few fun toys: the classic heat-ray that turned its targets to ash, and my custom sonic cannon that, when tuned precisely, would shatter bones or rupture organs while leaving the skin intact.

"Can I buy my new friend here a drink, bartender," said a voice breaking my fantasy of screams and suffering. A figure dropped into the seat next to me, pushing my helmet closer to me.

The bartender brought over a club soda for me (probably after I almost tipped out of my seat) and a beer for the other man. He raised his drink, clinking the neck of the bottle against my untouched glass. "Cheers to the world's newest superhero!" he said loudly with an arm wrapped around my shoulder. In the large mirror behind the bar, the rest of the patrons lifted their drinks too.

I took a sip of the soda. Leaning over to the other man, I growled, "The last person to touch me died such a horrific death that it took a full day to document the crime scene because the investigators couldn't stop vomiting all over themselves."

The man leaned in too, his voice no longer jovial but filled with the same venom to match mine. "Come now, Mr. Harry Richardson, is that how a man who saved the entire world should behave?"

My eyes narrowed and I leaned away to fully take in this man. A black suit just bland enough to tell me he was a government agent. He swiveled in his stool enough to show off the gun beneath his jacket and the badge clipped to his belt. "And the last man to use my real name took days to die, as did his family, friends, co-workers, neighbors, and even the people he graduated high school with," I said as I turned back to my drink.

The agent took a drink of his beer, then placed his briefcase on the table. Instinctively, my hand rested on the grip of the heat-ray on my hip. "Let's not be too hasty to kill the messenger, Mr. Richardson. I'm Agent John Smith of the United Nations Joint Task Force on Superhumans, and I'm here to make you an offer." He placed a folder almost as thick as his briefcase on the bar and signaled the bartender for another beer. I got another club soda.

"What's this supposed to be?" I said, not touching the file placed in front of me.

The agent took a drink of the new beer. "You're supposed to be a smart man, you tell me." Then he got up and headed to the restroom, leaving me alone with the file.

At first I was confused as I read reports about the event from last week. As I turned the pages, I realized what really happened behind the scenes. My anger built with every page I turned, and, to my credit, I restrained myself from marching into the restroom and vaporizing Agent Smith at the urinal. I flipped the folder closed and signaled the bartender for another whisky as Agent Smith returned to his seat. I threw back the shot then turned to the other man. "You set me up to save the world!" I said, my hand reaching for the grip of my heat-ray. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't turn your bones to ashes, have my people massacre everyone in your office, as I take a trip to your home and strangle your family in their beds."

Agent Smith just grinned, taking a sip of his beer and setting it gently down on the bar. "World Domination," he said as he picked up the folder, his briefcase, and his beer, then headed to the back of the bar. Though seething with rage, my curiosity at his answer stayed my hand and bought him a moment longer to live.

"First off, Mr. Richardson," he said as he settled into a booth, his smile never faltering, "thank you for not killing me and everyone else in the bar. I was really looking forward to this part of the operation the most."

"Keep talking," I snarled as another glass of whisky dropped onto the table in front of me.

"It's no exaggeration to say that you are the most feared and dangerous supervillain we've ever encountered. You've outright killed lower-ranked heroes, and even when the Tier Five heroes team up to foil your plans it still seems like you come out on top. The agency has tried numerous time to negotiate, bargain, bribe, and even assassinate you, all to no effect. So we studied you searching for anything we could exploit. What do you know, the answer is staring us right in the face - your goal of world domination."

Agent Smith opened the folder and spread each individual file and report onto the table. My hand clenched tighter and tighter around my glass as rage boiled up inside of me. For the safety of Agent Smith's health, my free hand followed along with each file he pointed to as he explained in full detail how the UN manipulated me into saving the world. The superpowered people they'd either manipulated, coerced, bribed, threatened, or out-right brainwashed into carrying out their plans. The specifications of the Doomsday weapons and their locations at certain capitals across the globe. And ultimately, knowing my goals of subduing the people through fear, and how the chaotic aftermath of destroying centers of political power would disrupt all of it.

Agent Smith leaned back in his seat and downed the last of his beer. "And there's nothing you can do about it. The superheroes, the villains, world leaders, the everyday folks. All their eyes are on you now. You can't go back to your old ways after what we turned you into." Agent Smith picked up his files, dropped some money on the table and slid out of the booth. "Good luck, Mr. Richardson," he said with a sneer before turning his back and walking out the doors.

I picked up my drink and returned to my still-empty seat at the bar. As angry as I was at being manipulated, Smith was right - I couldn't returned to my previous ways. At least not without generating more annoyances. "How much of that did your hear, Number Two?" I said.

The bartender switched off his earpiece. "Every word, Sir," he replied. I motioned with my hand and several other patrons stood and walked out the door, leaving the other civilians baffled. "He's right though. We've never played nice with the other villains but we had an understanding. They may not know about this conspiracy but they know we interfered with someone else's plans and now they'll be gunning for us. The heroes might appreciate the one heroic act but that doesn't change the decade of crime. One foot out of line and they'll come down hard. The civilians that once feared the mention of your name aren't even afraid to be in your presence. Killing them again will just lead to confusion, and not the easily manipulated type that'll docile them like sheep, but the stupid type of confusion that'll make them lash out like morons."

I nodded along with his analysis. Number Two hasn't remained my number two (or alive) for holding back in either his actions or words. "Yes, I'm afraid you're right. We'll just have to play ball with Agent Smith and the UN for now." I swirled the last of the whisky before downing it in a gulp. "Though this does show me that political power can be its own kind of power, especially on a global stage. Yes, that'll be our next plot. Start scouting for a region I may usurp as my own. Someplace I can offer a better life, ruling like a benevolent god while crushing the populace with an iron fist as they grin and sing my praises. Yes, that kind of country would surely hold sway within the UN in a few years."

"Yes, Sir. I'll put some men on it right away," Number Two responded as he poured me another drink. Then he leaned in closer. "And, Sir, about the insult?"

I nodded, taking the filled glass in my hand. "Ahh, yes, I haven't forgotten. It'll be my little project finding where Agent Smith lives, where he works, where he graduated college, and who he graduated high school with." I swirled the liquid thoughtfully before gulping it down. "No, everyone in his high school. Yes, that should provide me with some entertainment once the eyes on me become less watchful."

"Sir, you know that John Smith is probably a fake name?"

I smiled as I got off the stool and made my way to the door. "Of course, it wouldn't be fun if it were easy."

 

From the Reddit Writing Prompt about a villain brooding at a bar about how they loved being a villain until they happened to save the world (it's a long one to type). Not that you care, in fact, you were probably enjoying the quiet from my lack of writing posts, I was working on a zombie story. It took me about a week to get three-quarters of the way through before I realized that the story might be better if written from the zombie's point-of-view. And then I spent another week dreading going back and doing revisions (I'll get back to it eventually). In comparison, after not even picking up a pen for several days, I found this prompt and got this done over several hours in just three days. This "story" (if you want to call it that) is just a conversation and nothing more. If you're paying attention (which you shouldn't, you need those brain cells to remember other things like the date of your anniversary or the name of that dancer you liked to watch for when things get back to normal) you might recognize The Omega from the pizza delivery story. No, I'm not trying to establish some cohesive universe where my stories fit together. I just couldn't think of another name, and I'm lazy. Also, in true scatterbrain fashion, I do have several other stories in the works to bother you with: books I finished last month, that zombie story I mentioned earlier, my Pokemon fan-fic, some real-life stories (a topic in my earlier days of writing I tried never to write).