Zeroraven

Chapter 5
Training Day



“Good. Now, don’t forget to control your breathing while you aim. Also, try to relax; tense muscles aren’t good for a blaster like you.” Hot lead was busy instructing Strike on ways of the blaster, while he and Nema watched from the sidelines. It had been one week since Strike arrived, and Nema had kept her word about getting some of her friends to assist in training Strike. At the moment, they were running around Galaxy city picking fights with Hellions and other low level baddies that crossed their path. As it turned out, Hot Lead was actually a decent instructor. Under his tutelage Strike hit more targets, conserved more energy, and was able to keep her power discharges at acceptable levels longer. Nema would occasionally give her tips about meleeing and keeping her distance in case things got rough. All in all, Strike couldn't ask for better teachers to show her the ropes.

It was around seven in the morning, but Strike was already dripping with sweat. The AHD training program was one of the toughest challenges she ever experienced, but it didn’t compare to fighting on the streets against enemies of flesh and blood that actually wanted to kill you. “So what do you think Lead? As far as blasters go, is she ready?” Nema asked. Hot Lead tugged on the sturdy leather strap of his rifle, eyes fixed on Strike as she continued to blast and dodge the incoming attacks from the small group of Vahz they found for her. Over the past week, she had improved greatly and wasn’t a half bad student. She did what she was told, didn’t talk back, and actually gave him respect; something he didn’t expect from someone that was living with Nema. “I’d say she’d be able to hold her own against anything that’s on her level, but I wouldn’t recommend her going it alone just yet. I don’t know exactly what your mission ensues here in Paragon, but I’ll tell you this: the circle of thorns and Banished Pantheon are not to be taken likely.” Hot Lead stole a glance over at Nema as he finished his last sentence. He saw as her eye twitched at the mention of the CoT and BP; it seems his contacts were on the money this time. “Who said anything about those guys? We’re just doing our god-given duty to uphold the peace, just like everyone else.” She responded coldly. Another tip that this was a touchy subject. For the few months that they have known each other, Nema always carried a lighthearted mood and demeanor. She was skilled, beautiful, and working for the betterment of everyone; there was no cause for her to get all moody over anything. “Just a hunch, the AHD’s track record speaks for itself concerning the two groups. The fact that they’ve gotten higher in volume in Paragon, coupled with two AHD agents arriving only strengthens that record.” He said with a sly chuckle. One thing was sure about Hot Lead: albeit a nice guy, he knew how to poke his nose around when he wanted something. “I’ll say this for your own good HL: being nosy in matters like this isn’t in your best interest. I appreciate your help with Strike, but I can’t guarantee your safety if you get in too deeply.” Lead tipped his hat, covering his face; it was all he could do in defense to such a serious statement.

Later that day. Everyone turned in for the day; Hot Lead officially stated that Strike’s training in “the way of the Lead” was over. She was now an official member of the blaster community in his eyes. Nema was busy sorting through files strewn out over the floor as Strike walked in from her shower. “So, now that that’s over, what do we do next?” She asked; Nema didn’t lift her head to respond. She was still looking over documents and pictures, totally oblivious to the outside world. “Hello, earth to Nema.” She looked up with a start at the cry for attention. “Hmm? What is it?” “I asked you what the next step is.” Nema sat up Indian style contemplating the question. While thinking, she tossed a free beer at Strike. During the week they’ve known each other, this had become a reoccurring process: if you want answers, then you have to drink up. At first, this just hit Strike as a playful gesture between teammates, but as it went on she grew more suspicious. Any answers that were given were barely understood, and as the night when on, things became blurry and inconceivable. “Now that you’re ready, it’s time to hit our mission head-on. These are reports from our contacts around the city. They’ve pin-point two separate bases of the enemy: one belonging to the CoT, the other to the BP. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and as team leader I’ve decided that we are going to hit both bases at once. We can’t confirm any connection between the two groups, but if they are working together, one will undoubtedly contact the other. If we get them both with their guards down, we’ll be that much closer to putting an end to their operation.” She finished her explanation by taking another chug from her near empty can. Just as suddenly as she was snapped out of her dream-like state of concentration, she was back in it staring at files and folders as if nothing had happened. I suppose these guys are either very weak, or I’ve gotten very strong. I just hope that I’m able to pull through on my end of the mission. Strike’s mind was racing with thoughts and strategies while she dried her long blond hair, and got ready for bed. “Do you think that it’ll be troublesome? I mean, I’m glad you have faith in me, but do you really think that I’m ready?” She called over her shoulder, unaware that her lighter half had gone back into her trance. With that Nema gathered all the files and folders in a neat pile and started toward the kitchen. “You’ve shown amazing improvement in the last week. Even with your natural abilities and skill, you’ve proven that you are ready to truly join the AHD’s fight against heretics everywhere. Don’t worry so much, I wouldn’t give you an assignment if I didn’t think you could handle it. I won’t let any more friends die on me.” She said with a forced smile. “What was that last part? I didn’t catch all of that.” Strike yelled back from the bathroom before reemerging back into the living room dressed for bed. Nema quickly wiped a tear from her eye before opening, and partaking of another can. “Ahhh, ambrosia of the gods. Huh? Oh, nothing, trust me little sista, you’re ready for this.” With that Strike headed toward her room and closed the door behind her. Nema was left alone crying silently to herself for the remainder of the night.



Sorry for the long wait, I hope this is up to par, and that everyone enjoys it. Please continue to review, Good or Bad, I need to know. Thanks.

Chapter 4
Aftermath



After the events in Atlas Park, the two agents were once again on the train heading to Nema’s apartment in Kings Row. While together, they sat in silence; Nema gazing out the train windows at the bypassing scenery, and Strike staring into space recalling the recent happenings. It had taken her quite awhile to recover from the adrenaline rush the battle gave her; she could still feel her hands trembling slightly. “First real fight, huh?” Nema said, finally breaking the silence. Strike jolted at the sudden noise that shook her from her hypnotized state. “Is it that obvious?” “Well, if you shook any harder, the train would jump the track for sure.” Nema replied playfully, smiling warmly at her while holding her katana across her lap. It was the same smile she gave her earlier in Atlas, the smile that made her forget that she almost ginsued a bunch of hellions in a flash. How did she do that? She must be more skilled than my report gives her credit for. “Um….” Strike started; “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Those hellions…..you didn’t….um” She struggled to find the right words not to offend her new partner. “Kill them?” Nema finished. “Nope, that’s not allowed in Paragon, hero or not. Those guys may be walking funny when they wake up, but they’ll live, trust me.” Strike nodded in response, a slight feeling of relief coming over her after hearing this. Sure, according to the authority that the AHD had given them, they were allowed to “dispose of heretics by any means necessary”, but the thought of killing someone in the streets left a bad taste in her mouth that she didn’t want to have to endure. She rested her head on the wall of the train and let her thoughts drift as they continued to ride toward their destination.

The train came to a halt at its next stop, the last stop for the two AHD agents: Kings Row. Strike followed closely as Nema lead the way to her apartment. As they walked down the once bountiful and lively streets of the old industrial city, Strike could only wonder why anyone would live here voluntarily. The streets were filthy, members of the Skull gang were at every corner, and the old factories left the town smelling like burnt rubber 24 hours a day. “Here we are, home sweet home.” Nema said as she stopped in front of a complex that looked strikingly similar to all the others in the area. The walls looked dull and chipped, litter was everywhere, and even the building numbers were illegible. This is supposed to be where we live for now? Ewwww. “The AHD set us up with a place like this? Glad to see we mean sooo much to them.” Strike complained. Though it wasn’t her nature, this sight could push anyone to their limit of patience. Nema simply shrugged and entered. “We work for a network of churches, what do you expect?” They climbed the apartment steps together (the elevator was out of order, surprise, surprise). Inside the apartment was surprisingly cleaner than Strike would have guessed, but only barely. There was still an aroma in the air that she would rather not have taken a guess at what it may be though.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you’re recruiting now.” A voice came from behind them causing Strike to nearly blow a hole in the floor. She turned to face the owner, only to see a man dressed in red carrying a very large weapon. Strike assumed a defensive position and was ready to attack when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down rookie. I know this deadbeat.” Nema said jokingly. “Better a deadbeat than the next star in a Hollywood slasher flick.” The man replied. He was wearing a custom made suit that seemed to be meant for a nice date rather than fighting crime. His weapon, which Strike had seen many heroes carrying, was slung over his shoulder by a sturdy leather strap. It seemed to weigh heavily on the man as he was leaning his body to compensate. “Whatever, anyway, this is Sista Strike. She’ll be staying with me while we complete our mission here. Strike, this Casanova wannabe is Hot Lead; our resident marksman and snazzy dresser.” “Pleased to meet you Mr. Lead.” Strike answered with a small bow. “Please just call me HL, or Lead, or Hot. All the other ladies do, if you know what I’m saying.” He flashed a smile toward Strike that hinted that he was only kidding…..maybe. Nema tugged on her cloak slightly telling her it was time to go. “We’ll catch you later Lead, it’s been a long trip for her.” With a carefree wave, Hot Lead headed back down the hall as Nema and Strike went in the opposite direction. Nema’s apartment was near the end of the hall on the fourth floor of the complex; it wasn’t exactly how Strike pictured it would be. There were beer cans and magazines scattered all over the floor and empty pizza boxes on the table. The small kitchen was piled with dirty dishes and grease covered the stove like a fresh coat of paint. This looks like a damn college dorm. She’s supposed to be a nun like me? She thought as she tip-toed around the small, two room apartment, trying carefully not to trip over the clutter.

After she had settled in, she and Nema sat in what Strike had concluded to be the living room. Strike sat silently drinking tea going over the forms in her folder, while Nema sat opposite of her; drinking beer and watching television. “You know,” Strike started “you’re not exactly what I had in mind. You’re an AHD agent just like me, and yet you’re so…..um” she stalled, once again searching for the right words. “Un-nun like?” Nema finished. “Exactly, what gives? I just realized that I really don’t know much about you, aside from what I have in my files. Mind letting me in on the Nema-story?” Nema gave her a mixed look, one of confusion and annoyance. It also seemed like the alcohol was finally starting to kick in. She walked to the fridge and got two more cans, then plopped back down in front of Strike, tossing a can in the process. “You wanna know, then drink up.” Strike hesitantly opened the can and started to drink the amber fluid inside. Not being much of a drinker, she nearly gagged at the first taste. This, of course, caused Nema to erupt in a laughing heap on the floor. “Good stuff huh?” she said as she continued to make fun of her partner. “Ok so, what do you want to know?” Strike tried to think. Even though she hadn’t even finished one can of beer, she was already finding it hard to concentrate. Let’s see, maybe you could tell me why the hell you’re such a slob, or why you’re acting like a drunken prom date, or…. ”Um…why don’t you tell me how you are able to use a razor sharp weapon, and not kill anyone.” She said as she eyed the sheathed weapon in the corner of the room. Nema took another sip from her can before she spoke. “I use a technique called kenshin-baiken-ryu. It’s basically a sword style that’s meant to incapacitate your opponent rather than killing them. It’s not common knowledge, but most heroes here use similar styles since killing isn’t allowed like I said earlier.” “Why is that anyway? Many AHD missions end in bloodshed, why is this so different?” Nema looked at the floor, shuffling through a pile of papers lying there. She finally handed a sheet to Strike. “This is your hero license for Paragon City. Everyone that fights crime here is required to have one. The rules of heroing in Paragon state that “heroes are in place to help justice, and not to take it in their own hands”, thus no killing is allowed. If we are to complete our mission, we can’t bring a bad image to our organization and have people asking questions. So, until we find our targets, we’ll have to abide by the rules for the time being. Understand?” She said before finishing yet another can. She must be quite the drinker. I wonder why she drinks so much? “Ok, now it’s my turn.” Nema’s words sent a chill down Strike’s spine. What could she possibly want to know about me? Please don’t ask about my past, please don’t. Nema gave her an accusing look at first, as if she knew what Strike was thinking. Then her features relaxed to their normal state. “Exactly, how much control do you have over your power?” The question echoed in her mind over and over. Visions of the ruined village flashed before her, the sights and sounds of death clawing their way to the surface of her psyche. Does she know? She can’t…can she? “Um, why do you ask?” Nema’s accusing look returned. “Well, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but it’s pretty obvious that you lack complete control. The way you handled yourself in Atlas was good for a noob, but you missed more baddies than you actually hit. Like I said: it was still a good attempt for your first real fight.” Whew. “Well, I can control my powers about as well as the next hero I guess. No real problems to speak of.” She lied. She knew that it was wrong to lie to someone that she basically owed her life to, but she couldn’t bear to have to tell the tale of her past. “Good to hear. Before we get started on our mission, we’ll have to get you some experience. I’ll have Hot Lead and few other friends I’ve met here take you around and show you the ropes. When you’re ready, we’ll show those heretics what the wrath of god really is. YEAH!!” Apparently, the beer was really starting to kick in. Strike was already finding it hard to stay awake, as her head bobbed up and down in a desperate attempt to stay conscience. The last thing she remembers seeing that night was Nema placing a blanket over her while she lay on the couch. “We’ll continue this tomorrow. Get some sleep; I’ll see you in the morning……lightweight.” Her laughs sent her into a deep sleep, as thoughts for tomorrow raced in her mind.

I gotta wonder it's a bad thing to get death threats in game to write more. Oh well, thanks for the tells and reviews. I'll have the next chapters up soon.

Chapter 3
Sisterhood


“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your conductor speaking. We’ll be arriving in Atlas Park, Paragon City in approximately 20 minutes. Please ensure that you have your personal belongings, and make your way to your seats as we near the end of our trip. That is all, Thank you.” Strike awoke with a jolt from the intercom’s announcement. She looked around to find herself stretched across both of the seats in her row. Everything was just as it was before her mind left the train. God, I hate sleeping. The same thing every time, the same dream. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she pulled out a thick envelope labeled “AHD members only”. Inside were papers detailing her mission in Paragon; mostly information on the gangs, cities, and a few contacts that work with the AHD. So, where will I start? I’ll be arriving in Atlas Park; I suppose the best move would be to find the other agent that was sent before me. NemA, is it?
The folder also held a dossier for another AHD agent sent in a few weeks before Strike was called. Sista Nema was her name; she didn’t look too much older than Strike. What kind of nun uses a deadly weapon like a katana , She thought as she read up on her fellow agent’s information.

Sista Nema:

Age: 22
Sex: Female
Status: Current AHD agent, stationed in Paragon City

Bio:
Nema is an interesting case as far as AHD agents go. She was raised at a young age as a nun at St. Lawrence cathedral. Though she wasn’t a model nun, she showed impressive abilities that would prove useful to the organization. Along with the regenerator implants installed in her body, she is also skilled with her katana. On the downside: she has quite the temper; that has lead to many of her missions ending in unwanted bloodshed. Though Nema has been repeated lectured and disciplined, her anger, and rashness remains. For the situation reported in Paragon, She seemed like an obvious choice.

P.S. Strike, if you do run into Nema during your mission; you are advised to work with her. She knows more about the city than you, and can show you how to survive out there. Chances are she’ll be expecting you when you arrive.

Great, not only am I stuck in a cesspool of heretics; I have to pal around with a sword wielding, homicidal maniac! “This is not how I wanted my first assignment to be”, she said softly to herself. She closed the folder and waited for the train to reach its destination. Strike looked out the window as the city came into view. “Atlas Park, Paragon city. The train will be docking shortly, thank you for choosing “Here to There” for your travel needs. Please be sure to ride with us again. Thank you” the conductor spoke over the intercom.
To say that Strike was amazed would be an understatement. London was a big town, but it didn’t begin to compare to this sight. Everywhere she looked, there were skyscrapers, hustle and bustle, and people in tights being heroic. She had heard that this was the city of heroes, but now she actually believed it! In the station she looked around for anyone that may look like a contact or informant from the church. She saw none, instead she caught glimpses of men and women in flashy costumes running on and off trams to go who knows where. Looks like I’m on my own then. Fine with me. She thought as she exited the station.

Suddenly, something caught her eye. A group of men, with bandanas over their faces and coats with Goat heads on the back were running into an alley between two tall buildings. Strike recognized those characteristics from her information folder. Hellions. What are they up to? She decided to follow them down the alley to find out. At the end of the alley, a small group of them were crowded around something, or rather, someone. “We told you we didn’t want to see your face in Atlas anymore, snitch!!” One of them spoke. They were surrounding a man, small in build and stature who was obviously intimidated by his “companions”. The small man was cornered with his back to the wall; for some reason, he didn’t bother yelling for help like Strike expected someone in his position would. Strike stood at the entrance of the alleyway, and looked around for possible assistance. The police were nowhere in sight, and heroes were speeding by at speeds that made it impossible for her to get their attention. This isn’t in the job description, but I can’t stand by and let this happen!

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!” She said, pointing in a dramatic fashion. Oh geez, what am I doing? I look like a bloody power ranger! The Hellions were very amused at the interruption, erupting in roar of laughter. One Hellion stepped away from the pack, apparently wearing some kind of mask. It seemed like there were spikes coming from his head. “Look little girl, the church is down the street. Now run along before we arrange a more personal meeting with your god” he said in a non-chalant fashion as he returned his attention to his previous business. Why aren’t they taking me seriously? What am I doing wrong? Then Strike realized that she was still wearing her full body cloak that made her nun like appearance complete. Tossing it aside to reveal her costume, she planted her feet and leaned back slightly as if preparing for an unseen force to push her backwards. Forming a fist with her right hand, and pointing it directly at the hellion that made the rude statement; she gripped her arm with her left hand as she begun to concentrate. Once again, the feeling of burning palms resurfaced as her hand begun to glow, and her body begun to shake violently. With that, a powerful sphere of energy left her hand, nearly knocking her on her back, hurling toward the pack.

The leader, which Strike concluded was one of the infamous “fallen”, turned around just in time to see the blinding image rushing toward his face. The blast knocked the thug to the ground with a resounding “THUD”, as the rest of his comrades finally took notice of the situation. “I smell spandex!” One of them said as the group eyed their attacker. “You picked the wrong party to crash little girl! Tear her apart!” the fallen said, still rearing in pain from the blast. Strike realizing that she was outnumbered, stood her ground and begun to take aim at her enemy. I’ll destroy the spiders, so the butterflies my flourish. Amen. She thought as she blasted one after another. They came at her with bats, knives, and fist flying. With the grace of a professional dancer, she dodged blow after blow while still unleashing with attacks of her own. Everything was going well until she had backed out of the alley, bumping into another group in the street. Strike turned around just in time to see a Louisville slugger bat flying toward her. No amount of speed, or agility would have saved her from the blow that followed. Dammit, didn’t see them ; she thought as she took a knee and gripped her head. She could feel the warmth of her blood as it ran down her face. “Told you to take a hike, babe. Now it’s too late, FINISH HER!!” As they closed in on her, she tried to stand, but couldn’t. Everything was a haze of blurs and sounds. She looked around once more for assistance only to notice that everyone, including the police ran in terror from them. Cowards.

Suddenly and yell of pain was heard back in the alley. Everyone turned to see the Leader stumble out to the street with small cuts covering every inch his body. “Now is that anyway to treat a lady? And she’s a nun from the looks of it” a soft voice came from the alley. Everyone, including Strike, was completely mesmerized as to what could have done that kind of damage in such a short amount of time. “You boys need to be taught a lesson. There’s no place or need for Heretics such as you in this world!” A small figure emerged from the alley, wearing almost the exact same outfit that Strike was wearing. She had black hair and a face that dared anyone not to take it seriously. Nema?

“You the hell are you, lady?” One of the thugs spoke, obviously shaken by the entrance of the new player. “Oh, where are my manners? My name isn’t really important, but I’ll tell you so you can tell all your friends about the chick the kicked your butts. The name is Nema, Sista Nema. Remember it, fools!” The small woman said as she unsheaved her weapon; a katana nearly as long as her. The hellions regained what little sense they had left and charged her together as Nema charged from the opposite direction. As they met, it seemed as if the thugs didn’t even attempt to attack; Nema ran pass them like they were nothing and stopped just shy of Strike who was still on a knee trying to regain herself. Nema sheaved her blade waited patiently as the Hellions fell one by one to the ground as if god himself had decided it was time for them to go. “What a bunch of weaklings! You ok?” She said to Strike, whose jaw was practically dragging on the pavement at this point. “Sorry I’m late; I had hoped to meet you at the station to greet you. By the way, I’m Nema, Looks like we’ll be working together.” A warm smile had formed on her face that would’ve made Strike completely forget about the killer deposition she held earlier; if not for the pile of hellions lying on the ground behind her. “Let’s go rookie, the cops can handle things from here.”

Thank you for the kind words, the next chapters are already in the works.

R&R please, this is my first attempt at a fan fic. Depending on how people like it, i'll write more. Ah, what the hell, i'll write more reguardless.

Summery: Paragon city is overrun with thug, killers, and drug dealers; but there is another threat unforeseen to the public: The Heretics. That's when AHD VII comes into play.


Chapter 1
Prologue

London…..

St. Lawrence cathedral…..

Midnight…..

In a dark office, a man waits patiently as he continues his telephone conversation; his demeanor darkening with each passing moment. The only light in the room comes from the moon, shining brilliantly through the huge glass window behind him.

“Yes, I understand. If that’s true, then the situation is worse than we expected.”

At that moment, there is a solid knock on his door.

“Come in” he bellowed.

Not even acknowledging the visitor, the man when back to his conversation looking more and more concerned. The visitor entered the office, stepping carefully toward the desk in the center where the man continued to talk.

“The agent is here. Yes, she’ll be briefed and deployed at once.” He spoke as he looked up to see what appeared to be a young nun standing before him. “Be careful out there, Goodbye.” The phone hit the receiver with a sound that echoed through the room.

“Please, be seated;” he said as he gestured to the chair in front of the desk.

“I understand that you’re new with the division, so I’ll try to fill you in as much as possible. You were selected because you’re abilities are commendable, and you’re loyalty to the church is second to none”; as he spoke, the woman remained motionless before him. “Throughout the world there is chaos. Police and these so-called Heroes can only handle so much, and even with their help the real threat still remains. Do you know what the real threat is miss……”

“I’m called Strike, Father. Sista Strike”

“Yes, Strike then.”

“As for your question, the answer is….Heretics. Those that do harm to the church”

“Correct. Many people don’t see these people as definite threats since their actions don’t violate their laws in most cases. But they are a threat, a threat that must be dealt with.”

There was a long silence as the man rose from his chair and walked to the window behind him.

“I’ve just received word from our agent in paragon city that the numerous gangs there have violated the sacred laws of our church in the vilest ways imaginable. However, that’s not the most disturbing piece of news from paragon. It would seem that our biggest rivals, the Circle of Thorns and the Banished Pantheon, are also there. There have been reports of them kidnapping citizens for their twisted rituals, and demon summoning. You will be dispatched to Paragon immediately to help deal with this threat. Do you have any questions?”

“What are my orders exactly, Father?”

At that moment the man turned around with a quite sinister look on his face. The expression nearly startled the young woman. He looked as if he himself was possessed bye a demon.

“Simple: Destroy them all!”

With that, the woman stood and began to take her leave.

“Strike” the man called.

” Yes sir?”

“Welcome to the Anti-Heretic Division’s seventh chapter. Make us proud.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.”

Strike exited the office without a sound. Silently, she walked down the hallway with a look of sheer determination on her face.

“Paragon city, huh? This should be interesting.”



Chapter 2
Genesis

The organization had arrangements for her to travel by plane to a small town on the outskirts of Paragon. From the town, she’d take a train that would migrate with Paragon’s train transit system. This would be a long trip indeed.

What am I doing here? Her mind began to wonder. I was promised these people would be able to help me control my power, and now I’m being sent to a place where I’ll only cause more destruction? She sat in a row alone, and began to drift off. Strike disliked sleep more than anything else. When she slept, she remembered. And when she remembered, she hated herself more and more….

9 Years ago…..

A place that no longer exist on any up-to-date map…..

“Stephanie, dear, you must go to school. You’ve improved so much, I’m sure everything will be alright.” A middle aged woman was sitting on the edge of a small bed; too small to be meant for her. At the head, a small girl curls up in a ball….crying. “But mama, I don’t want to. They all hate me, they all pick at me! What’s wrong with me, why am I like this?” “Hush child. They don’t hate you, they…..just don’t understand. When people don’t understand they get scar...” She tried to stop herself, but it was too late. The child looked up with a face that could break an angel’s heart. “Scared? They’re afraid of me? I….I…” There was nothing the child could do to stop the flow of tears that followed. “Very well, child. Today I’ll let you stay, but tomorrow will be a different story.”

Tomorrow…..
Tomorrow would be the end of all for the people of Strike’s village. An end to the hatred, an end to the name-calling, an end to it all.

It started like any other day. The sky was clear, the house smelt of home cooked breakfast, and the sleepy town was just beginning to come to life. Strike…..or rather Stephanie woke up feeling quite good. Her hands no longer burned, her muscles no longer ached, and the jack hammer in her head seemed to have run out of gas. However, she knew that she could not hide from the world forever, today, she would have to continue her life weather she liked it or not. Hesitantly, she got dressed and groomed herself. Downstairs, her mother greeted her with a “good morning” and a fresh plate of blueberry pancakes; her personal favorite.

On her way out, her mother softly grabbed her shoulder. “Listen to me dear. I can only imagine the pain you must be going through, and it sickens me that I can only give my words for comfort. The thing is: I believe, with all my heart that the lord gave you your gifts for a reason. I know you will grow to be a strong, beautiful woman that will help many people. Maybe, you may even be recognized as the hero that used to live here and be seen in the papers like those other people. One day, you’ll look back on your troubled times now and laugh. We’ll laugh together.” Wiping a tear from her eyes, the woman gently pushed the girl out the door and watched her leave for school.

Unfortunately, Stephanie never made it to school. A large group of upper classmen was lying in wait for her, out of the sight of by passers. They grabbed her and pulled her into an empty lot. “Well, well what have we here? If it isn’t the little freak that destroyed the playground last week.” One of the bigger boys spoke. Steph was surrounded, she couldn’t run, or fight, there was only one option left for her. NO! I won’t use it. I WON’T! There must be away out, maybe they’ll listen to reason.” I’m sorry for the playground, it was an accident honest! I didn’t mean to do it; please you have to believe me!”

It was obvious that they weren’t listening. “Accident, or not, you did it. We don’t want any freaks in our town!” With that, he and the rest of the students began to attack her. Her screams of pain and cries of mercy fell on deft ears. No one would come to her aid, no one would care if she was hurt, no one would know.

“I think that’ll teach her, eh guys?” One of the students said, tired from the “exercise”. As they all started to walk away, leaving the battered child on the ground; the leader stopped and turned back. “Hey Jason? Whacha doing man?” The boy called back. Jason, as it seemed the leader’s name was, had a sinister look on his face from what Stephanie could see (which wasn’t much with one of her eyes swollen shut). “Like I said, we don’t want any freaks in our town.” With that he picked up an old discarded pipe, and continued to approach. He’s going to kill me!

Suddenly, she had a familiar feeling in her body. Her hands began to burn, her muscles ached far more than any beating could do, and the jackhammer had refilled and was ready to go. This time, though, it was worse; much worse than the times before. She felt as if the world itself were collapsing on her; the pain was unbearable! By instinct, she raised her hands to attempt to block the incoming blow only to deliver a blow of her own. The boy had been knocked at least 30 feet across the yard and was bleeding badly. The other children could only look in horror as to what followed. Jason raised again, a look of sheer hatred in his eyes. “YOU DAMN DEMON!! DIE!!!” he yelled as he ran full speed toward her. By this time, Steph had no sense left in her; she knew not what was going on, or where she was; all she knew was the pain she was feeling. We’ll laugh together , she thought. The image of the angry 13 year old running toward her was the last thing she remembers seeing before it all went black.

The lord gave you your gifts for a reason…..

One day, you’ll look back on your troubled times now and laugh….

You Damn Demon!! DIE……..

We’ll laugh together……


Stephanie awoke to the smell of something familiar. A smell that made her want to throw up. It smelt like….like….flesh. Burning flesh! She popped up with a start and viewed her surrounding. Nothing……There was absolutely nothing. Everything was in ruin, from the lot to the street. Everything had been destroyed. She felt something familiar, a feeling of dread and loathing. She had felt this way before; when she destroyed half of the park where she used to play. She was responsible for this! Her and her alone!! Mother, what have I done!?

She moved as quickly as she could, trying to ignore the immense pain she was in. On the way home she could only cry as she passed the people and structures that were busy and full of life only moments earlier; now they lay as rubble and corpses. Oh god, what have I done?! It was an accident!!

When she arrived home, the scene was no different. Her beloved home was destroyed, as if a hurricane had decided to take a nap right in her bed. There was nothing she could do, she’d done enough….

“MOTHER!!!!”

Tomorrow…..
Tomorrow would be the end of all for the people of Strike’s village. An end to the hatred, an end to the name-calling, an end to it all.


Weeks later…..

She had been moved to a hospital after being found unconscious in front of her home. The authorities were unaware that the culprit was the little girl they were rushing to the emergency room as a victim. After she healed, she was taken to the local orphanage; there was nowhere else for her to go. There, she remained silent; barely talking, and never smiling.

“Is this her? The child found that the destruction of Tilmitt?” Two men where talking as they observed her from an afar. “Yes, that’s her. Says her name is Strike; made up obviously, but we have no other records on her. Why do you want to take her?” “Rumor has it that she was responsible for that incident. The tests we’ve run on her have shown quite unusual results.” “So, you’re going to arrest her? She’s just a child, it couldn’t have been intentional.” “No, I’m not going to arrest her. That incident is buried and forgotten to the world. However, if word got out that such a young child had that kind of power; it could be dangerous for her and everyone around her. These are hard times, there are a lot of people who would use her for God only knows what. She’ll be safe with the church, they can help her.”

Strike was called into the headmaster’s office. She entered like a ghost, not caring about her environment, not smiling, barely alive. “Take a seat Strike, please.” She sat. “This here is Father Alexander; he has agreed to take you in. You will live at the ST. Augustine church from now on. I do hope that you find the spark for life that I’m sure you once held; they will be able to help you.” Strike said nothing, she looked at the Father with the eyes of a doll, and then her eyes fell back to her hands. She was holding the cross that her mother had given her last year, it was her prized possession. “Are you ready, my child? Would you like to say goodbye to your friends first?” She rose from the chair and started toward the door. She spoke like she hadn’t spoken in years, low and fragile, “Let’s go Father; a demon has no friends.”

It's finally happened: all the gravity controllers multi-casting singularity has caused Paragon to become unstable and collapse upon itself. All will die (except controllers of course); we will live on to say "Yea, we did that".


(Who does more damage now?)