Royals Books and Music's Talos Island store was one of Cassadega's favorite places. Although it was fundamentally the same as the three other Paragon City locations, with the same selection of books and CDs and popular movies, Talos had one feature the others didn't...
Dave the Barista.
Dave was unremarkable in many different ways. He wasn't handsome but he wasn't ugly either. His thinning hair was an unimpressive shade of brown with streaks of grey. His eyes were an indecisive shade of brown, and his voice was just barely, not quite, monotone. Yet, despite all this, Dave had one quality that elevated him to a near Godlike status in Cassadega's eyes...
He was a genius with coffee.
With just the simplest of descriptions, Dave could make any coffee based drink in existance. He knew brewing times to the microsecond, understood which grind would be perfect for any situation, could judge water temperature by sight, and could, unerringly, remember customers' orders back to the first time they entered the building. Once he learned a regular's favorites, he could have one ready and in their hands in moments.
"Venti Quad Espresso, whole milk, ten sugars. Here you are Cass."
"Thank you, Dave, " She said as she handed him fifteen dollars and waved off the change.
Yes he was a genius. Quite a fair amount of her own tips made their way into his tip jar. She was determined to keep him right where she could find him.
Royals: Talos also had the advantage of being just a few blocks from her own apartment. Although she grew up in King's Row, she had moved over to Talos to get some distance from her family. She loved the old neighborhood but it was hard growing up surrounded by the cousins, and neighbors, and friends of friends of friends, that all combined into a massive interconnected clan. In the Neighborhood, privacy was something that happened to someone else; and when you were thirteen years old and able to hear the thoughts and feel the emotions of everyone within a hundred yards, it was too much to bear.
It was Grand Aunt Alecia that came to her rescue. Around the Neighborhood, Aunt Alecia was simply, 'La Bruja'. A witch from the old country. She had emigrated from southern Spain in the late 1950's and set up a small shop in Kings row. From there she had quietly raised her family and watched over the Neighborhood. She was the first person to recognize Cassadega's gifts and her first teacher. She taught Cassadega how to build a wall around her mind, and how to use her gifts to heal, guide, defend and, if necessary, to kill.
Aunt Alecia introduced Cassadega to other women. All of them were from the old country but they came from different places and different traditions. They all had something to teach her. Herbalism and Spiritualism, the Names of the Powers and the Forces, the forms of Ritual Magic, and the art of conjuring. Along with these lessons came generations of wisdom and advice, as well as a few more... esoteric skills.
Cassadega was part way through page 76 in her new copy of "The Sun Fell Down" when a very unwelcome thought brushed across her mind. She glanced over the top of her book to see five heavily armed men in gray uniforms step through the glass doors at the front of the store.
"Citizens, your attention please, " boomed the lead figure as the other four spread out behind him. "You have been given the rare opportunity to assist The Council in our ongoing struggle to bring a New Order to the World. My associates will be moving among you and collecting your cash and valuables. If you cooperate fully, you will be rewarded with knowing that you made our rise to power possible that much sooner." The assault rifles in their hands made it very clear what would happen if someone didn't cooperate.
The Council. A group dedicated to a total Fascist nation who, to a man, failed to realize that any hope for their 'New World Order' died in the 1940's. They were always armed and fanatical and, sadly, consistently able to recruit new soldiers from the idealistic and disaffected. They were a plague in the Neighborhood when Cassadega was growing up. She didn't hold any love for them now.
Cassadega marked her place in her book and slowly rose to her feet. She was badly outnumbered but she had a trick or two that would help even the odds. The only problem was that she had to get everyone paying attention to her. Being the center of attention was nothing new, but most of her audiences weren't homicidal.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, " she began, pitching her voice into the familiar ringmaster cadence that she opened her shows with, "As you can see we have a special treat today. It appears that the cast of 'Springtime for Hitler' has joined us today." Her hands started moving through a basic juggling pattern, small balls of light flared to life in her palms and spun into motion. She needed all of them looking at her. Time for some flash.
"I've heard its a good show, but you know, you really should look into firing your costume designer. Those outfits don't do anything for you at all." The lights shifted into more intricate patterns, weaving in and out, back and forth, hypnotically.
"And your casting leaves a bit to be desired. Paragon deserves better than roadshow Nazis..."
Five rifles snapped to shoulders, time was up.
Cassadega's hands flew out to her sides scattering the 'balls' that she had been juggling. At the same time she sent a strong mental command to every mind in the building.
Sleep.
The customers and staff fell unconscious to the ground instantly. They had no resistance to this sort of thing. She could see that she had tagged three of the council soldiers as well, increasing her odds to 2 to 1. Better, but not great. It was their move now.
The squad leader and his remaining soldier both opened fire at full auto. Assault rifles were loud and could spit out lead bullets at the horrifying rate of up to 600 per minute. This fact was strong motivation for Cassadega as she dove to her left and out of the line of fire. She knew she hadn't gone unnoticed as part of the 'Classic Mystery' section shredded behind her. She wasn't hurt yet but she couldn't let this go on for too long.
She scrambled down the aisle past the blasted remnants of Christie and Conan Doyle. The firing had stopped and Cassadega was thankful that they were at least professional thugs. They wouldn't waste ammunition firing blind. That gave her a few seconds grace.
Where is Statesman when you need him? Or Manticore, or even Fusionette for pete's sake? This is their job.
She could sense that the soldiers had split up. They were most likely coming around each end of the aisle to trap her in a crossfire. Since the aisle ran halfway across the store, she knew that there would be a hole in their timing. The soldier coming to the end closest to the coffeshop would arrive first.
Cassadega stopped moving and dropped bonelessly to the ground. She focused her attention on that end of the aisle, if she could just make eye contact for a moment...
The soldier rounded the aisle, leading with his rifle's barrel. His gaze landed on a body lying in a slowly spreading pool of blood on the floor. It was the dark skinned woman that dared defy them. He could see that she had been hit in multiple places and was as good as dead unless she received immediate medical treatment. Since his standing orders included confirming any and all combat kills, he stepped forward to check the body.
Cassadega held her breath and continued to project two different mental images into the soldier's mind. The first was of a bullet torn, very dead, version of herself, while the second was a compulsion 'not to see' her real body slowly inching past him back to the end of the aisle.
The squad leader came around the far end of the row to see his trooper kneeling in the middle of the empty floor. As he strode forward, his subordinate looked up with tears in his eyes. "You killed her," he whispered. "My only friend in the whole world and you killed her!" The last few words came out as a shout as he emptied his weapon's magazine into his commanding officer.
As the Commander's body fell, Cassadega released her hold on the soldier's mind and put him to sleep. There was no way to make him forget what had been done to him, but she could spare him further misery. She could hear sirens in the distance. It was time for her to go.
Aunt Alecia had lectured Cassadega long ago, that taking control of another's mind was completely unethical and it should never be done for any reason. "But," she continued after she was certain Cassadega understood that point, "If its a choice between breaking a mind or letting innocents die, Querida, a mind can be fixed easier than the dead can be raised."
Royals Books and Music's Talos Island store was one of Cassadega's favorite places. Although it was fundamentally the same as the three other Paragon City locations, with the same selection of books and CDs and popular movies, Talos had one feature the others didn't...
Dave the Barista.
Dave was unremarkable in many different ways. He wasn't handsome but he wasn't ugly either. His thinning hair was an unimpressive shade of brown with streaks of grey. His eyes were an indecisive shade of brown, and his voice was just barely, not quite, monotone. Yet, despite all this, Dave had one quality that elevated him to a near Godlike status in Cassadega's eyes...
He was a genius with coffee.
With just the simplest of descriptions, Dave could make any coffee based drink in existance. He knew brewing times to the microsecond, understood which grind would be perfect for any situation, could judge water temperature by sight, and could, unerringly, remember customers' orders back to the first time they entered the building. Once he learned a regular's favorites, he could have one ready and in their hands in moments.
"Venti Quad Espresso, whole milk, ten sugars. Here you are Cass."
"Thank you, Dave, " She said as she handed him fifteen dollars and waved off the change.
Yes he was a genius. Quite a fair amount of her own tips made their way into his tip jar. She was determined to keep him right where she could find him.
Royals: Talos also had the advantage of being just a few blocks from her own apartment. Although she grew up in King's Row, she had moved over to Talos to get some distance from her family. She loved the old neighborhood but it was hard growing up surrounded by the cousins, and neighbors, and friends of friends of friends, that all combined into a massive interconnected clan. In the Neighborhood, privacy was something that happened to someone else; and when you were thirteen years old and able to hear the thoughts and feel the emotions of everyone within a hundred yards, it was too much to bear.
It was Grand Aunt Alecia that came to her rescue. Around the Neighborhood, Aunt Alecia was simply, 'La Bruja'. A witch from the old country. She had emigrated from southern Spain in the late 1950's and set up a small shop in Kings row. From there she had quietly raised her family and watched over the Neighborhood. She was the first person to recognize Cassadega's gifts and her first teacher. She taught Cassadega how to build a wall around her mind, and how to use her gifts to heal, guide, defend and, if necessary, to kill.
Aunt Alecia introduced Cassadega to other women. All of them were from the old country but they came from different places and different traditions. They all had something to teach her. Herbalism and Spiritualism, the Names of the Powers and the Forces, the forms of Ritual Magic, and the art of conjuring. Along with these lessons came generations of wisdom and advice, as well as a few more... esoteric skills.
Cassadega was part way through page 76 in her new copy of "The Sun Fell Down" when a very unwelcome thought brushed across her mind. She glanced over the top of her book to see five heavily armed men in gray uniforms step through the glass doors at the front of the store.
"Citizens, your attention please, " boomed the lead figure as the other four spread out behind him. "You have been given the rare opportunity to assist The Council in our ongoing struggle to bring a New Order to the World. My associates will be moving among you and collecting your cash and valuables. If you cooperate fully, you will be rewarded with knowing that you made our rise to power possible that much sooner." The assault rifles in their hands made it very clear what would happen if someone didn't cooperate.
The Council. A group dedicated to a total Fascist nation who, to a man, failed to realize that any hope for their 'New World Order' died in the 1940's. They were always armed and fanatical and, sadly, consistently able to recruit new soldiers from the idealistic and disaffected. They were a plague in the Neighborhood when Cassadega was growing up. She didn't hold any love for them now.
Cassadega marked her place in her book and slowly rose to her feet. She was badly outnumbered but she had a trick or two that would help even the odds. The only problem was that she had to get everyone paying attention to her. Being the center of attention was nothing new, but most of her audiences weren't homicidal.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, " she began, pitching her voice into the familiar ringmaster cadence that she opened her shows with, "As you can see we have a special treat today. It appears that the cast of 'Springtime for Hitler' has joined us today." Her hands started moving through a basic juggling pattern, small balls of light flared to life in her palms and spun into motion. She needed all of them looking at her. Time for some flash.
"I've heard its a good show, but you know, you really should look into firing your costume designer. Those outfits don't do anything for you at all." The lights shifted into more intricate patterns, weaving in and out, back and forth, hypnotically.
"And your casting leaves a bit to be desired. Paragon deserves better than roadshow Nazis..."
Five rifles snapped to shoulders, time was up.
Cassadega's hands flew out to her sides scattering the 'balls' that she had been juggling. At the same time she sent a strong mental command to every mind in the building.
Sleep.
The customers and staff fell unconscious to the ground instantly. They had no resistance to this sort of thing. She could see that she had tagged three of the council soldiers as well, increasing her odds to 2 to 1. Better, but not great. It was their move now.
The squad leader and his remaining soldier both opened fire at full auto. Assault rifles were loud and could spit out lead bullets at the horrifying rate of up to 600 per minute. This fact was strong motivation for Cassadega as she dove to her left and out of the line of fire. She knew she hadn't gone unnoticed as part of the 'Classic Mystery' section shredded behind her. She wasn't hurt yet but she couldn't let this go on for too long.
She scrambled down the aisle past the blasted remnants of Christie and Conan Doyle. The firing had stopped and Cassadega was thankful that they were at least professional thugs. They wouldn't waste ammunition firing blind. That gave her a few seconds grace.
Where is Statesman when you need him? Or Manticore, or even Fusionette for pete's sake? This is their job.
She could sense that the soldiers had split up. They were most likely coming around each end of the aisle to trap her in a crossfire. Since the aisle ran halfway across the store, she knew that there would be a hole in their timing. The soldier coming to the end closest to the coffeshop would arrive first.
Cassadega stopped moving and dropped bonelessly to the ground. She focused her attention on that end of the aisle, if she could just make eye contact for a moment...
The soldier rounded the aisle, leading with his rifle's barrel. His gaze landed on a body lying in a slowly spreading pool of blood on the floor. It was the dark skinned woman that dared defy them. He could see that she had been hit in multiple places and was as good as dead unless she received immediate medical treatment. Since his standing orders included confirming any and all combat kills, he stepped forward to check the body.
Cassadega held her breath and continued to project two different mental images into the soldier's mind. The first was of a bullet torn, very dead, version of herself, while the second was a compulsion 'not to see' her real body slowly inching past him back to the end of the aisle.
The squad leader came around the far end of the row to see his trooper kneeling in the middle of the empty floor. As he strode forward, his subordinate looked up with tears in his eyes. "You killed her," he whispered. "My only friend in the whole world and you killed her!" The last few words came out as a shout as he emptied his weapon's magazine into his commanding officer.
As the Commander's body fell, Cassadega released her hold on the soldier's mind and put him to sleep. There was no way to make him forget what had been done to him, but she could spare him further misery. She could hear sirens in the distance. It was time for her to go.
Aunt Alecia had lectured Cassadega long ago, that taking control of another's mind was completely unethical and it should never be done for any reason. "But," she continued after she was certain Cassadega understood that point, "If its a choice between breaking a mind or letting innocents die, Querida, a mind can be fixed easier than the dead can be raised."
Writer of In-Game fiction: Just Completed: My Summer Vacation. My older things are now being archived at Fanfiction.net http://www.fanfiction.net/~jwbullfrog until I come up with a better solution.