Iris
(This story is the follow-up to the three part 'Majorette'
series.)
Chapter 1: Out of Sorts
Brandon Shay sat in front of a computer, staring at articles
for the school newspaper. His eyes were tired, and he simply couldn't bring his
mind to focus on the task at hand. He ran his fingers through his black hair,
laced them behind his head, and leaned back in the creaky office chair. He
stared at the acoustic tiles of the drop ceiling.
He had the unfortunate task of editing an article on a
double homicide of two students. In the last four months, three students had
died at Marshal High, the latest being Mike Mazzy's suicide. At least there was
the positive effect of that tragedy, in that the school now had a GSA… a
Gay/Straight Alliance, support group for the Gay/Bi/Lesbian/Trans youth of the
school.
The irony was not wasted on him that of the two students
who'd been murdered at the beginning of the year, Andrea Thomas was an open
lesbian, and the other, Michael Dickinson, was widely considered gay by
classmates. Investigation so far hadn't revealed any link between the homicide
and their sexual orientation, though.
He had attended the first two meetings of the GSA. It did
nothing for him, and he found that his only interest in going was possibly finding
some cute guy to hit on. That made him feel a little sick, so he simply decided
not to attend.
He was stuck doing circles in his head, remembering one
night with a very special young man. Sure, it had just been pizza and making
out, but it had been magic. Brandon hated to admit that he'd waited for months
to work up the courage to ask Glen out, only to have him stolen away by… that
girl.
Glen hadn't turned hetero or anything. He'd done something
much worse. He'd managed to go through gender reassignment. God, how that ate
at Brandon; to finally work up the courage to ask out this cute guy, then have
him transition two days later!
Since then, Brandon knew he'd been in a pretty heavy funk,
and nothing had pulled him out of it.
He finally got up and left the journalism room, headed to
his locker, and got his pool stuff. He walked down to the first floor, across
the courtyard to the gym, and into the locker room.
There were other guys in the room, getting ready to use the
pool, or coming in from football practice. Keith Patterson walked out of the
showers, giving Brandon the evil eye.
"Keep your eyes to yourself, Brandon," he said in
sour tones.
"Oh, fuck off Keith. I'm looking for a REAL man,"
he threw back saucily.
"Fucking queer!" the football player returned.
"What the hell is with you? You hung out with Mike for
years! It's shit like what you're saying that made him kill himself. Do you
feel good about that?" Brandon was getting pissed.
"Better dead than a cock sucking faggot!" Keith
took a few steps forward menacingly.
"Hey, shit-head, do you remember what happened to your
last target? Do you really want me to call Gloria down here to wipe up the
floor with you?" Brandon wanted to be mad, but the cowed look on Keith's
face was too amusing.
Gloria. Damn…
Brandon slid into his speedos, strapped his goggles around
his head and walked off to the pool. There was no swim practice this evening,
but sometimes Brandon just swam to work off frustration. Being in the water,
feeling it move across his skin, was one of the few joys in his life.
He moved to a starting block, and dunked his goggles. He
drained the water and placed them over his eyes, pushing until they were stuck
in place with suction. His graceful fluid form dove into the water with a minimum
of splash. He cut through the water smoothly, fluttering his legs behind him.
When he finally broke the surface, he started into a breaststroke, taking care
to keep good form. He swam sixteen laps before climbing out of the water. He
swept his hair back and pulled off his goggles, heading back to the locker
room.
He showered, never looking at the other folks in the open
shower with him. He just didn't feel like scoping anyone out. Then he dressed
and headed over to the gym. The cheerleaders were just finishing. He watched
Lisa Cross as she packed her pom-poms into a duffel bag.
"Hey Lisa!" he yelled, waiving.
"Hey cutie! What's shakin'?" she asked, her normal
exuberant self.
"Nadda. Just did some laps. My head's all messed up,
and I can't stop thinking about… well, about all sorts of stuff. The three kids
that died… Glen and Gloria," he admitted.
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Brandon, but
Glen is not coming back. You know Gloria's much happier now, even with the
complications of FSHA." She looked him in the eye, both sympathetic and
resolute.
"Yeah… how's that going for you guys? I haven't gotten
much time to talk to any of you 'Fab Five' since the Future Super-Heroes of
America group got it's sponsorship. I did get to proof the group picture for
the yearbook though," he said with a twinge of sadness to his voice.
"Feeling left out?" she asked sympathetically.
"No," he insisted.
Lisa just looked at him, knowing better.
"Okay. I thought it was kind of cool being in on the
'Burner' action… not that I would have wanted all the shooting. But since then,
you're all so busy, and so secretive." Brandon walked out of the gym with
Lisa, into the cold air of early winter.
Dead leaves rustled, and the sun was already setting.
Brandon felt the biting cold, and zipped up his jacket all the way. Lisa
wrapped her arms around herself, and tried not to freeze in her short skirt.
"Where's Laura?" he finally asked, as he led her
to his waiting Corolla.
"Didn't you hear? She dropped off the squad," Lisa
said.
"Why?" Brandon felt even more out of the know.
"She's…" Lisa stalled. "Crap. I'm not
supposed to talk about it, but she's been having nightmares since she
activated." Lisa looked concerned as she spoke.
Brandon hit the power unlock button, and the two got in the
car simultaneously.
"Nightmares about what?" Brandon felt his
journalist instincts were kicking in.
"She's… She's been dreaming about, well, Armageddon, or
the apocalypse, some horrible cataclysm. She thinks she's seeing the future.
Since she manifested as a precognitive… she's just been, well, very
depressed," she admitted.
"That sucks. Man… There are days when I guess having a
beneficial mutation would really bite. At least one like that. How's your stuff
coming?" He continued his unintentional grilling.
"Pretty good. I mean, I'm a recessive, so I'm never
going to be a powerhouse, but with Ms. Lynn's permission, Talon has us working
once a month with members of Golden Shield as mentors. Stellar has been
teaching me a lot, and giving me lots of new ideas about creative ways to use
my powers." She brightened at the turn of the conversation.
"Do you have a code name, or whatever?" he asked,
somewhat excited.
"Yeah, at least one for the time being. For now, I'm
going by 'Spectra'. It's not great, but it's really hard to find a name that
isn't already taken," she said. "I even have a costume. It isn't
great either. It's a black bodysuit, with white gloves and boots, and this thin
white stripe running up the right leg, splitting to a prism across the belly,
and rejoining to a white stripe as it goes over the left shoulder. Again, not
great, but it'll do for now."
"Oh, man. Don't tell me they got Gerald into
spandex!" Brandon laughed.
"Nope. He wears black pants, a gray pullover shirt, a
black trenchcoat, and combat boots. He did take your name 'Fade' though,"
Lisa informed him.
Brandon looked a little cheerful about this.
"Well, at least I got to contribute something," he
stated.
"Bray… is there anything I can do to cheer you up? I
mean, we haven't been out dancing in a while. Would that help bring you out of
your funk?" she offered.
"Wow… That would be great. Do you have much homework
this evening?" he asked with a glimmer of hope.
"Maybe half an hour's worth. Let me check with the
'rents, to see if it's cool to go out tonight. How 'bout you?" she
returned.
"I'm good. Mom's out of town for the week, and all my
work is clear. I've taken a light load this year to make time for the
newspaper." he explained.
"Coolie. Hang on then." She flipped open a cell
phone to call home.
Chapter 2: Student and Teacher
Alicia Lynn sorted through CDs. Her Aikido class was over,
and only her top student, Gloria Camdon remained behind. Alicia was an
unassuming woman of average frame. Her dark brown hair and brown eyes begged to
be ignored in a crowd. She seemed a nearly indeterminable age, perhaps late
twenties. The only thing anyone ever found striking about her was her presence.
For those who knew her, there was a palpable aura about her. She was the eye of
the storm. She was so very mellow and in control, it simply radiated from her.
This was something that had attracted Gloria to her.
She reflected on recent events. It had only been two months
since Gloria manifested as a paranormal. More accurately, it had only been two
months since Gloria had… well… been Gloria.
She had to admit, while there was now a small group of teens
she worked with, Gloria was her favorite. It was simply a matter of what they
shared in common, and perhaps what she might provide for Gloria as a mentor.
"Gloria, I was wondering about something. Since your
manifestation, you have mastered every kata I've shown you on the first walk
through. How do you do such a thing?" Alicia looked at the teen intently.
"Ms. Lynn… I don't understand the question. I've only
followed what you've shown me," Gloria said, somewhat confused.
"I know. These are not the basic stances that I've
shown you. The Tai Chi and Aikido kata sometimes run many minutes in length.
You simply see it once and step through it. Most people have to train their
bodies to move correctly in such lengthy, complex movements… For instance…
where did you learn gymnastics? The first night you manifested, you were out on
the field doing full tumble routines," Ms. Lynn questioned.
"What? I just do." Gloria broke out laughing.
"I guess I never thought about it. When I'm in uniform, I just act on
reflex. It never occurred to me that I probably never actually learned how to
do the maneuvers." She still giggled.
"Lord…," Alicia thought, "How nice it would
be to feel that alive again."
She allowed a soft smile at Gloria's own self-amusement.
"Well… I have something of a theory on that… and I
thought I'd skip the standard work tonight, and replace it with something
totally different," Ms. Lynn said. She walked into the locker room with
Gloria.
Alicia showered, and was drying off when Gloria walked out
of her shower stall. She rounded a row of lockers where she froze as if in
shock when she saw Ms. Lynn, suddenly diverting her eyes and turning bright
red.
Alicia had never seen such a strong reaction from any youth
at the site of an adult nude. She stopped for a moment pondering the cause.
"Oh, God… Ms. Lynn… I'm sorry…" Gloria stammered.
"Gloria, dear. You're a girl now. You don't have to
feel embarrassed being in here."
Alicia thought she understood the source of Gloria's
feelings. Until a few months ago, Gloria had been named Glen. Gloria's
upraising likely never exposed her to nude female adults. Ms. Lynn thought how uncomfortable
that must have been for Glen… always sharing locker rooms and shower bays with
what was basically the opposite gender… and now to have to readjust to life in
her new role as a young female…
Gloria finally got control of herself, now feeling ashamed
of her initial embarrassment.
"Ms. Lynn, I'm really sorry, I'm all weird now. God…
everything's just changed so quickly. I mean, you should see the looks I get
when I order something at a fast food joint. I still eat like a guy. Not just
like a guy, but that ravenous growth-spurt kind of eating. My enhanced
metabolism just burns major amounts of energy. So I'll be wolfing down like six
burgers, and then realize how wrong it looks. I weigh 125. I'm a size 8. And my
dad and I were throwing a bunch of stuff out from my old room, and at one point
he just got up and left. He walked outside and when I went after him… my mom
told me to just give him some breathing room." Gloria had just burst some
emotional valve, Alicia realized.
"You've had a radical change in your life. Any such
disturbance is going to take time to smooth. Meanwhile… Don't feel foolish. But
I would ask that you get dressed quickly. I have a lot of stuff I'd like to
cover this evening."
They took their separate cars to Ms. Lynn's place, a small
ranch style home in the suburbs. Alicia led Gloria through the modest home. The
décor seemed a mixture of oriental styles, particularly with strong Japanese
influence, very simple and minimalist.
Toward the rear of the house was the second bedroom, which
was something of a tiny entertainment room, with a TV and Game system. Alicia
had a DVD in hand, and stuck it in the extended tray. The menu opened up, and
Gloria realized the DVD had been home made. It seemed to have lists of names
and titles. Alicia just sat down on the futon, and hit play. Gloria joined her
there. The two ladies watched snippets from nearly a dozen martial arts movies.
Alicia had particularly selected movies where the performers intertwined
gymnastic abilities with strong, functional martial arts. During the clips,
Alicia would occasionally explain to Gloria what to look for, and what mistakes
to avoid. It would take Alicia a while to make another DVD from footage of
paranormal martial artists in combat. Such footage was rare, and brief at best.
The average paranormal conflict was only about thirty seconds long. The odds of
catching it on tape were slim.
She finally put on one of Jackie Chan's films, and just let
it play. She leaned back in the futon and squished against a big pillow. Her
legs were stretched out on a coffee table. As the film rolled, Gloria
eventually lay down on the futon, with her head in Alicia's lap.
There was some feeling in her that angered old wounds. She
petted Gloria's hair, trying to hold back pain.
"What's wrong?" Gloria asked. Alicia knew that
Gloria could hear fluctuations in her heartbeat and breathing. The young lady
had incredible sensory acuity.
"Just a painful old memory. I had a… younger sister.
She died in a car accident when I was maybe nineteen. She used to lie against
my leg like this. But please… don't move… not yet," Alicia stated, in a
very controlled voice.
Gloria stayed where she was, content to play some role in
Alicia's life, beyond student. So many things had happened in the recent past,
and Alicia Lynn had been an anchor for her in that time. She felt honored that
Alicia had shown the first glimpse of what laid beneath the placid surface.
Chapter 3: Changing Direction
Gerald Johnson walked from his job at Fast-Burger to his
meager efficiency apartment. As he circled the building toward the back, where
his door awaited, he caught a glimpse of a man sitting on his step. He reached
into his trench coat, and grasped a min-mag flashlight.
He was about to yell at the man to tell him to get off his
steps, when he realized the visitor was no vagrant or random wanderer. He wore
an unassuming suit, and had a short haircut. Gerald took him for some
government type.
"Gerald Johnson?" the man asked as Gerald
approached.
"Yeah, that's me. Who are you supposed to be?"
Gerald asked calmly.
"I'm Agent Miller of the Central Intelligence Agency.
I'm here to talk to you about your future." he stated flatly, showing an
ID.
"Let me get this right… you want ME to work for the
CIA? I find that somewhat amusing. I mean, you ARE aware of my criminal record,
right? I'm also assuming there are a handful of psychological defects clearly
visible in all the psych tests I've been asked to take," Gerald said in a
bitter tone.
"We at the agency are very much aware of your past, Mr.
Johnson. You might be surprised to hear that you are quite balanced and healthy
mentally, especially considering your home environment. You have a unique gift,
Mr. Johnson. We would like you to put it to work for the good of your country.
I assume it would pay more than what you make at Fast-Burger," the agent
returned.
"How does this work, with my involvement in FSHA?"
Gerald asked, pulling a note pad and pencil from his coat pocket. He gestured
for the ID the agent had flashed, and began writing down the information from
it. The agent gave a look of surprise and pleasure.
"Talon is quite aware of our wishing to recruit you.
You can't really join legally until you are an adult, but we can get the ball
rolling now. Please, don't take my word for it. Here's my card. Contact me
after your next FSHA meeting, when you've had time to verify all this."
Agent Miller stood up, stretching a little. He nodded and walked off to the
plain unassuming sedan parked on the street.
Gerald stood for a moment, looking at the card, and watching
the man drive off. He fished in his pockets for his keys, opened the door to
his tiny home, and entered.
Chapter 4: Enthralled
"Well, you've just got to see him for yourself. He is
the hottest piece of man-flesh walking." Lisa almost drooled.
She and Brandon drove to 'The BIG City', Columbus.
Zanesville didn't have any good dance clubs, especially ones where minors could
get in. Columbus however, had some decent clubs where on non-peak nights, they
had all age's shows. Tuesdays. Ya gotta love 'em!
Brandon wore tight leather pants, with a long sleeve fishnet
shirt. He was tricked out in Goth makeup, and had spiked his hair slightly.
Best of all, he had pale blue contacts that reacted under black light, making
his eyes glow. Lisa thought he looked cute, even with black lipstick. God,
sometimes she wished he was straight. He had the tightest body! She almost
laughed at herself.
She wore knee-high black vinyl boots with 4" platform
heels and chrome bindings. With it she had a black vinyl miniskirt. Her top was
an open midriff magenta number. It was an off the shoulder style with long
sleeves. She also wore a magenta wig. She accentuated the outfit with chain
suspenders, belt and bracelet.
The two found a reasonably good parking spot, and trotted
quickly from the warm car to the club. Once inside, they would be warm enough,
but club-wear was not made to insulate against the winter.
Lisa led the way into the dark dance club. The band hadn't
yet taken stage, and the dance music was still going. Strobes flashed, and
lights spun, as the music thumped. It was a dance mix, with a techno flair. The
place had a good crowd, but was far from packed. The two danced through four
numbers before getting sodas.
Brandon eventually noticed a man at the end of the bar,
looking very out of place in a business suit. He held what looked like a
palmtop computer, staring at it intently. Probably some idiot yuppy out for a
drink, he thought.
Brandon scanned the room for any hot guys throwing off the
vibe. There were two androgynous gothy boys that he approached. Unfortunately,
on closer evaluation, they were both with girls, and not in the way that he was
with Lisa. He caught site of his friend making her way through the crowd. It
seemed she had several guys hitting on her. He smiled, with mixed feelings
about her success. He was happy for her success, but it pissed him off that his
odds of finding someone were slim unless he was in a gay bar, or some other
gay-friendly establishment. Maybe he could talk her into going to a coffee shop
he knew after the show. There was this great place where all the cute gay boys
hung out. Mmmm.
He was in the middle of explaining his contacts to some girl
when he noticed the crowd had gone from being comfortable to being a crush.
People were packing in now. Moreover, it didn't take him long to see that most
of the crowd that congregated were girls. Just what he needed… more
competition!
The lights on the dance floor stopped their twirling and the
music faded. On the front stage the ancient looking, tattered curtains parted
revealing mist. A techno beat came from a synthesizer, followed by a screaming
guitar, and suddenly, the lights spotted the stage, revealing what Brandon had
to agree was the hottest piece of man-flesh walking. The thin yet muscular form
of the lead singer was very clear. He wore only a skintight black tank top, and
pants that appeared to be literally painted-on latex.
The rhythmic bouncing of the patrons stopped. They stood
enthralled by the performance. He had never felt the kind of want he felt for
the singer. He could barely concentrate on the music over the strong images in
his mind of ravaging that perfect body. He wanted to lick every square inch of
him. He wanted to do a lot more than that!
Had Brandon not been so caught up in his own fantasies, he
might have noticed the man from the bar move in behind Lisa, give a hand
gesture to the stage, then move away.
Brandon wasn't sure how long the music went on, but when the
curtains finally closed, he had the distinct feeling like some part of him was
dying. Maybe he'd gone too long without a boyfriend, or maybe it was just the
growing urges of puberty, but he wanted that man like nothing he'd ever wanted
in his life. It almost made him salivate.
Brandon blinked, trying hard to refocus, and realized he was
incredibly thirsty. He looked around for Lisa, finally seeing a glimpse of her
as she stepped through a side door out of the main dance room. He slid through
the crowd, squirming through the tight mob of bodies. Several girls in the
crowd made pleasant squeals as he brushed past them. If he were straight, he'd
be getting some for sure, he thought to himself. He finally broke out of the
crowd, near the door. It was marked with a single word, 'Private'.
The hell with that! Lisa wasn't going to get a face to face
meeting with that Sex God without him! He pushed against the door and quietly
stepped through into the short, dark hallway. At the far end, he could see dim
light leaking from under a door. Faint voices could be heard.
"She'll have to do for now," one voice said.
"She doesn't even break 2.7," a sensual male voice
replied.
"You know this should fix that problem," the first
argued.
"I'd rather not even disturb him, just for this,"
the sexy voice again replied.
Brandon knew they were talking about Lisa, but didn't
understand what they were going on about. He had a sick feeling that they were
talking about using her as some kind of sex slave. He reached into his boot and
retrieved a butterfly knife. Any smart gay boy knows better than to go out
clubbing unarmed. He kicked through the door dramatically, flicking open the
knife as menacingly as he could.
Inside was the man that he'd seen at the bar, the lead
singer guy, and Lisa. On seeing the lead singer, Brandon was again nearly
paralyzed with the feeling of want. He stood for a moment, transfixed, then
snapped out of it.
"Let her go!" he demanded of the man holding Lisa.
The man simply held up both hands, showing how he was in no way restraining
her. Brandon turned his angry gaze on the young singer. He felt his heart
flutter.
"Are you a friend of the young lady? We were just
talking with her. She seemed to enjoy the show. I like talking to my fans.
She's seen the band before. How 'bout you?"
The purity of the blue in his eyes made Brandon tingle. He
blushed in response to this man speaking to him. It was like being recognized
by the Gods.
"Umm… Yeah. You were SO hot out there," Brandon
found himself admitting.
The sexy man held an odd look for a split second, then
smiled deviously and stepped toward Brandon. He gently removed the knife from
his hand and set it on a nearby table. He pressed lightly against Brandon,
inches from his face.
"People call me Eros. What should I call you?" he
asked, locking gazes with Brandon.
"I'm Brandon. Brandon Shay," he said, in a breathy
whisper. Eros threw a glance at the other man in the room, who began typing
quickly on the palmtop computer.
"And this is your friend, Lisa?" he asked in a
soft, comforting tone.
"Oh-huh." Brandon found himself feeling all coy,
and bit his lower lip.
"Please, won't the two of you have a seat?" Eros
offered. Lisa and Brandon both sat on the comfortable, if somewhat ratty sofa.
"Eros. This girl is FSHA in Z-town. And the boy… well,
here, take a look," the suit said, handing over the computer.
"Well, we can't use her then. It'd get back to Golden
Shield. What about HIM?" Eros motioned over his shoulder to Brandon.
"With the correct modifications…," the suited man
said, looking squarely at Eros.
"Okay then, let's see what we can arrange. Brandon, do
you want me?" Eros asked, point-blank.
"Yes, more than anything." Brandon found himself
again admitting honestly.
"Well… I have to be honest with you. I'm not a
boy-on-boy kind of guy, but we could, you know, give you a little change that
would make you much more appealing to me. And for that, all we want is one
little favor from you. What do you say?" Eros smirked snidely over his
shoulder.
"Anything. Anything you want." Brandon spoke the
words, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear warning bells going
off. What 'little change'? Please God, not a Gloria Camdon little change.
In his head, he could feel a barrier crumble. No… NO! He
wasn't sure how, but he'd been messed with. This guy was using some old Jedi
mind-trick on him. More accurately, he was being led around by his dick. Still,
try as he might, while he could think such things, he found it difficult to
articulate them, and especially difficult to displease the master before him.
"Great. Lisa, it's time for you to go. Here hon, have
my latest CD. You go dance and have fun. Brandon and I have some talking to
do." He patted Lisa's shoulder and kissed her cheek on her way out."
"I… I can't let you do this to me…," Brandon
managed.
Eros looked a bit surprised.
"Wow. You broke my thrall. That's rare. It doesn't
really matter. We need an… assistant, and time is running out. You are going to
do something for us. If not, we will get your cute friend in there to do it for
us."
"And what if we don't?" Brandon managed a spark of
defiance.
"Oh, she WILL do it, trust me. I have her completely.
Tell me, what was it that shocked you out of the hold? It had to be something
pretty major," Eros chatted lightly.
"I will never submit to being turned into a female.
Let's say I have fresh wounds concerning that." Brandon locked a cold gaze
at his captor.
"Leon… how much longer for the rewrite codes?"
Eros looked at the man in the suit.
Leon in turn looked at the palm-top.
"Two minutes. We need a base for a T-splice. That's the
big guy's orders," he said flatly.
"Be right back…" Eros smiled and walked out of the
room. Leon casually slid a small automatic pistol from his jacket, and began to
attach what looked like a silencer to the muzzle.
"How 'bout you just stay cool while he does his
business?" Leon looked Brandon in the eyes.
Eros returned, handing a few strands of hair to Leon, who
walked to a laptop computer on a desk in the corner. He stuffed the hairs into
a small peripheral device, and pressed a button.
"Make sure you correct Dom before you create the
T-splice with that. No sense in getting a lacky that doesn't even rate 3,"
Eros reminded his associate.
"Way ahead of you, kid. Well… that's it. Here we
go." Leon watched as the small piece of hardware attached to the laptop
dripped saline solution into a vacuum tube.
He shook the contents, and loaded the vial into an airgun.
With a pistol in one hand, and the injector in the other, he moved to Brandon.
A moment of pain, like a bee sting, was all Brandon felt.
"There you go. Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Eros spoke like a nurse at a children's hospital.
"Now, we expect you back here tomorrow night at 7PM
sharp. We have work to do, dear boy." Eros touched Brandon's cheek
lightly, and gestured to the exit.
Once Brandon left, Eros typed on the keyboard, and opened a
telecom window.
"Did you inject the virus as ordered?" The voice
came from the small speakers of the laptop. Even with the small source, the
voice was deep and menacing.
"Sure did. We also hit the other subject with the
airborne change you requested. We won't know if those changes took hold unless
we tail her." Eros rattled off quickly.
"Don't worry. I'm sure it will work." The voice
returned.
…
"God, I love that band. What did you think? Wasn't that
guy the sexiest man alive?" Lisa raved as she drove.
"Yes, I must admit he was one sexy mofo. Could you turn
on the headlights, please?" Brandon held the passenger armrest in
distress.
"Oh, thanks. With my eyes the way they are, I sometimes
forget that other folks can't see. Sorry," she said sweetly.
"Well, it's also the law, you know," Brandon
returned nervously.
"I was kind of hoping that the trip to the club would
make you feel better. I mean, we even got to meet the lead singer, and you
still seem all stressed out. What's wrong?" she grilled.
"Nothing. Don't worry about it," he said, feeling
miserable. She seemed to remember meeting Eros, but didn't remember anything
negative. That disturbed Brandon deeply.
Brandon spent the whole car ride home waiting for the
crushing pain in his testes that Gloria had described to him. He fought back
tears, thinking of turning into a girl. He hated the thought of it. It scared
the living hell out of him. He had no idea what would happen when the rewrite
virus was complete.
Chapter 5: Moments of Transition
By the time Brandon got home, it was past mid-night. The
cold air ran a wicked chill through him as he made his way into the house. He
had nearly convinced himself that none of the stuff in the club's back room
actually happened. Almost, but he knew better.
They'd said they couldn't use Lisa, because Golden Shield
would find out. He wondered what Eros' 'little favor' would be. He knew when he
found out he wasn't going to like it one bit. He stripped for bed, and removed
his goth makeup with cold cream. He realized he was sweating profusely and felt
sick and weak. It was beginning. Whatever they'd injected him with was starting
its rewrite.
He crawled into bed and lay staring into the darkness,
waiting for the crushing pain of the rewrite. Even through the stress and fear,
he eventually drifted off to sleep.
His alarm sounded at 6 AM, and Brandon jumped into his
normal morning routine. He was in the shower before he realized what had
happened the night before. He checked himself thoroughly, relieved to find no
obvious change. He breathed a deep sigh. He actually felt great.
As he made toast, he noticed the first odd sensation. His
hands had a shaky or numb feeling to them. He rubbed his fingers against his
palms and went about eating breakfast. Most of the way through his melted
peanut butter on toast sandwich, he felt the odd feeling creeping all over him.
He walked into the dark living room, to sit down. His hand brushed the light
switch, and the lamp in the living room flicked on. In the moment that its
light flooded the room, Brandon felt as though he was suddenly compressed from
all directions, and a bright burst of light erupted. He fell flat on his butt,
blinking to get the spots from his eyes.
He felt very disoriented for a moment. He found standing
difficult, and the room was now at a different perspective. He looked down at
his fingers. His hands looked different. Even through his now-baggy shirt, he
could see bumps… unmistakable breasts. He turned to run to the bathroom, and
fell, tangled in the legs of the pants, now too long for him. There on all
fours, Brandon burst into tears. It had happened.
He slowly regained his footing, moving carefully to the
bathroom to get a look at the horror that awaited him. What he saw when he
looked in the mirror took a moment to comprehend. He saw Lisa Cross looking at
him. She was wearing his cloths and had his haircut, but it was definitely her.
The sense that someone was playing a practical joke lasted only a moment. He
was now an exact duplicate of her.
He thought back. Something about a T-splice. Eros had walked
off, coming back with strands of hair. It must have been from Lisa. They had
somehow inserted her entire genome into his own. He looked at his left arm,
checking for a scar Lisa had from childhood. It wasn't there. He was not
identical to her, only a genetic duplicate. He slumped his petite cheerleader
body against the wall. He wanted to cry, but he felt numb.
His brain wanted to refuse the reality of his situation. He
felt trapped. His thoughts whirled, trying to find a way out of this mess. He
wanted to be anywhere but here, atop a reclusive mountain, away from the rest
of the world.
His mind visualized the place, a beautiful peak in the
Rockies. There was another burst of light. The world blurred, and when his head
finally cleared, he stood in the bitter whipping wind, looking down from a
majestic mountain peak.
What the hell was going on? Had he really transported here?
The winter wind felt real enough. His eyes drank in the light. He could see a
lodge some forty miles away, with the perfect clarity that Lisa described. He
tried to concentrate, to focus his desire. The world shifted again, and he
stood at the steps of the lodge. He could teleport!
Brandon thought for a moment. Lisa couldn't teleport. Why
could he? Maybe it wasn't teleportation. Maybe it was something else. If her
powers were light based, and if she were more powerful, she might be able to
move at the speed of light, somehow turning herself into a burst of photons.
Well then… He concentrated on his home again. A blink of roads, signs, and
houses flashed before him, almost subliminally, before he again reappeared in
his living room.
He was exhausted. He felt a weird sensation crawl over him,
and watched the skin of his arm as it darkened over a second or so to an utter
pitch black. He felt an odd hunger, and ran to the bathroom, turning on all the
lights. The heat lamp over the shower was particularly 'nourishing'. He sat in
the shower, drinking in energy. In his exhaustion, he fell asleep.
…
Brandon woke up in the shower, cramped, stiff, and
disoriented. He pulled himself out of the stall, and rolled his neck, hoping to
work the kink out of it. He glanced in the mirror. Everything looked normal. He
was a boy. He was as certain as he could be that what he'd remembered actually
happened. This meant that somewhere in his mind was a mental tripwire that
caused a transformation into his 'Lisa' form. Somewhere else was one that
turned him back. He would definitely need to get those switches under control.
He went back to the living room, this time not reaching for
the light. The light… His first transformation had occurred after a radical
light shift. Something that simple could spontaneously activate a paranormal?
That was scary!
He concentrated, fumbling in the dark recesses of his mind
for a mental switch. He thought about light, lightswitches, fireworks, camera
flashes…
Another burst of light flooded the room, and Brandon knew
from the sensation that he was now in his 'Lisa' form. He felt horrible about
the theft of her identity. He needed another name for it, himself in female
form… whatever.
'Lisa'… 'L'. 'Elle?'
It'd do until something better came along. Elle climbed from
the couch, to go to his… her computer. He (DAMMIT!) She got up to move, and
stopped. Something was going to have to be done about the clothing issue. Not
to mention, there was still a simple function of the paranormal power he/she
needed to figure out. Namely, how to transform back to Brandon.
Elle focussed on her male form. Nothing. She imagined a lightbulb
burning out. She imagined a void of darkness. Another burst of light filled the
living room. Brandon felt his normal body. He sighed with great relief. He
could live with being in a female form, assuming he had the option to return to
his normal body at will. Maybe this wouldn't suck nearly so bad as he'd
thought.
He concentrated, and instantly returned to being Elle. She
furrowed her brow, focussing, and again transformed. Okay, enough with flicking
that switch. Brandon felt comfortable that it was now under his conscious
control.
Next? Clothes for the Elle form. He was getting a rug burn
from the jeans he wore as he switched body sizes. He wouldn't need much. He
didn't intend on spending much time in the femme form. Not at all, if he could
help it.
He went to his computer, and booted it up. Glancing at his
watch, he realized he was late for school. Shit!
He hastily dialed the office of the school.
"Marshal High. This is Miss Brooks. May I help
you?" the pleasant voice answered.
"Miss Brooks, this is Brandon Shay. I'm ill and can't
make it in today," he said, trying to sound as under the weather as
possible.
"All right dear. You get well, and hopefully we'll see
you tomorrow. I'll pass this on to attendance," Ms. Brooks said in her
professional voice.
Well, there went the year's perfect attendance record! He
sighed, realizing that an attendance record seemed a silly thing to worry about
on the morning you wake up with paranormal abilities.
He turned to the computer, and began searching the internet
for places that created costumes for paranormals. He knew they existed. It took
about ten minutes of filtering out porn sites to find a legitimate costume
maker. They offered a wide variety of styles, custom made, with various kinds
of material available. Brandon realized between superheroes, professional
wrestlers, rock stars, and fetishists, there was a HUGE demand for this kind of
business.
Lisa wore size six shoes, he was pretty sure. She was a … he
thought she was a size six in clothing as well. He typed information onto the
screen, selecting options. The basic outfit in spandex, with any choice of
color scheme was four hundred dollars, not including accessories. Not bad. He
had about a thousand in savings. He could get a couple extra niceties. For an
extra two hundred, a costume could be made that would fit a person of variable
size, up to an extent.
He finally considered what he knew of Lisa's powers, and
what his would likely end up being. It would be along the lines of the
electromagnetic spectrum. Thinking about Lisa's description of the defracted lightbeam,
Brandon decided to create a costume with the entire spectrum radiating from a
central point. He also selected an extra item, a set of mirror finish
wrap-around sunglasses, with a special coating that made them split light like
a CD. Depending on the angle you saw them at, they could reflect any color. He
was happy with the outfit, and paused.
Now for the name… He went through an online database of hero
names, sorting through the massive list. Lisa was right. Every good name for
light effects was already taken. The best Brandon could think of was 'footcandle',
a name certain to get him laughed out of the paranormal community.
Then he changed his thinking strategy. Eros… wasn't that a
name from mythology? He pulled out his book on Greek Mythology by Edith Hamilton.
Eros, see Cupid….
The first reference under Cupid was on page 38, 'The Lesser
Gods of Olympus'….
"In the early accounts Eros was not Aphrodite's son,
but merely her occasional companion. In the later poets he was her son and
almost invariably a mischievous, naughty boy, or worse. 'Evil his heart, but
honey-sweet his tongue. No truth in him, the rogue. He is cruel in his
play'." Brandon laughed. The guy had picked his name well.
His eyes caught the word 'rainbow' on the opposing page. He
read the passage…
"Iris was the Goddess of the Rainbow and a messenger of
the gods, in the Iliad the only messenger. Hermes appears first in that
capacity in the Odyssey, but he does not take Iris' place. Now the one, now the
other is called upon by the gods."
Brandon closed the book, sliding it back on the shelf. He
was more than satisfied. He typed in the name 'Iris' in the hero name database.
No entries found. Out of sick curiosity, he tried 'Aphrodite'. Three entries
appeared. The first Aphrodite was a member of an organization back in the
forties in Detroit. The second one died eight years ago. She'd been a member of
a European group. The third was a secure record, posted a few months ago. The
date of the entry seemed familiar.
He closed his eyes, letting his brain relax. His eyes
snapped back open, and he typed furiously, checking an article in the local
newspapers' online archive. "Felon suspects, 'Vandals' taken into
custody". It was filed the same night Majorette made her debut. The girl
that was captured must be going by the name of Aphrodite. The record was
probably sealed pending trial, or because she was a legal minor. Damn, if only
Brandon knew a hacker. Alas, he didn't. He was sure one of the 'Fab Five' knew
someone at Golden Shield with that kind of ability.
If he had someone to bounce ideas off of, he might be able
to come up with something. Unfortunately, the brightest guy he knew was another
of the FSHAkids, Steve Andrews. Where did that leave him?
He dropped the line of thought. He added one last detail to
the costume order. Along with the full spectrum color fade, he placed a black
spot at the center of the spread, which would radiate from the left breast,
over the heart, then sent in the order for the costume. He took a brief moment,
basking in his own clever thinking. The black spot represented the pupil of the
eye, which was surrounded by an iris. He spent an extra fifty on express
service. It would be ready in two hours. Nice. He took note of the address. It
was in Cleveland. He started to panic, then remembered long distance travel was
no longer a problem.
…
Lisa Cross woke up feeling utterly like hell warmed up. She
lay on her side, staring into the pitch darkness. At first, this didn't bother
her, but soon she began to distress. She was NEVER in total darkness. Since
puberty, her eyesight had been so acute that she could read a book by
starlight. Once she was taken into a cavern, where not even UV light fell. Even
in the absence of that, she could see the infrared radiated by the other people
on the tour. She could even see nuances of air temperature.
This was the first time in more than five years that she saw
nothing. She waited, and realized she actually could see the faintest hints of
light. She felt along the edge of her bed, across the wall, and found the lightswitch.
When she flicked it on, she suddenly felt a screaming pain behind her eyes, as
they tried to adjust to the change.
She had a brief moment of panic. What had happened? Her eyes
painfully adjusted, and Lisa realized her beneficial mutation had shut down. It
had taken her more than a year to get used to the changes the first time. Now,
having that part of her taken away was like having a limb cut off.
Something weird was going on. Maybe she was just sick, and
her body shut down her abilities to conserve energy or something. She went on
with her morning routine, without her normal perky attitude.
As she worked with her hair and makeup, she felt a sharp
pain in her head. The room seemed to brighten for a moment. It seemed that for
a second, she could hear echoes in her mind. Another mental voice fought for
space. The effect lasted only a moment, and finally, everything seemed normal
again. As normal as things ever get for a seventeen-year-old activated
paranormal.
She focussed for a moment, and a burst of light popped a few
feet from her vanity. She smiled and relaxed. Things were all right. She
wouldn't have to explain anything this evening at the FSHA meeting.
Chapter 6: Marshal High
Keith Patterson sat in study hall staring at his hands. He
was mad. He'd been mad for months. His best friend was dead. That had been like
a kick in the head to him. Mike Mazzy had been just amazing amounts of fun. The
two had gone to ball games together since they were in the third grade. He
missed his friend.
He knew the note Mike left was not bullshit. He knew Mike
had been hiding something. He had no idea that it was being gay. The two of
them used to torment a couple of the fruity kids mercilessly. Keith had done it
just for fun, but Mike had some real issue with these kids. Eric Kingsley said
that Mike had put some moves on him the night before he killed himself.
Keith just felt his anger rising. He couldn't let the pain
out. He wanted to cry, but that just made him angrier. He wanted Mike back, fag
or not. Keith didn't really care what someone did, as long as they didn't mess
with him.
The thing that made him most pissed was the way he'd acted
last night after football practice. He'd snapped at Brandon, pulling the fag
card again. Now he sat pondering the reaction to such abuse. Would Brandon flip
and kill himself as well? Keith felt sick with guilt, wondering if he'd
contributed to another person's death.
He finally excused himself, and headed for the office. He
needed to talk to a guidance councilor. This would be a first.
On his way, he walked past a study room. Inside he caught a
glimpse of Gloria Camdon and Lisa Cross. He stopped in his tracks. He stood
there, unable to move. He knew he should go talk to Gloria. Guilt weighed
heavily on him, but his feet wouldn't respond.
Gloria walked to the door, opening it wide, and looked at
Keith standing there. He expected something harsh to come out of her mouth.
"Is everything all right, Keith?" She asked. She
seemed genuinely concerned. He couldn't speak. His heart was pounding in his
chest.
"Gloria…," he began, not knowing how to continue.
"Yes, Keith?" She watched him as he nearly broke
out sweating.
"Look… I'm sorry for all the shit I put you through
when you were Glen." He looked at the floor. "I've been really bummed
out since Mike died, and I guess… I kind of feel responsible for it, in a
way." He managed to look up, meeting Gloria's eyes.
"Come in here and sit down," Gloria said softly,
gesturing into the room.
He dropped his books on the table, and sat next to Lisa. She
sniffled slightly, and wiped her nose, watching him with a perplexed expression
on her face. She was still feeling a bit sick.
"Did you come all the way from whatever class you were
in to tell me that?" Gloria asked, equally perplexed.
"No. I ran into Brandon Shay last night in the locker
room. I started giving him shit about being gay. It was reflex. Now… I'm
sitting here thinking he might do what Mike did. I was headed for the office. I
just needed to talk to someone. Then, I saw you. I needed to… I needed to tell
you how sorry I am for all the shit I've given you in the last three
years," he spoke. "I guess that's everything… " He stood up,
looking at the two girls, and headed down the hall toward the office. Gloria
sat dumbfounded.
Lisa wiped at her runny nose, and smiled.
"Bet you didn't see that coming!" she said
brightly.
…
Laura Sanders lay half asleep at her desk. It was sixth
period, and she felt utterly horrible. Along with the insomnia she had suffered
in the last couple months, she was sure she was running a fever now as well.
In her dream, she walked over rubble. The buildings around
her were broken and vacant. As it often is in dreams, things were not the way
they normally were. She had been standing downtown, and now, here in front of
her was the high school. The sun was setting, casting jagged shadows from the
broken building. She watched the warm red glow of the setting sun.
Suddenly she could hear something echoing from the ruins of
the school, and without warning, a swarm of bats burst out of a broken window,
creating a living cyclone. The high, piercing screams grew to fevered pitch,
and she suddenly snapped back to the waking world.
"Shit," she said, louder than she intended.
Several other students looked at her with odd expressions.
A few were snickering. The teacher watched her with disdain.
"Miss Sanders, it's bad enough that you sleep in class,
but these sorts of disturbance will not be tolerated," he said with authority.
She ignored him, moving for the door. She felt something
very odd, like a mounting sense of tension. It felt to her like reality was
about to go 'pop'.
"Miss Sanders. Sit down!" Mr. Wilson demanded.
She pushed through the door, and retrieved her cell phone.
She took her eye off the vacant hall long enough to hit the speed dial button
for Gloria's FSHA pager.
She reached the stair well and stopped. She could feel an
odd fear. The ghost of sounds from her dream came back. The high pitched
screech of bats sent a shiver down her spine. Her nipples grew erect from the
chill, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
Laura had only reacted precognitively to very powerful
emotional events while awake. Death, birth, and massive levels of fear had triggered
her visions. This one… this one she didn't understand.
She sprinted up the stairs to the third floor. As she
reached the landing, her phone rang.
"Yeah?" She managed through gasps.
"Lisa? This is Gloria. What's up?" Gloria asked,
in very trepidatious tones.
"I'm not sure. I have some…" Laura paused for a
breath. "Some kind of precognitive event about to go. Come up to the third
floor East," she finished. She stopped for a moment, trying to listen over
the sound of her own pounding heart. The stairwell was definitely the location.
She glanced at her watch. It was mid-period. Everyone should be in class. She
dripped with sweat from the exertion and from fever. What the hell was going
on?
As she stepped cautiously down the hall, she neared the third
floor men's room. It had no door, but instead was designed with staggered walls
to block any view from outside. She heard what sounded like someone throwing up
inside.
The sounds continued for another few seconds before Laura
saw Gloria bolting down the hall toward her. She'd worked with Gloria in
practice sessions for more than two months, and still couldn't get over how
fast the girl could run, and how silent she was while doing it.
"Lisa's right behind me," Gloria said as she
trotted to a halt. "So, what's up?"
Gloria looked around, throwing her backpack on the floor,
and retrieving two "majorette" batons.
"I don't know. What does 'chiroptera' mean?" Laura
asked.
"I don't know. Why?" Gloria felt disturbed by
Laura's actions. She seemed almost in a fugue.
"The word is echoing in my mind," Laura said in a
far off voice.
A young man staggered from the restroom. They both
recognized him as Thomas McGuire. He was in their fourth period Life Science
class. On the same day Laura had been determined to have the Conrad Sequence,
he had as well, but his mutation had no potential for natural activation. He
looked feverish and was shivering.
"Tom… are you all right?" Gloria offered.
"I… don't…," he didn't finish.
He motioned like he was about to vomit, but only coughed.
His face was bright red. He clinched his jaw.