Gold. Orange. Blue. White. Black. We garbed ourselves with tights, belts, armor and masks, same as we would if we were going to war. Somewhere out there was a monster, and with it our companions. It was going to take more than a handful of campers to bring them back. No, it was going to need a superhero or two… or in our case, five.
Gabby frowned. “I promised Jorge no costumes,” she muttered, herself transformed by the footless monochrome bodysuit into her widely known alter-ego of Touch. “He’ll just have to chew me out when we drag him back.”
Wild Knight, Herculena, Noble and I gathered behind her on the shoreline, staring into the intimidating wall of darkness on the other side of the water. All manner of creatures lurked in concealment from the Society of Sin to King freakin’ Kong, and I along with the others was expected to punch them.
“Anyone else get a bad feeling about this?” I asked.
Herculena scoffed and polished her sword. “Have a care for your dignity, Glimmer Girl. Fear does not become you.”
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Okay, so, that took a little longer than expected. The plan was to push out a new story every Friday and I didn’t quite live up to it. This, folks, is why I’m not going around asking for donations.
With any luck there’ll be a steady stream of material flowing out from now on. In the meantime those updated in news and updates can follow Shimmerverse on Twitter or Facebook, and there you’ll get to hear me prattle on about this and that before spamming you with… well, whatever you usually get spammed with in these sorts of media.
Again, sorry for the wait. Here’s to making sure it doesn’t happen again in a good long while.
~Miranda
Hey guys,
The story’s going to have to take a few weeks break. I’ve emptied my backlog that I’d intended to keep me ahead, but real life has gotten in the way, as it does. This week I’ve been sorting a visa nightmare which ended in my fiance going back to the United States. Not a good place for writing, you know?
Again, the management apologizes for the inconvenience. I’ll give you candy if you promise not to hate me too much for it.
Miranda
Gabby raised an eyebrow curiously at Jorge’s arrival. “You went grocery shopping? We had beans in the jet.”
Looming over the cast iron pot the newly returned member of the Young Sentinels considered the requirements of his specialty dish, including the unopened cans he held in the paper shopping bag he’d brought with him.
“Remember that time we were fighting Gremlin and he shot us out of the sky with that… ionic sub-whatsamathingy,” he explained. “You know, when he blew a hole right in the side of the jet and we lost cabin pressure until we could land.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah,” Jorge groaned. “Nobody thought to refill our storage compartment after we cleaned it out.”
Gabby made a face like she was going to be sick. “I remember that. It was… absolutely disgusting. Ugh, it was wretched.”
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His thoughts were murky, same as the algae filled water through which he waded at nose level. How far had he come now? Who could say? Words had lost all meaning to him by that point. Day followed night followed day just as it had before and always would. Anything else was pointlessly complicated and did nothing to satiate his immediate hunger.
Though empty of anything but the tiniest of morsels the waters were of great comfort to the creature. They were warm and welcoming, not like the icy depths from where he had come, an undersea prison to which he would never return. Images of drowned caves sent a chill down his spine, away from the bank and into the wider stream flowing toward the river.
In the forest before him the darkness fell before the night with pine trees obscuring the amber tainted rays stretched over the wilderness. No matter. He did not need to see to know that there was prey waiting: first that deer grazing silently ahead, then something more substantial later.
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What had I done?
It didn’t matter that I’d lost control, that I was Brainwave’s slave and completely under her power: I was the one who’d blasted the captain so that not even ashes remained. Whatever blame they cared to lay on me I was more than willing to accept. A good man had paid the ultimate price because I’d allowed myself to be compromised.
Never again, I told myself. Even if it meant being locked away in the Chamber for the next ten years: never again.
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Sitting outside the principal’s office I waited for the final word. It should have never come to this, but there we were with me kicking my heels impatiently for my fate to be sealed. While I wished it could have ended some other way I also knew it was inevitable. This was a long time coming.
From behind the door I could hear my Mom’s raised voice. None of this was happening on a very good day for her, and I guessed I was partly to blame for that. She already didn’t like the idea of me as Kaira and refused to believe what I told her outright: this was probably making it worse.
The vision of Adrian sprawled out across the linoleum still played in my mind. I couldn’t say I was proud of what I’d done, but at the same time I didn’t feel too bad about it. The only guilt I had came with the smug satisfaction of seeing him wheeled out on a gurney.
Jerk got what he deserved, I told myself. Damn right.
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Two weeks ago:
Betty Bruiser sat. That was all she could ever do anymore as she awaited her death sentence to be carried out.
Her shoulders, spanning the width of the carriage, and arms stretching to the floor had been bolted to the wall: a precaution in case the collar she’d been fitted with or the tranquilizers they’d shot into her veins failed to negate her superhuman strength. Two armed guards from the Department of Corrections with enough ammunition to put down a herd of rhino kept close watch while the oddly relaxed TASK operative looked over them in turn.
There was little chance that she could escape. Even if she were to try they were still deep underground and at least two thousand miles from the nearest exit. The subterranean Y-Track stretching from New York to Alaska had for thirty years been one of the most secure and heavily fortified networks ever conceived: perfect for shipping national secrets and transporting dangerous super-criminals far from the notice of the concerned public.
“You comfortable there, Betty?” the TASK agent asked.
She grunted “thirsty” and continued to lean lazily against her shackles. The monstrous behemoth of a woman had all but given up on life. Resistance was futile.
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“I don’t believe it,” someone groaned. “Asleep for her own party. Can you believe that?”
“Portal Man or whatever his name is must’ve really given her a work out,” another responded. Neither voice belonged to people I knew.
I pried my eyes open, momentarily forgetting that I was being held upright within a wheel of hurt. Gods, I must have passed out, and right in the middle of the action. I was probably lucky I wasn’t dead, especially while being so vulnerable in the presence of an honest to gods supervillain!
“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!”
Scratch what I said before. Supervillains, plural.
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The next thing I knew I was lost in the golden haze. Maybe I wasn’t as dead as I thought as I was. When my hard light body finally reassembled itself I looked up to see an assembled SWAT team aiming cautiously in my direction.
“Er… I come in peace?” I smiled sheepishly.
“Let her go,” came the order from the captain. He turned away for a brief second to consider the unconscious Lady Snow. “And somebody get her collared and clamped!”
Oh gods, I thought: here comes the avalanche. “I can explain everything.”
“You threw yourself into the middle of a delicate operation,” the captain grunted. “Fortunately nobody was hurt. Can I say the same for you?”
His concern surprised me. “I’m fine… I think.”
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