#((not me over here making supersonic squeals or anything))

[foxedthecards]

Zapp here gonna poke them in the forehead and rest his arm on their shoulder, using the other like stool. "Hey, shorty. Still crying like a baby over blood?"

" Wha-urk!" Jonas blinks in surprise at the sudden forehead poke and then in the next instance, this guy's gone and propped his arm onto his head and is standing there smirking down at him.

" Mrff..." he grunts, face going red as he crosses his arms and looks away. Smart-ass. Doesn't help that he's hot either. " L-look I'm not good with blood...I can’t help it. And it's Jonas, thanks Jonas Copperhart. What do you want anyways uh...uh..."

Did he maybe know this guy and had just forgotten him? He sure acted casusl enough with him that it might be the case. God who knew?

[ethanlivemere]

Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 1

Note: if you haven’t read the Half-Life²: Anticitizen Prologue yet, go read that first here.

Chapter 1

Now Arriving: City 17

The shrill scream of a train horn makes me jolt up as numbness starts leaving my body. I pant and shiver from the cold air. As my heartbeat calms down I start taking in my surroundings. I am sat on a row of hard plastic chairs that extends along the side of a dilapidated train car. The gentle shaking of the cold surface beneath me and the clattering sound I had been hearing before tell me it’s moving.

“Hey there buddy, calm down. You scared me,” a gentle voice sounds. I turn my head and see a dark-skinned man, probably in his late thirties, sitting in a seat on the other side of the aisle. His eyes are dark and tired and his short beard is trimmed irregularly. His arms are resting on a plain black suitcase in his lap and his clothing consists of blue denim pants and a beige shirt. “Had a bad dream?” he asks.

I rub my head as I turn, taking my feet off the chairs to sit normally. I now notice I am wearing the same, rough fabric clothing as the other passenger. Well, so much for having earned the H.E.V. Suit. At least I still have my glasses.

“I didn’t see you get on,” he continues talking. “Are you being transferred to City 17 as well?”

I take a better look at the interior of the vehicle. The worn down red carpet that stretches from one end of the car to the other is littered with scraps and cigarette butts. About half of the ceiling lights are either dead or flickering. The walls and many of the windows are covered with posters and advertisements, most of them torn off or faded beyond recognition. Here and there, there is an intact, more recent looking poster of an owl-eyed man looking down on the passengers with a solemn expression. All of them have some variation of the same brief message: THE CONSUL SAYS… RELAX. THE CONSUL SAYS… REPORT.

“This is my third transfer this year, you know,” my co-passenger continues, ignoring my continued silence. “I spent my last trimester in City 49, and 45 before that. But no matter how many times I get relocated, I… I never get used to it.” He softly shakes his head and looks down at his fingers, playing with a loose bit of leather that has peeled off his suitcase. “The name’s Samuel, by the way,” he says in a lighter tone, sitting up. “I noticed you don’t have a tag on your uniform.” He brings his hand up to his chest and taps a stitched-on strip of grey fabric with his index finger. It says ‘G-11789RF’. “You’d better do something about that before a Metrocop catches you without one.”

My head spins. The sudden overload of impulses is too much for my still foggy mind. While trying to piece together what is going on I look to my left. There is another passenger sitting some ten feet away from me, his arms crossed and his suitcase on a seat next to him. I spot a third passenger, an Asian-looking woman, at the far end of the car, sitting next to the door. Everyone is wearing the same uniform. None of them look like they want to be on this train.

I suddenly realize that I have been avoiding looking out of the windows. There is a pit in my stomach, a sickening feeling of dread that tells me I already know what I would see. I do it anyway. I shift in my seat, turning my head around to look out of the window behind me. It’s even worse than I expected. Just like in the vision, the landscape is a desolate wasteland. Skeletons of trees crown the small hills that pop up all over the plains. The ground is cracked and there isn’t a stream of water as far as the eye can see, which isn’t all that far. The sky is completely covered in dark, greenish gray clouds that sometimes drift down to envelop the land in a disgusting smog. The sun is nothing more than a slightly brighter spot in the thick carpet, standing low above the horizon. Here and there a silhouette stands out from its surroundings by its jagged, square shape: abandoned buildings that look as if they have been picked up and dropped from a great height. A pipeline runs parallel to the rails, and I see another train track in the distance.

Just when I think the world is completely devoid of life, movement in the periphery of my vision catches my attention. Something is running beside the train, flashing past because of their lower speed. I recognize the green, three-legged creatures. Their piercing, supersonic squeals still echo through my head. Looking further into the distance again, I start noticing more signs of life. I spot a bullsquid, the large amphibian beast with acidic spit that almost cost me my life several times, in a muddy ditch. I am also relieved to see what seem to be normal crows flying to and from some of the trees, but there are some things creeping around that I have never seen before. A flat reptile with a wide mouth and four chimney-like limbs protruding from its sides, with tufts of hair on the end of each of them. Tall, tripedal insects with ambiguous organs dangling between their stalky legs. Somewhere deep inside, the scientist in me is fascinated by the alien sights and wants to study them more closely. But that man died the moment the crystal hit the beam. This Gordon Freeman just wants to avert his eyes and hope never to see anything again that reminds him of how terrifying the universe can be.

A train slides into view on the parallel track. It seems to be freight train, but it’s a model I have never seen before. The locomotive is tall, streamlined and has a sharp nose with a single headlight illuminating its path. I don’t see any windows or other indications of a control room. The thing is made of a dark, obsidian-like metal that also covers the wheels, making it seem like the train is just sliding over the dusty ground. The cars directly behind the locomotive are in the same style, but further to the back there are also some more normal looking cars with containers. I notice Samuel has gotten up from his seat and is looking over my shoulder. “Look!” he says, pointing in the distance. On the path of the other train, a gargantuan shadow looms over its surroundings, hunched over, arms spread as if bracing for impact. Its dark blue exoskeleton and single glowing red eye almost seem to mirror the image of the vehicle speeding towards it. A low, wailing horn sounds from the train as the distance between the two shrinks. The monster doesn’t flinch. It stands its ground, determined, until the train hits. The locomotive doesn’t even slow down. The monster, despite being quite a bit taller than the train, gets violently pushed out of the way and, though it is hard to tell from this distance, quite possibly cut in half by the locomotive.

“Razor Trains, man,” Samuel says with a hint of awe. “I would feel much safer if we were aboard one of those.”

Our view of the other train gets obstructed by a nearby building. There seems to be a sudden increase in the number of ruins near the track, as brick walls suddenly make up all we can see through the window. “Looks like we’re almost there,” Samuel notes. I try to look ahead and see we are heading towards a gigantic wall made of the same dark metal as the Razor Train. Behind it, tall apartment buildings and skyscrapers stand in much better condition than the buildings on this side of the wall – though they, too, show signs of ruin and neglect. “There it is,” Samuel says, “City 17.” He scoffs. “They all look the same from the outside, don’t they?” The wall grows ever nearer, until everything suddenly goes dark as we enter a tunnel, the only source of light now being the few functional lamps on the ceiling. “I heard living conditions are supposed to be much better in 17 than they were in 49, though. The air is much cleaner here since it’s so close to the Air Exchange. I guess that’s why the Consul moved here.”

The other male passenger, who visibly has been growing increasingly bothered with Samuel’s talking, suddenly speaks up: “Yeah, well, there’s also much heavier security, so if you don’t want to get us all into trouble, you’d best quiet down a bit once we’ve arrived.” Samuel looks at the man offendedly. He opens his mouth for a rebuttal, but decides against it and looks the other way, shaking his head.

When we emerge from the tunnel, it barely makes a difference for the amount light streaming in through the windows. The already dim light the sun manages to squeeze through the clouds is now also blocked by the tall buildings. It might as well be nighttime. The view outside is somehow more depressing than the wastelands: near-empty streets lit by slender lampposts, only inhabited by abandoned cars, trash and a lone citizen clutching something against his chest as he makes his way from one patch of light to the next. The railway is elevated a good fourteen feet above the street, and now and then I catch a glimpse of people behind the windows of the second floors we pass by. They fly by too fast to properly see what they are doing, but the rooms in which they reside all seem as bare and featureless as the beige shirts they are all wearing.

The train starts to slow down and I see the female passenger stand up and pick up her suitcase. The man also stands up and grabs onto a metal bar that runs along the ceiling for stability. Shortly after, the train comes to a shrieking halt at an empty platform. Once the carriages have stopped shaking and the train lets out a sigh of relief, the doors on either end of the car open, letting in a cold draft that paces down the aisle and brings life to the scraps dotted around on the once-red carpet. Samuel stands up and arches his back. “Well, end of the line,” he mutters before following the other passengers outside. I stand up on still shaky legs and do the same, stepping down onto the hard ground of the outside world.

The train platform is a desolate concrete slab, flanked on both sides by the steel and plexiglass walls  of trains and cut in half by a row of benches and pillars that support the overhead shelter. At the end are stairs leading into a hole in the ground that hungrily swallows the passengers heading down. I keep following them, heading down into a chilly tunnel that reeks of rotting trash. Our footsteps echo as we walk past branches of the tunnel that have signs with arrows and numbers to guide non-existent travelers to their platforms. As we follow the main flow of the tunnel I start hearing a distant voice from up the large stairs at the end, but by the time I reach the stairs, it has stopped.

We emerge into what must once have been the majestic main terminal hall of the station, but has now been transformed into a twisted version of its original purpose. A roof of translucent glass arches over a gaping abyss that cuts through the hall, leaving only a narrow strip of the original black and white tiled floor around it. The gap is about thirty feet across and has a chain link fence surrounding it. I walk up to the fence and look down. Several train tracks run along or across the ravine at differing heights and angles. Several trains are stationed on the rails, suspended above the seemingly bottomless gorge. All of them are the same model as the train I saw plow through the creature on the wastelands – Razor Trains. The smoke that pours down from the locomotives and the tunnels, combined with the cycloptic headlights on the trains, make for a mesmerizing display of light and shadows.

There’s a walkway across the chasm, accessible through stairs to my left. Seeing no other way forward, I take the stairs up to the walkway, only to see a strange figure standing in the middle of the path, watching over the passengers traversing the room. A man in a black uniform with red markings on the chest and shoulders. His face is enveloped by a white gasmask with lenses that glow a faint yellow. His leather glove is clenched around a baton that he softly taps against his hip as he follows passing civilians with his obscured eyes. I suspect this might be one of the “Metrocops” Samuel mentioned, and I know that whatever he is, it can’t be good news for me if he sees me.

As I’m looking around for another way, my eye falls on a large vertical screen hanging in the center of the largest wall, in front of a circular stained glass window. It displays only a set of strange symbols on a bluish green background, but suddenly a face appears on the screen. I immediately recognize it as the balding, solemn-faced man from the posters on the train. Under the face, a message appears: THE CONSUL SAYS… WELCOME.

“Welcome,” the face starts speaking through unseen speakers, “Welcome to City 17. You have chosen, or been chosen, to relocate to one of our finest remaining urban centers.” His voice is stoic, but strangely comforting. “I thought so much of City 17 that I elected to establish my administration here, in the Citadel so thoughtfully provided by Our Benefactors. I have been proud to call City 17 my home. And so, whether you are here to stay or passing through on your way to parts unknown…” The Consul smiles warmly, “Welcome to City 17. It’s safer here.” The Consul’s face fades away, and the screen goes back to the illegible symbols. I look back to the Metrocop, only to see him looking back at me. I freeze.

“Move along,” a voice sounds from the mask, distorted as if through a walkie-talkie. He gestures with his baton, and I realize it’s in my best interest to just walk past him as if nothing is going on. I have just passed the Metrocop when I make the mistake of looking down, through the metal grating, into the abyss below. I am not usually one to get vertigo – I had gunfights on cliffsides and on rocks floating between dimensions for crying out loud – but the sight makes my head spin, and I have to lean on the railing for a moment. As I’m catching my breath, I hear the low bellow of a Razor Train horn coming from underneath me. I carefully look down again to see another train arrive on a track that runs along the side of the ravine. Judging from the disgusting greenish splats on the locomotive, it might very well be the one I witnessed plow through the monster – or maybe that is something that regularly happens. I then notice something walk to the nose of the train on a steel platform besides the track. From my top-down perspective, it’s hard to tell what it is – but it sure doesn’t seem to be human. I see brown robes, a white, oval head and long, slender arms holding something that resembles a flamethrower. It points the nozzle at the train at starts spraying it with jets of sickly green… gas? Liquid? Fire? Energy? It’s hard to tell, but when the spraying stops and the being walks over to the precarious, narrow platform on the other side of the track to start spraying the other side of the locomotive, it seems to have removed all of the filth from the train’s hull.

The voice of the Consul startles me as he repeats the same welcoming message. I glance over my shoulder and am relieved to see the Metrocop doesn’t seem to be paying attention to me. I decide to get a move on and quicken my pace as I continue traversing the walkway. When I finally reach the other side, I go down another set of stairs and see a doorway leading into another room. The tables that are spread around it and what seem to be the remains of a shuttered counter lead me to believe that this used to be cafeteria. Now it just has a few tired travelers resting their heads on their hands, the only voice heard being the Consul’s coming from another large screen. I make my way between the tables and dilapidated potted plants to another doorway. Passing by, I hear a man at a table quietly mutter to himself: “They’re always departing but they never arrive… and the ones that do arrive, they never leave… you never see them go, they’re always full… no one ever gets on but they’re always…” He keeps muttering, when there’s suddenly screaming on the other side of the room. I see a man struggling against two Metrocops, thrashing around and shouting that he didn’t do anything. One of the Metrocops lifts his baton, which suddenly glows with electricity, before bringing it down on the man’s back, bringing him to his knees. The man doesn’t stop struggling and tries to crawl away. The other Metrocop pulls something from a holster on his belt and points it at him. There’s a loud bang and then a brief silence… “Welcome to City 17. It’s safer here,” the Consul’s ever hollower sounding message echoes. The two Metrocops drag the man away. Everyone goes about their business, and I decide to do the same.

The doorway from the cafeteria leads to a corridor. Posters on the wall catch my attention. They are bigger than the ones I saw on the train, but look just as much like textbook propaganda. They all bear the number 17 in one of the corners. One of them depicts the Consul with the words “It’s great to be part of the greater good”. Another depicts a Metrocop and says “Civil Protection: They’re here for you”. But one particular poster catches my attention: it shows a familiar figure in brown robes holding a flamethrower-like object. I can now more clearly see its head: it’s white, metallic, and shaped like flattened ball. It has two beady, tubular eyes and a third orifice that probably serves as its mouth. “Keep it clean… or he will”.

As I’m walking through the corridor, looking at the posters, I notice a vending machine. “The Consul’s Private Reserve”. It takes me a moment to realize that it dispenses cans of water. For free, it would seem. I’m looking at the buttons on the machine, considering pressing one, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. A bewildered looking man spins me around and grabs me by my shoulders, bringing his face very close to mine.

“Don’t drink the water,” he says. His eyes frantically dart around and his breaths are shaky. “They put something in it, to… to make you forget. I don’t even remember how I got here…” He slowly lets go of me and looks around. “I…” His voice trembles and he walks away, shaking his head. I decide to pass on the water.

The corridor leads me around a corner to a fenced-off waiting line, where citizens cue up to be scanned by a camera-like contraption hanging from the ceiling. Most people are sent straight ahead, but some get taken aside by a Metrocop and are escorted through a gate marked “NOVA PROSPEKT”. I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but I know it is a situation I would rather avoid. I turn around to leave, but am suddenly stopped by a voice: “You, citizen!” I turn back around and see a Metrocop beckoning me from a side door. “Come with me, now!” I look around, weighing up my options. Can I run? No, that’s ridiculous. The scene in the cafeteria proved that Metrocops are ruthless, and without my H.E.V. Suit I don’t stand a chance against multiple armed individuals. I have no choice but to follow him and hope I can overpower him when he’s alone.

I follow the Metrocop into a narrow hallway, past a door behind which I hear a man protesting and trying to defend himself. I get lead into a small office. “Back up,” the Metrocop says with a soft push before closing the door and walking over to an alien looking console with a triptych of monitors above it. I frantically look around the office – a desk, a filing cabinet, another of those ceiling scanners, a chair with leather straps on the armrests and suspicious red stains on the floor around it… Anything I can use as a weapon? Perhaps the desk lamp…

While I am frantically looking around for a way out, the Metrocop pushes some buttons on the console and the scanner disappears into the ceiling. “Yeah, I’m gonna need me some privacy for this,” he says with a chuckle. Before I can make a run for the lamp, he turns around and brings his hands up to the sides of his head. “Now…” There’s a click as the front part of the mask comes loose. When he takes it off, I, for the first time in too long, look into the eyes of a friend. “About that beer I owed ya!”

Chapter 2

________________________________________

So, here is chapter one of Anticitizen! I’m so excited to finally get this out there. I have a couple more things to say, but first, as promised, here are a few images to aid the visualization of some of the things I described. (Don’t take any of the images literally, there might be differences between them and the story)

Wasteland

Wasteland creature 1: Stampeder

Wasteland creature 2: Tripod hopper

Razor Train

Train Station Abyss

Beta Metrocop

Consul

Propaganda posters

__________________________________

So, this first chapter was very descriptive but I had to do a lot of scene-setting. Even if y’all know what a Metrocop looks like, I have to describe them from scratch because (1) I want this story to be readable for people who have never played HL2, (2) I need to make clear to all you HL2 fans what looks the same and what looks different and (2+1) since it’s from Gordon’s perspective I can’t just go “oh look it’s a Metrocop” since it’s his first time seeing one.

Undoubtedly you are now bursting with anticipation for the next chapter. Well, you can probably guess what I’m about to say: it’s gonna take some time. I have started writing it and it’s mapped out and all, but you know, I still have to actually write most of it.

Oh, before I forget, following a suggestion by @perfect-trash-king​ (thanks by the way) I will be posting this story on Ao3 Ao2+1 too, so if you for some reason much prefer that platform over Tumblr I guess you can head over there. Or you could follow it on both platforms. And don’t forget it’s also being uploaded to Fanfiction, so you could follow it there as well. Or don’t. You do you.

Thanks for reading, stay awesome and I’ll see you next time :)

[razieltwelve]

Dragon-Rider (RWBY AU Snippet)

No one knows where the first dragons came from. We know only that they arrived long ago and that, for a brief time, they took human form and lived amongst us. From the dragons, we learned magic and countless other arts and crafts. Yet in time, the dragons left.

But their legacy remained.

For the power of the dragons lingered in the blood of their descendants. We call them the dragon-blessed, people with the blood of dragons flowing through their veins who can, with time and practice, assume the form of a dragon themselves.

The dragon-blessed have always played a prominent role in our history. They have forged empires, unlocked the secrets of magic, and brought both prosperity and suffering to the world in equal measure. Yet they are needed now more than ever before.

When the Grimm first came, no one was afraid. What was one monster? What was ten? But it didn’t stop there. Ten became a hundred. A hundred became a thousand. A thousand became ten thousand. The Grimm grew to numbers beyond counting, and soon, all too soon, the nations of the world were under siege. Cities fell, nations burned, and empires were brought to ruin.

The Grimm were too many, and amongst them were monsters of incredible power. Only the dragon-blessed could stand against them, but not even they could face the Grimm alone. For amongst the descendants of dragons were those who could not take on the form of a dragon. Instead, they could lend their strength to the dragon-blessed, and the two together would become far more powerful than either alone could ever hope to be.

They call these people dragon-riders.

And this is the story of a dragon-rider named Ruby Rose.

X     X     X

“Come on!” Ruby cried. “Pour on the speed, Yang! You’re getting lazy!”

Beneath Ruby, the golden dragon gave a low rumble of amusement, before she folded her wings and dove. Like a bolt of lightning, Yang raced toward the ground. The wind whipped past, and Ruby gave a cry of delight as her sister pulled up at the last second and then streaked upward, each powerful beat of her wings carrying them higher into the clear sky.

Yang’s dragon form was that of a solar dragon - a dragon who wielded light and fire as their weapon - and although she wasn’t the fastest dragon in the air, her durability and strength were both outstanding. 

A few stray birds gave squawks of alarm as Yang drew level with them and bared her teeth. Still squawking, they wheeled away, unwilling to stay anywhere near the massive reptile.

“Stop teasing them, Yang,” Ruby chided. The harness that held her securely onto her sister’s back was a custom model, one designed to keep her firmly in place no matter how fast her sister went. They’d switched to it after realising just what Ruby’s ability as a dragon-rider was.

Speed.

Pure unadulterated speed.

With agility to match.

Ruby had only been able to use this aspect of her ability for less than three years, but it was already accepted that with it, Yang was the fastest dragon in the sky, as well as the most agile. They’d yet to lose a practice bout in the air with it active, and the Grimm they’d faced had been easy prey, unable to keep up with them at all.

Ready to give it a go? Yang asked, her voice unchanged in Ruby’s head.

“Yeah.” Ruby lowered her posture, pressing herself flat against Yang’s scales. As always, her sister was incredibly warm, like sitting on a rock that had been in the sun all afternoon. “Now?”

Now.

There was a rush of power, and Yang’s golden scales were suddenly streaked with red. Her already impressive speed doubled in a matter of seconds and then doubled again. Ruby felt the air ahead of them thicken as Yang’s magic increased to ward off the growing pressure. Yang’s eyes gleamed, and Ruby felt the muscles beneath her shift as Yang fought for every scrap of speed she could get. 

There was a sudden shift, and Ruby gave a scream of delight as they broke through the sound barrier. It was something that had long been considered impossible for any dragon to do, but her magic made it possible. Below her, Yang gave a roar of her own before adjusting her wings to better deal with the change in conditions. Indeed, they’d almost crashed the first time they did this before realising how to better handle traveling at supersonic speeds.

Like a golden meteor, they streaked through the sky, and Ruby shuddered as her sister banked sharply to one side before spinning upward into the sky only to drop into a loop at the peak of her ascent. The world spun wildly, and Ruby tightened her grip on the harness as Yang rolled once, twice, three times and then began to zig zag back and forth between mountaintops.

No one had ever imagined that a dragon could go this fast, and even fewer people had believed a dragon could go this fast and be this agile. It made them an absolute nightmare to face in battle, especially when Yang used her magic.

Like all solar dragons, Yang could cover herself in a mantle of fire and light that could do immense damage to anything unfortunate enough to run into her. However, Yang’s personal magic allowed her to absorb damage and use that to boost her reserves. When she combined those two abilities, Yang could transform herself into a flying wrecking ball that only got stronger the more things she ran into.

They were about to practice that exact manoeuvre when Ruby felt the charm around her wrist pulse. Her brows furrowed. “Yang, slow down!”

Her sister slowed, and Ruby cut off her magic. The charm only ever pulsed if someone from the academy was trying to communicate with them. She raised her arm and ran her magic through the charm. Her father’s voice filled the air.

“Ruby, we need you and Yang to come back. We’ve got a special visitor. It’s probably best if you’re here to meet her since she’s actually here to see you.”

“Oh?” Ruby leaned to one side as Yang banked to turn back toward the academy. “Who is it?”

“It’s a surprise. But let me put it this way. You’ll know her when you see her.”

X     X     X

Ruby patted Yang’s scales. They were travelling at a much more sedate pace since their father and the other instructors had made it very clear that travelling through the air over the academy at supersonic speeds was a recipe for disaster. There were other dragon-blessed and dragon-riders to consider. A collision at that speed might not hurt them too badly thanks to Yang’s magic, but it could easily injure or even kill a less experienced pair.

“I wonder who it’ll be?”

Probably someone from one of the other academies who wants to borrow you for a couple of weeks. Yang bristled. They need to find their own dragon-riders.

“Well, there aren’t really all that many dragon-riders whose magic does what mine does,” Ruby said. “And being able to travel at supersonic speeds while actually gaining agility is pretty useful.” She peered ahead. “Are those dragon-blessed?”

Yang shrugged her immense shoulders. In her dragon form, her sight was far, far, far better than Ruby’s would ever be. Yes. None of them are anything too weird… oh.

“What?”

They’ve got a glyph dragon.

“A glyph dragon?” Ruby almost squealed. “Really?”

Solar dragons were relatively rare, but they weren’t confined to a single bloodline or family. Glyph dragons, though, were different. Only one family of dragon-blessed had ever shown the ability to transform into glyph dragons - the Schnee family.

In purely physical terms, a glyph dragon was no match for a solar dragon. Even though Yang still had some growing to do, she would still be able to knock any glyph dragon around like a piñata if she could get her claws on them. However, glyph dragons were exceptionally fast and agile in the air. But what truly set them apart was their breath.

All dragon-blessed could unleash breath attacks of some kind or another in their dragon forms. The most common, of course, being fire breath. As a solar dragon, Yang was capable of three forms of breath attack: fire, light, and a super-concentrated combination of the two that was closer to a laser or plasma. Glyph dragons were different. Instead of breathing fire, they breathed raw magic, which they could shape into glyphs that had different effects. 

This was devastating for two simple reasons. First and foremost, a dragon-blessed’s magic was orders of magnitude more powerful in their dragon form. And secondly, glyphs were the crystallised forms of spells. The glyph version of a spell was almost always far more powerful than the spoken or gestured form of a spell.

Combine the two, and glyph dragons were basically flying weapons of magical mass destruction. Winter Schnee had famously destroyed tens of thousands of Grimm in her dragon form without the aid of a dragon-rider after using a combination of dozens of glyphs to create an explosion large enough to destroy an entire city in a single attack.

“Are you sure?” Ruby cried. “Are you really sure?”

Unless some other kind of dragon can suddenly breathe glyphs, I’m pretty sure that’s a glyph dragon hovering over the academy.

“Speed up!” Ruby said. “I can’t wait to see them!”

Not a chance. I don’t think we want to startle them.

“Fine.” Ruby huffed. “At least make sure we come in at a good angle. I’ve never seen a glyph dragon before.”

Sure thing, sis.

Yang kept her word. They came in from the west, and Ruby had a perfect view of the glyph dragon hovering over the academy. Her eyes widened in awe. Pristine white scales adorned a slender, graceful form that was at odds with Yang’s bulkier, sturdier physique. Broad, sweeping wings beat the air, and the glyph dragon’s neck was a long, serpentine column that led to a head crowned with a pair of sinuous, curling horns.

“Wow…” Ruby breathed. “They’re beautiful.”

Yang snorted. Should I be jealous?

“Well, you’re beautiful too,” Ruby said quickly. “But… yeah…” She stared dreamily. “It’s like looking at a snowflake in the shape of a dragon.”

Let’s go say hello.

Yang eased her speed even further as an immense glyph appeared in the air in front of the other dragon’s mouth. It pulsed a deep, vivid green for a moment, before the damaged walls of the academy began to repair themselves. Ruby gave a low whistle of admiration. Those had been damaged during the last Grimm attack, and it would have taken weeks to repair them. 

“Hey!” Ruby shouted. “Hello!”

Yang rolled her eyes. Dragon’s have keen hearing, Ruby, but there are easier ways to communicate. Yang settled into position about a hundred yards away from the other dragon. Hello.

The other dragon finally shifted, and the voice that greeted them was that of a young woman. Hello. You must be Yang Xiao Long and Ruby Rose.

We are.

The glyph dragon inclined her head in a slow, elegant gesture. I am Weiss Schnee.

“Nice to meet you!” Ruby shouted.

Perhaps we should have this discussion on the ground. Weiss’s voice was filled with a hint of amusement. This is a little awkward.

Sure. Yang angled toward one of the massive landing zones the academy used. The moment she touched the ground, her body was enveloped in golden light. When it faded, Yang was in her human form. As usual, she reached out to catch Ruby with both arms. The harness she’d worn clattered to the ground a short distance away.

“Thanks,” Ruby said.

“No problem.” Yang looked over as Weiss landed and transformed back into her human form. There wasn’t always a great deal of correspondence between the two forms, but in Weiss’s case there was. As a dragon, Weiss was slender, poised, and elegant. As a human she was much the same, albeit a tad shorter than Yang had expected. Oh well. The Schnees weren’t known for their height.

“So…” Yang walked over with Ruby. “Welcome to Signal Academy.”

Weiss inclined her head. “It’s good to be here.” Her gaze shifted past Yang to Ruby. “So… you’re the one I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Uh… yeah?” Ruby was openly staring at Weiss, and Yang bit back a laugh. Her little sister had only just begun to discover that hormones were, in fact, a real thing.

“I will be speaking to your father and the other instructors here about some important matters, but there is something I would like to ask you.” Weiss knelt. “Ruby… will you be my dragon-rider?”

“…” Ruby stared. “Uh… why are you kneeling?”

Weiss tilted her head to one side. “It is customary for a dragon-blessed to kneel when asking a dragon-rider to accompany them, at least it is in Atlas.”

Yang put one arm around Ruby. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here and asking her out of the blue like that.”

Weiss stayed kneeling. “Atlas finds itself in a precious position. There is a Grimm that has been assailing our settlements. It is an aerial Grimm of unprecedented speed and agility in the air. None of our dragon-blessed can keep up with it, so it has been able to attack without mercy before retreating with impunity.”

“So… you want Ruby to be your dragon-rider, so you can go off and kill it?”

Weiss nodded. “Yes.”

“Um… maybe get up first.” Ruby looked around. “People are staring.”

Weiss stood and straightened the coat she was wearing. “Very well.” She looked over to where the instructors had begun to arrive. “We shall continue this discussion later.” 

“Uh, sure.” Ruby nodded slowly.

“We might as well go along,” Yang said. “Since I’m pretty sure she’ll be asking dad and the other instructors about borrowing you.”

“Well, it would only be for a bit, right? And Atlas are our allies.”

Yang ruffled Ruby’s hair. “We’ve been training together since we were kids, Ruby. I don’t like just handing you over to someone we don’t know. What if they don’t take good care of you? Us dragon-blessed are pretty tough, but you dragon-riders are kind of squishy.”

“Maybe that’s why she came here,” Ruby said. “I mean… it’s not like dad would just send me off without being sure I would be taken care of. Maybe she’s here to, you know, show her stuff.”

“Well, hopefully her stuff can cut it,” Yang said. “Because if not, there’s no way we’ll let them borrow you.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

This is just another one of those random ideas that popped into my head. It’s RWBY but with dragons and dragon riders… but sort of with a twist. Let me know if you think it’s worth carrying on.

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon.

Definitely check out my Amazon stuff if you enjoy my sense of humour.

[justanultrastressedwriter]

Aw Hell No - Ch I

Next          Masterlist

TW: Homophobia (slurs), Violence, Swearing. Let me know if I should tag anything else

“Uh, DJ! Can’t you believe it?” the bouncy redhead squealed to her tall, curly-haired best friend with excitement.

“Can’t believe what? That you could somehow reach super supersonic levels this early in the morning?” the guy standing next to her muttered, frowning down at his best friend.

“Don’t be a dick, Daniel. Can’t you at least pretend to be excited? It’s the first day of our senior year! This is the home stretch, baby!” the short imp said, with an excited grin on her face.

“Charlotte Elizabeth Thomas. It's barely even 8 am, I’ve only had one cup coffee because you, for some ungodly reason, wanted to get to school ridiculously early, you have been shrieking in my ear for the last half hour, and I have the first period with the teacher who hates me the most because he’s the most bigoted person on the face of the Earth. What the hell do I have to be excited about?” Daniel James frowned at her, glaring. He was nowhere near being a morning person like his best friend was. Daniel could barely function before 9 am without numerous cups of coffee.

“Well, Mr. Grumpy Gills, for starters you have little old me. I’m taking the time out of my busy life to grace you with my perfect existence. My mere presence should make you ecstatic, you utter peasant.” she said cheekily, tilting her head to the side and raising her chin arrogantly. Daniel couldn’t help but crack a smile at her.

“Charlie, I have no fucking idea how I have managed to be your best friend. Your massive ego should be your best friend instead of me, you annoying little twerp.” Daniel teased.

“But, I’m your annoying little twerp and you can’t help but love me,” Charlie said with a reckless grin and a quirked eyebrow.

Daniel was about to respond with one of his famous witty one-liners when his thoughts were interrupted by a strong force against his back, shoving his face into the cool metal of the lockers he had been leaning on. He knew that at least one bruise would appear there the next day.

“Happy first day of school, faggot.” a voice hissed from behind him. He could hear the sneer and disdain in the person’s voice, which helped him recognize the voice. It made his muscles tense as he turned to face the biggest prick in the entire school.

Connor Smith; the popular jock that had been tormenting Daniel since they were in preschool. It had started back then with small childish antics: the breaking of crayons and toys, blaming Daniel for everything - which made all of their teachers peg him as a troublemaker and hate him, despite being one of the quietest and most polite kids in school - and a long list of other things that didn’t really matter in the long run.

Ever since Daniel had been forced out of the closet in their freshman year, though, Connor Smith and the entire school had gotten worse. Connor had inspired the football team on numerous occasions to jump Daniel in the school parking lot after school or to tie him to the goalposts naked, they all constantly shoved Daniel in the halls and into lockers, made him spill his lunch all over himself, broke into his locker to ruin his textbooks or his schoolwork and notes, but those were just things the sport teams did. The entire school would simply trip him or call him cute pet names, ‘useless queer’, ‘faggot’, or Daniel’s favorite ‘dirty little cocksucker’.

Of course, no one ever did anything about Daniel’s predicament. The best people would turn the other cheek to everything going on. Daniel’s mom had gone to the school boards countless times, even a few teachers had gone to the administrations on his behalf, but nothing happened. Either it was because “they were just boys being boys”, “that there wasn’t enough evidence”, or that Daniel brought this upon himself either by not sticking up for himself but Daniel knew what they really meant.

“Hey, Meathead! Leave him alone! He’s done nothing to you!” Charlie yelled, getting as fiery as her red hair and glaring up at the jock. Standing at 5’3”, Charlie yelling at Connor, who stood at a whopping 6' 3”, looked like David challenging Goliath. It could have been considered comical by an outside party.

Connor smirked as if he were amused, but then his favorite lackey spoke up, with a lustrous look. “You wanna dance, Red? I can make sure you have a great time. I can think of so many ways to make you scream.”

Charlie’s cheeks turned red at the implications and she began to struggle for words. Daniel felt a fire of anger ignite up within his chest. He knew exactly how uncomfortable his best friend was about anything sexual. She hadn’t even kissed anyone for fucks’ sake. So Daniel came to her rescue, standing up to his full height to look the jerk in the eyes and shield his best friend from the pair of Neanderthals. “Leave her alone, Tyler. She has nothing to do with this, you know that. Your problem is with me.”

Tyler Roberts. Daniel’s second-biggest tormentor and Connor’s best friend/lackey. He was also known for being the biggest man-whore around having slept his way through at least half of the town.

“Or what, fag?” Tyler said, his voice filled with scorn and disgust, making Daniel flinch at the word.

“Or we’ll take our problem to the cops, jackass,” Daniel said, glaring at the other boy. “You are eighteen, right? How does jail sound to you? And if not, oh well. I’ll just settle for getting you kicked off the football team. That will lead you to have a problem with the rest of the football team and Coach Jamison- aren’t y’all expected to go to the playoffs this year? I don’t think the team will make it without their starting lineman, huh? Not to mention all of the colleges that are willing to offer you sports scholarships. The rest of the world is pretty damn liberal these days, I don’t think they’ll take too kindly to you being charged with a hate crime against a poor innocent gay kid, now would they? But by all means, if you want to risk it all by beating me to a pulp - then bring it on, asshole. I’ve been through worse and I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Daniel raised his arms out to his sides in a challenge. He’d rather get his ass kicked a dozen times over than watch those goons touch his best friend again. He watched as the larger Neanderthal’s brain worked through the concept that actions do have consequences.

Apparently, Connor’s brain worked a lot quicker than his counterpart, because he clasped a hand onto Tyler’s shoulder as if to calm him.

“Danny-boy’s right, man. There’s too much at stake for us.” Connor turned back to Daniel with a glare, “We’re not finished here, faggot.”

As the two jocks walked away, Daniel and Charlie shared a look and a sigh of relief, “You okay, Char?”

“I should be asking you the same thing, sweetie. They barely even looked at me.” Charlie said, looking at her best friend with concern.

Daniel shrugged, rubbing his forehead. “I’m just so tired of this shit, Charlie. These giant jackasses thinking that I’m dirt just because I’m gay. It’s so fucking stupid. But, I mean, are they right? Am I less than they are because I’m a faggot?”

Standing at 5 foot ten, with curly black hair that was constantly hanging in his light grey eyes framed by the pair of round glasses that rested on his freckle covered nose, Daniel James was gay.

After coming out to his two best friends at the time Charlie and one of their former friends Grace, he was forced out of the closet. Grace had panicked after hearing the news and she told her parents who then told the entire town and because they lived in a small-ass town in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere of the deep South. That made Daniel a social pariah.

Charlie pulled her best friend into a tight hug, “Oh, honey, no. You are not less than them. If anything, you’re so much more. You don’t have to put other people down to make yourself feel big. All of these ignorantly homophobic assholes are piles of shit compared to you.”

Daniel felt himself be slightly comforted by his friend’s words, but he couldn’t stop the negative thoughts and self-disgust running through his head. The bell for the first period rang, causing the two to pull apart. Daniel grimaced, knowing what that bell meant. For the next fifty minutes, he would be at the will and mercy of the most bigoted teacher on the small campus. “Wish me luck.”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve got P.E. with Coach Jamison, huh? Hell, yeah. I wish you all the luck in the world. You’re gonna need it.” Charlie said with a playful grin.

“Don’t remind me,” Daniel said, rolling his eyes and walking towards the boy’s locker room to change into the required gym uniform. Hopefully, if he got there early enough, Daniel could change in peace and hurry into the gym to get this torture over with.

Daniel found the locker to be empty and he quickly changed out of his flannel and T-shirt, then entered the gymnasium where Coach Jamison glared at him as if Daniel was a piece of dirt on his shoe. It made Daniel’s throat clench.

Daniel hung his head in shame and waited patiently for everyone else to show up in silence. Daniel only looked up after the door opened and he could feel someone’s eyes on him and what he saw made beads of sweat appear on his brow and his throat clench. It was Connor Smith, wearing a grin that sent chills down Daniel’s spine. He thought, ‘This class just somehow got even worse. Fuck me.’

[zecarbonmage-blog]

Mayday

Prologue

I smiled as I looked down at the clouds whizzing by. This was the life! A supersonic jet airplane cruising 60,000 feet above the ground. My dad, a world famous military pilot, turned back to me.

“This is the life, Jack! Just you and me and the missle tailing us. Wait. WHAT?!”

“A MISSILE?!” I asked excitedly. “REALLY?!”

“This is no joke, Jack. This is a real, live, armed, missile.”

“I know! That makes it so much fun!”

“Jack Agustus Greene. Listen to me. Missiles are not a game. They’re dangerous killing machines.”

“But I thought that you were a master at dodging missiles!”

“I was,” my dad sighed. “But not anymore…”

“How can you lose those skills so quick?!”

“The war was 15 years ago. That’s 5 years before you were born. Don’t ask me how I know that. I just do. Over the years of practice, I have developed the skills of quick maths. But yeah. I lost my piloting skills due to my math skills.”

“But…”

“But nothing! You need to get out of here! NOW!”

“Why?”

“The missile is going to hit us in 30 seconds. Get in the escape pod!”

“What about you?”

“They want me! Now go!”

“I’m not leaving you, dad!”

My dad stood up, stormed over to me, and grabbed my shirt. My excitement about the missile morphed into fear. Fear of my dad. “Jack Augustus Greene. I’m am your father. I’m in charge. You do what I tell you to do. And I’m telling you to get in the escape pod!” With all his might, he threw me into the escape pod and slammed the door. “I’m sorry, Jack.” And with that, he released the escape pod.

“DAD!” I yelled as the escape pod fell down to Earth. I saw the sleek, black, missile close in on the plane. My dad suddenly dived straight down and the missile curved sharply after him. The gap closed. My dad twisted to the right, but the missile darted after him. My dad hadn’t even widened the gap at all! The missile closed in to the plane. I screamed as the missile pierced the jet and exploded.

As I fell down to Earth, tears streaming down my face, I stared at the smoldering debris falling past me on my decent. Nothing mattered anymore. There was no point in anything. My dad… was gone. Forever. The parachute for my pod deployed, but I didn’t even notice. I just stared at the empty void where my dad, the only person that cared, had left me.

Chapter 1

I stared down at the ground, hood over my head, hands in my pockets. There’s a lot of interesting things you can find on the ground. Shoes. Lots of shoes. Coins. Dollars. Litter. Puddles. Cool rocks. But I wasn’t interested in any of those things. I was still thinking about the day I lost my dad. The black missile. Its pinpoint accuracy. The explosion. A tear ran down my face and hit the ground. Another one came down. Suddenly, I heard a gentle voice behind me.

“Hey… Are you alright?” The voice was so gently, so sympathetic. But I knew that it wasn’t for me. Who would feel bad for me? I kept walking. “Hey. I’m talking to you, hood guy!” I continued to walk. Plenty of kids walked around with hoods. I felt a tap on my shoulder. “I said, I’m talking to you!” I stopped. Did that person… tap… my… shoulder?

I was used to people ignoring me, acting if we were the same poles of a magnet. I repelled them. I slowly turned around. I saw a tall girl with sky-blue hair, and green eyes. “Me?” I asked.

“No, I was talking to the father of a friend of mine. He likes to stalk his son. Of course I’m talking to you! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said before turning around and continuing my walk. She grabbed my shoulder.

“No. You’re not fine.”

“Oh, since when were you in charge of my emotions?”

“Never, but I can see that you’re not fine.”

“Then why did you ask me?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“But I thought you already knew that I wasn’t okay.”

“Aha! So you admit it! You’re not okay!” Her face softened. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine and dandy.”

“Liar. Come on, you can trust me.”

“I have no idea who you are. You’re a complete stranger. How can I trust a stranger? My dad told me not to talk to strangers.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure your mom’s supposed to tell you that.” “Well, my mom died shortly after I was born. I was raised for 10 years by my dad.”

“Oh… I’m sorry…”

“I never knew her really. So… it doesn’t mean that much. It probably meant a lot to my dad.”

“Wait. You don’t look like you’re 10 years old.

“Did I say I was 10?”

“No, but you said your dad raised you for 10 years.”

“Exactly. He did.” I spun on my heel and walked briskly away.

“Hey!” The girl ran after me. “I’m not done talking to you!”

“What do you want?!” I yelled at her. “Why, after 5, long, painful years, with everybody treating me like trash, you decide to be Ms. Nice Girl and talk to a social outcast?!”

She flinched. “Well… I thought you were depressed or some-”

“Well I am! Deal with it! I watched my dad get blown up and had to deal with the pain for 5 damn years! I had to watch my dad try to dodge a missile and fail! I had to watch my dad sacrifice himself for me! A WORTHLESS KID!”

The girl stepped back a bit. “Look, I’m really sorry you had to go through that. I know how that pain feels. But please, don’t hurt yourself. Let’s start at the beginning. Hi. I’m Laura.” She held out her hand.

I hesitated. This was my first actual contact with another human being for 5 years. I sighed and shook her hand. “Jack. Jack Greene.”

“Wait. Are you, by any chance, related to Blake Greene? Famous World Discussion 5 pilot?”

“Yeah… he’s my dad. Or was my dad…”

“Oh my god!” she squealed. “I’m such a big fan of him! He was incredible! His unbeatable piloting skills, his unbreakable speed math record, I have his card!” She pulled out a card with my dad’s face on it. I gasped, and started to cry. “A-are you okay?” Laura asked.

“I-I’m fine. It’s just… I haven't seen his face in years…”

“Here.” She handed the card to me. “You should have it. It’s your dad after all.”

I gingerly took the card. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What do you mean? It’s duty to help someone that’s depressed.”

“That didn’t stop people for treating me like trash for the last 5 years.”

“Look. Just ignore those people. They’re jerks. Pay attention to the people that care about you.”

“Ok. Sure. As long as you don’t have any appointments, I think I can handle that.”

“What?”

“You’re the first person to pay attention to me in five years.”

“Oh.” She chuckled a bit. “I forgot about that.”

Suddenly, I heard a loud whoosh. A strong wind pushed me forward and I looked up. A supersonic jet had just made a low pass over the market I was in. What was that guy thinking? I shook my head in disbelief before I heard a low hum. That noise… It sounded so familiar…

I whirled around and my suspicions were proved to be true. Streaking after the jet was a sleek, black, missile.

Chapter 2

I stared at the missile for a moment before sprinting after it. I knew I couldn’t catch up, but this was a huge lead to my dad’s death. I heard footsteps behind me and turned around. To my surprise, Laura was following me.

“What… why are you... following… me?” I gasped.

“I think you’re pretty interesting.”

“Heh… a depressed kid… interesting?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay… whatever. That’s... the missile that... killed my dad.”

“I figured.”

“How?”

“Do you find missiles interesting? Do you chase them?”

“No… How… can you be running… while taking… and not be gasping… for air…?”

“I run a lot. It’s good practice.”

“Jeez… you sound like… a classmate… of a guy… I knew… He did… daily runs…”

“Weak. I do hourly runs!”

“Wow… just wow…”

We were losing ground on the missile, when suddenly, the jet made a risky move. It made a quick 180 degree turn and flew towards the missile. I stopped and started running the other way.

“What are you doing?!” Laura called after me.

“It’s turning.. Around… We can… get a head… start…”

“Alright. If you say so.”

We started running as fast as we could. In my head, I admired the pilot. It was a risky move, but it gave a huge lead on the missile. The jet would streak past the missile, and the missile would need to make a 180 degree turn. But the jet would have a good lead on it.

I heard another woosh as the jet flew over our heads, followed by the missile. The missile gained on the jet, closing the gap. The jet tried to turn, but was hit on the side by the missile. It exploded, the huge ball of fire licking the sky.

I stopped. No evidence. We were too late. I hunched over, gasping for air, while Laura stood upright. “Why are you gasping?” she asked.

“I was sprinting for 2 minutes straight.”

“That was your sprint?”

“Yes!”

“That was a slow jog for me.”

“A slow jog?!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh jeez. Who have I met?”

“You met me!”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“You know what rhetorical means?”

“No, I just heard it before and decided to randomly use it.”

“That’s not really what you should do.”

“I heard about this thing called sarcasm. What is it?”

“Can we stop talking about this and focus on the burning paper airplane flying towards us?”

“Okay. Wait what?” I looked up and saw a smoldering paper airplane heading in our direction. “Oh. Cool.”

“How do you propose we catch it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought your dad was a mathematical genius.”

“I don’t think knowing the value of Pi will help us here.”

“Why not?”

“Think about it. Isn’t 3.141592653589793238462643383279502 pretty useless in this situation?”

“You know that much?”

“Yeah. Deal with it.”

“Okay. But what do we do about the airplane? Let it burn your hair?”

“WHAT?!” I ran over to a conveniently nearby lake and jumped in. As I resurfaced, I could hear Laura cracking up.

“Your face!”

“Not funny. I don’t enjoy being set ablaze by a paper airplane.”

“Well, I find the scene funny.”

“I don’t…”

“Well that’s your opinion. My opinion is that it’s hilarious. We have freedom of speech here in America.”

“Well, that’s why I kinda hate this country.”

“Why don’t you just move to another country?”

“A lone 15 year old can move to another country by himself?”

“You don’t need to move there by yourself.”

“Great. A girl that thinks me getting my hair burned is funny can keep me company.”

“Yeah!”

“I’d rather find out why someone threw a burning paper airplane at us.”

“So you enjoy my company?”

“I never said that. I’m just acknowledging that you’re in my company. I don’t necessarily enjoy it.”

“Oh. Ok.”

I gingerly picked up the soggy airplane and unfolded it. The burnt edges and smeared ink made it hard to read, but since I have bad handwriting and am used to it, I could make it out. “Black Thunder.”

“That’s weird,” I said.

“What’s weird?”

“There’s this weird symbol. It looks so familiar.”

Laura took the paper from me as I tried unsuccessfully to get out of the water. “Black Thunder… That itself seems familiar. I remember my parents were saying something about this…” Her voice trailed off.

I finally was able to make it back onto land, but Laura, the jerk stranger she was, pushed me back into the lake.

“What was that for?” I complained.

“I felt like it.” 

“Seriously? Do you know how hard it was to get out of here?”

“It’s easy! Look I’ll prove it.”

Laura dove into the lake. When she resurfaced, she grabbed onto the dock and hauled herself up, doing a backflip as she went.

“It is obvious you are hacking.”

“Yeah!”

“Hacking is bad.”

“Oh…”

“You seem disappointed.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“I like hacking.”

“Well hacking is bad.”

“You already said that.”

“I know but…”

“Look.” Laura extended her arm to help me up and out of the water. “Let’s just get back on track.” She handed the paper back to me. The symbol was a black lightning bolt in a circle with spikes protruding from the sides.

I tried to think about where I had seen that before. Then it hit me. Before, when I was walking down the street, I passed a building with that logo. I frantically looked around, looking for the direction I had came, before locating it and taking off at top speed. Laura was soon beside me.

“I think I know where to go!” I said while we ran.

“Great!” she replied with a smile.

We made it to the building. It was all black with tinted windows.

“Apparently, whoever these guys are, they love black,” I joked.

“No kidding…” Laura looked up at the insanely tall building. At that moment, a wall rose up, revealing a hanger containing a huge fortress of an airplane. I recognized it immediately. It wa a Boeing B-52 Stratofortress. With a howl of wind, it rose and flew off into the sky. A jet streaked by it. The Stratofortress turned and followed it but was rapidly losing ground.

The bomb doors opened and 3 missiles dropped from it. They closed in on the jet, causing a gigantuous explosion, piercing the blue sky with orange flames and black smoke. The Stratofortress continued on, with Laura and I gaping at the carnage.

“Welp, we found the jerks that are behind all this. That’s good and bad at the same time.” Laura said.

“Yup. It’s good that we found the criminals. Sadly, we are just random teenageres who can do absolutely nothing at all. They could probably destroy us just by clapping their hands.”

“So I take it we shouldn’t sing If You’re Happy And You Know It Clap Your Hands?”

“Not unless we make them depressed first.”

“Got it.”

With a sigh, I pushed open the door to the building and entered, followed by Laura. The lobby was empty and quiet. Too quiet. I cautiously walked further into the hall. At the end of it, we discovered tubes.

“I think these are transport tubes. You get in them and they take you to a certain place,” I whispered.

“Maybe. Look, they’re labeled.” Laura was right. On each tube was a different sign. Launchpad. Command Center. Lab.

“Which one should we take first?” I asked.

“Control center. That should be the place where we can get to the bottom of this.”

“Alright. Do you want to go first?” Part of me was being polite, while the other part of me was letting Laura go first because I was terrified.

“Of course!” Laura gave me a quick hug before leaping into the tube that would take here to the Command Center. I stood there in shock. What was this? A hug? Heck, even my dad didn’t hug me. I shrugged. I guess that was what everyone did before jumping in a transport tube.

The next slot slid up to me. I was about to walk in, but then I felt a huge object slam into the back of my head. I crumpled to the floor and and the room faded into deeper darkness.

Chapter 3

I don’t usually talk about my dreams, but when I got knocked out, I dreamt about some pretty messed up stuff. I opened my eyes internally and entered my dream. I was sinking deeper and deeper into dark, murky, and cold water. I tried to swim up, but something was pulling me down.

I screamed. Water flowed into my lungs. Naturally, that only made me scream more. Wait. How was I screaming underwater. That’s when I realized that it was a dream. I tried to wake myself up, but couldn’t. I screamed again.

My dream shifted. I was falling down in the escape pod again. All around me, I saw my dad’s plane getting pierced by the missile and exploding. I screamed again.

My dream shifted from horror to horror-A group of flaming paper airplanes. The Black Shadow’s headquarters covered in blood. Laura falling down into the void. For whatever reason, that scared me the most.

I kept screaming until I felt my body being shook. I opened my eyes shakily to see Laura staring into my face.

“Jack? Jack, are you alright?”

“I’m not dead,” I replied, sitting up

“Jack!” Laura lunged forward and hugged me tightly.

“Why are you hugging me?” I looked around. “I don’t see any transport tubes anywhere nearby.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Isn’t the definition of hug something you do before jumping into a transport tube?”

“No! Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you did.”

“Well, the definition of hug is to squeeze someone in your arms to show affection.”

“Isn’t the way of showing affecting punching someone in the face?”

“What gives you that idea?!”

“That’s what my dad taught me.”

“I used to think your dad was cool. Now I think he’s a huge idiot.”

“Hey, he’s my dad!”

“Well, that doesn’t stop him from being an idiot.”

“Can you just shut up about my dad?!” I yelled, face blurred with tears. “My dad may have been wrong at some times, but he’s the only person that actually cared about me!”

“Calm down,” Laura said softly. “And that’s not true.”

“Are you calling me a liar?! You don’t even really know my dad!”

“I’m not calling you a liar. But your dad wasn’t the only one that cared about you. I know we barely met, but there’s something about you that I care about. You’re funny, smart, interesting, and…”

There was a long pause. “And…?” I prompted.

“It’s… nothing,” she replied hastily.

“Alright…”

“Anyways, I should probably let you in on the situation. When I arrived at the Command Center, I was ambushed by a group of hooded figures. They said something about taking us to the stratofortress. I think we might be heading there now!”

Laura was probably right. I could feel the floor rumbling.

“So… now what?”

“I guess we wait here until they take us to where they want to take us?”

“FYI, I’m the guy who gives up. You’re supposed to be courageous and stuff. You think my hair burning is funny. You run after missiles.”

“I just followed you.”

“Yeah. That’s pretty courageous.”

“How is following you courageous?”

“Well, I could’ve mistaken you for a stalker and punched you in the face.”

“I would’ve blocked the punch.”

“I guess you’re right… But I can’t really believe that you’re giving up after all we’ve been through.”

“But I’m not giving up. I’m just beginning. Just wait until the guards come. You’ll see.” She winked at me, then ran over to the side of the room. She rummaged in the corner and returned with a platter of food. “They brought this when you were out. Maybe ten minutes before you woke up…”

“Hold on,” I said. “Were you trying to shake me awake for 10 minutes straight?”

“No! I was trying to shake you awake for half an hour straight. When they brought the food, I ate my portion, then went back to trying to shake you awake.”

“Wow. You must’ve been dedicated to waking me up.”

“I was!”

I sighed and shook my head. Suddenly, I heard footsteps. Laura, sensing them too, motioned for me to be quiet. She tiptoed over to the door. It opened, and a tall, hooded figure entered. Laura kicked the figure in the side of his leg and he collapsed, grunting in pain.

“Run!” Laura yelled before streaking out the door. I started to follow her, but lost a lot of ground. How was she so fast? Oh yeah. Hourly runs.

Laura turned a corner. When I reached it and turned, she was gone. I sighed. Of course she would ditch me. I was slowing her down. Suddenly, an arm reached out and pulled me into a nearby room.

“Took you long enough,” Laura said with a smirk. She put on a pair of sunglasses “Boom.”

“Where did you get the sunglasses?”

“Just shut up. We don’t want to be found.”

“Where even are we?” I asked, lowering my voice.

“I have no idea. Hopefully it’s not a common place like a cafeteria because otherwise, we would be screwed. Now where are the lights…?” Laura groped around for a bit, before flicking on the lights. “Crud.”

In front of us were rows and rows of picnic tables. Somehow, I guessed that they weren’t for playing cards.

“Hey,” I said nervously. “It might not be mealtime or any-” I was cut off as the doors slammed open and a wave of hooded figures streamed in, screaming one word in New York accents. “BREAKFAST FOR DINNER!”

“Don’t notice us. Don’t notice us,” I whimpered under my breath. And of course, they noticed us.

“Hey. Aren’t those the kids that the boss wants?” one of them asked.

“Nah, I think they’re Chris’s kids.”

“Which Chris?”

“Chris P. Bacon.”

“Ah. Hey Chris? Those your kids?”

“Nah. Try Johnny.”

“Johnny Jacky?”

“No, Johnny Johnny.”

“Oh. Hey Johnny!”

As the hooded figures were trying to figure out who exactly we were, Laura and I slowly backed out of the room.

“So where even are we going?” Laura asked.

“To the boss,” a deep voice said behind us.

“Cool.”

Rough hands grabbed my wrists and pulled them behind my back. They pushed me forward, and I had no other choice but to walk.

“Well, this is fun,” I said to Laura.

“I know right? Being captured by two people after being surrounded by at least a hundred.”

“Well, those people were pretty much idiots.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Laura smiled at me.

“Shut up,” said the guy pushing me forward. “We’re here.”

The sliding doors in front of us opened to reveal a huge cockpit. Huge technical stuff was laid out. In my opinion, it looked stupid. But the controls, the controls looked so amazing. I felt like I could pilot this to the moon and back. I suddenly felt a huge longing for my dad. He had taught me how to fly any plane when I was only 5 years old. But I had become a professional. I was pretty sure I still had my skills.

The people shoved us in and the door shut. I could see a door to the left. Somehow, I knew that it was of importance. It opened. In walked a hooded figure.

“Ah, Jack Greene and Laura Stupidton. I’ve been expecting you.” He looked at me and pulled off his hood. “Jack… I really missed you.” I gasped. The person standing before me was none other than Blake Mortimer Greene. My father.

Chapter 4

I stared in shock. There was no doubt about it. This was my actual dad. Or his incredible doppelganger.

“D-dad? Is that you?”

“No, I’m his incredible doppelganger,” he replied, as if he had read my mind. I sighed in relief.

“Well that’s great. I thought my dad was suddenly some magic supervillain for a second there.”

My dad’s incredible doppelganger walked up to me and slapped me in the face. “Of course I’m your dad you idiot!” I stepped back in shock. What was my dad doing? And more importantly, how did he survive?

“H-h-how did you survive?” I asked.

“I-I-I used skills,” he mocked. His face turned serious. “I have this teleporter device.” He held up a small purple computer chip. “It saved me.”

“But… why?”

“I needed you to be depressed.”

“Thanks a lot, dad.”

“No problem! Anyways, I always wanted a sidekick. Will you join me?”

“Will I join you?” I asked incredulously. “After you fake your own death, make me depressed, and hire a bunch of New York idiots who don’t even know who we are and eat breakfast for dinner?!”

“Well… yeah!”

“Well, then… sure!” I said with a smile. “Why not?” I walked forward and embraced him. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“I still know where the self destruct button is,” I said with a smile. I reached passed him and pressed a gigantic black button. My dad paled.

“Well, it was nice seeing you, Dad, but I think that Laura and I should get out of here before this stratofortress goes kablooey. Good day!” I strolled out of the cockpit and down the hallway. When Laura didn’t follow me, I went back into the cockpit and dragged her out.

I followed the signs to the launchpad for fighter jets. I chose a blue one and stepped into it. “Buckle up,” I told Laura. She did so and I sat in the pilot’s seat. I tested the controls. Yeah. This would cut it. I pushed the throttle forward and the jet streaked out of the stratofortress. About 10 seconds later, I could hear the stratofortress going kablooey behind me. I smiled. Now that that was over with, I could carry on life remembering that I killed my idiotic traitor dad.

“Well that’s over with!” I said with a smile.

“Wait, but what about his teleporter device?”

I held up the purple chip. “I can pickpocket people while hugging them. My dad’s dead!”

“Great!” Laura hugged me.

“So…” I said. “Wanna get breakfast for dinner like those New York guys?”

“Sure,” Laura replied. “Maybe we’ll find a survivor.

“That would actually be nice. Hold on. Where exactly are we?”

“I have no idea,” Laura said. “But let’s just screw it.

“I agree,” I replied. We continued to fly across the desert we were above, looking for civilization, New York guys, and breakfast for dinner. And for once, I was at peace. My traitor dad was dead. I was going to get breakfast for dinner with New York guys. And I actually had a friend. Someone who cared about me. I was on the road to being an actual person with an actual life. And happiness. I had scrapped my old life. I had gotten rid of the foul world my dad had made for me and made my own one, where I could be actually happy. I mean, really. What more could I possibly have?