#no clue how i tag solar so went with his name only

[roseberry-creates]

Coffee lads

for @polaris-stuff

other versions are transparent and background with lines around the characters.

[a-mole-of-iron]

Short story: “In Broad Daylight“

Living in a solarpunk utopia has got to be not only healthy and prosperous, but also safe, to really count - right? And for the most part, it is. But even in a world where everyone is well-off, communities all around the world live in peace and harmony, and everyone is on first-name basis with nature, there still might be a few rare wrongdoers who stay up nights trying to figure out how to take that away from the world. And to find those, you need the kind of person like Sverrir Haraldsen; a detective of the people.

Genre: solarpunk thriller Content warning: mild violence, and also moderate action

PREFACE

There exists, and has for a long time existed, a common and persistent misconception about utopian fiction. Whenever one brings it up, one can always count on an obstructive response like "but where do we find conflict and plot if everything is already perfect?" This idea, I should clearly state, is false. The term "utopia" itself has a double-meaning, possible to read as "ou-topia" ("no-place") or "eu-topia" ("good-place"), and it's the latter that so many people underestimate the massive literary potential of. When people bring up the idea that "utopian fiction has no room for conflict", they're presuming that a utopian society would not just be a perfect society, but a perfect society filled entirely with perfect people. For some reason, it's difficult for many to imagine that even in a society that's good to live in, people would still be able to have arguments about the different good things that they want, or that they would need to maintain society against the natural wear-and-tear that adds up over time. People don't think too often of all the literary conflict inherent in building a resilient society that won't wear down easily due to factors in the environment, or building social structures where people can "agree to disagree" and still have all the good things their society can give them, or defending those social structures against an occassional bad person or group thereof who are willing to harm others and damage society for their own gain and are deliberately ignoring whatever kindness might still be in their hearts. Those are all fine sources of literary conflict - and this story sets out to show how a particular one can work. It is a utopian, solarpunk thriller: a practical example of the way you can have high-stakes action, danger, and excitement in a society that has achieved peaceful harmony, renounced war, and sees violence as a measure of absolute last resort.

THE STORY

Anxiously pacing back and forth along the embankment, Sverrir tried to put together the pieces of the puzzle. He stopped, his tail swishing from side to side. Try as he might, he couldn't contain his seething dislike of the entire case. He needed a drink of good tea, he needed a day off for gardening, he needed a friendly, fun game of parkour tag with his community at home, he needed a ticket to an in-person concert by the original lineup of Solar Flares. What he had was a coat, a phone, and a badge.

Sverrir was distracted from his annoyed thoughts by a voice coming through his earpiece. "So what do you think, Detective?" the machine intelligence on the other end asked, their synthetic voice resonating through the comms channel.

"Well, Amos... you told me yourself who this is." Sverrir said. "Robert H. Price... knowledge dealer, with a shady reputation and criminal connections, as far as we could find out... and he was shot to death. It's like a small forest of warning flags." He looked around to notice more clues. "Huh."

"What?" Amos asked him.

"I... think the shooters were firing from a boat. There are bullet holes over there, in the advertisement column." he gestured over towards one standing inland. The column's OLED display had several punctures in it, the screen image distorting subtly around them. Sverrir walked up to the display and eyed the bullet holes. "I don't like this, Amos." he said.

As Sverrir looked around, eyeing the local buildings and all the different plant species growing around the area, a crime scene examiner walked up to him with more information. "I think you'll want to see this, Detective." she said, holding up a damaged combat rifle bullet.

"Okay... illegal military weapons... this day just keeps getting better and better." Sverrir groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "On the plus side, now I'm dead-certain that these are our criminals... and more, that they are running out of options. If they went so far as to murder one of their partners in crime, well..." he said with an unpleasant grimace, his speech trailing off.

The detective went over to the community watch car; a light, compact electric vehicle painted white and green that was small enough to park anywhere without blocking people's paths. The interior and trunk were full of forensics equipment, with the one community watch driver having brought in the entire forensics team to the crime scene. Sverrir picked up a solar-powered bullhorn - rather pointless, but indisputably cool - that was resting on the car's back seat, and addressed the half-perplexed, half-scared onlookers. "Attention, citizens!" he said. "If you're from this district, please search through your recordings for potential evidence! Anything, literally anything, might help!"

***

In a few minutes, a small crowd has assembled around Sverrir, sharing information about what they saw and heard and downloading records from their phones and other computing gadgets onto his personal device. The evidence confirmed Sverrir's theory: sonic triangulation from the community's recordings of loud ambient noises, ones designed to measure noise pollution, allowed him to know that shots were fired from about six metres off-shore - and to his horror, the weapons used were fully automatic rifles. Intercepting the contraband weapons shipment they were used to guard, and likely belonged to, was now the absolute topmost priority he had; those kinds of weapons were insanely dangerous and banned worldwide. From the soundscape, he also knew that the shooters made off in an electric-powered speedboat of unknown make and model. However, he had no concrete leads: the sousveillance turned up no video footage, and the witnesses had little information beyond being woken up around 4 AM by what sounded like firecrackers to them. However, when he was already wrapping up, a dopey-looking guy wearing sturdy clothes typical for plumbers and machinists walked up to him.

"Hey, detective!" he said. "I... think I've got something for you!"

"Good." Sverrir said. "Your name for the record, please?"

"Matt. Matt Frohman." the guy responded.

"What do you know?" Sverrir asked.

"Um, I don't actually, but I know someone else - she works a night shift in a diner downstream!" Frohman replied. "She's actually really cute, but the thing is, she may have seen or heard your guys making off from the crime scene!"

"Alright, that's encouraging... what's her name, and where can I find her?" Sverrir asked.

"Oh - Diner Olimpique, a couple of blocks away!" Frohman said. "Her name is Amanda De Vries."

"Thank you, citizen!" Sverrir said. "Who knows, maybe your friend really did see something..."

***

As he stepped off the bus near Diner Olimpique, Sverrir adjusted his coat and looked around. The diner was placed at the base of an old high-rise building, refurbished for supporting garden walls and extra balconies, with one side turned towards the nearby canal. Nearby, people were playing in a community garden, and a flock of city birds passed overhead to nest on the wall of another building further away. With graceful step, the snow leopard walked forwards and into the diner. The interior made good use of green walls, and wooden chairs and tables throughout the hall looked quite stylish, as well.

The old concrete walls were decked with wood plating, or covered in growing lichen, as well, to create a more cozy look to the place. He looked around, seeing a few people who were eating lunch, and then turned to the waiter.

"Excuse me, but where can I find Amanda De Vries?" he asked them.

"Well, she's sleeping after the night shift right now... what exactly do you need from her?" they responded.

Sverrir reached into his pocket and flashed his badge in an inconspicuous manner. "Sverrir Haraldsen, Earth Global Detectives. Amanda may be a witness on an important case." he said quietly.

"Oh..." the waiter said. "She's... not in danger, is she?"

"No, not at all." Sverrir reassured them. "I just need to talk to her."

"I guess you're in luck." the waiter replied. "She lives a couple of buildings away, on the other side of the canal." They pointed to a low-rise apartment block and a bridge leading to it. "Sansevieira Drive 26/3, right over there. Just talk to the concierge."

"Thank you." Sverrir nodded, turning around and walking out of the diner.

***

Walking on over the bridge, Sverrir shook his head fur and straightened the collar of his jacket. Walking into the building 26/3, he looked over the decorations and smiled. The plants were growing all along the walls, reaching towards the upper floors, while the lobby itself had a floor of irregular stones matched close together. He approached the concierge - an older woman wearing a dress gorgeously complex even by latest standards - with a businesslike smile, and said, showing his badge: "Hello. I'm Sverrir Haraldsen, from Earth Global Detectives. I would like to talk with Amanda De Vries."

"Oh dear." the concierge said. "What could possibly be--"

"If I do my job right, you'll see really soon." Sverrir bragged. "Amanda could be a valuable witness, so can I come talk to her?"

"Oh, I suppose so." the concierge told him. "She's living in the left-half apartment on the fourth floor. Most her roommates are off in the city at this hour, too..."

"This is good." Sverrir frowned. "I'm not looking to attract too much attention. Good day to you." he said, leaving for the stairs.

As he made his way up the first two flights of stairs, Sverrir was pleasantly surprised: even in his eco-friendly city, a stairwell with so many plants was a rarity. The climbing vines were stretching up from the ground floor and across the panes of glass that let the light in for the entire stairwell. The walls were festooned with frames that held up a great variety of potted plants, from all around the world. There was even a fun-sized artificial waterfall cascade in one of the corners, much to Sverrir's delight. As he walked upwards, he looked out the stairwell windows as well; they opened to a magnificent garden, its orange trees overhanging a communal area with benches and a small, modest-looking fountain. By the time Sverrir was up to the fourth floor, the tree branches have completely eclipsed the view, and he could even see above them a little, with the city skyline poking out above the trees. Admiring the view for a few quick seconds, he turned to the short corridor that went inwards into the building, and went down it, pressing a doorbell button for the left-hand door. A friendly chime rang out, and after a brief wait, a middle-aged man with red hair, wearing practical but eye-catching kaleidoscopic pants and jacket, opened the door. After a few moments of measuring Sverrir with his eyes, he asked: "Hello... what can I do for you?"

"Hello, ah..." Sverrir started.

"Jan." the man told him in response.

"Jan. Good to meet you." Sverrir said. "Can I talk to Amanda De Vries?"

"Not really, no." Jan said. "She's sleeping after her night shift at the diner right now."

"I'm aware, actually." Sverrir told him. "But it's important. Sverrir Haraldsen, Earth Global Detectives." he said quietly, showing his badge with a gentle motion. "Could we wake her up gently to answer a few questions? I'm searching for dangerous criminals, and she may well be a witness."

"Oh..." Jan replied.

"Don't worry, the entire detective service in the region is on-point." Sverrir said. "We just need a little more information."

"Alright then, I suppose..." Jan said. "Please, come on in."

***

Sverrir walked through the front door, looking over the apartment. The center room was a really neat social pad, with beanbags, chairs, and a massive poofy sofa centered around a coffee table. The windows on one side opened towards the city, providing a great sightline over the treetops, and the partial walls separating the other rooms were all festooned with either bookcases or whole-wall planter arrangements. Sverrir looked over as Jan pulled away a sliding door and went into another room. A good few minutes later, he walked back out, followed by Amanda: she was wearing really impressive floral pattern pajamas with massive bell-shape sleeves.

"Hello there." Sverrir said, waving his hand to greet her.

"Hey." Amanda replied. "Whatever you woke me up for, pal, I hope it's important."

"Important enough, I'd hope." Sverrir said, showing his badge. "Sverrir Haraldsen. I'm from the Earth Global Detectives. I'd like to ask a few questions about the last night at Diner Olimpique. Or to be more precise, the canal outside."

"Funny you should say that..." Amanda told him.

"Why?" Sverrir asked as she took a seat on the sofa.

"There was at least one thing blatantly out of the ordinary tonight... I suspect it's what you are following." Amanda said.

"That's definitely my concern." Sverrir replied, walking over to a nearby bean bag. "May I...?" he asked, pointing at it.

"Sure, go ahead." Amanda responded.

"Alright." Sverrir said, before sitting down and placing his phone on the table, opening a connection to Amos. "Now, would you please state for the record what you have seen?" he asked.

"Okay, sure." Amanda told him. "I noticed one very unusual boat around the break of dawn, so a bit after 4 AM... speeding down the river in violation of all community water traffic rules I could think of. I was thinking it over untill I went to bed."

"How did that boat look like?" Sverrir inquired.

"Bright azure-blue, very narrow and long." Amanda said. "The nose cowling had two parallel humps running front to back, the front of the cabin had a tall wrap-around windshield from what I remember... the back had a very distinctive spoiler sticking up, and I didn't hear any engine noise, so it must've been electric... plus, the boat had a name printed on the side in big bold letters. Could be the builder name. It was... "Smithson", I'm pretty sure... is that a boat manufacturer?"

"It is." Sverrir said. "Thank you; all of this is extremely helpful."

"No problem." Amanda told him, giving him a weary thumbs-up. "I'm pretty sure the idiots breaking the water traffic laws with it were all wearing opti-camo cloaks. They couldn't be any more memorable if they tried."

"Okay, these are definitely the people we're looking for." Amos chimed in. "Thank you for your assistance!"

"Great. Now, I suppose I can go back to bed?" Amanda asked.

***

Sverrir nodded to Amanda with a quiet "uh-huh" and stood up from the couch, picking up his phone in the process. "Well, you heard that, Amos. Smithson Model W-51.6 electric speedboat, azure-blue. Find it!" he told his companion.

Turning to Amanda, he said: "Good day to you. I'm sorry I had to wake you up, but this is of utmost importance. You'll see the results in the news soon enough." He nodded, and walked out at a brisk pace. He made his way downstairs, nodding to the concierge, and walked out of the building. As he stopped and stood at a small plaza with people going to and fro, he heard Amos come back through via his earpiece - with new information.

"Okay, Sveri, listen up." Amos told him. "Have I got something for you..."

"I'm all ears." Sverrir replied.

"I did some looking through local information, especially libraries of things." Amos said. "It'd take too long to round up all the sousveillance, but I found something else. The speedboat matching the description was borrowed in the wharf district a couple of days ago. The person who got it used a stolen borrower's card, but guess what - the idiot used the exact same card to order a dry-erase marker board. And we have an address!"

"Guess we found the weakest link, ain't that right?" Sverrir replied with a smirk. He paused for a second, and asked: "Where to, Amos?"

"Green Lizard Craftshop Annex. That's a few districts over, I'll send you a route." Amos told him.

"Do you think you can convince the local community to give us a search warrant vis-a-vis the stolen identity?" Sverrir asked in a hushed tone.

"I'll give it a shot." Amos replied. "Otherwise you'll have to talk with the craftshop custodians."

"Okay." Sverrir said, pulling out his phone to look at the map and directions. The path that Amos laid out called for him to take a tram, then transfer to a bus route near one of the vertical farm clusters and proceed to the craftshop area where the Green Lizard annex was located. This was entirely fine by Sverrir; he could blend into the crowd and approach unnoticed by the criminals. He walked on by past a couple of local shops, going through an arch between buildings that was overgrown with plants and festooned with low-intensity sun spectrum lights, and emerging into a busy street. He quickly moved into the crowd, at one with his surroundings, and smiled confidently as he walked down the street to the tram stop. It only took two minutes for a tram to arrive; an impressive bubble canopy vehicle with fused quartz windows across all of it supported by brass metalwork. The doors of the tram opened, and Sverrir stepped on board, taking a seat. Now, he thought, he had some time to focus - and work out the plan in his mind for how to go on.

***

When the tram started moving again, Sverrir quietly nodded towards his phone, and texted Amos with a request for the schematics of the craftshop annex and a bulletproof vest delivery to the site. He looked over the plans, and figured out a quiet way inside through a side entrance. With the tram passing busy streets and river canals, the detective thought on the situation. Even one combat rifle in the wrong hands could be destructive; but now, he was chasing after dozens, if not hundreds, of such rifles. If those slipped away and were used to arm the criminal underworld, the public danger would be immeasurable. There was a damn good reason why military weaponry and equipment was banned from use decades ago. Nowadays, it was the provenance of very, very dangerous people - the few that managed to run their criminal dealings in spite of peace and prosperity surrounding them. Thinking on that, Sverrir looked out the tram windows, with the sunspots passing across the interior as the sun was obscured by trees, wall gardens, semi-transparent awnings, and more besides. And if there was one thing he was sure about, it's that he wasn't going to allow those dangerous people to have their victory.

Going over the plan in his head, Sverrir stepped off the tram near the vertical farms, looking upwards briefly to witness the buildings' green-and-glass surfaces and a large banner overhead advertising all the different types of produce it was possible to get in this place in particular. Soon, the bus that the detective needed arrived to the stop, and he stepped aboard, taking a relatively short trip down to the craftshop area he needed. It took him just six minutes to arrive there; as he got off the bus, Sverrir looked the place over. It was a busy market street, with all the people taking up workshop space in the nearby complexes hawking their wares to an interested crowd, all kinds of people mingling with eachother and picking up artisan crafts.  The snow leopard smiled and quietly walked down the street. He reached the green lizard street sign on a large, complex building partially refurbished from the prior eras, and sat down on a nearby bench. He texted Amos, asking "Did you get a warrant?"

"No, you'll have to work otherwise." Amos immediately responded.

"Noted." Sverrir replied. "I hope you did get the bulletproof vest, though."

"Positive." Amos replied. "I've asked the community watch to get you one from class A emergency storage."

Sverrir turned his head, and noticed a plainclothes community sentry with a large suitcase standing near the side entrance to the Craftshop Annex. He walked up to her, saying quietly: "Hey. Sverrir Haraldsen. I believe that this bulletproof vest is for me."

"That it is." the sentry responded. "Nehal Al-Farsi, pleased to meet you."

The two walked into the Craftshop Annex through a side entrance: above-board, but out of sight of the building's windows. Sverrir looked around the side atrium, quietly stepping forwards when he saw the plaque reading "Administration and Occupancy". He slinked over to the door, and gently knocked on it.

"Hello, who is this?" a voice asked from the other side. "Please come in!"

"Hello there." Sverrir said as he and the sentry walked in, closing the door behind them. The person in the administration office was an anthropomorph like him, a badger wearing an impressively-designed vest with a few big pockets and a pair of bright-orange pants. When Sverrir walked in, she was watering the plants near a small circular window. He nodded to her, and said quietly: "Excuse me, but I'm Sverrir Haraldsen, from the Earth Global Detectives." he said, walking up at a gentle pace and showing his badge. "Can you assist us?"

"What with?" the woman said, squinting at him and Nehal. "Global Detectives are a pretty important office, aren't they?"

"I'm following up on a stolen borrower's card." Sverrir told her. "Possibly tied to contraband, murder, and who knows what else; this is an outrageous situation. My partner in service couldn't get me a warrant from the word go, but I hope I can take a look at a suspected workshop with your help, miss..."

"Narangerel." the administrator replied, her expression becoming more troubled by the minute.

"Narangerel, alright." Sverrir said. He showed the administrator his phone, with the evidence about the stolen card - traced information about the borrowings, and a later official complaint to the community watch about the card being stolen. "Will you help me out with the investigation?" he asked.

"Yes... if someone's been stealing borrower's cards, I don't exactly want them to hide away in our building." Narangerel said. "And that's even if the rest won't turn out to be true." She frowned, then muttered: "...though it does all look awfully truthful..."

Nehal made a sarcastic expression, handing Sverrir the suitcase. "Trust me, any detective who lies about evidence doesn't keep their job for long." she smirked. "One time, someone got thrown out of an EGD branch because they accidentally misplaced a spathiphyllum plant that belonged to a witness."

"Huh." Narangerel told her. "Really?"

"Somehow... yes." Nehal shrugged.

Sverrir opened the suitcase, revealing two bulletproof vests. After a moment of silence that lasted while he and Nehal got these vests on, the detective asked: "So, could I take a look at the 25th workshop, with the permission of the building's staff?"

"Hold on a moment." Narangerel replied.

***

Sverrir looked around to find a chair and proceeded to sit down for a moment as Narangerel sent the few other people responsible for the building a message, requesting their presence. In short order, they all showed up: the guy from the reception desk, the janitors and custodians, the tech support chief. Sverrir explained the situation to them, and once he got the permission, he called them to come with him; extra witnesses would help him make his case if he was right. Once they approached the door, Sverrir whispered to them: "It's better for you to keep back for now. I don't know who or what might be on the other side of this door."

"I was doin' some cleanin' there, and I don't think there were booby traps or anythin'... just so you know." one of the janitors said.

"Nevertheless." Sverrir replied. "Narangerel, could I have the key?"

Narangerel nodded, and handed Sverrir the keys. The detective opened the door, him and the sentry quietly walking in. The lights were out, with sunlight from the street streaming in through the windows covered by Venetian blinds. Sverrir turned around, telling Narangerel and others: "You can walk in. I think you should look this over with us."

"Okay." Narangerel said, her and others from the building's staff carefully walking in. As he saw them approach, Sverrir looked around - the workshop didn't seem to be too suspicious from the get-go, with plenty of plants, some computer terminals, algae-sheet paper stacks... and the suspiciously empty whiteboard next to one of the walls.

Looking at the whiteboard, Nehal asked: "So... where is anything? It's just a normal workshop..."

"Hold on, I think I know what this is..." Sverrir said. He took out his UV bulb flashlight - standard equipment for detectives and forensic scientists - and pointed it at the board, lighting it up. Suddenly, an entire map and schedule appeared, written in invisible ink: the criminals made notes about the buyers for weaponry, technical specifications, and the time for when all the weapons would be shipped out from the Wharf Embankment docks... which was in exactly 36 minutes from now. "Gods dammit..." Sverrir muttered. "This is bad! Really bad!"

"You don't say..." Nehal told him in response.

"Quick, call the rest of the local watch!" Sverrir all but yelled, with fire in his eyes. "Lock this place down, get all the evidence you can, and ask the staff to be witnesses! And I'm going to try and stop these gunrunners before it's too late!"

"Okay, will do!" Nehal replied.

Sverrir nodded and pressed his earpiece button. "Amos! Code Wildfire!" he yelled. "Get the officers to Wharf Embankment, Dock 24! We have 36 minutes before the weapon shipment is gone!"

"Got it!" Amos replied.

"Okay, Sverrir, I'll handle things here!" Nehal said "You just--" She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, her and Sverrir turning immediately to look behind them and seeing one of the gunrunner conspirators looking at them from the workshop's other entrance, keys in hand. Sverrir and the gunrunner looked at eachother for a brief moment - and then he immediately tried to flee with a few loud curses. Sverrir followed, chasing after him with a yell of "Stop! You are under arrest!"

The conspirator just kept on running, reaching into his pocket for what looked like a flashbang grenade. Before he could throw it, Sverrir lunged at him, and the two crashed into another workshop through a garden wall in the corridor, getting slathered in leaves and ivy.

"You!" his opponent yelled at him, trying to grab Sverrir as the two leapt up from the floor.

"Surrender!" Sverrir demanded in reply, trying to get a few more hits in, his opponent dodging all but one. "You've got nowhere to escape!"

The gunrunner just grappled with Sverrir in response, throwing him towards a bookcase - the detective trying to make a roll to cushion the impact as he fell back. He quickly leapt back up and threw himself at the gunrunner again to delay him, yelling "Nehal! Help me out, please!"

"I'm going!" Nehal yelled from down the corridor, Sverrir throwing his opponent to the ground in the meantime. The gunrunner grabbed a bamboo ivy support frame from a nearby workshop table, swinging it aggressively towards Sverrir - but at that moment, Nehal caught up with the two, and now the detective and the sentry tried to flank their opponent to stop him.

"Two against one? How is that fair?" their opponent smirked.

"Fairer than smuggling combat rifles!" Sverrir retorted angrily. "Surrender now!"

"Oh, keep dreaming!" the gunrunner yelled at him, going after Sverrir. The detective dodged most of his swings, parrying the few that did connect, and then delivered a few strikes of his own, trying to get his opponent off-balance. The gunrunner just laughed, asking "So that's the best you can do? Ha!"

Sverrir just grinned in response. "It's not me you should worry about!" he replied - at the exact same moment as Nehal hit the gunrunner with a massive book she grabbed from the bookcase, getting him off-balance and making him drop the ivy frame, and then did a decisive judo throw to get them on the ground for good. The two looked at eachother as they realized their opponent was stunned for a brief moment, then Nehal handcuffed the gunrunner to a nearby wrought-iron table - a good idea to ensure he couldn't just run off. The two went through his pockets, fishing out several flash grenades, and put those way out of reach. Sverrir then breathed out - and quickly told Nehal: "Keep an eye on him, and call in more sentries! You know how to take it from here!"

"Damn right we do!" Nehal replied. "Now go! You've got to get those weapons before they disappear for good!"

"I'll do all I can!" Sverrir replied. "Hope we'll talk later at the debrief!" He nodded, and ran back out. As he passed Narangerel and others in the corridor, he told them without as much as slowing down: "Be careful, keep an eye on the exits! The watch will be here soon!" He didn't even look back to see their reaction; right now, all that was on his mind was the emergency objective.

***

Sverrir double-timed it down the stairs, rushing out onto the pedestrian walkway; the sudden onrush of wind whipped his fur about as he pressed the button on his earpiece, still running.

"Amos!" he yelled. "Borrow me a car! A fast one!"

"Understood - I'm on it." the machine intelligence on the other side replied.

Dashing past the onlookers, Sverrir kept on running. He had to make it to the nearest motorway if he wanted any serious chance to catch up, and they weren't plentiful these days. Highlighting his way on the map, he ran past green embankments, cafes, and crafts stores. In other days, he liked going through the market streets at a respectably slow pace, appreciating the foods and wares from around the world, but now he ignored everything as he made his way to the motorway sector. One moment, he glanced upwards to the vertical gardens and the blue sky, and thought of the stakes at play. The largest contraband weapon shipment in two decades was slipping out of his grasp, but if he ever learned anything from Earth history classes, it's that you never surrender when the stakes are high. Leaping over a high-up guardrail, landing with a roll to cushion the impact, he saw that fortune was on his side: there was the motorway he needed, a large stretch of its parking spaces perfectly clear. Good thing not that many people used motorcars anymore, Sverrir thought.

He raised the phone again, asking "I'm here! Do you have the car, Amos?"

"Affirmative, I have it!" Amos replied.

"So where is it?" he asked.

"Turn to your left, Sveri." the machine mind replied, with what Sverrir imagined would look like a massive self-satisfied grin. He turned as instructed, and saw the approaching car: a solar-powered performance sedan, with some aftermarket improvements that caught his eye and a custom paintjob to boot. The car skidded to a stop next to him, and he leapt over the hood, flinging open the door on the driver's side and quickly getting into the driver's seat. He turned to the person in a passenger seat - a middle-aged man wearing an engineer's apron who seemed slightly perplexed by the urgency.

"Hey, uh..."

"Esteban." the human said.

"Esteban. You currently in charge of this car?" Sverrir asked.

"No, I... erm, I borrowed it from a friend after he did a few new mods... what's, uh--" Esteban continued.

"Okay, where were you going?" Sverrir interrupted him.

"I was going to the Manufactory Glades, but--" Esteban started, only to be interrupted by Sverrir again.

"Good. I'll have to drop you off before everything lights on fire; it won't be too far." Sverrir continued. "Amos, specifications?"

"Full specificaitons will be available in a moment." Amos responded. "For now, you can just floor it."

"Excuse me, but what is happening?!" Esteban reached out to Sverrir. "Is this some kind of emergency?"

"Actually, it is." Sverrir said, flashing his badge. "Earth Global Detectives. I'll tell you everything, personally, as soon as there's time. Now just hang on, this is going to be a fast ride!" he said, flooring the accelerator.

As the car accelerated, Sverrir's phone lit up again, and the distant MI read the specifications of the car. "Kometa-Tri, modified and improved. 110 kilowatts power total, maximum speed 215 kilometres per hour. Drag coefficient 0,17. Maximum battery charge 300 kilowatt-hours, current battery charge 257 kilowatt-hours."

"Good!" Sverrir yelled. "Now give me the optimal path to the Wharf Embankment! Our time is running out!"

***

As Sverrir's car rocketed down the motorway, dodging and weaving to pass the few other cars on there and the occasional bus or truck, the detective tried to figure out a plan of action. He put his phone on the dashboard, and Amos connected to the car's systems, projecting a 3D volumetric map of Dock 24 for him to glance at and tactical information about the docks and the waterfront. Sverrir noticed that the place was fairly secluded, a small landing surrounded by warehouses with plenty of tree cover... and he saw an opening. "Amos, I've got a plan!" he said.

"What have you come up with, detective?" Amos asked.

"I'll explain the details later; now, we need stunner arc-pistols and thermal imagers for the watch, rapid-acting smoke canisters, three or four pollen dusters, and the mobile scrap metal crane from Dock 29 to scoop up the guns!" Sverrir said. "Can you get all of that?"

"I can." Amos replied. "I like your plan, detective."

While Amos was coordinating the preparations, Sverrir focused on the driving, trying to get to the docks as fast as he could. He still needed a couple of minutes to coordinate the plan with the community watch on the spot, but thankfully, the Kometa-Tri he was driving could manage immense speeds, and the motorway was not only grade-separated from the all-encompassing network of pedestrian streets and bike lanes, but also mostly devoid of vehicles. He sped through the Manufactory Glades, an industry and workshop district that was drowning in greenery of century-old trees, but near its edge, where the Wharf Embankment began, he turned to Esteban.

"Esteban, it's better that you get out here." Sverrir said as he slammed on the brakes, the car quickly halting to a complete stop.

"Alright, but I'm still not sure if..." Esteban started, but Sverrir cut him off with "Don't worry, I'll do my best to handle it. And I'm not going to wreck the car. Now go!"

Esteban got out, closing the passenger door, and Sverrir pushed on the accelerator again; in just a minute and a half, he was at the heart of Wharf Embankment. He skidded to a stop over the unoccupied parking spaces - with no time to park carefully, he just left the car as it was, slamming the door shut and running off. He quickly reached the docks, noticing a group of seven bulletproof-vest-wearing sentries with several compact equipment boxes near them, the boxes festooned with warning symbols and class-A weapon safety measures. He ran up to the sentries, who were camped off to the side from the main street, and said: "I'm Sverrir Haraldsen, the guy who called this in! Is the crane in position?"

"Yes, it is!" one of the officers said, pointing to the crane parked inconspicuously between Dock 24 and Dock 25: a clunky, utilitarian eight-wheeled vehicle with powerful fuel cells placed on the cargo bed next to/under the crane assembly. "I hope the arc pistols really are called for, Detective?..." another officer asked.

Sverrir nodded grimly. "Yes - these are the most dangerous criminals I've followed in several years. And they have firearms. I'm going to personally write a full report on the request for stun weapons, but first, we've got to halt the weapons shipment."

With that, Sverrir continued, explaining his plan to the watch officers. It was risky, but if it worked, they would instantly disarm the gunrunner conspirators and their buyers. He grabbed an arc pistol and its holster that were brought for him. With everything ready, the group readied themselves and their equipment: it was now or never.

***

When Sverrir and the community watch were ready to move, the snow leopard told one of the city's machine intelligences whom the group had on the line: "Alright, we spotted their lookouts; deploy the pollen dusters!"

"Done and done!" the machine steward responded.

Sverrir looked up into the sky - and among several unmanned drones hovering in the vicinity, a group of three dashed in with extreme speed, the machine mind in charge expertly piloting them at low altitude. In just a few seconds, they were over the goons guarding the front entrance, dropping their entire stock of pollen in a dense cloud, the lookouts immediately beginning to sneeze and rub their eyes. That's when the team moved in, approaching the front entrance, with two of the officers decking the lookouts to knock them out and quickly pulling the guns from their holsters, then handcuffing them and retreating a few metres back to stand watch, and the others moving into the warehouses. The group quietly fanned out, arc pistols at the ready, and took the high ground, Sverrir and others looking out into the inner yard. In the yard, Sverrir saw no less than nine people, some wielding the combat rifles he was looking to seize, and three in particular making a deal over the several boxes of rifles, three dozen at the very least. He was quietly horrified by how much weaponry was there, ready to slip into the hands of any among the most violent and unscrupulous people around the globe - but he didn't let himself lose composure. He pressed a button on his earpiece, and asked: "Okay, everyone in position?"

The group all replied in the affirmative, and Sverrir nodded quietly - but then, he noticed one of the gunmen run in and pull one of the two dealmakers aside to tell him something, gesticulating wildly. Carefully approaching a warehouse window, Sverrir overheard the conversation... which was about the front gate guards. Reacting quickly,  Sverrir said: "Okay, change of plans! Sentry group, smoke the yard immediately! Amos, get me the crane operator!"

"Got it, Sveri." Amos said. There was a short burst of static, and Sverrir heard the voice of the crane operator hidden behind one of the warehouses - that same moment, the sentries quickly rolled the smoke grenades into the yard, beginning to fill it with dense white smoke.

"Good day, officer, what can I do you for?" she asked.

"No time for details! Extend the crane to the Dock 24 as fast as you can, and slam the magnet to maximum power!" Sverrir told her. "That'll pull the guns right out of their hands!"

"Guns? Oh man oh man..." the operator said as the crane's beam extended over the yard - and at the same moment, much to Sverrir's fear and discontentment, the shooting started. The gunrunners started shooting blindly to try and get back at the sentries who surrounded them, yelling things like "It's an ambush!" and "Everyone retreat!" - but thankfully, the walls were made of old-school clay bricks, more than enough to deflect the bullets even as other shots broke windows and pierced through sheet metal. With his fight-or-flight response kicking in right away as the shooting started, Sverrir yelled into his earpiece: "Everyone, take cover! Amos, give us overhead recon!"

"Affirmative!" Amos told him.

At that same moment, hiding from enemy fire at some distance from the windows, Sverrir looked a bit up - and saw how the crane magnet has lifted and attracted all of the boxes with combat rifles, stuck to it like so much iron scrap. The gunrunners yelled in panic and confusion, noticing the magnet overhead, and ran in different directions to escape before their own weapons were snatched away. But suddenly, the crane operator came back on the radio, asking: "Hey, what's going on?! Is that gunfire?!"

"Yes!" Sverrir replied. "Take cover! Your crane just pulled away most of their firepower!"

"Okay, okay!" the crane operator responded, Sverrir hearing her leap off the crane and run for cover. Changing the radio frequency, he got back to Amos, just in time to hear her make an announcement.

"Attention all sentries!" Amos told the group via radio. "We have three gunrunners in a boat speeding off, four hiding out in the container yard, and three others trying to flee along the dockside embankment!"

"Got it!" Sverrir said back. He looked at the other sentries with him, and tried to come up with a plan. "Okay, we are almost even with them!" he said. "Four people should go after the criminals in the container yard; climb up, smoke the place, and use the height advantage to corner them! Front gate detail, catch up with me and one other sentry! We'll go after the three who are running via embankment!"

"And what about the ones in the speedboat?" one of the sentries asked.

"That won't be a problem!" Sverrir said "Just mobilize the vehicle-pursuit drones, now that they're fleeing from us in broad daylight!"

"I'll get right on that." Amos said via the communications as they got in touch with the drone operators.

***

With four of the sentries splitting off to the container yard, Sverrir and the other sentry ran out of the building, rallying with the other two who were guarding the front gate. They risked by leaving the front gate guards unattended, yes - but it was a necessary risk. More of the community watch were already on the way; this was big, bigger than anything that the city has seen in years. The other watch group came in over Sverrir's radio channel as stray shots rang out among the containers, yelling: "We're in the container yard! Edwards, throw smoke! Fujishima, flank right!" "Got it! Zelenko, I'll cover you!"

Sverrir changed the frequency, contacting Amos again to get fresh recon.

"Amos, where are they on the embankment?" he asked.

"They're approaching a canal drawbridge behind the bend on your right." Amos responded.

"Good! Get the port authority on the horn and raise the bridge! We'll corner them there!"

"Affirmative, on it!" Amos replied.

"Follow me!" Sverrir called to other sentries. "Take cover with every move, these guys will do anything to save themselves!" The snow leopard's eyes narrowed, and he ran off, the sentries barely able to follow him without falling behind. He ran from cover to cover, hearing the drawbridge up ahead creak as he approached the sightline open to the criminals. He finally ran up to a big tree that was growing near the bend - and as soon as he peeked out, he was met with a hail of gunfire directed his way. Sverrir immediately hid back behind the tree, the other sentries forming up with him. "Okay, we need a plan! We've got them cornered now, we just have to take them down without undue harm!" he said.

At that moment, the other group came in via the radio channel again. "We got 'em! I repeat, we got 'em!" one of the sentries reported. "Our group of hostiles is under arrest! Fujishima got injured, but it's nothing serious, the bullet just grazed them!"

"Good! Get them medical attention, stat!" Sverrir said in response, before turning to other sentries. "I'm actually a bit stumped right now - there's no way we can safely fire back..." he admitted.

"I have an idea!" one of the sentries raised her hand. "Why won't we ask for another pollen duster run?" she asked with a smirk.

"That's pretty good! Everyone, arc pistols at the ready!" Sverrir said. "We've got them pretty close, but we need that opening! Amos, get us on the line with our friend, if you will?"

"Right away." Amos responded, patching in the city steward machine mind who helped them earlier.

"Hello again!" Sverrir said. "My friend Amos just gave you the coordinates; can you do another pollen drop for us?"

"Of course! Drop in 45 seconds." the steward replied. Their pollen-duster drones were normally intended for rapid ecological bootstraps - a wildgrass meadow around a finished-up construction site here, a flowerbed of epic proportions there - but now, they flew in like a strike group, dodging all gunfire that was directed at them and dumping a second batch of pollen over the gunrunners. In a few seconds, the sneezing started - and that's when Sverrir and sentries with him popped out from behind the tree, landing several precise arc pistol shots on them. The electric stun made the gunrunners drop their weapons, with Sverrir and the watch closing in... and in a minute, everything was over. The two groups on land have been safely apprehended, and soon afterwards, more of the community watch were there to take them away. Sverrir raised his finger to the earpiece, and asked: "Amos?"

"What is it?" Amos responded.

"Did we get the ones who fled by boat?" Sverrir asked.

"Yes, we have." Amos told him. "They are currently floating on the open water one kilometre away from shore, and the coast guard is coming in to apprehend them."

"Whew. Thank gods." Sverrir said. When one of the criminals walked past Sverrir as the community watch led him away, the snow leopard smirked and winked, with the gunrunner making a grimace of anger and annoyance in response. Sverrir knew one thing for sure; with all criminals apprehended, and all contraband combat rifles accounted for, his mission for the day was accomplished, and he prevented who knows how many calamities from ever taking place. In his line of work, he really couldn't ask for more.

***

For the rest of the workday, Sverrir went down to the local community watch office and did all the busywork that was called for after any case of such magnitude. He compiled evidence, filed reports about his actions, talked with witnesses and local watch officers, and tried to figure where else the Earth Global Detectives may be led by the connections from people they apprehended. But, eventually the workday was over with - and in late afternoon, he took his recess to what constituted his favourite hangout no matter where in the world he was: the Arbor Diner, a chain of restaurant co-ops serving his most preferred selection of food combos from across the world. After locating the nearest one and making his way there, he walked in, finding a nice table near the panoramic windows and looking over the place, with its prolific abundance of plants and wooden drink casks in the back, he figured he could simply let himself relax for a while.

"Hi there, and welcome!" the waiter said. "What will you have today, Detective?"

Sverrir - a person of note among the employees of that particular restaurant chain - gave it a thought, and figured he owed himself a really good snack after all that has transpired today. He turned around to the waiter, nodding to him politely.

"I'll have a double solarized Cheesemonger's Special, extra garden space on top, a dash of Appenines, overdo the mustard, and no rowing boats." Sverrir said.

The waiter just nodded and yelled to the kitchen: "You got that?"

"Yeah!" the fry cook replied, with Sverrir just smiling to the waiter and kicking back in his chair to wait for his order.

[pixxyofice]

You guys know how in PQ2 there are scenes that jokingly give the members of other teams Phantom Thief names? How these names were not the most serious, how they weren't exactly treated seriously?

Well. I decided I wanted to give a serious shot at trying to determine what the Investigation Team's Phantom Thief names would be. Note that due to a lack of familiarity with the SEES members that I won't be doing them; just the Investigation Team members.

The Phantom Thief Outfits are based on what someone's Image Of Rebellion is. The Phantom Thieves (usually) name themselves after the image their Phantom Thief outfit represents. If not that, then they are named after something meaningful to the Phantom Thief themselves (which can tangentially relate to the outfit in some way.)

For examples...

Joker looks like the traditional Gentleman Thief. His name relates to how his wild card ability makes him a useful asset up the sleeves of the thieves. The Joker's power can depend based on what game of cards you are playing, after all, sort of like... Well, Joker.

Queen looks like a post apocalyptic hero, which are usually in Very Badass Action Scenes. Cool scarves, odd outfits, spikes and metal armor... Very cool. As someone with a position of power, she can be seen as a sort of 'ruler'... A Queen.

Noir looks like a musketeer. Traditionally defenders of justice, known for a tale where they fight off evil to their kingdom. Noir named herself that because she views herself as working on the darker side of the law... hence the French word for black. (Which actually fits her thief outfit a lot! The french, I mean.)

So when giving the IT thief names, we have to consider what their personal images of rebellion would look like. Along with that, we have to consider what they would name themselves based on those images.

Let's get started.

Souji Seta/Yu Narukami. (I prefer Souji, so that is the name i'm going to use.)

Souji's image of rebellion very likely closely resembles his Persona. What was his persona based off of... A banchou or something? Kingpin, whatever. His image of rebellion seems to be a cool, collected, intimidating figure. See his Persona and also how he dressed up for the cross dressing pageant. His mask could look very similar to Izanagi's mask.

As Souji is similar-ish to Joker, I reasoned that Souji would be named in a similar manner. He is the leader of the team, the level head making the decisions... And a Wild Card. His look is intimidating, like a Kingpin, so... Name him after a strong card in a deck, or the central piece of a chess board: King. (After all, if he falls, the game is over.)

Yosuke Hanamura.

I'll be real with you. I thought image of rebellion for Yosuke, and I thought Superheroes. Sure, his first persona looks like a Ninja... But all of his Personas have a Hero Vibe to them, yeah? And he wanted to look into the TV world because he wanted to be a hero... So, Superhero Costume. His mask would probably be that Traditional Superhero Mask.

As for his codename? Knowing him, he'd probably try to come up with something Cool. Hero Sounding. I am not good with names, alas, but... What I came up with is Galestorm. It fits his wind vibes, it's a cool sounding word... Uh... I dunno. It fits him maybe!!

Chie Satonaka.

Let's be real here. Her image of rebellion is TOTALLY the protagonists of kung-fu movies. She would probably wear a yellow tracksuit, like her Persona, which.... Yeah, reference. As for her mask? ... Haha I have no idea, y'all come up with one.

As for her name.... Well, Dragon. As in Trial Of The Dragon. Alongside that nifty reference, Dragons, as mythical creatures go, could very well fit Chie. Protective, aggressive towards those it deems a threat, a fiery attitude... Its pretty good! Maybe!

Yukiko Amagi.

Yukiko Amagi's image of rebellion is likely closely related to birds. You look at her outfit and you probably think 'bird'. Remember in the Anime how Yukiko admired her pet bird for being able to fly free? Yeah. That. That's why her image of rebellion would be birdlike. Her mask could resemble plague doctor masks, somewhat. Think a less pointy Prince Akechi and also it covers more of her forehead for Beak.

As for her name? She would likely connect the feathers on her outfit to the attachments of her Persona, which represent... Sakura Petals/Blossoms. She probably had a thought jump from "sakura" to "flower terms", and probably prefers Blossom out of the two terms she thought of. It sounds pretty... But also has a tougher name Feel than Petal. Blossom sounds more like a codename, too!

Kanji Tatsumi.

Lets be real here. There's a reason the Thieves named him Skull 2.0. Their images of rebellion would be... similar? Kanji's is influenced by various outside factors, including a certain manly push, but still. His costume would probably represent his punk ideal... maybe subtly mix in his preference for cute things here and there in accessories? Dunno.

As for his codename? Well, he looks tough, and he is tough! He's the one to point to if you want someone to smack people down. Call him... Breaker. Because he breaks things. (Additional thing I only realized and laughed at now: he's an electric user. Aren't Breakers also the names of the things you use to control whats powered in the house...?)

Rise Kujikawa.

I'll be honest, I... Have no clue. In the version of this post that I lost, I think I HAD a clue, but it went with the wind. If I were to think, though... Maybe her image of rebellion is... sorta like Panther's. She has an image of a woman who is assured of herself, knows herself and her friends, and reflects their brightest points. A somewhat revealing outfit, but one that's... mature? I don't know... Her mask would probably resemble Himiko's "face" of solar panels (somehow).

As for her codename... Let's think about how she's the IT's support. Or... Well, her Persona. Her Maxed Persona has a solar system orbiting around her, with the Persona itself being the very center, like a sun. The Investigation Team could be like those planets; strong and sturdy on their own, thriving with the touch of the sun. She's like... Sunlight is necessary for a human to live, and she provides that sunlight for her teammates to stand even taller. With her outfit idea in mind... Sunlight sounds too "young". So perhaps Sunbeam for her codename. Same idea, but sounds Better!

Teddie.

...... Hey, before I just go right out and say it... Technically... Aren't both of Teddie's forms some form of rebellion from the other Shadows? He formed his bear image so he could be loved by humans, and then formed his human image so he could be with his human friends. That... That's rather unique, isn't it? Could be a rebellion in itself.

... And now for me to just say... It's Ted. Teddie gets the Morgana treatment here. A shortened version of his name that just sums up that, yep, he sure is a bear that helps in fighting shadows. No fancy name for him.

Naoto Shirogane.

Naoto's image of rebellion is rather simple, honestly! ... The outfits of the heroes of shows like Neo Featherman! Sure, Naoto admires detectives and loves reading/watching detective things... But thats not their image of rebellion. When they think rebel, they think of posing live action heroes, fighting bad guys regardless of the laws! As for their mask... Uh. Bandana across face look. Also worth noting: their Persona's little wing/cape thing would Definitely be a part of their thief outfit.

As for their name... Naoto would probably go with something on the simpler side. Their outfit reminds them of their Persona, who is bug based, and thus, bug theme names. Wasp... Beetle... Moth. Moth fits their Persona's wing/cape thing the most, and sounds sort of soft... But if you underestimate Naoto, they'll show you that their softer name hides a brain of steel and a quick trigger finger.

So... The Investigation Thieves are:

Souji Seta/Yu Narukami - King

Yosuke Hanamura - Galestorm

Chie Satonaka - Dragon

Yukiko Amagi - Blossom

Kanji Tatsumi - Breaker

Rise Kujikawa - Sunbeam

Teddie - Ted

Naoto Shirogane - Moth

What do you guys think? Should I have come up with better names? Reblog/Tag with your thoughts!

please I know there could be better names for Yosuke and I know someone out there has a good Rise Thief Image, please

[sweetiepie08]

Rebel Z Chapter 3

Invader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall​

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know. 

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.  Chapter 6.  Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. 

[-]

Tak activated her Vortian disguise before she even entered the solar system. When dealing with the Meekrob, an Irken could never be too careful, especially after Tenn’s disappearance. Word around the stars was that her life signal suddenly went out one day. No one knew what happened. Apparently, the Tallest hadn’t received ant worrying reports. Her last transmission was a routine observation update. She wasn’t making any risky plans and she didn’t have a near-discovery. She was there one minute and gone the next. Soon afterward, the Meekrob put out a warning declaring that any Irken caught within their planet’s range would be killed on sight. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was responsible for her disappearance.

It was a shame, really. Tak was a few levels ahead of Tenn in training, but she heard good things. Any invader assigned to Meekrob must be talented. They were, after all, Irk’s most formidable enemies. Safe to assume they had done her in. It was a tragedy that someone so young and bright had been cut down in her prime, but life as an invader was fraught with peril, at least so long as the enemy was intelligent.

Finally, they approached the planet Refirencee and, after going through a check point, she docked her ship in a public hanger. Before exiting her ship, she looked at MiMi. An information retrieval unit would be especially advantageous on this mission, but the engineering was too obviously Irken. “MiMi, cat disguise.” MiMi saluted and her holo-cloaking devise activated. Tak looked her over an nodded her approval. They were lucky an Urth cat looked so similar to a Vortian jelicle.

Satisfied with their cover, they hopped out of their ship and headed for the transport bay. There, they found a digital sign displayed the departure times for bullet trains which took the planet’s patrons to different sections of the massive data base. The trains were broken down by planet and the one for the Irken information section left in only a few minutes.

As they waited for their train, Tak noticed a few patrons looking at her. She tried to keep her eyes on the track before her and ignored their stares as she felt a light pounding in her chest.

One of the patrons approached her. “Um, excuse me,” he said, eyes turning to MiMi.

Tak shot him a glare. “What?”

“I’m not sure they allow pets.”

“She’s an emotional support jelicle,” Tak said. A spark flashed across her eyes and the patron’s face went blank for a second.

“Right,” he answered, almost robotically. “Sorry I bothered you.”

The train arrived and Tak and MiMi boarded. They took a seat and the train took off at break-neck speed. They arrived at the Irken section in a matter of minutes. She stepped off the train to find her self in a large, domed building, surrounded by towers of data cartridges. Sorting droids buzzed about, arranging cartridges to their rightful places. In the center of it all, a librarian sat at a large, circular information desk.

“Excuse me,” Tak said, approaching the desk. “Where can I find information on the cyber age?” It would be a good start. The invention of the PAK kicked off the era.

“That will be section 8792,” the librarian answered. “I’ll call you a browsing cart.”

The librarian pushed a button and a cart zipped up to the desk. It was just a flat, hovering rectangle with a handrail and a control board at the front. Tak and MiMi hopped on and she entered the section number into the control panel.

“By the way,” Tak said, turning to the librarian, “forget I was here.” The spark flashed across her eyes again and the Librarian’s face went blank. Tak hit the start button and her cart zipped off. She arrived at her destination within seconds.

“MiMi, find a data console about PAK invention,” Tak ordered as they stepped off the cart. MiMi saluted and slinked through the aisles. While she waited, Tak sat down at a computer desk. In a few minutes, MiMi returned with a data console marked “Irken Cyber Age Vol. 1”. Tak took and plug it into the computer. She scrolled through the text, skimming over most of it. The information mainly consisted of things any smeet would know. After the control brains were built, they gave the scientists the idea to build the PAKs. These PAKs efficiently distributed Irken knowledge and ushered in a glorious new age of blah, blah, blah…

Yes, every Irken alive knew their basic history. But what about the PAKs themselves? How were they built? How did they work? Tak was beginning to wonder if this was a waste of time. After all, the key to PAK mechanics was Irk’s most guarded secret. She shouldn’t expect to find that information here. In fact, she should be glad that knowledge hadn’t fallen into enemy hands.

She continued to scroll and a picture caught her eye. It showed the five engineers in charge of the PAK project. The face of one particular engineer kept glitching in and out. He was decently tall. Not tall enough to be considered for the upper echelons of tallness, but a good height none the less. His round, purple eyes caught hers and she studied his uneasy grin. The names of each engineer were listed in the caption and one name, Krislotch, glitched in time with the face. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone wanted her to pay attention to this guy.

Was it even Krislotch himself? Very well, you have my attention. Now what do you want. She scrolled down a bit further and noticed individual letters glitching as well. A message perhaps? Hidden in the page? What are you trying to tell me, Krislotch?

“MiMi, my tablet.”

MiMi reached into her head and took out a small, metal canister. Tak unfolded it into tablet mode and took out a stylus. She wrote down each letter in order.

A COMPLETE HISTORY OF IRKEN INDUSTRY VOL 13. CHAP 78.

Now this was interesting. It seemed Krislotch left her a little crumb trail. Where it led, she could only guess, but she simply had to follow. She ordered MiMi to find the volume mentioned. When the SIR unit returned, she plugged it into the computer and jumped straight to the designated chapter. Reading through it, she found it was about a factory disaster which resulted in a great number of deaths. Apparently, some worker named Mia, somehow, caused a back up of materials at her station. The machine couldn’t put out new materials, overheated, and caught fire. For some reason, the sprinkler system was disabled, and the fire only spread. Fifty-seven workers, including Mia, died in the accident.

As Tak read the page, she spotted two full sentences glitching. The first gave the number of those dead and the other showed the date. She wasn’t sure why the number of dead was important, but even a smeet a few minutes old knew the significance of the date. This disaster took place exactly 0.1 cycles before Installation Day, the day all Irkens were given their PAKs.

More letters glitched. Put together, they led to a console called “The Irken Cyber Age: a Complete History vol. 1.” They also directed her to a page which, once she read it, confirmed her suspicions. Krislotch did, in fact, want her to know the disaster occurred 0.1 cycles before Installation day. But apart from that, what was the connection?

Yet again, more letter glitched. She’d picked up the trail. Glitching letters led her to a console of Irken History, itself with more glitching letters leading her to the next clue. As she read on, a clear pattern began to emerge. Since the introduction of the PAKs, every major historical event was preceded by a deadly disaster by exactly 0.1 cycles. The historical events mainly revolved around Irken galactic conquest: military campaigns, invasion launches, and the like. The disasters varied widely, but they all had a few things in common. They were all caused by an Irken who then died in the disaster, and they all left fifty-seven dead. Even the names of the Irkens who caused them were similar: Mia, Mib, Mic, Mid, Mie…

The trail stopped before reaching more recent events. The final set of glitching letters gave her the title “An Observatory Study of the Final Days of Ecore,” as well as the coordinates to the console’s location, which rested in a completely different part of Refirencee. She’d waste no time getting there, but something nagged at her.

There must be some current events which fell into the pattern, she thought. Things I would remember. Operation Impending Doom was the obvious answer. It was the most recent invasion launch, but she couldn’t think of any major disasters that preceded it. Then again, the launch date had to be delayed due to… Wait… Was that it? How many died that day? And how long after did Impending Doom II launch? She had to check to be sure.

“MiMi, find information on the original Operation Impending Doom.”

MiMi swept off and quickly returned with a new data console. A quick look confirmed her suspicions. Fifty-seven dead in a rampage caused by disgraced Invader Zim. Impending Doom II launched exactly 0.1 cycles later. It was a close fit, but it wasn’t’ perfect. Zim was alive, for one thing, while the other disaster causers died. Another was the name. It didn’t fit the pattern, unless…

Tak slapped her palm to her forehead. Was the idiot such a complete incompetent that he got his own assigned name wrong?

Surely more answers would be found in the next console.

She and MiMi rode the cart to the closest train station and took the next train to a section called Dead Planets. Once there, they took another cart to the location designated by the glitching letters. As they approached, they found they weren’t looking for a data console at all. The coordinates Tak punched into the cart took them to a section deep in the library. The shelves surrounding them held actual, physical books. Judging by the layers of dust, they were the first lifeforms to enter these aisles in a long time.

They made it to the correct shelf and Tak ordered MiMi to locate the book. The robot found it in matter of seconds and brought it to her. Tak brushed off the cover and opened the book. A small, plastic square fell out and landed on the floor with a clack. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was a data storage device not used in ages. This was old technology, ancient even, but whatever was on it must be important. She pocketed it and sat down on the floor to read. As the book wasn’t in Irken, she couldn’t read it without assistance. She tapped the implant on the side of her head and a universal translator monocle popped out, covering her eye. She began to read.

A Note to the Reader

When I began this journey, I had no intention of chronicling the final days of Ecore. It began as an anthropological study to discern what made this once-thriving civilization drop out of contact with the greater solar system. I set up a hidden shelter on the outskirts of Ecorien society and observed from the outside. My discoveries explain, not only the degradation of Ecorien culture, but the death of the planet itself.

Tak poured through the book, wondering what this weak, primitive culture possibly had to do with Irk. The anthropologist wrote about the Ecorien’s devotion to, what he called, “the Many-Eyed God.” Apparently, this new theology was a sharp deviation from known Ecorien culture. In the past, the Ecoriens revered their planet’s natural resources and energy. This new god was completely unheard of.

He also went on to describe the people’s changed appearance. They looked thin and sickly, and aged rapidly. They’d go to their god for supposed cures, but they didn’t seem to do any good. The people never got better from what plagued them, no matter how devotedly they followed their god.

The most fascinating part was a barbaric ritual referred to as a “blood toll.” When the Ecoriens asked their god for a large favor, such as a bountiful harvest or a cure for a plague, the god would order a blood toll. They brought fifty-seven young, healthy Ecoriens before their god and slaughtered them.

Fifty-seven… Fifty-seven Irkens… Fifty-seven Ecoriens… Was this what Krislotch wanted me to see? She read on.

Soon, she reached the final days of Ecore. An uprising broke out among the younger generations of Ecoriens. The blood toll sacrificed many of them and the elders asked the Many-Eyed God for more and more favors as the species grew weaker. The youths fought back against the elders, refusing to be sacrificed. However, the history of blood tolls had greatly reduced their numbers. Relatively few were young enough to be prime candidates for sacrifice, but old enough to fight. The elders overpowered them. The Many-Eyed God ordered the mass slaughter of the younger generations, promising to restore youth and health to the elders.

Youths died by the thousands, from young adults, to children, to infants. At the end of the bloodbath, the Many-Eyed God detached itself from the planet’s core. It drifted into space, leaving the Ecoriens with nothing but the blood on their hands. With the younger generations wiped out, they were doomed to extinction.

Tak turned the page in horrified awe. The last days of this planet were truly a massacre. The Ecoriens, tricked by this god, turned on their own. Their own god used them, sucked them dry, and abandoned them when they had nothing left to give. This wasn’t just the death of a planet. This was the murder of one.

What this massacre had to do with Irk and PAKs, she still couldn’t say, but the number fifty-seven stuck out in her mind. Fifty-seven died in the Irken disasters. Fifty-seven slaughtered in the Ecorien blood tolls. The connection was obvious, but what it meant escaped her. The Irkens had no gods, not for a few millennia at least. They thrived on science, technology, and conquest. It was said, even before the cyber age, that the Irkens bowed to no laws, but made their own. Nothing calling itself a god could gain this kind of influence on Irk.

But when she turned the page, her vail of denial evaporated. She dropped the book in shock. MiMi swept up to her and peered over Tak’s shoulder. The book lay open on the floor, displaying a two-page spread of images of the Many-Eyed God. Some were sketches. Some were photos taken at a distance. All displayed the same familiar entity. She’d looked into these eyes. This “god” encoded her as an elite trainee. She begged this “god” for the opportunity to prove her worth. This “god” denied her and banished her to Dirt, a husk of wasted potential.

The Control Brain and the Many-Eyed God were one and the same.

She stared down at the book as the truth stared back at her. This thing, whatever it was, had wormed its way into Irken society. It controlled them, fed off them. They even had their own blood toll of sorts. In the end, the Ecoriens withered away to nothing. They were sucked dry and left to rot. It was only a matter of time before the same happened to Irk. This thing, the Control Brain, has to be stopped.

The number 10:00 appeared in the corner of her vision and began ticking down. 9:59… 9:58… “My life clock!” How? Why? Her PAK was still attached. It shouldn’t… Wait, the Control Brain. Her PAK emitted a constant stream of information to the Control Brain and she just had a rebellious thought. There was no time to waste.

“MiMi,” she commanded. Almost as an afterthought, she realized her holo-disguise had gone out. “Take me to the ship. Top speed.”

MiMi stretched out her arms, wrapping them around Tak, and propulsion jets burst from her feet. She flew them out of the library, across the planet, and to the parking bay at such a speed, the world became a nauseating blur. By the time they arrived back at the ship, she had less than 8:00 minutes to save herself.

She plugged her PAK into the ship. “Computer, life-supports error check, immediately.”

After a few seconds of scanning, her computer answered. “Life support systems completely shut down.”

Her insides dropped. “Search for the cause.”

A few more seconds of scanning passed. “Systems shut down after a command initiated by the Control Brain remote feedback program.”

It was as she suspected. “Suggested solutions?”

“Remove feedback chip and manually restart system.”

She felt her guts twist and her body broke into a sweat. Remove feedback chip? Every Irken alive knew it was treason to disconnect from the Control Brain. She’d be an outlaw, a traitor. Returning to Irken-controlled space would be a death sentence for her. But I’m going to die right now if I don’t.

She had no choice. If even thinking about saving her planet from this… this… parasite made her a traitor, then traitor she was. She pulled the plug from her PAK and removed it from her back. She had only a few minutes before her organic brain turned to mush.

She opened a compartment of tools and then opened a panel on her PAK. With a set of tweezers, she located the feedback chip and, with a tug, marked herself traitor. Using a shocking fork, she restarted the life support systems. She turned around, the PAK reattached, and her life clock disappeared. Already, she could feel her body reinvigorating, but the weight of what she’d just done fell heavy on her.

Right now, the Armada was receiving an automated notification that Tak, the deserter janitor, had gone traitor. Orders would be issued for her capture or killing. Every Irken in the military would know her face. She could never go back.

And she couldn’t linger here. She and MiMi made quite the scene with their exit. People would come after them. Anyone who managed to get a look as they flew past could clearly see she was Irken. They had to get far, far away from Irk and far, far away from here.

She powered up the engines and flew the ship out of the parking bay, still unsure of where to go. Anywhere in Irken-controlled space was out and word that an Irken was spotted on a Meekrobian-protected planet would soon spread. She had to go somewhere remote, a planet uncharted and ignored by most of the known universe, a place the Tallest would never willingly go.

She let out a roaring, agonized groan as her mind landed on the perfect answer. It was both the safest place in the universe to hide and the last place she wanted to be, especially in this state. Still, she had no choice.

“Computer,” she growled, pinching the bridge between her eyes. “Set coordinates to Urth.”

[changingourdestiny]

Coronation Part 1: New Year, New Mischief

Summary:

It's New Year's Day at the Tower and Fireteam Paralight, along with Cayde, are laughing over the events of the previous night. But when an excited Marcia drags them down to the Annex with seemingly no explanation, they can only wonder what in the name of the Traveller is going on?

Next Part: Here

It’s been a little over two months since Fireteam Paralight took on the horrors of the Moon with Eris Morn and Marcia Wyverk, and things have seemed to have gotten crazier since. From killing the Undying Mind in multiple timelines to saving the legend known as Saint-14 (and a fan-boy moment from Adam), Paralight have had their hands full. And as the three of them know all too well, they’ll only get crazier from here. But nothing could prepare them for what was to happen… It was New Year’s day on Earth. Even on a cold morning like this one, the courtyard was still fairly busy with Guardians either returning from twilight patrols or heading out for morning ones, while some were just stumbling out to get fresh air while recovering from hangovers caused by the night before. Rae leaned against the Tower railing as she looked out over the City. Rae was never one for alcohol, so she was fully sober the whole night and had the pleasure of remembering all of the…interesting events that played out. Her thoughts were interrupted by a yawn as a sleepy Cayde strolled up beside her, leaning back against the railing. “Good morning.”  Rae smiled. “Mornin’” Cayde mumbled as he stretched his arms. “Told ya not to stay up so late.” Rae chuckled as she shook her head. “And miss the entertainment? No way!” Cayde chuckled as he recalled the events of last night’s New Years party. “Did I miss anything?” Rae asked as she stood up straight. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. From what I heard, Blaze had Firefly record the whole thing and put together a compilation vid.” Cayde reassured, “Though I kinda feel bad for the massive headache that-” Cayde cut himself off as he spotted a very proud-looking Blaze and a tired-looking Adam approach them. “Ah! And here comes the star of last night!” Cayde laughed. “Ugh…what happened last night?” Adam groaned; hand pressed against his forehead. “You haven’t told him yet?” Rae enquired, turning to Blaze. “Figured I’d wait until I was with you guys to show off the finished product.” Blaze grinned as Firefly popped up beside her. “I got all the best bits and put them into a little video for all to enjoy!” Firefly chirped. “Wait…best bits? Best bits of what?” Adam asked, giving everyone confused glances as Stormbringer hovered beside him. “I’m sorry, Adam.” Stormbringer apologised, “I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen.” “Back up.” Adam held up his hands, “What the hell happened last night?” “Well…” Rae began, “After midnight, Saint wanted to challenge people to a drinking contest. And you decided it’d be a great idea to take him up on the offer. He was fine, but…we found out you’re a serious lightweight.” “Oh no…” Adam’s face went noticeably pale, “Please tell me I didn’t do anything dumb.” “If ya didn’t, I wouldn’t have this compilation!” Firefly replied as she began to show the video. It featured Adam giggling at nearly every little thing, marching around while singing in Swedish, going around and telling all the Titan’s that they’re his best friend, including Zavala, Sloane, Shaxx and Saint, and even a clip of him going around with Storm displaying a picture of Petra while Adam told the others to ‘look at his lovely girlfriend’ and how ‘he’s the luckiest Guardian this side of the solar system’. Blaze, Cayde and Rae just chuckled as they watched Adam’s face get redder and redder before the compilation finally ended. “I gotta say, Adam.” Rae began, “You’re quite the extrovert when you’re drunk.” “Please tell me you haven’t shown that video to anyone.” Adam begged. “Nah, I didn’t show anyone.” Blaze grinned as Firefly disappeared. “Thank the Traveller…” Adam breathed a sigh of relief. “But I did send a copy to Petra.” Blaze snickered before running off. “BLAZE, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!” Adam yelled as he took off after the laughing Hunter. “I don’t know who to feel bad for – Adam or Blaze.” Cayde chuckled “She asked for it, in fairness.” Rae shook her head, “Anyway, we should get to our posts before Zavala has our heads.” “Guardians. It does not matter that your head is practically exploding. Get out there and fight the Darkness. War. Poetry. Knitting.” Rae laughed at Cayde’s Zavala impression before suddenly stopping and covering her mouth. “What?” Cayde asked, confused. “As ‘amusing’ as your impressions are, Cayde, it’s time you got back to your post.” Cayde froze up upon hearing the familiar voice of the Titan Vanguard behind him. “A-aha! Right! See ya, Zavala!” Cayde grabbed Rae’s arm as he took off towards the Hanger, leaving Zavala shaking his head before heading to his own post. ——————————————————————— “Happy New Year, Amanda!” Rae greeted as she and Cayde entered the Hanger, Colonel fluttering over to Cayde before nestling in his arms. “Mornin’, you two. Happy New Year!” Amanda called from under the Sparrow she was working on. “Good morning, comrades.” Rae heard Saint call as he descended the steps of his ship. “Morning, Saint. All good after last night?” “Ha! Last night’s contest was child’s play. Although, I cannot say the same for Adam. How is he?” “He has two headaches.” Cayde replied, setting Colonel down on the ground before following Rae to Saint’s ship. “Two?” Saint asked, confused. “Yeah. One’s in his head an the other he’s chasing around the Tower.” “Ah yes! The little Hunter that was filming. Blaze, yes? Which reminds me, what is the name of the Hunter with the little mark under her eye? Black hair, scars on the cheek.” “You mean Marcia?” Rae asked. “Yes, that’s it. I saw her looking about the hanger earlier.” Saint replied, “She seemed excited about something.” “Uh oh…” Rae began, “When Marcia gets excited over something, that thing’s usually not something good.” “There you are!” Rae and Cayde jumped upon hearing Marcia’s voice echo through the hanger. Marcia rushed over to them from the hanger entrance with a beaming grin on her face, “You two. With me. Annex. Now!”, grabbed their arms and began dragging them away. “Okay, this is happening then!” Cayde exclaimed. “See ya, Saint!” Rae called as they were dragged out of the hanger. “Is it always like this here?” Saint asked. “Yup. Pretty much.” Amanda replied. ——————————————————————— “Hurry it up!” Marcia dragged Cayde and Rae down into the Annex. “Can you at least tell us what you’re up to?” Rae asked. “Nope. Not now. Not here. Too many ears. It’s bad enough I need Vanguard help for this, but I need as much help as possible.” Marcia replied, before shooting a glare at Cayde, “Plus, a certain someone still owes me for their stunt a few months back.” Marcia dragged them into Drifter’s room in the Annex where he was there with Adam and Blaze – the latter having a noticeable bruise on her forehead. “He caught ya?” Rae asked. “He caught me.” Blaze replied, “Worth it, though.” Rae rolled her eyes playfully as Marcia finally let go of her and Cayde. “So mind telling us what you’re up to now?” Adam asked. “She didn’t tell you guys either?” Cayde asked as he watched Marcia rush about the back of the room. “Nope.” Blaze shrugged, “We asked Drifter, but he hasn’t a clue either.” “All I know is that she’s been running ‘bout the solar system ‘investigating’, as she puts it, since you got back from the Moon.” Drifter replied, tossing a coin into the air, “When she got back last night, she began rushin’ about the Tower saying stuff like ‘I got it!’ and ‘How’d I not think of this?’” A small crash was heard from the corner of the room followed by a small “Ow!” from Marcia. “Hey, be careful back there, yeah? I like my mess where it is.” Drifter called behind him. “Sorry!” Marcia called back as she emerged from the corner with a rolled-up map, “Okay, so ya’ll know how I’ve been getting those power surges, yeah?” she began, “Well, I didn't get the answers I was looking for on the Moon. But I think I know where to take the next step...and I'm gonna need some good ol' Paralight backup!" Marcia unravelled the map, “This look familiar?” “Is that…the Dreadnaught?” Rae asked. “Is that one of my maps?” Cayde added. “It’s a COPY of one of your maps…that I stole…and then put back…so it’s technically borrowed. But that ain’t the point!” Marcia replied, “After we got back from the Moon, I came to the conclusion that while it wasn’t the Pyramid that was causing the surges, it was definitely the Darkness or something similar. So I travelled to different patrol zones to see if I could see if anywhere provoked a similar reaction. I got nothing, until I arrived on Titan. My surges began to act up again and that got me thinking ‘Okay, so it’s not the Hive…so does it have something to do with the orbit around Saturn?’. Then I looked up and noticed that I could see Saturn from there…and a certain ship still hanging out in its rings. That’s when I had a serious ‘Duh!’ moment. It’s the Dreadnaught! The ship of the Taken King himself! In fairness, I should’ve figured it out from the start.” “So what do you need us for?” Adam asked. “I wanna get up there and find answers.” Marcia began, “But I can’t go up there alone. It’s Taken central, for Light’s sake, and it’s still teeming with Hive and some Cabal stragglers. There’s no way I can take ‘em all on my own, even if I didn’t have unstable power surges to worry about. So I need some capable hands to watch my six. Drifter’s already offered to tag along, but I knew I’d need more on board. So I figured ‘Hey! I’m on good terms with Paralight! And Cayde owes me. So why not?’. So what do ya say?” “Yeah, no.” Rae replied as she turned to walk away. “That’s the spiri- wait, what!?” Marcia exclaimed as she darted in front of Rae, “Why not?!” “The Vanguard have prohibited patrols on the Dreadnaught since the Red War. And I’m not getting my Fireteam in trouble nor am I putting them in danger because you want to go on a suicide mission.” Rae replied sternly, “Besides, what are we getting out of it? I’m not putting my friends at risk if there’s no outcome for us.” Marcia sighed before her expression turned serious, “Okay. I’m going to tell you something, but it’s to remain in this room at all costs until this mission is over, yeah?” “I’m listening.” Rae raised an eyebrow. “I…have a hunch of what I might find up there. It’ll be one of two things. I don’t wanna say what outcome A is in case it turns out to be outcome B, which is I become fully Taken or lose all control of my powers or something. If outcome A happens, though, it could be a major turning point in this war. If outcome B happens…I need people I know can put me down if I lose myself…people I can trust. Which is why I need you to help me with this. Please.” Rae stared at Marcia for a moment. Marcia had a stern and serious expression on her face, but Rae could see in her eyes that it was masking the fear and desperation she felt inside. Rae turned to Cayde and the rest of her Fireteam. “We’re in if you are, Sunrae.” Cayde spoke. Rae sighed in defeat as she turned back to Marcia, “Alright. We’re in.” Marcia’s face lit up as she grinned, “Hell to the yeah! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! Get prepped up and meet me back here at 8am sharp tomorrow. We got a ship to storm!” Marcia darted out of the room while whooping in excitement. Rae sighed, "What did we get ourselves into...?" To Be Continued…

[elasianstar]

the world on a turtle’s back Chapter 2

Sunday afternoon and time to head down to the lair for game night with the turtles. After the day I'd spent with Raphael I couldn't keep myself from thinking about the big guy. Yeah he was hot headed from time to time but he was really sweet. He doesn't talk much, mostly speaking through glances and body language, but I don't mind. The silences we had shared were mostly comfortable. Maybe Mikey was right, maybe Raph is just a big ol teddy bear, though an incredibly violent one.

Realizing the time, I pulled my glittery owl shirt out of my dresser and pulled it on over my fighting leathers. I obscured my wings and ran out the door. My bike Niltsi was in the building's basement garage waiting for me.

the golden feather painted on its black tank glimmered in the neon lights as we sped through the streets of New York toward the garage where the turtles kept the shell raiser. Donnie was under the garbage truck when I pulled in and heard the motor.

“Hey Casey, Raphael is down in the lair.”

“Hey Donnie, it's not Casey.”

“Elasia!”

In his surprise he accidently smacked his forehead on the exhaust, luckily it wasn't hot. When he saw me getting off my bike he whistled low and pinched the tip of his tongue between his lips in thought.

“This is Niltsi.”

“Didn't think you were into motorcycles. You have to show that thing to Raph, he's an old motorcycle junkie. You might get him to show you Raijin. Just don't mention it to Leo.”

“Will do, thanks Donnie!”

Once I was down in the lair I was quickly attacked by a flying ninja hug from Mikey, luckily I was used to it by now and the 250 pound turtle didn't knock me off my feet like he had the first few times.

“Hey Mikey.”

“Heya, Angelface! You ready for game Night? We got sorry, monopoly, clue, cards against humanity, uno….”

“Wait like board games?”

“Yeah it's family game night!”

“I thought you meant video games.”

“Nah, the last Sunday of every month Splinter sets up the board games for a family night, no training allowed, no fighting, just a good night of games and snacks!”

Dragging me off to the dining table he showed me the mismatch of salvaged games laid out. The boxes were banged up and the pieces looked to have belonged to several copies and editions of certain games but they were all complete and playable. Near the end of the table sat 5 small handmade figures not unlike those used to play dungeons and dragons. the first one was sculpted from clay and painted with ink to look like a tiny Leonardo, the next was carved wood dressed in actual cloth and made to look like Raphael, the third was a metal Donatello complete with a small solar light where his projection system usually sits, the fourth was a 3D printed Mikey painted to look like an old cartoon character, and the sixth was a small glass splinter. Each statue displayed a different medium and art style but each was masterfully made.

My thoughts were interrupted by loud barking as I was swept off my feet from behind.

“Addie’s back, how are you feeling girl!”

A large roan American Staffordshire terrier was jumping and pawing at mikey's plastron before noticing me and slobbering all over my face.

“bleck, ok ok down girl.”

A deep rough voice stopped the dog.

“ANDROMEDA.”

The happy pit ran over to her master, sitting somewhat calmly at his side as he grabbed her pink spiked collar. A blown glass galaxy hung in place of a tag.

“She isn't supposed to jump but she's kind of excited.”

Wiping the drool off my face I knelt in front of the dog at Raphael’s side and gently scratched her.

“It's alright, I get a fair share of dog drool at home, I'm used to it. She’s an absolutely gorgeous American Staffie. I've never seen one with a roan coloring before, it's a beautiful genetic anomaly, and the brown and green heterochromia in her eyes. She's a beautiful little lady, yes she is!”

“Raph rescued her as a puppy when we busted a dog fighting group in queens. She's actually been at the vet expecting a litter of her own.”

The dog showed no signs of having recently given birth and the somewhat heartbroken look on Raph’s face spoke volumes.

“What happened.”

He knelt down next to the dog who pressed her head up against him with a whimper.

“April took her in for her checkup and the vet said that she wasn't producing the hormones needed to birth and nurse the pups, more likely than not she would have reabsorbed the whole litter. They did a cesarean and managed to save two but 8 didn't make it. The two babies are going to stay with April and Casey so they can get store bought formula.”

I didn't know what to say so I just placed a reassuring hand on Raph’s where he had stilled petting Andromeda. His eyes darted over to meet my own for a second before he patted Addy and sent her off to say hi to her other uncles.

“Did they at least let you see the babies?”

“yeah, they were just as small and soft as Addy was when I found ‘er. Named the baby girl Cassiopeia, and the boy Orion. Vet says they'll be fine. Addy had to stay topside for a while to heal up but I'm glad I've got her back.”

“She’s a sweetheart that's for sure. I don't mean to sound insensitive, but have you considered having her spayed. With the two genetic anomalies of her coat and eye colors this most likely was caused by another genetic mutation, especially if she was improperly cross bred to be a fighting dog.”

“Yeah the vet already thought that would be best. Didn't really tell me the reasonin’ behind it though. That makes sense though.”

...

“Is that your cafe racer in the shop?”

“Yeah got it in ‘78, harley Davidson XCLR 1000cc, named it Niltsi after the navajo wind god. Donnie mentioned you've got your own, Raijin?”

“Yeah it's an old Indian I found in the scrap yard when I was 15. Donnie and I fixed it up and Mikey touched up the paint for me. Leo doesn't know…”

“Yeah Don already told me, my lips are sealed. Can we go see it?”

Just then splinter and Leo came in from their sanctuary.

“Ah Elasia, Michelangelo told me he had invited you. I hope you enjoy our little get together.”

“Yes I'm excited to play some games, I already told Mikey that I'd kick his butt in clue.”

Splinter laughed touching my shoulder in a fatherly way.

“I'm afraid to say that won't be too hard. My youngest son is gifted in many ways, conventional problem solving is not one of them.”

“Daaaad!”

Leo was helping Mikey move the snacks out of the kitchen, with Addy on their heels, he bumped his little brother with his elbow reassuringly.

“Don't sweat it Mikey, you know you're the king of pictionary.”

“Did someone say clue? Just let me put up my spot welding mask in the lab and I'll be right there!”

Donnie ran off to his lab, tossing the mask through the door before rejoining the group. Unable to escape now Raph grabbed my hand, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“I'll show you the bike later, just have to get through a few hours of games.”

Nodding just enough for him to notice I made my way over to what has been dubbed my seat at the end of the table, and joined in on the debate over what game would be first.

“We can't play sorry Elasia doesn't have a lead piece.”

“Well then Donnie we can use something as a stand in, like a dice or the monopoly car or something.”

“Actually Leo I have something that will work pretty well.”

Digging into my bag I pulled out a small obsidian raven statue with golden eyes, setting it amongst the 5 figures of the hamato family.

“That's cool, did you make it?”

“No my brother Gabriel made it, he's into stone cutting. You should see the maple leaf pendant he carved out of garnet for his mate, it's gorgeous.”

…

L-“Sorry Mikey!”

M-“uuuwaaaa, chrrrrr. Leo you suck!”

E-“Uuuwaaaa, chrrrr.”

Four sets of eyes snapped on me as I covered my mouth. What did i say!?

M-“you speak turtle!?”

L-“your voice sounded exactly like mikey’s how did you do that.”

E-“I didn't mean to I just mimic sounds sometimes! I didn't….”

S-“Corvids are commonly known for their exceptional mimicry skills, it makes sense that Ms.Elasia would demonstrate that trait.”

M-“What's a corvid and what does mimicry mean.”

R-“It means that she can copy sounds and voices moron.”

S-“Corvids are birds like crows and ravens Michelangelo. Elasia seems to be a hybrid of a Raven as you are a turtle, or I am a rat

M-“Cooooool, can you do it again?”

I anxiously peeked at each of the four turtles, they seemed like they genuinely wanted to hear me mimic something else.

E-“Can you do it again?”

Mikey’s eyes went wide at the sound of his own voice leaving my throat and the other three looked mildly impressed.

M-“Do Leo, Do Leo next!”

L-“Mikey, that isnt..”

E-“Mikey, that isnt…”

M-“Awesome!!! Do Donnie.”

E-“I need a sound to focus on, Donnie?”

D-“ummm, I guess saying anything would work right?”

I tried something, “Right anything would work.”

D-“Interesting, it seems to be more than simple repetition, once you get a voice down can you say just about anything?”

Closing my eyes tight in concentration I tried to say something unique in Donatello’s voice.

E-“I've never tried that before but due to the repetitive sounds and cadences of the English language I could probably figure it out once I had enough data.”

R-“Damn, that's impressive.”

I tried to copy Raph’s voice only for a breathy croak to leave my throat.

E-“I guess Raph’s voice is out of my register, I need to expand my low range.”

M-“Awwww now my prank plans are ruined.”

E-I wasn't going to help you start a fight between Leo and Raph anyway Mikey.”

He legitimately pouted.

M-“But Elasia, think of the pranking potential!!”

S-“I am thinking of who will possibly win this game, now my sons, Ms.Elasia, if we could continue.”

ALL-“Hai sensei”

It was Splinter who eventually won but what he didn't know was that i saw him move his pieces with his tail while the brothers had been distracted.

The night was going great, Mikey and I teamed up during pictionary and kicked butt. Donnie won the game of clue, predictably playing as Professor Plum. Leo pissed everyone off in the first few rounds of monopoly when he somehow managed to get both of the high roller properties. Raph killed trivia pursuit, constantly answering every question correct except in the the entertainment sections.

Now we were playing scattegories, Mikey, Leo, and Splinter v.s Raph, Donnie, And I. Mikey kept triggering me to make noises during my turns causing me to have trouble answering my cards, in retaliation Raph had started putting him into a headlock and covering his mouth on our turns.

“Ok Elasia This is the last Round and we need 10 points to win, Oh this card is actually fitting, and a little ironic. In 60 seconds name as many biblical angels as you can. GO!”

“Cassiel, Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Lailah, Xapham, Zuriel, Jophiel, Afriel…”

Mikey wrestled free and started making the most obnoxious sounds he could.

“BEEP!... Honk!...RACAAAAW!!!...”

“Five seconds!!!”

“R...RA..RAH...RAPHAEL!!!!!”

“TIME!”

Raph snatched mikey, smacking him over the back of the head while yelling at the smaller turtle. Donnie was searching for each of my answers to calculate points.

R-“You dirty lil’ fuckin cheat!”

D-“That’s ten we win!”

R-“What?”

L-“No that can't be right she only said 9 angel names, recount Donnie?”

D-“No look Leo, right here, the comprehensive list of biblically named angels…”

L-“Well dang, I wouldn't have guessed…”

M-“No she only said 9 names, I stopped her.”

D-“The tenth name was Raphael. It says here that he is the patron angel of healers in Judaism, and one of the four archangels. John 5:1–4 references him, ‘an angel of the Lord descended at certain times into the pond; and the water was moved. And he that went down first into the pond after the motion of the water was made whole of whatsoever infirmity he lay under.’ In the bible of Islam he is known as the burning one.”

M-“Raph’s soul heart thingy was burning when you did your magic healing stuff!”

R-“No you guys got it all wrong I ain't no angel… I...”

E-“No, you aren't an angel, but no one can deny that you’ve been touched by one. You are the best of your brothers at stitching up wounds, relating to the healing abilities of your namesake. Your soul is one of few that are somewhat stably related to the element of fire. though you demonstrate the stereotypical emotional flare ups you work quite well with the more mundane aspects of your element for someone with almost no training in the discipline. Plus the angel Raphael is the spirit most closely related to the idea of guardian angels, all four of you fit quite well into that roll for a lot of people in this city.”

Raph looked visibly uncomfortable with all of the attention so i was quick to move the subject to someone who would quickly divert the attention.

“And you Mikey, Your name Michelangelo literally translates to ‘Of the angel Michael’. Michael is known as the leader of the army of God and the divine good. It is prophesied that it will be Michael who rises against Lucifer in the time of the end. He is known as the defender and is often associated with children or those of a youthful disposition.”

“Awesome!!! I’ve got an angel too! What about Leo and Donnie?”

I noticed Raph escaping to the snack table, glad I diverted that one.

“Well Leonardo means Lion bold. It doesn't have a biblical connection but there is a link to the constellation Leo, the lion killed by Hercules during his great trials. The bright star at the chest of the lion is called Regulus, it is also known as the King star. It’s believed that all of the greatest leaders are born under the lion.”

Leo puffed at that, shooting a glance toward Raph that practically boasted his supposed celestial disposition toward leadership.

“As for Donatello, It's derived from the Latin Donatus which means “Given” in the context of being a divine gift. It is also loosely translated as ‘to pardon’ or to forgive. It speaks of a kind and charitable nature.”

Donnie blushed, fiddling with his glasses in embarrassment.

L-“Elasia, you forgot your name. What does it mean?”

“Well in my people’s tongue it means the guardian of stars. In our mythology Elasia is the name of the daughter of the moon goddess Lunis and is responsible for guiding the souls of the dead into the night sky. The name is also synonymous with night or darkness, which is why it was adopted by the survivors of the great war as the name of the unified civilization of species.”

L-“So you're named for you people's grim reaper or angel of death figure. I guess that explains the skull charms you wear.”

I nodded, fiddling with the brass Raven skull at my throat.

M-“No our Elasia IS ELASIA. Why else do you think she has all of those wicked soul powers and stuff. She said herself that she lived multiple lives!”

R-“Mikey shut yah trap, can't you see you're makin her uncomfortable?”

M-“Sorry Angelface, I didn't mean…”

I gave Mikey a small hug when he knelt in front of me.

M-“It's alright Mikey, and don't worry we're still friends and super awesome gaming buddies.”

M-“Awesome, wait how did you know i…”

I just smirked tapping my temple.

M-“Jedi… I knew it”

It was then that my alarm went off.

“Well sorry guys, if i'm going to get any sleep before work in the morning i'm going to have to head back. It was really fun, we should definitely do this again.”

“Hey Elasia, one question.”

“Yeah don?”

“This job of yours, its a human surface job right?”

“Yeah i'm internshiping with the local forensics unit, why?”

“How do you manage to hide your, physical differences?”

I dug around in my bag, pulling out a blue glass bottle with a cork.

“This, its a potion used to concentrate the natural obscurants of my people. It doesn't make my wings go away but it does make them look like something else. The effects are only temporary though and the enchantment is very easy to break if necessary.”

I took a quick swig and pulled my wings against my back where they melted into a dark tribal tattoo. with a quick shake however they became wings again and a thin opalescent blue dust fell to the floor.

“It's not the easiest stuff to make and it's a bit painful. but it’s a viable option for those who have to interact with humans on a daily basis, especially if they have features that aren't easily hidden by other means.”

“Would it work for us?”

“I'm not sure, each person who uses it has to tailor the recipe to their species and individual biology in order to get the right results. I could look into it. I really should be going though.”

“I’ll walk you up.”

“Thanks Raph.”

…

When we got to the garage Raph led me to a dark and cluttered back corner, revealing a cleverly constructed trash cave just big enough for what was hidden inside. A modified Indian “Big Base” Scout with a deep burgundy and cherry red accented paint job. It was gorgeous.

“Damn, talk about a beauty, and he’s an old classic, 1948.”

Raph grabbed the handlebars like he was handling the love of his life as he rolled it out of its cubby and parked it at my feet.

“It's not entirely original, Donnie and I had to make some modifications and figure out how to build some parts from scratch so that it’d fit me.”

I had already gotten down on the floor of the shop and was curiously poking around the mechanics of the bike.

“Yeah it looks like you lengthened and reinforced the frame, and the suspension obviously, adding in the liquid cooling system was definitely a smart move, I can hardly see your additions on the cosmetic pieces, a human would never notice. This is really well done, How does he ride?”

“It’s a little heavy on the handling, nothing i can't handle though, gets a bit rough around 80 MPH.”

“But that’s expected of older models, even my XLCR gets a little shaky at higher speeds and its what 30 years newer?”

“I could… Drive ya home, if ya want. I mean so ya can hear what the engine sounds like.”

“That would actually be pretty nice. Doubt I'll hear it over the growl of MY bike though.”

At this i cocked my hip and snapped a sharp turn, swaying as i moved to mount Niltsi. Switching it on i revved the engine hard, the roar causing a smirk to pull at my lips, especially in response to the gigantic smile on Raph’s face. Starting up his engine he quietly rolled it to meet me at the mouth of the garage. Checking that the roads were clear our eyes met, a silent nod signaling the peal of thunder caused by both bikes speeding off down the road at the same time.

At first we kept pretty equal but as i started to pull ahead a bit Raph started to speed up, pulling ahead of me and starting a race. Narrowing my eyes i shifted my position so that i was lying as flat as possible against the tank of my Harley and raised my wings into an angle, the increased aerodynamics of the position causing me to rocket past Raph as my engine roared in victory. Raph decided if he couldn't beat me in speed then he’d beat me in style, as our bikes settled in next to each other he slowly began to raise up onto the seat of his Indian until he was riding the machine like a skateboard. One of his large two toed feet controlling the handlebars while the other maintained his balance and position. I couldn't help but throw my head back with laughter, leaning back in my seat and throwing my hands up as i steered with the toes of my riding boots. Soon though we reached my apartment and pulled the bikes into the alleyway parking behind the building.

“That was so much fun! I can't believe you surfed on that thing!”

“That thing you did with your wings was pretty cool, what do you call that?”

“Its called stooping, its a position used to increase diving speeds in falcons.”

In our excitement we both jumped around the alley, burning off adrenaline until we somehow ended up nearly chest to chest, the smiles on our faces bright and open.

“Your hair is all fluffy.”

Without thinking Raph smoothed his large hand over my short hair in an attempt to right it only for it to pop right back up. I couldn't help but notice how nice the sensation felt and to laugh at his frustrated expression.

“It does that when i'm excited, it's called plumeing….its a bird thing.”

“Like a parrot. Its cute.”

Realizing what he said his face immediately fell back into its intimidation mask and he moved to get back on his bike.

“Wait Raph….”

He started the engine and drove away as quickly as he could.

“Its ok…..”

When he disappeared from sight i spread my wings and with a few flaps landed on my apartment balcony. From here i could just make out his headlight shining between the buildings. I gently ran my fingers through my hair, copying the motions he had made.

“Goodnight Raphael.”

…

Raphael's POV

How fucking stupid am I! We were having so much fun, the night was going great and I go and ruin it by being a sappy anxious jackass! She probably thinks I'm a dopey dweeb!

Pulling quietly into the shop I hid Raijin back in the pile and stormed through the lair toward the dojo. Mikey tried to ask me how it went but I just growled low in my throat and pushed him away as I stormed past.

I needed to beat my anger into something.

After about an hour of destroying another training dummy I moved to the free weights. I needed to cool off.

What if she really meant what she said tonight? I mean she said nice things about everyone but I think that might have been a distraction tactic. Couldn't have my brothers calling me angel, or for Mikey to staple wings to my shell in my sleep. She looked so happy tonight, laughing and speeding on that beaut of a Harley. And her hair did look really nice all sticking up and wild, it was soft.

Throwing the bar back on the stand I rubbed the heels of my hands down my face. It couldn't happen I needed to stop fooling myself. Staring down at my hands I imagined her own looking so small and delicate against my rough green skin. No it would never work.

…

Elasia’s POV

The next day at work all I could think of was his smile and the feel of his hand in my hair.

No he would never like me like that, we're just friends, I need to stop reading so much into it.

I wore my red flannel tank top anyway.