csyphrett

Crenshaw 1670- Bloody Bill Crenshaw smiled as he noted sails on the horizon. The rumors had been true. A treasure ship headed for Spain was on the sea. He didn’t know if that was the same ship as the one he wanted, but it was sailing in the right direction. And his ship was fast enough to catch any other ship on the open water. He knew it. His crew knew it. Now that he had a boat sighted, all he had to do was lay out sail and run it down. “Ready the cannons, Henry.” Crenshaw took a sighting with his telescope. “I want to be ready to shoot the sails as soon as we close. Then we should ready a broadside, for our second shot once we have what we want.” Henry shouted orders for the crew as he advanced down the deck from his captain. Boarding actions would be bloody. The men had to be ready with flintlocks and swords to do away with their victims. The captain believed in no survivors. Anyone captured would be thrown overboard to any shark that followed the blood trail across the Atlantic. They would sail to a friendly port and offload the cargo for as much as they could get for it. Henry had seen a number of actions under Captain Bloody Bill Crenshaw. He had no doubt this one would run exactly as all the others. The captain’s reputation had spread far and wide. Once they ran the colors, the Spanish would probably give up and beg for mercy. Crenshaw wouldn’t give them any except a blade to the neck, or a swim with the fish. He tended to keep the women longer, but eventually they also were killed. Henry watched as the men performed their tasks. They also knew what would happen if they didn’t perform as well as the captain wanted. A blade in the guts was the least horrible thing he might do. “We’re ready to shoot with three of the cannons, Mr. Henry,” said Boynton, the cannon master. “They’re loaded with grape. The other six are ready to shoot through the keel on the Captain’s order.” “Right, Bob.” Henry nodded. “I have to make sure the boarding crew is ready. As soon as we get close enough, tear the sails down.” “We’ll be ready.” Boynton nodded. “You have my word on that.” Henry nodded before gathering a gang of sailors that weren’t needed doing anything else as the Cloud Shark closed on its intended victim. They were already measuring out lengths of rope and securing grapnels. Two men were loading flintlocks and handing them out. They were single shot, but a volley might be enough to overwhelm a defense long enough for blades to be used. The rest depended on luck and skills. Once they were on the other ship, they would either secure it, or lose. They had no choice. The captain would be behind them, ready to shoot anyone who tried to retreat from a bigger force. Bloody Bill had earned his nom de guerre handily. And his reputation was such that he could inspire men to walk to their own execution rather than face him in a duel. Henry readied his boarders at the rails. Once they were side by side, the hooks had to be thrown to secure both ships together. Then they would jump the rails to board. “Run the colors,” shouted the Captain. He stood in the bow, telescope to his eye. The Cloud Shark’s black flag ran up the mast. A white shark smiled on it with jagged teeth. Anyone who saw that flag knew they weren’t long for this world. The banner was as famous as the Captain. Crenshaw spread stories when he was in port to build its reputation. Scaring people so they made mistakes was better than letting them think they could fight back. Henry had been a part of a few boarding actions that had not gone the way they should have. Losing an ear had caused him to be more cautious than the average outlaw they had onboard. “Ready the cannons!,” ordered the Captain. His shout was relayed to Boynton down in the hold. “Ready the lines!” Henry stood at the rail. This should be an easy raid. He held a flintlock in his hand. He liked to shoot the enemy captain before the man could rally his sailors to repulse the boarders. The Cloud Shark closed on the ship. Henry waited patiently for the two ships to get close enough so he could get started with his part of the job. The Maria Santos glowed on the stern. A man stood in the stern watching the approaching pirates. Henry didn’t like the way he seemed to be smiling at them as they closed together. What did the man think was going to happen when they got close enough to board? He would be the first man fed to the sharks. The Spaniard pulled a length of rope from his belt. He had a hook tied to one end. He started spinning the hook as he watched the pirates close. Then he flung the hook directly at the bow of the Shark. It hooked to the rail with that one throw. Henry ran toward the bow. They had planned to board the other boat, but it looked like their prey planned to board them first. One shot should fix that problem. The other man swung from his boat toward the Shark. He pulled himself up the line as he flew through the air. He landed against the hull with both feet planted. Then he punched through the hull with his fist. Henry paused. Wood fell into the ocean as the Spaniard plunged into the hold of the ship. Then he heard screaming from below. This was wrong. What should he do? “What was that?” Crenshaw headed for the ladder to the hold. He held a brace of pistols in his hands as he ran across the deck. He couldn’t allow his reputation to be ruined by one man. A man screamed below decks. The sound made Henry pause as he tried to join his captain. Crenshaw hurried down the ladder after tucking one of the pistols away. He would deal with this boarder who didn’t know his place. Henry ran to the top of the ladder. He tucked his pistol away in his sash, and slid down the ladder. He waited for his vision to adjust to the dark before he did anything else. Boynton slammed into the deck beside him and lay there. The Spaniard appeared with a white sword in his hand. It glowed like lightning. He blocked Crenshaw’s blade while punching another man in the face. The sailor went down without a working jaw. Henry pulled his flintlock. He needed to get rid of this man so they could get back to raiding their victim. They would have to move the crew to the other boat with the hole in the bow. It was a miracle they hadn’t started taking on water yet. That wouldn’t last long if they ran into rough seas. Henry pulled the trigger on the flintlock. An explosion of smoke sent the ball at his enemy. The man stepped out of the way, slicing the captain across the chest as he moved. Crenshaw fell back from the slash, blood running down his shirt. “I have been looking for the famous Captain Crenshaw for some time.” The Spaniard advanced across the deck, sword glowing in his hand. “You have murdered many, and I can’t allow that to continue.” Henry pulled his sword and tried to slash this enemy. The captain could defend himself. What would happen to the first mate if he didn’t try to do something? “You are in my way.” The Spaniard blocked the cut, directing the blade away from his body. His other hand came up as he spun. Henry went down from the slap. “El Rey doesn’t have time for you today.” Crenshaw tried to stab his enemy in the back. That was the proper way of dealing with enemies. The Spaniard, El Rey, spun to let the point of the blade pass by. He kicked the pirate in the chest. Bloody Bill landed close to the hole in the bow. He looked out for a moment at the sea lapping at the edge of the hole. He scrabbled for his sword. He couldn’t lose now. “I have been looking for you for a long time, Capitan Crenshaw.” El Rey kicked the ladder from the upper deck. Some of the crew fell to the deck. He kicked them out of the way so he could keep advancing. “I don’t understand.” Crenshaw grasped his sword and levered himself to his feet. “I don’t know you. What’s this about?” “I have been commissioned to kill pirates.” El Rey flicked the white blade he carried. A scar on his forehead was a lightning bolt in reflected light. “You have been raiding for a time. Once I put a stop to you, I can move on to others.” “You think I will be beaten that easily?” Crenshaw drew his pistol and fired in one swift motion. He heard the ball ricochet, but hadn’t been able to follow its flight with his eyes. “I don’t see why not.” El Rey advanced. “I’ve killed so many. One more won’t matter to me now.” Crenshaw and El Rey exchanged blows with their swords slicing the air as they moved. The pirate tried to get away from the hole in the bow of his ship. He didn’t want to be pushed into the water. Fins were cruising the surface as he watched. Crenshaw charged forward, hoping to bull through his opponent. A fist stopped that. Then he felt the bones in his face twist slightly. Pain shot from the boot print on his face. “Adios, Capitan.” El Rey grabbed the pirate and slung him through the hole into the water beyond. The sharks outside went into a frenzy as Crenshaw fell into their midst. His blood from his wound attracted them to him. Then they began to bite and tear. El Rey pulled his sword down the deck as he walked to the rear of the hold. He had to get back above to the main deck before he went into the water with the pirates. Crenshaw’s disappearance would be a mystery to the rest of the world. Only he and his crew would know why the attacks had ceased. He climbed the ladder as the hull separated behind him. He leaped on the top deck and looked around. What remained of the crew looked at him in anger. His ship floated next to the soon to be scuttled pirate ship with riflemen on deck and cannon ready to fire. El Rey smiled at the pirates as he walked to the rail. He leaped over the gap to his own deck. He waved the man at the wheel to steer away from the Cloud Shark. His job was done, or soon would be thanks to the sharks in the water. He watched as the Cloud Shark slowly coasted under. The men went to dinghies and dropped them into the water. They unshipped oars and began rowing away from the sinking craft, and the Spanish ship. Maybe they could make it to a shore and live. It was a chance. Certain death was what waited for them if they stayed with the Shark. Fins followed the little boats as they made their way from the scene. “Should we sink them, sir?” Juan Hernandez, the first mate of the Maria Santos, looked at the escaping boats. “No. I want to see how many return to being pirates after this.” The King smiled. 33,527

M-37's First Flight 1997- Shirou Mirota pointed an index finger at a cardboard target. The target blew up. He worked his way down a line of targets that flipped up when he approached. He paused when he thought he had blown up the last one. He felt a little more normal despite his increase in ability. The coating the Institute had developed seemed to be working as intended. A few minutes of blowing things up on the target range and he hadn’t sprung a leak yet. And the sensors hadn’t sounded the alarm. That meant he was safe at his current expenditure of power. His new biology made it difficult to judge, but he felt like he had jogged a mile. He wondered how long he could keep shooting beams of fire before he actually exceeded a limit. At least inside the Institute, he would know when he was a danger to others. If he sprung a leak, an alarm would go off. Then sprayers would drop a chemical radiation absorber on him. Then all he had to do was wait for a mobile room to take him back to his quarters. He might be able to get some sleep if this kept up. It might be nice to dream again. His new condition had eliminated the desire and need to sleep, food ingestion, and most normal bodily functions. The lab people suspected that was because of the metal and energy conduits buried in his body. It was hard to be hungry when your heart was a nuclear battery guaranteed to run for another two hundred years. He briefly wondered what he could do when his battery eventually ran out of power. Another target popped up in his face. His hand came up. The target blew apart under the heat wave he generated. Shirou paused. Then he looked around. Hopefully, no one had noticed the blast. He needed to work on that. He didn’t want to throw around enough power to cut through the range. That might hit someone in some other part of the building. He didn’t want to kill someone on top of everything else he was trying to fix. A siren went off. He looked around. What was going on? What should he do? Did something need to be blasted? “Emergency teams report to launch pads.” Misa sounded panicked over the PA system. “We have had a major earthquake. Emergency teams report to launch pads.” Shirou frowned. At one time, he would have been grabbing gear and running to the pads. The Institute responded to major disasters all over the country, and he would have been in the middle of the action. Now he was stuck in the building, hoping that his makeover wouldn’t cause him to blow up if he was stressed enough. He walked to the exit. Maybe he could use this as cover so he could get out in the field again. It might be good to get his hands dirty again after spending so much time trapped in his room. All he had to do was get out of the building and fly to the disaster area. He decided it was a lot easier to think of doing it, then it would be in doing since Security would want him to stay put. He thought he could punch through them if he wanted. The problem was he didn’t want to do anything like that. They would be in the right. His power was largely untested, and one wrong move could have him spilling radiation on anyone and anything close to him. Maybe he could join the crews heading for the helicopters. He would have to be fast and blend in until they reached the scene. Shirou decided to take the stairs to the hangar level. He flew up the six levels and paused by the door. He put in his code to open the door to get on the floor. The large doors were sliding open to let the aircraft hover up and then head toward the emergency. He noted several people were pointing at him. He had to do something if he wanted to get free. He looked up at the exit. Then he was gone from the hangar in a blast of wind. Shirou smiled. Dr. Yamada would not like his violating the safety guidelines. He would deal with that when he had to. Now he needed to find out where the disaster was and see what he could do to help out. He should have taken the time to find out those facts before taking to the air. He flew toward the city. The Institute’s grounds were outside the city, but within sight. He knew there was a news feed running on some of the signs in the shopping areas. He just had to find one, and see where this earthquake was. Then he could fly down to see if he could lend a hand. Shirou found the Sony large screen right where it had sat before his self-exile. He landed on the sidewalk in front of it and watched as news unfurled in front of him. Three minutes in, the broadcaster talked about the heavy destruction in Kochi. It was miles to the southwest of Tokyo, the Institute’s base city. How fast could he fly? That was a question he had never really asked himself. How fast could this new form go in the sky? He looked to the southwest. The Institute and the DF would be on the way to the area. Could he beat them? Did he want to? Shirou smiled. Yes, he did want to beat them to the scene. He headed into the sky. He willed himself to go faster. He passed the Institute, and kept going. Helicopters were in the sky ahead of him. He went around them instead of tearing through their formation. He didn’t want them to crash just because he had slipped his leash. He reached Kochi a few seconds later. He hovered over the scene, trying to figure out where he could start. Several buildings had collapsed around what looked like a fissure. He decided the best thing he could do was try to move some of the debris away from the town. People might have been trapped in the collapses. The faster he could dig them out, the less other rescuers had to do. He landed quietly beside a mound of rubble. He wished he had super senses to go with the rest of the powers the liquid had given him. Too bad a x-ray machine had not been in the room when he had been forcibly transformed. He decided that out of the options he had, blasting everything was out. He didn’t want to cause a collapse on someone waiting for rescue, or blow them up. That left his strength and physically moving things with his hands, or the gravity control he used for flight. Gravity seemed the safest to use until an expert showed up to give him a more efficient way of doing things. Shirou concentrated. Rubble floated upward. He worked his way around the closest pile until he had a majority orbiting a central gravity. He found some people at the bottom of the pit. He smiled when one of them took in a breath. He moved his wrecked building to a cleared spot and gently put it down. He pulled the wounded from the excavation with his power before setting them down out of the way. He headed for the next pile of rock to start excavating there. People were on the scene, trying to help him. He waved for them to move back. He didn’t want to lose control over the gravity and hurt them or anyone buried under the ground. One wrong move could bury someone under a unknown weight with no way of digging them back up. He didn’t need that on his conscience to go with whatever risks he was undertaking just being there. The helicopters arrived as he worked his way through another pile. Dr. Yamada jumped from his vehicle before it could settle on its skids. He held a Gieger counter in his hand. It barely registered anything in the air. “What are you doing?” Yamada placed the counter on the ground. “I am digging up anyone buried that I can.” Shirou moved his turning ring over to another area and let go. Hopefully, his powers were making a difference. “How big an effect can you do with your powers?” Yamada glanced at the counter. Everything was normal according to it. “I don’t know.” Shirou looked around. How much could he move at one time? He had never thought how much he could move at one time. Maybe he could move everything at once. “Workers are coming in to help us.” Yamada noted the helicopters. “Can you move all of this rubble to a safe spot as you’ve been doing with the smaller piles?” “I don’t know.” Shirou held up his hands. “I think you might want to clear the area while I try.” Shirou closed his eyes and concentrated. He had never tried to expand his powers over such a large scale before. He might break himself in the attempt. Dr. Yamada was right. He had to work better than what he had been doing. He felt energy running through his body as he tried to clear his head. He could do this. He could move everything. He was a star. Everything shaped itself to his bidding. He smiled at the energy activating from his battery heart. He opened his eyes. Why was everything so small? He raised a hand and compared it to a nearby building. He was a giant. He closed his hand. He was a giant, and he still had a job to do. He just had to be more careful than what he had planned to be. Could he move everything? Yes, he could. 31,561

Testing for M-37 1996- “Good morning, Shirou.” Dr. Yamada walked into the secured room. He wore a protective suit and helmet. His subject still leaked radiation in the air a year after his unwanted transformation. The Institute was still trying to find a way to stop that so he could be safe to be around. No one wanted to work with a source of cancer and poisoning. “You said you had some things to tell me.” Shirou Mirota hovered off the floor, sitting on the air. Shields covered his eyes, while the protective suit he had worn when he penetrated the sample sphere from the Ninety Two Rampage had become his second skin. “We think we have a way to block your radiation leak so you can go outside for limited times.” Yamada sat down on the floor. Chairs and other furniture were absent from the room. Shirou didn’t need them, and didn’t want them since his body slowly cooked them away. No one wanted a reminder they weren’t human anymore. “Seriously?” Shirou grinned. “How do you plan to do that?” “We believe that we have devised a coating that we can use as a cover on you.” Yamada placed his hands together. “We don’t know how effective it would be, but felt it would allow you to leave this room and not kill everything around you.” “When do you want to test this coating?” Shirou already saw several flaws in the plan. He decided to file them while the experiment went ahead. He was ready to leave his unwanted home to do anything but stare at the same four walls day after day. Even reading, or watching televison, or trying to find things on the Internet, was governed by a screen set up behind a protective shield so he didn’t fry the circuits trying to use it. Waldos enabled him to manipulate what he was looking at without allowing him to leave the heavy shielding of his room. It would be nice to see the world with his own eyes again. “We are making the first batch downstairs.” Dr. Yamada nodded at his expression. “It might need some fine-tuning and testing in controlled areas, but we are confident that we can make you safe around other people.” “What about the rest of this?” Shirou indicated his body with a wave of his hand. “Can you reverse any of this?” “We don’t know.” Yamada wanted to have a more comforting assessment of his employee’s welfare. All of the experts he had consulted had no clue on how to reverse the alchemy performed on Morita. “Dr. Haas’s workings are indecipherable. Dr. Craft and others are searching for him, but he has kept his head down after what he did here.” Dr. Craft led the Robot Rangers. Shirou had met him and his mechanical minions when they had arrived to save the city. He made it seem like he and Haas were old enemies. How long had they been feuding before the apartment building man had come to life? “The thing made me into a monster.” Shirou glowed slightly. “If you hadn’t arrived with that gravity gun, I would be a mindless thing attacking everyone around me.” “You aren’t.” Yamada frowned. “The focus has to be on making you better with what we have. We know that the holy water damaged the shell and the liquid that was transforming you, but it doesn’t do anything to you the way you are now. We know that you can fly, are strong, and release radiation. Some of the scientists that are helping with this coat think you can learn how to turn the radiation into some kind of controlled beam.” “They think I can fry something on demand?” Shirou raised eyebrows. “Like some kind of laser beam shooting out of my eyes.” “They think so.” Yamada nodded. “The question is one of control. There might be a process inside of you that allows that. I might have destroyed the control when I used the gravity gun.” “So what do they expect me to do?,” asked Shirou. “I don’t know.” Dr. Yamada shook his head. “I don’t want you to do anything until we apply the coating and see if the base does anything. Then if you want to experiment, we’ll have some kind of dampener in place.” “Do you think this will work?” Shirou didn’t. He didn’t know what the source of his radiation was, but he doubted any coating would stop it. “I don’t know.” Yamada stood. “I do know that you are in a prison and could have mental problems unless we do something. So I am going to try to do something for you. If it helps others in the same circumstances, that is just a bonus as far as I am concerned.” “I understand.” Shirou nodded. Dr. Yamada and his people worked on strange mysteries. They had found some answers. Those answers had been used to stop other problems from other sources. This was one of those things that could be used for a lot of things that people would never know about unless it failed in some way. If cutting his effect down worked, they could use it other places to mitigate radiation problems. The door buzzed. Yamada went over and looked through the glass into the airlock outside the door. He nodded. “I’m going to open the door and let the others in,” said Dr. Yamada. “Then we are going to apply the coating and see what the base does on contact with you.” “Go ahead.” Shirou waved a hand. “I want to see what this does.” Yamada opened the door. Two technicians entered the room. One wheeled a tank with a hose on a dolly. The other had a cart of sensory equipment. They both wore full suits to prevent a lethal dose of poisoning from their subject. “Recording the base setting.” The technician at the controls flipped some switches, looked at the numbers and the graphs rolling out on strings of paper. “This is way too high.” “Applying the coating.” The other technician pointed the hose on the tank at Shirou. He turned the knob all the way open, then pulled the trigger-handle to let the paint out. Shirou barely felt the impact. He turned under the spray. He sank to the floor as the coating stuck to him, a few streaks dropping to the metal surface. He felt cooler. “I feel better.” Shirou lifted his arms as more of the paint fell on him. “I feel almost normal.” “The temperature and rads are dropping.” The sensory equipment showed flatter lines on its output. “Pour it all on?” The first technician checked the gauge on the tank as he kept the stream of liquid flowing. “Yes.” Yamada nodded inside his helmet. “We want him completely covered so we can see if this is working as planned.” Shirou closed his eyes. The coat seemed to be cooling him off as it cut the radiation from the room. He might be able to go outside again. That would be better than looking at pictures on a screen. He knew he would never touch anything with his real hands again. The altered suit and this paint put that to an end. How damaged was he now? He had heard the reports and seen graphs. He had never considered the fact that two of his senses worked as far as he knew. He didn’t know about taste and smell. Would they still work as usual? Was sight and hearing all he had left? At least he might still be able to fly as long as he took it slow and easy. Dropping radiation on the citizens of Japan while he imitated birds would be frowned upon by the government. He knew from some of the scuttlebutt he heard that the Ministry wanted to test him to see how well he held up to their examinations. He was sure that anything major would cause an event. And he didn’t want anyone probing his guts on the chance they might find out how to make more like him. Who wanted to lose their humanity to be living weapons? How much were they willing to give up for their transformations? He knew it was something he wouldn’t want people he hated to have to go through. “We might have done it, Doctor.” The second man raised a fist. “Everything is reading what it would be for a normal irradiated room.” “Tank’s empty.” The other man turned the knob to cut off the flow. “Is it holding?” “So far, so good.” The second man nodded. He held up the printing line as it rolled through his hand to the floor. Dr. Yamada frowned as he walked over and examined the readings. Everything looked good for the moment. What happened if the paint failed? “We need to run tests to make sure the paint will keep working.” Yamada nodded. “We need to know what happens if Shirou exerts himself.” “Shirou, see if you can fly with the coating on.” The technician pulled the tank back to the inner door of the airlock. “That’s the simplest test we can give him right now.” Shirou willed himself into the air. He floated gently as he always did. “The count is up some, but it’s still lower than without the coating.” The second technician laughed. “This is great.” “No,” said Dr. Yamada. “It’s peeling with the trivial exertion he is doing. Land Shirou. Let’s see if that will stop the coating’s degradation.” Shirou landed. He checked his hands. Small scales showed through the paint job. He sighed. At least he didn’t have his hopes up for a solution. “May I?,” asked Yamada. He held out a hand. Shirou extended a hand. The doctor took it and looked over both sides. He nodded. “We need a little more work on the formula, but this is better than I expected.” “I don’t understand.” Shirou took the hand back and looked it over. “This looks like a failure to me.” “No.” Yamada shook his head. “Your body heated up at the extremities when we asked you to fly and cooked the coating at those places. The torso coating is still there, and blocking a portion of the radiation. We just need to get the formula to resist the effects of your powers in your limbs. Once we do that, we can work on actual tests so you can get out of here without killing anyone.” “I am all for that plan.” Shirou nodded. 29904

Just got back from Despicable Me 3. Favorite parts were the opening heist, the minions on stage, and the dance battle at the end. CES

M-37 1995- Shirou Morita frowned at the globe in the cradle in front of him. Liquid stirred at the bottom of the sphere, but the covering only revealed the contents as a sound. How could he examine the contents without touching anything? The sphere, dull and gray, had been recovered from the scene of the living building attack three years ago. The Robot Rangers and three new heroines had been on the scene. They had stopped the rampage from reaching the central precincts of the city. A lot of people had been hurt and killed, but more had been saved. During the cleaning up of the damage, one of the defense force soldiers had found the globe and boxed it up for study. That was why three years later Shirou thought a laser could be used to poke a hole in the cover so he could look inside. Once he knew what was inside, he could start testing it. Shirou fitted the cradle underneath the emitter. He dialed the power down. He wanted a small hole, not a through and through wound. The liquid had to remain inside the shell so he could avoid contamination of the lab. Of course if he messed up, he was as good as dead. The thing had been one of the motivating power sources for a giant humanoid building. If it activated like it had previously, the first person it would seize for power would be him. He didn’t want to be a battery for something that might take over his place of work and kill all of his coworkers. Only the coworkers he didn’t like should be killed. Shirou pulled on his goggles. He looked one more time around the lab. He was locked in and unless the orb activated, the doors should be enough to keep things in if things went wrong. He checked the laser one more time, then the cradle. One shot was all he had. He flipped the switch. The laser cut on with its characteristic whine. The beam burned through the gray shell slowly. He cut the power as soon as he was through the shell. He paused before taking the next step. He had to take a look inside the hole to make sure he hadn’t cooked the contents. Then he could move the cradle to a safe room to study everything and take samples. He hoped that he had something to study. Dr. Yamada had given the thing to him. If he failed, he would be out of a job, and someone else would be trying to figure out what the thing was. Any position in his field would be out of the question if he lost his job at the Institute. No one would hire someone who couldn’t do basic tests without causing problems and getting fired. Shirou pulled the cradle from under the emitter. He didn’t want the thing to drill a hole in his head while he was moving to the next step. He looked inside the hole to make sure the contents were unharmed. The goo inside the shell struck for him as he leaned over the orb. He screamed as it covered his face and the collar of his protective suit. He staggered away. He was definitely going to get fired now. Shirou tried to calm down. His face was covered with the active ingredient of the orb. He was still alive. All he had to do was get it off somehow. It would help if his exposed skin wasn’t telling him his face was being flayed from his skull. At least none of the stuff had gotten inside of him. That would be worse than the problem he had at the moment. Shirou staggered to the wall. He pressed the button to sound the alarm. He also pressed the switch that shut the room down. The stuff couldn’t get loose no matter what it did to him first. He made his way to a field cleaning unit built in the wall. If he could use that to get the stuff off his face, he might have a chance to live. A rumble turned his head to look at the laser. It was the only thing in the room that might be dangerous to him, and the contaminant. Then it came apart into component parts. “Oh, no.” Shirou ran to the cleaning unit. He had to get the stuff off of him. He was about to be turned into a living weapon to escape the labs and the building. Pain ran up his spine. He fell to the floor. He tried to reach the lever for the cleaner. If he could pull that, he might have a chance. He didn’t want to kill anybody. His spine cracked and he curled up in a fetal position. Dr. Yamada would cleanse the room and examine his remains to find out what had gone wrong. The stuff may, or may not, be killed by the radiation. Either way, he was a weapon that would be destroyed, or killed before he became a danger to the others. Changes worked their way through his body. Everything was pain. He didn’t bother screaming because his vocal cords had given out. Then radiation flooded the room. Shirou laid where he had fallen. The radiation wasn’t killing him. It was allowing the yolk to build more skills in his body so he could be taken for a rampage through the city. How did he stop it? He had to get up. He had to do something. How did he save the city, possibly the country? Shirou’s hand closed on the egg. He looked at it. It meant nothing to him. It certainly wasn’t going to help him. The egg expanded wrapping around him and his new machine parts. He tried to fight it off, but it formed a cocoon that bound his limbs together. It dropped to the floor, ten times as big as when he had punched the hole in it. “Can you hear me, Shirou?,” said Dr. Yamada. The radio must till be working for Shirou to hear his voice. “Can you talk?” “Stay away!” Shirou couldn’t make himself shout loud enough. “Stay out of here!” If they came into the room, they were as good as dead. He had to do something. What could he do? He had to stand. He had to take control of things. If he didn’t try, someone would do something stupid. And the last thing he needed was someone doing something stupid. Shirou decided he had to stand. He had to get out of the egg. Then he could worry about the other alterations to his body. He already knew he was as good as dead. He might as well try to get some good out of this. He struck at the egg as best he could with his hands. His limited mobility made it hard for him to do anything more than push hard. The shell rolled slightly as he struggled. He braced himself as much as he could and kicked. The egg rolled some more, but it didn’t crack. He kicked again. The shell wrapped around his leg. He tried to pull back. The wrapping went with him. He paused in uncertainty. What did this mean? He realized the pain had settled down to a dull roar. He couldn’t decide if that was good, or not. The shell collapsed around the rest of his body. He felt compression as the thing shrank over his holed protective suit. Images filled his mind as a hose entered his ear. He turned his head and pulled on the wet strand with his teeth. Was this how the people in the apartment building felt as they were stabbed and used up? Other hoses tried to fill his ears. He yanked his head away from them as much as possible. He couldn’t let them seize control of his brain. He had to fight the thing off. “Shirou.” Dr. Yamada sounded close. He sounded too close. “Keep away, Dr. Yamada!” Shirou felt the tubes going in his ears. “Don’t let me out of this room! Don’t let me live!” “I want you to calm down.” Dr. Yamada sounded in his ear. “The changes you have been experiencing have been going on for hours. We just now found a way to communicate with you. Do you understand?” “It’s not safe.” Shirou tried to slip his hands out of the sleeves to pull the tubes out of his head. “This thing is trying to implant itself in my head.” “I want you to remain as still as you can.” Dr. Yamada sounded way too calm. Shouldn’t he be losing his nerves right now. He could be the next victim if things go wrong. “We’re going to try to get you out of that thing.” “What are you going to do?” Shirou hoped the procedure saved the city. He knew he had taken a fatal dose of radiation. “We’re going to use the gravity gun we recovered from Dr. Pluto’s attack sub.” Dr. Yamada whispered something. “Close your eyes and count to ten.” Shirou started counting. He had thought the gravity gun was off-line. How had they gotten it to work? He wished he could see through the shell over his head. When he reached five, he heard a buzzing. The shell over his head vaporized. He took a deep breath of air. He was alive. How was that possible? He looked around. A robot had been pushed into the room. A computer screen with Dr. Yamada’s face on it had been installed in its chest. The gravity gun had been installed on a turret so the robot served as its firing platform. Tentacles from inside the egg grabbed the robot. They took the thing apart and began inserting combinations into Shirou. He screamed once, but the pain wasn’t the same as the initial pain when he first started his transformation. “The thing is turning me into a monster.” Shirou hoped Dr. Yamada could still hear him. “Kill me before it figures out how to get to the general population.” “I think we have a cure.” Dr. Yamada spoke from the radio speaker. “I’m coming in.” “Stop.” Shirou couldn’t lift his head. At least nothing was trying to get into his ears. “This is way too dangerous, Dr. Yamada.” The door cycled open. Dr. Yamada stepped into the room. He wore a protective suit like Shirou’s own. He held a vial in one gloved hand. The tentacles reached for Yamada to meld him with his employee. The doctor opened the vial and threw it on Shirou. Smoke roiled from where it struck. Cracks ran down the front of the shell. Then it broke open. “Don’t move.” Yamada held up a hand. “You have been altered in a way that could still be dangerous to others. I want you to stay here while we think of some way to help you.” “I don’t know if I can.” Shirou realized he was floating in the air. “What’s going on with me?” “You are still giving off radiation.” Yamada held up both hands. “We don’t know what else is going on.” “Why aren’t I dead?” Shirou raised his hands. Light flicked through his flesh from where gloves used to be. “What have I become?” “I don’t know.” Yamada shook his head. “We’re going to have to do some tests to see if we can reverse what happened. You might be isolated for a time until we can think of a cure for the radiation.” 28141

Splinter Cell 2015- Mark Hadron and Jane Hillsmierer frowned at the big screen set up in the lab part of the building. They had plugged in the various sensors that Hadron and his friends had designed to measure the ambient energy in the air. They frowned because that energy was higher than what it should have been according to readings done the year before when the Lamplighters were in business. “What do you think is causing this?” Jane waved at the loci represented on the screen. “I don’t know.” Hadron rubbed his temples with both hands. “Only the gate for the Mark’s tower looks steady. Every other point is going up. It might be another event on the way.” “Another Destroyer?” Jane had been with the team then. They had forced a monstrous being back across a dimensional border to its home address. It had taken everything they had to deal with the monster. “It looks like.” Hadron turned from the screen. “Something is trying to reach us from outside. No wonder Nobody issued a warning.” “How do we stop it?,” asked Jane. “What happens if it actually reaches the city?” “It starts changing reality and eating the citizens of New York.” Hadron shrugged. “I’m glad that’s not my problem.” “It will be your problem if we can’t nip this in the bud, mister.” Jane wanted him to face her, but he refused to look at her with his one surviving eye. The doorbell rang. Milton had installed the closest thing he could find to ‘Shave And a Haircut’ to be obnoxious. The five notes had quickly gotten less funny as the years rolled on. “I wonder who that is.” Hadron made no move to check who was at the front door. “Are you going to answer it?” Jane put her hands on her hips. “We’re closed,” said Hadron as the doorbell rang again. “Fine. I’ll see what these people want.” Hadron walked down the central steps to the ground floor. The bottom floor was for the Lamp Mobile, and its maintenance, and the office space the business required. The car had been lost when he lost his eye. The office was covered in dust from disuse. He opened the door for people beside the garage door. He looked out at four women. He took a moment to absorb their features and dress. Then he said, “Go away.” He slammed the door in their faces and turned to walk away. One of the women pressed the doorbell again before he could take a step back to the central staircase. He opened the door and looked out on the women. One of them smiled at him, waving her hand. The other hand was close to the door bell. “We’re closed.” Hadron glared at the woman and her hand with his single eye. “Do not press that door bell again. Go away.” “We really do need your help, Dr. Hadron.” The woman dropped her hand. “I’m Patty, that’s Kathy, Jean, and Lin. We have a major ghost problem in San Fran and our first thought was to talk to you, but the phone is dead, and we couldn’t find anywhere you used an email, or Facebook, or Twitter. So we came here in person to ask you to help us.” “The answer is no.” Hadron started to slam the door again, but the woman had pushed against it to keep it open. “Do you mind?” “We need that help, Dr. Hadron.” Patty pulled out her phone. “I feel that when you see the footage, you will understand why we came all this way. We just want five minutes of your time, and maybe some technical guidance on how to stop the thing. We want to go into business as Lamplighters, and this could be the first chance we get to do that.” Hadron couldn’t close the door with her standing in the way. He wondered if he should punch her in the mouth so she would back up. “Being a Lamplighter killed my friends and cost me an eye.” Hadron bunched his hand into a fist so he could punch her. “Are you sure you’re willing to lose the same?” “Something has to be done.” Patty looked at her friends. They nodded at her to continue. “You’re the only one with experience who can help us.” “Let’s see your footage.” Hadron opened his hand and held it out to her. He knew he was letting himself in for trouble. He couldn’t help the impulse. She pushed the button for the phone to play the video before she handed it over. The screen was full of screaming people, and a laughing ghost dressed like a pirate. He waved his sword to direct ghost sharks into the crowd. “I wondered where he went after our last blow-up.” Hadron dialed the video back and froze it. “When did this happen?” “Two weeks ago.” Patty looked at her friends for support. “We have been trying to get in touch with you ever since. Finally we drove out here. Took turns, drove through the night to get here.” “This is the ghost you want to take on for your first case?,” asked Hadron. “Are you sure about that?” “We wouldn’t have come all this way if we weren’t.” A Hispanic lady with short parrot colored hair and a tattoo of a star on her face spoke. “How tough can this be?” Hadron smiled at her. The group stepped back. The smile didn’t suit the scarred face or the trace of gray in his hair. “Come in.” Hadron stepped out of their way. “Wait right here.” He left them inside the empty space for the car. He whistled as he jogged up the stairs, pulling himself along with one hand on the rail. “Hey, Jane! These idiots want to take on Crenshaw!” drifted from the upper floor. “Where did I leave the old Fireflash? Do you remember?” “I ain’t no idiot.” The Hispanic Jean glared at the staircase. “Who’s Crenshaw?,” asked Lin. She was slighter and shorter than her three friends, dark hair in a bun, worried expression on her face. “What are we getting into here, Patty?” “I have no idea, but I am sure it’s not really that dangerous.” Patty shrugged. “These are ghosts. We should be able to stop this one with the right equipment.” “This guy didn’t seem like he thought it was harmless.” Kathy waved her hand at the staircase. “He acted like he was going to enjoy sending us into the lion’s den.” Kathy was the tallest, and had been on several fitness magazine covers. The chance to change jobs for something more interesting was sharing space with not wanting to rush into danger. Not rushing into danger was winning by her expression. Hadron returned with several boxes of equipment. He put the boxes down on the floor. He was still smiling. “Ordinarily I would never send a bunch of rank amateurs against someone like Bloody Bill Crenshaw, Demon Pirate.” Hadron grinned at them now. “In your cases, I will make an exception. This way none of you will bother me again.” “This is a common sensor.” Hadron opened one of the boxes. A device with a handle and a spot for a laser pointer rested inside. He took the sensor out of the box. “Point and press the button. A reading will show up. Crenshaw is in the eight range. Anything over that is not Crenshaw.” He pressed the button on the handle. A blue flame shone from the other end. He showed them the reading. They were all twos and threes like he thought. He put the sensor back in the box. He opened the next one and pulled out a lamp. He lit the fuse inside. Blue flame glowed inside the cylinder. “This is the power box that operates all the weapons that I have loaded for you.” Hadron tilted the lantern so they could see the plug on the bottom. “You hang it from a support belt and let it do the rest.” “What happens if the fire goes out?,” Kathy asked. “Depends.” Hadron blew the flame out and put the lamp back in its carrying case. “If I were you, I would be more worried about what happens if the flame is overpowered.” “What happens if the flame is overpowered?,” asked Lin. Hadron made a poof noise and spread his hands to mimic an explosion. “Now this is the Fireflash.” Hadron opened two of the boxes. He pulled out the parts and fitted them together. “Just point and shoot.” The Fireflash was as long as Patty was tall. She looked at it with a wince. “Do you have something smaller than this?” She waved at the huge rifle. “Do we need a bazooka to take on this Crenshaw?” “Have you ever taken on a ghost that can summon a swarm of sharks that can chew you to pieces in a matter of seconds?” Hadron held the weapon out for her to take. “What do you think is going to happen when he gets mad that you’re in his way?” He made a chomping noise with his mouth. “Now I’m going to help you load this up, and send you on your way.” Hadron gestured for the Fireflash. “Good luck with Crenshaw. Don’t let him take you prisoner. He likes the ladies.” “Likes the ladies?,” Lin asked. “A lot.” Hadron took the Fireflash. He took it apart and stowed the pieces in their boxes. “He’s a ghost.” Jean frowned at Hadron. “What do you mean he likes the ladies a lot?” “He’s a pirate, and he likes booty,” Hadron straightened. “Make the connection. You can do it.” “Mark, can we talk?” Jane descended down the stairs. “Over here.” “Sure, Janie.” Hadron put on a smile. “These ladies stopped by to borrow equipment to take on Bloody Bill Crenshaw, Demon Ghost Pirate. Ladies, this is Jane Hillsmeirer. If you want someone to inform your families what happened and pay for your funerals, talk to Jane before you leave.” “Mark, are you serious?” Janie glanced at their visitors over his shoulder. “Crenshaw will eat them alive. You can’t send them out after him. You have to look into this.” “My dance card is booked, Janie.” Hadron didn’t keep his voice down. “Crenshaw is a perfect starter case for some new Lamplighters. They’ll be fine.” “I’m putting my foot down, Mark Hadron.” Jane glared at him. “You know what Crenshaw does to women. We’re not sending a bunch of women after him.” Hadron made a face. “You’re wrecking my ploy of scaring them away and leaving things to professionals.” He kept his voice down. “I don’t want them facing Crenshaw either. I also don’t want to be around them.” “You need a back-up team.” Jane rubbed her forehead. “This could be it.” “I don’t need a team since we’re closed for business.” Mark reverted to his loud voice. “And these ladies live far away, thank goodness.” “I want you to go with them.” Jane held up a hand. “You need to get back into the groove. I’ll look around for locals to build another team. We’ll get things started back up again.” “Recruits will have to be given tests.” Mark did not clench his hand into a fist. “Otherwise, they won’t be able to use the equipment.” “You were going to send them out without the tests.” Jane waved her hand at the visitors. “What is that?” “They have twos and threes on the scale.” Hadron looked at the floor. “The Fireflash will work like a charm for them.” “You ran a sensor scan on them to make sure you could send them to their deaths?” Jane squinted at him with her displeasure. “Seriously?” “When you say it like that, it sounds bad,” said Hadron. “I expect better out of you, mister.” Jane shook her head. “I love you like a brother, but sometimes, I just want to punch you in the face.” “And what do you think we should do with these problem children?,” said Hadron. “We give them a chance.” Jane shook her head. “A fair chance.” “Ladies, pull your car into the bay here.” Jane waved a hand. “We’ll get things sorted out for you.” “I don’t know if we want to be all that much trouble.” Patty wrapped her hands together to keep from wringing them. “Maybe we should go. That way it won’t be much of a bother.” “Pull the car in.” Jane’s voice was iron. “We’ll negotiate the rest over takeout.”

It looks like the Old Man won this one. Good job on that with your human elephants, buddy CES

Several books had lists of what things cost. I don't know if MHI does. If there isn't a list, just look online for prices. One of the characters wants to buy a house, find a listing and use that price for the game. CES

And one of the insurance companies pulled out because they couldn't merge with another company. That's something that should have landed someone in deep water. CES

Master and Servant 2010- Al-a-Din sat in a chair at a table in front of a small café. He sipped tea from a small cup as he watched the street. Despite his age, people still fascinated him, and he liked trying to figure out what another person did by looking at them. Despite losing his hair to time, he still looked much younger than his real age. His skin was pulled across his flesh, and held none of the blemishes that usually came. His hazel eyes still gleamed when they examined something of interest. His butler stood at his elbow, wearing the uniform of his position. His black hair covered pointed ears, and the hoop ring in one lobe. A bronze tan looked metallic in the sun. Al-a-Din put his cup down. He looked at a man in a coat heading into a market down the street. He stood. He didn’t like the look of that. “Hakim, be ready.” The old man straightened his jacket with both hands. “I think we might have a problem.” “Understood, Master.” The butler frowned as his master started forward. Al-a-din walked toward the market. He didn’t like the way the man in the coat had looked. He supposed his own dress was just as out of place. He wore the clothes of his youth in what was known as Chixian Shenzshou. Then it had been called something else. The centuries had changed the names several times as others had moved in and taken control. He had taken up residence in Arabia when he had gained the services of his butler. Hakim provided him all he needed, and he used that to help others. It seemed a fair trade to him. Hakim didn’t comment on being stuck with an old man who constantly called on him to do things, but he had implied that he preferred his master doing things to help others instead of enriching himself. The market shook as a cloud of smoke erupted from where the man in the coat went. Al-a-Din paused. The man had bombed the market. He watched as people took cover from following blasts. “Hakim, help the wounded.” He waved at people fleeing the market. “Get them out of the way. I’ll go in and see if I can help inside the zone. Join me when you are done.” “Yes, Master.” Hakim split off to start checking the obviously wounded. Things fixed themselves as he spoke to each person in turn. The old foreigner entered the cloud of smoke. Fire burned some of the products so that he didn’t know what they were before the bombing. He worked his way through the aisles, looking for wounded he could help. He found the man in the coat in a small crater. He was still alive, despite losing both legs. He must have not been wearing the bomb when it went off. “Hello.” Al-a-Din looked for more of the devices before he approached. “It looks like you will die soon. Do you want to talk about this before you pass?” “There is nothing to say.” The man’s breathing was harsh and quick. Blood loss would soon kill him. “I decided to do something about the people I hated.” “That’s a strong statement from a weak man.” Al-a-Din looked around for any survivors close by. It looked like everyone else had been killed, or made their way outside. “Only the weak do something like this.” “What would you know of my struggle?” The man glared at his interrogator. “You are another that needs to be removed from this Earth. The faith demands it.” “We both know different.” Al-a-Din frowned. The man might bleed out before he was taken away to be questioned by the authorities. He found two belts and tied off the stumps at the end of the bomber’s legs. “That should hold you until someone wants to know who you work for, and where he is,” said the old Asian. “You won’t die, and you won’t have your picture in the paper.” “You can’t deny me Heaven!” The bomber tried to reach out to grab his rescuer. “I need to be a martyr to reach it.” “You were never going to be a martyr.” Al-a-Din shook his head. “Someone has to kill you to make you a martyr. Killing others while killing yourself just makes you a suicide. And suicides don’t get into Heaven.” “You’re a liar.” The bomber started crying. “What do you know about the Koran?” “Nothing.” The Asian waved his butler over when he saw the man approaching through the smoke. “Hakim, please push this smoke out of here, and make sure the fire is out. Then make sure this man lives to go to trial.” “Should I repair his legs?” The butler raised an eyebrow at the area where the man had been cut off at the knees. “No,” said Al-a-Din. “He doesn’t deserve to be helped any more than the bare minimum to get him in the hands of the law. After that, what point would it be to give his legs back to him?” “Understood, Master.” Hakim raised his hands. He performed a set of motions and the stumps scabbed over with new flesh covering the jutting of bone that had been in place. “He will live.” “Thank you, Hakim.” Al-a-Din nodded at the work. “He’ll be able to stump on those if he practices enough.” “I’ll kill you for this.” The bomber struggled, but produced a hand gun after a moment. “I will kill you.” Al-a-Din stomped down on his arm. The pistol popped out of the hand holding it. The Asian kicked the bomber in the face. That stopped the invective foaming from the man’s mouth. Another kick stopped the man from trying to stand up under his own power. “A true believer.” Al-a-Din shook his head. “At least he’s stopped for the moment.” “The victims have been healed as far as I can with my abilities, Master.” Hakim nodded toward the grounds outside of the open air pavilion. “I could not save some. They had been killed by the blast because they were standing too close when the bomb went off.” “Do they need transport to the hospitals?” Al-a-Din knew his servant could be literal minded to some extent. It was also a way to double check himself when he did something. “Some.” Hakim shrugged. “The human responders seem to be taking care of that.” “Repair what you can of the area.” Al-a-Din waved at the damaged poles and covers against the Sun. “Then we should turn our prisoner over to the local police.” “It is a small matter.” Hakim made a hand gesture. The place looked like nothing had happened to kill some people there moments before. Only the dead remained where they had fallen when the bomb had gone off. Hakim could do nothing for them. Once someone died, there was no way for him to intercede for the victim to bring him, or her, back, or ask for forgiveness for them. “What do you want done with the dead?,” asked Hakim. He gestured at the scattered limbs that had been sent flying from the pressure wave. “Leave them.” Al-a-Din clapped his hands together. “We can’t do anything for them. All we can do is make sure their killer is punished in some way.” The ancient bent down and lifted the wounded man from the floor. He plopped the killer in a rebuilt chair. He searched for more weapons to make sure the man made it to prison. He did not want the man to pull another gun and use that to secure his freedom so he could crawl away and try again. “How much longer do you think it will take the rescue workers, Hakim?,” asked the ancient. “I think that even the people you healed will want a second opinion.” “I have no idea.” Hakim straightened his cuffs. “I will see what I can do to hurry things along.” “Thank you, Hakim.” Al-a-Din smiled narrowly. “I will wait for your return.” The butler vanished from the room. A small chime sounded with his passing. “Who are you?” The bomber glared at the old man. “What kind of devil are you to try to minimize my accomplishment?” “They used to tell stories about me,” said Al-a-Din. “Surely you already know who I am. I have walked the Earth a long time.” “You can’t be that man.” The bomber placed both hands on the table top. “I refuse to believe it.” “Does that matter?” The Asian smiled. “I have walked most of the planet by now. When I tell you that killing because you wish to hurt the innocent is wrong, it is the truth. There will be no Heaven for you, much less much of an after life.” “I will have my glory.” The bomber tried to stand, but fell instead as two legs without feet hit the floor. “I will reach my promised place as a warrior of my people.” “They are here, Master.” Hakim appeared out of the air. “The police are coming this way.” “Please show this man the after life he has earned before we go, Hakim.” Al-a-Din stood. “He deserves to know a little of what awaits him if he continues.” The butler frowned. He pulled a book of metal and wood from inside his coat. He opened it by twisting the lock mechanism on the front. He read down the list until he reached a name that was highlighted. He rubbed that name with a finger. A cloud of smoke appeared. The center vanished so that a world of smoke and fire was revealed. Screams and the sounds of ripping and tearing drifted from the hole in the air. A roar from some giant throat called for more fire to be poured on those who were not suffering enough. “I think that’s enough, Hakim.” Al-a-Din nodded at his servant. “Do you understand what I am saying to you? Even if you throw your life away some other day, unless you change, you will suffer like no other. Now is the time to ask for forgiveness and do what you can to make things right.” “I don’t believe you.” The bomber held himself up right by the seat of his chair while sitting on the floor. “That’s just a trick.” “If you think so,” said Al-a-Din. “I assure you that you will experience more pain than you ever thought of after your life is over.” Al-a-Din waved the police over with one hand as they flowed into the rebuilt market. They surrounded the old man and his butler. Some pointed rifles at the pair. “This man bombed the marketplace.” He waved at the bomber. “We could do nothing for the ones he killed outright. If I had been quicker, he never would have been able to do as much as he has done.” “Why should we believe you?” The lead policeman didn’t stop pointing his rifle at the strange pair. “Because we were down the street when this happened, and we helped most of the people outside on the street.” Al-a-Din shook his head. “And we are unarmed, and prepared to make a statement about what we saw.” “Don’t be an idiot, Abdul.” A second policeman shook his head. “That’s the Old Man. Thank you for your assistance. You and your servant may leave.” Al-a-Din bowed. He walked ahead of Hakim, heading back to buy another cup of tea. 24094

The boy and I went to see Cars 3. Lightning McQueen has to get back into training. Things don't go as well as they could have. Also Lou in the short teaches a kid about giving things back to where they belong. CES

Watched John Wick 2. I sat there and thought this guy is dumb burning down John Wick's house. And then tried to kill him after the job was done when they didn't know what he had in the catacombs. Even the manager of the hotel is like you're an idiot. You're dead. It doesn't matter if you are sitting on the commission or not. John Wick is going to light you up as soon as he finds you. He's not that good. He just killed 60 of your guys in a straight up confrontation. Think about that. You have no idea what's going to happen. CES

Again I call for Hermit to write his next big story on this draft CES

Sorry I claimed this first, then Lucius added on a reincarnating hero CES

Watched a box set for the Real Ghostbusters. Brings back the memories. Beaming ghosts across the world, saving a version of the Star Trek crew, saving a guy trapped on his buggy, and the inevitable Christmas Carol. CES

No beards CES

What kind of bribes? CES

Charon is the master of the Ferry Boat. His natural ability allows him to turn any vehicle he is piloting into something that operates anywhere he needs it. Flying cars, submarine planes, digging boats have all been used by this technology altering hero. CES

Sociotard, The Bamfs are off my list for my sentient race. Everything else is there. Bamfs CES

It has been implied that each race has their own language, with Chad gifting universal language for trade. Everyone might know two languages in this world CES

Girl on the Road 2015- She stood on the side of the road in a brown and green dress that looked like it was made of leaves. Her hair faintly glowed in the hairdo that lifted it into a bee hive above her head. Her skin seemed to match the trees that she stood next to in its brownness. It was only luck that Denver McGinty had seen her when he rolled by. He put it down to two lights reflecting near her. He rolled onto the shoulder of the road and put on his hazards. Denver didn’t always pick up hitchhikers but this girl seemed more lost than what he usually saw in the middle of the night. Maybe she needed a hand. He stepped out of his truck. He used it to haul parts for his car repair shop and didn’t care how it looked. A wreck would be the best way to describe its dented sides, crooked back bumper, and the tape over one of the tail lights. “Do you need some help, ma’am?” Denver wondered how she had got out there without a bag, or car. He put it down that she was a hitchhiker. He still expected some kind of luggage unless she was local. “Yes, please.” The girl strode forward. “I am far from where I wanted to be.” “No problem.” Denver gestured for her to go around to the passenger side. “I can drop you off in the city.” “Thank you.” She climbed into the passenger side of the truck. “This is very good of you.” “I’m heading up to Niagara.” Denver shrugged before he climbed in behind the wheel. “New York City is on the way. Are you going beyond there?” “No.” She looked down at her hands. “I hope to find work there.” “Good luck.” Denver smiled at her. He started the truck rolling down the road. “You said you were going to Niagara?” The girl watched the side of the road as guard rails and signs flew by. “Every year, I go to see the Falls.” Denver looked embarrassed at the admission. “My wife and I used to go together, but she died. I carry on with it for her memory.” “I’m sorry.” The girl made a face. “Nothing to be sorry about.” Denver switched lanes as he looked for the right route into the city that wouldn’t cost him that much time. “She had stomach cancer. She insisted we go even though the doctors told her not to. She said it was the last thing we could do together before she went.” “I haven’t met anyone like that,” said the girl. “My mother tries to keep me away from suitors.” “No one good enough for her?” Denver raised an eyebrow. He had known quite a few women who thought their kids were fragile glass. “Yes.” The girl nodded. “She drives off anyone I might want to talk to about anything.” “Is that why you’re heading into the city without any belongings?” Denver thought he might have crossed the line with that question, but she looked like she needed to talk about what was bothering her. Strangers were good for that kind of thing. They weren’t invested, and it didn’t matter what they thought. “I don’t have any belongings,” said the girl. The lights from the road caught her eyes and made it look like they contained explosions of light inside their orbits before they faded again. “My mother keeps everything. What’s mine is hers.” “And what’s hers is hers.” Denver nodded. “Doesn’t make things easy.” “It was just better if I left without saying anything to her.” The girl turned to look out the window, or maybe at her own reflection. “She would have been furious at the talk. She will definitely be furious when she realizes that I have left and don’t plan to come back.” “Starting out is going to be tricky in the big city.” Denver glanced her way. “I can drop you off further upstate.” “That’s kind of you, but the city is what I need.” The girl smiled at him. “It will let me blend in while I am taking care of myself. It will make it harder for Mother to find me and try to bring me home.” “If you can’t blend in with five million people, you won’t be able to blend in anywhere.” Denver smiled. “I wish you the best of luck with that.” “I know.” The girl nodded. “I am hoping that eventually I will be able to move further away from here. That will make it harder for anyone looking for me.” “I get that.” Denver saw an exit he could use to head across the bridge from New Jersey into the city. He could drive through and head north again when he was done dropping his passenger off. “Any place in particular you want to be dropped?” “You can drop me on the other side of the river.” The girl pointed at the other end of the bridge. “I’ll have to make my own way from there.” “It’s no problem.” Denver nodded. “Do you have any friends you can call for help?” “Not really.” The girl shrugged. “Mother always chased off any that I might have liked. She wanted to keep me strong of mind.” “I see.” Denver did a small shake of his head. He had heard of overprotectiveness, but not like this. “Don’t worry.” She smiled at him. “I can take care of myself. It should be okay once I have done some thinking, and figured what I can do to be successful.” “Good luck.” Denver knew the city chewed up young people and spit them out. He had seen more than few as he traveled across the state. He hoped she did better than he expected. They rolled across the bridge silently. It resembled a glowing ribbon leading to a set of lit spools in the distance. Blackness stretched out to either side, with occasional lights from boats plying the river. Denver reached the end of the bridge, ignoring the signs for the Port Authority. His passenger didn’t need to be dropped in the snake pit that marked the end of other people’s journeys to the big city. “Can you take me up to the park?” She pointed in the direction she wanted to go. “I think I can start there tonight.” “The park is dangerous at night.” Denver frowned at her. Central Park had gained a bad reputation over the years. He didn’t want to give it another lamb to slaughter. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Mother might have denied me basic comforts, but she did show me how to protect myself. I feel like the park will give me a better view of what I need to get started. A lot of my skills are in forms of gardening.” “I suppose the city will need another gardener.” Denver knew the Mayor was big on natural spaces. She would have to work to get through the application process if she didn’t have some kind of extra education. He doubted her mother wanted her to attend a college from what had been said already. “I have other skills.” She smiled at him. “It’s just I am best at gardening. If I can get work in the park, that will make things easier. If I can’t, I will look for something else to do.” “I suppose you know what’s best for you.” Denver held back any comments. He doubted he would see her again. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings by thinking that she could do better closer to her home. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re the first person who has said that to me. I know I seem like a bumpkin, but I will be fine.” He smiled back. At least she was confident in her ability and had tempered her expectations some. Most didn’t have that when they tried to make a life in the city. “There’s the entrance to the park.” Denver pulled up to the curb. “I’ll let you off here, and head up to where I am going.” “Thank you for your help.” She opened the door and slid out. “What’s your name?” “It’s Denver McGinty.” He smiled at her. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Let me give you something to get started. It won’t be much, but you should be able to get something cheap to eat for a couple of days.” He handed over a couple of twenties. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. “Thank you, Denver.” She put the money in her dress. “My name is Kisara, Princess of the Genn. I will remember this.” “Kisara Princess?” Denver raised an eyebrow at the weird name. “Be careful out there, Kisara.” “The same to you, Denver McGinty.” She closed the door and started for the entrance to the park. The nearby lights made her hair gleam like a low fire as she walked away. Denver watched her go. He hoped she took care of herself. She seemed like a nice girl. He pulled away from the curb and headed north in the maze of city streets. Once he was clear of the city, he could head for Canada with no problem. The Falls sounded in his imagination. It would be good to settle in his old place to hang out for the next few days. He hoped Kisara did well. He didn’t think the park would be the best place for her to start. Too many human animals occupied it after dark. At least she knew her own mind, and what she wanted to do. He didn’t think he had that when he was her age. It had taken him years before he found a job he liked and fitted what he thought of himself. Luckily, he had Bonnie to help him over the rough spots then. She brought out the best in him when he didn’t think they would make it. Her encouragement had kept them afloat through the years. Now she was gone, and he was headed up to their vacation spot alone. He briefly wondered if it had been worth it. He decided that yes, everything had been great as long as Bonnie walked along with him. He was being maudlin because he was alone for the first time ever. He could do better than that. He drifted through Manhattan with his mind on the past. He saw the signs for Sleepy Hollow and smiled. At least he didn’t have to worry about headless horsemen. He knew the world was a strange place, but he was sure that Washington Irving’s tale of Ichabod Crane and his phantom pursuer was one of those things that had been made up out of old cloth. And he was sure his pick-up could outrun a ghost on the modern roads that cut through the Hudson Valley. The memory of his hitchhiker faded as he looked forward to reaching his annual spot. She was in the past, and he had to look forward for the next few days. He planned to keep an eye on the papers out of the city just in case. 22180

Also I think this is the best draft we have run in a while. Too bad we can't get a novel out of Hermit for it. CES

It looks like I need two picks to finish the draft. For my sentient race, I am going with the nomadic Bamfs, capable of teleporting themselves and other things naturally. Typically they run away from trouble, but if one takes up swashbuckling, they are dangerous with anything they can touch. I need an interference pick. I am going to interfere with the three suns. Occasionally the three suns line up behind each other on the other side of the planet and a quasi night falls to allow time for rest without unyielding day, relief from the constant light, and the coolness of evening. I am assuming a round planet for this. CES

I'm sorry. The consumer financial protection bureau. It's the agency that tracks financial malfeasance. They're the guys that caught Wells Fargo setting up all those fake accounts. Ever since, Repubs have tried to gut it. This vote for this new bill passed with all the repubs but one voting for it. it's on the senate to approve before it goes to Trump CES

The republicans have voted to get roll back Frank Dodd, place the CFB in the president's hands, and take its budget. CES