It’s Friday, and despite the whole “I’m possessed by a shadow being” thing, the days are already getting boring and repetitive. At least I got a surprise day off from school on Wednesday. The agents couldn’t show up for whatever reason. No agents, no attendance. I asked them about it several times, but all they would tell me is that there was an “emergency meeting.” Oh well. I guess now I have something else to hope for to get me out of school.

Odd, I thought I had a dream of them going to Denver or somewhere on the Front Range the night before, but I guess that’s just a coincidence. Or a guess or something?

Delilah has been, a bit quiet, but oddly not as…hostile, I guess? She has this …look on her face whenever she looks at 35. It’s almost as if she’s looking for something, but doesn’t know what. Or rather, I don’t know what. She hasn’t said a word to either of us since Tuesday. Sometimes, I get the sense that she wants to.

Mom is basically the same way. Except she still talks to me whenever she has to.

Dad’s coming home tonight, and despite his attitude towards 35, I’m looking forward to it. He likes hunting, and it’s nice to see him get excited, I guess. It always makes me feel excited too.

“Interesting,” 35 notes.

“What’s interesting?” I ask.

“You said you don’t have positive emotions, but that’s not exactly what I call a ‘logical’ reaction to spending time with one’s father, nor a negative one,” they observe.

“Excited is not an emotion, it’s a state of mind! An energy level!” I object.

They sigh.

“Can’t argue with that,” they admit. “We got a day of school to get through, so let’s buckle up.”

Sitting in the front seat of Mom’s Outback, I do just that. Maybe I would prefer not to though, just in case…

Like Mom would ever allow that to happen. And if I fight her on it, I’m sure to wind up in a padded cell. (Okay, but how is that NOT where I am right now?)

Mom and Delilah hop in and buckle up as well. Mom drives to where the bus would normally pick us up, and parks there.

“Actually Mom, can you just drive me to school as well?” Delilah asks suddenly with no warning.

All three of us look right at her. Did she really just ask that?

“You heard that too, right?” 35 asks to both Mom and me.

“Yes, I did,” Mom says in a matter-of-fact voice. “What’s up with that, Delilah?”

I turn around to see her give her answer. I barely notice as the car starts moving.

“Courtney keeps telling me to give him a chance,” she explains.

Yep. Knew it.

“’Him?’” 35 asks, slightly confused.

“You. Who else?”

“Oh. Uh…people don’t refer to me as ‘he’ is all.”

“Courtney keeps thinking you’re a ‘he.’”

“Okay, could you just tell her that I prefer ‘they’ and ‘them’ next time you see her?”

Delilah looks puzzled. “What are you? A non-gender?”

Oh boy. She’s going to go down that rabbit hole. Again. Even Mom senses it coming, and she knows that she is not gonna like it.

“No, I just don’t want anyone knowing what I am,” they clarify.

“Why not?” asks Delilah.

“Because it’s integral to my mission. My host here cannot know until the mission is over, and thus, neither can anyone else, in case they accidentally leak it.”

“Is it really that important that he doesn’t know?” Delilah asks, probably on the behalf of all of us.

“Yes. It really is.”

“Can you tell us why?”

35 sighs. “I guess I better find the words.”

“If you’re transgender, you can just say that,” Delilah offers, a bit sharply.

Here we go…

“Delilah! Not everyone subscribes to that Tumblr nonsense!” Mom scolds.

Seriously Deli, keep that…

“It’s okay. I do believe in it,” says 35. “Hell, I wouldn’t call it ‘nonsense.’”

…what?

“You’re kidding me,” Mom states. “You too?”

“Yes, me too. It’s not exactly a Tumblr thing. There’s records of trans people in Ancient Greece and Mesopotamia if I remember correctly. Or was it Babylon? Either way, the concept is thousands of years old.”

Mom and I are both dumbfounded. What are they talking about?

 “Are you talking about Ish-tar?” Delilah asks.

“Something like that. Non-binary person, right?”

“Yeah. Is that what you are? Non-binary?”

I turn back to face the front. It’s too early for me to deal with this. Especially not from my…“brainmate?”

“I won’t confirm or deny that either.”

“Okay, fine. But what’s that have to do with…”

Delilah stops suddenly, as if interrupted by her own thoughts. She mutters a few things under her breath like she thought of something she couldn’t believe. She’s putting pieces together of a puzzle she doesn’t like. Eventually, she gains the will to speak.

“Is…?”

“…it the Prime Directive?” 35 cuts her off. “Yes, yes, it is.”

Instead of that answering the question, her face turns confused. “The Prime Directive?”

“I’ll explain later. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay, but-”

“There will be a better time and place to have this conversation. It won’t be long before we’re at school anyway. Catch me at a better time, and I will explain, I promise.”

Delilah goes silent, but I can feel her staring at me from behind. What was she and 35 talking about? Do they know something? What the heck is the “Prime Directive?”

I do my best to ignore the little convo that they’re having. It’s too much for me to handle.

Who would have guessed 35 would actually be one to buy into that transgender stuff? Not me, that’s for sure. I took it for lunacy. Heck, I do take it for lunacy. I remember Dad telling me about how people think they’re supposed to be the opposite gender, and that it never works, no matter what they do. And what did he mean by that? He meant that you can always tell, and that their organs don’t work.

Come to think of it, I must have never met such a person, especially if it’s always visible. But also, why would anyone want to? As a guy, you’re bigger, stronger, have higher lung capacity, are more logical, which is better at…

I feel 35 groan inside me.

Hey! What’s that about? I’m just-

“Shut up, we’re here,” they command.

I focus outside the window. Sure enough, we’re here at school. Mom pulls into the parent loop and unlocks the doors for Delilah and I to hop out.

“Bye sweeties! Make good choices!” She calls out as we leave.

We both turn around and say “bye.”

As what is now usual, 35 hops inside of me and I head towards the door. There’s a raven standing on top of the roof. They’ve been hanging around a lot lately. I go inside and meet my bodyguards. Oddly, they’re not wearing their suits.

“What’s with your outfits” I ask.

“Oh, we’re going plainclothes from here on out, except maybe on Mondays,” Collins explains. “Can only take a suit to the dry cleaners so much, especially when the closest one is in the next town over.”

Oh, that’s interesting…

“Wait, you guys live here? I thought you were driving all the way from Grand Junction every morning.”

Thompson scoffs and smirks. Collins seems rather amused.

“Oh, no no no no no. We live in town now,” he assures. “The state’s paying for our housing for as long as we do. Can’t imagine the nightmare it would be making the ninety-minute drive each way each day!” He collects himself. “Ready to start classes?”

Another day, another boring English class. And so on and so forth.

Eventually, it’s Lunch. I check my messages. Alexia texted me that she wants to meet me again soon. Nat reminds me that I can talk to him if I need anything. The Agents? Well…

“No sandwich this time?” I bluntly ask.

“Timmy likes to play by the book,” Thompson quietly explains to me. “We were ordered to not play nice with you. He was going to keep bringing you sandwiches until he was told not to. I decided ‘fuck that, if I’m watching over this kid for the next four years, we might as well get to know each other.’”

I don’t know what to say. This doesn’t match her usual cold character.

“For the record,” Collins chimes in. “I disagree with the order too, but I still can’t be seen giving you sandwiches every day. Could get me in trouble.”

“Why would anyone order you guys to be mean to me?” I ask bluntly. I mean seriously? Why?

“That is beyond our paygrade,” Collins answers. “Wish we could tell you, or even know.”

Ugh. No, not them too.

“Jeez, you almost sound like 35,” I comment.

“Hey, at least I know why I have to do what I have to do!” they object out loud.

“And let me guess, you can’t tell me that either?”

“Nope, I cannot.” Pause. “But I can probably risk telling you this part.”

“Oh?”

Even Thompson and Collins are interested in this. What are they going to tell me? This better be good.

“The reason I cannot tell you my motives is because you need to help me on your own free will. More specifically, you have to be doing this for yourself. I can’t risk you having any other motives.”

“Like what?”

“Said too much already.”

Will 35 ever stop being so vague?

“Gotta say though, felt odd hearing call him ‘Timmy,’” they diverge.

“Hey, don’t call me that,” he orders sternly. “She’s the only person who gets away with it.”

“I do it so that you’re always on edge. You relax too much,” she responds.

“I get that we as government agents have to be alert at all times, but you kind of take it a little far.”

I just add “It does sound a bit weird hearing that come from you. Didn’t know you could play nice.”

“I can play nice when I want,” she says, a bit offended. “I just don’t very often. People think when a woman is nice, that she’s delicate, has no spine, and/or wants to-”

“Maybe not in front of the kid,” Collins interjects.

“Point is, I’m mean cause I have to be. Better to be thought as a bitch than a pushover.”

“So, it’s all been an act this whole time?” I ask, mostly curious.

“Not exactly. I didn’t spend twenty weeks at Quantico to babysit a teenager for four years. But like I said, we’re stuck together, might as well get to know each other.”

Lunch finishes off quietly without either agent offering me better food. I hop on over to my study hour, then comes Environmental Science. I like learning about it, but it’s hard to focus over 35’s fear of Tiffany. Seriously, how is something like 35 scared of a random middle schooler?

“Can you calm down a bit?” I request. “It’s hard enough to focus without your fear clouding up my mind.”

“Sorry kid, I’ll try to do better,” they apologize. They start making my body do deep breaths. Fine, whatever, just as long as we don’t pass out.

“Seriously, what could be so scary about her?”

“She threatens to jeopardize the mission.”

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that all week.”

I think back to that day. How she reacted when they left my body. She wasn’t scared. She almost looked amazed. It doesn’t make sense. What’s so amazing about 35’s shadowy form? I remember hearing her say that they have a face made in…

How does she know what their face looks like? Does she? Surely, she does, or she wouldn’t have an opinion, right? I don’t know. Maybe she just saw their white glowing eyes and took that as a sign of the divine. But still, she seemed to react-

Guy-uh’s will, how am I supposed to keep this discreet when she could just shout it from the rooftops?

What was that?

 She said she agreed to keep it a secret, but knowing what very little I know about her, she might just mouth off to her dad anyway!

Is…is that 35?

 Poor girl. She’s obviously being groomed by her dad. And she’s only thirteen! All the more reason for me to worry.

“Hey, is that you?” I think towards them.

“Is what I?” they think back.

“‘All the more reason for me to worry.’”

Silence.

“I need us to go out in the hall.”

Fuck, fuck, FUCK, can sh-he hear me? Oh nononono! This is bad! FUCK!

I start to get a bit disgusted. “Calm down with the f-bombs, would you?”

I can feel them start panicking. “Just let me out in the hall, please!”

“Or…?”

Seeing them panic like this is interesting. I wonder if I could bluff my way into getting them to say something.

I raise-no wait, 35 raises my hand.

“Yes Brock?” Mr. Leonard calls on us.

Before I could say anything, 35 takes control of my mouth and quickly shouts, “Can we go out in the hall, please?”

“Sure, don’t let me stop you,” he answers, not wanting any trouble.

“It’s completely their idea! I have nothing to do with it!” I blurt out.

35 stands us up and walks us straight towards the door. I catch a look at Tiffany right as we head out the door. She looks almost worried. Thompson follows closely behind us.

As soon as we’re out and the door is closed, 35 has my body collapse on all fours and starts desperately gasping for air.

“Are you okay?” Collins asks with lots of concern in his voice. “Do we need to call the ambulance?”

“No, I’m fine,” insists 35. “Just need to regain my composure.”

I watch in amusement. If what I’m doing could be called “watching.”

“Wow,” I exclaim. “I never knew you were THAT terrified of her.”

“I am scared, yes,” they admit. “But what sent me over the edge is me realizing you can hear my thoughts.”

“So that WAS you!”

“Yes, it was me,” they defeatedly admit. “As well as the horror in realizing just being in the same room as her can-”

“-jeopardize your mission?” I finish.

“Yes!”

“How?”

“Remember when I said that I can hear your thoughts whenever you’re emotionally compromised or want me to?”

“Yeah? What are you saying, that it also works the other way around?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

Oh. OH.

“Hey,” I say out loud where I know the agents can hear me. “So, if we just got Tiffany in the room, you’ll answer to anything these two ask of you?”

“Wait-”

“I appreciate your helpfulness, sport,” says Agent Collins. “But after our last meeting on Tuesday, our orders are to purely observe and protect the two of you, and the general public. We are not to ask any more questions for further investigation.”

“WHAT?!!?”

35 breathes a sigh of relief.

“Come on! How-”

“Kid, I literally just admitted one of my weaknesses to you, and you didn’t hesitate for even a second to stab me in it!” they complain. “How? Why?”

“Because I hate you!” I yell internally. “You’re ruining my life!”

“I’m trying to save it!”

“Then why can’t you tell me what your end goal is?” Like it matters. I’m not gonna make it past twenty-one.

They go silent.

“We’re going back into class. Only important thing I’ve got in my life right now anyway.”

I stand us up.

“You wouldn’t show a great artist from the past one of their completed works before they started on it, would you?” they retort.

Whatever. I storm back into class.

“Can we at least call a truce?” 35 begs inside my head.

I ignore them and plop down into my seat. Everyone stares at me.

“What?” I shout. “Don’t let me interrupt anything.”

Everyone looks back down at their worksheets. I spend the rest of the class ignoring 35. Not that it really matters, because they don’t say anything else. At all. Not even through the “emotionally compromised” way.

But also, how come the agents didn’t jump at the opportunity to squeeze more info out of 35? Who would ever tell them not to? Someone they would listen to, sure, but why? What would be the benefit of that? Is that why they haven’t pressed 35 about the incident with Tiffany? This makes even less sense than the whole possession thing.

The bell rings, signaling the end of class. I continue to ignore 35 for the rest of the day. Through both classes. The end of the day comes around; I wait by the parent loop for Mom to come by. I’m getting a bit anxious; 35 hasn’t said anything. Are they still there? I hope they haven’t disappeared or anything.

“Thanks kid. I knew you had a good fiber in you,” they think in response to my thought.

I relax a little bit, but still frown. I’m still a little bit mad at them for ruining my ability to focus and dragging me out of class.

 “I really appreciate it. I care for you too,” they finish.

“Well, I don’t care for you,” I stab.

“Then why were you anxious?”

“Because I…”

I freeze. I don’t have an answer. One that isn’t what they suggested, anyway.

“Moving on,” they lead. “I am sorry for what happened in environmental science. I guess I need to work on that.”

“Is she really that big a threat to you?”

“Yes. But I tell you what: complete the mission, and you can say whatever you want to her, however you want, as much as you want, so long as she doesn’t call the cops on you. That sound fair?”

“But I want to talk to her now! Or at least next week.”

Pause. “Okay, fine. But you don’t talk to her about me until the mission is done, okay?”

“And how long is that gonna be?”

“Depends on you. How much do you wanna grow?”

I don’t. I’m too lazy to. Not sure I deserve to. But I do want to talk with her, so…

“Okay, deal,” I finalize.

Delilah joins us.

“Whatchya doin?” she asks in her annoying voice.

I guess that’s back to normal at least. I really don’t want to talk.

I glance back at the agents. They don’t seem to care that she’s talking to me, probably because she’s my sister and she lives with me anyway. So, I just say “Please leave me alone.”

She doesn’t take it seriously. “What if I don’t want to?” She blows a quick raspberry.

Ugggghhhh…

“Want me to handle this?” 35 asks.

Before I could answer, Mom pulls up. 35 jumps out of my body and we all hop in the Outback. 35 waves goodbye to the agents as we take off.

“So, how was your day at school today, sweeties?” Mom asks, mostly cheerful, but I can tell she’s a little bit tense with 35 in the car.

“Mine was actually pretty good,” answers Delilah. “Most of my classmates leave me alone now, though.”

“Even Courtney?”

“No,” she stumbles. “Not Courtney.”

“And what about you, Brock?”

I look down to check my texts. “Alexia’s still not back.”

“Ha! Someone’s got a crush!” Delilah exclaims.

I feel my chest sink. I do not! She’s just a friend! And I don’t deserve love anyway-

…Why do I feel pity?

“Hey Deli, knock it off!” Mom shouts back at her. “Guys have friends that happen to be girls too.”

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “I’m never gonna date anyone anyway.”

“You never know,” Mom answers quickly.

I ignore her and look at my texts. Alexia sent a message.

“parents changed their minds. said like we shouldn’t judge and stuff like that B back Monday! talk 2 me if u need anything! :)”

Yes! She’s coming back early next week!

I text back, saying “Sweet! I hope to see you again! Maybe we can meet up tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? What am I thinking? I didn’t even ask Mom first. Then again, now would probably be a bad time, given what they just said about me and her.

“Hey Mom, can I go to Courtney’s house tomorrow?” Delilah asks out of nowhere.

Mom takes a second to think about it. “Sorry sweetie, but your dad is coming back tonight and I don’t think he wants to miss out on catching up with you.”

Deli quietly mutters something I don’t hear. But then Mom offers a suggestion.

“Perhaps she can come over instead?”

“Uh…I’ll ask her.”

As she does that, Alexia texts me. “u 2!!! Ill ask my parents!”

Remembering what Mom just said to Delilah, I just answer “Yeah, nevermind, maybe a later time.”

Defeated, I switch to my Minecraft knock-off for the rest of the drive home. I ignore what everyone else is saying, instead focusing on building an underground house. I only look up once I hear the sound of gravel crunching under the tires.

“Hey Brock, I need you to water the plants again today,” Mom instructs as we pull up.

Of course.

What else do I do other than what I’m told? I hop out of the car and get the hose out without even entering the house first. 35 keeps close to me as I do so. Mom and Deli walk straight into the house.

“Want me to help you?” 35 offers. “I get it, it’s not exactly a fun thing to do, but it might go by faster without you spacing out on it.”

Hey! I’m not that incompetent! “No.”

“Okay,” they back off.

I continue to water the plants. I hate when I’m offered help for something I know how to do. It feels like I’m being called helpless. I’m not helpless. I can’t be!

“Hey Squirt, maybe it’s time to move on to the next one?” 35 interrupts.

 They’re right. Water is pouring out the brim of the pot. Ugh!

I angrily finish watering the plants. Nothing’s worse than actually messing something up after you just got called bad at it. I turn off the water, roll up the hose, and head inside. I kick off my shoes, head over to my room and plop face down on the bed.

“Are you okay?” 35 checks.

“Yes,” I lie.

They don’t attempt to press the issue. “Okay. I’m here if you need anything.”

“And what would I need from you?” I turn to face them. “Remind me why you’re always near me?”

“Because I have no eyes, ears, nose or any other actual sensory organs. I’m a spirit, I have to borrow the input of other brains in my vicinity.”

“And how does that work?”

“Not sure. I think I’m using your brainwaves or something.”

“Brainwaves?”

“Yeah, the electrical impulses in your neurons emit EM waves, or something like that, I don’t know. Wanna look them up?”

Ugh, might as well. I hop over to my computer and look up “brain waves.” And-oh. I guess they are a thing.

“And you can’t just wander off because of that?”

“Honestly, it would probably be easier to show you.”

“Show me?”

“Yeah, like have you hop outside your body again.”

I CAN DO THAT!?!?

“You’ve been able to do that since I first kicked you out.”

…

“Everyone I do that to has the ability to astral project. There’s a reason I haven’t done that to anyone since Father Paul.”

“And why didn’t you tell me that until now?”

Seriously, why!?!?

“You didn’t seem intent on leaving your body again since you got back in. Besides, nobody asked. It wasn’t relevant until now. Besides, earlier today, when I showed you one of my vulnerabilities, you stabbed me in them without a second thought. Why should I trust you with this?”

My heart sinks. Dang it! Screw me. Of course I’d never get the cool stuff. People always give me consequences after I already reacted. Now I’ll never know how to leave my body.

I hate you, 35. Why do you have to taunt me and my worthless, horrible, bad-

The door knocks.

“Hey Brock, can I come in?” asks Delilah.

“No,” I shout.”

“Well, I’d like to talk to 35, if that’s alright?” she requests without opening the door.

Curious, 35 looks straight towards the door. “Really? About what?”

“About what we talked about in the car this morning. I need to know why you’re here.”

“Well, I’m here to help-”

“The whole story,” she insists. “I’m ready.”

“I think it might be a little early. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Can we please talk?”

“Aren’t you only like, eleven?”

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s a big burden for anyone, especially for an eleven-year-old. You got your education and stuff to worry about.”

“I can handle it!”

“Don’t bother,” I inject. “They refuse to tell me too.”

“Are there parts you can tell me that wouldn’t burden me?” Deli keeps going.

They sigh as they turn to me “Alright, fine, that’s alright with me, what about you, kid?”

WHAT?!?! How come they’re telling her?! But also…

“So, you’re able to leave me as long as you’re with her?”

“Yeah, I should be.”

“Okay, go,” I say. Maybe I can finally have some alone time. Alone time? ALONE TIME?

“Don’t touch yourself,” 35 shouts, clearly sensing my intent. “I’ll probably feel it. In front of your sister. And that will be so awkward both of us will just wish we could vanish.”

Dang it! I was hoping to break the dry spell!

“I’ll see you when I’m done informing your sister. Maybe she’ll be your best ally once I’m through.” They turn towards the door. “Hey Delilah, you got to open the door to let me out!”

And with that, Delilah opens the door, 35 walks out, and she closes it behind them. 35 may have said no touching myself, but they didn’t say anything about looking at transformation art! Sure enough, I don’t hesitate for even a second to turn on my private browser, and look up my favorite images of people being turned into things, especially animals. Or mythical creatures. Or the opposite gender. Or a combination of any. Sure, they’re labeled that they’re for adults, but whatever. They don’t make sure you’re over eighteen other than asking you. It’s all so…

The door opens. I frantically close the window. I turn and face…Dad!

“Hey Brock, how are ya?”

Still panicked from the crisis that almost happened, I stutter “just fine.”

“Alright, just wanted to let you know that’s we’ll talk about hunting tomorrow.”

“Okay,” is all I can muster.

“And to let you know that hopefully, we’ll have an answer to your squatter problems pretty soon.”

“Squatter?”

“Yeah, someone who’s taking residence illegally.”

Oh. He means 35.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“That’s all for now. I made my tasty meatloaf for you whenever you’re ready.”

Ugh.

“Yeah, thanks”

“Alright, good night, love you.”

He leaves my room. I wait a minute before opening my browser back up. This time, I look up stories as opposed to artwork. I’m in the middle of reading about-

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” a voice asks from behind.

I nearly jump out my seat and scramble to close the window again. I turn around to see who it is.

It’s 35.

“Don’t worry,” they say. “No words, no judgement.”

I sigh in relief, but then feel, I don’t know, mad? About something.

“How come you can tell Delilah what you’re here for and not me?”

“Because the road is not hers. But… she may end up being helpful. Maybe even beneficial to you."

“How?”

“Well, for starters, she might intentionally annoy you less often from now on.”

“We’ll see about that.” Nothing would stop her from doing that. She’s the devil’s future wife.

I wait for another hour before heading out to the kitchen. I really wish he was lying about that meatloaf, but he wasn’t. I take two bites out of it, which is all I could stand. Fortunately, Mom also put out applesauce. I also raid the pantry for chocolate bars and snacks.

Once I’m full, I get ready for bed and go to sleep. 35 still just sleeps in the computer chair until I’m asleep myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bright sunny day does little to lift our moods.

My team and I trudge through the remains of the city. I don’t know what it’s called. Or was. I just know that an outpost is being set up here. Wouldn’t be an issue if it wasn’t so close to our sanctuary. I’ve been in a few fights before. Even with my new enhancements. But this isn’t the usual “there’s a breach in the wall” or “there’s a new type we can use for parts” mission. No. We’re encroaching on their territory.

I hate calling it that. Sounds like we’re already admitting defeat. I guess in a sense, we already have lost. We’re just trying to borrow time to hold off the inevitable. And maybe avoid it?

Mission is simple enough. Get me close enough to the core, and I can destroy it with my lightning powers. And if that doesn’t work, we brought a bomb.

I hear rustling. I signal for everyone to stop. I think to my sensor to scan the area. Her eyes can see all spectra. Her ears can hear as high as a bat’s. Her nose would embarrass a bloodhound. Her feet can sense vibration like an elephant. After a couple of minutes, she signals all clear. I tell everyone to keep moving.

As we walk by, I turn towards what’s left of a glass window. I admire my reflection. My badass outfit, my heeled combat thigh-highs, my blue cloak, my bodysuit, my mask. My perfect figure. It looks more sexy than functional, but hey, it’s what I wanted. I resist the temptation to stop and cock my hips to the side and admire myself. Boy, am I hot like this! It’s just then, in the background of the reflection, I notice-

“AMBUSH!!!” Someone yells.

Sure enough. One of the drones gets the jump on us. Impossible! Nothing hides from my sensor!

It’s followed by another. And another. And another. It’s a Horde!

“I’ll hold them off, keep going!” screams Agent Collins. He raises his rifle and starts firing loosely.

“No Timmy!” Another one of my fighters yells.

“No fighter left behind!” I scream. “Everyone out of here, our chances for a surprise attack are gone!”

One by one, my team gets evac’d back to the sanctuary. In the meantime, I pull out my stick. It unfolds, extends to its full length, and unsheathes its blades, becoming my ol reliable spear. Of thunder.

Okay, this is awesome!

The first drone that charges me gets speared through the CPU. The next one, I punch hard enough that it knocks back into several more behind it.

They keep coming. I switch my spear to my left hand and pull out my special pistol. I shoot them, one, sometimes two at a time if they’re lined up right.

But they keep coming, and I’m out, down to my last mag.

Instead of wasting it on this apparent swarm, I resort to using my AOE attacks with my spear. Each time I swing it, a wave of electricity goes flying out towards them, putting several out of commission at once.

But they keep coming. And there’s still a couple people left!

Oh no. I’m doomed!

So I wait. And wait. And wait. Just as they’re about to reach me, I jump up, as high as I can. I turn back down towards the ground, charge my fist, ready for a downward punch, and start yelling.

BOOM!!!

The impact is massive, sending out a huge EMP that disables them all.

Hell yeah!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up, feeling excited, only to find myself at home, in my bed in the dark, at…3am?

Whoa.

ScorchedWinds

Happy Halloween Everyone!

If you like this chapter, or the series so far, don't hesitate to let me know!

Come on 35, get to working on that nonviolent communication you mentioned last chapter!