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  "writing": "\tThe cold autumn air that swept through the camp in the woods made the grass under Laila feel dry and uncomfortable. Everything about that trip had been uncomfortable. She crashed her truck, nearly caught hypothermia, and didn’t care for sleeping on the grass as much as she had been doing. Those problems were that of regular folk, however. Her trip between Harbington and Locksmouth was far from regular. Most people didn’t worry about being assaulted and battered by terrorists armed with extinct weaponry and angry dispositions. Even fewer had to worry about being thrown into a makeshift prison on their hikes, like the one she found herself in.\n\n\tEverything up to that point had just been so stressful! The thugs that captured her, Daxton, and Casey barely fed them, and they were anything but nice or gentle. It was all in an attempt to strong-arm them into giving away where their friend, Quincey Abram, was holed up so they could capture her and the Inkling she hosted. The longer they refused to fess up, the more impatient their captors became. Daxton, for all the courage and bravado he’d displayed in the face of the camp’s leader – a hulk of a man who frightened poor Laila to the core – had been beaten and battered for his blatant disrespect. He’d spent most of his time in that cell made up of a strong-force containment field laying on his back in the grass. Casey, an older man and a glorified guide, had remained as quiet and out of the way he could, just as Laila had.\n\n\tDaylight disappeared over the trees in the thick forest, washing the golden oranges and browns of autumn in a blue moonlit tint. The prisoners were restless, and sleep wasn’t going to come to them that night. Laila spent her time sitting cross-legged in the grass and keeping to herself. She was quiet, trying desperately to sort out all the feelings of stress and anxiety that events had brought her to. No calming exercises were going to help her vent her frustrations, and she’d resorted to more physical means. She rolled up the sleeves of her warm jacket and stroked her arms with her fingertips, mixing the sensation with the cold night air to give her goosebumps. Tender petting became gropes and squeezes after some time, the giraffe girl beginning to grab handfuls of her softer parts and try to wring them out like stress balls. She spent nearly half an hour kneading her own chest alone.\n\nShe spread one hand over her legs, pawing at the stretchy material of her bottoms and squeezing it tight around her thighs. Her breaths came labored with frustration aching to get out, discomfort that needed to be washed away, and the building stress grew and swelled inside her until it spilled over into bold desire. The teenage girl pushed her hand between her thighs, which flexed in protest and trapped her appendage there. Undaunted, she pushed one finger into the pool of her frustrations, applying a firm pressure to that hotbed of emotions that had misdirected themselves to nestle between her legs. The girl sucked in a soft breath when her anger and worry were phased out by a sensation of pleasure that trickled up from her loins, travelling the super information highway of her nerves straight into the center of her brain. For a moment, all her anxiety disappeared.\n\n“W-What are you doing?”\n\nLaila opened her eyes and looked to her left. Casey sat there watching her in wide-eyed fascination. The heat to his blush was similar to the girl’s own, telling of physical interest and terrible shame. Laila removed her hand from her chest and allowed it to join her other. With her hands rested on her thighs, she allowed her fingers to curl between them to her core. She ceased her active stroking and petting, but maintained a pressure against her that she felt in her understickers.\n\n“Sorry, I’m just losin’ my mind,” The girl breathed, “I just feel… I ain’t right. I’m wound up tighter n’ a spring, n’ I’m ready to [i]bounce[/i], ya know what I’m sayin’?”\n\nCasey stared at her in shocked confusion.\n\n“Sorry, just ignore her,” Daxton spoke out from a few feet away, laying on his back. Had he any eyes, he would have been staring at the stars above, but instead he could only see black. “Laila gets that way when she’s stressed out,” He said, “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”\n\n“Oh,” Casey rubbed his arm. The bruises there had stopped aching when the sun had finally gone down. He laughed, “Well I suppose I can’t blame you.”\n\nLaila visibly hunched as she sighed. She placed her hands on the ground at her side and pushed herself to sit on her rear, legs outstretched. “I swear when we get outta here n’ get to Locksmouth, reckon I’m gonna grab the first cute thing I can find and we’re gonna [b][i]knock boots[/i][/b] somethin’ fierce. Whew… Daxton, when’re we gonna get outta here?”\n\nCasey turned his attention thankfully to the teenage boy sprawled out on the ground. “Yes, please tell me you don’t have to get beat up any more times before you have your plan,” He said.\n\nDaxton grinned in spite of the thrashings he’d received at the hands of Garrison, the camp’s apparent leading man. No matter how big the old grizzly bear was, Daxton never stayed down. His body ached all over, but with a sheer application of mind power the throbbing sensation from his marks and bruises would be lessened. “Last time I was out there, I think I ran into our ticket,” He said, “I heard it out there. Whatever it is, it’s big; and it’s stuck behind a force field just like we are.”\n\n“What’re you gonna do?” Laila asked.\n\n“I just need to get into another one-on-one with our friend,” The boy smirked.\n\nCasey’s eyes bugged, “That’s insane, you’ve already been soundly beaten three times. That man is just too… too beastly to be put down.”\n\nDaxton turned his head, his bangs falling before his sunken, close-lidded, eyesoxkets. “I’m not looking to win,” He said, “Can you two help me make some noise?”\n\n“Are you sure, Dax?” Laila asked.\n\n“Yeah, I’m good,” Daxton lifted himself off the ground, bracing himself with his sore arms to roll onto his side. He gave Laila a confident thumbs-up.\n\nLaila sighed, but pushed herself onto her hands and knees to crawl toward the smaller boy. “Alright, but without my PET this is gonna get a little… physical,” She said.\n\nDaxton flicked his wrist. “Pff, there’s nothing you can dish out that I can’t take,” He said, “What are you going to do?”\n\n-\n--\n-\n\n“AUGH!”\n\nKris Procsman turned his head at the sound of a sudden shout coming from the general direction of the prisoner cell. The young man had just gotten his gear stripped down to comfortable shorts and was ready to throw himself into his comfy cot when the sound stopped him. Sheer curiosity saw him rising to his feet to walk past his equally confused tent-mates and poke his head out the flap to see what all the commotion was about.\n\n“LAILA! ACK!”\n\nThere it was again. Other tents all around the camp started to light up as activity picked up. The shouting and hollering continued with more soldiers stumbling out of their tents to see what the matter was. Some of them darted across the camp towards the prisoners and others struggled to shake their drowsy, sleepy state before being able to do anything. Kris stepped out of his tent in just his shorts, shivering in the cold night air and wrapping his arms around himself as he ran in a high-knee prance toward the prisoners as well. His feet stepped on errant twigs and rocks the entire way, making him hop about just to reach the other end of the camp.\n\n“Giddy up you little daddy’s boy! I’m hankerin’ for a ruttin’ and ya’ll’re gonna put up!” The giraffe girl shouted. Kris hurried and pushed past the crowd to the cell to see the girl straddling the blind dog kid. She was pinning him down roughly and grinding her hips like a flour mill down against his pelvis while attempting to pull his undershirt up. She’d already pulled open the kid’s overcoat.\n\n\tDaxton coughed, “Oh my god, Laila…! S-Stop, I’ve got bruises there!” He tried to turn and twist his body, and his struggling made him wheeze and grunt. He wrestled with Laila as best he could, and when he managed to grab one of her hands and pry it off of his clothing, he pushed to throw her over. He rolled with her and pinned her down by her shoulders in an effort to keep her off.\n\n\t“Knock it off!” Daxton barked. Laila threw her legs around his waist and locked them to keep him tightly held.\n\n\t“I like it when ya’ll get rough!” Laila smirked, reaching down over Daxton’s body and grabbing him harshly between the legs. The boy yelped in sudden surprise and tried to back off, only allowing Laila to be able to push him forwards. She shoved and rolled with him to swing him down onto his back, and the strength of his impact with the ground made him gasp for air. It also made the crowd of gunmen (and women) cringe.\n\nCasey watched the pair of rowdy teens in slack-jawed amazement. The crowd seemed to get swept up in the sudden excitement, and they started to cheer and holler, trying to egg the kids on and keep them wrestling for their entertainment. The formerly silent night had been broken by the sounds of a small stadium full of people – the sort of noise reserved for small sporting events, the kind that made conversation difficult and the ability to hear one’s own thoughts just impossible enough. Fueled by this energy, Laila continued to wrestle with Daxton, going so far as to start biting playfully against his throat. Daxton, not having really planned any of it, just tried to keep her at bay.\n\n“What the hell is going on out here?!” Garrison’s booming voice rose over the crowd like thunder. The crowd went silent and heads turned as the hulk of a man stomped through. The people parted like the Red Sea to let him pass, moving him to the front of the commotion to stand outside the strong-force containment field. He was only half dressed, and wasn’t wearing as much padding as he often did in his full combat fatigues. The uniform pants still hung loose around his legs, tucked into his boots, but only a sleeveless tank top covered his bulky upper body. His rife was slung over his shoulders by its leather strap, and he already had one passkey disc attached to his shirt to allow him through the containment field. His eyes fell right to Daxton and Laila, and when Laila noticed the man she flipped off Daxton and onto her back.\n\n“Oh, you’re here,” Daxton grunted, pushing himself up onto his feet. Garrison’s expression soured as he realized the whole stunt was simply to draw him out.\n\n“… Alright, you went through all that trouble just to see me?” He asked, “What do you want, punk?”\n\nDaxton pressed his arms against the force field and leaned on his elbows. He set his head against it and hunched, but rose one finger upright in a gesture. “One more go, me and you,” He said, “If you win, I’ll tell you where Quincey is.”\n\nGarrison crossed his arms. “You know what?” He answered, “I’m getting the impression that you just like being a little asshole and you aren’t actually going to tell me jack. Why should I believe you’ll tell me anything?”\n\nDaxton waited – a little dramatic pause – before he leaned in really close to the barrier and lowered his voice a little. “Because you’re not going to win,” He grinned.\n\nDaxton heard the bear’s teeth grind. “Oh yeah?” The man asked gruffly.\n\nDaxton nodded. “The only stipulation I ask is that you give me my hat,” He said, “You’re a real tough guy fighting a blind kid. I think things would be different if I could see you… even if I can [b]hear[/b] you coming from a mile away.”\n\nSilence filled the space when Garrison refused to answer the boy’s demands immediately. The large bear took to consideration and the soldiers closest to him stared at him in curious wonder. Kris Procsman was the first to approach, leaning a little to try and look up at Garrison’s face when the man lowered his chin to think. “You’re… not actually going to do that, are you?” Kris asked.\n\nA familiar Persian feline approached from off to the side, hardly dressed in more than underwear and a tank top. “You have no reason to meet this boy’s demands,” She added to her comrade’s concerns.\n\n“Tch,” Garrison spat, “Why? What’s he going to do, beat me? I can crush him.”\n\n“You can’t be serious,” Kris said, blinking his red eyes, “He’s just a kid, man!”\n\nGarrison shoved the gecko aside and regarded Daxton again. “Alright, boy,” He said, “You get your STOP, and we fight. If I win, and you don’t tell me what you promised to, then I will break your legs and I might forget to set them right again to heal.”\n\nThe only nerve Daxton showed was him gritting his teeth.\n\n“And if you think I’m lying, I dare you to try it,” Garrison said, “If you’re going to be a big man now, then you either put up or shut up. I’m not here to play your kid’s games anymore. You step out of that cell, and you’re going to be treated like an adult.”\n\nLaila and Casey stared at Daxton, who took a deep breath and let it all out in a sigh. “You… [i]caveman[/i],” Daxton said, “Fine.”\n\nGarrison stared at Daxton, who now refused to even point his gaze in his direction. A toothy grin spread over the bear’s features, and he reached inside the containment field. Able to pass through thanks to the disc reacting to the threadlinks in his clothing, Garrison simply planted a large hand over Daxton’s chest. That hand felt enormous spread out over Daxton’s chest, and there seemed to be an ever-present risk that the bear might curl his fingers and somehow grab and crack a couple of Daxton’s ribs. Daxton just waited to be grabbed and thrown like usual, but instead the second passkey disc was attached to Daxton’s shirt and Garrison withdrew his hand. Daxton was surprised for a moment, but caught on quickly enough. He stepped through the containment field of his own accord.\n\nGarrison laughed, “Ha! Alright then.” He turned to one of the soldiers and instructed them to go find Daxton’s STOP. The soldier hurried off, and Garrison moved in to clap a hand down on Daxton’s back. Pain from earlier bruising shot through the boy’s shoulders and he hissed and tensed up. Garrison started to walk with him, leading him away from his friends.\n\n“You know what, boy? I like you,” The man said, “You’re not afraid to get into a scrap. People these days, they just don’t know how to fight. You’re Daxton, right?”\n\n“Daxton Kemberge,” Daxton grimaced.\n\n“Garrison Clarke,” Garrison answered, “I don’t know why you give so much of a damn about these alien freaks, Daxton, but I respect your will to fight for it. It’s just a shame that you’re just a dumb kid. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”\n\nGarrison walked Daxton out to the central camp area, though Daxton couldn’t exactly see it. Tents were set up rather spaciously in a semi-circle area, and between them stood several other prisoner areas. These areas were made up of strong-force containment, just like Daxton’s own thrown-together prison cell; the difference was that the others were filled with alien creatures. Daxton could hear them as they made strange honks, gurgles, or otherwise low, rumbling growls the likes of which no creature on Earth ever made. The crowd of soldiers had followed him and Garrison to the main area and were spreading out to watch. They were getting ready to watch a grown man beat down a teenager. Daxton scowled.\n\n“Take me, for example,” Garrison said, stepping around to Daxton’s front and planting his hands on the blind boy’s shoulders to stop him from moving. “I was made to fight,” He said, “Out of almost everyone on this rock, I was born for battle. I was raised by my boss to be a body guard, genetically altered to ensure I’d be the best damn fighting machine on two legs we’ve seen since the old days, and now… now we’ve got an alien invasion on our hands. Before, I was just an antique, but now? Now I’ve got a purpose. Now I can fight.”\n\n“You’re seriously a super soldier?” Daxton asked, “That kind of genetic manipulation was outlawed when…”\n\n“When guns were? Yeah,” Garrison shook his head, “But we knew about the aliens, Daxton. These things, they’re bad business, and what they did in Locksmouth just proves it. They’re evil dictators ready to come down from outer space and take our planet for whatever unnatural reason they want. We knew this even before the Locksmouth Incident. Whatever you think you know? It isn’t jack, kid. I’m going to show you and everyone like you that the way we should have been living from the start is by letting the strong people run things. If we did, we wouldn’t even be in this mess. We wouldn’t be standing here right now having a difference in opinion; because I can tell that you’re a strong kid. You’re just full of stupid ideas.”\n\n“Stupid ideas?” Daxton balled his fists, “They just want [i]help[/i]. Quincey… just wants [i]help[/i]. She wouldn’t even be in this situation if idiots like you didn’t try to jam your fists down the throat of anything that scares you – anything different than you.”\n\n“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Garrison said, turning his head as one of the soldiers approached. Daxton heard them coming too and stopped his chastising of the big buffoon to listen more closely to whatever exchange they were about to have. It wasn’t long before Daxton felt his hat being thrust against his chest for him to take, nearly being pushed off balance by Garrison’s strong-arming him.\n\n“Yeah, what would I know about being different,” Daxton muttered under his breath as he pulled his hat over his head. It didn’t take long for the threadlink material in the hat to react in proximity with the implants that littered his brain, transmitting images that he would be able to see. Daxton slowly looked up from Garrison’s chest to the man’s face, which sat well over a foot higher than Daxton did. The man was truly monstrous – gruff, old, but strong. No man Daxton had ever seen before had arms like Garrison did. They had raw power in them, and his hands were frightening tools that appeared designed to crush, break, and destroy. There was no gentleness in that man.\n\nQuincey always read stories about monsters, like dragons and griffons… but if a monster ever really existed among mankind, it was Garrison Clarke.\n\nDaxton looked around with his returned sight and got a handle on the creatures he suspected were placed around the camp. He was right, he knew he’d heard them before, and he knew then where they were and what they looked like. There were spider-like ones, he recognized those from Harbington, when one attacked Kenny at the Burger Dictator. He recognized the others from news broadcasts reporting from Locksmouth during and after the initial alien invasion. There were big, red, lumbering ones, and a gelatinous green blob with a single eye, but there was one that Daxton didn’t recognize.\n\nIt was bigger than a person, bigger than Garrison even. Whatever the creature may have lacked in its already impressive height, it more than made up for in broad width. Its hulking bipedal form was covered in a chitin exoskeleton that covered it like armored plates, exposing only very small parts of the joints. Its head stuck out like a big cylinder from between its massive shoulders, three eyes dotting the rounded end of the cranium, while near its base it bore insect-like mandibles sticking out of holes Daxton could only assume were its mouths. The jagged-edged incisors flexed and moved while the creature’s head rotated on its base, sometimes a full three-hundred and sixty degrees. It was as if someone combined an armored beetle with a gorilla and threw in some nonsensical physical elements. How those soldiers managed to get it behind a containment field couldn’t have been anything short of a miracle.\n\nThe more important question became how to get it out.\n\n“Voice command E-649038,” Daxton almost whispered. His vision darkened, and then lit up once again with a display of blue lights. Those blue lights were electromagnetic energy. Seeing everything else in only vague outlines of black, white, or gray; Daxton could see several radiating energy sources appearing throughout the camp. Most of them came from the weaponry the soldiers carried. Not only was every rifle in the camp lit up like a Christmas tree, but several other tools attached to the soldiers’ belts displayed some form of power – some of them even being honest-to-goodness electricity as opposed to fusion charges or plasma.\n\nWhat Daxton was looking for was whatever may have been powering the strong-force containment fields holding his friends and the alien creatures in place. That object would have been generating perhaps the most noticeable field of energy, and Daxton didn’t have to sweep his vision around him long before he found it. A small generator was tucked amidst the tents, positioned out in the open. It hummed with stores of energy that would have likely had a half-life of a good many years. Daxton may as well have been looking at an open-air stadium in the dead of night with how much light was coming off that thing.\n\n“Where are you looking?” Garrison said, stepping between Daxton and his intended target, “Are we doing this or have you lost your nerve?”\n\nDaxton looked to Garrison and his vision switched back to normal. “No,” He said. He stepped backward away from Garrison to put some distance between them. The boy turned his stance to place his feet just right, then raised his hands at the ready, one level with his chest and the other closer to his stomach.\n\nThe crowd around Daxton started getting restless, murmuring among themselves. Garrison cracked his neck and smiled. “Good!” He said, “So if you lose, you cough up the pig’s location. And if you win?”\n\n“Well then I win,” Daxton said, “And you’d have gotten your butt kicked by a kid.”\n\n“Right,” Garrison chuffed.\n\nDaxton and Garrison entered a step where they studied one another. They circled around the area between them, taking slow steps to see which one of them would make a move first. Daxton remained poised and ready, but Garrison seemed relaxed.\n\n“So, you said you were born to fight, tough guy,” Daxton said, “So fight.”\n\n“Hey, I’m the bigger man,” Garrison shrugged, turning toward Daxton and readying his fists, “I’ll let you take the first shot.”\n\nDaxton just took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had the patience to wait, so he used it. Daxton wasn’t as good at fighting straight-on, he was more reactionary. Back in school, any time he ever got into a fight he was the one to let his opponent take the first shot. Those opponents were often bullies or trouble-makers, kids who went out of their way to be a nuisance or upset someone else. The way Daxton saw it, Garrison was just an older bully. The thing about bullies? They were a prideful sort. Daxton didn’t have to be in any rush.\n\nAs the two continued to step in time, circling around so they were always facing one another no matter how much one tried to come in from an angle. With all the time spent idly sizing one another up, the crowd of soldiers grew impatient. They started to shout and holler, demanding that things proceed so they could get back to bed. With the rising excitement of the crowd, the alien creatures became restless as well. In their cells, they began to stir and shuffle. The small spider-like ones crawled and scuttled over one another; the lumbering red ones threw their bodies against their confines; and the giant, armored leviathan let loose a loud roaring cry, its head beginning to spin at a quickened pace.\n\nDaxton just [i]had[/i] to get those things out of there. He did his best, though, to keep his attention focused on dealing with Garrison. One thing at a time, he thought.\n\nDaxton had been studying Aikido for three years, and it was an interesting fighting style that relied on careful attention to an opponent’s incoming attacks. It was a defensive discipline rather than what someone might call a “fighting style,” requiring more than just swinging fists or throwing kicks. For being blind, Daxton had gotten very good at watching people. When he was interested in someone, he took cues from things like the way they walked, or if they had a habit of turning their head a certain way. Most people wouldn’t even know Daxton was watching thanks to his STOP, and it didn’t take him long to think of ways to maneuver around a person if he found it necessary. Normally he had more time, however, than he did with Garrison. What would normally take weeks, Daxton tried to cram into a few minutes.\n\nOne couldn’t deny the man’s poise. Garrison carried himself confidently and with a constant imposing presence he used to intimidate his men without really lifting a finger. The bear was raw power, large and heavy with strength. To Daxton’s benefit, that made him sluggish. Sure, Garrison could throw a punch proper and knew just where to place his feet at all times, but he was encumbered under his own weight. As strong as he was, it was all thanks to a sort of genetic manipulation – and probably muscle steroids, growth hormones, and other things pumped into him at the fetal stages. The modern human body wasn’t made to handle a build like Garrison’s; and even if the man had the force of a runaway train made of muscle slabs and thickened fat, something underneath couldn’t maintain it. The short temper the man had was probably just one side-effect of whatever happened to him, but there had to be something more, something Daxton could exploit.\n\nDaxton had no other choice but to prod and see what happened. He was literally going to poke the bear, bringing that old adage to life.\n\nDaxton ducked down and stepped forward, throwing himself into a punch that Garrison simply… accepted. He took it right in his gut, which for being so round was not as soft as one might expect. Daxton’s fist stopped dead and Garrison only grunted. The bear raised a mighty fist to bring down on Daxton from straight above, forcing the boy to leap back out of range, lest he find that fist in the back of his neck. Daxton didn’t give Garrison any time to recover, and was quicker than the older man when he came back in and gave him one left hook right in the jaw. That had impact, and Garrison’s head jerked aside.\n\nThe old man’s muscles made it too difficult for him to rise. It made sense; even if Garrison’s legs were strong, the bulk of his strength and weight were focused on his torso. Daxton noticed this as his opponent shifted his stance. His legs suffered a bit of a drag.\n\nThe young boy stepped back several paces and held out his hand flat. He curled his fingers in a clear, goading gesture.\n\nGarrison rushed forwards, pushing off and gaining momentum fast, pushing his shoulders into a charge. He went from being a bear to being a runaway train in mere moments. Daxton quickly hustled to step back further, extending the charge between him and Garrison right to the edge of the crowd where he was forced to stop. Garrison had to push that much harder to go that much further, and in doing so his momentum became too much for his legs to maintain. He was at that point getting away from himself. He had no choice but to thrust his fist toward Daxton when he was within arm’s reach. It was a left straight, and Daxton had positioned his whole body parallel with Garrison’s, his stance a straight line of specifically positioned footing and hips. He stepped further out to the left, and Garrison passed him by.\n\nDaxton touched the man’s wrist, gripped it, and pulled it. Garrison began to flounder. Daxton grabbed Garrison’s arm and guided it, manipulating the man all too easily to turn just short of running face-first into one of his comrades. With an almost fluid motion Daxton spun the man by wrenching his wrist, guiding him to the ground where Garrison fell flat on his front. Wasting no time, Daxton stepped over the bear’s large body, took hold of his sausage-like thumb in one hand and the rest of his fingers in the other, and pulled until he heard a pop. Garrison’s thumb had been effectively dislocated.\n\nThe way the man screamed in pain was surprisingly brief. He absorbed the pain swiftly, sucking it in through grit teeth. The kid let him go, and the old bear turned to his side to grab him before he got away. Using his damaged hand and suffering through the pain of doing so, Garrison grabbed Daxton by his arm and held it. Try as he might, the kid was stuck then. Garrison’s grip was iron.\n\nThis allowed Garrison all the time in the world to stand, ignoring Daxton’s fussing like a father would a young child’s. Once the man was on his feet, he reared back his other fist and sent it crashing into Daxton’s face. The boy was knocked senseless, hearing something in his jaw snap and experiencing a static feedback from his STOP. Garrison released him to allow the boy to drunkenly stumble around as his mind reeled from the impact. His legs wobbled and he collapsed to the ground – the dirt and leaves felt all too comfortable, and his body didn’t want to move.\n\nGarrison spit into the dirt, then took a deep breath as he gripped his thumb with his other hand and wrenched it back into place with a second loud pop. He didn’t cry out, but his expression hinted at the sharp pain that had shot up his whole arm, as did his shaking fingers.\n\n“You little shit,” Garrison shook his hand out, “Where did you learn that?”\n\nDaxton didn’t answer. He was still trying to determine if he actually felt pain in his face or not, or if anything on his features had been improperly rearranged. Something had. His jaw was loose, sagging at an awkward angle. Pain rushed in and cold liquid dribbled from his lips. He couldn’t even grit his teeth to muscle through the pain, as any tension in his jaw muscles was met with excruciating pangs. When he heard Garrison’s weighted footfalls, the boy first tried moving his arms. Doing so made it feel like he was dragging through a vat of sticky honey. It could have been that he was lightly concussed, or just in so much pain around his face that his brain was swimming in adrenaline. In spite of it all, Daxton shook as he pushed his elbows under his body and began to raise himself upright.\n\nDaxton heaved, spittle and blood escaping his lips as he sat up straight. He was sent back down to the Earth by a large boot crushing his chest, slamming his back into the ground. Garrison stood over him, staring down at the boy. “You lose, punk,” He said, not even smiling with his victory, “Guess maybe I was a bit too rough on you though. How are you supposed to tell me where the Inkling is when your face is all busted up?”\n\nDaxton’s teeth met in an awkward spacing, but grinding them produced a clicking, grinding sensation. His face throbbed and ached in a manner he’d never felt before. The pain was tremendous, but in his mind he reminded himself that pain was temporary. Short of sending his body into a state of shock, pain wasn’t something to be afraid of. He’d scraped knees, broken an arm, and been punched enough times that he knew pain would simply fade over time… so he stopped being afraid of it at some point in his life. He couldn’t quite remember when, but he had, and it was that utter lack of fear that pressed him to plant his hand against his jaw and push until it popped back into place with a disconcerting crack.\n\n“Gngh!” He cried out regardless of how unafraid he was, whimpering like a pup as he let his arm drop to his side. If Garrison could relocate a bone, so could he, and he hoped the feat would be a surprise to his opponent at least. Of course, at that point Daxton’s STOP was failing to transfer full signals. His vision skipped and fizzled as his brain stopped receiving bits of transfer. He was getting dizzy, and about to lose consciousness.\n\nGarrison watched as Daxton’s hand shakily grabbed hold of his pant leg and gripped tightly, and his eyes blinked in some surprise.\n\n“I’m afraid that’s far enough.”\n\nA youthful voice rose up over the crowd of silenced spectators, perking ears and drawing gazes to its source. Garrison looked up from Daxton’s body and watched as the crowd parted toward the other end of the camp. There, by the power generator, stood a boy unlike no other. He had a long mane of red hair, but no fur to speak of. His features were sharp, shaped differently than any human being on the planet. More accurately, he was unlike any human being [i]left[/i] on the planet. Moonlight played off his skin and made his jade eyes shine. Compared to the crowd, he looked imposing – he was broad, despite being so lithe. The segmented red shirt hid little of his shape and showed strong abdominal muscles.\n\n“A man your age should know better than to bear down on someone so much younger than he is,” The youth said.\n\n“It’s that pre-splicer.”\n\n“That super hero from forever ago.”\n\n“That’s Captain Comet!”\n\nGarrison lifted a brow to the crowd, then focused his attention on the human. “Impossible-to-get-an-interview Jacent Danger,” He said, lifting his foot off Daxton’s body, “Guess you’re not out for a stroll?”\n\n“Oh, I was just enjoying some of the night air and had to come see one of the future’s biggest attractions,” Jacent glared, “The camp hidden in the dark full of illegal weaponry and villainous scum.”\n\nGarrison puckered his lips in thought. “Well, I guess it’s in your nature to make big, heroic speeches,” He said.\n\n“How’s this?” Jacent raised an eyebrow and rested his hand gently on the thrumming machine providing power for the camp’s slight need. “Step away from that boy, or you’re going to regret it.”\n\n“I… don’t think so, Ink-lover,” Garrison snarled.\n\nJacent turned his hand to gently place his fingertips against the side of the generator, hand flat. “Don’t make me count,” He said.\n\nThe crowd immediately took up what arms they had. Not every person there had a firearm, but the odds were numerous-to-one, and not in Jacent’s favour. Even as the weaponry hummed with the intent to fire, Jacent didn’t move a muscle. His stillness rewarded him with a moment of hesitance as no weapon went off either. All eyes were on him then.\n\n“What’s goin’ on out there?” Laila asked, trying almost ironically to climb onto Casey, though from her end of the camp she could only see the backs of numerous heads, “What’s he doin’?”\n\n“Listen,” Garrison said, “You’re not from around here, so I’ll let you in on a little something. Those friends of yours are bad news for Earth. Inklings are dangerous. We’re sitting on the perfect time to give them the boot and go back to normal. If you raise a fist against us, you’re on their side. Aren’t you supposed to be human?”\n\nJacent’s eyes befell the scene of Daxton’s nigh-unconscious body, blood running down his face, eyes covered by his hat, worn and ragged. “I would ask you the same question,” He answered, then began his count; “One…”\n\n“You are… you are really pushing it, kid,” Garrison chuckled wryly.\n\n“Two,” Jacent continued, unwavering.\n\n“Oh to hell with this!” Garrison readied his own weapon, and in the time he had to grab and raise it from where it hung off his chest, Jacent curled his fingers into a sudden fist, driving it into the machine with a sudden unleash of energy blowing past him, throwing his ruby red hair around. All at once, the hard force containment fields around the camp faded, flickering into nothingness as the generators that spawned them powered down. The alien creatures once contained within those fields seemed to crumple outward, not expecting their constraints to suddenly vanish. They tumbled onto heaps atop one another, as did Laila and Casey when their resistance disappeared. Jacent removed his fist from within the machine with metal bits and bolts crumbling away.\n\n“FIRE!” Garrison roared, unleashing a hail of force projectiles in Jacent’s direction. Jacent ducked down behind the machine and took cover as the generator started to loose chunks of metal and tubing, fizzling and crackling and bursting with energy as it was pelted by the suppression rifles’ force bullets. The crowd advanced, though only briefly as they were beset by the alien creatures flying into a rage. They poured out from all over the camp, skittering, shuffling, and outright trouncing from their pens in a chorus of honks, screeches, and other strange, alien sounds.\n\nWhat followed was utter chaos. In moments the soldiers found themselves fending off their would-be captives. Gun-toting men and women found themselves backing away from the slow advances of lumbering red giants, while struggling when revoltingly violet, multi-legged creatures leapt up and clung to their faces, arms, or torsos. They were grabbed, bashed, scratched, and beaten, their once almost-organized firing line falling into disarray. Some were grabbed around their ankles by slimy green tendrils and were brought to the ground where they were dragged back into the forest, clawing and screaming every inch of the way.\n\nGarrison had stepped forward with an intent of advancing on Jacent, and continued firing at the young man as he tumbled out from behind his cover and sprinted through the resulting battle. Garrison dashed to pursue him, but was stopped when the hulking, chitin form of the biggest, maddest monster in that camp swept him off his feet with one mighty arm. Garrison growled and hung on, dangling as the monster rose him into the air. Bones within its insectoid jaws began to spin like blades in a blender, and the hulking creature was intent to descend one of Garrison’s feet into the mess. Letting out a roaring cry, Garrison turned his weapon on the beast’s mouth with one hand and began to fire wildly into it.\n\nAll the while, Daxton just laid there, unable to move. Surely, he thought, he’d be stepped on, and he very nearly had as the hulking bug-ape creature stumbled under Garrison’s assault. Daxton very narrowly turned to avoid one clawed foot stomping into the ground next to his head. He wouldn’t have been able to keep that up, but his savior came in the form of a yellow tendril that lashed out from behind some tents and sticking to his chest like glue. Dumbly, Daxton tried to grab at it, but barely moved a muscle before the tendril reeled back and took him sailing through the dirt toward the sticky thing’s source. The boy nearly took out some well-placed tarps as he was reeled in like a fish.\n\nDaxton tumbled when the thing gave him some slack and his blurred vision showed him the visage of one strange, lime-green creature whose features shined in the moonlight, with yellow eyes that looked painted on staring big and bold at him. Accompanying that thing was a similarly jello-ish thing of bubblegum pink with big ears and solid white eyes that glowed brightly in whatever light there was. Their shapes spun and doubled, and Daxton couldn’t make out what they were… the only point of reference had had was Duplex. They looked a lot like Duplex, except… much, much brighter.\n\n“Could you not drag him like that? Honestly, you’re likely to injure him more!” A posh, girlish voice said.\n\n“Schowwy!” Came a more masculine, gravelly tone, speaking as if the creature’s tongue was stuck past its lips. Their voices sounded strange, but that could have just been Daxton’s rattled brain.\n\nThe pink thing took Daxton’s vision, leaning over his body. “Just hold still, darling, we’re here to help,” Came the female voice again, matching some vaguely registered movements of the bubblegum thing’s white mouth. Hands gripped Daxton’s head and gently lifted it, then one grasped the back of his hat and began pulling it up over his head to remove it. Once it was off, however, Daxton’s head was promptly dropped again.\n\n“GOOD HEAVENS WHAT DID THEY DO TO HIS EYES?!” The female voice screamed in horror.\n\n“Aie-yie-yie! Mis oidos!” The male voice cringed, “Shh, chika! Someone’s going to hear your wails!”\n\n“I-I-I just, I just...! Oh my goodness, oh no,” The female panicked. Daxton couldn’t see a thing at that point and his hearing was sliding between clarity and muffled sounds. Commotion from around the camp threatened to drown out his saviors’ voices. Sounds of screams, hollers, and Garrison barking orders throughout the camp rose so loudly, it was a wonder that even his acute hearing could pick them up. He laid there as they fussed over him, before finally feeling a salve-like substance get smeared onto his face. He scrunched his brow in confusion, not sure what was happening to him, but as the goop was rubbed into his face it soaked in and disappeared. It must have been some form of medicine, because in moments the pain he felt began to subside. His head began to clear and even the aches in his body felt as if they were simply disappearing.\n\n“Oh, this isn’t good, his eyes…!” The female fussed, “I can’t fix that! Why, they must have torn them right out! The brutes! What horrid animals!”\n\n“Who could do something like that?!” The gravelly male seemed to tremble.\n\nPain throbbed still, but much more dully in Daxton’s face. “Mrn… Anophthalmia,” He muttered.\n\n“What?” The female voice questioned.\n\n“Anophthalmia,” Daxton repeated as he tried moving his arms. He found he could push himself up with ease, though his senses were still a little fuzzy.\n\n“Ano… ano… pulthamia?” The male voice repeated, “What’s that?”\n\n“Oh! Ohhh, that’s Anophthalmia. AN-OFF-THAL-MI-AH,” The girl said, “It means that he doesn’t have any eyes. Oh thank goodness, I was frightened half to death.”\n\n“Thank goodness?! That means he has no eyes!” The boy croaked.\n\n“My hat’s a STOP,” Daxton held out his hand, “Let me have it back.”\n\n“That makes worlds of sense,” The girl breathed, “Here you are.”\n\nRetrieving his hat, Daxton was quick to put it back on his head. After a short few moments, his vision returned with some static that cleared out. What he saw sitting in front of him made him recoil, scuttling backward through the dirt with one arm raised to fend off any sudden attacks. The two teenagers in front of him were Inklings! They were just like Duplex, except one was a glossy pink bat with white eyes and mouth, and a white scarf around her neck that looked more like some shiny taffy string than anything. The other was a reptile, possibly some sort of iguana, whose inky features were a shockingly bright green with yellows eyes and mouth. They seemed just as startled as Daxton was at his reaction.\n\n“No! No bro, we’re not bad guys!” The reptile Inkling said, “We’re good guys!”\n\n“Yes, don’t be alarmed,” The bat added, “We’re from Locksmouth, and we’re here to save you from… from whatever is going on around here! My name is Samantha, and my friend here is Max.”\n\nDaxton’s attention was suddenly drawn toward the other end of the camp, looking away from his saviors. “I gotta help my friends!” He shouted, turning to scramble onto his feet despite protests from the Inklings. He was up and racing through the camp in moments, rushing through the chaos that had erupted thanks to the release of the aliens. He just barely ducked out of the way of a rifle blast that had flown past him, and leapt over a slimy green tentacle as he disappeared from sight.\n\n“Well he could have at least gone around [i]behind[/i] the tents!” Samantha huffed, standing and brushing her knees off.\n\n“Let’s go!” Max bounced to his feet like a spring and scooped Samantha up in his arm, making her squeak in surprise. He lashed out his tongue – a sticky, yellow thing – and connected to a nearby tree branch, swinging up and away with his friend in tow. She shouted the whole way as Max swung from tree to tree using his tongue as a rope.\n\n“Eeek! I’m perfectly capable of…! Ahhh! Max!!” Sam screamed and flailed as she was whisked away.\n\n-\n--\n-\n\n“So how do you prepare for a party in space?”\n\nKenny smiled, big and cheesy, as he looked down at Quincey. The rotund pig tried not to look miserable and sore as she looked up at him from where her head rested in his lap.\n\n“Um… I don’t know, how?” She asked.\n\n“You [b]planet[/b],” Kenny finished his joke with an almost malicious grin.\n\n“Ugh, that’s terrible,” Quincey clenched her eyes shut to absorb the blunt impact of Kenny’s joke.\n\n“Okay, what do you call a fake noodle?” Kenny continued.\n\nQuincey opened her tired eyes and looked up at him. “What?” She asked.\n\n“An [b]impasta[/b].”\n\n“Oooogh,” Quincey hid her face beneath her hands, “No more!”\n\n“What do you call an alligator in a vest?” Kenny asked.\n\nNot waiting for her answer he said, “An [b]investigator[/b].”\n\n“I’m crying,” Quincey whined.\n\nThe pair had been at it for hours. After getting stuck in a barn-like storehouse and locked up like prisoners, Quincey concluded that falling asleep was something she needed to avoid. Inside her was an angry, impatient creature that seemed more than willing to take advantage of any lapse in her defense. Duplex would take over her body again and do something, [i]anything[/i] to get out of that prison and on its way to Locksmouth, consequences be damned. All Quincey had to do, she thought, was stay awake to avoid such a thing from happening. There was no way of knowing what the residents of Clarkston would do with her, but the idea of setting Duplex loose seemed less favourable.\n\nShe remembered what it did at her home, how it hurt her mother. Something like Duplex was dangerous and unpredictable, no matter how good its intentions may have been. Quincey wasn’t ready to subject anyone to that if she could help it. Thankfully, Duplex had been silent since their initial locking-up. That was a good sign, but Quincey wasn’t going to let her guard down for a moment. The only problem was that she was tired and cold, and Kenny had been providing warmth along with his support. Quincey could have fallen asleep at any moment – it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d done so with Kenny. He was deceptively comforting, despite being so prickly more often than not.\n\nThat was strange. Usually Kenny yelled at her, scolded her, and chastised her for things like her eating habits and helpless tendencies. He had done that right up until they had fallen into the river and been carried to Clarkston. After that, Kenny became nothing but supportive… but Quincey couldn’t help but worry. At moments like just then, when he fell into a silent lull between his forced bad jokes to make her smile, he trembled. Sometimes his breathing became heavy and he’d calm himself down, sometimes his words were strained. Quincey noticed it all, but had been afraid to say anything… at least until he went quiet again, and she needed something to keep her awake.\n\n“Kenny,” She said, squinting at his silhouette in the darkness, “It’s going to be okay.”\n\nKenny sniffed. “How do you know?” He asked.\n\n“Well… um, you’re here with me,” She answered, “Right?”\n\n“Yeah,” He said, “I just… I don’t know what to do. So, yeah, me being here is great. I’m just useless. What if something happens to you?”\n\n“Duplex won’t kill me,” Quincey reached up and found one of the boy’s hands, linking her fingers between his and holding the back of his hand against her chest. He seemed to relax, but just a little.\n\n“I’m not gonna rule that out though,” He said, “And at this point I’m more worried about other people than that thing. That thing’s at least been in you for, like, a week. These nature-loving morons are likely to come in here and stick you with a pitchfork. If they don’t, those stupid mercenaries or whatever the heck they are will come and…”\n\n“But it’s okay. Daxton will come and we’ll be okay,” Quincey forced a tired smile.\n\nKenny sighed. “Look,” He said, “Daxton’s great and all, really. I’ve never seen him back down from anything, sure. But this is different. We have to accept the idea that he might not actually make it here and do something ourselves.”\n\n“Yes, well… if we get out we can always go up the river and find them,” Quincey agreed, “But Daxton will make it. Daxton always makes it. You remember when the kids at the elementary got their ball stuck on the roof and Daxton climbed up the wall to get it down. Or when he saved me from getting hit by that lunch truck. He saved you after you picked a fight with Laila’s old friends, too.”\n\n“Yeah but this isn’t any of that!” Kenny growled as mean as a rodent could, “This is people with weapons and aliens and we are locked in a country warehouse that’s freezing cold and nobody’s bringing us any food and there’s chains on the door!”\n\nKenny took a breath after exhausting his air. “This is bigger than stuff like that,” He said, “I don’t care if he can take on all of Laila’s old pack at once. This isn’t Laila’s old pack.”\n\n“That doesn’t matter,” Quincey said curtly, “It doesn’t matter what it is, Daxton won’t quit. I’ve known him longer than you have.”\n\n“What makes him so goddamn special anyway?” Kenny grit his teeth, “Why do you like him so much?!”\n\nThe pair went quiet, Quincey taking in Kenny’s angry tone and Kenny trying to retreat from it. After a moment’s thought, Quincey shook her head. “I guess… I’m just happy for him,” She said, “It used to be that he wasn’t like that at all.”\n\nKenny huffed, “Yeah? And what was he like then, huh?”\n\n“Let’s see…” Quincey thought, “When I first went to live with Daxton…”\n\nQuincey thought back to one of the strangest points in her life, something she remembered being very uncomfortable with. When she was born, her parents had somehow managed to accidentally conceive her. That was nothing short of a miracle considering most people were fighting to have a child at all, let alone stumbling upon one by mistake. Her mother and father were still buried in their studies when they got together and had Quincey – they weren’t even married at the time, and their relationship had been in an awkward zone between romantic and casual. They had three years of schooling left to go through to their medical professions, and so Quincey needed the help of her parents’ packs to ensure she was raised proper.\n\nIt was Edward Kemberge, the beaver that had known Quincey’s father, Walter, since their own elementary years, who came through and agreed to take Quincey home. This was after a few years, and Quincey had gotten to the age of three under tremendous struggle as her parents tried to just make it work. There were plenty of day-programs and sitters to watch over the girl, but she needed something more permanent, more settled-in, and most importantly at home in Harbington. Edward and his husband, Eddie, had just adopted their own young boy and the idea was fairly simple – Quincey could stay with them and ideally get along with their new pup, Daxton. Before she even knew what was happening, Quincey found herself taken out of Locksmouth and the busy university life of her parents and returned home to Harbington to live on the residential outskirts with the Kemberges.\n\nHer memory was a little fuzzy, but she thought she must have been very sad. It was hard to tell from any standpoint just what her parents thought about her. She was undoubtedly an accident and she had always felt in her early years that there was some kind of disconnect between her and them because of it. Any vague memory she had of arriving at this brand new home with two would-be fathers she’d never met and a strange adopted boy felt lonely. It was like moving from strangers to strangers.\n\nShe was shy, but like most kids at that age she tried to gravitate toward someone of her age-group. Daxton back then, however, was an aloof boy, a real loner who didn’t seem comfortable with anyone. At the time, Quincey never realized that he was going through something very similar to her own situation. To her, he was just there, and that meant she was supposed to be there with him… plus he was strange. Quincey couldn’t help but be curious about the boy.\n\nShe’d never met someone who didn’t have eyes before, and Daxton seemed distressed by it. She didn’t understand as a kid how Daxton’s STOP allowed him to see, and she definitely didn’t understand why sometimes Daxton’s fathers would take the STOP away from him for a while and try to acclimate him to life without sight. Whenever they did though, Quincey watched the worst of Daxton emerge from that quiet canine shell of a boy. He became helpless and scared, even when his parents were right there with him trying to ease him into simply walking or crawling around without being able to see.\n\nQuincey felt so sad watching that. The memory of her sadness was crystal clear, unlike most things from her childhood. She hated watching Daxton struggle and she wanted so badly to help him, but she couldn’t budge from her spot on the sidelines; she was too scared to. Eventually she turned five, barely getting to know Daxton in the almost two years she lived with his family. She’d grown to like Edward and Eddie, but Daxton maintained a role as a grumpy brother who wanted nothing to do with any of them. There was just one thing that changed all that…\n\nA log.\n\nAt five years old, Daxton’s motor skills had grown enough that his sensory-deprivation therapy called for the greater situational awareness of balance. The exercise was straightforward: without his STOP, Daxton had to navigate a balancing beam. Edward and Eddie set up a log on two stumps out in their back yard and took Daxton out there every day to walk him across it. Quincey watched from the sidelines as the boy and his parents went through routine exercises made to show Daxton that the world wasn’t something to be scared of when it all went dark. When it came to the log, however, Daxton’s balance was horrendous. His number of steps taken to cross it without help paled in comparison to the times he fell off.\n\nEventually he quit. After falling off and scraping his knees and elbows half a million times, he swore he’d never cross that log.\n\n“I couldn’t just sit there any more, I didn’t really care if he didn’t like me…” Quincey explained her story to Kenny, “I just… he needed help. So I… helped.”\n\nWhen Quincey and Daxton were out playing in the back yard, Quincey started trying to talk Daxton into going across the log. Naturally at first he didn’t agree; rather he got angry with Quincey for trying to force him. For a while his anger curbed her enthusiasm, but eventually she started getting up on that log herself to walk across it, to show Daxton it could be done. Unfortunately, like him, her balance wasn’t very good. She fell off more often than not. She bumped her head, scraped her knees, fell hard on the ground… She cried and cried in pain, but eventually she would just get up and try again. This went on for a while, and eventually Daxton noticed.\n\nHe started to watch her, quietly. When she fell enough times, he started helping her up.\n\n“Why are you doing that?” He would ask.\n\nHer answer was so simple at the time. If she could do it, then he could too.\n\n“I’m not good at a lot,” She would say, “But Commander Benson says ‘Never say that you can’t!’”\n“But what if you can’t?” He’d ask.\n\n“But maybe you can!” She’d say.\n\nAt the cost of a couple weeks of cuts, bruises, scrapes, and a more major injury, Quincey finally got Daxton up onto that log. She’d been afraid of getting hurt, but eventually it paid off when Daxton started getting up there on his own and taking a few steps without his sight to help him.\n\nDaxton would wobble around and fall, but falling wasn’t so bad. Quincey made a wonderful cushion, even when she was just five years old. When he came crashing down to Earth he didn’t hit the hard, grassy ground. Instead he’d flatten poor Quincey under him and find himself wrapped up in her little arms. She hugged him and doted on him when he got scared and upset, and eventually he stopped being scared or upset. When he was ready to go, she’d let him go and he’d get back up there only to fall on her again.\n\nDays and days and days…\n\nA twisted ankle. Three pairs of broken glasses. Five boxes of kids’ bandages. Torn clothes. Shared baths. Nighttime cuddles. Hand-holding. More falls. More soft landings. More steps. More progress.\n\nEventually Daxton’s balance training was left entirely in Quincey’s capable hands. Edward and Eddie sat back to watch as Daxton made it one step at a time.\n\nThe very last time Daxton fell off that log, it was off the other side of it.\n\nQuincey smiled, “I wasn’t there to catch him that time, but he got up and ran right to me. I think it was that moment he started changing. All of a sudden he was trying to do everything just for the sake of doing it; and I knew I wanted to be there every time he accomplished something. I loved watching him get good at things. Eventually he… he didn’t need me anymore. But even though he didn’t need me he… kept coming back. He started telling me that I could do things, and… I was really happy.”\n\nKenny blinked a few times, his fingers stroking through Quincey’s hair as her head rested still on his lap. “So… it’s because of you,” He said, “Figures.”\n\n“Figures?” Quincey asked.\n\nKenny nodded. “Yep,” He said, “You’re always the one. He does everything for you. So… because of that you never doubt him? What if he actually just… can’t? What if something happens?”\n\n“I just have to believe nothing bad will happen,” Quincey shrugged, “It’s… just a risk I have to take. I have to put all my heart into believing in him because I love him. I always have.”\n\nKenny lifted his gaze and turned it toward the closed barn doors. “Love, huh,” He muttered, “And you’re not worried?”\n\n“He loves me too,” Quincey yawned.\n\nKenny caught her yawn and yawned in kind. “What does that have to do with anything?” He asked.\n\n“I think it has to do with everything,” The girl answered.\n\n“Sounds kinda naïve to me,” Kenny closed his eyes involuntarily and let his head fall back against the wall, “It’d just make me worry more.”\n\nQuincey shifted along the dirt floor. “I know,” She said.\n\nRunning out of words to say, the two fell silent. Eventually the only sound that was made was the gentle snort of a pig-girl’s snore.\n\n-\n--\n-\n\n“Stop right there!” An armed doe raised her ASPR-20 at the corgi boy running through the chaos that had erupted around her, only remaining vaguely aware of her orders to restrain the boy and his friends. Her mind was a million places at once, her attention pulled by the shouts of her comrades and the firing of other rifles like hers. Maybe that was why she didn’t fire right away, or maybe she just didn’t have the heart to. Either way, Daxton was upon her before she was ready. The boy shoved her rifle aside and drove his shoulder into her gut. Her face made a comical expression as the air from her lungs was forced out of her face. Daxton lifted her off the ground, spun her, and came crashing down to earth with her. Her back slammed off the ground and her gut received another shoulder. She was far too busy coughing and gasping for air to stop him then.\n\n“Out of my way!” Daxton shouted even as he turned away from the woman and continued his mad dash, pushing past some other grunts attempting to get their bearings in the alien monster mash. It didn’t take him long to reach the far side of the camp where he found the containment field once holding his friends captive lowered, and his friends were nowhere to be found.\n\nDaxton whipped his head left and right to frantically sweep the area for any signs of Laila and Casey. He saw Max and Sam first, however, as the lime green reptile boy latched his tongue onto a branch and used some inherent elasticity to propel himself into a low swing where he dropped Sam off not far from him. He continued for a bit, only to have a low-hanging tree branch suddenly release from a cocked-back position and slam into his chest like a baseball bat. He made a funny wheezing sound as he was flung backwards and onto the dirt, his tongue falling limp like wet spaghetti over his head and behind him.\n\nFrom behind the tree marched Laila. “Got’chya you interstellar varmint!” She shouted, ready to dash before she saw Daxton staring at her. Her face lit up in anxious excitement and she hurried over to him. Casey stepped out from behind the tree to follow, and Sam hurried to Max to see if he was alright.\n\n“We gotta get outta here!” Laila yelled as she snatched up Daxton’s arm, “Before anyone goes seein’ us!”\n\n“Those guys are helping us!” Daxton scolded the giraffe’s hasty actions, gesturing to the pink and green jelly-people nearby, “They say they’re from Locksmouth! They must be Echelon’s guys!”\n\n“Eh?” Laila stopped in her tracks and she turned her attention to the Inklings. They stared back at her with disapproving faces.\n\n“Owwww…” Max coughed, “With friends like that!”\n\nLaila’s face melted into a wide-eyed ‘oh!’ and she cringed. “Oh! Oh…! Um! I’m mighty sorry ya’ll!” She waved to them.\n\n“Those are the ones alright,” Casey interjected hurriedly, “We can trust them. I think. We should stick close to them, and… is the one out there the pre-splicer?”\n\nCasey looked to Daxton for an answer, who just cocked his head a little. “What? I don’t know,” Daxton said, “Maybe. Whatever, let’s just go! We’re gonna find Quincey, just follow the river!”\n\nThe group took off quickly toward the river, past Sam and Max who got up to follow them as quickly as their legs could carry them. It was a great distance to the river, the camp having been nestled in the clearing amidst many trees in order to stay out of sight. Pushing through the thick brush, they arrived at the rushing water just when the fighting became quieter and more distanced. There they saw their ticket – a flatbed vehicle mounted with a turret weapon, just like the ones they had seen before being taken to the camp as prisoners.\n\nIt seemed the driver inside had powered up the system but hadn’t moved the vehicle at all, and their partner in the bed of the vehicle had his weapon tuned toward the camp. Both had been watching, quiet and out of the way, as their comrades battled the sudden outbreak of the alien creatures. Both had been too afraid to help, uncertain as to whether or not their team could even handle that level of chaos. They were ready to turn tail and run, but wanted to sit it out and see how things ended up. They didn’t expect to see the three prisoners and two Inklings rush out of the brush at them – both groups were caught entirely by surprise.\n\nThe turret handler swung the lightweight weapon on its stand to aim at the group, only to have a sticky appendage latch onto his chest, caked in some yellow goop. A hard pull took him off his feet and sent him over the edge of the flatbed and tumbling toward the ground. He hit his head on the way down and flopped onto the ground in a state of disorientation, rendering the immediate danger of sudden turret fire inert. The driver stepped out of the vehicle in a hurry as Daxton and Laila rushed in, not having enough time to ready his weapon before the giraffe and corgi were on him. Laila grabbed the panda’s gun and lifted it high up – so high he was forced to release it. He instead tried to turn his hands down on Daxton, who had pinned him to the truck. He struggled for a while to force the boy off, and was so distracted he hadn’t noticed the small pink bat sneak in beside him.\n\nLifting her leg, Sam ejected a mighty kick to the man’s knee that brought him down. He slipped out of his rifle’s harness and fell almost limp, allowing Daxton to guide him to the ground, mount him, and feed him repeated punches until he stopped moving.\n\n“Take the vehicle!” Casey shouted, hurrying around the back of it to the passenger side.\n\nSam climbed into the cabin, and Laila pushed Daxton aside with one arm, the incapacitated panda man’s rifle in her other hand. “Ya’ll hop in back,” She said, “I’m drivin’.”\n\nDaxton, not one to argue, frantically climbed up the side of the truck and threw himself over the guard rail into the flatbed. Max scampered on in behind him, landing and quickly pulling the back hatch closed.\n\n“Guh…” Daxton panted, rolling into the turret stand as he tried to right himself.\n\nThe truck lifted from the ground as the grav skiffs hummed to life. They were shifted harshly into thrust position with a loud thud, thrumming with building power before firing off like cannons into the night. The vehicle shot forward at a breakneck acceleration that sent Max and Daxton tumbling to the back of the vehicle, hitting the hatch with a harsh bang.\n\nLaila gripped the steering wheel tightly, rifle in her lap. Sam grabbed her arm from next to her, where she sat in the middle between passenger and driver. “Hold on a moment!” She said, “We can’t leave without Jacent!”\n\n“Who?” Laila shot a look to the inked bat.\n\n“Our friend,” Sam said, “He’s in the thick of it right now, we simply must go back for him!”\n\n“Can we really drive through the middle of all that?” Casey gripped the dash for dear life.\n\n“We sure can!” Laila said, reaching to push a few buttons on the dashboard console, then grabbing hold of the shift stick and cranking it. The skiffs hissed in protest as they were angled sharply to suddenly lift the truck higher into the air, bearing more g-forces down on Max and Daxton as the angle of the truck rose nose skyward. Even Sam squeaked at the sudden shift in altitude, every action Laila taking making the truck jerk and grind its machinery. “More appropriate, we can drive right [i]into[/i] the middle of that!” Laila said.\n\nThe truck evened out in the sky with a sudden wave as its back-end caught up with the rest of it. The vertical fishtail maneuver threw Max over the back of the truck, but he was quick to latch onto the metal and keep from falling. Daxton only half went over, and he grabbed Max’s strange, gooey arms and hauled him back into the bed.\n\nFrom that high up, the entire scene played out before them. Sam climbed into Laila’s lap to stick her head out the driver’s side window with the giraffe, able to see the entire thing from a top-down perspective. The fighting was actually dying down. The armed men and women of the camp had organized themselves enough that that they began containing the escaped alien beasts. In the middle of all the rifle fire and shouting, Jacent Danger was skillfully taking out one enemy after another. Whether it was a gun-toting wannabe soldier or something from the deeper recesses of space, a well-placed leg sweep or bone-shattering thrust of a fist was enough to take them down. It was easy to spot him, as he’d cleared out a wide circle around him. Sam pointed anyway, excitedly bouncing in Laila’s lap.\n\n“There! There he is!” Sam squealed, quickly grabbing the edge of the open window and lifting her body to push more of her torso out the side. Laila’s entire view was blocked by glossy pink bat. “Max!” Sam shouted back, “Max?!”\n\n“Hoy, chicaaaa!!” Max shouted back.\n\n“We need to pick up Jacent!” Sam yelled back, “Make noise and wave your arms or something as we swing by!”\n\nMax thought for a moment about his response as he hopped up on top of the truck’s cabin. He struck a pose then, legs spread and arms flexed. “Super-Secret Mission: Get Attention is go!” He declared, “Fire when ready!”\n\n~(_)~\n\nWithout so much as a voiced grunt, Jacent Danger dispatched another in a long line of enemies by spin-kicking a leaping Crawler right out of mid-air just seconds before it could make contact with the back of his head. As the former Captain Comet, Jacent’s experience with large-scale encounters rife with chaos such as then was notably lesser than one-on-one battles. Normally he had one target, one goal, one villain he could focus on with laser precision. The Spidress, Sabotaj… cat-burglars and assassins like that normally worked alone unless in a typical villain team-up grudge match. Large-scale encounters were often reserved for the Nhiloids and occasionally the animalistic underlings of Beastmaker.\n\nIn a battle filled with post-splice humans and alien creatures, it was hard not to link back to the memories of thwarting the old Beastmaker, Dr. Leonard Chu. Thoughts of that bled off into how different things were… his relationship with animal-human hybrids and the Nhiloids had changed so drastically since then; it was hard to feel nostalgic. Jacent wouldn’t be distracted from the fight though, his body working from muscle memory as he dodged, ducked, weaved, and disarmed his ninth gun-wielding opponent.\n\n“The hell are you doing, Ink-lover?!” Garrison’s grizzled voice barked over the commotion, drawing Jacent’s attention to the man. It seemed he’d survived his encounter with the Bugape creature, albeit a little worse for wear. His shirt had been torn to tatters, various cuts bleeding into his fur where it once covered. His weapon’s leather shoulder strap had been torn, but the weapon was not lost. His large chest heaved for breath, it sounded like he was wheezing. Jacent turned to face the bear directly, throwing away the weapon he’d taken.\n\n“You have to ask?” Jacent answered, “I was surprised when Locksmouth had its stash of weaponry during the invasion. It was my understanding that such things had been cast aside in favour of peace. For one, you are in direct violation of the laws and standards set by your own people; secondly, you’ve done so to take up a campaign filled with bigotry and hate toward a people who could very well be seen as seeking refuge from the broken remains of their once tyrannical rule.”\n\n“Refugees?!” Garrison spat, “Refugees don’t live inside the bodies of the people they’re getting protection with. They don’t invade somewhere before asking for refuge. The things, these Inklings… they’re bad news for humanity. They’re dividing us, between inked and non-inked.”\n\n“The only thing dividing you, is you,” Jacent responded, “You are allowing your fear to get the better of you. These Inklings aren’t unlike humans – they fear, they toil, just like everyone else. They have as much a right to a peaceful existence as we do.”\n\n“We? Ha! You’re counting yourself among us now?” Garrison laughed, “You’re a fossil, Danger!”\n\n“Then I have something in common with your outdated way of thinking,” Jacent’s frown turned into a scowl, “It would seem we haven’t weeded out every ugly aspect of humanity, even now.”\n\n“If you ask me, you oughta be thrown out on your ass with the rest of those alien freaks,” Garrison took up his weapon, the energy core within thrumming to life, “We don’t need throwbacks like you. You should’ve stayed in the past where you belong. Mark my words, you and those aliens? The second you decide you’re better than us, we’re gonna wish we had more of these.”\n\nThe man slightly lifted his rife in a gesture.\n\nJacent narrowed his eyes in study of the man, but something else caught his attention above him. He eased up, relaxing his posture and exiting his combat stance. “I am no better than anyone,” He said, “In fact, compared to humanity today, I may be worse off. I will never take the kindness they have shown me for granted, and I will never turn on them.”\n\n“Tch,” Garrison growled, “Where you go, trouble follows. That suits me just fine, I’m equipped to handle it – but the rest of us? We’re not all so lucky. Better we get rid of you now than regret it later.”\n\n“Greater than you have tried,” Jacent said.\n\nJacent stepped aside, not back or forward to get ready to fight, but simply aside as if he were waiting for something. Garrison, confused, turned his weapon upon the young man and was ready to fire, but the humming of his rifle’s core was swiftly drowned out by the rising sound of a fusion engine roaring in from the distance. Quickly, Garrison turned and looked skyward to see the brightened headlights of a truck bearing down at him at a tremendous speed. He barely was able to throw himself aside and out of the way of the truck’s hood as it slammed into the ground with a metallic [b]thunk[/b] and harshly evened out as the grav skiffs worked double-time to propel it back to its hover height. The vehicle swerved and raced toward Jacent, who had stepped back just far enough for the truck to pass. As it did, he leapt up onto it, taking hold of Max’s extended hand to pull himself on. The sticky green inked reptile remained positioned atop the truck’s cabin as if his feet were glued to it.\n\nJacent pushed his feet against the side of the truck as it sped away, and quickly climbed up on top of the cabin with Max. The two dropped back into the flatbed with Daxton and hunkered down for the ride as Laila maneuvered the vehicle around various combatants. They were smart enough to get out of the way as the truck barreled through the camp at high speeds, smashing through several tents along the way. Laila caused as much damage as possible just short of running people and aliens down, and once free at the other side of the camp, she pulled up and soared into the air once again. Several trees suffered at their higher branches as the large truck broke through them with ease. Wood and leaves were sent flying everywhere.\n\n“I thought you may have forgotten about me!” Jacent grinned to Max as he shielded his face from the shower of autumn leaves.\n\n“Nuh-uh, El Capitano!” Max saluted, a leaf sticking momentarily to his eye, “No man left behind!”\n\nJacent noticed Daxton then. The boy was holding tight to the side of the truck in an effort to not simply fall off. Daxton was staring… or at least Jacent thought he was. With that blue knit hat over his eyes, it was hard to tell just where Daxton was looking. Jacent addressed him, “Maybe we should save the introductions for when we’re safe!”\n\n“Uh, yeah!” Daxton nodded.\n\nCasey stared slack-jawed straight ahead, his decidedly pale features appearing more pale than normal. Samantha, too, looked rather frazzled for a blobby girl. Laila just cackled. “Yeeeeehaw!” The giraffe hollered, “Now that’s what I call sweepin’ ‘em off their feet! Woo!”\n\n“Y-Y-Y-Yes,” Sam’s teeth chattered, “W-Well um, we should h-head to Clarkston now. Our friends were headed that way. W-We heard that your group was headed there.”\n\n“Well that’s a dandy coincidence, I reckon that’s where Quincey and Kenny got washed up,” Laila said, “Well, ya’ll best strap in then, we’re headin’ to Clarkston!”\n\nCasey and Sam frantically pulled their seatbelts on. They couldn’t get them on fast enough for their liking.\n\nThe truck suddenly dropped like a ton of bricks, Laila nose-diving the vehicle once again and almost sending Jacent soaring into the sky.\n\n“WHOOOOAA!”\n\n-\n--\n-\n\nKenny awoke to the sound of something dragging through the dirt. He snapped his head up quickly to look around the darkened storehouse, shaking the sleep out of his head. “Fuck,” He grunted, blinking a few times as he noticed what little light there was catching off a collection of silver figures. “Oh no…” He said, “Oh no, no…”\n\nKenny rose with his back against the wall, counting exactly four inked Quinceys shoving crates around the storehouse, clearing a path to the back. Working together, these Quincey clones could easily shove the weight of the crates, every one filled with stocked supplies and non-perishables to be used for the colder seasons. They worked in loose cooperation, only doubling up to move some of the heavier items when the need called for it. Otherwise they picked up, hauled, dragged, or shoved whatever they could on their own. Without a direct supervisor, they still seemed to know where they needed to be for what task. Kenny wasn’t sure how long he was out for, but they were just pulling the last crate out from the back wall and pushing it aside to expose it.\n\nKenny stepped quietly behind the silver, inky pigs to see that the back wall had been loosely boarded. Faint lights from the Locksmouth dome in the distance were peeking through the cracks, teasing their imminent freedom. Kenny watched and waited only a moment longer as they Quinceys silently studied the boards, pushing against them and listening to them creak and show some give. It was obvious that they intended to leave – which wasn’t a terrible idea, really, but Kenny knew Duplex’s intentions didn’t align quite perfectly with its host’s. Kenny stepped in.\n\n“Wait!” he said, “Don’t even think about it!”\n\n“We are leaving,” One Quincey spoke, her voice slightly monotonous and dually rendered, “Stay here if you must.”\n\n“You know what? Leaving is great, but we can’t just leave Daxton and Laila out here with those guys,” Kenny stepped closer, stopping only when all four of the silver pigs turned on him, their shine dancing with strange, prismatic colours when the light caught them, “Quincey helped you, didn’t she? We’re almost there, we can go back for them and still make it just fine.”\n\n“No!” The pigs angrily responded in unison, making Kenny flinch. Every inked Quincey was stronger than the original, Kenny knew that for sure. Quincey had some good arms on her, sure, but when she wasn’t inked she had no hope of beating up him, Daxton and Laila all at once. Duplex had done that with ease back at Harbington, so Kenny was wary about angering the Inkling.\n\n“We… do not have much time,” One of the pigs said, “We have to find Echelon soon.”\n\nKenny felt the need to plead their case, but he stopped when someone banged on the chained up storehouse doors. “What’s going on in there?!” A villager barked, “What are you two doing?!”\n\nDuplex quietly turned back with its replicas to the boarded patch. Kenny turned to the door and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Let us out!” He shouted, “You have to let us out right now! There’s… there’s five of us in here now!”\n\n“Five of… what?” The villager muttered in confusion, “What are you up to in there?!”\n\n“Please!” Kenny yelled, “You really need to open that door!”\n\nDuplex made four mighty cries as the clones all rushed the back of the storehouse, slamming into the wooden boards and making them crack as the pile of silver pigs tumbled into it with their collective weight. They practically bounced back like rubber balls, flopping collectively onto the ground on their rears. Undeterred, they rose again to get a running start, readying themselves by raking their feet in the dirt, huffing like wild boars. Again they rushed and again they collided with the wall in a mass of silver bodies, splintering the wood further. Again they tumbled to the ground only to get up and try again.\n\nThe commotion had certainly gotten the attention of the Clarkston villagers, who began to do… something outside. Kenny couldn’t imagine what but he could hear a lot of voices outside through the walls. There was no hope that they would be able to unchain that door before Duplex and its three duplicates would charge through the boards in the back, and so Kenny was forced to watch. Two more charges and finally the wood gave way with a loud crack and the pigs all crumpled through the remaining opening, falling on top of one another in a heap. Kenny hurried to follow them out the back door, barely able to stick his head out. The four inked Quinceys were just outside, still in a pile, faced down by Joel, the mayor of Clarkston, and a number of other villagers.\n\nThey stared at Duplex, eyes wide and breath taken. The way Duplex’s blue eyes reflected the light, the unnatural shine over its body, the appearance of its drawn-on mouth… it looked like a monster. With the four duplicates so tightly pressed together it was difficult to make out where one body ended and the other began, their creases melting into one another to make it appear vaguely like a pile of silver meat, limbs, and little faces. Joel had come prepared; in his hand he held the sword Kenny had brought with him into the settlement, but he seemed too stunned to use it.\n\nFor ages the silence dragged on, before Joel barely forced a raspy, fearful voice. “Just… just what are you, demon?” He asked.\n\nThe four faces of Duplex stared the man down with an icy indifference. As if computing an appropriate response, it took a few deliberating seconds before all four spoke in unison. “We are Legion, for we are many,” Duplex said.\n\nJoel seemed to recoil. “Good God,” He gasped.\n\n“Send us among the pigs!” Duplex chorused, “Let us to enter into them!”\n\nDuplex’s duplicates flopped off the pig-pile one after another. The villagers gasped and stepped warily back away, all except for Joel who stood frozen as each Quincey got to their feet. They stepped forward, causing a startled gasp to sound throughout the collected crowd and making them all almost trip over themselves to get away. They trembled in fear and uncertainty, holding their families and loved ones as they stared at Duplex with frightened eyes.\n\n“You cannot stop us,” Duplex shouted in time with its copies, “Let us pass into Locksmouth!”\n\nOne step closer to the villagers and Joel drew the sharpened blade from its scabbard and pointed it threateningly at the inked girls. “Don’t you take one more step or I’ll… I’ll cut you!” He shouted, “Not one more step!”\n\nDuplex took one collective step, every duplicate moving like a marching line daringly toward Joel. The man tensed, forcing his feet to remain planted. He stiffened his arm and brandished the weapon in his hand threateningly at the collection of inked pigs only a few feet away.\n\nFor some time, Duplex stared at the man, its blank eyes seemingly peering straight through him into something else. No one knew what the inkling would do, the villagers and Kenny alike holding their breath for something to happen. It was clear in Joel’s eyes that he was afraid. That was the sort of look that Duplex had become familiar with. Its first host had feared it no differently, and the man had become so irrational in his struggle that he crashed that lunch truck into Quincey’s school. It was fortunate that things worked out that way in the end, but it was difficult to ignore just how confusing and erratic humans could be. They had become so fearful that their panic vaulted beyond necessity. It angered Duplex, that the humans would fear it so despite having no real reason to. The inkling wanted to do something, something… mean, something bad; something to give them a [i]reason[/i] to be scared. It wanted to take out some aggression on those around it.\n\nBut then it didn’t just look like Quincey. The girl was strange, looked at as different by many of her peers, and she wouldn’t have acted that way. Conflict filled Duplex’s mind, thoughts it wouldn’t have considered trickled in for a brief moment. It felt somewhat euphoric. For the first time in as long as it could remember, it wasn’t simply alone. It had bonded with its host, for better or for worse. For every reason it could think to lash out at these villagers, Quincey could think of a reason not to. The human race was capable; that much was certain, as it still stood in Osoth’s passing. It was largely the Empress herself to be blamed for these things. Humanity had acted no differently than any race conquered before it. This was simply the first time any Inkling got to see it after the fact.\n\nDuplex took a deep breath – just one of the four of it. At the apex of this breath, something caught. That blissful feeling of connection shattered, crumbling away. It simply broke apart and fell away. Three of the Duplex clones collapsed, uniformly becoming their gooey construct and splashing on the ground like water dumped from buckets. Duplex cried out in alarm, something rocking its body and causing it to jerk. It reached out, much to the alarm of all the spectators, fingertips mere millimeters away from Joel’s blade as its inky skin started to fall away. In thick, heavy globs it slopped off, exposing the paled skin of the pig girl beneath it. The Inkling couldn’t stay standing. It fell to the ground as dead weight, parts of its form splattering off Quincey’s body in patches.\n\n“Quincey?!” Kenny cried as he hurried out of the storehouse and to Quincey’s side. The girl was not well. She breathed hoarsely, dryly, and her skin was cold and lacking in colour. Her body trembled and she tried desperately to curl into a little ball as Duplex’s silvery skin receded into her body in swift desperation. The Inkling had pushed too hard, bringing both itself and its host to a breaking point. Prana had been given and exhausted. There was almost none left.\n\n“Quincey!” Kenny shook the girl, who seemed unconscious and appeared strangely gaunt for being so rotund.\n\nThe people of Clarkston were speechless for a time. Joel stared in horror at the scene unfolding at the end of the blade he brandished. The steel seemed to cut the way, pointed toward a goal, creating a road for his mind to follow. At the end of that was a pig and a lemming, children, tortured by an unnatural monstrosity.\n\nIt had to stop there.\n\n“Move,” Joel croaked.\n\nKenny looked up quickly at the man as he approached, and he snatched Quincey up in his arms, hauling her body up against him protectively.\n\n“Get out of the way,” The mayor uttered, “Get away from that thing.”\n\nKenny grit his teeth. “Stay away from her,” He growled, “Get away from her!”\n\nJoel stopped just before Kenny, and the boy looked way up at him from his place on the ground. “Whatever you think that is, it’s not your friend,” Joel said, his grip tightening on the sword, “You’ve got to let me put it out. I’ll do it so that everyone’s safe.”\n\nKenny’s ears pricked up. “No,” He exclaimed, trying to hold Quincey closer to him, “No!”\n\nTears welled up in the boys eyes. He tried to blink them away, but they returned. His breathing picked up to an angry panting, sucking in air through his grit teeth. He was all at once afraid and angered beyond the capacity for rational thought.\n\n“You try it and I’ll fucking kill you!” The boy screamed at Joel, “I won’t let you take her from me!”\n\nJoel made one, tiny motion. It was unclear whether that movement was toward or away from his intended goal, as he wasn’t given more than a severed second before Kenny was up off the ground and tackling the man. They fell onto the ground, Joel on his back and the smaller, red-faced, tear-soaked rodent boy straddling his body. The mayor’s face was assaulted by little fists, ones that came crashing down like thunder in animalistic rage. Kenny screamed, bashing the man’s face with his knuckles over and over again. The other villagers made a move to help their mayor, but when Joel raised his sword they froze, unsure of what might happen if he brought it down again.\n\nHe didn’t get the chance to. Kenny’s other hand grabbed the sharpened metal, the handcuffs hanging off his wrist clashing with the handle of the weapon. The blade cut into the skin of his palm, blood quickly trickling down the polished surface to the hilt. His other fist continued to bear down across the man’s face time and again, kneading and softening the skin beneath his fur, damaging tissue, leaving marks and bloodying his nose. At some point, Joel stopped moving. Kenny didn’t care. Blow after blow after blow came down on that man like the fury of the heavens.\n\n“Fuck you fuck you fuck you!!!” Kenny screamed at the top of his lungs.\n\nThe people of Clarkston weren’t fighters. They were frightened, in fact, by the display they were witnessing. The most they could do was plead with Kenny to make him stop, as no one dared join the morbid spectacle in fear of being harmed themselves.\n\nKenny drew back his bloody knuckles for another punch, but felt the neck of his loose shirt suddenly get pulled around his throat. He coughed as he was hoisted, his legs turning to jelly as all his rage and anger rushed out of him. He was lifted and swung around by a strong hand, coming face to face with a white-furred feline girl with powder blue corkscrew pigtails. He blinked dumbly at her angry expression, and before he could say or do anything he had the air forced out of his lungs by one decisive strike to his stomach. He was then dropped on the ground. His legs failed to support him and he found himself lying face-down in the dirt.\n\nCarrie Oakenfield turned to the crowd of bewildered spectators, her curly, powder-blue locks bouncing along with her pleated skirt. “Next person to lift a finger is picking their teeth up off the ground!” She shouted. The small crowd was all too compliant and kept their distance.\n\nFrom around the corner of the storehouse stepped another Inkling creature, this one looking to be dark, but somehow shining a glossy pink. Somewhere between latex, a neon sign, and a chalk drawing, the Inkling canine stepped with purpose toward Quincey’s unconscious body. She was followed by a young ferret boy with curly red hair and glasses. It was an odd group – Carrie was dressed somewhat traditionally, in long socks, a skirt, and an actual shirt, while the ferret had on the sleek, clingy clothes of a Dome citizen. Then of course there was the Inkling, who appeared to be somehow clothed, or at least had lines drawn onto its form to resemble a one-piece leotard with a skull depicted on her chest.\n\n“Is she alright?” The boy asked as the Inkling knelt by Quincey.\n\n“Prana exhaustion, I’d say,” The Inkling said. She settled on her knees and rolled Quincey onto her back. The odd creature leaned over the girl and placed her hands on either side of the pig’s head. “It’s going to be all right,” The Inkling spoke in its strange, dual tones. It then closed its eyes and began to concentrate.\n\nWhatever the Inkling did, it calmed Quincey’s trembling body. It didn’t appear as if anything had even happened, but the Inkling sat back after a few moments and opened its eyes again with a look of accomplishment. “She matches the description the detective gave us. This is our girl,” It spoke again.\n\nKenny had been nursing his wounds, barely hearing or seeing what was happening with his packmate and friend. All he knew was that someone was trying to get their hands on her again, and that was all he needed to know. He threw himself at the dropped sword at Joel’s side and snatched it up in both his hands, bloodying the handle more as he forced himself to sit up. He pointed the blade outward at Carrie, his gaze frantically sizing up each of the new arrivals to the scene. “Who are you people?!” He coughed, “Get away from her!”\n\nCarrie rested her hands on her hips and shifted her weight from one of her legs to the other. The look she gave Kenny was clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, buddy? I’m gonna have to ask you not to point that thing at people. You could hurt yourself… or get hurt,” She said pointedly, “[i]Especially[/i] if you tear up my blouse.”\n\nKenny pushed himself to his feet, but Carrie simply reached out and pushed on his forehead with a finger. He toppled back down onto the ground, dropping his weapon.\n\n“We heard your friend was looking for Echelon,” Carrie said, turning to look at the Inkling who was tending to Quincey. “Well, we got tired of waiting,” She finished.\n\nKenny pushed himself to sit up again, groaning in pain. The way his hand felt when he moved it, like his skin was folding on itself… he just then came to realize that his hand was deeply cut open. He quickly lifted it onto his lap and did his best to wrap his shirt around it. “You… You guys are...?” He couldn’t find the words he was looking for.\n\n“Yep, Echelon’s crew!” Carrie announced, giving a big grin and a thumbs up. She then turned to the crowd, who had at that point dragged Joel’s unconscious body away. “And I’m sure you guys won’t mind,” She declared, “But we’re taking the girl with us! If any of you monkeys have a problem with that? Well…”\n\nBefore she could finish, the ferret boy pushed in beside her and raised his hands to cover her mouth. “Your concerns will be noted and taken into consideration!” He said, “Thanks!”\n\nCarrie shoved the smaller boy away from her and wiped her mouth with her arm. Standing up, the Inkling looked Carrie’s way and beckoned her. “We should leave,” It said, “Carrie, can you…?”\n\n“Lift her?” Carrie finished the thought. She approached and studied Quincey, canting her head aside somewhat with a smile of surrender. “She’s… bigger than I was expecting, but yeah I guess I could,” She said, “Help me load her up.”\n\nWhile they did that, the ferret boy stepped in and held out his hand to help Kenny up. Kenny just blinked at the other boy, as he kept his one hand wrapped tightly in his shirt and used his only other free hand to keep the fabric pulled tight. Instead of accepting the help, Kenny struggled to stand up without the use of his arms.\n\n“You’re hurt,” The ferret pointed out, frowning, “Is it bad?”\n\n“I’m… I’m okay,” Kenny spoke in a daze. His subsiding rage brought him back to a confusing reality that he needed to catch up to. Unwrapping his hand, he looked at the deep cut along his palm and sliced somewhat into the lower ends of his fingers on an angle. Blood flowed generously, dripping off of Kenny’s wrist. It hurt a little, but not so much to be excessively distracting. His arm just felt cold, and not just because his blood cooled rapidly in the autumn night air. The other boy was disgusted by the sight and quickly turned away.\n\nThe Inkling approached Kenny next. “Hello,” It said, flashing him as comforting a smile as she could, “I’m Echelon, and you are…?”\n\n“K… Kenny,” Kenny stepped back from Echelon, holding his injured hand.\n\nEchelon’s pink, drawn-on eyes fixated on the injury. “Kenny, can I help you with that?” She asked, “It’s within my capabilities to heal you. Would you be okay if I did?”\n\n“Uh…” Kenny was apprehensive. Noticing this, Echelon calmly receded into its host’s body. The dark, pink-glossed ‘skin’ of the Inkling faded away into black fur, brunette hair, and eventually exposed the ruby red eyes and wolfish form of Natalie Grayswift. Kenny warily looked her up and down as she stood before him in the same get-up that Echelon had been wearing, except the colours were a little different. The skull printed on the chest of the one-piece was still pink, but the fabric that clung to her bottom-heavy frame was white instead of black.\n\n“And I’m Natalie, Echelon’s host,” The wolf girl said.\n\n“… You were on the news, yeah,” Kenny looked the girl in the eye.\n\n“Would you let me take a look at that cut now so we can get out of here?” Natalie asked.\n\nCarrie had finally stood with a grunt with Quincey on her back. She hefted the unconscious girl up, leaning forward to bear most of her weight down on her, with Quincey’s arms hanging over her shoulders. “Ngh! There,” Carrie breathed, “Wow, I’m sorry but this girl is heavy, even for me! How far was it to Sam’s car again, Erwin?”\n\n“It’s not that far,” The ferret boy, Erwin, said, “We left it just under the delivery route.”\n\nKenny looked up into the sky, just barely able to see a number of red lights spread out and dotting the sky in an arch that stretched a great distance; from Locksmouth to Harbington, in fact. Long-distance transit worked that route, delivering goods, supplies, and travelers between the Domes. While there weren’t any hard and heavy rules to stay on the route, it was the shortest way from point A to point B and usually only took an hour of travel at high speeds. The route really wasn’t that far, but it seemed further away from down on the ground.\n\n“Well?” Natalie caught Kenny’s attention again and waited expectedly for an answer.\n\n“What’re you going to do?” Kenny asked.\n\nNatalie held out her hand and said, “Just give me your hand, I promise it won’t be anything bad.”\n\nKenny reluctantly held out his hand. Even the gathered villagers watched from their safe distance in keen interest as Natalie gently took hold of Kenny’s hand and turned his palm downward. She lifted his hand up and placed her lips on the back of his wrist in a gentle kiss. Kenny’s eyes bulged wide in surprise and he instinctively tried to withdraw his hand as a flush of embarrassment spread across his face. Natalie held tight, keeping him there just a few moments longer before he was able to tear his hand away.\n\n“W-What the heck are you doing?!” Kenny squeaked.\n\n“It should be good now,” Natalie smiled apologetically, “Look.”\n\nKenny turned his palm up to see that while his hand was still covered in fresh blood, the wound itself wasn’t seeping crimson into his fur anymore. It had healed over just enough to stanch the wound, but not enough for it to disappear entirely. His expression changed from embarrassment to wonder, but did still keep an echo of bashfulness.\n\n“I guess if you’ve been hanging around your friend, you probably know that Inklings have special powers,” Natalie explained, “My healing isn’t as good as my friend Sam’s, but it’ll do. So, are you ready to get out of here?”\n\nKenny stared at the girl, still uncertain even in light of her actions. His gaze fell to his palm again, and he flexed his fingers, rolling them into a fist and out again. He really did feel better.\n\n“You’re the good guys, right?” Kenny asked.\n\nNatalie kind of laughed, but smiled. “Yeah,” She said, “We’re the good guys.”\n\n“Can we hurry this up?” Carrie asked, annoyed, “I may be strong but seriously, this girl… her butt is almost as big as yours, sweet-cheeks. She’s not light!”\n\n“You better not be squeezing her,” Natalie tossed a look to her girlfriend over her shoulder.\n\nThe cat smirked and hefted Quincey’s unconscious body again, and then turned toward the woods. “Let’s gooooo alreeeeadyyy!” She shouted in vague sing-song.\n\n“Come on,” Natalie said to Kenny, “We’ll answer any questions you’ve got, but we should really get out of here.” For a moment she turned her attention to the frightened Naturalists who huddled around their leader. Children stared at her in fright and adults leered in distaste. She frowned for a moment, turning away before any of them had a chance to address her. She started her pink-sneakered march toward the forest, following Carrie the strong cat and shadowed by the lanky Erwin. Kenny was struck for a moment as he watched them leave so confidently. He turned, gathered up the dropped sword and scabbard that had been taken from him, and then scrambled to catch up.\n\nEven his bruises didn’t feel that bad any more, he noticed. It made the walk behind the group easier and allowed him the silence for thought without the distraction of pain. He looked back at Clarkston’s old buildings and penned animals only once as they departed, his mind racing to try and figure out what would have happened if Carrie hadn’t come in and rightly knocked him down. Had she just stopped him from doing something he would have regret? He let his attention fall to his steps, watching his feet mostly in the scant light as he stepped through the thick brush. When he did lift his head, he looked to Quincey. Before she had seemed so distressed, but by that time she was comfortably asleep on Carrie’s back.\n\nIt was hard to say for sure just who he was dealing with, but if they helped Quincey that would be enough for him for the time being.\n\n-\n--\n-\n\nIt was a long walk to the delivery route. It wasn’t exactly placed with ground-travel in mind – in fact, very few things were. Still, the stretch of forest from Locksmouth to Clarkston had the benefit of being peeled away in places, baring strips of clearing that weaved toward the heavier, thicker woodland area. When they were approximately right underneath the marked route, they had come into a clearing where a sleek, jet-black Croix Profil PeTra had been parked. What they hadn’t expected to see was a more rugged-looking truck, its make and model looking almost ancient with its bulky standard, settled nearby. What they expected even less was the familiar faces of their friends manning it.\n\n“Hey!” Carrie waved her hand as she appeared in the clearing.\n\n“Oh thank heavens you’re here!” Sam hurried toward her packmates as they emerged from the forest. Despite wearing a long, self-heated coat and a scarf, the blonde, coifed, white-furred bat wrapped her arms around herself for dramatic effect. “We have had the most [i]dreadful[/i] experience! Did you find her?”\n\n“Right here,” Carrie turned her head toward the pudgy face of Quincey resting on her shoulder, “Her Inkling pushed too hard, they almost burned out.”\n\nDaxton’s feet couldn’t carry him fast enough as he leapt from the back of the truck and ran with heavy footfalls through the dirt. He slid to a stop as he reached Carrie, but his attention as entirely on Quincey. “Is she okay?!” He asked excitedly, “What happened? Is she gonna be alright?”\n\n“She’ll be fine,” Natalie stepped up next to Carrie, “Are you part of her pack?”\n\n“I’m her [i]boyfriend[/i],” Daxton said, his face flushing as he did. His hands were reached out but he felt hesitant to place them on Quincey. He wanted so desperately to check up on her, but felt too worked up to do so. “Quincey?” He spoke to the unconscious pig.\n\nLaila and the others had piled out of the truck to gather around their friends. “She looks plum tuckered,” The giraffe frowned.\n\n“Those maniacs at Clarkston locked us up,” Kenny said.\n\n“Did they?” Spoke Jacent as he wrapped one arm around Sam, who had huddled against him for warmth she didn’t need, “Because of the Inkling?”\n\n“Yeah because of the Inkling,” Kenny explained exasperatedly, “And then Duplex, the idiot, decides to bust out through the back wall and then falls apart right in front of a guy threatening it.”\n\n“[i]That’s[/i] what happened?” Erwin chimed in, “I… guess it shouldn’t be too surprising that Naturalists would do something like that. They don’t like [i]regular[/i] dome citizens, let alone ones bonded with Inklings. I’m more surprised they knew about it, honestly.”\n\n“And one of you is Echelon, right?” Daxton asked.\n\nNatalie raised her hand and said, “That would be me.”\n\nDaxton took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head. “I hope finding you is worth all this trouble…” He said.\n\n“We’ve been through a lot,” Laila added, “But we’re almost home free. I reckon it’ll be worth it one way or another.”\n\n“Well, we’ll see once we get your friend… Quincey was it?” Natalie blinked at the passed out pig, “When we get her to Locksmouth. That Inkling’s going to have some explaining to do.”",
  "writing_bbcode_parsed": "<span style='word-wrap: break-word;'>\tThe cold autumn air that swept through the camp in the woods made the grass under Laila feel dry and uncomfortable. Everything about that trip had been uncomfortable. She crashed her truck, nearly caught hypothermia, and didn&rsquo;t care for sleeping on the grass as much as she had been doing. Those problems were that of regular folk, however. Her trip between Harbington and Locksmouth was far from regular. Most people didn&rsquo;t worry about being assaulted and battered by terrorists armed with extinct weaponry and angry dispositions. Even fewer had to worry about being thrown into a makeshift prison on their hikes, like the one she found herself in.<br /><br />\tEverything up to that point had just been so stressful! The thugs that captured her, Daxton, and Casey barely fed them, and they were anything but nice or gentle. It was all in an attempt to strong-arm them into giving away where their friend, Quincey Abram, was holed up so they could capture her and the Inkling she hosted. The longer they refused to fess up, the more impatient their captors became. Daxton, for all the courage and bravado he&rsquo;d displayed in the face of the camp&rsquo;s leader &ndash; a hulk of a man who frightened poor Laila to the core &ndash; had been beaten and battered for his blatant disrespect. He&rsquo;d spent most of his time in that cell made up of a strong-force containment field laying on his back in the grass. Casey, an older man and a glorified guide, had remained as quiet and out of the way he could, just as Laila had.<br /><br />\tDaylight disappeared over the trees in the thick forest, washing the golden oranges and browns of autumn in a blue moonlit tint. The prisoners were restless, and sleep wasn&rsquo;t going to come to them that night. Laila spent her time sitting cross-legged in the grass and keeping to herself. She was quiet, trying desperately to sort out all the feelings of stress and anxiety that events had brought her to. No calming exercises were going to help her vent her frustrations, and she&rsquo;d resorted to more physical means. She rolled up the sleeves of her warm jacket and stroked her arms with her fingertips, mixing the sensation with the cold night air to give her goosebumps. Tender petting became gropes and squeezes after some time, the giraffe girl beginning to grab handfuls of her softer parts and try to wring them out like stress balls. She spent nearly half an hour kneading her own chest alone.<br /><br />She spread one hand over her legs, pawing at the stretchy material of her bottoms and squeezing it tight around her thighs. Her breaths came labored with frustration aching to get out, discomfort that needed to be washed away, and the building stress grew and swelled inside her until it spilled over into bold desire. The teenage girl pushed her hand between her thighs, which flexed in protest and trapped her appendage there. Undaunted, she pushed one finger into the pool of her frustrations, applying a firm pressure to that hotbed of emotions that had misdirected themselves to nestle between her legs. The girl sucked in a soft breath when her anger and worry were phased out by a sensation of pleasure that trickled up from her loins, travelling the super information highway of her nerves straight into the center of her brain. For a moment, all her anxiety disappeared.<br /><br />&ldquo;W-What are you doing?&rdquo;<br /><br />Laila opened her eyes and looked to her left. Casey sat there watching her in wide-eyed fascination. The heat to his blush was similar to the girl&rsquo;s own, telling of physical interest and terrible shame. Laila removed her hand from her chest and allowed it to join her other. With her hands rested on her thighs, she allowed her fingers to curl between them to her core. She ceased her active stroking and petting, but maintained a pressure against her that she felt in her understickers.<br /><br />&ldquo;Sorry, I&rsquo;m just losin&rsquo; my mind,&rdquo; The girl breathed, &ldquo;I just feel&hellip; I ain&rsquo;t right. I&rsquo;m wound up tighter n&rsquo; a spring, n&rsquo; I&rsquo;m ready to <em>bounce</em>, ya know what I&rsquo;m sayin&rsquo;?&rdquo;<br /><br />Casey stared at her in shocked confusion.<br /><br />&ldquo;Sorry, just ignore her,&rdquo; Daxton spoke out from a few feet away, laying on his back. Had he any eyes, he would have been staring at the stars above, but instead he could only see black. &ldquo;Laila gets that way when she&rsquo;s stressed out,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;She doesn&rsquo;t mean anything by it.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; Casey rubbed his arm. The bruises there had stopped aching when the sun had finally gone down. He laughed, &ldquo;Well I suppose I can&rsquo;t blame you.&rdquo;<br /><br />Laila visibly hunched as she sighed. She placed her hands on the ground at her side and pushed herself to sit on her rear, legs outstretched. &ldquo;I swear when we get outta here n&rsquo; get to Locksmouth, reckon I&rsquo;m gonna grab the first cute thing I can find and we&rsquo;re gonna <strong><em>knock boots</em></strong> somethin&rsquo; fierce. Whew&hellip; Daxton, when&rsquo;re we gonna get outta here?&rdquo;<br /><br />Casey turned his attention thankfully to the teenage boy sprawled out on the ground. &ldquo;Yes, please tell me you don&rsquo;t have to get beat up any more times before you have your plan,&rdquo; He said.<br /><br />Daxton grinned in spite of the thrashings he&rsquo;d received at the hands of Garrison, the camp&rsquo;s apparent leading man. No matter how big the old grizzly bear was, Daxton never stayed down. His body ached all over, but with a sheer application of mind power the throbbing sensation from his marks and bruises would be lessened. &ldquo;Last time I was out there, I think I ran into our ticket,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;I heard it out there. Whatever it is, it&rsquo;s big; and it&rsquo;s stuck behind a force field just like we are.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;What&rsquo;re you gonna do?&rdquo; Laila asked.<br /><br />&ldquo;I just need to get into another one-on-one with our friend,&rdquo; The boy smirked.<br /><br />Casey&rsquo;s eyes bugged, &ldquo;That&rsquo;s insane, you&rsquo;ve already been soundly beaten three times. That man is just too&hellip; too beastly to be put down.&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton turned his head, his bangs falling before his sunken, close-lidded, eyesoxkets. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not looking to win,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;Can you two help me make some noise?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Are you sure, Dax?&rdquo; Laila asked.<br /><br />&ldquo;Yeah, I&rsquo;m good,&rdquo; Daxton lifted himself off the ground, bracing himself with his sore arms to roll onto his side. He gave Laila a confident thumbs-up.<br /><br />Laila sighed, but pushed herself onto her hands and knees to crawl toward the smaller boy. &ldquo;Alright, but without my PET this is gonna get a little&hellip; physical,&rdquo; She said.<br /><br />Daxton flicked his wrist. &ldquo;Pff, there&rsquo;s nothing you can dish out that I can&rsquo;t take,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;What are you going to do?&rdquo;<br /><br />-<br />--<br />-<br /><br />&ldquo;AUGH!&rdquo;<br /><br />Kris Procsman turned his head at the sound of a sudden shout coming from the general direction of the prisoner cell. The young man had just gotten his gear stripped down to comfortable shorts and was ready to throw himself into his comfy cot when the sound stopped him. Sheer curiosity saw him rising to his feet to walk past his equally confused tent-mates and poke his head out the flap to see what all the commotion was about.<br /><br />&ldquo;LAILA! ACK!&rdquo;<br /><br />There it was again. Other tents all around the camp started to light up as activity picked up. The shouting and hollering continued with more soldiers stumbling out of their tents to see what the matter was. Some of them darted across the camp towards the prisoners and others struggled to shake their drowsy, sleepy state before being able to do anything. Kris stepped out of his tent in just his shorts, shivering in the cold night air and wrapping his arms around himself as he ran in a high-knee prance toward the prisoners as well. His feet stepped on errant twigs and rocks the entire way, making him hop about just to reach the other end of the camp.<br /><br />&ldquo;Giddy up you little daddy&rsquo;s boy! I&rsquo;m hankerin&rsquo; for a ruttin&rsquo; and ya&rsquo;ll&rsquo;re gonna put up!&rdquo; The giraffe girl shouted. Kris hurried and pushed past the crowd to the cell to see the girl straddling the blind dog kid. She was pinning him down roughly and grinding her hips like a flour mill down against his pelvis while attempting to pull his undershirt up. She&rsquo;d already pulled open the kid&rsquo;s overcoat.<br /><br />\tDaxton coughed, &ldquo;Oh my god, Laila&hellip;! S-Stop, I&rsquo;ve got bruises there!&rdquo; He tried to turn and twist his body, and his struggling made him wheeze and grunt. He wrestled with Laila as best he could, and when he managed to grab one of her hands and pry it off of his clothing, he pushed to throw her over. He rolled with her and pinned her down by her shoulders in an effort to keep her off.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Knock it off!&rdquo; Daxton barked. Laila threw her legs around his waist and locked them to keep him tightly held.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;I like it when ya&rsquo;ll get rough!&rdquo; Laila smirked, reaching down over Daxton&rsquo;s body and grabbing him harshly between the legs. The boy yelped in sudden surprise and tried to back off, only allowing Laila to be able to push him forwards. She shoved and rolled with him to swing him down onto his back, and the strength of his impact with the ground made him gasp for air. It also made the crowd of gunmen (and women) cringe.<br /><br />Casey watched the pair of rowdy teens in slack-jawed amazement. The crowd seemed to get swept up in the sudden excitement, and they started to cheer and holler, trying to egg the kids on and keep them wrestling for their entertainment. The formerly silent night had been broken by the sounds of a small stadium full of people &ndash; the sort of noise reserved for small sporting events, the kind that made conversation difficult and the ability to hear one&rsquo;s own thoughts just impossible enough. Fueled by this energy, Laila continued to wrestle with Daxton, going so far as to start biting playfully against his throat. Daxton, not having really planned any of it, just tried to keep her at bay.<br /><br />&ldquo;What the hell is going on out here?!&rdquo; Garrison&rsquo;s booming voice rose over the crowd like thunder. The crowd went silent and heads turned as the hulk of a man stomped through. The people parted like the Red Sea to let him pass, moving him to the front of the commotion to stand outside the strong-force containment field. He was only half dressed, and wasn&rsquo;t wearing as much padding as he often did in his full combat fatigues. The uniform pants still hung loose around his legs, tucked into his boots, but only a sleeveless tank top covered his bulky upper body. His rife was slung over his shoulders by its leather strap, and he already had one passkey disc attached to his shirt to allow him through the containment field. His eyes fell right to Daxton and Laila, and when Laila noticed the man she flipped off Daxton and onto her back.<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh, you&rsquo;re here,&rdquo; Daxton grunted, pushing himself up onto his feet. Garrison&rsquo;s expression soured as he realized the whole stunt was simply to draw him out.<br /><br />&ldquo;&hellip; Alright, you went through all that trouble just to see me?&rdquo; He asked, &ldquo;What do you want, punk?&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton pressed his arms against the force field and leaned on his elbows. He set his head against it and hunched, but rose one finger upright in a gesture. &ldquo;One more go, me and you,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;If you win, I&rsquo;ll tell you where Quincey is.&rdquo;<br /><br />Garrison crossed his arms. &ldquo;You know what?&rdquo; He answered, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m getting the impression that you just like being a little asshole and you aren&rsquo;t actually going to tell me jack. Why should I believe you&rsquo;ll tell me anything?&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton waited &ndash; a little dramatic pause &ndash; before he leaned in really close to the barrier and lowered his voice a little. &ldquo;Because you&rsquo;re not going to win,&rdquo; He grinned.<br /><br />Daxton heard the bear&rsquo;s teeth grind. &ldquo;Oh yeah?&rdquo; The man asked gruffly.<br /><br />Daxton nodded. &ldquo;The only stipulation I ask is that you give me my hat,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;You&rsquo;re a real tough guy fighting a blind kid. I think things would be different if I could see you&hellip; even if I can <strong>hear</strong> you coming from a mile away.&rdquo;<br /><br />Silence filled the space when Garrison refused to answer the boy&rsquo;s demands immediately. The large bear took to consideration and the soldiers closest to him stared at him in curious wonder. Kris Procsman was the first to approach, leaning a little to try and look up at Garrison&rsquo;s face when the man lowered his chin to think. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re&hellip; not actually going to do that, are you?&rdquo; Kris asked.<br /><br />A familiar Persian feline approached from off to the side, hardly dressed in more than underwear and a tank top. &ldquo;You have no reason to meet this boy&rsquo;s demands,&rdquo; She added to her comrade&rsquo;s concerns.<br /><br />&ldquo;Tch,&rdquo; Garrison spat, &ldquo;Why? What&rsquo;s he going to do, beat me? I can crush him.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t be serious,&rdquo; Kris said, blinking his red eyes, &ldquo;He&rsquo;s just a kid, man!&rdquo;<br /><br />Garrison shoved the gecko aside and regarded Daxton again. &ldquo;Alright, boy,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;You get your STOP, and we fight. If I win, and you don&rsquo;t tell me what you promised to, then I will break your legs and I might forget to set them right again to heal.&rdquo;<br /><br />The only nerve Daxton showed was him gritting his teeth.<br /><br />&ldquo;And if you think I&rsquo;m lying, I dare you to try it,&rdquo; Garrison said, &ldquo;If you&rsquo;re going to be a big man now, then you either put up or shut up. I&rsquo;m not here to play your kid&rsquo;s games anymore. You step out of that cell, and you&rsquo;re going to be treated like an adult.&rdquo;<br /><br />Laila and Casey stared at Daxton, who took a deep breath and let it all out in a sigh. &ldquo;You&hellip; <em>caveman</em>,&rdquo; Daxton said, &ldquo;Fine.&rdquo;<br /><br />Garrison stared at Daxton, who now refused to even point his gaze in his direction. A toothy grin spread over the bear&rsquo;s features, and he reached inside the containment field. Able to pass through thanks to the disc reacting to the threadlinks in his clothing, Garrison simply planted a large hand over Daxton&rsquo;s chest. That hand felt enormous spread out over Daxton&rsquo;s chest, and there seemed to be an ever-present risk that the bear might curl his fingers and somehow grab and crack a couple of Daxton&rsquo;s ribs. Daxton just waited to be grabbed and thrown like usual, but instead the second passkey disc was attached to Daxton&rsquo;s shirt and Garrison withdrew his hand. Daxton was surprised for a moment, but caught on quickly enough. He stepped through the containment field of his own accord.<br /><br />Garrison laughed, &ldquo;Ha! Alright then.&rdquo; He turned to one of the soldiers and instructed them to go find Daxton&rsquo;s STOP. The soldier hurried off, and Garrison moved in to clap a hand down on Daxton&rsquo;s back. Pain from earlier bruising shot through the boy&rsquo;s shoulders and he hissed and tensed up. Garrison started to walk with him, leading him away from his friends.<br /><br />&ldquo;You know what, boy? I like you,&rdquo; The man said, &ldquo;You&rsquo;re not afraid to get into a scrap. People these days, they just don&rsquo;t know how to fight. You&rsquo;re Daxton, right?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Daxton Kemberge,&rdquo; Daxton grimaced.<br /><br />&ldquo;Garrison Clarke,&rdquo; Garrison answered, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why you give so much of a damn about these alien freaks, Daxton, but I respect your will to fight for it. It&rsquo;s just a shame that you&rsquo;re just a dumb kid. You have no idea what you&rsquo;re getting into.&rdquo;<br /><br />Garrison walked Daxton out to the central camp area, though Daxton couldn&rsquo;t exactly see it. Tents were set up rather spaciously in a semi-circle area, and between them stood several other prisoner areas. These areas were made up of strong-force containment, just like Daxton&rsquo;s own thrown-together prison cell; the difference was that the others were filled with alien creatures. Daxton could hear them as they made strange honks, gurgles, or otherwise low, rumbling growls the likes of which no creature on Earth ever made. The crowd of soldiers had followed him and Garrison to the main area and were spreading out to watch. They were getting ready to watch a grown man beat down a teenager. Daxton scowled.<br /><br />&ldquo;Take me, for example,&rdquo; Garrison said, stepping around to Daxton&rsquo;s front and planting his hands on the blind boy&rsquo;s shoulders to stop him from moving. &ldquo;I was made to fight,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;Out of almost everyone on this rock, I was born for battle. I was raised by my boss to be a body guard, genetically altered to ensure I&rsquo;d be the best damn fighting machine on two legs we&rsquo;ve seen since the old days, and now&hellip; now we&rsquo;ve got an alien invasion on our hands. Before, I was just an antique, but now? Now I&rsquo;ve got a purpose. Now I can fight.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;You&rsquo;re seriously a super soldier?&rdquo; Daxton asked, &ldquo;That kind of genetic manipulation was outlawed when&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;When guns were? Yeah,&rdquo; Garrison shook his head, &ldquo;But we knew about the aliens, Daxton. These things, they&rsquo;re bad business, and what they did in Locksmouth just proves it. They&rsquo;re evil dictators ready to come down from outer space and take our planet for whatever unnatural reason they want. We knew this even before the Locksmouth Incident. Whatever you think you know? It isn&rsquo;t jack, kid. I&rsquo;m going to show you and everyone like you that the way we should have been living from the start is by letting the strong people run things. If we did, we wouldn&rsquo;t even be in this mess. We wouldn&rsquo;t be standing here right now having a difference in opinion; because I can tell that you&rsquo;re a strong kid. You&rsquo;re just full of stupid ideas.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Stupid ideas?&rdquo; Daxton balled his fists, &ldquo;They just want <em>help</em>. Quincey&hellip; just wants <em>help</em>. She wouldn&rsquo;t even be in this situation if idiots like you didn&rsquo;t try to jam your fists down the throat of anything that scares you &ndash; anything different than you.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t even know what you&rsquo;re talking about,&rdquo; Garrison said, turning his head as one of the soldiers approached. Daxton heard them coming too and stopped his chastising of the big buffoon to listen more closely to whatever exchange they were about to have. It wasn&rsquo;t long before Daxton felt his hat being thrust against his chest for him to take, nearly being pushed off balance by Garrison&rsquo;s strong-arming him.<br /><br />&ldquo;Yeah, what would I know about being different,&rdquo; Daxton muttered under his breath as he pulled his hat over his head. It didn&rsquo;t take long for the threadlink material in the hat to react in proximity with the implants that littered his brain, transmitting images that he would be able to see. Daxton slowly looked up from Garrison&rsquo;s chest to the man&rsquo;s face, which sat well over a foot higher than Daxton did. The man was truly monstrous &ndash; gruff, old, but strong. No man Daxton had ever seen before had arms like Garrison did. They had raw power in them, and his hands were frightening tools that appeared designed to crush, break, and destroy. There was no gentleness in that man.<br /><br />Quincey always read stories about monsters, like dragons and griffons&hellip; but if a monster ever really existed among mankind, it was Garrison Clarke.<br /><br />Daxton looked around with his returned sight and got a handle on the creatures he suspected were placed around the camp. He was right, he knew he&rsquo;d heard them before, and he knew then where they were and what they looked like. There were spider-like ones, he recognized those from Harbington, when one attacked Kenny at the Burger Dictator. He recognized the others from news broadcasts reporting from Locksmouth during and after the initial alien invasion. There were big, red, lumbering ones, and a gelatinous green blob with a single eye, but there was one that Daxton didn&rsquo;t recognize.<br /><br />It was bigger than a person, bigger than Garrison even. Whatever the creature may have lacked in its already impressive height, it more than made up for in broad width. Its hulking bipedal form was covered in a chitin exoskeleton that covered it like armored plates, exposing only very small parts of the joints. Its head stuck out like a big cylinder from between its massive shoulders, three eyes dotting the rounded end of the cranium, while near its base it bore insect-like mandibles sticking out of holes Daxton could only assume were its mouths. The jagged-edged incisors flexed and moved while the creature&rsquo;s head rotated on its base, sometimes a full three-hundred and sixty degrees. It was as if someone combined an armored beetle with a gorilla and threw in some nonsensical physical elements. How those soldiers managed to get it behind a containment field couldn&rsquo;t have been anything short of a miracle.<br /><br />The more important question became how to get it out.<br /><br />&ldquo;Voice command E-649038,&rdquo; Daxton almost whispered. His vision darkened, and then lit up once again with a display of blue lights. Those blue lights were electromagnetic energy. Seeing everything else in only vague outlines of black, white, or gray; Daxton could see several radiating energy sources appearing throughout the camp. Most of them came from the weaponry the soldiers carried. Not only was every rifle in the camp lit up like a Christmas tree, but several other tools attached to the soldiers&rsquo; belts displayed some form of power &ndash; some of them even being honest-to-goodness electricity as opposed to fusion charges or plasma.<br /><br />What Daxton was looking for was whatever may have been powering the strong-force containment fields holding his friends and the alien creatures in place. That object would have been generating perhaps the most noticeable field of energy, and Daxton didn&rsquo;t have to sweep his vision around him long before he found it. A small generator was tucked amidst the tents, positioned out in the open. It hummed with stores of energy that would have likely had a half-life of a good many years. Daxton may as well have been looking at an open-air stadium in the dead of night with how much light was coming off that thing.<br /><br />&ldquo;Where are you looking?&rdquo; Garrison said, stepping between Daxton and his intended target, &ldquo;Are we doing this or have you lost your nerve?&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton looked to Garrison and his vision switched back to normal. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; He said. He stepped backward away from Garrison to put some distance between them. The boy turned his stance to place his feet just right, then raised his hands at the ready, one level with his chest and the other closer to his stomach.<br /><br />The crowd around Daxton started getting restless, murmuring among themselves. Garrison cracked his neck and smiled. &ldquo;Good!&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;So if you lose, you cough up the pig&rsquo;s location. And if you win?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Well then I win,&rdquo; Daxton said, &ldquo;And you&rsquo;d have gotten your butt kicked by a kid.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Garrison chuffed.<br /><br />Daxton and Garrison entered a step where they studied one another. They circled around the area between them, taking slow steps to see which one of them would make a move first. Daxton remained poised and ready, but Garrison seemed relaxed.<br /><br />&ldquo;So, you said you were born to fight, tough guy,&rdquo; Daxton said, &ldquo;So fight.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Hey, I&rsquo;m the bigger man,&rdquo; Garrison shrugged, turning toward Daxton and readying his fists, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll let you take the first shot.&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton just took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had the patience to wait, so he used it. Daxton wasn&rsquo;t as good at fighting straight-on, he was more reactionary. Back in school, any time he ever got into a fight he was the one to let his opponent take the first shot. Those opponents were often bullies or trouble-makers, kids who went out of their way to be a nuisance or upset someone else. The way Daxton saw it, Garrison was just an older bully. The thing about bullies? They were a prideful sort. Daxton didn&rsquo;t have to be in any rush.<br /><br />As the two continued to step in time, circling around so they were always facing one another no matter how much one tried to come in from an angle. With all the time spent idly sizing one another up, the crowd of soldiers grew impatient. They started to shout and holler, demanding that things proceed so they could get back to bed. With the rising excitement of the crowd, the alien creatures became restless as well. In their cells, they began to stir and shuffle. The small spider-like ones crawled and scuttled over one another; the lumbering red ones threw their bodies against their confines; and the giant, armored leviathan let loose a loud roaring cry, its head beginning to spin at a quickened pace.<br /><br />Daxton just <em>had</em> to get those things out of there. He did his best, though, to keep his attention focused on dealing with Garrison. One thing at a time, he thought.<br /><br />Daxton had been studying Aikido for three years, and it was an interesting fighting style that relied on careful attention to an opponent&rsquo;s incoming attacks. It was a defensive discipline rather than what someone might call a &ldquo;fighting style,&rdquo; requiring more than just swinging fists or throwing kicks. For being blind, Daxton had gotten very good at watching people. When he was interested in someone, he took cues from things like the way they walked, or if they had a habit of turning their head a certain way. Most people wouldn&rsquo;t even know Daxton was watching thanks to his STOP, and it didn&rsquo;t take him long to think of ways to maneuver around a person if he found it necessary. Normally he had more time, however, than he did with Garrison. What would normally take weeks, Daxton tried to cram into a few minutes.<br /><br />One couldn&rsquo;t deny the man&rsquo;s poise. Garrison carried himself confidently and with a constant imposing presence he used to intimidate his men without really lifting a finger. The bear was raw power, large and heavy with strength. To Daxton&rsquo;s benefit, that made him sluggish. Sure, Garrison could throw a punch proper and knew just where to place his feet at all times, but he was encumbered under his own weight. As strong as he was, it was all thanks to a sort of genetic manipulation &ndash; and probably muscle steroids, growth hormones, and other things pumped into him at the fetal stages. The modern human body wasn&rsquo;t made to handle a build like Garrison&rsquo;s; and even if the man had the force of a runaway train made of muscle slabs and thickened fat, something underneath couldn&rsquo;t maintain it. The short temper the man had was probably just one side-effect of whatever happened to him, but there had to be something more, something Daxton could exploit.<br /><br />Daxton had no other choice but to prod and see what happened. He was literally going to poke the bear, bringing that old adage to life.<br /><br />Daxton ducked down and stepped forward, throwing himself into a punch that Garrison simply&hellip; accepted. He took it right in his gut, which for being so round was not as soft as one might expect. Daxton&rsquo;s fist stopped dead and Garrison only grunted. The bear raised a mighty fist to bring down on Daxton from straight above, forcing the boy to leap back out of range, lest he find that fist in the back of his neck. Daxton didn&rsquo;t give Garrison any time to recover, and was quicker than the older man when he came back in and gave him one left hook right in the jaw. That had impact, and Garrison&rsquo;s head jerked aside.<br /><br />The old man&rsquo;s muscles made it too difficult for him to rise. It made sense; even if Garrison&rsquo;s legs were strong, the bulk of his strength and weight were focused on his torso. Daxton noticed this as his opponent shifted his stance. His legs suffered a bit of a drag.<br /><br />The young boy stepped back several paces and held out his hand flat. He curled his fingers in a clear, goading gesture.<br /><br />Garrison rushed forwards, pushing off and gaining momentum fast, pushing his shoulders into a charge. He went from being a bear to being a runaway train in mere moments. Daxton quickly hustled to step back further, extending the charge between him and Garrison right to the edge of the crowd where he was forced to stop. Garrison had to push that much harder to go that much further, and in doing so his momentum became too much for his legs to maintain. He was at that point getting away from himself. He had no choice but to thrust his fist toward Daxton when he was within arm&rsquo;s reach. It was a left straight, and Daxton had positioned his whole body parallel with Garrison&rsquo;s, his stance a straight line of specifically positioned footing and hips. He stepped further out to the left, and Garrison passed him by.<br /><br />Daxton touched the man&rsquo;s wrist, gripped it, and pulled it. Garrison began to flounder. Daxton grabbed Garrison&rsquo;s arm and guided it, manipulating the man all too easily to turn just short of running face-first into one of his comrades. With an almost fluid motion Daxton spun the man by wrenching his wrist, guiding him to the ground where Garrison fell flat on his front. Wasting no time, Daxton stepped over the bear&rsquo;s large body, took hold of his sausage-like thumb in one hand and the rest of his fingers in the other, and pulled until he heard a pop. Garrison&rsquo;s thumb had been effectively dislocated.<br /><br />The way the man screamed in pain was surprisingly brief. He absorbed the pain swiftly, sucking it in through grit teeth. The kid let him go, and the old bear turned to his side to grab him before he got away. Using his damaged hand and suffering through the pain of doing so, Garrison grabbed Daxton by his arm and held it. Try as he might, the kid was stuck then. Garrison&rsquo;s grip was iron.<br /><br />This allowed Garrison all the time in the world to stand, ignoring Daxton&rsquo;s fussing like a father would a young child&rsquo;s. Once the man was on his feet, he reared back his other fist and sent it crashing into Daxton&rsquo;s face. The boy was knocked senseless, hearing something in his jaw snap and experiencing a static feedback from his STOP. Garrison released him to allow the boy to drunkenly stumble around as his mind reeled from the impact. His legs wobbled and he collapsed to the ground &ndash; the dirt and leaves felt all too comfortable, and his body didn&rsquo;t want to move.<br /><br />Garrison spit into the dirt, then took a deep breath as he gripped his thumb with his other hand and wrenched it back into place with a second loud pop. He didn&rsquo;t cry out, but his expression hinted at the sharp pain that had shot up his whole arm, as did his shaking fingers.<br /><br />&ldquo;You little shit,&rdquo; Garrison shook his hand out, &ldquo;Where did you learn that?&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton didn&rsquo;t answer. He was still trying to determine if he actually felt pain in his face or not, or if anything on his features had been improperly rearranged. Something had. His jaw was loose, sagging at an awkward angle. Pain rushed in and cold liquid dribbled from his lips. He couldn&rsquo;t even grit his teeth to muscle through the pain, as any tension in his jaw muscles was met with excruciating pangs. When he heard Garrison&rsquo;s weighted footfalls, the boy first tried moving his arms. Doing so made it feel like he was dragging through a vat of sticky honey. It could have been that he was lightly concussed, or just in so much pain around his face that his brain was swimming in adrenaline. In spite of it all, Daxton shook as he pushed his elbows under his body and began to raise himself upright.<br /><br />Daxton heaved, spittle and blood escaping his lips as he sat up straight. He was sent back down to the Earth by a large boot crushing his chest, slamming his back into the ground. Garrison stood over him, staring down at the boy. &ldquo;You lose, punk,&rdquo; He said, not even smiling with his victory, &ldquo;Guess maybe I was a bit too rough on you though. How are you supposed to tell me where the Inkling is when your face is all busted up?&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton&rsquo;s teeth met in an awkward spacing, but grinding them produced a clicking, grinding sensation. His face throbbed and ached in a manner he&rsquo;d never felt before. The pain was tremendous, but in his mind he reminded himself that pain was temporary. Short of sending his body into a state of shock, pain wasn&rsquo;t something to be afraid of. He&rsquo;d scraped knees, broken an arm, and been punched enough times that he knew pain would simply fade over time&hellip; so he stopped being afraid of it at some point in his life. He couldn&rsquo;t quite remember when, but he had, and it was that utter lack of fear that pressed him to plant his hand against his jaw and push until it popped back into place with a disconcerting crack.<br /><br />&ldquo;Gngh!&rdquo; He cried out regardless of how unafraid he was, whimpering like a pup as he let his arm drop to his side. If Garrison could relocate a bone, so could he, and he hoped the feat would be a surprise to his opponent at least. Of course, at that point Daxton&rsquo;s STOP was failing to transfer full signals. His vision skipped and fizzled as his brain stopped receiving bits of transfer. He was getting dizzy, and about to lose consciousness.<br /><br />Garrison watched as Daxton&rsquo;s hand shakily grabbed hold of his pant leg and gripped tightly, and his eyes blinked in some surprise.<br /><br />&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid that&rsquo;s far enough.&rdquo;<br /><br />A youthful voice rose up over the crowd of silenced spectators, perking ears and drawing gazes to its source. Garrison looked up from Daxton&rsquo;s body and watched as the crowd parted toward the other end of the camp. There, by the power generator, stood a boy unlike no other. He had a long mane of red hair, but no fur to speak of. His features were sharp, shaped differently than any human being on the planet. More accurately, he was unlike any human being <em>left</em> on the planet. Moonlight played off his skin and made his jade eyes shine. Compared to the crowd, he looked imposing &ndash; he was broad, despite being so lithe. The segmented red shirt hid little of his shape and showed strong abdominal muscles.<br /><br />&ldquo;A man your age should know better than to bear down on someone so much younger than he is,&rdquo; The youth said.<br /><br />&ldquo;It&rsquo;s that pre-splicer.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;That super hero from forever ago.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;That&rsquo;s Captain Comet!&rdquo;<br /><br />Garrison lifted a brow to the crowd, then focused his attention on the human. &ldquo;Impossible-to-get-an-interview Jacent Danger,&rdquo; He said, lifting his foot off Daxton&rsquo;s body, &ldquo;Guess you&rsquo;re not out for a stroll?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh, I was just enjoying some of the night air and had to come see one of the future&rsquo;s biggest attractions,&rdquo; Jacent glared, &ldquo;The camp hidden in the dark full of illegal weaponry and villainous scum.&rdquo;<br /><br />Garrison puckered his lips in thought. &ldquo;Well, I guess it&rsquo;s in your nature to make big, heroic speeches,&rdquo; He said.<br /><br />&ldquo;How&rsquo;s this?&rdquo; Jacent raised an eyebrow and rested his hand gently on the thrumming machine providing power for the camp&rsquo;s slight need. &ldquo;Step away from that boy, or you&rsquo;re going to regret it.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;I&hellip; don&rsquo;t think so, Ink-lover,&rdquo; Garrison snarled.<br /><br />Jacent turned his hand to gently place his fingertips against the side of the generator, hand flat. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t make me count,&rdquo; He said.<br /><br />The crowd immediately took up what arms they had. Not every person there had a firearm, but the odds were numerous-to-one, and not in Jacent&rsquo;s favour. Even as the weaponry hummed with the intent to fire, Jacent didn&rsquo;t move a muscle. His stillness rewarded him with a moment of hesitance as no weapon went off either. All eyes were on him then.<br /><br />&ldquo;What&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; on out there?&rdquo; Laila asked, trying almost ironically to climb onto Casey, though from her end of the camp she could only see the backs of numerous heads, &ldquo;What&rsquo;s he doin&rsquo;?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; Garrison said, &ldquo;You&rsquo;re not from around here, so I&rsquo;ll let you in on a little something. Those friends of yours are bad news for Earth. Inklings are dangerous. We&rsquo;re sitting on the perfect time to give them the boot and go back to normal. If you raise a fist against us, you&rsquo;re on their side. Aren&rsquo;t you supposed to be human?&rdquo;<br /><br />Jacent&rsquo;s eyes befell the scene of Daxton&rsquo;s nigh-unconscious body, blood running down his face, eyes covered by his hat, worn and ragged. &ldquo;I would ask you the same question,&rdquo; He answered, then began his count; &ldquo;One&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;You are&hellip; you are really pushing it, kid,&rdquo; Garrison chuckled wryly.<br /><br />&ldquo;Two,&rdquo; Jacent continued, unwavering.<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh to hell with this!&rdquo; Garrison readied his own weapon, and in the time he had to grab and raise it from where it hung off his chest, Jacent curled his fingers into a sudden fist, driving it into the machine with a sudden unleash of energy blowing past him, throwing his ruby red hair around. All at once, the hard force containment fields around the camp faded, flickering into nothingness as the generators that spawned them powered down. The alien creatures once contained within those fields seemed to crumple outward, not expecting their constraints to suddenly vanish. They tumbled onto heaps atop one another, as did Laila and Casey when their resistance disappeared. Jacent removed his fist from within the machine with metal bits and bolts crumbling away.<br /><br />&ldquo;FIRE!&rdquo; Garrison roared, unleashing a hail of force projectiles in Jacent&rsquo;s direction. Jacent ducked down behind the machine and took cover as the generator started to loose chunks of metal and tubing, fizzling and crackling and bursting with energy as it was pelted by the suppression rifles&rsquo; force bullets. The crowd advanced, though only briefly as they were beset by the alien creatures flying into a rage. They poured out from all over the camp, skittering, shuffling, and outright trouncing from their pens in a chorus of honks, screeches, and other strange, alien sounds.<br /><br />What followed was utter chaos. In moments the soldiers found themselves fending off their would-be captives. Gun-toting men and women found themselves backing away from the slow advances of lumbering red giants, while struggling when revoltingly violet, multi-legged creatures leapt up and clung to their faces, arms, or torsos. They were grabbed, bashed, scratched, and beaten, their once almost-organized firing line falling into disarray. Some were grabbed around their ankles by slimy green tendrils and were brought to the ground where they were dragged back into the forest, clawing and screaming every inch of the way.<br /><br />Garrison had stepped forward with an intent of advancing on Jacent, and continued firing at the young man as he tumbled out from behind his cover and sprinted through the resulting battle. Garrison dashed to pursue him, but was stopped when the hulking, chitin form of the biggest, maddest monster in that camp swept him off his feet with one mighty arm. Garrison growled and hung on, dangling as the monster rose him into the air. Bones within its insectoid jaws began to spin like blades in a blender, and the hulking creature was intent to descend one of Garrison&rsquo;s feet into the mess. Letting out a roaring cry, Garrison turned his weapon on the beast&rsquo;s mouth with one hand and began to fire wildly into it.<br /><br />All the while, Daxton just laid there, unable to move. Surely, he thought, he&rsquo;d be stepped on, and he very nearly had as the hulking bug-ape creature stumbled under Garrison&rsquo;s assault. Daxton very narrowly turned to avoid one clawed foot stomping into the ground next to his head. He wouldn&rsquo;t have been able to keep that up, but his savior came in the form of a yellow tendril that lashed out from behind some tents and sticking to his chest like glue. Dumbly, Daxton tried to grab at it, but barely moved a muscle before the tendril reeled back and took him sailing through the dirt toward the sticky thing&rsquo;s source. The boy nearly took out some well-placed tarps as he was reeled in like a fish.<br /><br />Daxton tumbled when the thing gave him some slack and his blurred vision showed him the visage of one strange, lime-green creature whose features shined in the moonlight, with yellow eyes that looked painted on staring big and bold at him. Accompanying that thing was a similarly jello-ish thing of bubblegum pink with big ears and solid white eyes that glowed brightly in whatever light there was. Their shapes spun and doubled, and Daxton couldn&rsquo;t make out what they were&hellip; the only point of reference had had was Duplex. They looked a lot like Duplex, except&hellip; much, much brighter.<br /><br />&ldquo;Could you not drag him like that? Honestly, you&rsquo;re likely to injure him more!&rdquo; A posh, girlish voice said.<br /><br />&ldquo;Schowwy!&rdquo; Came a more masculine, gravelly tone, speaking as if the creature&rsquo;s tongue was stuck past its lips. Their voices sounded strange, but that could have just been Daxton&rsquo;s rattled brain.<br /><br />The pink thing took Daxton&rsquo;s vision, leaning over his body. &ldquo;Just hold still, darling, we&rsquo;re here to help,&rdquo; Came the female voice again, matching some vaguely registered movements of the bubblegum thing&rsquo;s white mouth. Hands gripped Daxton&rsquo;s head and gently lifted it, then one grasped the back of his hat and began pulling it up over his head to remove it. Once it was off, however, Daxton&rsquo;s head was promptly dropped again.<br /><br />&ldquo;GOOD HEAVENS WHAT DID THEY DO TO HIS EYES?!&rdquo; The female voice screamed in horror.<br /><br />&ldquo;Aie-yie-yie! Mis oidos!&rdquo; The male voice cringed, &ldquo;Shh, chika! Someone&rsquo;s going to hear your wails!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;I-I-I just, I just...! Oh my goodness, oh no,&rdquo; The female panicked. Daxton couldn&rsquo;t see a thing at that point and his hearing was sliding between clarity and muffled sounds. Commotion from around the camp threatened to drown out his saviors&rsquo; voices. Sounds of screams, hollers, and Garrison barking orders throughout the camp rose so loudly, it was a wonder that even his acute hearing could pick them up. He laid there as they fussed over him, before finally feeling a salve-like substance get smeared onto his face. He scrunched his brow in confusion, not sure what was happening to him, but as the goop was rubbed into his face it soaked in and disappeared. It must have been some form of medicine, because in moments the pain he felt began to subside. His head began to clear and even the aches in his body felt as if they were simply disappearing.<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh, this isn&rsquo;t good, his eyes&hellip;!&rdquo; The female fussed, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t fix that! Why, they must have torn them right out! The brutes! What horrid animals!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Who could do something like that?!&rdquo; The gravelly male seemed to tremble.<br /><br />Pain throbbed still, but much more dully in Daxton&rsquo;s face. &ldquo;Mrn&hellip; Anophthalmia,&rdquo; He muttered.<br /><br />&ldquo;What?&rdquo; The female voice questioned.<br /><br />&ldquo;Anophthalmia,&rdquo; Daxton repeated as he tried moving his arms. He found he could push himself up with ease, though his senses were still a little fuzzy.<br /><br />&ldquo;Ano&hellip; ano&hellip; pulthamia?&rdquo; The male voice repeated, &ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh! Ohhh, that&rsquo;s Anophthalmia. AN-OFF-THAL-MI-AH,&rdquo; The girl said, &ldquo;It means that he doesn&rsquo;t have any eyes. Oh thank goodness, I was frightened half to death.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Thank goodness?! That means he has no eyes!&rdquo; The boy croaked.<br /><br />&ldquo;My hat&rsquo;s a STOP,&rdquo; Daxton held out his hand, &ldquo;Let me have it back.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;That makes worlds of sense,&rdquo; The girl breathed, &ldquo;Here you are.&rdquo;<br /><br />Retrieving his hat, Daxton was quick to put it back on his head. After a short few moments, his vision returned with some static that cleared out. What he saw sitting in front of him made him recoil, scuttling backward through the dirt with one arm raised to fend off any sudden attacks. The two teenagers in front of him were Inklings! They were just like Duplex, except one was a glossy pink bat with white eyes and mouth, and a white scarf around her neck that looked more like some shiny taffy string than anything. The other was a reptile, possibly some sort of iguana, whose inky features were a shockingly bright green with yellows eyes and mouth. They seemed just as startled as Daxton was at his reaction.<br /><br />&ldquo;No! No bro, we&rsquo;re not bad guys!&rdquo; The reptile Inkling said, &ldquo;We&rsquo;re good guys!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Yes, don&rsquo;t be alarmed,&rdquo; The bat added, &ldquo;We&rsquo;re from Locksmouth, and we&rsquo;re here to save you from&hellip; from whatever is going on around here! My name is Samantha, and my friend here is Max.&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton&rsquo;s attention was suddenly drawn toward the other end of the camp, looking away from his saviors. &ldquo;I gotta help my friends!&rdquo; He shouted, turning to scramble onto his feet despite protests from the Inklings. He was up and racing through the camp in moments, rushing through the chaos that had erupted thanks to the release of the aliens. He just barely ducked out of the way of a rifle blast that had flown past him, and leapt over a slimy green tentacle as he disappeared from sight.<br /><br />&ldquo;Well he could have at least gone around <em>behind</em> the tents!&rdquo; Samantha huffed, standing and brushing her knees off.<br /><br />&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s go!&rdquo; Max bounced to his feet like a spring and scooped Samantha up in his arm, making her squeak in surprise. He lashed out his tongue &ndash; a sticky, yellow thing &ndash; and connected to a nearby tree branch, swinging up and away with his friend in tow. She shouted the whole way as Max swung from tree to tree using his tongue as a rope.<br /><br />&ldquo;Eeek! I&rsquo;m perfectly capable of&hellip;! Ahhh! Max!!&rdquo; Sam screamed and flailed as she was whisked away.<br /><br />-<br />--<br />-<br /><br />&ldquo;So how do you prepare for a party in space?&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny smiled, big and cheesy, as he looked down at Quincey. The rotund pig tried not to look miserable and sore as she looked up at him from where her head rested in his lap.<br /><br />&ldquo;Um&hellip; I don&rsquo;t know, how?&rdquo; She asked.<br /><br />&ldquo;You <strong>planet</strong>,&rdquo; Kenny finished his joke with an almost malicious grin.<br /><br />&ldquo;Ugh, that&rsquo;s terrible,&rdquo; Quincey clenched her eyes shut to absorb the blunt impact of Kenny&rsquo;s joke.<br /><br />&ldquo;Okay, what do you call a fake noodle?&rdquo; Kenny continued.<br /><br />Quincey opened her tired eyes and looked up at him. &ldquo;What?&rdquo; She asked.<br /><br />&ldquo;An <strong>impasta</strong>.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Oooogh,&rdquo; Quincey hid her face beneath her hands, &ldquo;No more!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;What do you call an alligator in a vest?&rdquo; Kenny asked.<br /><br />Not waiting for her answer he said, &ldquo;An <strong>investigator</strong>.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;I&rsquo;m crying,&rdquo; Quincey whined.<br /><br />The pair had been at it for hours. After getting stuck in a barn-like storehouse and locked up like prisoners, Quincey concluded that falling asleep was something she needed to avoid. Inside her was an angry, impatient creature that seemed more than willing to take advantage of any lapse in her defense. Duplex would take over her body again and do something, <em>anything</em> to get out of that prison and on its way to Locksmouth, consequences be damned. All Quincey had to do, she thought, was stay awake to avoid such a thing from happening. There was no way of knowing what the residents of Clarkston would do with her, but the idea of setting Duplex loose seemed less favourable.<br /><br />She remembered what it did at her home, how it hurt her mother. Something like Duplex was dangerous and unpredictable, no matter how good its intentions may have been. Quincey wasn&rsquo;t ready to subject anyone to that if she could help it. Thankfully, Duplex had been silent since their initial locking-up. That was a good sign, but Quincey wasn&rsquo;t going to let her guard down for a moment. The only problem was that she was tired and cold, and Kenny had been providing warmth along with his support. Quincey could have fallen asleep at any moment &ndash; it wouldn&rsquo;t have been the first time she&rsquo;d done so with Kenny. He was deceptively comforting, despite being so prickly more often than not.<br /><br />That was strange. Usually Kenny yelled at her, scolded her, and chastised her for things like her eating habits and helpless tendencies. He had done that right up until they had fallen into the river and been carried to Clarkston. After that, Kenny became nothing but supportive&hellip; but Quincey couldn&rsquo;t help but worry. At moments like just then, when he fell into a silent lull between his forced bad jokes to make her smile, he trembled. Sometimes his breathing became heavy and he&rsquo;d calm himself down, sometimes his words were strained. Quincey noticed it all, but had been afraid to say anything&hellip; at least until he went quiet again, and she needed something to keep her awake.<br /><br />&ldquo;Kenny,&rdquo; She said, squinting at his silhouette in the darkness, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s going to be okay.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny sniffed. &ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo; He asked.<br /><br />&ldquo;Well&hellip; um, you&rsquo;re here with me,&rdquo; She answered, &ldquo;Right?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Yeah,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;I just&hellip; I don&rsquo;t know what to do. So, yeah, me being here is great. I&rsquo;m just useless. What if something happens to you?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Duplex won&rsquo;t kill me,&rdquo; Quincey reached up and found one of the boy&rsquo;s hands, linking her fingers between his and holding the back of his hand against her chest. He seemed to relax, but just a little.<br /><br />&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not gonna rule that out though,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;And at this point I&rsquo;m more worried about other people than that thing. That thing&rsquo;s at least been in you for, like, a week. These nature-loving morons are likely to come in here and stick you with a pitchfork. If they don&rsquo;t, those stupid mercenaries or whatever the heck they are will come and&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s okay. Daxton will come and we&rsquo;ll be okay,&rdquo; Quincey forced a tired smile.<br /><br />Kenny sighed. &ldquo;Look,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;Daxton&rsquo;s great and all, really. I&rsquo;ve never seen him back down from anything, sure. But this is different. We have to accept the idea that he might not actually make it here and do something ourselves.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Yes, well&hellip; if we get out we can always go up the river and find them,&rdquo; Quincey agreed, &ldquo;But Daxton will make it. Daxton always makes it. You remember when the kids at the elementary got their ball stuck on the roof and Daxton climbed up the wall to get it down. Or when he saved me from getting hit by that lunch truck. He saved you after you picked a fight with Laila&rsquo;s old friends, too.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Yeah but this isn&rsquo;t any of that!&rdquo; Kenny growled as mean as a rodent could, &ldquo;This is people with weapons and aliens and we are locked in a country warehouse that&rsquo;s freezing cold and nobody&rsquo;s bringing us any food and there&rsquo;s chains on the door!&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny took a breath after exhausting his air. &ldquo;This is bigger than stuff like that,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care if he can take on all of Laila&rsquo;s old pack at once. This isn&rsquo;t Laila&rsquo;s old pack.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;That doesn&rsquo;t matter,&rdquo; Quincey said curtly, &ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t matter what it is, Daxton won&rsquo;t quit. I&rsquo;ve known him longer than you have.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;What makes him so goddamn special anyway?&rdquo; Kenny grit his teeth, &ldquo;Why do you like him so much?!&rdquo;<br /><br />The pair went quiet, Quincey taking in Kenny&rsquo;s angry tone and Kenny trying to retreat from it. After a moment&rsquo;s thought, Quincey shook her head. &ldquo;I guess&hellip; I&rsquo;m just happy for him,&rdquo; She said, &ldquo;It used to be that he wasn&rsquo;t like that at all.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny huffed, &ldquo;Yeah? And what was he like then, huh?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s see&hellip;&rdquo; Quincey thought, &ldquo;When I first went to live with Daxton&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />Quincey thought back to one of the strangest points in her life, something she remembered being very uncomfortable with. When she was born, her parents had somehow managed to accidentally conceive her. That was nothing short of a miracle considering most people were fighting to have a child at all, let alone stumbling upon one by mistake. Her mother and father were still buried in their studies when they got together and had Quincey &ndash; they weren&rsquo;t even married at the time, and their relationship had been in an awkward zone between romantic and casual. They had three years of schooling left to go through to their medical professions, and so Quincey needed the help of her parents&rsquo; packs to ensure she was raised proper.<br /><br />It was Edward Kemberge, the beaver that had known Quincey&rsquo;s father, Walter, since their own elementary years, who came through and agreed to take Quincey home. This was after a few years, and Quincey had gotten to the age of three under tremendous struggle as her parents tried to just make it work. There were plenty of day-programs and sitters to watch over the girl, but she needed something more permanent, more settled-in, and most importantly at home in Harbington. Edward and his husband, Eddie, had just adopted their own young boy and the idea was fairly simple &ndash; Quincey could stay with them and ideally get along with their new pup, Daxton. Before she even knew what was happening, Quincey found herself taken out of Locksmouth and the busy university life of her parents and returned home to Harbington to live on the residential outskirts with the Kemberges.<br /><br />Her memory was a little fuzzy, but she thought she must have been very sad. It was hard to tell from any standpoint just what her parents thought about her. She was undoubtedly an accident and she had always felt in her early years that there was some kind of disconnect between her and them because of it. Any vague memory she had of arriving at this brand new home with two would-be fathers she&rsquo;d never met and a strange adopted boy felt lonely. It was like moving from strangers to strangers.<br /><br />She was shy, but like most kids at that age she tried to gravitate toward someone of her age-group. Daxton back then, however, was an aloof boy, a real loner who didn&rsquo;t seem comfortable with anyone. At the time, Quincey never realized that he was going through something very similar to her own situation. To her, he was just there, and that meant she was supposed to be there with him&hellip; plus he was strange. Quincey couldn&rsquo;t help but be curious about the boy.<br /><br />She&rsquo;d never met someone who didn&rsquo;t have eyes before, and Daxton seemed distressed by it. She didn&rsquo;t understand as a kid how Daxton&rsquo;s STOP allowed him to see, and she definitely didn&rsquo;t understand why sometimes Daxton&rsquo;s fathers would take the STOP away from him for a while and try to acclimate him to life without sight. Whenever they did though, Quincey watched the worst of Daxton emerge from that quiet canine shell of a boy. He became helpless and scared, even when his parents were right there with him trying to ease him into simply walking or crawling around without being able to see.<br /><br />Quincey felt so sad watching that. The memory of her sadness was crystal clear, unlike most things from her childhood. She hated watching Daxton struggle and she wanted so badly to help him, but she couldn&rsquo;t budge from her spot on the sidelines; she was too scared to. Eventually she turned five, barely getting to know Daxton in the almost two years she lived with his family. She&rsquo;d grown to like Edward and Eddie, but Daxton maintained a role as a grumpy brother who wanted nothing to do with any of them. There was just one thing that changed all that&hellip;<br /><br />A log.<br /><br />At five years old, Daxton&rsquo;s motor skills had grown enough that his sensory-deprivation therapy called for the greater situational awareness of balance. The exercise was straightforward: without his STOP, Daxton had to navigate a balancing beam. Edward and Eddie set up a log on two stumps out in their back yard and took Daxton out there every day to walk him across it. Quincey watched from the sidelines as the boy and his parents went through routine exercises made to show Daxton that the world wasn&rsquo;t something to be scared of when it all went dark. When it came to the log, however, Daxton&rsquo;s balance was horrendous. His number of steps taken to cross it without help paled in comparison to the times he fell off.<br /><br />Eventually he quit. After falling off and scraping his knees and elbows half a million times, he swore he&rsquo;d never cross that log.<br /><br />&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t just sit there any more, I didn&rsquo;t really care if he didn&rsquo;t like me&hellip;&rdquo; Quincey explained her story to Kenny, &ldquo;I just&hellip; he needed help. So I&hellip; helped.&rdquo;<br /><br />When Quincey and Daxton were out playing in the back yard, Quincey started trying to talk Daxton into going across the log. Naturally at first he didn&rsquo;t agree; rather he got angry with Quincey for trying to force him. For a while his anger curbed her enthusiasm, but eventually she started getting up on that log herself to walk across it, to show Daxton it could be done. Unfortunately, like him, her balance wasn&rsquo;t very good. She fell off more often than not. She bumped her head, scraped her knees, fell hard on the ground&hellip; She cried and cried in pain, but eventually she would just get up and try again. This went on for a while, and eventually Daxton noticed.<br /><br />He started to watch her, quietly. When she fell enough times, he started helping her up.<br /><br />&ldquo;Why are you doing that?&rdquo; He would ask.<br /><br />Her answer was so simple at the time. If she could do it, then he could too.<br /><br />&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not good at a lot,&rdquo; She would say, &ldquo;But Commander Benson says &lsquo;Never say that you can&rsquo;t!&rsquo;&rdquo;<br />&ldquo;But what if you can&rsquo;t?&rdquo; He&rsquo;d ask.<br /><br />&ldquo;But maybe you can!&rdquo; She&rsquo;d say.<br /><br />At the cost of a couple weeks of cuts, bruises, scrapes, and a more major injury, Quincey finally got Daxton up onto that log. She&rsquo;d been afraid of getting hurt, but eventually it paid off when Daxton started getting up there on his own and taking a few steps without his sight to help him.<br /><br />Daxton would wobble around and fall, but falling wasn&rsquo;t so bad. Quincey made a wonderful cushion, even when she was just five years old. When he came crashing down to Earth he didn&rsquo;t hit the hard, grassy ground. Instead he&rsquo;d flatten poor Quincey under him and find himself wrapped up in her little arms. She hugged him and doted on him when he got scared and upset, and eventually he stopped being scared or upset. When he was ready to go, she&rsquo;d let him go and he&rsquo;d get back up there only to fall on her again.<br /><br />Days and days and days&hellip;<br /><br />A twisted ankle. Three pairs of broken glasses. Five boxes of kids&rsquo; bandages. Torn clothes. Shared baths. Nighttime cuddles. Hand-holding. More falls. More soft landings. More steps. More progress.<br /><br />Eventually Daxton&rsquo;s balance training was left entirely in Quincey&rsquo;s capable hands. Edward and Eddie sat back to watch as Daxton made it one step at a time.<br /><br />The very last time Daxton fell off that log, it was off the other side of it.<br /><br />Quincey smiled, &ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t there to catch him that time, but he got up and ran right to me. I think it was that moment he started changing. All of a sudden he was trying to do everything just for the sake of doing it; and I knew I wanted to be there every time he accomplished something. I loved watching him get good at things. Eventually he&hellip; he didn&rsquo;t need me anymore. But even though he didn&rsquo;t need me he&hellip; kept coming back. He started telling me that I could do things, and&hellip; I was really happy.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny blinked a few times, his fingers stroking through Quincey&rsquo;s hair as her head rested still on his lap. &ldquo;So&hellip; it&rsquo;s because of you,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;Figures.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Figures?&rdquo; Quincey asked.<br /><br />Kenny nodded. &ldquo;Yep,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;You&rsquo;re always the one. He does everything for you. So&hellip; because of that you never doubt him? What if he actually just&hellip; can&rsquo;t? What if something happens?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;I just have to believe nothing bad will happen,&rdquo; Quincey shrugged, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s&hellip; just a risk I have to take. I have to put all my heart into believing in him because I love him. I always have.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny lifted his gaze and turned it toward the closed barn doors. &ldquo;Love, huh,&rdquo; He muttered, &ldquo;And you&rsquo;re not worried?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;He loves me too,&rdquo; Quincey yawned.<br /><br />Kenny caught her yawn and yawned in kind. &ldquo;What does that have to do with anything?&rdquo; He asked.<br /><br />&ldquo;I think it has to do with everything,&rdquo; The girl answered.<br /><br />&ldquo;Sounds kinda na&iuml;ve to me,&rdquo; Kenny closed his eyes involuntarily and let his head fall back against the wall, &ldquo;It&rsquo;d just make me worry more.&rdquo;<br /><br />Quincey shifted along the dirt floor. &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; She said.<br /><br />Running out of words to say, the two fell silent. Eventually the only sound that was made was the gentle snort of a pig-girl&rsquo;s snore.<br /><br />-<br />--<br />-<br /><br />&ldquo;Stop right there!&rdquo; An armed doe raised her ASPR-20 at the corgi boy running through the chaos that had erupted around her, only remaining vaguely aware of her orders to restrain the boy and his friends. Her mind was a million places at once, her attention pulled by the shouts of her comrades and the firing of other rifles like hers. Maybe that was why she didn&rsquo;t fire right away, or maybe she just didn&rsquo;t have the heart to. Either way, Daxton was upon her before she was ready. The boy shoved her rifle aside and drove his shoulder into her gut. Her face made a comical expression as the air from her lungs was forced out of her face. Daxton lifted her off the ground, spun her, and came crashing down to earth with her. Her back slammed off the ground and her gut received another shoulder. She was far too busy coughing and gasping for air to stop him then.<br /><br />&ldquo;Out of my way!&rdquo; Daxton shouted even as he turned away from the woman and continued his mad dash, pushing past some other grunts attempting to get their bearings in the alien monster mash. It didn&rsquo;t take him long to reach the far side of the camp where he found the containment field once holding his friends captive lowered, and his friends were nowhere to be found.<br /><br />Daxton whipped his head left and right to frantically sweep the area for any signs of Laila and Casey. He saw Max and Sam first, however, as the lime green reptile boy latched his tongue onto a branch and used some inherent elasticity to propel himself into a low swing where he dropped Sam off not far from him. He continued for a bit, only to have a low-hanging tree branch suddenly release from a cocked-back position and slam into his chest like a baseball bat. He made a funny wheezing sound as he was flung backwards and onto the dirt, his tongue falling limp like wet spaghetti over his head and behind him.<br /><br />From behind the tree marched Laila. &ldquo;Got&rsquo;chya you interstellar varmint!&rdquo; She shouted, ready to dash before she saw Daxton staring at her. Her face lit up in anxious excitement and she hurried over to him. Casey stepped out from behind the tree to follow, and Sam hurried to Max to see if he was alright.<br /><br />&ldquo;We gotta get outta here!&rdquo; Laila yelled as she snatched up Daxton&rsquo;s arm, &ldquo;Before anyone goes seein&rsquo; us!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Those guys are helping us!&rdquo; Daxton scolded the giraffe&rsquo;s hasty actions, gesturing to the pink and green jelly-people nearby, &ldquo;They say they&rsquo;re from Locksmouth! They must be Echelon&rsquo;s guys!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; Laila stopped in her tracks and she turned her attention to the Inklings. They stared back at her with disapproving faces.<br /><br />&ldquo;Owwww&hellip;&rdquo; Max coughed, &ldquo;With friends like that!&rdquo;<br /><br />Laila&rsquo;s face melted into a wide-eyed &lsquo;oh!&rsquo; and she cringed. &ldquo;Oh! Oh&hellip;! Um! I&rsquo;m mighty sorry ya&rsquo;ll!&rdquo; She waved to them.<br /><br />&ldquo;Those are the ones alright,&rdquo; Casey interjected hurriedly, &ldquo;We can trust them. I think. We should stick close to them, and&hellip; is the one out there the pre-splicer?&rdquo;<br /><br />Casey looked to Daxton for an answer, who just cocked his head a little. &ldquo;What? I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Daxton said, &ldquo;Maybe. Whatever, let&rsquo;s just go! We&rsquo;re gonna find Quincey, just follow the river!&rdquo;<br /><br />The group took off quickly toward the river, past Sam and Max who got up to follow them as quickly as their legs could carry them. It was a great distance to the river, the camp having been nestled in the clearing amidst many trees in order to stay out of sight. Pushing through the thick brush, they arrived at the rushing water just when the fighting became quieter and more distanced. There they saw their ticket &ndash; a flatbed vehicle mounted with a turret weapon, just like the ones they had seen before being taken to the camp as prisoners.<br /><br />It seemed the driver inside had powered up the system but hadn&rsquo;t moved the vehicle at all, and their partner in the bed of the vehicle had his weapon tuned toward the camp. Both had been watching, quiet and out of the way, as their comrades battled the sudden outbreak of the alien creatures. Both had been too afraid to help, uncertain as to whether or not their team could even handle that level of chaos. They were ready to turn tail and run, but wanted to sit it out and see how things ended up. They didn&rsquo;t expect to see the three prisoners and two Inklings rush out of the brush at them &ndash; both groups were caught entirely by surprise.<br /><br />The turret handler swung the lightweight weapon on its stand to aim at the group, only to have a sticky appendage latch onto his chest, caked in some yellow goop. A hard pull took him off his feet and sent him over the edge of the flatbed and tumbling toward the ground. He hit his head on the way down and flopped onto the ground in a state of disorientation, rendering the immediate danger of sudden turret fire inert. The driver stepped out of the vehicle in a hurry as Daxton and Laila rushed in, not having enough time to ready his weapon before the giraffe and corgi were on him. Laila grabbed the panda&rsquo;s gun and lifted it high up &ndash; so high he was forced to release it. He instead tried to turn his hands down on Daxton, who had pinned him to the truck. He struggled for a while to force the boy off, and was so distracted he hadn&rsquo;t noticed the small pink bat sneak in beside him.<br /><br />Lifting her leg, Sam ejected a mighty kick to the man&rsquo;s knee that brought him down. He slipped out of his rifle&rsquo;s harness and fell almost limp, allowing Daxton to guide him to the ground, mount him, and feed him repeated punches until he stopped moving.<br /><br />&ldquo;Take the vehicle!&rdquo; Casey shouted, hurrying around the back of it to the passenger side.<br /><br />Sam climbed into the cabin, and Laila pushed Daxton aside with one arm, the incapacitated panda man&rsquo;s rifle in her other hand. &ldquo;Ya&rsquo;ll hop in back,&rdquo; She said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m drivin&rsquo;.&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton, not one to argue, frantically climbed up the side of the truck and threw himself over the guard rail into the flatbed. Max scampered on in behind him, landing and quickly pulling the back hatch closed.<br /><br />&ldquo;Guh&hellip;&rdquo; Daxton panted, rolling into the turret stand as he tried to right himself.<br /><br />The truck lifted from the ground as the grav skiffs hummed to life. They were shifted harshly into thrust position with a loud thud, thrumming with building power before firing off like cannons into the night. The vehicle shot forward at a breakneck acceleration that sent Max and Daxton tumbling to the back of the vehicle, hitting the hatch with a harsh bang.<br /><br />Laila gripped the steering wheel tightly, rifle in her lap. Sam grabbed her arm from next to her, where she sat in the middle between passenger and driver. &ldquo;Hold on a moment!&rdquo; She said, &ldquo;We can&rsquo;t leave without Jacent!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; Laila shot a look to the inked bat.<br /><br />&ldquo;Our friend,&rdquo; Sam said, &ldquo;He&rsquo;s in the thick of it right now, we simply must go back for him!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Can we really drive through the middle of all that?&rdquo; Casey gripped the dash for dear life.<br /><br />&ldquo;We sure can!&rdquo; Laila said, reaching to push a few buttons on the dashboard console, then grabbing hold of the shift stick and cranking it. The skiffs hissed in protest as they were angled sharply to suddenly lift the truck higher into the air, bearing more g-forces down on Max and Daxton as the angle of the truck rose nose skyward. Even Sam squeaked at the sudden shift in altitude, every action Laila taking making the truck jerk and grind its machinery. &ldquo;More appropriate, we can drive right <em>into</em> the middle of that!&rdquo; Laila said.<br /><br />The truck evened out in the sky with a sudden wave as its back-end caught up with the rest of it. The vertical fishtail maneuver threw Max over the back of the truck, but he was quick to latch onto the metal and keep from falling. Daxton only half went over, and he grabbed Max&rsquo;s strange, gooey arms and hauled him back into the bed.<br /><br />From that high up, the entire scene played out before them. Sam climbed into Laila&rsquo;s lap to stick her head out the driver&rsquo;s side window with the giraffe, able to see the entire thing from a top-down perspective. The fighting was actually dying down. The armed men and women of the camp had organized themselves enough that that they began containing the escaped alien beasts. In the middle of all the rifle fire and shouting, Jacent Danger was skillfully taking out one enemy after another. Whether it was a gun-toting wannabe soldier or something from the deeper recesses of space, a well-placed leg sweep or bone-shattering thrust of a fist was enough to take them down. It was easy to spot him, as he&rsquo;d cleared out a wide circle around him. Sam pointed anyway, excitedly bouncing in Laila&rsquo;s lap.<br /><br />&ldquo;There! There he is!&rdquo; Sam squealed, quickly grabbing the edge of the open window and lifting her body to push more of her torso out the side. Laila&rsquo;s entire view was blocked by glossy pink bat. &ldquo;Max!&rdquo; Sam shouted back, &ldquo;Max?!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Hoy, chicaaaa!!&rdquo; Max shouted back.<br /><br />&ldquo;We need to pick up Jacent!&rdquo; Sam yelled back, &ldquo;Make noise and wave your arms or something as we swing by!&rdquo;<br /><br />Max thought for a moment about his response as he hopped up on top of the truck&rsquo;s cabin. He struck a pose then, legs spread and arms flexed. &ldquo;Super-Secret Mission: Get Attention is go!&rdquo; He declared, &ldquo;Fire when ready!&rdquo;<br /><br />~(_)~<br /><br />Without so much as a voiced grunt, Jacent Danger dispatched another in a long line of enemies by spin-kicking a leaping Crawler right out of mid-air just seconds before it could make contact with the back of his head. As the former Captain Comet, Jacent&rsquo;s experience with large-scale encounters rife with chaos such as then was notably lesser than one-on-one battles. Normally he had one target, one goal, one villain he could focus on with laser precision. The Spidress, Sabotaj&hellip; cat-burglars and assassins like that normally worked alone unless in a typical villain team-up grudge match. Large-scale encounters were often reserved for the Nhiloids and occasionally the animalistic underlings of Beastmaker.<br /><br />In a battle filled with post-splice humans and alien creatures, it was hard not to link back to the memories of thwarting the old Beastmaker, Dr. Leonard Chu. Thoughts of that bled off into how different things were&hellip; his relationship with animal-human hybrids and the Nhiloids had changed so drastically since then; it was hard to feel nostalgic. Jacent wouldn&rsquo;t be distracted from the fight though, his body working from muscle memory as he dodged, ducked, weaved, and disarmed his ninth gun-wielding opponent.<br /><br />&ldquo;The hell are you doing, Ink-lover?!&rdquo; Garrison&rsquo;s grizzled voice barked over the commotion, drawing Jacent&rsquo;s attention to the man. It seemed he&rsquo;d survived his encounter with the Bugape creature, albeit a little worse for wear. His shirt had been torn to tatters, various cuts bleeding into his fur where it once covered. His weapon&rsquo;s leather shoulder strap had been torn, but the weapon was not lost. His large chest heaved for breath, it sounded like he was wheezing. Jacent turned to face the bear directly, throwing away the weapon he&rsquo;d taken.<br /><br />&ldquo;You have to ask?&rdquo; Jacent answered, &ldquo;I was surprised when Locksmouth had its stash of weaponry during the invasion. It was my understanding that such things had been cast aside in favour of peace. For one, you are in direct violation of the laws and standards set by your own people; secondly, you&rsquo;ve done so to take up a campaign filled with bigotry and hate toward a people who could very well be seen as seeking refuge from the broken remains of their once tyrannical rule.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Refugees?!&rdquo; Garrison spat, &ldquo;Refugees don&rsquo;t live inside the bodies of the people they&rsquo;re getting protection with. They don&rsquo;t invade somewhere before asking for refuge. The things, these Inklings&hellip; they&rsquo;re bad news for humanity. They&rsquo;re dividing us, between inked and non-inked.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;The only thing dividing you, is you,&rdquo; Jacent responded, &ldquo;You are allowing your fear to get the better of you. These Inklings aren&rsquo;t unlike humans &ndash; they fear, they toil, just like everyone else. They have as much a right to a peaceful existence as we do.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;We? Ha! You&rsquo;re counting yourself among us now?&rdquo; Garrison laughed, &ldquo;You&rsquo;re a fossil, Danger!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Then I have something in common with your outdated way of thinking,&rdquo; Jacent&rsquo;s frown turned into a scowl, &ldquo;It would seem we haven&rsquo;t weeded out every ugly aspect of humanity, even now.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;If you ask me, you oughta be thrown out on your ass with the rest of those alien freaks,&rdquo; Garrison took up his weapon, the energy core within thrumming to life, &ldquo;We don&rsquo;t need throwbacks like you. You should&rsquo;ve stayed in the past where you belong. Mark my words, you and those aliens? The second you decide you&rsquo;re better than us, we&rsquo;re gonna wish we had more of these.&rdquo;<br /><br />The man slightly lifted his rife in a gesture.<br /><br />Jacent narrowed his eyes in study of the man, but something else caught his attention above him. He eased up, relaxing his posture and exiting his combat stance. &ldquo;I am no better than anyone,&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;In fact, compared to humanity today, I may be worse off. I will never take the kindness they have shown me for granted, and I will never turn on them.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Tch,&rdquo; Garrison growled, &ldquo;Where you go, trouble follows. That suits me just fine, I&rsquo;m equipped to handle it &ndash; but the rest of us? We&rsquo;re not all so lucky. Better we get rid of you now than regret it later.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Greater than you have tried,&rdquo; Jacent said.<br /><br />Jacent stepped aside, not back or forward to get ready to fight, but simply aside as if he were waiting for something. Garrison, confused, turned his weapon upon the young man and was ready to fire, but the humming of his rifle&rsquo;s core was swiftly drowned out by the rising sound of a fusion engine roaring in from the distance. Quickly, Garrison turned and looked skyward to see the brightened headlights of a truck bearing down at him at a tremendous speed. He barely was able to throw himself aside and out of the way of the truck&rsquo;s hood as it slammed into the ground with a metallic <strong>thunk</strong> and harshly evened out as the grav skiffs worked double-time to propel it back to its hover height. The vehicle swerved and raced toward Jacent, who had stepped back just far enough for the truck to pass. As it did, he leapt up onto it, taking hold of Max&rsquo;s extended hand to pull himself on. The sticky green inked reptile remained positioned atop the truck&rsquo;s cabin as if his feet were glued to it.<br /><br />Jacent pushed his feet against the side of the truck as it sped away, and quickly climbed up on top of the cabin with Max. The two dropped back into the flatbed with Daxton and hunkered down for the ride as Laila maneuvered the vehicle around various combatants. They were smart enough to get out of the way as the truck barreled through the camp at high speeds, smashing through several tents along the way. Laila caused as much damage as possible just short of running people and aliens down, and once free at the other side of the camp, she pulled up and soared into the air once again. Several trees suffered at their higher branches as the large truck broke through them with ease. Wood and leaves were sent flying everywhere.<br /><br />&ldquo;I thought you may have forgotten about me!&rdquo; Jacent grinned to Max as he shielded his face from the shower of autumn leaves.<br /><br />&ldquo;Nuh-uh, El Capitano!&rdquo; Max saluted, a leaf sticking momentarily to his eye, &ldquo;No man left behind!&rdquo;<br /><br />Jacent noticed Daxton then. The boy was holding tight to the side of the truck in an effort to not simply fall off. Daxton was staring&hellip; or at least Jacent thought he was. With that blue knit hat over his eyes, it was hard to tell just where Daxton was looking. Jacent addressed him, &ldquo;Maybe we should save the introductions for when we&rsquo;re safe!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Uh, yeah!&rdquo; Daxton nodded.<br /><br />Casey stared slack-jawed straight ahead, his decidedly pale features appearing more pale than normal. Samantha, too, looked rather frazzled for a blobby girl. Laila just cackled. &ldquo;Yeeeeehaw!&rdquo; The giraffe hollered, &ldquo;Now that&rsquo;s what I call sweepin&rsquo; &lsquo;em off their feet! Woo!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Y-Y-Y-Yes,&rdquo; Sam&rsquo;s teeth chattered, &ldquo;W-Well um, we should h-head to Clarkston now. Our friends were headed that way. W-We heard that your group was headed there.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Well that&rsquo;s a dandy coincidence, I reckon that&rsquo;s where Quincey and Kenny got washed up,&rdquo; Laila said, &ldquo;Well, ya&rsquo;ll best strap in then, we&rsquo;re headin&rsquo; to Clarkston!&rdquo;<br /><br />Casey and Sam frantically pulled their seatbelts on. They couldn&rsquo;t get them on fast enough for their liking.<br /><br />The truck suddenly dropped like a ton of bricks, Laila nose-diving the vehicle once again and almost sending Jacent soaring into the sky.<br /><br />&ldquo;WHOOOOAA!&rdquo;<br /><br />-<br />--<br />-<br /><br />Kenny awoke to the sound of something dragging through the dirt. He snapped his head up quickly to look around the darkened storehouse, shaking the sleep out of his head. &ldquo;Fuck,&rdquo; He grunted, blinking a few times as he noticed what little light there was catching off a collection of silver figures. &ldquo;Oh no&hellip;&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;Oh no, no&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny rose with his back against the wall, counting exactly four inked Quinceys shoving crates around the storehouse, clearing a path to the back. Working together, these Quincey clones could easily shove the weight of the crates, every one filled with stocked supplies and non-perishables to be used for the colder seasons. They worked in loose cooperation, only doubling up to move some of the heavier items when the need called for it. Otherwise they picked up, hauled, dragged, or shoved whatever they could on their own. Without a direct supervisor, they still seemed to know where they needed to be for what task. Kenny wasn&rsquo;t sure how long he was out for, but they were just pulling the last crate out from the back wall and pushing it aside to expose it.<br /><br />Kenny stepped quietly behind the silver, inky pigs to see that the back wall had been loosely boarded. Faint lights from the Locksmouth dome in the distance were peeking through the cracks, teasing their imminent freedom. Kenny watched and waited only a moment longer as they Quinceys silently studied the boards, pushing against them and listening to them creak and show some give. It was obvious that they intended to leave &ndash; which wasn&rsquo;t a terrible idea, really, but Kenny knew Duplex&rsquo;s intentions didn&rsquo;t align quite perfectly with its host&rsquo;s. Kenny stepped in.<br /><br />&ldquo;Wait!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t even think about it!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;We are leaving,&rdquo; One Quincey spoke, her voice slightly monotonous and dually rendered, &ldquo;Stay here if you must.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;You know what? Leaving is great, but we can&rsquo;t just leave Daxton and Laila out here with those guys,&rdquo; Kenny stepped closer, stopping only when all four of the silver pigs turned on him, their shine dancing with strange, prismatic colours when the light caught them, &ldquo;Quincey helped you, didn&rsquo;t she? We&rsquo;re almost there, we can go back for them and still make it just fine.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;No!&rdquo; The pigs angrily responded in unison, making Kenny flinch. Every inked Quincey was stronger than the original, Kenny knew that for sure. Quincey had some good arms on her, sure, but when she wasn&rsquo;t inked she had no hope of beating up him, Daxton and Laila all at once. Duplex had done that with ease back at Harbington, so Kenny was wary about angering the Inkling.<br /><br />&ldquo;We&hellip; do not have much time,&rdquo; One of the pigs said, &ldquo;We have to find Echelon soon.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny felt the need to plead their case, but he stopped when someone banged on the chained up storehouse doors. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s going on in there?!&rdquo; A villager barked, &ldquo;What are you two doing?!&rdquo;<br /><br />Duplex quietly turned back with its replicas to the boarded patch. Kenny turned to the door and cupped his hands around his mouth. &ldquo;Let us out!&rdquo; He shouted, &ldquo;You have to let us out right now! There&rsquo;s&hellip; there&rsquo;s five of us in here now!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Five of&hellip; what?&rdquo; The villager muttered in confusion, &ldquo;What are you up to in there?!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Please!&rdquo; Kenny yelled, &ldquo;You really need to open that door!&rdquo;<br /><br />Duplex made four mighty cries as the clones all rushed the back of the storehouse, slamming into the wooden boards and making them crack as the pile of silver pigs tumbled into it with their collective weight. They practically bounced back like rubber balls, flopping collectively onto the ground on their rears. Undeterred, they rose again to get a running start, readying themselves by raking their feet in the dirt, huffing like wild boars. Again they rushed and again they collided with the wall in a mass of silver bodies, splintering the wood further. Again they tumbled to the ground only to get up and try again.<br /><br />The commotion had certainly gotten the attention of the Clarkston villagers, who began to do&hellip; something outside. Kenny couldn&rsquo;t imagine what but he could hear a lot of voices outside through the walls. There was no hope that they would be able to unchain that door before Duplex and its three duplicates would charge through the boards in the back, and so Kenny was forced to watch. Two more charges and finally the wood gave way with a loud crack and the pigs all crumpled through the remaining opening, falling on top of one another in a heap. Kenny hurried to follow them out the back door, barely able to stick his head out. The four inked Quinceys were just outside, still in a pile, faced down by Joel, the mayor of Clarkston, and a number of other villagers.<br /><br />They stared at Duplex, eyes wide and breath taken. The way Duplex&rsquo;s blue eyes reflected the light, the unnatural shine over its body, the appearance of its drawn-on mouth&hellip; it looked like a monster. With the four duplicates so tightly pressed together it was difficult to make out where one body ended and the other began, their creases melting into one another to make it appear vaguely like a pile of silver meat, limbs, and little faces. Joel had come prepared; in his hand he held the sword Kenny had brought with him into the settlement, but he seemed too stunned to use it.<br /><br />For ages the silence dragged on, before Joel barely forced a raspy, fearful voice. &ldquo;Just&hellip; just what are you, demon?&rdquo; He asked.<br /><br />The four faces of Duplex stared the man down with an icy indifference. As if computing an appropriate response, it took a few deliberating seconds before all four spoke in unison. &ldquo;We are Legion, for we are many,&rdquo; Duplex said.<br /><br />Joel seemed to recoil. &ldquo;Good God,&rdquo; He gasped.<br /><br />&ldquo;Send us among the pigs!&rdquo; Duplex chorused, &ldquo;Let us to enter into them!&rdquo;<br /><br />Duplex&rsquo;s duplicates flopped off the pig-pile one after another. The villagers gasped and stepped warily back away, all except for Joel who stood frozen as each Quincey got to their feet. They stepped forward, causing a startled gasp to sound throughout the collected crowd and making them all almost trip over themselves to get away. They trembled in fear and uncertainty, holding their families and loved ones as they stared at Duplex with frightened eyes.<br /><br />&ldquo;You cannot stop us,&rdquo; Duplex shouted in time with its copies, &ldquo;Let us pass into Locksmouth!&rdquo;<br /><br />One step closer to the villagers and Joel drew the sharpened blade from its scabbard and pointed it threateningly at the inked girls. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you take one more step or I&rsquo;ll&hellip; I&rsquo;ll cut you!&rdquo; He shouted, &ldquo;Not one more step!&rdquo;<br /><br />Duplex took one collective step, every duplicate moving like a marching line daringly toward Joel. The man tensed, forcing his feet to remain planted. He stiffened his arm and brandished the weapon in his hand threateningly at the collection of inked pigs only a few feet away.<br /><br />For some time, Duplex stared at the man, its blank eyes seemingly peering straight through him into something else. No one knew what the inkling would do, the villagers and Kenny alike holding their breath for something to happen. It was clear in Joel&rsquo;s eyes that he was afraid. That was the sort of look that Duplex had become familiar with. Its first host had feared it no differently, and the man had become so irrational in his struggle that he crashed that lunch truck into Quincey&rsquo;s school. It was fortunate that things worked out that way in the end, but it was difficult to ignore just how confusing and erratic humans could be. They had become so fearful that their panic vaulted beyond necessity. It angered Duplex, that the humans would fear it so despite having no real reason to. The inkling wanted to do something, something&hellip; mean, something bad; something to give them a <em>reason</em> to be scared. It wanted to take out some aggression on those around it.<br /><br />But then it didn&rsquo;t just look like Quincey. The girl was strange, looked at as different by many of her peers, and she wouldn&rsquo;t have acted that way. Conflict filled Duplex&rsquo;s mind, thoughts it wouldn&rsquo;t have considered trickled in for a brief moment. It felt somewhat euphoric. For the first time in as long as it could remember, it wasn&rsquo;t simply alone. It had bonded with its host, for better or for worse. For every reason it could think to lash out at these villagers, Quincey could think of a reason not to. The human race was capable; that much was certain, as it still stood in Osoth&rsquo;s passing. It was largely the Empress herself to be blamed for these things. Humanity had acted no differently than any race conquered before it. This was simply the first time any Inkling got to see it after the fact.<br /><br />Duplex took a deep breath &ndash; just one of the four of it. At the apex of this breath, something caught. That blissful feeling of connection shattered, crumbling away. It simply broke apart and fell away. Three of the Duplex clones collapsed, uniformly becoming their gooey construct and splashing on the ground like water dumped from buckets. Duplex cried out in alarm, something rocking its body and causing it to jerk. It reached out, much to the alarm of all the spectators, fingertips mere millimeters away from Joel&rsquo;s blade as its inky skin started to fall away. In thick, heavy globs it slopped off, exposing the paled skin of the pig girl beneath it. The Inkling couldn&rsquo;t stay standing. It fell to the ground as dead weight, parts of its form splattering off Quincey&rsquo;s body in patches.<br /><br />&ldquo;Quincey?!&rdquo; Kenny cried as he hurried out of the storehouse and to Quincey&rsquo;s side. The girl was not well. She breathed hoarsely, dryly, and her skin was cold and lacking in colour. Her body trembled and she tried desperately to curl into a little ball as Duplex&rsquo;s silvery skin receded into her body in swift desperation. The Inkling had pushed too hard, bringing both itself and its host to a breaking point. Prana had been given and exhausted. There was almost none left.<br /><br />&ldquo;Quincey!&rdquo; Kenny shook the girl, who seemed unconscious and appeared strangely gaunt for being so rotund.<br /><br />The people of Clarkston were speechless for a time. Joel stared in horror at the scene unfolding at the end of the blade he brandished. The steel seemed to cut the way, pointed toward a goal, creating a road for his mind to follow. At the end of that was a pig and a lemming, children, tortured by an unnatural monstrosity.<br /><br />It had to stop there.<br /><br />&ldquo;Move,&rdquo; Joel croaked.<br /><br />Kenny looked up quickly at the man as he approached, and he snatched Quincey up in his arms, hauling her body up against him protectively.<br /><br />&ldquo;Get out of the way,&rdquo; The mayor uttered, &ldquo;Get away from that thing.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny grit his teeth. &ldquo;Stay away from her,&rdquo; He growled, &ldquo;Get away from her!&rdquo;<br /><br />Joel stopped just before Kenny, and the boy looked way up at him from his place on the ground. &ldquo;Whatever you think that is, it&rsquo;s not your friend,&rdquo; Joel said, his grip tightening on the sword, &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to let me put it out. I&rsquo;ll do it so that everyone&rsquo;s safe.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny&rsquo;s ears pricked up. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; He exclaimed, trying to hold Quincey closer to him, &ldquo;No!&rdquo;<br /><br />Tears welled up in the boys eyes. He tried to blink them away, but they returned. His breathing picked up to an angry panting, sucking in air through his grit teeth. He was all at once afraid and angered beyond the capacity for rational thought.<br /><br />&ldquo;You try it and I&rsquo;ll fucking kill you!&rdquo; The boy screamed at Joel, &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t let you take her from me!&rdquo;<br /><br />Joel made one, tiny motion. It was unclear whether that movement was toward or away from his intended goal, as he wasn&rsquo;t given more than a severed second before Kenny was up off the ground and tackling the man. They fell onto the ground, Joel on his back and the smaller, red-faced, tear-soaked rodent boy straddling his body. The mayor&rsquo;s face was assaulted by little fists, ones that came crashing down like thunder in animalistic rage. Kenny screamed, bashing the man&rsquo;s face with his knuckles over and over again. The other villagers made a move to help their mayor, but when Joel raised his sword they froze, unsure of what might happen if he brought it down again.<br /><br />He didn&rsquo;t get the chance to. Kenny&rsquo;s other hand grabbed the sharpened metal, the handcuffs hanging off his wrist clashing with the handle of the weapon. The blade cut into the skin of his palm, blood quickly trickling down the polished surface to the hilt. His other fist continued to bear down across the man&rsquo;s face time and again, kneading and softening the skin beneath his fur, damaging tissue, leaving marks and bloodying his nose. At some point, Joel stopped moving. Kenny didn&rsquo;t care. Blow after blow after blow came down on that man like the fury of the heavens.<br /><br />&ldquo;Fuck you fuck you fuck you!!!&rdquo; Kenny screamed at the top of his lungs.<br /><br />The people of Clarkston weren&rsquo;t fighters. They were frightened, in fact, by the display they were witnessing. The most they could do was plead with Kenny to make him stop, as no one dared join the morbid spectacle in fear of being harmed themselves.<br /><br />Kenny drew back his bloody knuckles for another punch, but felt the neck of his loose shirt suddenly get pulled around his throat. He coughed as he was hoisted, his legs turning to jelly as all his rage and anger rushed out of him. He was lifted and swung around by a strong hand, coming face to face with a white-furred feline girl with powder blue corkscrew pigtails. He blinked dumbly at her angry expression, and before he could say or do anything he had the air forced out of his lungs by one decisive strike to his stomach. He was then dropped on the ground. His legs failed to support him and he found himself lying face-down in the dirt.<br /><br />Carrie Oakenfield turned to the crowd of bewildered spectators, her curly, powder-blue locks bouncing along with her pleated skirt. &ldquo;Next person to lift a finger is picking their teeth up off the ground!&rdquo; She shouted. The small crowd was all too compliant and kept their distance.<br /><br />From around the corner of the storehouse stepped another Inkling creature, this one looking to be dark, but somehow shining a glossy pink. Somewhere between latex, a neon sign, and a chalk drawing, the Inkling canine stepped with purpose toward Quincey&rsquo;s unconscious body. She was followed by a young ferret boy with curly red hair and glasses. It was an odd group &ndash; Carrie was dressed somewhat traditionally, in long socks, a skirt, and an actual shirt, while the ferret had on the sleek, clingy clothes of a Dome citizen. Then of course there was the Inkling, who appeared to be somehow clothed, or at least had lines drawn onto its form to resemble a one-piece leotard with a skull depicted on her chest.<br /><br />&ldquo;Is she alright?&rdquo; The boy asked as the Inkling knelt by Quincey.<br /><br />&ldquo;Prana exhaustion, I&rsquo;d say,&rdquo; The Inkling said. She settled on her knees and rolled Quincey onto her back. The odd creature leaned over the girl and placed her hands on either side of the pig&rsquo;s head. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s going to be all right,&rdquo; The Inkling spoke in its strange, dual tones. It then closed its eyes and began to concentrate.<br /><br />Whatever the Inkling did, it calmed Quincey&rsquo;s trembling body. It didn&rsquo;t appear as if anything had even happened, but the Inkling sat back after a few moments and opened its eyes again with a look of accomplishment. &ldquo;She matches the description the detective gave us. This is our girl,&rdquo; It spoke again.<br /><br />Kenny had been nursing his wounds, barely hearing or seeing what was happening with his packmate and friend. All he knew was that someone was trying to get their hands on her again, and that was all he needed to know. He threw himself at the dropped sword at Joel&rsquo;s side and snatched it up in both his hands, bloodying the handle more as he forced himself to sit up. He pointed the blade outward at Carrie, his gaze frantically sizing up each of the new arrivals to the scene. &ldquo;Who are you people?!&rdquo; He coughed, &ldquo;Get away from her!&rdquo;<br /><br />Carrie rested her hands on her hips and shifted her weight from one of her legs to the other. The look she gave Kenny was clearly unimpressed. &ldquo;Yeah, buddy? I&rsquo;m gonna have to ask you not to point that thing at people. You could hurt yourself&hellip; or get hurt,&rdquo; She said pointedly, &ldquo;<em>Especially</em> if you tear up my blouse.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny pushed himself to his feet, but Carrie simply reached out and pushed on his forehead with a finger. He toppled back down onto the ground, dropping his weapon.<br /><br />&ldquo;We heard your friend was looking for Echelon,&rdquo; Carrie said, turning to look at the Inkling who was tending to Quincey. &ldquo;Well, we got tired of waiting,&rdquo; She finished.<br /><br />Kenny pushed himself to sit up again, groaning in pain. The way his hand felt when he moved it, like his skin was folding on itself&hellip; he just then came to realize that his hand was deeply cut open. He quickly lifted it onto his lap and did his best to wrap his shirt around it. &ldquo;You&hellip; You guys are...?&rdquo; He couldn&rsquo;t find the words he was looking for.<br /><br />&ldquo;Yep, Echelon&rsquo;s crew!&rdquo; Carrie announced, giving a big grin and a thumbs up. She then turned to the crowd, who had at that point dragged Joel&rsquo;s unconscious body away. &ldquo;And I&rsquo;m sure you guys won&rsquo;t mind,&rdquo; She declared, &ldquo;But we&rsquo;re taking the girl with us! If any of you monkeys have a problem with that? Well&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />Before she could finish, the ferret boy pushed in beside her and raised his hands to cover her mouth. &ldquo;Your concerns will be noted and taken into consideration!&rdquo; He said, &ldquo;Thanks!&rdquo;<br /><br />Carrie shoved the smaller boy away from her and wiped her mouth with her arm. Standing up, the Inkling looked Carrie&rsquo;s way and beckoned her. &ldquo;We should leave,&rdquo; It said, &ldquo;Carrie, can you&hellip;?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Lift her?&rdquo; Carrie finished the thought. She approached and studied Quincey, canting her head aside somewhat with a smile of surrender. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s&hellip; bigger than I was expecting, but yeah I guess I could,&rdquo; She said, &ldquo;Help me load her up.&rdquo;<br /><br />While they did that, the ferret boy stepped in and held out his hand to help Kenny up. Kenny just blinked at the other boy, as he kept his one hand wrapped tightly in his shirt and used his only other free hand to keep the fabric pulled tight. Instead of accepting the help, Kenny struggled to stand up without the use of his arms.<br /><br />&ldquo;You&rsquo;re hurt,&rdquo; The ferret pointed out, frowning, &ldquo;Is it bad?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;I&rsquo;m&hellip; I&rsquo;m okay,&rdquo; Kenny spoke in a daze. His subsiding rage brought him back to a confusing reality that he needed to catch up to. Unwrapping his hand, he looked at the deep cut along his palm and sliced somewhat into the lower ends of his fingers on an angle. Blood flowed generously, dripping off of Kenny&rsquo;s wrist. It hurt a little, but not so much to be excessively distracting. His arm just felt cold, and not just because his blood cooled rapidly in the autumn night air. The other boy was disgusted by the sight and quickly turned away.<br /><br />The Inkling approached Kenny next. &ldquo;Hello,&rdquo; It said, flashing him as comforting a smile as she could, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m Echelon, and you are&hellip;?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;K&hellip; Kenny,&rdquo; Kenny stepped back from Echelon, holding his injured hand.<br /><br />Echelon&rsquo;s pink, drawn-on eyes fixated on the injury. &ldquo;Kenny, can I help you with that?&rdquo; She asked, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s within my capabilities to heal you. Would you be okay if I did?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Uh&hellip;&rdquo; Kenny was apprehensive. Noticing this, Echelon calmly receded into its host&rsquo;s body. The dark, pink-glossed &lsquo;skin&rsquo; of the Inkling faded away into black fur, brunette hair, and eventually exposed the ruby red eyes and wolfish form of Natalie Grayswift. Kenny warily looked her up and down as she stood before him in the same get-up that Echelon had been wearing, except the colours were a little different. The skull printed on the chest of the one-piece was still pink, but the fabric that clung to her bottom-heavy frame was white instead of black.<br /><br />&ldquo;And I&rsquo;m Natalie, Echelon&rsquo;s host,&rdquo; The wolf girl said.<br /><br />&ldquo;&hellip; You were on the news, yeah,&rdquo; Kenny looked the girl in the eye.<br /><br />&ldquo;Would you let me take a look at that cut now so we can get out of here?&rdquo; Natalie asked.<br /><br />Carrie had finally stood with a grunt with Quincey on her back. She hefted the unconscious girl up, leaning forward to bear most of her weight down on her, with Quincey&rsquo;s arms hanging over her shoulders. &ldquo;Ngh! There,&rdquo; Carrie breathed, &ldquo;Wow, I&rsquo;m sorry but this girl is heavy, even for me! How far was it to Sam&rsquo;s car again, Erwin?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not that far,&rdquo; The ferret boy, Erwin, said, &ldquo;We left it just under the delivery route.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny looked up into the sky, just barely able to see a number of red lights spread out and dotting the sky in an arch that stretched a great distance; from Locksmouth to Harbington, in fact. Long-distance transit worked that route, delivering goods, supplies, and travelers between the Domes. While there weren&rsquo;t any hard and heavy rules to stay on the route, it was the shortest way from point A to point B and usually only took an hour of travel at high speeds. The route really wasn&rsquo;t that far, but it seemed further away from down on the ground.<br /><br />&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; Natalie caught Kenny&rsquo;s attention again and waited expectedly for an answer.<br /><br />&ldquo;What&rsquo;re you going to do?&rdquo; Kenny asked.<br /><br />Natalie held out her hand and said, &ldquo;Just give me your hand, I promise it won&rsquo;t be anything bad.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny reluctantly held out his hand. Even the gathered villagers watched from their safe distance in keen interest as Natalie gently took hold of Kenny&rsquo;s hand and turned his palm downward. She lifted his hand up and placed her lips on the back of his wrist in a gentle kiss. Kenny&rsquo;s eyes bulged wide in surprise and he instinctively tried to withdraw his hand as a flush of embarrassment spread across his face. Natalie held tight, keeping him there just a few moments longer before he was able to tear his hand away.<br /><br />&ldquo;W-What the heck are you doing?!&rdquo; Kenny squeaked.<br /><br />&ldquo;It should be good now,&rdquo; Natalie smiled apologetically, &ldquo;Look.&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny turned his palm up to see that while his hand was still covered in fresh blood, the wound itself wasn&rsquo;t seeping crimson into his fur anymore. It had healed over just enough to stanch the wound, but not enough for it to disappear entirely. His expression changed from embarrassment to wonder, but did still keep an echo of bashfulness.<br /><br />&ldquo;I guess if you&rsquo;ve been hanging around your friend, you probably know that Inklings have special powers,&rdquo; Natalie explained, &ldquo;My healing isn&rsquo;t as good as my friend Sam&rsquo;s, but it&rsquo;ll do. So, are you ready to get out of here?&rdquo;<br /><br />Kenny stared at the girl, still uncertain even in light of her actions. His gaze fell to his palm again, and he flexed his fingers, rolling them into a fist and out again. He really did feel better.<br /><br />&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the good guys, right?&rdquo; Kenny asked.<br /><br />Natalie kind of laughed, but smiled. &ldquo;Yeah,&rdquo; She said, &ldquo;We&rsquo;re the good guys.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Can we hurry this up?&rdquo; Carrie asked, annoyed, &ldquo;I may be strong but seriously, this girl&hellip; her butt is almost as big as yours, sweet-cheeks. She&rsquo;s not light!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;You better not be squeezing her,&rdquo; Natalie tossed a look to her girlfriend over her shoulder.<br /><br />The cat smirked and hefted Quincey&rsquo;s unconscious body again, and then turned toward the woods. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s gooooo alreeeeadyyy!&rdquo; She shouted in vague sing-song.<br /><br />&ldquo;Come on,&rdquo; Natalie said to Kenny, &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll answer any questions you&rsquo;ve got, but we should really get out of here.&rdquo; For a moment she turned her attention to the frightened Naturalists who huddled around their leader. Children stared at her in fright and adults leered in distaste. She frowned for a moment, turning away before any of them had a chance to address her. She started her pink-sneakered march toward the forest, following Carrie the strong cat and shadowed by the lanky Erwin. Kenny was struck for a moment as he watched them leave so confidently. He turned, gathered up the dropped sword and scabbard that had been taken from him, and then scrambled to catch up.<br /><br />Even his bruises didn&rsquo;t feel that bad any more, he noticed. It made the walk behind the group easier and allowed him the silence for thought without the distraction of pain. He looked back at Clarkston&rsquo;s old buildings and penned animals only once as they departed, his mind racing to try and figure out what would have happened if Carrie hadn&rsquo;t come in and rightly knocked him down. Had she just stopped him from doing something he would have regret? He let his attention fall to his steps, watching his feet mostly in the scant light as he stepped through the thick brush. When he did lift his head, he looked to Quincey. Before she had seemed so distressed, but by that time she was comfortably asleep on Carrie&rsquo;s back.<br /><br />It was hard to say for sure just who he was dealing with, but if they helped Quincey that would be enough for him for the time being.<br /><br />-<br />--<br />-<br /><br />It was a long walk to the delivery route. It wasn&rsquo;t exactly placed with ground-travel in mind &ndash; in fact, very few things were. Still, the stretch of forest from Locksmouth to Clarkston had the benefit of being peeled away in places, baring strips of clearing that weaved toward the heavier, thicker woodland area. When they were approximately right underneath the marked route, they had come into a clearing where a sleek, jet-black Croix Profil PeTra had been parked. What they hadn&rsquo;t expected to see was a more rugged-looking truck, its make and model looking almost ancient with its bulky standard, settled nearby. What they expected even less was the familiar faces of their friends manning it.<br /><br />&ldquo;Hey!&rdquo; Carrie waved her hand as she appeared in the clearing.<br /><br />&ldquo;Oh thank heavens you&rsquo;re here!&rdquo; Sam hurried toward her packmates as they emerged from the forest. Despite wearing a long, self-heated coat and a scarf, the blonde, coifed, white-furred bat wrapped her arms around herself for dramatic effect. &ldquo;We have had the most <em>dreadful</em> experience! Did you find her?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Right here,&rdquo; Carrie turned her head toward the pudgy face of Quincey resting on her shoulder, &ldquo;Her Inkling pushed too hard, they almost burned out.&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton&rsquo;s feet couldn&rsquo;t carry him fast enough as he leapt from the back of the truck and ran with heavy footfalls through the dirt. He slid to a stop as he reached Carrie, but his attention as entirely on Quincey. &ldquo;Is she okay?!&rdquo; He asked excitedly, &ldquo;What happened? Is she gonna be alright?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;She&rsquo;ll be fine,&rdquo; Natalie stepped up next to Carrie, &ldquo;Are you part of her pack?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;I&rsquo;m her <em>boyfriend</em>,&rdquo; Daxton said, his face flushing as he did. His hands were reached out but he felt hesitant to place them on Quincey. He wanted so desperately to check up on her, but felt too worked up to do so. &ldquo;Quincey?&rdquo; He spoke to the unconscious pig.<br /><br />Laila and the others had piled out of the truck to gather around their friends. &ldquo;She looks plum tuckered,&rdquo; The giraffe frowned.<br /><br />&ldquo;Those maniacs at Clarkston locked us up,&rdquo; Kenny said.<br /><br />&ldquo;Did they?&rdquo; Spoke Jacent as he wrapped one arm around Sam, who had huddled against him for warmth she didn&rsquo;t need, &ldquo;Because of the Inkling?&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Yeah because of the Inkling,&rdquo; Kenny explained exasperatedly, &ldquo;And then Duplex, the idiot, decides to bust out through the back wall and then falls apart right in front of a guy threatening it.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;<em>That&rsquo;s</em> what happened?&rdquo; Erwin chimed in, &ldquo;I&hellip; guess it shouldn&rsquo;t be too surprising that Naturalists would do something like that. They don&rsquo;t like <em>regular</em> dome citizens, let alone ones bonded with Inklings. I&rsquo;m more surprised they knew about it, honestly.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;And one of you is Echelon, right?&rdquo; Daxton asked.<br /><br />Natalie raised her hand and said, &ldquo;That would be me.&rdquo;<br /><br />Daxton took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head. &ldquo;I hope finding you is worth all this trouble&hellip;&rdquo; He said.<br /><br />&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve been through a lot,&rdquo; Laila added, &ldquo;But we&rsquo;re almost home free. I reckon it&rsquo;ll be worth it one way or another.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ll see once we get your friend&hellip; Quincey was it?&rdquo; Natalie blinked at the passed out pig, &ldquo;When we get her to Locksmouth. That Inkling&rsquo;s going to have some explaining to do.&rdquo;</span>",
  "pools_count": 1,
  "title": "Issue 11: Convergence",
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  "public": "t",
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  "pagecount": "1",
  "rating_id": "2",
  "rating_name": "Adult",
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      "name": "Sexual Themes",
      "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal",
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      "content_tag_id": "5",
      "name": "Strong Violence",
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  ],
  "submission_type_id": "12",
  "type_name": "Writing - Document",
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  "comments_count": "1",
  "views": "179"
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