~- How to Save a Life -~
The classroom was quiet for the most part, just the soft scratch of pencils and pens against paper and the occasional hushed conversation. Professor Banner sat at his desk, the soft click of keys and his fingers sliding against the mouse pad the only sounds that he made as he checked over homework. He enjoyed teaching, and this creative writing class was one in particular that he enjoyed immensely. Many of these students were very serious about their writing, and though it was a hard field to break into and maintain any sort of long term career in, Banner was certain that he had at least one or two in this class that had the talent and promise to become a long term author, personal attachment not withstanding.
The quiet of the room was broken by a loud screeching as someone suddenly pushed them self violently away from their desk. Banner and several of the other students looked up just in time to see Cyrus' tall form pause at the door to the classroom, his backpack slung over his shoulder as he shoved the door open before hastily leaving the room. A few whispers rose among the remaining students, but they quieted quickly as Banner called, "That's enough now. Class lets out in thirty-five minutes; I expect these prompts to be finished by then."
Banner wanted to go after Cyrus, but he couldn't leave the classroom at the moment. Besides, he knew where the boy had gone, and Banner knew that it was just that Cyrus needed a moment by himself.
He's so much like you that it's almost painful to think about, Zane, Banner thought, lowering his eyes once again to his computer screen. It was open to his grade book, and he found his eyes drawn to the bottom of the page to Cyrus' name once more. He needed to enter the grades in, Banner knew that much; however, he was fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to at the current time. Instead, he minimized the window, his desktop showing a background of five people. Banner had his left arm slung around his wife's waist, his right arm across the shoulder's of the man beside him that looked like an older version of Cyrus. This man, Zane, held a petite brunette at his side, his free hand resting on the shoulder of a boy that couldn't have been anymore than eight or nine. Banner's eyes traveled from the boy, Cyrus, to the man, Zane, both of them wearing matching grins of mischief and pure joy. This had been one of the last pictures that any of them had gotten with Zane, just six weeks before it happened.
Had it really been ten years already?
Almost an hour later, Banner had collected his things and what remained of Cyrus' from the classroom, taking himself and the papers to his office. Opening the door, Banner found Cyrus sitting in the chair in front of his desk, a mug of tea in his hands and the scent of saffron and passion flower in the air. Banner didn't say anything, and neither did Cyrus as the professor walked around to his chair, placing Cyrus' notebook on the desk before taking a seat behind it.
It was quiet for a few more minutes as Cyrus drank his tea, and Banner's eyes moved to the teapot on top of the filing cabinet. Finally, his attention was drawn back as Cy said, "Sorry about that, sir. It's just... I just..."
"It's quite alright, Cyrus. You don't have to explain yourself to me; I understand," Banner said gently. He enjoyed having Cyrus in his class; there were times that it almost felt like having Zane back, the similarities were so striking. At the same time, the resemblance was
too much so, and it was these moments that hurt Banner, having to watch Cyrus go through the same struggles that Zane had. It was true that it had been ten years, but with just how much Cyrus had grown to resemble his father, it was almost as if the loss had happened just days before, making it difficult for all involved to move on and heal.
Cyrus set the mug down, shaking his sleeve down where it had hiked up his wrist, revealing the stain of words that always covered his skin. Noting the charcoal that was still under his nails, Banner said, "So, Juliet got you to take that art class after all? How are those drawings coming?"
"They'd be going better if I didn't have to rearrange the positions as often," Cyrus grumbled, before a smile and a laugh broke across his face. Just like that, the panic that had pulled him out of the classroom in such a frenzy subsided, and Banner and Cyrus just sat there in his office, talking, for the next twenty minutes.
After a short time, Banner climbed to his feet, saying to Cyrus, "There's meeting that I have to attend in a short while, and I believe that you need to pick up Juliet from her music lesson and take her home? Tell your mother that I miss her company; if you would both like, Annie's making pot roast in a few nights. Maybe you and your mother would come over for a visit?"
"I think she'd like that a lot, Uncle Banner," Cyrus said. He had his head turned down, placing the notebook into his backpack, so he missed the pain that cut across Banner's face; how long had it been since Cyrus had called him that? Straightening again, Cyrus said, "I'll let her know, and I'll see you later. Have a good afternoon!"
Banner had seen what Cyrus had written for the day, and he was fairly certain that it was what had driven the young man from the classroom in such a panic earlier. Cyrus was more than a student to Banner; the boy was the son of his oldest friend. He was protective of him.
Zane, he's so much like you. You'd be proud of his strength. But Zane, please...
Let him be spared from your fate.
~- Where Do We Go? -~
Diana was bone tired when she got home that night. She leaned against the door, letting her weight shut it behind her as she released a sight that was a tangled mess of frustration, disappointment, and exhaustion. She knew it was going to be rough, but she hadn't expected it to border on near impossible, not like this. Honestly, if it wasn't for Tish and Aqua...
"Another no, huh?"
"Speak of the devil," Diana muttered to herself softly, before lifting her face to meet Aqua's scrutiny. The two young women watched each other for a moment, Aqua trying to ferret out just how out of sorts Diana was while Diana worked just as hard to keep the full truth from her. Aqua won out in the end, reaching out a hand to Diana as she said, "You're skipping class tonight, girl. Hand over the case and get to bed."
A fit of contrariness seized Diana, causing her fingers to tighten around the handle of her violin case as she said, "Honestly, Aqua, I've got this. I can deal with a little rejection..."
"Mattie," Aqua spoke sharply, causing Diana to release an irritated hiss. She hated her first name, Matilda, and any derivative of it; it's why she insisted on people addressing her by her middle name. It was also why Aqua had called her Mattie; it was supposed to get her point across. Green eyes met blue, as Aqua said again, "No one can fault you, girl. Anyone that's been watching can see that you've been working your ass off for years, and you've done a damn fine job of balancing four different responsibilities. I think you've earned a night off, girl. Trust me, a good night's sleep, maybe a couple of shifts that don't have you up at the crack of dawn, and you should be able to land the gig you're looking for."
"Mana?"
A third voice, the voice of a young boy, got between the two of them, distracting Aqua and Diana from what was really an old argument that they'd had in some variation over the last five years. The two friends turned, and Diana said softly, "What're you doing up, Ollie? You should be asleep already."
Ollie rubbed at his eyes, giving his sister a look as he said, "You promised you'd tell me a story when you got home, Mana, so I was waiting for you."
Diana hated her first name and any nickname that could be gotten from it, but she made an exception for Ollie. Handing the violin case at last to Aqua, Diana went up to Ollie, ruffling his hair a little as she said, "Okay, one story, and then you need to get to sleep. I don't want you doing this again, okay?"
He was getting really big, but Diana still swung him up in a hug, and his arms found their way around her neck as she carried him back up to his room. He wasn't going to get his story, however. Because just as she got him back into bed, a storybook in her hand as she climbed up next to him, that's when the Particle Accelerator exploded, causing Diana, Ollie, and Aqua to all fall into that strange sleep.
~- Immortals -~
"Tell me again, how'd you convince your parents to head out for the evening? Given the way James is feeling, I'm surprised they went for it."
It was a typical night for Cyrus and Juliet. She was on the couch, picking out an aimless medley of scales on her guitar, while Cyrus was sitting on the floor, book in hand and his back resting against the couch cushions. He was supposed to be working on a homework assignment for Banner, but Cy was still a little unsettled from what had happened earlier. He didn't even know
why it had happened; the words had been coming even easier than they usually did, and he'd been almost finished when most of his classmates had been reaching the halfway point. Then, something had resonated strangely in his mind with his writing, causing the room to be far too crowded.
Bare your sins to the moonlight
"Why are you up? You should be resting!"
Cy was a little surprised by her response, until he looked up and realized that James had entered the living room. A short conversation followed, as well as instructions for Cyrus to get ice cream while Jule ushered James back to his room. Cyrus came into the room to hear Juliet reading to James from one of the mythology books, a story involving the twins Artemis and Apollo, goddess of the moon and god of the sun, and Hermes, god of travel and thieves. When Cyrus came in, James interrupted Juliet by saying, "Ice cream! Hey, can read me what you wrote in class today? I wanna hear it; please Cy?"
Cyrus let out a surprised laugh as Juliet shut her book, her own laugh joining his. Giving the bowl of ice cream to James, Cy said, "I'm afraid I didn't finish it yet, James; sorry!"
A disappointed look crossed his face, but James still said, "Then can you tell us what it was about? That's almost as good!"
"Well, we were supposed to imagine that we had superpowers, and then describe what they were and how we got them. We were also allowed to have a team of heroes, as long as we described their powers too; also, code names!" Cyrus realized how lame it sounded as he said it, and he couldn't help but wonder why it had upset him so much earlier.
James though, seemed hooked on the idea. "What did you decide on?"
"Well, I didn't want powers that had been overdone too much, so I chose the ability to manipulate moonlight," Cyrus said. He then went on to describe other members of the team, saying that he'd given Juliet solar manipulation and James wind bending and enhanced speed, as well as a few other characters. But when he got to the part about
how they got their powers, James cracked up, stopping Cy dead in his tracks.
"An explosion? Really? The powers are cool, but the way we got them is, like, every superhero origin ever!" James kept laughing until he started coughing, tears leaking from his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.
Cyrus sat there for a little, his dignity bruised as the Bardán siblings than began talking about the Particle Accelerator unveiling that night. Before Cy could get himself back together enough to defend his writing, however good-natured James' comment had been, a boom and a rumble shook the room, causing all three of them to go wide-eyed and silent.
"What the hell?!" Cyrus asked, half rising to his feet. It was all any of them would get out, however; moments later, all three of them were out cold.
~- Unravel -~
Crime: Daring to assume a gift for dancing; hoping to become a professional dancer; having talent for the violin; being happy; feeling loved; existing
The young woman wrapped her arms around her knees, curling herself into a tight ball as she sat on the floor of her apartment. The window was flung wide open, a gentle breeze ruffling the curtain as moonlight poured into the room, staining a large swath of the carpet and floor with the soft, distilled light. However, she'd found a shadowed corner, one that wouldn't allow the light to touch her, just the papers that were fanned and scattered around her; the moonlight shown on these papers, highlighting words such as 'regrowth', 'inoperable', 'resisting treatment', and 'metastasized'. They were stains of black ink against stark white paper, but the words and their meaning pierced more deeply than even the worst of the headaches that were her constant companion; the words sitting on a sharp edge, hinting at a more dangerous weapon to the body than even the small knife the moonlight revealed in her grip. For the moment, the blade was held in a loose grip in her left hand as the fingers of her right dug into the seem between the calf and knee of her left leg.
Sentence: Execution, to be carried out by the prisoner's own body as the prisoner's cells turn against themselves in a war of self-destruction.
Her fingers released the seam, a battle scar of an earlier war, searching out her phone at her side. She knew, her resolve was strong, and she'd never move on this. However, there was one thing she needed to do. She hadn't seen him in five years, but she'd heard his voice, whenever she'd stolen a moment by calling his phone. She couldn't talk to him, but hearing his voice on the recording was always a soothing experience, and it was one thing she wanted to experience one final time, so she hit the send button, holding her breath as the phone rang... rang... rang...
Hey, sorry I missed you're call. If you can leave a message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Tiny Dancer, if it's you, please... just come home...
It was all she needed. Ending the call, she sighed, leaning her head against the wall as she clutched the phone close against her chest. Pain pulsed behind her eyes, spreading in an arc around the back of her head, the two daggers meeting at the top of her neck before merging and knifing their way straight to the core of her brain. She was tired, so, so
tired...
Date of Execution: Eight to twelve weeks; exact time still to be decided
Her grip tightened on the knife in her hand as she raised her right arm, bringing the point of the blade to rest over her left forearm. She studied it for a moment, the skin pale and smooth in the shadows and bare gleam of moonlight. She traced the veins with her eyes for a moment, waiting out a pulsing pain that wrapped her head in white-hot oblivion. She breathed as shallowly as she could, waiting the wave out, until as last she crested over the pain. Gently, she brought the knife down, tracing the path from her wrist to her elbow lightly, testing the track the blade would take. Satisfied, she brought the blade away from her skin, moving the knife back to its starting point, she took a final breath, ready to make the blade's journey in one quick, clean cut. She would be her own executioner, the time of her end her own choosing.
A deep boom, more felt than heard, rumbled through the floor, distracting her. She turned her head to the window, the one that faced the direction of the distant S.T.A.R. labs. A rumble followed shortly after, causing the knife to slip from fingers numbed with surprise; the blade dropped to the floor, its deadly mission forgotten as, just moments later, the young woman that had held it just moments before slipped into a black nothingness as conscious thought slipped away from her. Even so, she held one thought in her mind, a thought that with all her strength she would try to will into reality.
Please stay asleep. Please, just slip from this world in sleep, never to wake again...
~- The Future is Now -~
"Who are you?"
The aftershocks of the explosion of the Particle Accelerator washed through the community, knocking individuals out one after the other in a radius that expanded up to fifty miles outside the city limits. This wasn't something that could be seen, but it was a fact that could be sensed by the sole figure that wasn't sent under by the energy of the explosion. He was old, far older than any had a right to be, and he was learned in the way of ancient magics and beliefs, an education that his mother had given him when he had still been a small child, and she the most revered Healer and Wisewoman of not only their small village, but of the neighboring villages and tribes as well. She had protected him from the judgment and superstitions of the villagers until he had been able to prove himself, in a time when they saw only the darkest of spirits in him for how pale his skin was, a sign that his father was not one of the men of the village, but one of the white men, an English settler.
That had been long ago, and he had left Australia and his people, even the name of his birth behind him, for they could not go where he needed to venture. However, the teachings stayed with him, his mother's teachings and his own abilities keeping him from being pulled under into the black sleep of change. Instead, he listened; searching, for what the modern day prophetess had said that he would hear.
Listen for the Oracle.
The Oracle?
Yes; for the Oracle will give voice to their cries, and it is these cries that you must follow.
He listened now, both to the sounds of the night, and to that which could not be heard on the night winds. It was difficult to explain, this hearing, even to himself. It was a hearing without sound, one that heard the voices given off by life forces and spirit energies.
Bare your sins to the moonlight
Power as a crown of thorns
Kneel before the Lord of the Skies
The warrior unleashed
Uncertain as an ocean tempest
Behold the Devourer of Souls
He Who Walks in Sorrows
Fire and iron, forged to steel
He opened his eyes, an unknown light shining deep within them. There were other cries to be heard, he knew; if they were to be examined, each and all who had received powers that night would have a cry that resonated within their souls that could be heard by those who cared to listen. But it was that final cry that he sought out, for the prophetess' final words.
Seek out the Miracle known as Hephaestus. Fire and iron, forged to steel. Seek out Hephaestus, because he will be the key to ending this. He will lift the curse of your immortality.