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Something that would prove to help those of you who need it, and something that won't force you into helping with the works of others.

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So....this is my plan for the story.

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                                              Break Away 

My parents were at it again. One was drunk, the other pissed. I'll leave that up to you to think about. Whenever one yelled, the other one yelled louder. It was a pissing contest with no winner…

I should set the mood first, shouldn't I? It was early 2013, in Boston. The icy embrace of winter could still be felt throughout the city, like the good side of government: unseen most of the time, but you know it's there, somewhere. I lived in an apartment on the 13th floor, with a great view of the harbor. Ah, lucky 13. I put on my hoodie and opened the window, sat on the fire escape, closed the window, and just took in everything.

The aroma of pasta and meatballs from the Italian joint a block away. The just barely audible and slightly unnerving sounds of a couple going at it a couple floors down. Don’t ask how I know what that sounds like. Long story short, I can’t unhear it now. The bass beats of a party about two floors down, one to the left from mine. I heard a plate break behind me, and the shouting was making the windows vibrate, almost falling out of the pane.

I pulled up my hood as I made my way to the roof. I was so sick of this, of everything. I just wanted to break away, to leave this place and just go far away. Somewhere I didn't have to deal with this bullshit. I sat on the roof and just looked around. The harbor. I'm not going to steal a boat, if that's what you're thinking. You really think I could sail it? Nope. That's not me. I'm not a thief.

I don't take what I need, even though sometimes I should. I know there are always people worse off, but sometimes I don't care. Do you see me wandering the streets, begging for spare change? That doesn't mean I don't give them anything, every chance I get. It just means that sometimes I feel I shouldn't. Anyways. Where was I? Oh yeah.

I just sat there, absorbed it all. The smell of the harbor, of the sea. The feel of the winter weather giving me a slap on the cheek. The wind whipping by furiously. Sometimes I imagine just going along with it, just being carried away. Free of this regular life, free to do whatever I could do. Whatever I wanted to do. But right now, that's not the life I’m living, is it? No, it's not. Or is it?

I walked to the edge, I closed my eyes. I took a step forwards. I was falling. Wind whipping past me as I came closer to fate. As I fell, I thought. Not 'Oh Shit! I'm about to die!' Not 'Goodbye cruel world!' No. I thought 'Oh Shit! I left my cell phone up there!' As I rushed towards the ground, I wondered if this was a good idea.Then, I flew.

Come on. Did you really think I would die in the first chapter of my own story? Maybe that's the reason for the angel wings on the cover, that I’m telling you my story from the afterlife? Nope, this isn't one of those stories. Sorry to disappoint you. That being said, let's get back to the story. Once again, I flew! Not as in 'going really fast' flying, I mean 'We have liftoff' flying. How did that happen?!

I'll be completely honest. It wasn't him who flew. He's no god (or God, depending on who you are). I saved him. 'Who are you?', you might ask. I'm Angelo D. Decasso. 'That name sound foreign. What does it mean?' you might then ask. Look it up. This'll make a lot more sense if you do: I'm his father. I saved him. It wasn't his time, and it wasn't the last time I saved him, either.

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Honey, it’s me, Thalo. I’m sorry, but I won’t be returning from my vacation to Concord Dawn any time soon. I’ve been enlisted in the Stormtrooper Corps. I tried to tell them I wasn’t fit for duty, but we both know that’s not true. I’m being shipped off immediately. I don’t even get to say goodbye. I’ll be gone for a while honey, so be strong. Tell the kids their daddy loves them. I’ll try to write as often as possible. 


Alright. This hasn’t been so bad. I’ve been assigned to karking Tatooine, though. Out of everywhere to be. Tatooine?! But it’s not so bad. Me and the other guys in the squad sometimes go to the Mos Eisley Cantina and share drinks. We all miss home. Including me. I know you haven’t seen me in ages, so I had our commander snap a picture. I’m the one on the far right. Far left is Joker, next to him is Flame. Next to me is Reek. Long story. Yes, our armor is already dirty. Doesn’t stay clean for long on Tatooine. I’m always thinking of you. and the kids. Especially since there’s not much to do right now. No orders from Imperial Command. They just stationed us here and said “”Be on the lookout.” On the lookout for what? 

I guess I’ll find out soon enough. Love you, honey.

((This whole thing started just because my ex called me melodramatic.)

I sit next to you and think.
She can't be real, she's so...amazing.
And I'm...melodramatic.

She’s there for me.
And I'm there for her.
This must be love.
Everyone thinks it's about kissing, and sex.
I admit the kissing was amazing. (And I would never ask for the sex, for that would ruin us.)
But that's not what love is.

Love is...
Putting them above you.
Caring for them.
Giving them a shoulder to cry on.
Admitting when they're right.
And telling them when they're wrong.

Love is...
Soft when it wants, rough when it needs
And life-saving.

Love is…
The greatest feeling.

Love is…
I love you.
Nothing could change that.

Even if the icy grasp of Death should take hold of me,
I will carry my love for you to the grave.
I will greet the Grim Reaper with a smile.
“Why would you do so, being embraced by Death?” He may ask..
I will look into the Reaper’s eyes,
Grin on my face,
And say “Take me, for truly I have lived.”
And should the Reaper reach into my chest,
He would grasp nothing but air.
“What trickery is this?”
And I will smile,
And explain:
“I had a heart.
But I gave it away,
So that even the worst demons could not lay a single, horrid finger on it.
My heart is safe,
For it is in the hands of an angel.”

I look at you once more and grin, loving life and loving you. 

I am kind of melodramatic, aren’t I?

((Yeah, the beginning was purposely sorta stalker-ish.))

She walks down the sidewalk, lightly, as always. She’s just stopped for daily coffee: espresso with a spritz of cinnamon, as always. She tips the barista an extra five, as always. She’s kinda predictable, don’t you think? Not always. I like women with a little surprise.. 

She drops a fifty, but she doesn’t notice. She keeps walking. I walk over and grab the fifty. Money’s money, right? I turn to go back home, but feel guilty almost immediately. 

I twist in place and jog down the street. I slow down when I get close. I walk up to her and put my hand on her shoulder while she waits for the signal from the crosswalk. “Forgetting something?” I say, and chuckle. I hold up the fifty between my index and middle fingers. She looks at the fifty, in her purse, then back at the fifty, and snatches it from me.

“You stealing from me again? Really, Mike?”

“A man steals from you one time, and you never forget it. Girl, gimme some credit.”

“Next week, I’m keepin’ whatever you drop.” We have this kind of game where we watch over each other. It might sound like stalking, but we’ve done it since middle school. If one gets in trouble, the other steps in. One drops something, the other gets it. If the person who’s being watched over catches the person following them, the follower loses. We call it “Guardian Angel.”

“Sure. You know I never have anything even worth dropping.” I say, peeking over the brims of my aviators.

“If you say so.” She smirks, and brushes her dark brown hair out of her face. I run a hand through mine, jet black. “Well, you’ve lost, and it’s only…what time is it?”

I glance down at my watch. “Quarter of ten.”

“And it’s only quarter of ten! You know the rules: I can’t see you return anything, or you lose.”

“Welp, then… I guess I lose.” I smile, and throw my hands up in mock surrender.

“What do you want to do now?”

“Well, I am thirsty…” I say, and grab her espresso. I take a sip. “Ow! That’s fuckin’…” She glares at me. “Sorry. That’s frickin’ hot!” She takes her coffee back, takes a sip, and smirks.

“That’s what you get. You want an espresso, buy one yourself. But seriously, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. We could go back home and write. We could take a walk around town and just talk, we could go shopping. Most of my shirts have more holes than swiss cheese.”

“Home sounds good.”

“Bore-ing.” Ellie elbows me. “Kidding!”

The light for the crosswalk changes, and we jog across. One of the drivers must not be paying attention, because a car lurches forward. 

“Hey stronzo! Guardi dove va!” I shout, slipping into Italian. I give the driver the bras d’honneur.

“Leave him. He’s not worth it!” Ellie says to me. I mumble under my breath, but continue walking with her. We're not married, hell no. She doesn't love me like that. More like a brother.

Doesn't mean I haven't loved her since I first laid eyes on her.

((Last post for a week. Peace!))

To anyone reading this, I'm probably dead. This book is one of my closest possessions. I value this journal a friend. Word feels strange, even writing it feels weird. Haven't had that many, probably won't. These pages are my friends. I can tell them anything. Be the real me. Maybe after you're done reading this, you'll think of me as a friend. Maybe not. Like I said, you probably took this journal from my body. If you turn out to be one of my friends, I'M SORRY. I've done bad things in this life already, and probably will continue to. To all those I've hurt already, I hope you believe me when I say that I apologize. I wish I could say that I had no choice, but that.....that would be a lie. I CHOSE to join Caesar's Legion, I chose to take those lives, and now I’m going to have to live with those choices. I know I can't give you their lives back, but if this makes it any better for you, they were probably the ones that took mine. I probably won't have many friends by the end of this life, or for you, this journal, but I hope to change that.

My worst fear is that I will die alone, and no one will care.

Now, where to start? Should probably start my story at the beginning, but what is there really to tell? I was an average kid, or as average as a wasteland kid can be. Loved to read. Probably the only reason I took this book in the first place, to create one for all to read. I lived in what is now Legion territory. I wish I could say my story was like Lanius', fighting against the Legion until near death, then taking Caesar's offer. Not my story. Joined them first chance I got, not knowing the consequences. Soon as I could, I left my friends and family to join Caesar's cause. I wish I hadn't chosen that, but I did. Only thing worse for your health than joining the Legion is leaving it. Nothing to change that now. Just hope I can make up for it. Didn't make many friends flying the Bull. Wasn't sure the Bear would accept me, though. Might've welcomed me with open arms, or loaded guns. 

I just didn't know. 

Anyways, my times as a Frumentarius . I was a spy for the Legion. I usually went in disguise, to make sure no one knew they were on the way until it was too late. One time, when I was about 20, six years ago, my disguise was seen through. NCR Ranger, one of those guys with the gas masks and duster coats. I was in Freeside at the time, scouting for any signs of resistance. He must have heard the way I spoke, seen the way I acted. He shouted out to me, Stop! Stay where you are! (his helmet had some kind of voice modifier, as I would later find out), so I ran. He followed, but he didn't call for backup. Maybe he thought that I wouldn't be that much of a problem. Maybe he was right. I ran for the destroyed building, opposite Mick & Ralph's. I ran in and turned up the stairs. I heard his shoes behind me. He was catching up. I was running out of breath, but he was still going. I only had a switchblade, so I couldn't really fight back. I had to slow down before I fainted. It was a dead end anyways, a window on the wall, with cracked glass. I heard his feet pick up speed, and I turned around. Bad timing, because I saw him jump at me. He tackled me out of the window. I felt the glass cut into my back. He got up (to me) surprisingly fast, and drew his revolver. He was slim, but strong. The revolver was silver, with ivory. I saw a gold plate on the bottom that said 'To My Dearest', or something like that. Clearly, this man was a lot skilled than me. I knew not to fuck things up. This guy didn't mess around, I could tell. Maybe I could convince him to let me live (lived long enough to write this, didn't I)? Anyways, I was on the ground, looking down the barrel of a loaded gun. 'This is how I’m going to die,' I thought. My mouth was faster than his finger, and before he could pull the trigger, Please don't kill me!, I whimpered. I held my hands out in front of me, to show that I meant no harm. I could tell I would live another day, as the gloved hand wavered, then holstered the gun. Don't turn me in! You know what they do to Legion, especially spies! I'm only 20! I don't want to die!, I said. The Ranger reached up and removed his scarred helmet…to reveal a cascade of long, brunette hair. A woman. I had been spotted, bested, by a woman. I hoped to God that the men in the Legion never knew of this, or I would have never heard the end of it. 'Fine. Just because I don't want the job of dragging you to Camp McCarran.' There was something about the brutal honesty that drew me in. Yep. I was almost killed by this woman, yet I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Not quite Stockholm Syndrome, but pretty damn close.

((This is the prologue of a medieval zombie story.))

Alec Darkwater: Damnation Rising

It all started months ago, but I’ll get to that later. I lived in the small port town of Bloodgate. It was a complete hellhole but, then again, so was the rest of Blackforest. What wasn’t covered in dense woodlands teeming with ravenous animals and marauders was towns filled with thieves and bandits. Unfortunately, Blackforest was the only way to the nearby ‘city’ of King’s Folly. 

King’s Folly was a city built inside of  fortress walls, and was the size of a country. It was named after a king of the Old Civilization tried to take control of the seaward wall. There was a large battle, almost a war, to conquer the wall. After 5 months of battle, one of the King’s scouts managed to cross. It’s called King’s Folly because the scout’s message was hugely embarrassing: there was nothing on the other side of the massive wall. It was just that, a massive wall. Thousands of men had died  to breach a wall with nothing but flat plains on the other side. 

In the thousands of years after, the defenders built a city there, and expanded the wall to form a barrier the size of a small country. The city expanded as the wall did. Eventually, what the King had tried to capture thousands of years before had turned into a sprawling mega-city. 

It has been said that just four men of King’s Folly were equal to thirty ordinary soldiers. The soldiers wore heavy metal armor in a time where most wore plain leather. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting a Foley smith, and got the chance to test the armor for myself. The armor is extremely thick, metallic red in color, and is only penetrable when directly struck by siege weaponry, such as ballistas. It weighs a bloody ton, and costs an arm and a leg. If you can afford it, however, you will not be better protected by anything else.

Their weaponry is just as expertly crafted. I own a Folly-forged sword, and  carry it with me at all times. The blade is jet black and is as strong as a diamond. The hilt is a combination of the same red metal as the armor, and obsidian. I am a lucky man indeed. I prefer to not use a scabbard, but I have one carved out of ivory for ceremonial purposes.

The city of King’s Folly had yet to be breached by invaders. I can say that, currently, I am writing this from within the walls. Life here may not be great, but it is Heaven compared to the hell outside the walls. Or, should I say, THE Hell outside the wall? 

The creatures are thought to come from the fire and brimstone of Hades itself  for, even if they were of this realm before, they are most certainly not currently. The creatures are lightning fast, with the talons of mountain lions and the screech of banshees. All color has been drained of their flesh, with blood red eyes. Most of these creatures have various parts of their flesh removed entirely, revealing the bone beneath. They are much tougher to kill than a regular human. They must be dispatched by an arrow to the brain, dismemberment of the head, or other methods of halting the brain from action. I suggest all of the above. Their teeth are as sharp as daggers, and thrice as deadly. If you have the horrible misfortune of being bitten by one of the creatures, you will begin the slow, painful, miserable fate of being turned into one of their horde. At the time of this writing, there is no known cure for the bite, and has had an equal bite to transformation or death ratio. 

I’ve seen friends fall to the infection, towns burned to the ground to try to drive it off. I’ve now dedicated my life to finding a cure. I can’t stand to see any more innocents killed to stave off the Damned. It is a slow and miserable death, of which I would not wish upon my worst enemy. Once proud warriors have been turned into mindless hellspawn. Entire cities have fallen. Armies changed to half-a-dozen traumatized men, unwilling to ever see the light of day again.

January 13th, 2020, Boston, Massachusetts

I wake up, earlier than usual. Ugh. I sit up and run my hands through my hair. Astrid Blackthorn (Addie for short), my girlfriend, is still asleep next to me. I force myself to stand up, as quietly as I can. I slink to the living room of the apartment, noiselessly. I rub my eyes, then walk to the window. I open it, sit in the frame, and look at the city. I can smell the bakery, blocks away, almost taste the salty sea. I close my eyes, and just listen. 

Boston’s mostly asleep. Mostly. I can hear a party going on, five floors down. We (Addie and I) live on the 13th floor. Ah, lucky thirteen. I look at my watch. 10:30 p.m. Too early for me. I’m still half asleep. I put on my hoodie, and pop in my earbuds.

“Well you can tell everybody. Yeah you can tell everybody. Go ‘head and tell everybody: I’m the man, I’m the man, I’m the man. Yes I am, yes I am, yes I am. I’m the man, I’m the man, I’m the man.”

I roll up my sleeves and drop out of the window. I keep my eyes closed, and I can feel the wind rushing past. I approach the ground, and make a three point landing. I don’t make a sound. 

I apologize. This must all seem very weird to you. I must have forgotten something. Let me think…oh yeah. I, Alessandro LaSanguinosa, am a vampire. No, not like those damn sparkly Twilight wannabes. A real vampire. Not quite like Dracula or Nosferatu, either, though. I’ve managed to survive off animal blood, which most others don’t approve of. They prefer the ‘thrill of the hunt.’ I, personally, can’t stand it.  I used to be human, and it doesn’t feel right killing one.

Let me put some rumors to rest. Stakes do hurt us, but sunlight doesn’t. I still prefer to go out at night, though, like now. Silver and holy symbols don’t affect us. In fact, I have a silver cross necklace. We are immortal, and have enhanced strength, senses, speed and healing. We can’t fly or change forms (nope, not even into bats), but we are psychics.

Now that that’s out in the open, let’s continue. I take the stairs or the elevator during the day, but I can be free at night. I fix my hair and start jogging to the nearest Dunkin Donuts. When I get there, I order a jelly donut and a coffee, black. The cashier is a tall blonde man with blue eyes. A regular, mortal, human being. “Here you are, sir.“ He says as I give him the money, and he hands me my order. I can hear him think: Leave, dammit, so I can go home!

“Thank you…” I pause as I read their nametag. “Gerry.”

“It’s awfully late for donuts and coffee, though, don’t you think? It’ll keep you up all night.”

“That’s the plan.”

“What are you? Like, a vampire or something?”

I chuckle. He doesn’t know how right he is. “Yeah, something like that. You mind if I take a seat? I’m not in a rush.”

“Be my guest.” I can hear the sarcasm in his voice, and can tell he really wants me out of there, so I do sit down, but I try to rush.

I’m the only person there, so I sit in a booth and relax as I drink my coffee. Right as I’m about to take a bite of my donut, I have an idea. I put the donut back in the bag. “Have a good night, Gerry.”

Douchebag, I hear him think. 
I can’t resist. “It’s not good for business to insult your customers.” I say. I think about turning and flashing my fangs, but I don’t do it.

✟                       ✟                 ✟                    ✟

I walk through the front door of the apartment building, and the owner sees me. “Alex! That’s strange, I never saw you leave.”

“Hey Herb! You musta’ been sleepin’.” He is pretty old. I think he used to be a news reporter or something. He tried to interview me once, and I had to duck to dodge the microphone. If you’re not quick, be prepared for a mic to the face.

“Yeah. That does sounds like me.” He sighs, visibly tired. “Have a good night, Alex.”

“You too, Herb.” I wave goodbye, then start up the stairwell. Always need to keep in tip-top shape. When I get to the thirteenth floor, I slink to the door and enter the apartment without a sound. I place the donut on a plate, and cut it in half. I take a spoon and scoop the jelly out. 

What? Did you think I was going to suck it out? I’m not that cliched. I scoop the jelly into a bowl and eat the empty, powder-covered shell. Then I stick my fingers into the jelly and rub it on my fangs, chin, and fingertips. 

I noiselessly creep to the still open bedroom door, and walk over to Astrid. She’s still sleeping, so I whisper. “Astrid. Wake up Addie.” She starts blinking awake, and almost screams when she sees me. “Blah! Blah! I vant to suck your blood!” I say, in a stereotypical Dracula voice. I stand over her, fangs out, as if I’m about to bite her. 

She laughs as she swats at me. “Not funny!”

“Then why are you laughing?” I ask, smirking.

“Smartass.” She says, still smiling. “What time is it?” I glance down at my watch. “11 p.m.”

“Whoa! I slept late, didn’t I?” She’s kinda like me; A vamp/lycan hybrid, who alternates between sleeping during the day and during the night. She doesn’t really hunt either. We’re both outcasts in our people’s eyes. 

I lick up the jelly and sit down next to her. “So, how was your sleep?”


“Have any dreams?” I ask.


“Was I in any of them?”

“Nope, not this time. I dreamed of before I was a vampire.”

“Was it boring?”

“Kinda. Things are so much more interesting when you’re practically immortal.” Unlike me, Astrid was born in the twenty-first century. She looks the same age as me, but I’m hundreds of years older. She sometimes calls me “Gramps” because I remember when the Renaissance was the biggest thing at the time, and when the Boston Tea Party was the latest breaking news. Yes, I’m that old. I’ve adapted as time’s gone on, though I haven’t physically aged a day since I was bitten in my mid-twenties. I  lived in London for a long spell and picked up some of the slang, as well as a slight British accent.

We help explain things to each other. She mainly explains technology and ‘hip, modern’ slang and sayings. You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to realize that Lzzy Hale was not, in fact, a vampire, because the song “Love Bites (So Do I)” was not about her life as a blood-sucker. And don’t even get me started on her reaction to when I said “I’m quite gay” when she asked me how I was doing. I help her understand her new abilities, and how to put them to the best use. That, and how to mess with humans without exposing ourselves. Little things, like what I did with the Dunkin’s guy.

“So, what’s up, Gramps?”

“Not much. I just swung by Dunkin Donuts. Played a trick on the cashier.”

“Oh yeah? What did you do?”

“Well, he was about to close up shop when I came. I could tell that he really wanted me to leave. When I did leave, I heard him call me a douchebag in his head, so I said ‘It’s not good for business to insult your customers.’ I should’ve flashed my fangs.”

She smiles. “Nice. Good ol’ fashioned psychic powers.”

“Yep. Poor, poor humans.”

“Hey! I was one, and so were you!”

“True, I was a human. About 600 years ago.”

“Yeah? Well, I was only bitten recently.”

“Should I start calling you ‘fledgeling?’”

“Not if you want to keep not living, Gramps.”

I put on the best old person voice I can muster. “Hey young lady! I’m over 600 years old, goddammit, and I deserve some respect!”

Astrid laughs. “That was almost convincing.”

“I would hope. I’ve had quite some time to perfect it.”

“Yeah, but let’s see how many people you can fool. What, with you looking like you’re twenty-five.”

“True, true,” I said, nodding in agreement. After a few minutes of sitting there, I say “You wanna go see Will?”

“Sure. Let me get decent first.” She gets out of bed, and walks over to the closet, picking out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. As she’s about to put them on, she looks up at me. “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. Continue.” I say, and smirk. She glares at me, and I turn around. I hear her slip out of her sweatpants and into her jeans. She picked out an ironic t-shirt that says “CAUTION: Beware of fangs. Creature bites.” 
“Ok, I’m ready.” She says.

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

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We get to Will’s apartment in five minutes, and I knock on the door. “Who’s there?” I hear him practically growl.

“It’s us. Alex and Addie.” I say. “You gonna let us in?”

“Gimme a sec.” I can hear him kick something metal out of his way as he walks to the door. He opens the door and smirks. “Well, if it ain’t the vamp couple. How you two doin’?”

“Not bad, ya big, hairy bastard.” I say, jokingly. Will’s full name is Wilson Lockhart, and he happens to be a werewolf. Yeah, I know that we’re supposed to be mortal enemies, but he’s an outcast, just like Addie and I. He refuses to fight an entire race of creatures that have done nothing to him. That doesn’t mean he can’t kick ass in a fight, it just means that he aims the ass-kicking in a direction different from most lycans. Real werewolves like Will have control over their transformation.

“Good to hear it, ya blood-suckin’ sonofabitch. What about you, Addie?”

“I’m doing alright. A little disappointed though. No ‘affectionate’ nickname for me?”

“Sorry. No can do.”

“Why not, you stupid mutt?” She asks, and smiles.

“You bat lovin’, day hatin’, neck-biting parasite. Happy?”

“A little long, but it’ll do. Only one of those things is true about vamps, though.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged. After a minute standing there, he asks “Uh, you wanna come in? Do I need to invite you in?”

“Sure, and no, you don’t. That’s just a myth.” I say, and we walk into his apartment on the 6th floor. 

Astrid wrinkles her nose. “It smells like wet dog in here.” We have enhanced senses, and it smells bad.

“Sorry, I just took a shower. You guys want something to eat? Drink?”

“You have any Sprite?” Astrid asks.

“One Sprite, comin’ up. Alex?”

“Mountain Dew: Code Red.” What did you think I would ask for? O positive?

“Got it.” He says, and tosses us the cans. We catch ‘em and pop the tops. 

I take a sip, and say “So, what’s up, Will?”

“Not much, to be honest. I’ve been looking for a nice lycan-girl, but I haven’t had much luck.”

“With you smellin’ like that, I wonder why.”

“Haha. It took you 600 years to find a vamp who’d go out with you.”

“Touche. Anything else?”

“Yeah. I read the story you sent me, Addie. The one about the split-personality vampire kid and his hair-dresser friend. I could use a trim, come to think of it.”

“What did you think of it? Any good?”

“Really good, but it kinda paints us werewolves in a bad light, don’t you think?”

“Sorry. I kinda forgot that my second reader would probably be a werewolf. Then again I’m part werewolf…so I didn’t really think about it that much.”

“That’s fine. No offense taken. Not like the wolf’s name is Will.”

“Good to hear that you like it regardless.” Addie says, proud of herself. Will grabs a Barqs root beer and vaults over the back of his couch to sit with us. We all sit there for a minute, just sipping our sodas. After about five minutes, I say “So, who wants to go clubbin’?”

Will and Astrid look at each other, then at me. “Human, or…Other?” Astrid asks.

“Other.” I say. Other consists of vamps, lycans, and other “supernatural” creatures, such as witches, warlocks, and angels. All of those exist. Yes, even angels. Beautiful things. Way outta my league, though. Besides, I have Addie. Anyways…

“Alright then. Sounds good.” Will says. 

We both look at Astrid. “Screw it, I’m in.” She says.

“Okay. Will, put something better on. Addie, let’s go back and change. We’ll meet Will outside in 10, alright?”

“Like what?” Will asks. “I don’t really have nice clothes. Mostly just jeans and t-shirts.”

“Fine. Come with us.” We walk back to our apartment on the 13th floor and open the closet. I take off my v-neck, put on a dark red button-up shirt and a black waistcoat, and fasten my silver cross necklace.. Will picks out a dark brown M-65 field jacket. Astrid puts on a brown leather vest and black blouse. I look at Will, then Astrid, and put my arm around her. “I think we’re ready.”

✟              ✟                    ✟                           ✟   

We find an Others club, and I push open the door with one arm, the other still around Astrid. We’re immediately slammed by the music coming from the DJ’s booth. We look around the club. There’s everything here: vamps, lycans, warlocks, and even an angel or two. Us vamps have enhanced senses, and each Other has a specific scent. Other vamps smell like iron. Werewolves smell like balsam. Warlocks smell like…I don’t quite know how to describe it, but it definitely smells like magic. Angels have a strong, sweet, wonderful honey-like scent. 

“I think we’ve found the right place.” I say. 

“Good. I was starting to think I was losing my sense of direction.” Will says.

“Good to see you haven’t.” I say, and chuckle as I unbutton the top few buttons of my shirt. “Who’s up for drinks?” Will and Astrid both raise their hands. “Alright then. Let’s drink!”

We walk over to the bar, and I order us all drinks. I order an “Are You Positive?” for myself, which is a margarita with a mix of different blood types, all positive (hence the name). Astrid orders a “Bloody Good Time,” which is Commandaria wine, also spiked with blood. Will orders a Howlin’ Wolf: white Creme de Menthe, blue Curacao, vodka, and Sprite. 

We take a sip of our drinks, then I turn my back to the bar, put my arm back around Addie, and look around the club. I see an attractive shapeshifter girl, all by herself, in the corner, and point her out to Will.

“Whaddya think, Will? She look like your type? Mid-twenties, attractive, and not taken.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t look like she’s here with anyone else. Should I see if she’s interested?”

“Go get ‘em tiger or…uh, you know what I mean. Barkeep, another Howlin’ Wolf, please.”

“Coming right up.” The bartender says, and puts the glass on the bar.

“Here,” I say, picking up the glass and handing it to Will. “Bring this.”

“But I already have a…oh! Oh! OK.” I smirk and shake my head. He walks over to her, and starts talking to her. I use my enhanced senses to listen in.

The girl, mid twenties, blonde, sees Will walking towards her and says “Can I help you, uh…”

“Wilson Lockhart. You can call me Will. And yes, you can. You look like you’re here alone, and I seem to have ordered more Howlin’ Wolves than I can drink.”

“Let me guess, you’re gonna ask if I want the other one. Yes, yes I do.” She says, and takes the drink from him. She takes a sip, and he sits down next to her.

“I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Primrose Ruin. Call me Rose.”

“So, Rose, you wanna hang out with us?”

“Who’s ‘us?’”

“Me and my vamp friends, Alex-”

“Hold up. Vamps? You know that vamps and lycans don’t get along very well, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But you can trust ‘em. Alex is over 600 years old, and I think he knows by now to pick his battles. As long as you don’t fight them, they won’t fight you.”

“If this is a trap…” Rose says. She may sound cautious, but I can tell that she’s intrigued. 

“They’re good people, trust me. We would’ve killed each other if we wanted to. But I’m an outcast because I chose to not fight vamps.”

“Fine, Will. You seem like a good enough guy. But if one of them tries to bite me, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Deal. OK?” He asks, and puts out his hand.

“Deal.” She says, and shakes his hand. 

When I turn back to Astrid, I see that another vamp is coming over. He looks her over, then says “Hey beautiful. How’re you doin’?”

“Excuse me?” She says.

“I think that you can do better than this dried up, non-human hunting douchebag. That’s right, I know who you are, Alex. We normal vampires don’t approve of your ways, and we think someone should deal with you.”

“Tell me, fledgeling, how old are you?”

“First of all, no one, no one, calls me fledgeling. I’m two hundred years old. What of it?”

“I’m over six hundred years old, and I think it’s time someone put you in your place.”

“So an old, useless, good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch, human lover is going to…what, exactly?”

“Teach you to not pick fights with someone who can, and will, lay you out, easily. Got it, asshole?”

“Oh, I hear you. I don’t understand how you’re going to.” He says, and grins. I aim to beat it right off his goddamn face. 

I deliver an uppercut that knocks him off his feet. The DJ stops the song that was playing, and puts on “Get Up” by Korn. Hey, when you’ve been alive six hundred years, you’ve heard everything. He jumps back to his feet and practically glides towards me, fist raised. I sidestep him, and bring a knee up. It hits him in the groin. I take advantage of the opportunity, and grab him by the throat. My fangs come out, which I know means that my eyes just turned bright yellow. I’m now in “full vamp mode.” 

I pick him up, hand still around his throat, and say “Learned your lesson yet?”

He spits in my face. “You wish.”

“You really shouldn’t have done that.” I say. I slam him through the nearest table, then pick him up again and slam him even harder into the nearest wall. There’s now a man-shaped crater in the concrete wall. 

I hear eight (yes, I can tell it’s 8 without looking. Don’t ask how) more vamps stand up, and I hear Rose ask “Is this how you guys always act?”

“No. Usually the fight’s over by now.” Will says. 

“More fun for us.” Rose says.

“You fit right in.” Astrid says. 

I turn my attention back to the asshat I’m currently beating the (un)living bejesus out of. I slam him into the ground, then finally let go, and dust myself off. I see a woman (witch, by her scent) walk to him and crouch over him.

“That’ll teach you to push your luck, Drake. You never stood a chance.”

“Fuck off, witch-bitch.”

“Oh, honey, I know that you didn’t just say what I think you said.”

“You heard me.”

“I had a feeling you would say that.” Witches can do a lot of things to you, not many of them pleasant. Luckily for Drake, she just punches him across the face, then stomps (not steps, much harder) on his crotch. I can tell everyone in the club winces. She looks at me, and sees me grinning, ear to ear.

“Good job, Ms…”

“Eden. Eden Deadwood. Witch, artist, professional ass-kicker.”

“You’d fit right in with us, Eden.”

“Count me in, then.” We hear Drake whimper “Ambulance”, and both Eden and I turn to him and say “Shut the hell up.”

“Welcome to the crew.” I say, and shake her hand. “Barkeep! Could I get a round of drinks?”

“How many?”

“One for everyone here. Whatever they want. On me. I’m feeling generous.”

“Right away.”



“Play something good this time, ‘kay?” I say, and smirk.

The DJ chuckles. “Sho’ thing, mah man!”

Well you can tell everybody. Yeah you can tell everybody. Go ‘head and tell everybody: I’m the man, I’m the man, I’m the man. Yes I am, yes I am, yes I am. I’m the man, I’m the man, I’m the man.

Jason Mason looked around the club for Ariana, his fiance. She was supposed to meet him here over 3 hours ago. Where is she?, he thought. Jason was better looking than most other people his age (mid 20's). Gelled brown hair, a little stubble, tan skin, a tattoo or two. He was wearing a silk, gold-colored dress shirt under a black waistcoat, with black suit pants and brown Italian shoes. Gold watch, gold Ray-Ban aviators (a collectors item in 2064) with one-way lenses (resting on his forehead), golden buttons on his vest. Everything about him showed his exuberant lifestyle. His clothes, his laugh, his attitude. Remember, though, money doesn't buy happiness.

If she's not here in an hour, I'm leaving, he thought. He felt a little woozy, with everything on his mind, combined with the bass beats from the dance floor behind him. He decided to take the cure for all ailments. He walked to the bar and asked the bartender for a glass of whiskey, and he was soon drowning his thoughts. He felt better again after a few minutes He felt alive. In fact, he almost forgot about Ariana. Screw 'er. Women just break your heart, he thought as he took another drink.
Alec was on the run. Again. The police had caught him breaking into a home safe in Massachusetts. Messy incident. One cop in a coma, one with major injuries, and one just scratched and bruised. He needed to get as far away from Mass. as he could, and Chicago seemed like a good enough place to start over. Again. He had to ditch his cell phone before he left Massachusetts, but within ten minutes of entering Chicago, he was in possession of a brand new one.

He cleared everything off the phone and hid it in his jean's pocket. He was wearing a black v-neck, dark jeans, black sneakers, and a black beanie. He had a tribal tattoo going down his right arm, and he wore a black watch. He had a large messenger bag strapped across his back. He had spiky dark brown hair and was a little on the thin side.

I need new clothes, he thought. He walked through town, and after about 15 minutes, found a clothing store and went in.“Hello sir. Can I help you find anything?”

“No thanks. You got wi-fi here?”

“Yes, sir, of course. Is that everything?”

“Yep, that's it.”

“Okay sir. You know where to find me.”

Alec found the men's section, and picked out a dark red business shirt, a black sport coat, a new pair of suit pants, a black tie, and a pair of gloves. He went in the changing room and tried them on. There was EL tubing running through the suit and gloves that caused parts of them to glow at the press of a button. The jacket on the suit also had a hood. That suited him perfectly. 'A gentleman thief,' some might call him. The suit fit perfectly, and the gloves fit like, well, gloves. He would definitely come back here.

He put his old clothes in his messenger bag, then sat down and pulled out his phone. He swept his finger across the screen in the shape of an omega. This brought up his secret operating system he could open from any smartphone or touchscreen computer. Within minutes, he had added 100 thousand dollars to his bank account, 50 cents from everyone he hacked. 

He felt a lot safer committing his robberies from behind a screen, so he didn't need to see the people he was stealing from. That, combined with the fact that he was an Amp. Amp is a nickname for humans who have been modified to be better at their jobs. Most people detested Amps, though. They claimed they took jobs away from hard-working, flesh and blood citizens.

Androids also made up a large part of the United State's population. The androids of 2064 walked, talked, acted, felt, and lived like ordinary citizens. In fact, some of them didn't even know what they really are. People hated them even more than Amps.

Alec had a few psych amps himself, though. His intelligence was moderately increased, as were his memory and computation skills. He also had a few physical amps. His eyes were modified to identify things you normally had to rely on your own senses to see, such as how easy someone is to pickpocket, or how to hack, by scanning for tells. He also had modified arms that, while the arms themselves were stronger, the hands were swifter and allowed him to carry out dexterous movements. He had modified lungs that allowed him to run longer before getting exhausted. Besides the golden eyes that glowed when he focused, he looked completely human. Looks are deceiving.

“Come on, man! You gotta punch harder than that! ”

“Oh! You want it to hurt?! I'll make it hurt!” Stephan punched his trainer as hard as he could, sending him flying off his feet.

“I guess I asked for that, didn't I?” The trainer chuckled to himself.

Stephan chuckled as well, then held out his gloved hand and pulled his trainer up.

“Same time next week, Stephan?”

“You know it, man.”

“Good. See ya then.” The trained waved and left.

Stephan put on his old leather jacket on over the muscle shirt he wore for training. He switched out the shorts he was wearing for a pair of jeans, and put his boots back on. Most people who've met him say an accurate description of him is 'rugged.' 6 ft, black hair, vibrant blue eyes. He was born to a French model and an Irish boxer. Don't ask how they ended up hooking up. Not even he knows.
Stephan took a towel and wiped the sweat away. 'You can never be too well trained. Be ready for anything and everything,' his father always said.

He took out a flask of scotch from one of his many jacket pockets and took a swig. He put the cap back on and tucked away the flask again after a couple minutes. As he put it in one of his pockets, he heard his phone ring.


“Yo. Stephan, it's Frank. Remember that guy you did that thing for about a month ago? Leo?”

“Sadly, I do. What about 'im?”

“He still hasn't payed up yet.”

“But it was a fuckin' month ago!”

“I know, that's the problem!”

“Merde. Where's he now?”

“Last thing I heard, he booked a flight to Chicago.”

Stephan sighed. “OK, merci.”

“I'll keep you updated, boss.”

“Thanks Frank.”
Stephan hung up. He sighed again. Looked like he had no choice. He was taking a trip to Chicago. His name was Stephan Ouimètte, and someone owed him money.

Peacemakers E-1131 and P-3734 returned to base after twelve hours on their patrol routes. Better known as Katrina Weston and Wilson, they were the elite of the Peacemakers, the P.A.I.N (Peacemaker Aerial INfiltration) division.

They wore black full body armor, called R.A.I.D (Rapid Aerial Infiltration Dropsuit), which was resistant to almost all ballistic weapons, and had full-face, one-way, gold visors. The only thing an onlooker would see when looking at their 'face' was a targeting reticle, sweeping for hostiles.

Wilson and Katrina got to the locker rooms, took off their armor, and replaced it with muscle shirts and shorts, and went to the training room. They were the only ones there.

They went over to the mats on the floor and began practicing their hand-to-hand technique. “So, anything interesting happen on your patrol?” Katrina asked, as she swung her fist.

“Well, one Amp was trying to start a fight with me. He said he was robbed, then got angry when I didn't believe him. A couple hits with the baton straightened him out. What about you?” Blocked.

“Nothing much. Waste of time for us if you ask me. We should be busting crime and killing criminals, not patrolling the city for Amps and 'droids who don't even do anything wrong 99% of the time!” Katrina delivered a roundhouse kick that knocked Wilson off his feet.

“I know, but what can we do about it?” He said as she went for the 'kill'. He swept her legs out and pinned her arms. “Wanna call this a tie?”

“You wish.” She kneed him in the groin, grabbed his arms, and reversed the pin. “I win. Again.”

“Dammit.” He said as she stood up and helped him. “What was that about Amps?”

“Nothing. Wouldn't you rather be doing something more exciting anyways?”

“I guess. I've just always hated androids. It's the reason I signed on in the first place.”


“One of them put my little sister in a coma a couple years ago. She was like, 14! She still hasn't woken up yet. I'm worried she might never.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be. It's not like you're an android. Right?”

“Of course I’m not. Did you, uh, ever find him?”

“No. I remember his face, though. If I see him, synthetic blood will run in the streets.”

After a long silence, they said their goodbyes, got in their cars, and went home.
Ω    Ω Ω
Jason sat at his house, on the couch in the living room. He had removed his vest and unbuttoned his shirt, and sat on the couch with a glass of whiskey, watching the news.

“Breaking news in Chicago tonight, as there was a deadly shootout between the Black Hat and A.H.R. street gangs outside of a local jewelry store. Tensions rose at about 10:00, as reported by eyewitnesses, between the two gangs, as threats were made, and then guns were pulled. In the resulting firefight, at least five members of each gang were mortally wounded, and two innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire. One of them, a young woman by the name of Ariana Mason, was wounded but is in stable condition at the moment.” Jason muted the TV when he heard this.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! That's where she was! I gotta get to the hospital, now!”

Jason did up a couple of buttons on his shirt, grabbed his wallet and phone, and ran out the front door. When he got to the driveway, he was surprised, because...

“What the hell? Someone slashed my tires!”

He vaulted over his fence, onto the sidewalk. He looked back and forth, and saw a car coming...
Alec had paid for his clothes, and was taking a drive around the city in a car he had bought with the money he had stolen earlier. It was an all black 2013 Camaro. It was like a relic now. As he was driving, he thought he saw someone in the headlights. It was a man in a half-buttoned business shirt, waving him over. Alec pulled over and rolled the window down.

“Yes? Is there any reason for you standing in the street, with no shoes and a half-buttoned shirt, waving people down?”

“Please sir, it's urgent! Can you get me to the hospital?” Alec nodded, and pressed a button that opened the door. The man sat down and slammed the door shut.

“Watch it! This is a brand new car!”


“Why are we going to the hospital?”

“You've heard the news report about the gang fight, right? The one outside a jewelry store? Well, the woman who was shot, Ariana Mason, is my fiance.”

“Here. Take the wheel,” Alec said as they switched seats. Alec pulled out his phone and drew the omega with his finger.

“What are you doing?”

“You'll see.”

They made it to the hospital in less than 10 minutes. Alec had hacked into the into the city's transit system and made all of the lights on the way green for them and red for everyone else.When they pulled into the hospital, they both got out of the car.

“Thanks, man. I don't know what you did, but I don't want to. Thank you! ”

“No problem.”

“There's got to be some way I can repay you.”

“Well, I do need a place to stay for a while...”

“Sure. I think I left the front door unlocked.”

“Thanks. Good luck with your fiance.”

“I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along.”

“Go, what's-your-face! Your fiance needs you, not me!”

“It's Mason. Jason Mason.” Jason waved goodbye as he ran inside.

Alec smirked, got back in his car, and drove back to the man's house.He parked his car on the driveway and looked across the yard. On the other side of the street was a plain white van. Alec turned, and saw Jason's door wide open. He could hear voices.

“Hurry! Let's grab this shit and get out!”

“I'm moving as fast as I can!” Alec stepped through the door with his hood raised, shadowing his face, and said “Not fast enough.” He took his phone, stood it up on a dock next to the door, faced it towards the men, then put his hands back in his pockets as he turned back to the two home invaders.

“Who's this? Some asshole trying to play hero, eh?”

There were two men. Both of them had black hoodies and track pants, with black bandanas covering their faces.

“You bet your theivin' asses.”

“We'll show you what happens to heroes in Chicago.”

One of the men raised a crowbar to strike Alec. This is where his amps kicked in.

His gold eyes started glowing. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion. He analyzed the weaknesses in the man's attack. He caught the man's attack with his right hand, then delivered a palm smash to his elbow with his left, bending the elbow the wrong way. He cried out in pain, then dropped to his knees. Alec delivered a kick to the gut, then the man fell to the ground, clutching his stomach.

Alec looked at him for a moment, then turned his attention to the other one. He pulls a long, jagged, trench knife. The thief twirls it around, clearly an expert. Alec turned partially to the phone, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out an AP-34 handgun. Semi-automatic pistol, aftermarket gold decal and fire selector. He aims it at the thief. He does nothing. 

Alec flicks the safety off. He can tell that the man is having second thoughts, because he can see the knife slightly shaking. He flicks the selector to burst. The man is sweating. Alec's blank expression turns into a smirk as he switches the selector to automatic, as slowly and dramatically as he can, and starts walking towards him.The man drops his knife and falls to his knees.

Alec bends down to the other man on the floor, and removed his bandana. Alec puts it on his own face, then stands up, and walks over to the man on his knees. He flips the pistol, so his hand is on the barrel, and whacks the man with it, knocking him out cold. Alec walks over to his phone and crouches down so that the camera can have a full view of him; a masked, hooded vigilante.

“And that,” he says as he motions towards the two men on the floor with his pistol, “is what happens to bad guys in Chicago.”

Stephan’s still sitting in the airport, waiting for his flight. It had been delayed indefinitely, and he is getting pissed. He had taken only a small messenger bag, since he kept most of his things in his leather jacket. Knife, handgun, scotch, phone, money; everything he needs, in his pockets.

He stands up after about an hour, to 'go to the bathroom.' He wanders off to the mall adjacent to the airport, and finds an unfinished store. The workers had gone home for the day. Perfect, Stephan thought.

He slips in, unnoticed. He finds where the manager's room would be, the only room that already has a door. He pulls out his cell phone and punches in a number. He has contacts everywhere, including this very airport. He calls the man in charge of the air traffic control tower.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“This is Stephan. We met, eh? I believe you owe me a favor.”

“Yeah, we did. I guess I do.”

“You guessed right. I need to borrow a plane.”

“Really? Fine. Use mine. They're not gonna just let you through, though.”

“Wasn't planning on it.”

“Will this make us even, Stephan?”

“Depends. If I can get to your plane without getting arrested, your debt goes away. If I can't...well, I'd rather not say over the phone.”

“Message received. Good luck Stephan.”

“I don't need your luck.”

“If you say so.”

Stephan hung up and put his phone back in one of his jean pockets. Vibrant eyes full of determination, he put all of his things in his bag, put his jacket on over it, and headed for the terminal, grabbing a baseball cap on the way and placed it so it shadowed his face as much as possible.

Stephan acts as normal as he can. He is a completely unmodified human, which meant he doesn't need to go through the additional searches. Not that the he’s going to submit to the regular ones anyways. When he gets to the terminal, he is stopped, and the security team pulls him aside, an android and a human. They bring him to a side room, which has a clear view of the nearby hangar. When the android restrained him, holding his wrists behind him, the officer takes Stephan's ball cap and places it on the table.

“I can tell you, without a doubt, that you don't belong here.”

“Oh really? Why would that be?” Stephan responds.

“Listen. You may be 'just another person waiting to get on a flight' to everyone else, but everyone on the security force knows who you really are. We're taking you in.”

Stephan slips out of his beloved leather jacket, slides under the table in the middle of the room, and tackles the human officer out of the window as he stands up. It’s a two story drop. Luckily for him, the officer makes a nice cushion. Stephan survives the fall, but he can't say the same of the officer. He take the officer's pistol and tucks it in between his belt and the back of his jeans.

He wipes the blood off of his face, then began sprinting for the personal hangar where the jet was waiting. As he’s running, he pulls out his phone, dials the air traffic controller, and tells him to look out the window. When he looks down, he sees Stephan giving him the one-finger-salute.

“You're lucky I’m a forgiving person!”, Stephan says into the phone. “Tell your guy to ready the plane and start down the runway!”

“OK! The police are on their way, though, so run faster!”

As the plane is starting down the runway, Stephan is sprinting after it. He hears a police car behind him, then hears the cops get out. “Get down on the ground! Now!”

Stephan catches up to the plane then, and dives onto the wing on the side with the door. He makes his way over to the door, and opens it. As he climbs inside, he turns to the cops and flips them off. As he closes the door, the plane leaves the runway, heading for Chicago.

Katrina relaxes on the couch at her house (a few blocks away from Jason's. Not that either of them knew about the other). Katrina has light brown hair, with a couple bright, striking red streaks, and dark, focused brown eyes. Katrina is not an ordinary Peacemaker:  she isn’t heartless and has managed to keep her compassion for Amps and Androids a secret.

She used to have an Android friend, Wolf Hyland. He went missing years ago, but he still hasn't been found. Katrina joined the Peacemakers in hopes of finding him. He was an optimistic person that seemed ever enthusiastic about life and living, despite the fact that he was never really 'alive' to begin with. He was fond of reading, and that was one of the things that made them perfect friends. In fact, they first met at a library. She closes her eyes and remembered the day. It is like yesterday to her.

She was sitting at one of the tables, nose deep in a thick novel. She thought she heard the sound of someone swearing. She shushed them, but when they didn't, she went looking for the source. After a few minutes of searching through the aisles (grabbing a few more books that caught her eye on the way, naturally), she found him. Wolfe was standing in an aisle, trying to get to a book out of reach. The shelf was nine feet up, but he was only 6'3. The footstool was nowhere to be seen, as was the ladder. She stood there for a few minutes, watching. He tried to climb using the shelves, but he didn't get very far.

After about 6 minutes, she spoke up.“Need a little help there?” Wolf whipped around in surprise. Obviously, he didn't know anyone was watching. “Please? I found the book I've been searching for for weeks, but it's too far up!”

“Where is it?” He said the letter and number, and she saw it. Loose Canons, by E. Banas. She had heard about that book, but hadn't gotten the chance to read it yet. “I see it. Stand there, crouch, and face outwards, arms out, palms up.” He did as she said.

She walked over and stood on his hands. “Okay, now...lift!”

He lifted her upwards until she told him to stop, and grabbed the book. Wolf's arms gave way, and he let go of Katrina. She flew through the air and made a three point landing, with the book under her other arm. She stood up and gave a quick bow, then handed Wolf the book.

“I believe you owe me now.”

“I guess I do.”

They stood there, her looking into his silver eyes, him, her brown eyes. “What's your name?” Wolf asked after a few seconds.

“Katrina Weston. Yours?”

“Wolf Hyland.”

“I hate to be rude, but you wouldn't happen to be an android, would you? Or an Amp? I can tell those eyes are definitely not human.”

“Shhhh. Yes, android, but I don't want anybody to know.”

“Got it. My lips are sealed.” She said, then she mimed zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key. “One thing though: I want to know more about androids,” she said, whispering 'androids', “and you would be perfect.”

“Sure. Why not? I've been interested in humans myself.” He whispered 'humans', mocking Katrina. She punched him in the arm.

“Here's your first note: We still feel pain!”

“Oh, believe me, I already knew that. That's why I did it.” They heard another voice, coming from the tables in the center. “Get a room you two!”

“Shove a sock in it.” both of them said at the same time. They turned back to each other. “So...could I, uh, have your number? Maybe I could come over sometime?” Wolf asked.

“What makes you think I live alone?”

“Nothing! I, uh...I thought...”

“Relax! I was kidding! Here. We should hang out soon,” she said as she wrote down her number and gave it to him.

“Good idea, Katrina.”

“Call me Kat.”

“Huh. Kat and Wolf.”

“Very funny.”

“I try. See you soon?”

“Sounds like a deal.”

They waved goodbye. Wolf walked to the door, but Kat shouted after him. “You need to check out the book before you leave with it!”
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