The Legion Encounters – Part IV
Not So Different
A Legion of Lawndale Heroes 'Mini', featuring The Alliance
Written by Brother Grimace
(NOTE: This fic is part of the 'Judith Strikes!' shared-world
continuity. It takes place at about the same time as LLH 13:9.)
Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.
-Anne Frank
Dear George: Always remember that no man is a failure as long as he has friends! Thanks for the wings!
-
from Frank Capra's It's A Wonderful Life
"You're not supposed to hit girls." David Allen Farrington said, the tone in
his voice kind but firm.
That wasn't enough for the eleven-year-old that sat next to him. "Why not, if
they hit you first?"
David Allen sighed, and took a moment to look around the area from his spot on
the stage of the Kuznov Auditorium – because of circumstances (namely, having
lost a bet), the place where he and a fellow Cadet First Class were having
their weekly 'campfire'.
"You're not supposed to hit girls – and you're not supposed to make fun of
them, either. It's the way things are."
The boy persisted. "Why?"
An exasperated sigh escaped from David Allen. "Because."
The kid just wouldn't quit. "Why?"
David Allen looked at the kid – God, was I ever that small, or this
annoying? – as he held his hand to his forehead. "Okay, there are a few
reasons why you shouldn't," he spoke up. "First – because it's not right.
Second - because hitting someone is a LOT of demerits. It means that you get
serious punishment detail, too, and let's see – what else?"
Looking around the circle of nine eleven-year-old boys - each wearing the
uniform of USAES First Academy cadets (white uniform shirts and jet
black slacks with baby-blue striping on the outside of the legs) as they sat on
the stage, David Allen trundled on. "Well, you like getting that four-hour
block of free time on Sunday, after chapel services, right? Extra ice cream and
cupcakes, a GOOD movie on that 400-inch screen TV, and you get to wear civvies...
One little girl starts crying because you put your paw on her, and that all
goes away for a few weeks."
The young cadet looked as if he were about to cry. "You'd do that because some
girl hits me and I hit her back? You're mean!"
The other young cadets all grumbled their agreement, and David Allen felt the
touch of a telepathic signal brush against his conscious mind. +Damn,
Farrington – they're still little kids – more that than cadets at the moment,+
the voice spoke clearly into his mind. +They're not programmed yet for
constant rules the way you were when you came in. Tell them about the good
things that come from being nice to little girls when you're a kid yourself.+
[Some of us weren't always trying to get some girl off alone – 'Chaser',]
David Allen mentally returned. [Some of us were concerned about more
important things – like learning how to stay in control.]
On the other side of the circle, Jackson Chaisson - a slender, fit young man
with close-cropped black hair who wore the jet-black uniform of the Phantom
Eagles - looked across to his opposite, who wore a dark scarlet uniform
shirt. "Um, Davy – tell them the good things that happen when you don't make
fun of girls, or hit them back when they hit you?"
+Yeah – and how's that 'stay in control' thing working?+ Jackson thought-cast
to his fellow Cadet First Class over his verbal speech. +That's why you
bounced me around the simulators like a beach ball after I asked Julia to come
with me to the Kentucky Derby, back when we were all Fourth Class – and gave
that poor girl the silent treatment for the rest of the year. It's not as if
you can't officially ask her out yourself – and now that she's with the Legion,
you can probably score a nice place to sit at the Preakness next May for the
both of you... unless you'd rather it be Chandni, or Susannah...+
[Telepaths,] David Allen flashed back to Jackson. [Nothing but drama
– and FYI – I already planned to talk with Julia when I run up to D.C. next
week to see my mother. Why am I telling you this?]
+Well, if you'd had the common sense to date another telepath, this wouldn't
be a problem – and it's not as if you don't have... plenty of choices,+
Jackson flashed back, his psi-speech far faster than David Allen's – not
that it matters, he mused, careful to shield his thought from the other
cadet. Bastard's like the psychic version of a hovertank. Slower psi-speech
than almost everyone else here, but far, far better armor, lots of secondary
weapons - and then, he starts shooting with that big gun... + Our
resident hillbilly-girl Destiny wouldn't turn you away if you looked in her
direction – neither would Jordan, Fiona, Chi Ling or even Christine, if you
played it right – and if you're feeling a bit like Captain Jack, you know that
Mike Bethke likes to go watch when you're doing the acrobatics thing... But no
pressure.+
Jackson laughed at the expression on David Allen's face – and his laughter died
in mid-guffaw as a flicker of regret crossed the Black cadet's face. [Chi
Ling. Yeah, like I need to have Yanni-boy pissed at me for yet another
thing I've supposedly taken that he deserves by right of birth. Why do you
think I never tried out for the Eagles? Can you imagine how people would
treat me if I were in one of those uniforms? No, thank you.]
"I think you can tell the kids the answer to that," David Allen replied. "Tell
them about how you treat girls... or, you could tell them about last year's
Spring Break trip to South Padre Island."
Jackson turned to David Allen with a look cats usually reserve for birds and
rodents. "Why don't we tell them about your week out at Sequoia National Park -
just after Halloween, when we were Second Years?" he chuckled. "Better yet –
why don't we tell a certain number of young women around here, including a
tall redhead, and the hot number who runs the crew I'm with?"
The Black cadet's eyes went wide as Jackson smiled and continued on. "So,
what's this about a necklace of real pearls you've been collecting, and putting
together piece-by-piece since the beginning of First Year-"
"Oh, we're getting real, huh?" David Allen huffed, all the while
thinking This is what happens when you spend ten years with fifty-three
other telepaths - not to mention all of the others in the Academy – the other
cadets, and the ones on the Academy staff. You have to work to keep a secret –
and even then...
He sat up straight. "Ostrich Day - last year. A hot tub - filled with
sparkling mead."
Jackson drew himself up straight. "The day after we graduated from the First
Academy. The Academy woods – in that grove of walnut trees. Paying off the
bet you lost – remember?"
The younger cadets watched, smirking at the impromptu show (of course, even
little kids gossip, so they knew things already) as the Deputy Cadet
Commander-of-Corps cracked his knuckles.
"Nothing happened - much - and you know it," David Allen shot back. "The day
you left for your internship year – in the Commandant's office – in the
Commandant's own chair."
Jackson wasn't about to quit. "Last year. Maine. Beachfront
property. The afternoon of that big storm."
David Allen pointed an accusing finger. "That doesn't count. I didn't
have a choice. You know the rules don't allow us to use our powers when it
isn't life-of-death."
The Phantom Eagle scoffed. "Yeah, well, someone who wants to be a doctor
shouldn't have needed that long to perform mouth-to-mouth."
David Allen laughed in his face. "This from the future Secret Service agent who
took two hours to learn the proper way to put handcuffs on a subject? Strange,
until you find out the instructor who helped you after hours got second
runner-up in the Miss America pageant?"
"That's always been your problem - Pins," a familiar voice rang out, and
the group turned as one to see the young woman in red cloak and catsuit as she
walked down the main aisle, her gait casual. "You're always so – judgmental.
It's why you have problems around people – why they're always on pins and
needles around you. Isn't that why all your little rich friends always called
you 'Pins'?"
All of the young Cadets Sixth Year backed up slightly as David Allen turned to
the front of the stage, his eyes growing cold. "Don't call me that."
Jackson smiled as he watched the young woman's smooth gait as she came closer
to the stage. "Hey, isn't she that Daria Morgendorffer chick who did the poster
last year-"
"DON'T CALL ME 'DARIA!"
Jackson's comment was cut off in mid-sentence as the woman punctuated her
scream of rage with a white-hot energy bolt from the energy weapon that she
drew in a blink of an eye from nowhere – a bolt that lifted the cadet off his
stool and threw him a good ten feet backstage!
The young woman reached the stage. "My name is Judith," she said,
the evil looking weapon rock-steady in her grasp as she pointed it at David
Allen. "I need to have a word with you."
Seven bolts of energy, each one exactly identical to the one Judith's weapon
fired, speared out from backstage, poised to punch directly into her left eye –
but the line of energy bolts actually stopped an inch from her face, suspended
in an aura of blue light. "Nice shooting," she snarked, tilting her head
slightly to see Jackson emerge from backstage, his uniform undamaged, with both
eyes and all ten fingernails glowing with the same energy that Judith's weapon
fired. "Good accuracy. Now you die."
A cocoon of energy began to swirl around Jackson as the glow in his eyes grew
bright enough to light up the stage. "Ladies first," he growled.
"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" David Allen barked off, his mental shield now active, the
younger cadets safe inside as he stepped into the line of fire. "Cadet Chaisson
– escort the Sixth Years back to Centurion Hall, and apprise the Commandant's
Office of the situation here."
"David Allen-" Jackson blurt out.
"Cadet Captain Chaisson, you have your orders!" David Allen spoke sharply. "I
have the situation under control."
Derek gave him a glare of sharpened steel as the glow faded. "Yes, sir. Cadre –
fall in."
"Oh, brave boy," Judith purred, as an opening appeared in the back of the force
field; Jackson herded the wide-eyed tweens off stage quickly as David Allen
never took his eyes from her. "Can you make all those cadets sit up, roll over
and fetch your bone?"
"If you were anyone else, I'd turn you into steam and ant food," the Black
cadet replied. "But I know that I can't touch you – that nobody
can touch you with a hand towards stopping you – and that you have to escape
with your prize. My mother told me all about you."
Judith raised the hood of her cloak, and David Allen looked into the eyes of an
exact duplicate of Daria Morgendorffer. "Good," she said. "Then you know what I
can do to this place – and to you – if you don't give me what I came
for. Now."
David Allen looked at Judith as if she were fresh guano on his polished shoes.
"The Daria Morgendorffer of this reality is a world-class metahuman.
She's one of the five strongest primary telepaths on the planet right now, and
she fought me to a standstill in full-on mental combat. If she were more
experienced or I wasn't sneaky, she'd have probably cleaned my clock."
He took several steps towards the front of the stage and stood over Judith. "You...
are a malignant little girl with enough issues to start your own reading room,
a problem with your own reflection, and a rep as the Multiverse's newest
doorknob. Even with what you did on The Habitat – or more to the point,
because of it - the High Council of the Arete sends you this message:
'We are not impressed'."
Her eyes suddenly filled with icy rage, Judith drew a volleyball-sized metal
sphere from within her cloak. "This is a Blinovitch reversal sphere
– set with a fifteen-mile effect radius. You know what that'll do, smart-ass?"
David Allen nodded. "Yes, I know. Jeffrey's got all of the New Universe
comic books in his collection. I know the story of The Pitt."
Judith's voice was a defiant snarl. "Impressed now, fancy boy with two first
names?"
The cadet shook his head. "By someone who can kill a million people without
trying, or trying to make fun off my name? Lady, I could do the former when I
was five - that's the reason I was placed here in the first place - and
I've been verbally abused by people doing the latter who drew a salary
for doing it."
Biting back both the urge to curse and to castrate the young man in front of
her with her toenails, Judith let her eyes fall upon the digital watch-like
device that David Allen wore on his left wrist. "Your Mark 31, please.
Before you make me angry."
"No." David Allen told her, as he pulled a small jewelry box from a pocket in
his slacks. "This is what you came for, and what you have to leave with.
The only thing you have to leave with."
Judith caught the box in her left hand; as she opened the box to see what was
inside, David Allen saw the cloak shift slightly, revealing the
slightly-grotesque sight of a locket embedded in the skin below her neck, just
above the distracting sight of her cleavage.
"So, this is why your Earth didn't get scorched by Van Mannen's Star,"
she said. "Nice."
"Adriaan's Eye," David Allen told the woman, as she looked at the
translucent globe the size of a 'shooter' marble. "All the power of a supernova
detonation, and its potential effects upon a solar system... rolled up in a tiny
sphere."
The young woman's head shot up in actual surprise. "The entire solar system?
You mean - your people didn't just save the Earth?"
Judith blinked again – and then, looked up, a crafty look on her face. "So,
soldier boy... just how many Eyes are there?"
The cadet remained silent. "Fine," she snapped. "I'll find out for myself,
thank you very much. That fancy regulator. Get it off your wrist. Now."
"No." David Allen stepped off the stage, and landed in front of Judith. "If you
want something from me, though – I'll give you something that you want."
He looked down, and Judith felt actual surprise that she was offended by the
way he stared at her chest – until she realized that he was looking at the
locket embedded in her flesh. "The only thing that you want."
"I've read up on you, Farrington," she said. "The 'meaningful stare' - that's
your twin's thing, isn't it?"
"If Colin were here – well, that's another story," David Allen sighed. "Oh, and
I wouldn't visit him at the HIVE. They're not as friendly there as we
are. As I was saying – I can give you the one thing you want."
He held out his left
hand. "Take my hand."
Judith looked down at the extended hand. "Are you
insane? Are you really that fucking past all common sense?"
The cadet smiled – a response that would have shocked most of the individuals
who knew him, or scared them. "Are you afraid of me? Are you really so afraid
of what I can do to you?"
The young woman looked at him with total contempt, and turned away. "Be
thankful that I don't kill you where you stand. I know how to deal with
telepaths."
"You see, that's one big misunderstanding that everyone has about me," David
Allen said, straightening his tie. "One thing that 'mundanes' don't really get
is that not all of us are alike – they think that all people with psi-powers
are alike."
"You all die just the same," Judith huffed, thinking 'Why don't I just kill
this bastard and just go?'
"Because a part of you really is curious," he said, holding out his hand. I'm
not a primary telepath like Daria, or the other Class Fives here – I'm a
primary empath. Let me show you a different way."
He extended his hand further. "Trust me."
For some strange reason, Judith reached out and grasped the extended hand-
David Allen found his astral self beside Judith's translucent form, as they
both viewed a moment out of Judith's life:
"So what – you gonna make a scene about us being in here?" Judith said,
giving the manager a cool stare as several Lawndale High students fled from the
Good Time Chinese restaurant, most not even bothering to leave in their
cars.
"No," the manager said, bringing them a basket filled with crab rangoon, won
ton, and miniature spring rolls. "What you do and who you do it with is your
own business. This is on the house – for your trouble."
"What's this supposed to be – a cheap bribe, to keep the gays from starting up
trouble?" Jane growled. "Okay – more trouble?"
The manager – an overweight Black man in his fifties with a perpetually sad
look in his eyes, held up his left hand. "What do you see on this hand,
ladies?"
Judith and Jane shrugged and said as one, "Nothing."
The manager nodded. "That's right. Nothing. No wedding ring. That means I'm not
married, and I don't have kids. That means I don't have anyone – and if you
think I'm going to say anything about anyone finding someone who can be happy
with, no matter who they are, so they don't have to feel the way I do every single
day-"
He reached down to sweep the used napkins and packets of sauces off the table
into the small trash can that he held in his other hand. "In my house, what you
do and who you do it with is your own business. That's all I'm saying. You want
to be bitchy to other people – you need to find another reason here, besides
who you're with."
The universe shifted about them both is a psychotic moment of shifting images;
and they were looking down at a crying African-American child in a crib, as
four persons moved close.
One of the four, a slinky, distractingly beautiful brunette in her early
twenties, spoke in a voice that screamed 'country girl' as her irises began to
glow bluish white. [Don't worry, little David,] she thought-cast to the
child, barely a week old. [We're not going to hurt you. Just go to sleep,
and dream of warm blankets, dream of your belly being full, and your mommy
holding you. Just go to sleep, little David...]
The four telepaths mindlinked, and as one, they sent a whisper-thin mental
probe into the infant's brain, moving slowly yet gently as they moved to close
of the portions of his mind that allowed him access to his active
psi-abilities-
One of the four telepaths – Judith could feel her mind, her powers, everything
about her pouring away from the now-dying woman, letting go with one unholy
death-scream as she exploded into a blue-white human bonfire as the child's
eyes suddenly flared to life in bluish light...
Sujata Varma. She was twenty-six years old, and was the second youngest
daughter of the Deputy Security Director for Asia. She asked to be part of the
binding ceremony because she was very good with children, and had helped in the
binding ceremonies of over two thousand children in the years since her powers
had been unbound at age seventeen. She was a nanny by profession, and more than
anything else, wanted her own family. Her primary power was telepathy, but at
an unusually low communication speed...
One of the men died next, exploding into several body fragments that caught
fire...
Robert Berg. He was twenty-one years old, a graduating senior and
fourth-generation student at Princeton University – and would never know that
his fiancé, who he had planned to marry a year from his graduation date, was
carrying his daughter. A primary empath – and the first psionic healer that the
Elite had seen in a generation, not to mention the most powerful one they had
seen in over two centuries - Robert was the first member of the family in four
generations to be allowed access to his powers. This was his first inclusion in
a Binding Ceremony.
The other woman simply dropped to the floor as if she were a marionette with
its strings all suddenly severed; she lay there, twitching, her mind gone, and
her body simply running on automatic pilot...
Carey Phillips-Bethke. Twenty years old, and the newlywed bride of Magnus
Bethke, the Executive Director for North America. The most powerful empath the
Elite had seen in a thousand years, with such power and control over her
abilities that she could manipulate and control the populations of cities, if
need be. She had given birth to her son Mike only two months earlier, on her
family's farm in Kentucky, and was looking forward to a lifetime of her
children (she wanted a houseful of kids, to make up for being an only child) on
the huge ranch she had talked her husband into buying and living on, despite
his love of the metropolitan lifestyle.
The child turned his attention to the last of his 'attackers'...
Gunther Schultz. Forty years old, he was the head of personal security for the
Executive Director of Eastern Europe. A master of psionic combat, he was also a
primary telepath with a noted skill in shielding; his skill and power allowed
his shields to protect him from even physical and mystic attacks...
He screamed as he was engulfed in fire from all angles, from the physical and
astral plane, unceasing, unholy flame that seemed alive, blowing down his
shields as it drained his powers and tried to consume his life-force...
"Stop."
The flame-effect that surrounded the child's crib ceased immediately as Günter
dropped to one knee, fighting back blinding pain as he looked at his left arm,
now blackened and charred; fighting to stay conscious, he watched as Cassandra
Farrington, wearing the uniform of a U.S. Navy commander, had rushed into the
room (followed by a swarm of others) and had gone to her child's crib...
I hope they kill that little monster, Günter thought, before the pain
mercifully took him into darkness...
Judith cringed as the blurring of images took them flashing into her mind once
more...
"You didn't have to introduce all of them to 'Clownie', Jane," Judith said,
looking slightly sick and yet still impressed at he way Jane had come into the
LHS football team's locker room to rescue her and make short work of the three
player before they could gang-rape Judith 'in order to make her straight
again'. "My God – they've all gone catatonic..."
"Who knows, Daria?" Jane said, smiling as she stomped on the still-twitching
hand of a player – almost as an afterthought. "Maybe they'll live to spend the
rest of their lives shitting in bedpans and eating through tubes. It's actually
more than they deserve."
"Just – just leave them alone," Judith said, rolling up her black t-shirt (torn
from her by one of the players) and putting it in her jacket pocket before
zipping the jacket up. "Hold on a moment," Jane said, lowering the zipper down
enough so that Judith's cleavage could be seen. "Hmm... I like that look. We'll
have to remember that for another time."
"When some freaks haven't been listening to that hardass O'Neill about
'traditional family values' in the books he wants people to read." Judith
snarled. "That dumb bastard is the only person too stupid to get that he should
back off – no, he thinks that if he force-feeds us 'the right books' – he can
'change us to what women are supposed to be'. I'm really starting to dislike
him."
"I can't believe he called me a 'clam-diving circus freak' in his 'Self-Esteem'
class," Jane echoed. "Someone should teach him that he's not the baddest dude
in the whole damn town..."
The look that appeared on Judith's face effectively killed off the smile that
had begun to creep across Jane's face. "We have got to find you another hobby,
Jane."
The flashing of images continued, despite David Allen's trying to pull out, and
he looked over to see Judith smile wickedly at him...
"David Allen – you know that I know you're in here, so you might as well
come out," the voice of a little girl said, and she opened the door to the
closet. "Why are you hiding in here?"
Julia Carlyle, all of ten years old, leaned against the doorframe as David
Allen, dressed in a very nice charcoal-gray suit, wiped his tears away. "What's
wrong? People are wondering where you went – its kind of obvious when your family
has a birthday party for you and your brother, and one of you isn't there!"
"Let Colin have it," David Allen said, his face now impassive." I didn't want
to come back home for this anyway – my mom made me-"
"But she invited all of us in 2996, and we get to spend the weekend here at
your grandmother's mansion," the young girl said, playing with a lock of her
long, scarlet hair. "There's so much to do here – granted, it's not like Mom's
house out in Colorado, or Nana Miranda's place in the Hamptons, but-"
"Let's sneak off and go hang out there," the boy blurted out suddenly. "Either
one. They won't miss me –I only come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas,
anyway – and I'm never coming back here after today. I hate it when he comes
around. I hate him so much..."
"That Tom Sloane?" Julia's face turned into a grimace. "Little Mister Perfect?
He's a goat turd – he thinks that he's so cute and he's so special – like your
family and mine can't both buy his family and give them away!"
David Allen looked up. "Don't you mean 'buy them and sell them'?"
Julia flipped her hair back. "No. Mommy Paige was always into tax stuff before
she became a judge. She always says that you can get tax deductions for giving
some stuff away!"
"What's a 'tax deduction?" David Allen asked.
"I dunno – some money they give you so you can buy school stuff or stuff for a
farm. That's what Sherrie says that her family does when they get one," Julia
answered.
The boy looked down at his highly shined shoes, and a tiny point of pride sliced
through him that he was able to get his own shoes so perfectly shined. "Are you
paying attention to me, Cadet Farrington – or are you still smirking that you
got honors for best uniform presentation for seven weeks in a row?"
"No – he was making fun of me for the way I dressed." came the answer.
"He wishes he could dress that nicely," Julia waved the comment away. "When was
the last time some tailor came to his house from Italy to measure him and fix
his clothes right at his house? Don't even pay any attention to him, David
Allen – he's a jerk face, and he always will be."
"That's one of the things he always reminds everybody of, every time he sees me
or whenever they start talking about me," David Allen said. "He said that the
reason why my mother always calls me by my first and middle name is because I
killed those people when I was little, and they always call mass murderers by
their first and middle names."
He looked done before continuing. "In a way, he's right," David Allen told
Julia. "Mom said that I need to be formal with people, and they need to be
formal with me. She said that I'm the 'Dolphin', or something like that, and
when I grow up, it's going to be very important."
"You being a dolphin?" Julia's eyes grew wide." I didn't know that you could
become a dolphin? That would be cool! You could swim underwater with Zoey, and
the other guys with water powers!"
"I can do that already, if I use my shield - but if I could shape-shift, that
would be another thing that Yaniv would be mad about," David Allen said. "Thank
God he isn't here, too. Him and Tom would be-"
Julia cut him off as she stepped into the closet, and moved David Allen over so
that she could sit beside him on the steamer trunk he was sitting on. "Oh,
screw Yanni-boy! He's a dick! He's a teeny little dick! Both him and Tommy
Sloane are teeny-tiny, eeenie-meanie, beanie-weenie little dicks!"
David Allen almost laughed; Julia smiled as a smile instead managed to work its
way upon her fellow cadet - and friend's – face. "Stop saying stuff like that,
Julia" he told the redhead. "That's why you already have so many demerits."
"No, that's how come I had so many demerits," she replied. "I always
ask if I can march them off like the older students, and they let me. This way,
I get to be in better shape than everybody, I get a rep as a 'bad girl' – which
means that people are gonna stay out of my face – the teachers also know that
I'm ready to take my punishment without whining - and do you know all of the
gossip I get to hear when I'm on punishment march? The stuff that goes on
'across the alley' in the Elite Academy will blow your mind... and if you want, I
heard things about your mentor with the 'Lord of the Rings' first name..."
David Allen's mind flashed to Eowyn LaSalle – a Cadet Second Class, she was the
current ranking psi-active cadet (or 'Esper Prime'), and his 'psionic peer
mentor' from the Elite Academy since last year. "Do you want to know what I
heard about what you and her are supposed to do when you become a First Year?"
Trying not to think about some of the stories that he had already heard – and
grateful for the ever-present inhaler of 'flush' in his pocket, which he was
using during his home visit – David Allen grunted off an unintelligible reply.
Julia smiled; she put her head on David Allen's shoulder, and looked up at him
with 'puppy-dog eyes'. "Don't you want me to tell me things, David
Allen?"
Her smile grew broader as David Allen rolled his eyes. "If I had a pie, I'd hit
you with it," he said. "You're annoying."
"Yes, but at least I'm not trying to climb all over you right now," the girl
said, swinging her feet innocently back and forth. "Oh, and if that was a lemon
meringue pie, you'd better just give it to me. That would be a waste of good
pie."
"It's only a waste because you won't share," he shot back. "Just because you
never gain weight, no matter how much you eat – climb all over me?"
"Like your groupies," the redhead giggled. "If Leda, or Susannah, or that yucky
ol' Sidney Simon was here right now, they'd be trying to go all 'kiss-kiss' all
over the place!"
"Sidney's my friend, just like you – and we're both in acrobatics," David Allen
pointed out. "You could do that instead of the beauty pageants."
"Nope," Julia said. "I know I'm prettier than all of these other girls – and I
like the pageants because all of the tiaras prove it. Let Sidney and those
other sticks and losers who are always trying to kiss you say that."
"Who's talking about kissing?" a familiar – and annoying – voice came from the
hallway – and before either cadet could rise, a young Tom Sloane came through
the door of David Allen's room, a posse of seven or eight kids behind him to
act as his 'audience'. "Oh, look – I told you, see? If 'Milky' disappears -
just look for 'Pins', and there she is!" So – what's going on in the closet,
Pins?"
"Go away, Tommy," David Allen said, and winced at the sound of his voice
shifting tone. Stupid puberty." This is my room. It's private."
"Oh, you two want to be alone," Tom snickered, drawing laughs from the others.
"Pins and Milky, sitting in the' - hey, what goes with that? 'Closet' doesn't
rhyme?"
An attractive girl about Tom's age with Latin features spoke up. "Well, a'
pantry' is like a closet, except you put food in one and clothes in the other..."
Tom's face perked up. "Thanks, Natalia!"
Another boy – this one closer to David Allen's age, and obviously of Mexican
descent, put a hand on Tom's shoulder. "You've teased him enough, Tom – and
this is his room. Leave him alone in his room."
"I'll do whatever I want, 'Gringo'," Tom said, and Tomas Villicana gave the
younger boy a cool look before glancing into the closet and seeing Julia's
fists ball up.
"Fine," he conceded, looking past Tom to David Allen and Julia. "I'll go and
get some cake."
"Little sissy wannabe," Tom taunted, as Villicana left the room. "Oh, yeah –
'Pins and Milky, sitting in the pantry, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love-"
Her voice so low that only David Allen could hear her speak, Julia whispered,
almost to herself, "You made my friend cry..."
Tom barely saw the red streak that catapulted itself from out of the closet,
and he never saw the punch that knocked him out...
David Allen looked back in Judith's direction:
Judith saw the looks on the faces of Sandi Griffin and Tiffany Blum-Deckler
as they tried to have a conversation with a man who, Judith, admitted to
herself, was the most attractive man that she had ever seen in her life.
"Good evening, ladies," the man said, with a cultured Southern accent that she
knew that she'd remember for a long time to come. "What can I do for you?"
Sandi brushed her hair back with her hand. "We saw you the other day with
someone who is really, like, not suited for you? She has a reputation for being
really, really unfashionable."
"Yeah," said Tiffany. "Unfashionable."
Judith watched as the man raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he said. "What makes you so
sure that this person I was with when you first laid eyes on me is so unsuited
for me?"
"Well, isn't it obvious?" said Sandi. "You are obviously a man of taste. Surely
you would rather be seen with a woman of similar taste?"
"I see," the man said, looking past the pair as he spoke to someone behind
them. "Do you think that I should be seen with a woman of similar tastes,
Daria?"
Judith almost burst out laughing as the pair turned around. There, standing
before them, dressed in a manner that suited her down to the ground, and which
matched the man perfectly, was this world's Daria. In her hands she had a paper
bag, and she was giving the two young women a flat, emotionless stare. "Hello,
Sandi, Tiffany," she said in her usual flat semi-monotone.
"I take it you know these young ladies?" the man asked.
"You could say that," Daria said. "They were part of a clique that was called
'The Fashion Club' at Lawndale High."
She walked past the pair and sat down next to the man as he cocked an eyebrow.
"'Fashion Club'?" he asked.
"They obsessed over fashion and being fashionable," Daria said. "Quinn was a
member until they disbanded in my senior year."
"Intriguing," the man murmured, as he looked at Daria, with suppressed
amusement rippling through his voice. "You haven't answered my question,
though."
Daria looked at the man, and then looked at Sandi and Tiffany. "Well, I suppose
it is only fair that you should be with someone who has the same tastes as you
do," she replied. "What do you look for in a woman?"
"Well," the man responded, "I look for a woman who is articulate, intelligent,
educated, has her own views on things and can make me laugh. It also helps if
she is good looking."
He looked Sandi and Tiffany over. "Do either of you think you fulfill the
criteria?"
"Surely you're not looking for a brain?" Sandi asked.
"It does make matters much easier if she has one and knows how to use it," the
man said, as he looked at Daria, taking her right hand in his and gently
squeezing it. "One gets pretty tired pretty quickly, talking only about
fashion, and idle gossip... no danger of that here."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," Daria responded, as she leaned over to kiss
the man - a kiss that continued for quite some time and actually impressed
Judith (who was cloaked in a second 'one-shot glamour' that made her appear as
a Latino girl of average looks) as she sat across from Daria and her 'suitor' –
reluctantly, Judith admitted that no other description fit the gentleman
better.
Reluctantly, Daria and the man disengaged - and then looked at Sandi and
Tiffany; Daria had a faint smirk on her lips while the man simply raised one
eyebrow.
Tiffany looked as vacuous as ever, but Sandi Griffin had a look on her face
that combined shock with outrage. She looked from Daria, to the man, and back
to Daria; her mouth worked, but nothing (or at least, nothing intelligible)
came out.
Finally, Sandi stormed off, with Tiffany trailing in her wake.
I think that I'll let this one live, Judith said, as she watched the man with
her. If she can hold onto a man like that, she'll cause more pain and suffering
among the people around here than I could ever manage, no matter how I killed
her. Seeing those two together, every single day – and better yet, if something
happens and they do break up, the pain and suffering the bitches here are going
to put each other through as they fight to have him notice them – and even
better, how they'll act when they realize that none of them are good enough to
get him...
Yeah. If nothing else, for that kiss, you get to live. It reminds me of the one
real kiss that I got to have with Trent...
Judith's eyes blinked clear as David disengaged from the mind-link. "So?" she
asked, looking at her hand before she snatched it away from the cadet's grasp.
"What was all that for?"
"I thought that you would understand," David Allen told her. "You have done
evil – great evil. You've done things that you will someday have to pay for –
but if you want redemption, if you want to be forgiven for what you've done -
then you have to stop doing these things. You can make a choice, Judith – you
can choose not to hurt anyone else. You've done that once before – at least once
before – and you can choose to stop altogether."
Judith growled as David Allen continued on. "You can choose not to do what
you've been doing - and you have to start by letting go of all of the hurt you
have inside yourself," he said. "Not everyone is going to hate you on
sight. Not everyone wants to see you dead. You can stop what's happening. You
can stop. You can start onto a new path, and you can start by letting go of the
anger you have inside you, and by forgiving yourself."
He stepped closer to her. "Look around you, Judith. What do you see?"
Judith looked around, and turned back to David Allen with derision seeping from
her every pore.
"I don't care how far inside my head you go," Judith replied, snapping back
with all the ferocity of someone feeling the blade cutting too close to the
truth. "Before you try preaching all of this, why don't you try following your
own advice? Despite what a bleeding-heart – empath - like you may choose
to believe about me or what I am - I made my own choices. You
were only a week old when those people died – and by the way, only two of them
died, not all four, in case you didn't notice - and you're carrying that around
like a modern-day Atlas."
She stepped up to him, totally unafraid. "Nobody told me that I'd get to play a
role in the origin story of 'Captain Save-A-Ho', trying to rescue a 'soiled
dove' from the darkness," she scoffed. "Before you start trying to get other
people to change – why don't you start by forgiving yourself, and
letting someone into your own life? What makes you think that you're so much
better – or better off - than me? What makes you think you're any
different than me, anyway? Do you even have any remote idea why your
precious Alliance was created in the first place?"
David Allen actually flinched as Judith looked him directly in the eye and
bellowed, "Before you try to tell anybody how to be a better person - why
don't you go tell that redhead how much you actually care about her, go off
somewhere and just be a normal guy for a day or two before all you ever can
be is an army robot that only knows how to take orders and live for
everyone else?"
Both Judith and David Allen stepped back, slightly confused by what had just
been said. "Did I just give you good advice?" the young woman said, taking
several steps further from him.
As soon as the words came from Judith's mouth, David Allen heard a pair of
voices clearly in his mind's eye:
//Third Eagle to War Chief. I'm in the room. The Prime's clear of the
kill-zone. \\
#War Chief to Frost King – the Prime is clear. Request instructions.#
A brief pause. #Confirmed. Eagle - pull Prime clear. I'll take her.#
[Damnit, people, stand down-!]
Without thinking, David looked in Judith's direction; his telekinetic power
went flex-.
Judith flew, screaming, off to one side just as several tightly-focused pulses
of super-heated plasma seared through the air – but she went careening into the
wall at the back of the stage as the green bolts detonated on contact with the
floor and several seats, the concussion of the blasts also sending burning
shrapnel flying across the area!
#What the hell did you just do, Prime?# a voice stabbed into his head. #Eagle
– fry that bitch!#
David Allen had barely begun to turn when a figure in tactical body armor appeared
out of nowhere in the center aisle! He threw up his shields to protect his eyes
as a blinding stream of lightning exploded from the figure's hands-
-Lightning that exploded all around and over the shield that had formed around
Judith's form, now lying on the stage.
"Don't move or you're dead!"
Before David Allen could speak, over forty persons appeared in the auditorium –
some teleporting, some shifting in through dimensional travel, some appearing
in various energy forms before they returned to human form – each of them
keeping a respectable distance as they trained their weapons on Judith. "Put
your hands out where we can see them!" shouted the figure who had fired the
lightning. "Do it NOW!"
Twitching in obvious pain from the plasma burns on her right side, Judith
turned to face the figure; her eyes brushed across David Allen momentarily
before she locked on her assailant. "G-g-go... fuck... yourself."
David Allen looked around the auditorium, and then turned to Judith. [Remember
this for later, Judith,] he thought-cast to the girl. [Look around you.
That's why I'm different than you.]
In the moment before she disappeared in a flack of blue light, David Allen saw
Judith hold out her right hand, a smile of triumph on her face. "Oh, no," he
said, looking down at his wrist and wincing as he saw that his Mark 31
psi-augmenter was missing. "You light-touched, cat-suited little bitch," he
breathed out, as the armored figure walked over, raising the visor on his
helmet to reveal that it was Franklin Davers inside, wearing the jet-black
uniform of a Phantom Eagle. "Enjoy roasting someone with that Force
lightning of yours, Davers?
"Well, someone had to save you from the evil Daria Morgendorffer," the handsome
Cadet First Class smirked, touching a button on his neck that caused his
'flash-armor' – armor that was created from his own psi-powers and provided
more protection than a light tank – to fold away into 'hammerspace'. "Besides, 'Ostrich
Day' is not too far off - and I want you alive and healthy for the fun."
Amorette Molyneux – the Phantom Eagles' 'War Chief '(the term they used
for the commander of the elite cadre) appeared in a flash of pink light as she
transitioned out of her energy path-form. "What the hell did you save her for,
Prime?" the French-Canadian beauty seethed, shouldering her high-powered plasma
rifle as she got right up in David Allen's face. "I had orders to take her
out!"
"I had orders to let her get away with what she came for, Molly!" he snapped
right back; he had learned long ago that the only way to deal with her was to
give back as good as she gave out. "Trust me – you don't want to think about
what would have happened if you had actually come close to killing her."
"Fine," she snapped back. "The commandant wants to see you anyway for
debriefing – and I heard that your mother's on her way, too."
The look on David Allen's face made Jefferson laugh outright and Amorette's
mood instantly soften. "Your mommy's a three-star – that probably means that
you'll get your pick of assignments when we graduate in June."
"Not to mention that when she shows up, she'll probably bring you some new
underwear and take you out to dinner – and maybe, she'll let you order off the
grown folks' menu!" Jefferson guffawed, laughing harder at the expression David
Allen gave him. "I saw the way you were looking at our guest's tight little
rack – I think we all know that you're a 'big boy', now!"
David Allen flicked him on the head with his forefinger. "Okay, Mayflower –
let's see how much you laugh after we play some 'CKC' and you end up in a
closet with Mike Bethke or Chi Ling for a few minutes."
Jefferson's laugh cut off immediately, and David Allen realized the auditorium
had gotten quiet; he looked around to see that more of the USAES Marine Corps
guard detail were now in the auditorium, along with the forty-some figures, who
were all Phantom Eagles in tactical armor – and all were standing
silently with looks of disbelief on their faces. "Oh, come on!" David Allen
exclaimed. It's not as if I don't try to do things with other people!"
"Did your mind-link with 'Catsuit Barbie' fog your brain?" Jefferson snickered.
"We all know you, David Allen. It's a minor miracle when you do anything social
that doesn't involve you being dragged out kicking and screaming by either
someone Alliance, your cute little padawan Daniella, or
Eowyn dragging you out when you were her padawan."
"Well, maybe its time for a bit of a change," the Esper Prime said,
nodding more to himself than to the others. "After all – today, I just got a
good piece of advice."
David Allen turned to Amorette. "Molly – stay with the Marines and help secure
the area. Jefferson - lead on. The Commandant's probably got a lot of questions
for me."
END