Beaming down from the desolate shadows of an empty dark room, a single light spots down upon the deeply coveted stone of psychic potential; its cracked glass casing glistening against the descending glow.
âThe psychic stone. An artifact capable of unlocking the true potential of oneâs own mind, bestowing those blessed in its glow an incredible power the likes of which are capable of transforming our very world.â
Stepping out from among the dark, the violet psychic, plastered in gauze and a couple of casts, swipes the precious babble off the table and admires the little rock encased within, celebrating of how:
âAnd its back in our clutches. Back from the bowels of the mobâs stomach. I mean, its kinda worse for wear. But hell, nothing but a little spit shine and glue canât fix. What matters is that its in our little corner of town.â
In the blink of an eye is the surrounding void cast away as several more light fixtures overhead illuminate; Wedsle covering his eyes from the invasive glow as heâs revealed to be standing in one of their hideouts offices. Gazing to the other side of the brightly lit space, the purple psychic discovers Frida standing next to the light switch, retracting her finger away from the flip switch to ask:
âAll great wins. Hooray for us. Now what?â
âAinât it obvious. We use the stone to power up and overthrow the bosses.â
And how you suppose we make that play out?â
âWellâŠumâŠâ
âYou even have a plan?â
âShut the fuck up! Iâm work shopping one.â exclaims Wedsle.
âDo you even know how weâre supposed to power up with that pebble? Hell, do you even know how you did it?â further questions Frida.
âUhâŠa bolt came out from the crack and shocking me in the head. Next thing I knew, I had one of the worst migraines in my life. Worse than any hangover I felt after a wild night at a swingers party.â
âGross.â
âAny who, I couldnât tell ya what got it this little mcguffin to spark. Couldâve been anything for all I know. Either way, just being out of the mobâs hands is an advantage enough. Better off not having anymore of those bastards being boosted.â
Its then that the door leading out from the small office space suddenly bursts open, Thursotte leaping out from the illuminated hall on the other side with exasperation painted across his face.
âGuys, you two ainât gonna believe what I just found out; youâre gonna wanna come and see this.â he urges.
Gathering beside the chaos triggering psychic, Frida, Weds, and Tuesco watch as Thurs sits staring at the monitor of a computer; the screen displaying a myriad of locked files and documents upon looking through.
âThis is about as much data as the thumb drive I plugged into the laboratoryâs server got. Most of it is encrypted, but I did manage to scope out some files that werenât.â he elaborates.
âYou managed to keep that? Thought the doc wouldâve swiped it back the moment you got caught.â the purple psychic wonders.
âI figured the same thing, which is why I put it somewhere him or his drones wouldnât have thought to look.â
âWhere would you even keep it?â Tuesco canât help but wonder.
âLetâs just say that when you spend a couple of months in prison, you tend to pick up some tricks you wanna use when sneaking stuff around; preferably if its isnât something bigger than a couple inches in diameter.â
âWhat does that uh evenâŠâ
âHeâs talking about using his prison wallet.â answers Wedsle.
âEw.â
âWhatâs a prison wallet?â they all suddenly hear an adolescent voice ask, the trio glancing back to find the Sunny standing right behind them.
To the young sound controlling kidâs innocent wonder, a devious smile stretches across the violet psychic cheeks; proclaiming that:
âIâm gonna tell him.â
âYou better not.â Tues threatens.
âWhat are you all even talking about?â
âWe are about to review what was on copied on the thumb drive.â Thurs gets them all back on track with.
âOoh, can I see.â the boy pleads.
âThurs?â the air crystallizing psychic wonders, looking to the young man.
âMeh, all the files we can browse through right now are nothing but documents. Nothing graphic or anything.â
âAw, boring.â
âWell, you might find it all a little less boring when I pull up the visitation records the docâs been keeping.â mentions Thurs, turning right back to the computer monitor.
Displayed on the screen be a full spreadsheet documenting showing a list of months followed by a slew of numbers, each of them categorized from intrusions, meetings, and abductions. Scrolling down near the bottom of the list, the jinx triggering psychic points to a 5 put underneath intrusions.
âSee this? The server jotted the five of us down not long after we broke into the lab. Assuming no one else didnât stumble in there by accident, then this list should be accurate.â
âThere a point to showing us this?â wonders Wedsle.
âLook just a month back. Under meetings.â
Thursotte hovers the mouse over the very spot he brings attention to, the square standing between last month and how many visited.
â4? Guess we werenât the only oneâs making a clinical visit.â Frida figures.
âQuestion is who would even willingly go down to that metal factory of nightmares?â
âAre you for fucking real?â Wedsle then butts in with.
âCome again?â
âAll this time, we thought December was nothing but some shitty urban barrel fire tale told to make lackeys piss themselves. The only people who knew he was real without a doubt were the same oneâs he worked under. Who else could it be?â
âThe bosses!? If they went down there while they still had the stoneâŠOh god.â shutters Thurs.
âBut who were their plus oneâs? Doubt theyâd just lead anyone down there.â questions Frida.
âI got a couple of ideas, but canât be too sure. There anything else you dug up about this, Thurs?â
âNothing thatâs unencrypted. Without some way to break the locked files, this is about as much as we can view.â
âDammit! It ainât like any of us are that tech savvy either. If we canât access the data. We canât tell what their next movesâll be. Weâd just be taking pot shots in the dark.â Tuesco summarizes
âNone of us can crack this code, but I know somebody who could.â assures Wedsle.
âWhat the- when did you evenâŠIf you knew someone like that, why didnât you say anything before?â questions Thursotte.
âBecause their anonymity was a priority, had to be with all the info theyâve been shoveling through; scooping up bits of handy intel in between the piles of cow shit. Plus, that theyâre not exactly the action type; theyâre more of an informant than a fighter.â
âInformatio- Hang on. Was this the masked guy you had us meet with in that art museum?â Thurs points out.
âThe same. While we were all gallivanting through the city like a bunch of drunk collage dropouts, they weâre behind the scenes practically navigating our cobbled together vessel of criminal antics. How you think we figured where our little living megaphone was camping out?â confirms Weds, scuffling the sound controlling kidâs hair.
âOf course, with how dangerous things are gonna get out there. I say its time we bring the bitch of a sniffer dog in.â
âSo, how are we gonna meet up with them?â wonders Frida.
âWe arenât. But one of us will.â
âThe heck does that mean?â follows Thursotte.
âWith how dangerous gathering info about the mob was, their identity and whereabouts were top shit. They find out where or who they were, the syndicate wouldnât waste anytime putting them down and shutting them up.
Which is why I had them take so many measures, and why I plan on sending someone to meet them with; somebody theyâll know for sure is with us.â
âAnd, who do you have in mind?â the dimensional psychic asks, a little smirk forming across the side of Wedsle face.
Reverberating out from one of the safe houseâs bedrooms be the grungy, repetitive guitar strums of a slow song coming from Satetteâs phone; the lively psychic herself left simply laying in her bed to vaguely stare into the darkness that encompass her quarters. Mellow guitar strums and blinking shadows are all that she can bring herself to process among drowning in a swirling froth of ennui, rubbing the properly patched up wound where her arm used to be. As she lies buried deep among the mind numbing gloom, a regrettable sigh canât help but escape from her; a sign of how she wonders why she continues, despite how much she lost.
Quite frankly demolishing this depressing respite, the door leading out of the bedroom suddenly busts down against the encompassing might of the purple psychicâs ass kicking foot; the unexpected break in causing Sat to fumble right off the side of her bed.
Letting himself in, Wedsle starts to constantly flip the light switch on and off as he loudly blares out:
âWakey wakey, eggs and bakey, bitches. Time to make like a slick backed pimps cash cow, climb out from the cesspit of pity parties and get yer ass back out in the streets!â
âAgh, Weds!? You couldnât have at least knocked?â
âThe otherâs tried knocking for your unresponsive short term depressive labia for the past few days without so much as a peep. Figure Iâd skip the formality and skip straight to dragging you outta this nest of pathetic sadness.â
âNo, thanks. Iâm not in the mood.â grumbles Satette, crawling back onto her bed.
A small sigh seeps out from his mouth as Wedsle approaches the bed to sit on the side, resting his palm atop the young womanâs shoulder and consoling how:
âLook, I can see what youâre going through, taking the L and losing your arm. Feels like the whole world around you is caving in while your left to slowly drown in this bubbling black tar of defeatism. Iâve felt the pools gradual sticky pull more than once, I wonât lie; but there is always a way to swim out from the sadness and wash off the tarry splotches of lingering despair. You wanna know how?â
âHm?â
âIts by getting off your ass and getting out there like a freshly motivated prostitute still humoring future hopes and dreams. Switch that daily dose of depresso for a cool cup columbine coffee, preferably with a dash of sugar and creamer. Just not the kind in the back though, timeâs turn that sweet nectar into chunky custard.â
âHm.â
âBesides, even if you donât wanna, I can just drag you out by the only arm you got left.â
âYou wouldnât.â she finally turns over to him to respond with.
âOh Sat, youâve seen me do way worse.â
This tad bit of persuasion is enough to motivate the lively psychic into climbing out from her bed and stand once more; stretching her arm and legs as she requests:
âJust gimme 10 minutes, kay?â
âAtta girl. Get back out there and kick your depressive episode right in the pussy.â motivates Wedsle, making his way out the bedroom door.
Shutting Satetteâs bedroom door behind him, the purple psychic glances over to find Frida waiting beside the
door; the gun wielding woman worrying
âWeds, you sure the girlâs ready to get back out there?â
âThe informant specifically requested to meet up with her, she has to go.â
âTell that to her crippling depression.â
âTrust me, Frids. When she meets up with out special guest, that frown is gonna turn upside down in the blink of an eye, and maybe then some.â
The dimensional psychic canât help but let a concerning groan slip over Wedsleâs assurance; Weds himself noticing the little signs of anxiety as she turns over Satâs bedroom door.
âDamn, Frida. You seem a little more uncharacteristically anxious than usual. I typically see you saving that sort of helicopter parent shit for Thurs, and even then, it ainât anything like this. Whatâs up?â
âWhat the fu- Nothing. Okay. Fuck off.â
âOh okay, now Iâm starting to get it.â
âThe hell are you talking about.â
âIts practically written all over your face. Youâre upset over Sat losing her arm on your watch, arenât ya?â
Though she didnât wish to display it, her faux indifference was easy to see straight past; the way her eyes trail over to the door.
âHey, donât beat yourself up too hard about it. Ya destroyed the lab, got his files, killed the doc, and got everyone out of there alive. Considering how much you had on your plate, you handled all that pretty damn smoothly.â
âNot as smoothly as I hoped. Everyone got caught cause of my piss poor planning and had to be bailed out by a fucking preteen. If Sunny listened to me and didnât drop in when he did, none of us wouldâve made it out.
Told you I wasnât leader material, and what that girl in there lost proves it.â
âFrids, come on, you-â
Their conversation is suddenly cut short as the door beside them opens up; stepping out from the dark bedroom being the lively psychic, dressed and ready to go.
Not a word is shared between the trio as Satette simply walks right past them; the despondent fog blanketing her pupils making it abundantly clear how utterly defeated she feels. Her dejected display of gloom and doom further lowers Fridaâs spirits; the dimensional psychic seeing first hand how utterly affected by the loss of her friendâs arm was.
âSat, hold upâŠâ Wedsle attempts to stop her with.
Despite in earshot of the purple psychic, his call goes unabated as Sat simply meanders around the corner.
Hoping to salvage what he could out of this depressing circumstance, Weds turns back around to try and heave Frida out from her own funk; yet is left disappointed as he discovers the wall merging psychic having absconded as well.
âFuckin, jeez. Thought one moody woman was enough on my hands, now I got two to deal with.â
Contrasting against the harsh depths of the urban jungle, the towering concrete walls and constant car horn honking are replaced with wide open sky, natural green treeâs, and bird chirps that make up the peaceful vibe of one of the big appleâs suburban Burroughs. The rough apartments of brick and stone cast aside in place of small personal homes; the treeâs and foliage, once suffocating among the pavement, spread more thoroughly among the stretches of house yards lining the suburbs. Hell, there were even some small gardens being cultivated in some of the backyards that could be peeked into.
Strolling along the sidewalk of this stretch of inner city suburban life, Satette peers across the street with the same gloomy gaze she had when leaving the safehouse; the drastic change in her surroundings doing little to quell the crumminess looming over her.
But not everything was as well as this little slice of suburban life would lead you to, for she soon comes upon a young woman walking right by her; the ladyâs tired and pale visage showing her to not be doing so hot.
It felt as if this sickly woman was barely aware of her surroundings as she stumbles around in a dizzying haze, left dressed as if she had just gotten out of bed with nothing but a shirt and some sweatpants on.
Neither of them so much as say a word to one another as they pass by; but something does end up escaping from the womanâs mouth as she suddenly lets out a giant sneeze just a few feet away from the lively psychic, leaving Satette to back away as she lets the lady pass by.
This cautious step back ends up distracting her to not pay attention to a tree planted along the sidewalk, the lively psychic unwittingly gets her foot caught along an exposed root and starts to fumble. Without so much as a thought does she try to save herself by reaching over to the tree standing to her right, yet realizes all too late the lack of her right arm; leaving her to just fall right onto the hard concrete sidewalk.
The obvious pain from the fumble aside, this little screw up is what makes it dawn on her how seldom used to her missing limb she truly was; her own body not even adjusted to the change as she still felt as if her arm was still there.
God dammitâŠ
Appearing out in the aftermath of her fumble, Satette peers over to witness a palm being offered to her; the lively psychic taking the helping hand to let it help her pull her back up and discover the hand belonging to a middle aged man, concerned over her fall.
âYou feeling alright there, missy?â
âYeah, just a few scrapes. Nothing serious.â she assures.
âYou sure that all? Somethinâs telling me that little tumble wasnât only thing getting you down.â the man then questions.
âSorry, but Iâm a little too busy right now to trauma dump on some random stranger I bumped into.â
âYou at least got time to talk about your recent arm accident.â the middle aged man suddenly points out, an observation of which makes Sat stop dead in her tracks.
âHow do you know it was recent?â she sternly asks him.
âIts practically painted all over your pretty little face. The bags of eyes, the unkempt ragged hair, the utter despondency. Seems like your suffering from a case of the blueâs right there. You wanna take a break and talk about it.â
âThe hell does someone like you know what Iâm going through?â Satette defensively questions.
âI know more than you might think.â claims the man, waltzing over to the side of the tree.
Leaning himself against the small treeâs bark, the kind stranger reaches down to one of his legs and clutches to its ankle; Satette left astonished as she watches the guy pull the lower half of his own leg right off. Presenting this does he reveal the bottom of his leg to be nothing but plastic; a prosthetic serving to replace a part of the foot having long since been lost.
âJesus! A fake leg?â
âYep. Got caught in an accident around my early 30âs that left my leg a balled up scrunchy; had to be cut off so this bad boy could take its place.â
âJeez. I didnât know. Now I just feel like a huge bitch.â she reluctantly admits.
âDonât be. I felt around the same way as you when it got cut off. Depressed, frustrated, felt like my whole world was falling apart. Shut out everyone that tried to help. Course that was years and years ago. And you wanna know the difference between then and now?â
âWhat?â
âSome friends, some joy and most importantly, time. It took me time. Admittedly, more of it then I thought, but still.â
After taking a bit of a moment to pop his prosthetic leg back on, the middle aged man pushes himself of the side of the tree and continues with:
âTime might not heal all wounds, but it heals more of them than you might think. Maybe let that ruminate with ya for a bit.â
The encounter with the cheery middle aged man coming to a close, Sat simply watches the guy stroll back into his daily commute; putting her hand in her dress pocket as his words stick to her.
In the depths of her own pocket does she feel something tucked within and starts to pull it out, Satette taking out a folded slip of paper to soon begins to unravels its several crevices; the process somewhat cumbersome to manage with only a single hand. When she does eventually unfold the small slip of notebook paper, Sat flaps the piece around a bit to straighten it out to make out the words written; a message inscribed to the lively psychic tell her of the objective at hand.
âSat, in case youâve been too busy wallowing in the bottomless self pity and depression oozing out from the crevices of your own brain and forgot why the hell I sent you out wandering around the middle of an inner city suburb, I wrote down whatâs gotta be done for ya. You can thank me later.
For now, due to the sensitive nature of our informantâs safety and anonymity, the best course of action for them to know without a doubt who they meet with is to cause a little bit of a commotion down here in this little slice of white picket fence disgrace of modern neighborhood street design; it is only then our informant shall reveal themselves to you. My advice is to take a page out of Thursotteâs strategy guide and cause an accident to happen the only way you know how.
P.S: No matter how shitty it all may feel, never forget what weâre fighting for.â
Fighting for? What the hell are we fighting for anymore?
Breaking her out from this somber moment is she baited from the small note when the voice of a child calls for her attention; Satette peering up from the note to discover an upset young boy urgently compelling for her with:
âHey, miss; you got a sec!?â
âHey, kid, chill. Whatâs with all the stress?â she returns with.
âMy big sister got out of the house when I was supposed to be watching her. Thereâs no way she can be out here being as sick as she is?â
âJeez, sounds urgent. Whatâs she look like?â
âYouâd know it when you see it, She-she-she looked pretty pale, tired, hairâs a mess, only got a shirt and sweatpants on. UhâŠâ
âOh, I just ran into someone like that. Looked pretty out of it while they were stumbling around the corner back there.â
âThank you so much!â the boy appreciates, bolting right beside the lively psychic and towards the sidewalk corner behind her.
âHol up, youâŠneed aâŠhand?â Satette tries to offer, her voice stumbling the further the boy runs.
The kid far too focused on catching up with his sickly sister, fails to hear her request as he hurries right around the corner; Satette letting out a disappointed sigh upon her aid being spurred.
Yeah, guess somebody with just one arm wouldnât have much hands to give. I mean, whatâs a disarmed bitch with nothing meaningful left in her life like me good for anyway.
The lively psychicâs is suddenly drawn to a horde of trucks that roll past her; each of them hauling hefty construction vehicles and equipment on their beds. Curiosity doesnât spark what all this equipment was for, that is until after the trucks turn the corner of a four way intersection, where upon a small crowd slowly marches from the other side of the road. It was obvious that this small crowd wasnât made of some gathering onlookers; not just their upset demeanor and the way they step in stride after the trucks, but the signs most of them raise up holding bold slogans and phrases of disagreement and denial. This was no mere batch of watchers, no; this was a full blown organized protest.
Its this development right here that peeks her interest and gets her to follow after to see what this might entail, following after the disgruntled mob
In the midst of following both the mob and in turn the trucks they pursue, Satette canât help but notice the natural flourishing greenâs of the neighborhood being uprooted and torn asunder by some of the heavy duty equipment rampaging through chunks of the tree lines and fields; forcing the small wildlife that called such places home to flee from the wrath of these machines.
It wasnât just the animals that were left to endure this invasion, no. For the surrounding plants, trees, shrubs, even lines of grass that shared these rare spots of soil were losing their natural vibrancy; their color drained away as they were left to wither as nothing but pale, dry, husks. This gradual decay looming over the neighborhood like an infection, it was obvious of why this gathering of good samaritans banded together in the fact of this tragedy in the making; but what against remained to be answered. What manner of rapidly escalating progress was worth carving such a wound upon this quaint little neighborhood?
The lively psychicâs brief venture following the protesters comes to a sudden end as she accidentally bumps right into one of them, keeping herself from falling over again as she finds the crowd having stopped their march. Satette backs away to gauge a view past the mob and see for herself what they had been rallying against.
From where she stands does Sat discover the protest taking place right in front of a number of buildings and large pipes being constructed by dozens of workers, carefully planning and building across a leveled field sitting right along the edge of the inner city suburb. Beside the construction site stood a billboard declaring that this project was:
âThe future site of the Kelito chemical plant. Redefining energy production since 1978.â
Kelito, like the big energy corporation? They canât be serious. These greedy fucks are trying to muscle their way in through small suburbs now? You think a company that bigâd have other, better places to build another site. Is the city that desperate for energy that they can let these jackassâs leisurely bulldoze around peopleâs homes?
Venturing her gaze away from the ongoing protest is her attention then drawn over a small concession stand set up next to a truck parked along the side, the stand advertising the sale of locally grown produce harvested from this very neighborhood. Though such a small inconsequential background detail typically doesnât bait her attention, her growling stomach beckons otherwise and compels her to approach.
Probably shouldâve ate something before I left. Do I even have any money?
Upon approaching the quaint little stand as a couple of the protester depart with some fresh snacks to chow down on, the old lady serving the produce looks to the lively psychic with a warm and welcoming grin as she greets with:
âHey there, sweetie. Care for a little snack in these trying times.â
âUm, sorry. I donât got any cash on me.â
âNonsense. All of itâs on the house. You youngins will need the energy keeping up the good fight.â she claims, offering Sat an apple.
âOh, thanks.â
Nabbing the piece of fruit from the old womanâs grasp, the lively psychic wasteâs not another moment to chomp down through its skin and take a chunk right off; the apple juicy sweet nectar flooding her mouth with its tasty splendor with every bite.
âOoh, damn. This real good. Whatâs in it?â
âNothing special, I just grew it right in the comfort and care of my own backyard garden. Been growing fruits and vegetables since I was a little girl. Thereâs a hint of love in every bite.
But Iâm not sure how much longer I can go on saying that, not with this new fangled chemical plant muscling its way in and tearing up the neighborhood.â she laments.
âAbout that. Why of all places does a big corp like Kelito so eager to build along the side of a little neighborhood.?â Satette questions.
âIâm not completely in the know about it all; but from what I heard, the cityâs power generators are incredibly out of date and arenât providing enough energy. So the city offices enlisted Kelito to help update the structure with their own facilities, and they think the big field along the edge of our neighborhood is the perfect place to set up shop.â
âThat canât be legal; building something like that so close to a suburb.â argues Satette.
âUnfortunately, whatâs legal and whatâs right doesnât matter much anymore nowadays. Whatever loophole they found, theyâre exploiting to no end and back with a seemingly unending well of money. As long as the cash doesnât stop flowing, thereâs not much the authorities are willing to do to step up for people like us.â
âBig energyâs stepping on the common folks and the governmentâs just turning a blind eye. No wonder everyoneâs so pissed.â
âYes sir, and its just getting worse by the day. I donât know what else those corporate creeps are doing around here; but it hasnât just been effecting trees and plants. Some people living around here even have been getting very ill since they started building here; vomiting, diarrhea, pale skin. These blocks have been through their fair share of flue seasonâs, but it was never anything this severe.â
People here getting sick?
Its upon the old womanâs recounting that Sat then remembers the pale sickly woman she had encountered when first coming to this slice of suburban life; her sickly demeanor now making a lot more sense.
Does she live around here?
âTake a little look over there for me.â the old woman then tells her, pointing towards the corner of the block.
âSee that house? The one boarded all up?â
Directing her attention over to one of the quaint little homes lining the corner of the block in question, Sat finds the house plastered with nailed on planks and boards all over the windows and door; the big plank of wood attached to the front compelling people to not break in and enter. Its yard drained of color, its treeâs withered and dead, and its shrubs baron and dry.
âThat run down one?â Sat wonders.
âThatâs where Mr. Yukon used to live. He used to be the life of the party every time the neighborhood had a shindig for New years, 4th of July, Halloween almost every holiday all year around. If there was a party, heâd be there to turn it into a night to remember.
But ever since the plant started to be built nearby, the less we saw of him. Found out he caught one hell of a bug one day and came out less and less, figure he didnât want anybody catching what he had. But it soon got bad enough for him to be carted off to the hospital; and after that, his home had to be boarded up. Nobodyâs seen him since.â
âOh my god.â
âAnd its not just him, several more people had to move due to this strange bug going around. If Kelito doesnât stop tearing up our little corner of suburba to build this new energy plant, the whole neighborhood will be forced to move. A lot of people around here worked to get this quaint little life away from the terror of the inner city, and I canât afford to pack up and leave.â
âAnd, thatâs why youâre out here? Sharing the produce you picked for the people trying to fight back?â the lively psychic summarizes.
âPrecisely. I might not have as much pep in my step as I used to, but it warms my aging heart to see the people of today fighting for what they hold dear.â
For what they value, huh?
A look to the bitten down apple she holds in her hand, Satette discovers that she had chomped down close to the core of the humble little fruit; the seeds at the center nestled in the crevices of the middle. From the core of the apple, the lively psychic than turns her attention over to one of the excavators brought along one of trucks driven here; the hefty metal machine thrusting its claw near the roots of a towering tree.
âHey lady. How much produce are you packing?â she asks with a confidently sly grin.
Plunging its claws once more into the treeâs soil, the powerful excavator swipes through the dirt to expose its vunerable roots; the hardened wooden veins sticking out from the bottom of the oak. The worker inside pulls at the lever controls to command the diggerâs scoop to slowly lower down towards the treeâs roots; its steel claws inching closer to the base. Yet the hefty machines neck would suddenly cease lowering as a harsh grinding could be heard screeching out from within the excavator itself; the levers that the worker had been manning refusing to budge.
âThe hell?â
Curious of what the cause of the machineâs malfunction could be stemming from, the construction worker hops out from the excavators booth and ventures over to the back of the vehicle; the source of the trouble spotted when finding strands of green slithering out from the back panel. Upon popping open the hood, the worker lets out a confused grunt before calling out:
âUhâŠboss. Might wanna come and see this.â
Entangled through the gears and pistons of the machines inner workings run several stretches of healthy green vines, with their length baring plump grapes spanning all through the inside of the excavator; some of these fruit having burst to spew their juices right on some of the crucial parts.
Staring down to this odd practice of sabotage be a man in a slick back haircut donning a short sleeved yellow business tee plastered in black highlights; his piercing glare down upon the mess making it clear that he was less than pleased.
âWhat the fuck am I looking?â he asks aloud.
âIâŠI donât know, boss. One of the protesters mustâve ran some vines they pulled from their backyard through the inside while nobody was working.â one of the gathered workers guesses.
âShould we postpone the excavation to call for another digger?â another question.
âYouâre joking with me, right? With how long it took to deliver this one? Our scheduleâs tight enough as it is, and we canât afford to waste another day over one of those chanting dipshits sad excuses for sabotage. Weed and clean it all out and get the excavators back up and running; I want this ground leveled by tomorrow.
Lets move people, daylightâs burning.â the construction boss orders with a clap.
Though disgruntled over their superiors hasty demands, the crew starts getting to work in fixing up the broken down excavator; a time consuming effort of which the lively psychic watches as she snacks on a couple of grapes.
Suspended high above the ground via the hook of a crane be a bundle of steel frames, being delivered on a plank of wood about three floors or so towards the top of the constructing building; some of the workers standing up that high signaling the crane driver to maneuver the hard steel.
But trouble begins to brew as the neck of the crane unexpectedly stops just short of some feet near the building, as the sudden stop causing the wooden plank holding the frame to tremble with enough of a jerk to send the steel pieces sliding right off and plummeting towards the ground below; those workers nearby fleeting as the frame crashes down.
âJesus!â one of them exclaims.
Among the brief moment of terror and fright does the man in the yellow and black business shirt cut his way through the gathered workers in attempting to assess the situation, demand:
âMove, move! What happened!?â
Sharing in the site the rest of his crew partake in, a sharp gasp escapes from his mouth when discovering the damages, approaching the site to take a closer look as he exclaims:
âOh my god!â
To his horror, the boss nears the mess to discover the steel frame having been bent from the drop; its straight lines harshly curved down.
âThe damn steel frames all busted up! What the hell weâre you numbskulls doing!?â
âIt ainât our fault, boss. The crane just froze up out of nowhere. But donât worry, nobody got hurt.â
âThatâs not the problem. Do you all know how long it took to special order this frame? Now I gotta call for another one and that could take half a week. Which of you was driving the crane?â he demands.
âI donât think the driver was the problem, boss.â one of the workers claim, his eyes glued to the hefty piece of equipment.
âThe hell does that mean?â
âJust look.â
Returning his sites back to the construction vehicle in question, the construction managerâs eyes widen upon discovering a long stalk of green slithered tightly around the neck of the crane; the piece of foliage stretching out from machines base. Though the strangest detail to stand out being the fact that from the lengthy stalk can plump red tomatoes bee seen having sprouted, one of them falling off the vine to land right in the bossâs grasp.
Closely inspecting the piece of fruit, he finds it to be no different from any other ripe tomato, with its bright red skin reflecting the sunlight.
A strained growl escape from him as the manager spikes the perfectly good piece of fruit down onto the ground, splattering against the hardened dirt; a clear display of frustration he brushes aside as he orders his crew to:
âWeed it all out from the crane to get it back up and running. We ainât gonna let whatever shit someoneâs pulling here slow us down.â
Nestled atop a tiny mound of soil stood a patch of planted daffodils; what petals remained clinging on to the top of the stem as they attempt to hold onto their vibrant colors. Yet is their noble stand against all odds is threatened as a monolithic machine treads its way, with its wide head effortlessly tearing through the grassy plains; the daffodils petals quivering as the bulldozer draws near.
The moment that the vastly huge vehicle is about to violently shovel through the lonely patch of flowers, a terrible metallic screech echoes from underneath the bulldozer as it suddenly comes to an unexpected halt; the worker driving the machine hitting her face against the glass window upon being flung from her seat.
âAugh! What the he-what just happened!?â she harshly questions, climbing down from the driver seat to inspect.
Taking a gander of what could make the massive machine she had been driving stop so suddenly, her irritation swiftly turns to disbelief upon beholding the root cause of the problem; her utter surprise urging her to call for:
âBoss, thereâs something else!â
Entangled across the treads of the hefty bulldozer be hard strands of wood running across the gears and wheels of the machines steel bed; the hard roots enveloping the frame to to prevent the treads from moving another inch.
âAnd, this what you found when it stopped on you, right?â the man in the yellow and black business shirt recounts, staring down to the damages.
âYeah, I didnât see any sort of leftover roots while I was driving. Itâs like they just turned up or something, its freaky.â
âCome on, thatâs crazy. Like roots can just pop out from the ground? Quit making stuff up.â another worker mocks.
âNova, Iâm being serious. These last couple attempts of sabotage arenât like anything weâve seen before. I doubt those all those protester could do something this bizarre. None of this is natural.â the worker beckons to the boss.
âHmmâŠYou might be onto something there.â Nova agrees.
âWhat say the rest of you take your break while I do some maintenance on this hunk of junk right here?â
âYou sure, boss?â
âCourse, think everyone needs a breather after the back to back incidents. Just take 30 while I take care of some stuff.â
Left with little to complain over, the crew of construction workers split for their break and leave their superior alone with the entangled bulldozer; Nova himself waiting until each of them were out of sight before he turns to the construction vehicle. But one pair of eyes he doesnât expect to watch him be those of the lively psychic herself; Satette laying low around the corner of a nearby house as she intently watches the construction boss approach the side of the dozer.
Kneeling down to the vehicles treads, Nova reaches for the mess of the roots entangling its wheels and tightly clutches to one of the wooden strands; Satâs suspension sky rocketing when she witnesses a bright green power seeping out from the construction worker manager.
No way.
Coursing out from the boss, the potent green power surges directly into the hard oak roots plaguing the hefty piece of construction equipment; the lengths of wood beginning to shrivel up and wither underneath the influence of this gnarly aura.
Heâs a psychic!?
The once healthy and thick pieces of root, within moments, are left as nothing but crumbled and dry sticks; twigs that the manager tugs out from the inside of the machine with extreme ease. A satisfied chuckle leaves the boss as he jerks out the last piece of shriveled wood; his special kind of supernatural touch having reduced all of the invasive roots clogging up the bulldozer to nothing but a pile of dead sticks.
What the hell did he do to them!?
The last of the roots pulled right out, Nova climbs up to the seat of the bulldozer and turns the keys to fire up the engine, stepping on the gas to see the construction vehicle moving like normal once more; the patch of daffodils crushed under the machineâs terrible weight as it flattens the land they stood to level.
Confirming the heavy bulldozer to be back up and running, the construction manager turns off the machine before hopping out, waltzing away with satisfied confidence.
Left curious of what the boss couldâve possibly done to the mess of roots she had planted, Satette prowls out from side of the home to step out from the shadows; slowly nearing the bundle of withered sticks Nova had just finished uprooting.
The lively psychic reaches her hand over to the pile of dried up twigs in an attempt to inspect closer, but is forced to reel her fingers back upon feeling an overwhelming heat radiate from their withered bark!
Ah! God, that stings! What did that slicked back dickhead even do?
Yet despite the mess of withered twigs being incredibly smoldering to the touch, there crackled exterior holds not even a single ember among their dried out wood; just left as shriveled and sapped of color as the rest of the flora around this part of the neighborhood.
Canât believe that a psychic was behind all this. The construction crew hasnât even reach far out from hear, and yet the surrounding treeâs and plants are all dried up; thereâs no way they could make the neighborhood turn gray when theyâre just building over stuff. But whatâs a psychic doing all the way back out here? Is he with the mob too?
Whatever the case, its clear that heâs the one behind the decay of this slice of suburba; how is yet another question to be answered. A construction crew boss like him has to have a trailer or something parked around here to camp in during the day; surely the dude has to have some sort of documents or connections stowed away in it.
Secretly stalking the construction boss across the site, Satette sees the slicked back dipstick of a manager waltz his way up to a humble mobile trailer parked right along the edge of the yard; just as the lively psychic had predicted. What she failed to predict however were the dozen or so construction workers leisurely sitting between her and said trailer; each of them enjoying their well earned break chowing down on their packed lunches.
Okay, no problem. Ainât nothing you hadnât tackled. Might be a little rusty, and a tad handicapped. Never stopped me before; even when people begged me not to.
Sticking to the shadows sprawling along the side of the site, Satette slithers her way around the numerous workers leisurely enjoying every second of their downtime; not one of them so much as notices her weaving across their eyes.
For the most part, this demonstration of stealth was pretty simple and straight forward; hiding behind hefty equipment, avoiding prying eyes, slithering through when nobody was looking. Nothing she hadnât done before.
Of course, that swiftly changes when coming to the last stretch between her and the managerâs trailer; with next to nothing for her to conceal herself from the open. Practically anyone on the site could see her approach the trailer along the small piece of open space; it almost seemed impossible to come near it without a pair of eyes casually glancing her way.
But Satâs own eyes then discover a small window of opportunity when spotting a power line spanning from one of the electrical poles, all the way right to the side of the bossâs trailer; veiled in some plastic covering standing in between the line and the eyes of the workers.
Well, thatâs one way close the gap stealthily enough. Course, actually getting up there and shimmying through is another story. Laying so much as a finger on those lines could fry me right up into a juicy beef pattyâŠmaybe a slim beef patty. Thereâs gotta be some way to get across without turning my ass into crispy fried bacon.
Itâs when pondering of a way across the lines that she lays eyes upon the remains of a small tree; its body withered and soiled away into nothing but a dry husk, no doubt plagued by whatever the construction boss had inflicted. Such a lifeless husk of wood would normally be of little use to anyone in her case, yet to the lively psychic is only a matter of how to use it.
Even with her years of dexterity practice, Satette shows to have some trouble scaling the electrical pole, even when holding onto and stepping on the stakes planted on its side; the lack of her other arm making the climb quiet cumbersome.
And its in the middle of her ascent when reaching for the iron stake above that her grasp unexpectedly slips; Sat instinctively attempting to reach out with her none existent arm in trying to stop her fumble, yet to no avail. A cruelly timed reminder over her lack of her other limb.
Her legs closest to the electrical pole, Satette manages to bend them around the stakes underneath to save her hide, slamming her back against the poleâs hard wood rather than fumbling back to the ground; the lively psychic holds her tongue in trying to not grunt or shout from the hitting her back.
Fucking phantom limb syndrome.
Its after recovering from that near debacle that Satette makes it to the top of the electrical pole, hearing the audible hum of power that surges through the thick black wires just a few feet away; that thick black wire spanning across the edge of the site and right over the bossâs office trailer.
Reaching to her back, the lively psychic pulls out a piece of dried out wood she took from that withered tree; the bark across the limb left with very little vibrant color to speak off. Yet even in its decaying state can Sat feel some kick left in this small little stick and courses her power through the twig; the natural green aura reconstructing the piece of wood into a curved hook.
Placing both of her feet down onto the same iron stake, the lively psychic makes a brave leap up and hoists her wooden hook up to its electrical wires, successfully dangling onto the power lines without invoking its shocking wrath.
Got it. Now just to shimmy across to the trailer with my otherâŠ
Its her sudden judgment that she glances to where her arm used to be, followed by looking to her other arm as the realization begins to sink in for her. The lack of another limb making it impossible for her to simply inch across the power line.
Oh..well dammit. Seems I didnât think this all the way through.
Things end up getting worse as she gazes up back to find the electrical line starting to unravel, no doubt from all the excess weight it was never meant to carry.
Oh shit.
Acting quickly, Satette morphs her wooden hook to envelope around and clutch at the unraveling power line, the transformed branch firmly grasping the wiring just before it snaps. Despite its withered appearance, the small wooden stick manages to keep its grip onto the power line as Sat falls; the lively psychic swinging across the side of the construction site while keeping her mouth shut.
Even with this blunder however, she quickly closes in onto the construction bossâ trailer and lets go of her morphed wooden hook. Yet when attempting reach both hands out to land gracefully, the lack of her other limb ends up making her mess up the landing and winds up crash and tumbling to the back of the trailer.
OuchâŠ
The trailer window above her clicks before it suddenly slides open; the manager of the site sticking his head out for what could be causing such a commotion; Nova finding not a soul standing outside that could make such racket.
Seeing nobody else right out his window, the construction boss ends up shrugging off the noise and closes his window back up, unaware of the lively psychic crawling underneath his trailer.
Pacing back and forth in the small trailer space, Nova steps over the crumbs and coffee stains littering the floor; a mess which the manager is inclined to simply ignore as heâs himself was scattered and worried while conversing with somebody on the phone.
âI-I knowâŠI knowâŠI knowâŠLook, IâŠThereâve been some setbacks, but I guarantee you, the project is coming along nicely and will be done on time. Yes, I know how important this is supposed to be to you guys.
The protesters are enough of a pain in the ass; think they might be tampering with the equipment as of late.â
Nova leans against the side of his desk as he lets the person on the other end of the call continue to speak, which was littered with piece of paper and used pens; some of them sliding off to the side as he responds with:
âYou know how we canât just âtake care of them allâ like some common hit, not just out here in the publicâŠOf course I havenât just been laying down and taking it. Iâm sure you of all people know how discrete you gotta be when uprooting the weeds that pop up every now and again.â
Pushing himself right off the side of his desk, the construction manager waltzes right over to the window and stick his finger in between the blinds, peeking outside for his sites to rest to one of the nearby houses left in disarray.
âManage to finally drive out this one guy thatâs been a thorn in our side; the guy that rallied the people around here into protesting. Some old rando named Yukon or whatever; shouldâve seen the look on their faces when he got hauled to the hospital.â
Novaâs vision drifting over to the crowd of protesters, his eyes lock to the old lady providing freshly picked fruits and vegetables
âI imagine a couple more of those casesâll get the rest of those shout picket sign shits to scatter like cockroaches.
Remind me again why you had me set up a site like this out of the blue?âŠPower shortage? First timeâs thatâs happened for us in a while, but what happened to what you were using beforeâŠAlright, alright, fine. Just say its a secret. No need to get so hostile on me, man.
Just gimme about a month or two, March. I know the rest of the mafia needs it now more than ever. I swear Iâll get this plant up by this season. Alright?âŠAlright. Cool talking to you.â
Hanging up the line, the construction boss stows his phone back into his pocket as he strolls on over to the door, opening up and stepping out as he tells his crew that:
âAlright. Eatin times over! Back to the grind people! Chop, chop. Got a lot to catch up on if we wanna make the quota.â
Once the manager slams the trailer door behind him, that was the queue for a sliver of wood to begin sawing through the floor and carve out a sizable hole from underneath the trailer; the cut circle popping out as the lively psychic lifts her way in.
Climbing inside the little office trailer, she begins to look around for whatever may tell her of the managerâs next move; no doubt the first place to look for something that crucial and fresh being the drawers of his desk.
I definitely didnât miss hear him. That slicked back douche had one of the scions on the other line. The mob higher ups must be desperate to get a source of power up and running if theyâre risking to build in an open neighborhood. Now with December and his lab washed away in the briny blue, theyâre scattering to get control back in the tech side of the city.
Still doesnât say a damn thing about who this guy is and what he did to make part of the place as drained and gray as a lifeless husk.
In among rummaging through one of the bossâs desk drawers that Satette ends up finding something intriguing among the usual documents, and office supplies; the lively psychic pulling out what appeared to be a strange radar with a metal wand attached to the top. On its face was an analog screen and a meter displaying numbers ranging from 10 to 500; the back depicted more clear information showing the name and model number of the device.
Something called a Geiger counter. Weird name. Sort of looks like one of those tools hazmat people use in movies when trying to measure how toxic..someplace isâŠ
Its from this stray thought that the nature of her foeâs power starts to become clear to her; left to think back of the sickly young woman that was wondering through the streets; the way the surrounding plants withered and decayed, how the old woman described how that one guy got sick and had to be taken to the hospital with his place boarded up, and how the wood felt hot to touch even without it being on fire. All of it. Every seemingly random incident lead to a single conclusion.
Oh my god, the son of a bitch is radioactive! Heâs been using radiation to kill all the plants and treeâs to make it easier to build over. Heâs been poisoning the people living here to drive them all away and demolish their homes!
Thatâs it, this slicked back rat bastard has to die!
The midnight moon rises high in the pitch black sky as the clock strikes the late hours of the night; the construction site left entirely baron and empty, with not a single worker, or protester for that matter, left in site. Though most of the site lay blanketed by shadow, one source of luminescence glows among the surrounding darkness as the managerâs trailer stays alight; Nova left stuck at his desk with a mound of paperwork to sort through.
When a long yawn ends up escaping from his lungs, the construction boss reaches over for a cup of coffee left sitting at the corner of the desk and takes a little sip; the nuclear psychic withdrawing his lips from the rim of the mug upon noticing the drink having lost its refreshing warmth. Nova remedies this by clutching the sides of the cup with but one hand before surging his radioactive energy into the drink; lines of steam wafting up from the surface of the liquid in just a few short moments. Its from this that the boss takes another sip from his mug of coffee to feel the assuring warmth once more, letting out a satisfied moan as he guzzles the drink down.
His little sip blows into a full on spit take when a loud metal thud suddenly echoes from outside; Nova left with strands of coffee drooling down his mouth as his eyes lurch to the window.
Stepping outside to see what might have caused such a loud racket, Nova closes the door behind him as he peers out into the dimly lit site; the manager finding not a soul in his immediate surroundings. His suspicion still lingers as he continues away from his parked trailer to venture deeper into the shadowy site, positive that the commotion he heard was no meager accident.
âIf its one of those picket sign pricks doing this, I swear to god.â
The cool night air flows in from the open roof overhead as Nova makes his way into the partially constructed plant building, looking through the shadows infested within. Raising but a single finger, the construction manager disperses the encompassing darkness with the light of his own nuclear energy; the shadows fleeting from the small radioactive green glow. His light reveals nothing worth of note among the scattered construction tools and standing scaffolding; his suspicion slowly deflating as he finds not a piece of evidence of tampering.
That is until the construction manager uncovers a rather odd display, coming upon a ravel of oak wood having entangled itself in one of the forklifts; Nova letting out a frustrated sigh as he approaches one of its branches.
Clutching against the mess of wood, the construction manager begins to erode away its strength with doses of radiation like he had done with the bulldozer before; a task of which leaves the him unaware of a dark figure encroaching from the shadows with a stake in hand. The figure surreptitiously inches closer and closer as they raise the splintered stake, preparing to plunge its wood into the bossâs back.
Finally lunging to the man from behind, the figure thrusts the stake towards the manâs back; but is utterly caught off guard as the tip of their weapon suddenly erodes away into a stump.
The piece of harmless eroded wood prodding behind him, Nova swiftly turns back around with a handful of lethal power in the palm of his hand; the deadly green light reveals the attacker to be the lively psychic as she leaps away from the radioactive swipe. Satette fumbling onto the tiled floor, she beholds the nuclear construction manager look down on her with baggy, yet sharp eyes.
âHe he he he he, I figured that the kind of shit I had to unravel couldnât be from any of those sign swinging shit stains; had to be the work of another psychic. Didnât expect that psychic to be a wanted traitor, though. Man, things might be looking up for me real soon. The scions are flip when I send them them youâre charred body.â
The dastardly green glow in the manâs hands growing brighter, Satette quickly pulls herself up and dashes away just as Nova throws out the orb of radiation down at her; the lively psychic narrowly avoiding the nuclear blast.
His intruder threatening to escape, the nuclear psychic gives chase after Satette as she darts throughout the floor of the site; the young woman hurdling over iron poles, around stacks of boxes, and leaping across patches of wet cement. Despite in pursuit of the woman wrecking his operation, the construction boss is careful to not disturb the pieces of the site he passes by, giving Sat a bit of distance to work with.
The lively psychic spends the gap bolting over to a ladder to climb up to a set of scaffolding standing against a partially constructed wall; her lack of a second arm making the ascent somewhat slow and cumbersome. And seeing the site intruder having such difficulty rising up the ladder, Nova begins to conjure a concentration of nuclear power in the palm of his hand; a dose of radiation he casts after the lively psychic.
Using nothing but the command of her own psychic power, Sat has lines of wood root slither out from behind her dress to form a hard bark shell to coat her back; the thick oak shield tanking the radioactive blast for her.
Despite feeling not one bit of nuclear power inflicted upon her, the lively psychic is still astonished when finding her makeshift shell left as nothing but sawdust from the blast alone; a strong warning to further cement how dangerous this man was as she frantically hurries up the ladder.
Finally scaling to the top of the ladder, Satette hops onto the scaffolding suspended against the wall and darts across; all the while hearing the nuclear psychic tails after her
In fleeting from the construction manager pursing her, Satette finds another ladder waiting up ahead and starts to reaching out with the intent on scuttling right on up; soon retracting her grasp when recollecting how slow she was climbing up the first ladder. Rather than risk making herself an easy target struggling to climb up, the lively psychic instead zips right on by and darts straight towards the corner of the wall; a seemingly ineffectual bid in her escape as Nova again fires out a ray of toxic green at her.
Yet when racing to the other end does Sat make a bounding leap towards the corner, planting her feet onto the wall and jumping right off to the length of scaffolding above her; narrowly evading the oncoming ray of radiation as it blasts against the corner.
From kicking off the corner of the wall and landing right onto the next set of scaffolding above, Sat continue to bolt across as the nuclear psychic below continues to give chase, all the while Nova pursues after. Its in the midst of hurrying across the wooden boards that Satette comes across a big iron wrench left littered in the middle of the way and casts a vine of ivy to wrap around the length of metal; tossing it right out and slinging it right back towards the construction boss like a
Against the oncoming piece of steel flung straight at him, Nova catches the wrench right in the palm of his hand before clutching the line of greens of his lively intruder; the construction manager sending a deadly dose of radiation crawling across the vine and surging at the woman on the other end. Witnessing her string of healthy ivy withering away against the deadly green power, Sat is left with little choice but to severe the green vine with nothing but her own teeth, harshly gnawing on the ivy until it snaps in two. Having broken the irradiated tether just in the nick of time, Satette hurries down the other end of the scaffolding towards the ledge of the unfinished wall; the lively psychic left with little recourse against her nuclear nemesis chasing her but to risk it.
To the construction bossâs surprise, the lively psychic makes an all or nothing leap off the end of the scaffolding and right over the partially constructed wall; Satette peering down to find herself plummeting down towards nothing cold hard concrete.
With what little sliver of living ivy and tree wood she had left to spare, the young woman combines them into a string of foliage she casts forth at an excavator left broken nearby; what weeds remained in its inner workings withered and dead. The other end of the natural rope wraps around the neck of the large vehicle and swings Satette right over the placed pieces of pavement, effectively sparing her from splattering onto the concrete.
Her little close call lasts not that long however as the sliver of rope unexpectedly snaps in half, leaving her to her rough descend down back to ground level and tumble across the side of the site.
Though left with a couple of mild scrapes, the young woman pulls herself up to find having made it out relatively alright; not a single broken bone or gash to be felt anywhere on her.
But her ordeal is nowhere near over as the doors to the building behind her are kicked open, with the nuclear psychic surrounding himself in a potent green aura as he steps out to continue pursuing after her. With no natural resources left to defend herself with, Satetteâs only course of action is to flee from the chasing construction manager; the young woman darting towards the edge of the site blocked off by a picket fence.
Approaching the piece of fencing, Sat springs towards one of the construction vehicles left parked close to a towering stack of cinder blocks; kicking herself off both the machine and the set of blocks back to back in rising to the top of the fencing, flipping right over the top of the tipped fence with but one graceful leap.
Hopping right over the picket fence, Satette lands within the backyard of one of the homes neighboring the construction site; the abysmal state of the lawn clear to see as making it all up is left rotted and dry away against the invading influence plaguing this slice of the suburbs. Even the few trees left standing in the middle of the yard left as a hollow shells of their former, flourishing selves.
Good lord, this is way worse than I thought. Thereâs barely anything to work with here. Not a blade of grass or branch left alive anywhere in this yard to work my magic on. Just how long as that radioactive wretch been dosing this poor neighborhood in his radiation?
Yet their proves little time for Satette to ponder over this matter as the wooden picket fence behind her is suddenly blasted apart; the unexpected explosion sending the lively psychic tumbling across the backyard until hitting the side of the house. After pulling herself off the side of the suburban home, Sat gazes back to the smoke left from the blast; a sharp dread setting in as she watches the nuclear psychic stepping out from the clouds of dust. With little to no other sensible course of action for her to take, Satette bolts towards the edge of the abode and hurries down the side and to the front; all the while the construction manager behind her fiercely pursues after; every step he takes burning footsteps in ground he steps on.
âThe mob kept me in this shitty pencil pushing job for 6 years, you know? All cause they wanted agents in some of the various industries.â
Running across the side of the humble home, Nova plunges his radioactive fist into the buildings walls and tears through its very foundation; the wood crumbling apart against the nuclear psychicâs power. Chasing the young woman straight to the corner of the home, he scatters what pieces of the wall he had built up tearing through the side right at the fleeting intruder; every single chunk of wall shot out left covered in flesh burning radiation. Satette is swift against the thrown out collection of foundation coming at her from behind and throws herself behind a solid bark of a dead tree; though its branches brittle and stripped of leaves, wood proves as hard as ever.
âDay in and day out, stuck with stacks of paperwork. Leading around a bunch of muscle headed idiots!â
From behind the tree does Sat sprint off towards the house next door furthest from the construction site, hoping to build distance between her and her pursuing nuclear nemesis; the lively psychic swerving right around the homeâs front porch.
The site construction boss feverishly after her, Sat leap right over chairs and sliding underneath tables as Nova fires out waves of deadly radiation at her; every blast eviscerating the outside furniture to splinters.
âAnd what do I get from it all, what do I fucking get from the people at the top!?â
Vaulting over the railing at the end of the porch, the lively psychic rolls across the yard and hurries towards the next house, frantically sprinting from home to home as quickly as she could away from the chasing construction boss; every abode she zips by, the color in the grass and plants begins to return.
âNothing, zilch, nada, Jackshit!â
Its when around the sixth or so house that the lawns, treeâs, and other plant finally start to regain their vibrant color and health; this finally lending Satette an opportunity to stop running and start fighting.
Stamping down on the healthiest patch of grass she seeâs, the lively psychic sends her natural green power surging throughout the front lawn just as her nuclear nemesis nears; the blades of grass coiling up through the legs of the construction boss like a bunch of snakes capturing their prey. Against this sudden snag, Nova unleashes a surge of radiation from his body which starts to erode away the enveloping blades of grass; the green strings reduced to withered straw in just mere moments.
âGot you right where I want you!â the lively psychic exclaims.
Those few meager moments are all Sat needs to race over towards the lawns tree and manipulate its thick, lively branches to all bend out and thrust out after her ensnared enemy; their gnarled pointed tips lunging after him like a host of hornets thrusting their stingers to that which disturbed their nest.
Yet not even one of these branches would find their way impaling through the manâs body; for the nuclear psychic unleashes a powerful burst of radioactive energy so thick and potent, the treeâs limb are shriveled to frail sticks in the blink of an eye. This small, but intense wave of radiation saps the color and life of all it comes in contact with, every inch of foliage and insects in but a few yards surrounding the nuclear psychic left as nothing but as withered and lifeless gray husks; Satette left backing away in utter dread just being a few feet away from this terrible wave of intense radiation.
hisâIâm the reason those goons have any sway in the energy scene in the first place.â
That inching retreat turns into a full blown sprint as she immediately starts to scurry away; Nova letting out a gnarled growl as he resumes pursuing her, declaring aloud how:
âBut once I get done microwaving your body like a cheap TV dinner and send it straight to them; theyâll finally have to promote me, and I can kick this fucking mind numbing bean counting position straight in the rectal passage. Hell, they might even make me a scion bringing you in. I can picture it now. Nova, the scion of plasma! Nice ring to it, donât you think?â
Dammit, I had no idea this crazed fruit loop powers were this intense; constantly flailing all that nuclear power like its a toy on Christmas day. I canât just run away from this bastard now, heâll turn this small slice of the suburbs into a fallout zone just looking for me.
I canât even get near this slicked back dip shit, let alone touch him; everything I try throwing at him, he just radiates away almost instantly. Meanwhile, he gets even one shot on me, and I might as well be thoroughly screwed. If the initial blast doesnât kill me, the intense radiation poisoning will.
Thereâs gotta be some way to break through this assholeâs radioactive defense and hit him right in his core.
But its while distracted pondering of a way to end this toxic manager that she fails to see the path ahead make a sudden descend and trips down a small grassy incline, fumbling down towards a big community garden filled with lush and healthy flower bushes.
And its rolling down to the end of the hill that the someone ends up unknowingly stumbling right in her way, Sat involuntary rams into this poor unsuspecting late night garden goer as they both collapse to the ground. Shaking off the initial dizziness from the clumsy roll down, the lively psychic starts to pick herself up as she takes a gander over to who she had quite literally ran into, surprised to find it to be somebody she had came across into quite recently. Letting out a sickly moan lie the pale woman the lively psychic had ran into when she first arrived in this little humble suburb; her shirt and sweatpants dirtied with grass stains and patches of snot.
Wow. No wonder your lil bro was so panicked; this is way worse then I thought. Donât even look like youâre even all there.
Her growing worry over this womanâs condition morphs into escalating panic when she catches site of glowing green peeking out from the top of the hill; Satette scoops up the sickly sister as she scurries over to a big mess of shrubs set on the side, delving deep into their thick brush to hide away from her approaching nuclear nemesis.
From the top of the small incline does Nova slide his way down to the bottom, intently glaring across the humble community garden for a single sign of his pursuit dwelling among the lovely assortments of planted flowers and shrubs. And coming to the bottom, he would find there to be a lot more foliage than he first saw atop the hill; almost half the block having been reserved for this lush and beautiful garden.
No doubt it would take a painstaking eternity to uncover the woman he chases after, and thatâs if sheâs stupid enough to stay put; itâd be a no brainer to simply sneak away while busy digging somewhere else.
Of course, posing as a construction manager for so long can teach you a couple of good tricks in scoping stuff out, and a sly mischievous grin cracks as he thinks of a way to apply that strategy here.
In the palm of his hands do sparks of deadly green aura ignite into a pulsing glow of intense radiation; a radioactive power so dense to cause an eerie low hum to echo across the garden. Once concentrating so much nuclear energy into a single point, Nova casts this mass of power as an intense toxic green wave to wash across a massive part of the community garden; the countless flowers and plants withering to colorless husk when struck by the deadly power. Every petal and every leaf strewn through these plants robbed of their vibrant life in but seconds, left so decrepit and irradiated as they simply fall off their dying stems and branches.
Yet even with their lush natural coats stripped down and their now frail limbs exposed to the chilly night air, there sits not a sign of the girl he had pursued down here; not even a piece of charred remains to speak off.
His initial disappointment over his lack of discovery is shunted aside when he catches the sound of something falling behind him; the construction manager swiftly peering over to find it being nothing but a normal little boy having tripped against one of the branching roots littering the garden path. It was obvious from the kidâs distraught and frightened demeanor that he had caught Nova in the act of ravaging the community garden with his unnatural nuclear powers, attempting to sneak away quietly while still distracted.
âHey, kid. Letâs chat a bit.â the construction boss menacingly requests while turning to the child.
Witnessing the young boy get up to try and escape, a dangerous green glow flares in the palm of Novaâs hands preparing to toss out the concentrated mass of nuclear power to snuff out the unexpected snooper.
Yet his efforts to silence the child are unexpectedly thwarted when the large bush beside him, left spared by the wave of life sapping radiation, suddenly lunges from its spot at the nuclear psychic; its dozen branches rapidly extending to out the construction boss right out from the community garden. The boyâs dreadful fear crack when witnessing among those branches being the young woman he had ran into while searching for his sickly sister just this morning; the limbs of the bush seeming to follow her command as they lash out against the man. Heâs left watching in awe from the bizarre display as the pair careen across the neighborhood in almost superhero movie like fashion.
Its following off this brief and unbelievable moment that the kidâs eyes are drawn right to the base of the elongated bush, shocked to find his big sister laying behind the elongated roots.
âSharry!â the boy exclaims, rushing right over to the girlâs side.
Awakening from her sickly slumber, the teenage girl shakes off her stupor and comes to the site of her little brother kneeling down to her; his worried glare being the first thing she notices.
âBrent? Whatâs going on?â she asks, rising from the grass.
âYou wound up wondering out of the house and I had to go look for you. Y-Youâre not gonna believe what I just saw. There was aâŠâ he recounts, cutting himself off when gazing to the teenage girl.
âAâŠwhat? What are you looking at? Is there something wrong with me?â
âThatâs the thing? You look fine. How do you feel?â
Contrasting to her unkempt and stained pajamaâs, the teen girlâs complexion stands vibrant and glistening; every evidence of her ever been ill vanished.
âI feelâŠgreat. Better even.â
âYou were as pale as a ghost this morning and barely even awake. How is this possible!?â the boy questions.
Among hurdling right over the countless homes across the nightly neighborhood, Satette lashes out to her nuclear nemesis with a twig ripped off from the bush she launched at him with; a line of blood spitting out as the splintered end of the stick strikes against Novaâs face.
Before the construction manager could lash back at the lively psychic, the two end up crashing straight through the roof of an evacuated home; the former residence now surrounded by several signs to deter entry and to warn of radiation.
When the clouds of dust and mold settle, Nova comes to and discovers himself standing right in the middle of a desolate and mildly run down living room left with messed up furnishings and stained floors; the dirty pictures framed across the wall depicting a vibrant and happy family.
The poor condition of this home is not what baits the construction managers attention, for he instead is drawn to a small shadow retreating from the other side of hall door way; a detail he eagerly rushes towards the enigmatic shadow with a ball of nuclear power ready in his hand. But when leaping out to the other side of the corridor, his enthusiasm wavers when finding the shadow belong to nothing more than a meager rat; common vermin that simply scurries away from Novaâs appearance.
Letting out a disgruntled snarl, the construction boss stalks his way down the hallway in search of wherever his lively pursuit may be dwelling; unaware of the woman he seeks peering at him from the cover of a cracked open door.
Retreating away from the other side of the door, Satette backs away into the small guest room she hides within; feeling a chill run down her spine as she bumps her back into the end of the wooden bed frame. Stepping up to the moonlight shining out the window, Sat looks over to a dirty vanity along the side of the room to realize how pale and ill she was starting to look; a literal reflection of how she feels on the inside.
Oh damn. Its only been in me a few minutes and Iâm already looking like a ghoul. Gotta pass this down soon, or toxic work management of the year prowling out there wonât be my only problem. This little stew just need one more ingredient before its delivered.
To this end does the lively psychic then brings the splintered stick she had struck her foe in the face with to her own visage, the drips of blood scratched out from the bastard glistening against the moonlight.
Without so much as any hint of hesitance does Satette slides her tongue across the small branchâs rugged bark to the drips of crimson staining its wood; smacking her lips as she gets a good taste of the scarlet liquid.
Hmm, so thatâs what iron deficiency tastes like.
Prowling out from the eerily quiet and baron hallway, the construction manager comes upon an odd site when entering the kitchen; the dinning table sitting in the middle littered with plates of food, having been left with partially eaten breakfast now covered in ants and bugs. Seems as if the family that had lived here recently had been forced to evacuate from the premises in quite the hurry, frantically enough to not even take one last bite of what was once a damn fine breakfast spread.
But regardless of the mildly gnarly site left behind, Nova looks over the spoil spread of eggs, milk, gravy, and bacon and towards one of the cabinets standing on the other side; its door occasionally trembling from something dwelling within. The manager gathers radiation in his palm as he cautiously approaches the shut cabinet door, anticipating for the woman he searches for to spring out on the offense. Curling his fingers around the handle, Nova swiftly swings the cabinet open while aiming his radiation down to what may be inside.
Yet what leaps out from within wasnât what he thought it to be, fumbling back when a lonesome squirrel scurries out from inside and scampers down the hall he came from; the construction manager taking a disgruntled breath as he disperses the concentrated radiation from his hand.
As the squirrel scuttles down the rest of the hallway, it races right past one of the doors left cracked open, with the lively psychic peeking out from the other side of the bathroom.
Need to get up close and personal to give out the special little surprise I got wrapped up for this slicked back dipstick, but it seems like heâs not gonna be falling for the sudden distraction tactic again anytime soon. If I try to rush him without some kind of protection, Iâll be cooked faster than a piece of bologna in the microwave. But everything Iâve thrown at him has just blasted away and crumbled into dust; there has to be something that can resist this dudeâs toxic personality.
Glancing back into the very bathroom she hides inside, Sat suddenly spots a lone little cockroach crawling across the moldy tile floor; the little bug scurrying away and squeeze itself right underneath the door of the bathroom closet.
Opening the door to that very closet is she taken aback when discover the astonishing site dwelling on the other side; an entire colony the pests scurrying across about every shelf within the small space, with some of them scattering out from their home now left exposed. To such a grotesque site that would make about anyoneâs skin crawl, Satette rather ponders over this uncovered nest of terrible pests; the young lady snapping her fingers as she suddenly comes up with an interesting solution on countering the cancerous construction boss.
Cracking open one of the homeâs many other doors, the construction boss barges his way through and is upset to find himself back into the living room that he had crashed into; pieces of wood and drywall falling out from the hole left in the ceiling. Nova is left a little more than frustrated over having wound up going in a circle; a seething growl escaping from his clenched teeth before he starts to conjure concentrated super radiation in the palms of his hands and shouts that:
âThis is starting to get irritating, okay. I got a ton of work to file for tomorrow, and I canât spend all night playing this shitty game of cat and mouse, So quit jerking my dick around and drag your ass out here, before I make this entire house go supernova.â
The moment that Nova witnesses a figure charge at him from the other side of the living room, he fires a ray of nuclear energy upon them; a blast of which sends them tumbling back against the wall.
Yet instead of staying down a sizzling under the lethal dose of fiery hot radiation just smacked upon them, the darkened figure instead immediately gets right back up to make another attempt lunge after the manager.
Nova backs away as he fires out another blast of radiation against the encroaching foe; the strange beingâs crawling skin tanking the blast as only little piece of its body fall apart.
Seeing the lumbering terror holding the shape of a person continuing to near, failing to be quelled by sparks of his deadly green power, the construction boss focuses his power into both of his hands before clasping them together to unleash a wave of intense radiation.
Taking the intense blow of radiation straight to the head, the strange wriggling figure is pushed back as the side of its head is stripped away; the construction boss watching the beast arise once more and his astonished what he discovers. Underneath the wriggling mass of darkness does he find the very same woman that he had been prowling for among this abandoned abode glaring back at him; the mass of bugs that had shielded her from his nuclear power reforming.
âAre those fucking cockroaches!? Youâre sick, woman!â
âNot as sick as all the people you poisoned! Its time you get a dose of your own medicine.â the lively psychic deflects, charging after her nuclear nemesis.
The bug coated psychic of life continuing to lash out against him, the toxic manager makes a constant retreat from every single lunge that Satette swings at him, retaliating back at her with small and swift waves of radiation; every nuclear slash inflicted upon her tanked by the collection of cockroaches coating her body. Despite her veil of vermin shielding her from the deadly doses of radioactive energy that Nova repeatedly strikes at her with, pieces of Satâs protective coat are stripped away from every blow; the dozens of cockroaches scalped off her left charred to a crisp against the pure nuclear assault. And it wasnât long before the lively psychicâs armor of insects begins to thin and crumble, forcing Satette to compel what bugs remain to scuttle around and shield her from the more direct attacks; this development failing to deter her constant approach as she inches closer and closer to the site manager.
Once finally closing in enough against the toxic construction boss, Satette thrust her only arm towards the man to drive the tip of a splintered twig right into him; Nova left flinching as the end of the stick digs straight into the front of his shoulder.
Yet this successful plunge past her nuclear nemesis's radioactive defenses fail to stop him from retaliating; Nova driving his fist right into the stomach of her armor before firing out a terrible blast of nuclear power upon her; the force of the blow powerful enough to send Satette careening right into the living room wall.
Slamming against the side of the room hard enough to leave cracks behind in the wall, the lively psychic falls to the floor as the last of her coat of cockroaches scatter away and past around their countless charred brethren that litter the floor.
What cockroaches he had fried loudly crunching underneath his feet, the toxic construction manager slowly approaches the lively psychic as he grabs the small stick that she had stabbed him with; Nova winching as he up heaves the twig out from his shoulder.
âDid you seriously think that a bunch of bugs and a damn stick would be enough to put a big shot in the making like me down. You have any idea who youâre dealing with here!?â the construction manager exclaims; reducing the twig to nothing but splinters in the palm of his hand.
âI know exactly what you are. Just another loser with power who thinks they can trample down on all the little people and get away with it.â rebuttals Satette, glaring up to the nuclear psychic.
The toxic construction boss canât help but burst out laughing from her description, beaming a striking sinister smile down upon the woman as he proclaims how:
âWelcome to the real world, sweetheart. The best things in life are for those who stamp down on whoever or whatever they can in their quest to the top of the food chain. From the most powerful politicians in the country, down to the smallest snot nosed brat winning an art contest; everyone does it in one point in their life. Scaling over the countless bodies of all the losers that litter the side of the mountain of life just for a chance to make it all the way to the top. Might sound nihilist, but hey, thatâs the way the world turns.â
âBut it doesnât have to be.â Satette refutes, a deflection which deflates her nuclear nemesis wicked grin.
âFor every sociopath willing to step on others to get what they want, thereâs countless otherâs holding each other together. Even among the worst of times, people stand with each other in the face of lifeâs struggles and aspirations. If one of us falls, the others around them help pick us right up. Even if it means if they have to sacrifice their own sake for those they care for.â
Speaking this words of inspiration does she think back to the old woman providing her well grown vegetables to the numerous protesters standing against the construction of the power plant threatening their homes.
âFrom the frailest, all the way to the sturdiest pillars, every single piece of a community matters. The smallest of neighborhoods, the biggest of cities. A team of two, to an entire band of thousands. Even if its a small rag tag group of nobodies wanting to make a difference.â
To proclaiming this is she reminded of all the people that she had stood by in the face of countless dangers and foes; Frida, Thursotte, Sunny, Tuesco, Monty, and Wedsle, their hopeful smiles solidified in her mind and fueling her determination.
âWe can stand with one another in the face of adversity. And its about time I remembered that.â
âTsk, yeah? Well let me show you where your cheesy little lesson about teamwork got you.â the radioactive manager offers, aiming his palm square against the young woman as sparks of radiation gather in his hand.
Even when these sparks of nuclear power swell into dangerous bellows of radioactive energy, Satette remains steadfast against the growing threat of this toxic power, Nova left puzzled upon seeing the lively psychic crack a smile of her own.
Its when pondering of her positive outlook in the face of certain doom that he starts to notice his arm having lost its natural vibrant color; the radioactive manager disperses the power gathered in his hand to discover his skin left as pale and cold as a corpse.
âWhat?â
But its among his now colorless skin that he finds the veins underneath his skin swiftly beginning to darken; the discoloration running from up the that very same arm growing worse from underneath his short sleeved business shirt.
âWhat the hell?â
When ripping off the side of his shirt, Novaâs confusion escalates to dreadful panic upon finding the wound left on his shoulder having worsened; the flesh of his body rapidly decaying to the point of chunks falling right off his very bones like pieces of well cooked pork.
âWhat the fuck!? What the happening to me!? What did you fucking do!?â he shrieks to the woman.
âI did exactly what I told you I would, and given you a dose of your own medicine.
Youâre about to pay for all the people and plants around here youâve been poisoning; and all of it stemming from one of your victims.â
Recollection the brief run in Satette had with the sickly sister back in the community garden, its revealed that while hiding under the cover of the shrubs that the lively psychic had taken the teenage girls ailment and had stowed it away in the temple of her own body.
âThat doesnât make sense! My own radiation shouldnât be effecting me at all! How the hell is it doing this to me!?â
âI knew as it stood, that girlâs radiation poisoning wouldnât do enough on you. So I had idea of modifying the little bug into a full blown virus, one that exclusively sought to devour a specific strand of DNA; all that I needed was just one little morsel to get it hooked.â
Satette then thinks back to how she had slashed at her nuclear nemesis, drawing some drops of blood from the cut she had inflicted across his face; lathering the end of the bloodied stick with her own sickly saliva.
âAfter my little pathogen gets done making a meal out of you, it should die out alongside the last of your wicked ambitions. The moment I got close and jammed that stick in your sorry shoulder, your death warrant was signed on the dotted line.â
âYouâŠYou goddamn cu-â the toxic construction boss curses, attempting to approach the lively psychic.
But just taking a single step towards the young woman would have Nova suddenly fumble down onto the floor; his dreadful panic swelling into borderline horror upon looking back to witness a truly terrifying site; the managerâs leg having been so corroded as to split his foot away from his own leg. Oozing from the sleeve of his pants be the frothy sludge of his own flesh, melting off the joint of his very bones; a site that more than solidified his grizzly fate.
âThis wasnât supposed to happen. I was meant to work my way up from the bottom, working undercover for the mob in this shitty pencil pushing job until I took my rightful place as the new scion. But to die here, to this fucking tree hugging bitch!?â he blathers as portions of his body melt onto the floor.
âSorry bud, seems like your contracts been terminated.â
Driven to the brink of fury over his toppling situation, the radioactive manager thrust his partially melted hand straight at the woman who had set his demise; the bones of his fingers reflecting the glow of nuclear power that he conjures in his very palm.
The lethal dose of radiation soon evaporates however, as Nova finally succumbs to the merciless hunger of the virus; the radioactive psychic that had brought terror and scourge to this little slice of suburbia left to sizzle in the broth of his own melting body.
This nuclear nightmare having been finally brought to a close, Satette lets out a deep sigh as she slumps against the living room wall; ultimately relieved that she had survived the highly infectious encounter largely unscathed.
Holy shit. That was pretty rough. If I hadnât thought of that whole virus trick, Iâd have been cooked for sure.
But I canât lay back and relax just yet, not while thereâs still one last bit of work to do.
From the dusk of twilight does the light of the morning sun break upon the city, shining upon both the tallest skyscrapers to the humblest of little homes.
Yet on this day, along the edge of a humble inner city suburb, all stands quiet as dozens of onlookers gather; protesters, construction workers, and many others behold what stands in place of the power plant.
From base to tip is every inch of the partially constructed building left entwined in blooming treeâs, flowers, and other lively foliage; enveloping the floors, the walls, and beams in lengths of living flora. The treeâs standing with bark abundantly thick, the flowers, so spread and vast. From in the middle of its dead brethren, this spontaneous garden stood tall in the middle of the source of its very blight; a display of nature trouncing upon its sickness.
To the unexpected and almost miraculous display of nature do the protesters and neighbors alike all roar out together in a celebration; their gleeful cheer over the end of their plight echoing all across the suburbs.
âWhelp. Guess this means the project is canceled. No amount of gardening tools can get through all that.â one of the workers declares.
âIâm just worried how Novaâs gonna take this. Heâs gonna be so pissed.â
âMeh, who cares. The guyâs a fuckin prick.â
The outcry of triumph reverberating across the block and beyond, one such woman who hears this roaring cheer is none other than the one who nobody will know had steered the course of their livelihoods; the lively psychic having delivered them all from being driven from their homes in the face of the radioactive scourge.
Expelling a long, loud yawn from her tired grin, Satette wonders out from the concrete walkway to approach the front of one of its humble homes, pulling out the glowing red key from her dress pocket.
Coming upon the door to the home, Sat slides the psychic key right into the keyhole to transform the ordinary door into one to lead her back to the safe house.
Sheâs reaches out and is moments away from turning the knob, when the grasp of another suddenly clutches at her arm; Satette swift to back away from the hand, only to calm herself when finding that grasp belonging to their enigmatic informant donned in the mask of a famous childrenâs television show character.
âOh, right. I was supposed to find you. Sorry, just had to deal with a lot recently.â she apologizes.
âI can tell. Iâve wanted so long to come see you again, especially with all youâve been through. If only I couldâve come clean and comfort you earlier.â the mysterious masked informant laments.
âAlright, wow. Leaning a little hard arenât you?â
âWell, what else do you want from me? Its been eating up inside thinking about what you mustâve been feeling all these months now, all that time weâve been apart.â
âWhoa easy, justâŠwho the hell are you?â
âReally? You havenât figured out who I am yet? I canât believe you didnât put the pieces together by now, Satsy?â
âSatâŠSatsyâŠâ the lively psychic utters.
Reaching to the silly mask used to cover their visage, the informant pries the veil of her anonymity away to present to Satette the woman underneath; her long brunette locks unfurling from underneath the hoodie as sheâs finally able look upon the psychic she had so deeply yearned for with her naked jade eyes.
Wells of emotion surge within every fiber of Satâs being in beholding the informantâs caucasian visage; tears of swelling joy running down her cheeks as she recognizes the woman standing before as someone dearly beloved once thought lost. Satette, so shaken to her very core, that she canât help but tremble as she whispers in hopeful disbelief:
âJannaâŠâ