#p-56

[nocternalrandomness]

Shuttleworth's Percival Provost seen at the 2024 Best of British Flying Show at Old Warden

[j-r-macready]

Panned Piston Provost by Treflyn Lloyd-Roberts Via Flickr: Percival P-56 Provost T.1 XF603 takes off from Old Warden Aerodrome to take part in the Shuttleworth Collection's July 2020 Drive-in Evening Airshow.

[portalofstars]

@writeworld

“He’s not at Home” - Thank you so much for the prompt! I just had to get this scene outta my head after reading your prompt. 

____ A figure wrapped in the shreds of twenty different shirts, wearing black faux-denim pants that had reduced down to shorts, stood atop the town of Auregree’s Library step-walls. Slender sickly thin bony fingers gently grabbed onto the curve of a stone lion’s mane; the ground was rumbling as Nueka York lit up despite it being the afternoon. The city so far off had progressed buildings that towered high above the clouds since the third calendar’s advancements in architecture...

Now, it was gleaming eclipsed reds that could only mean one thing: War.

The eighteen year old squinted at the sight, pale blue lips twisting into a frown as they tried to shout ‘no,’ at the cause. Their voice silent because of the surgery done to their vocal chords.

The ground trembled more violently, but their worn rubber soles managed to cling to the crumbling concrete that cracked at the impacts happening in the city ten miles away from them. A dark cloud was brewing above the city, threatening to come their way as it billowed in an unmistakable fashion. Missiles crushed the resistance before it could even hope to recover as white projectiles sailed through the air towards the city.

Weary, the figure felt their calves threaten to spasm, but then they were dropping down to the old-timey style concrete steps. They ran over cracked pavement where strange green organisms threatened to peek and thrive given the chance.

Townsfolk were starting to exclaim their horrors as now the city so far away crumbled. A woman screamed in futility as she watched in disbelief while the projectiles gave light shows of brilliant oranges and whites closer to the town.

All areas within a 100 mile proximity to the hyper-advanced city would soon realize their time had run out.

Except... People didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of the local ‘horror-show’ running through the crowd of people searching for their loved ones to hold in an attempt for one last moment together. Police workers had no shelters for the event; their town had only known peace since the city had always protected them so vigilantly.

Rushing through the crowd, the eighteen year old tore off their eye blind. 

Piercingly bright sky blue eyes stared in panic at the sky as emotions long buried stirred in their chest. Their shirts they had piled on for winter started to burn away as blue strips of biological hybridized solar energy forced their way out of their skin...

As time seemed to slow for the young individual, their palms thrust through the air in violent swipes. Two wobbling bright blue orbs spun and formed from the strips that came out of their massively chemically scarred chest. These were fired into the air at the first two projectiles aimed for the town from somewhere far west.

With impeccably trained aim that hailed from their hard work since birth, their orbs met the projectiles in time to keep them a half-mile away from the town... Their explosions created a cacophony in their wake as many experienced ringing in their ears from the sound.

The figure wasn’t done; their breathing alternated then to work through the five slits on both their cheeks. Whistles replaced gasps as they gave a battle-cry so fierce it jarred the piece of metal in their throat that kept them mute for so long. 

The noise was raspy, raw, and primal though musically accompanied by the echoing cosmic whistles that rang further than his voice.

With the battle cry came also the formation of white energy mixing into the orbs gathering around his palms. The sky blue light wrapped down his scarred calves before gathering around the soles of his boots- swiftly carrying him then into the air. It was a technique he left unused since his time back in his city of origin; the energy required took a mixture of drugs and food pills.

For now, he would use every reserve his body had; the town had been his haunt and the library- his escape from reality.

Air whipped around his dark and dirty red curls as the young man skated his way into the air. Leaving behind streaks of after-glow from his heels that slowly dissipated as a wake, he had already spotted the incoming volley that the aggressors had sent.

With vigorous shouts, the young man’s skin glowed a brilliant starry white. His arms swung then at the incoming missiles. He sent bursts of solar white orbs as his blood burned in his veins, hearts threatened to beat out of his back, and pupils dilated in attempt to take in all the information it could...

In such close proximity to the explosions, it was no surprise he went deaf as one missile seared his right leg in its last moment.... another exploding above his head and almost knocking him off balance in the air as he pulsed more energy into his feet.

Regaining control after a moment of rag-dolling through the air, he spotted the missile that had slipped past him and pulsed a ring of energy from his palm at it while twisting his body like a feline.

The shot caught its tail. 

His brain had quickly calculated in soldier’s fashion the part of the tail he needed to break in order to send it sailing up into the clouds. His hearts swelled triumphantly as he gave a garbled shout of victory when he saw it explode safely away from the town.

The young man’s mind didn’t cease its vigilant monitoring though. He was turning then to stare at the direction the missiles had come from and flexed his forearms and fingers in anticipation of the next volleys.

Feeling empowered unlike any time he could recall, he was hurting his face with the largest smile he could manage. Blue blistering had arisen from the spots on his right leg where he had been caught by the explosion... 

But, this? 

This was worth all the pain he had ever experienced- for the moment...

He was learning a lesson that had been shrouded by deceit, his creator, and his city’s religion...

The young man was learning that the same brutality and self-sacrifice that went into fixing his mistakes... could be put to use protecting something. Something that he, regrettably, cared about. Caring about something drew this power that matched, if not outshone, the drug Drexcel’s effects.

Twisting in a spiral upwards, the young man gathered white energy around his arms. He didn’t realize his flesh was dissipating into pure energy- fingers replaced by ten white orbs as he charged at the next missiles he spotted....

BOOM... BOOOM....

The townsfolk watched with held breaths. Terror showing in the whites of their eyes as their oncoming doom was thwarted by what they thought was their greatest threat.... 

They were right. This young man... this homeless young man that could not speak their language and sought refuge in their library by the picture book section... a place for children... was a monster that could consume and ravage the attempts, of cities to the West, to kill them.

For a few, he was achieving a heroic mark that made them want to cheer.... if it weren’t for the disapproving and horrified looks of the older generation as they tried to comprehend how light as bright as the sun and stars could possibly be produced by a mere human.

As the last volley was destroyed, and the shock waves of explosions in towns, villages, and cities around them quieted.... The young man coughed out glowing silver-sheened blue blood; his throat also bleeding from where metal slightly poked out of the skin.

His arms were resuming their fleshy state as the energy compressed together to form his cells... His pelvis glowed brightly in the after-math; the shape of a diamond gem glistening in the flames of the grass that he alighted upon gently with pointed toes....

Like a star descending to earth, the ground around him cracked at the pressure his energy caused... But that too passed away as he took a struggling breath in. Listening to the crackling of fire as his hearing returned because the energy that made up his eardrums resumed its proper shape.

Once the soles of his boots were firmly planted, he let all of the solar energy dissipate to travel back into his body.

 Now his sky blue eyes were slightly crystalline; his curls then vibrant red from burning away the grime in such violent heat. With the locks pooling around the angular features of his jawline and chin, he looked eerily pretty for a young man. Pale skin smudged with smoke and blue blisters receding as his energy swallowed up the source of extra-heat.

Long lashes batted as he looked down at his scarred chest, smile gentle as he came off the high of playing hero... He could see the reminder of what he really was glowing from the rim of his pants; the crystal blue diamond’s edge dimming as he stumbled from exhaustion....

In hopes for compassion, he then turned his eyes to the town now three miles away... Carefully walking towards it though his body was starting to feel cold and heavy. Like dragging lead, he was slow to move.

Smoke filled air reached his nose, the billowing dark clouds reminding him of Drukilis as they carried an acrid polluted scent to them... He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear the townsfolk pinning the City of Sin as the cause of all this.

It was dark out aside from the red raging fires that signaled the end of Nueka York’s dominion over the area. No more missiles were inbound as the assailant assumed that everything was destroyed. The young man’s boots crunched against the familiar gravel that made up the first parking lot of the town. Reaching then the huddled masses, he wasn’t surprised as they fell silent while his walk parted them.

A soft blue glow remained in his half-lidded eyes. The light would flicker as his lids threatened to close, but he insisted on continuing on to the only house he could think that may let him seek refuge at that hour.

The crowd followed, occasionally uttering venomously about his freakish powers or the threat of him turning on them if he didn’t get what he wanted in return.

What did he really want anyways?

Was he going to destroy them too after he grew bored of their library?

What a creep he was; he only read picture books in the children’s section!!!

If he destroyed those missiles so easily, would he hold one of them ransom for money?

He was a monster!!! He stared at the women when they walked by him- surely in violent fantasies!

The freak show had to leave town- and he was weak now! Maybe they could even kill him!

Sure, he saved them... but something so far removed from humanity couldn’t possibly have done it for good reason!

That and other such venomous things were whispered, gained traction, recycled, reworded, and then affirmed as factual.

 Meanwhile, the young man kept on his way to the house down Grover’s Street that he had in mind...

Reaching the Librarian’s house, he struggled to lift his feet to get up the stairs that led to the southern country home style porch... Left hand shaking as he tried to ring the doorbell, but despite its awkward pinging.... No one answered.

The crowd spoke up then, starting with a man who ran the local medical ward. “She’s not at home!”

“You should leave us be!” Another man in the crowd spoke up, puffing out his chest while his policeman’s badge glimmered in the weak street light that illuminated part of the group’s heads.

The young man froze up, brows furrowing weakly as he squinted..... Lips pursed then as he shut his eyes tightly, trying to ping the door two more times... Fingers clenching into a fist, he knocked on the door no harder than someone should at that hour. Unintimidating, friendly, and in a neighborly manner as if he were only there to borrow a cup of sugar...

Still, no one came to the door.

Turning to the crowd, he turned his head away- curls hiding the slightly glowing clear tears that were leaking from his eyes.

“Nobody wants you here; you should leave!” It began viciously.

“You’re a threat to our livelihoods!”

“What kind of monster can just destroy missiles and skate through the air!?”

“Leave while you still can or we’ll make you!”

“I’m a trained cop. I will shoot if you don’t get off Mrs. Buttercup’s porch this instant!” The officer from before was stepping forward then.

The young man couldn’t take it anymore... Knees buckling, he collapsed on the porch from pain he allowed himself to feel... Trying so hard to process that he was damaged while his hearts ached and felt like they were being stabbed from their ... surely just worried... words.

Monster... Tool. Monster... Tool.

Why had he ever left the city? Useless.

The young man started to sob as the crowd shouted at him some more, blood dripping from his mouth as pitiful groans and choked sounds sputtered the blue blood onto the porch. These sobs only worsened as he felt a hand grab his bare shoulder roughly, dragging him to his feet before tossing him to the concrete. The impact made his bones creak in protest at the treatment; their oddly light makeup not doing him any favors in that moment.

As the sound of a gun snapped him to a different state, his eyes flew open to stare up at the cop... But in his eyes, the officer might as well have been wearing black armor and been named in Drukilin tongue as reality shifted from what he could perceive.

Despite exhaustion, pain, and loss of hope... He got to his feet and took off at a fumbling run- hand reaching back over his head to shield it from the thrown rocks and other objects as the townsfolk got the reaction they were looking for.

Like lions that waited for their prey to take off rather than fight... The crowd chased him and heckled his achievement.

It wasn’t until he had a couple of new bruises and a fractured right shin bone that he got far enough away from the town that their numbers dwindled to the last woman screeching...

“You stay out of my kids’ nightmares, you hear!? I’ll fuckin’ shoot you if you dare come back and try to trick us- you Gods-damned monster!”

Numbness had since crept in... his body cold all over and dark rings under his eyes as he slowed his steps close to the smoking wreckage of a car that had been jerry-rigged to drive at him... before it crashed into a road-lamp that is.

Blinking slowly, he gave a quiet pitiful whine that garbled as his hand went to his throat... Watching Mrs. Buttercup herself turn her back on him after showing quiet tolerance to his fascination with what they called, ‘books’.

There was a lot to process for him... While he wasn’t sure how much time he had, the young man swallowed as he came to the conclusion that perhaps... he’d best keep an eye out for streaks of white...

The volleys could resume, and the town could be at risk again. The library could catch fire and those stories about men in armor, women in pretty clothes, and green scaled beasts.... They would be lost.

More importantly, the people could all die.

...He still cared.

[portalofstars]

November Challenge #4

Write about something your character can’t forget.

@monthlywritingchallenge - Thank you for the prompt! Wrote this just today. I may or may not continue it. We’ll see!

___________________________________ It was a long hot day in South End for P-56. The glow of the skyline had started as a hazy red, but now it was a darkening gray as the day was giving in to the night. With the crowing and screek’s coming from Alminos, smaller single-bodied aerial expressions of the infection, there was no doubting that night was descending.

His pale and slightly blue tinted flesh was laced with only one or two bites that time. The black oozing infection still rose in the form of steam out of the punctures in his right hip where Ibiminos had caught him off guard during first contact. The pain was minimal though, to his ever-growing knowledge of the sensation, and he remained standing upon a brick and mortar building that once carried the name: Feeder-Shoppe Deluxe. The sign with his city’s special alphabet written on it now dangled into the garbage littered street from rusty chain.

Dressed in his last pair of artificial black denim pants, which were now torn and shredded all the way up to his groin, he dug his left buckle’d boot into a small pile of glass... Relishing in the clinking noises that contrasted the impacts of flesh he’d been hearing since first contact. A small sensory win; it sent a shudder up his spine then to the back of his head where it spread to his crown and temples in almost a tickling feeling. Pleasant- he lingered there just a bit longer in that moment.

Alas, it was growing darker! The young man leaned into his left hip and gave a small arch of his back- minding the tightness of the skin on his chest as he stretched with his smooth neck getting exposed to the sky.

On his right wrist there was an octagonal faced bulky watch which glowed with shades of green on screen. As soon as four PM hit, he mouthed the word, ‘ding’. His mouthing matched the ringing prompt from the watch as it projected in a hologram his next mission prompt.

- Upon assuming you have completed your queue of missions, please complete these tasks...

1. Apply 18 ml of Drexcel to bloodstream.

2. Seek complete darkness in sewer-system AB43 for 10 minutes.

3. Remove training uniform top and activate Cam-Beacon option on your watch.

4. Track down 1 Alino-Lithe.

5. Destroy and wait for attracted Bigo-Lithe.

6. Destroy Bigo-Lithe.

7. Apply 20 ml of Drexcel to bloodstream.

8. Await Cata-Lithe. Alternatively, track down nearest Cata-Lithe from Old Business District of South End rooftops.

9. Destroy once engaging in combat.

10. Assess self-performance levels, damage, and apply 25 ml of Drexcel to oral cavity.

11. Intake 10 Hawk Corp. Nutri-Pills from supply drop once your GPS beacon activates upon researcher confirmed completion of previous tasks.

12. Self-assess your reaction to Drexcel intake in oral cavity.

13. If stable or conscious, proceed to enter G4 in order to engage Deca-Lithe once tracked down. On the way, engage all Minos to avoid hive-aggression.

Permissions to engage, self-dose, and self-assess granted by: Aourul ‘Umbol.

Approval for motions given by: T. Hawk.

With that list of things to do, P-56 gave a silent huff.  Shutting his sky blue eyes behind the eye-blind, he focused on his breathing. Repeating the first four steps in his head and rewarding himself with the growing disconnect from the pain in his hip. 

Wriggling his fingers, he felt the need to fulfill a purpose growing; the motive harmonizing with his cemented beliefs of his entire being having been chosen to exist only as a tool. A tool that was designed to serve, not feel, and carry out what others could not fathom to do... Fix the problem he created in South End when, regrettably, he rebelled against his creator in his immature years.

The greatest sin a tool could commit... Ah...

As he thought over the reason for his current state, he finally achieved that mindset he’d been aiming for.

Feeling nothing but facts. Hearing nothing but data. Opening their eyes to intake nothing but useful information... all cold calculations being made in reaction to input; a tool at its finest state of serving its creator.

They had no identity but their handle: P-56. Drukilis’ cause and cure of the infection. A virus in its own right wielded by Hawk Corp. Kept in check by their glorious tests in the name of Grander: The God of the City of Sin.

The project took a gallant leap off of the crumbling rooftop, landing on their left leg with a crunch of concrete before going into a roll on their shoulder to keep momentum up. Trained muscles pushed their body forward at an almost inhuman rate- endurance seemingly endless as they breathed in the familiar smog-filled air of their creator’s home. 

Black curls whipped around behind their head; their hair having grown a bit longer since its last shaving with the roots showing off hints of lovely reds. These roots contrasted like blood against the dark grimy blood in their hair they had been splashed with earlier that day. Reds were an extinct natural color that had died out after the second calendar reset.

When swift steps pressed hard against the concrete rooftop of a low level building, they spotted their primary objective: A hole down into the sewers. Leaping at the opposing building, clipping their foot lightly against the brick and bouncing between that and the wall of the building they were previously on...they made their way down to the knee deep trash-filled street. Taking no time at all to drop down into the hole, past the smell of rotting flesh and decaying plastics.

Landing in the cold and dank darkness, they made an unexpected squelch sound... their boots pressing into some kind of spongy substance. 

Assuming it was more trash, they reached for a plastic button-locked ammo-box that was tied to their right thigh. Pressing the buckle button to lift the lid and grabbing from inside a needle full of dark purple liquid that slightly glowed every time the needle turned... The ingredients reacting to each other and movement being the cause of the glow.

No matter how many times BlackOut made the project forget the horrors of solo missions... They would never forget their mentor’s tediously repeated lessons on self-administering Drexcel doses. 

The project never realized just what exactly Drexcel did; their mentor replaced the liquids with sugar-filled placebos without their knowledge of the switch. 

Assuming, all this time, they might just get a bit hyper.

As the serum was injected into their wrist, they let out a shocked hiss of air; their vocal chords having been operated on to be useless the year before. The sensation of nausea hit them like a bag of bricks, the world spinning at their feet, eyes unable to focus before adrenaline unlike any they had felt surged... It felt like their hearts were going to cramp up; they were twitching against the skin in their back.

It only got worse from there.