"Yeah. Better." Mark groaned, almost pawing at the fresh bandages over his thigh, stopping himself just inches short.
"Well, I for one appreciate you coming to my rescue back there!" Rex thanked his boyfriend, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Although, you probably should've avoided the creature made of literal spikes!" He teased.
Mark forced a grin. "Yeah, I guess so." He grunted, slowly climbing up off the medical cot, landing onto shaky feet. His breathing pitched up when he was upright, barely supressed pain forced out through his nostrils instead of his voice.
Rex's face stilled once he heard Mark's struggling. He was at his side, a supportive hand on his waist. Hey, hey, easy. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Mark grunted. He took a slow step, but almost fell over when it was completed, growling.
"No, you're not. Honey, listen..." Rex replied, now stopping him from toppling over by propping him up. "You can still float, right?"
"Y-yeah?"
"So float."
Mark looked confused. "Float? Why would I... float?"
"Because you might actually die if you try and force yourself to walk, Mark. Please, float." Rex pleaded with him.
Mark's breathing slowed. He gave a quick little nod, before looking down at his feet. He let go of that inner muscle, the one he kept tensed most of the time he was awake, and let go of the ground. Gravity's clutch seemed to slip from his body, and he drifted quietly into mid-air. Almost as soon as he let himself hover, his frame tensed, his shoulders hunched slightly, and he averted his eyes from Rex.
"What's wrong?" Rex asked, pulling off his goggles and cowl, letting his loose brown hair flop out unceremoniously.
Mark hesitated to speak for a moment. "I don't usually... use my powers like this. I don't use them... as Mark. Only as Invincible."
"Why?"
"It... my dad used to do it. Said it 'helped him relax'. Now, I... nevermind."
"Oh." Rex's face looked almost despairing when he realised. "You don't wanna be like him, do you?"
Mark shook his head. "I don't- I... I don't wanna scare you, Rex."
"Mark," He said, holding both of his hands in his own, "You could never scare me. And this? It doesn't mean you're gonna turn into that asshole! It's just... it's a part of who you are, and I love this part of you, because I love every part of you, human and Viltrumite!"
"You do?" Mark's voice was faint, and the glint of tears teased the corners of his eyes.
Rex nodded vigorously. "Of course I do, Mark. I can't love you if I can't accept you, now can I?"
Mark didn't know what to say. The tears grew, threatening to spill over. "You... thank you!" In an instant, he had swooped in and gathered Rex up in his arms, placing rapid kisses over his face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! God, I love you!"
"What you said earlier." Mark reminded him, briefly pausing to punch a ninja square in the face. "Something about us moving in together?"
Rex snapped a sword, before ducking and driving his elbow into another's face. "Oh yeah, that! Well, you're in your final year of college and I've been gathering all this money, so... you know, thought I'd look!"
"Alright! What did you find so far?"
Rex slipped under a sai, wincing as it narrowly missed his cheek. He wrapped his arms around the ninja's waist and pulled hard, sending them crashing to the floor in a suplex manoeuvre. "Well, there's only about five of them we can afford in the entire state. First one's rent is pretty low for the area, but the landlord is an asshole!"
"Not worth it. If he's anything like my old boss at Burger-Mart, I'm not living there!" Mark replied, not missing a beat as he tossed a desk into a group of goons. "Or my Business Studies professor, actually, cause I'm still not over that!"
Rex would've chuckled at that, if he wasn't already busy trying not to get stabbed. "Uh huh. Two are inner-city, so rent's not that bad, but they’re pretty small and barebones. Oh, and- Jesus!- and there's two on the outskirts of the city that look pretty nice, but the rent is just way too high for my standards!”
“Barebones is fine. The money left over from my dad’s book sales should cover the cost of furniture and stuff, so that leaves the deposit and rent over. You can cover the first month, right?”
Rex chuckled. “Try the first year and then some!”
“Oh-hoh, really? And how much money did you save up, exactly?” Mark asked in an intrigued manner, not even noticing as a thug broke their hand trying to punch him.
“A fair few hundred, but there’s a lot more on the way. Trust me!” Rex reassured him.
“Alright. Well, either way, you still gotta meet my halmani!”
“Okay, my Korean is still a little basic, I’ll admit,” Rex confessed, “but... I’m sorry, did you mention your grandma? What’s up with that?”
Mark grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much! From what Mom’s told her about you already, Nana Hei-Ran’s gonna love you when she flies over from Busan! Well, mostly at least. That reminds me, do you have a problem with K-dramas?”
“I... don’t think so?”
“Good, cause K-dramas are like one of the unavoidable things you have to deal with when you join my family, so... yeah, good start!”
"Lost it? Lost it?!" Rex all but yelled, staring at his brother in sheer incredulity. "Ian, you ate someone!"
Ian scoffed. "Okay. That's a bit of an exaggeration, Rex."
"No, it's fucking not! You literally just tore someone to shreds and ate them!"
Kate spoke up next. "Seriously though, what the fuck was that, Ian?! That was terrifying!"
Ian looked around himself. He was actually drenched in blood that he didn't recognise, blood that didn't smell... human. "Wait, was this a Viltrumite?"
"Wha... uh, yeah! More specifically, an evil version of my boyfriend!" Rex spluttered, trying to avoid looking at the scene in front of him. "Oh god! Did you have to do that, Ian? I'm traumatized enough already!"
Paul just stood there, unmoving as he watched the aftermath of his boyfriend's brief lapse in humanity.
"And now look! You've traumatized my brother, too! He's still shocked from having to see that!" Kate exclaimed, shaking him by the shoulders.
Paul's cheeks tinted pink.
"See, this is what- oh my god. You- Paul, you-?" Kate asked incredulously, shocked by his blushing. "You're into that?!"
Paul coughed. "Um... no?"
"Jesus Christ, you know what? I'm going home. You two deserve each other!" The other Cha twin relented, turning away and beginning to walk away from the scene. "Had to be twins with a monsterfucker, didn't I?"
"I'm done. I'm gonna need to wash my eyes with bleach after that shit!" Rex declared, following her out.
"Ok... I need a shower." Ian thought out loud, looking himself over.
"Yeah." Paul agreed. "You wanna get something to eat afterwards?"
“Yeah, yeah, in a minute, love,” Ian said, not even looking back as he sat hunched over, scribbling ink onto the old yellowing pages of the spell book. “Just gotta make sure this is right before I put it away...!”
“Ian...” Paul called.
“Yeah, I know, just lemme-!”
“Ian.”
Ian stopped at the word. He slowly turned his head to look behind the collar of his cloak, spying the less than pleased look on his boyfriend’s face. “Ah... you planned something, didn’t you?”
“That I did.” Paul confirmed, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow as he tapped his foot on the floor. “So, d’you wanna stay in here and keep scribbling who-knows-what in that book while you reek like a dead cat,” He asked, “Or do you wanna shower for probably the first time this week, and join me on the couch in clothes that are actually clean?”
Ian blinked. His gaze flitted between his partner and the book. “Well... now that I think about it, the book can wait a day or two?”
“If you think so, honey.”
---
Ian scratched his neck, pulling at the hem of his beaten green tee. The Séance Dog logo had largely faded off the front of it from being washed so many times, only a few flecks of paint left. His lounge pants were partially eaten by moths, littered with holes around the waist and ankles that often joined together to expose the clothes’ insides or, more commonly, his bare legs. Most of these clothes had been around for at least three or four years, fished out of a clothing bin in Singapore or stolen from someone’s washing lines.
“You ready, Ian?” He heard from downstairs. He checked his hair (not quite as messy as it usually was) before trudging down the polished spruce steps, his slippers making muffled padding noises.
Paul was currently draped across one half of the red leather couch, sitting in a pair of grey sweatpants and his old Sacramento Kings jersey. His fingers drummed on the top of the TV remote as he eyed his boyfriend’s entry into the room. “Have I ever told you how well you clean up?”
Ian scoffed. “Alright, I get it! I’ll try and shower more!” He replied, rubbing at his eyes as he sat down. “Spirits, how long have I been up?!”
“About three... no, four days straight.” Paul told him. He shifted, now draping himself over the wizard. “You might be the only magic-user who does what you do, but that doesn’t mean you have to work yourself to death trying to fix every problem that comes your way! You’re only human, Ian.”
“Well, half human.”
Paul’s frown made Ian realise that his joke could’ve had better timing.
“...I know what you mean, love. It’s just that I... I’m still new at this, y’know? I’ve gotta show everyone that I can pull my weight!” Ian confessed, blinking through bloodshot eyes at the ceiling as his head lolled back. “This whole ‘mystic defender of Earth’ schtick is the first thing I’ve had that could actually be long-term for me. I wanna be, well, worthy of it!”
“Worthy?” Paul asked, surprised by his choice of words. “Ian, you’re already worthy of it about a hundred times over! Hell, you’ve been at this less than a year and you’ve already saved the world about half a dozen times at the very least! And if that doesn’t convince you, then...,” He got closer, his mouth close to Ian’s ear, “then know that you’re worthy to me!”
Ian paused. Then, a smile worked its way across his face. “Are you still wearing that old thing? Not complaining though, ‘specially with the view I get when you do!”
Paul looked confused for a moment, before he realised what the wizard was talking about. His basketball jersey had always been about three sizes too large for his torso, showing off his lean yet somewhat muscled body and arms. “Okay, you raging horndog, simmer down!” He ordered, lightly batting his boyfriend’s arm. “Besides, how am I gonna throw this away? An authentic Kings jersey signed by my first male crush, Darren Collinson? What are you, crazy?”
“Pfft, Darren Collinson, what’s so special about him?” Ian grumbled. “So what, he plays for the NBA? I could play for the NBA if I wanted!”
“I’m sure you could, Ian! Now quiet, I’m putting a movie on!”
"I- no, I-!" The Viltrumite stammered, sweating profusely in front of his superior. "I mean- it's just that the- the prisoner-!"
"Pardon me, Commander," The elder Viltrumite sneered down at him, "but your inane yammering does not sound like an apology to me. Do I need to remind you of my policy on such flagrant of snivelling?"
Almost immediately, the commander straightened up, scared into calmness by the subtle threat. "My apologies, General. I shall work on apologising more acceptably in future." He rattled off all at once, so monotonously that he could easily be mistaken for an android. "It's the prisoner, General."
"Which one?" The general sighed in exasperation, her brows creased.
"The Unopan, General. He escaped."
Her head snapped up so fast it almost caused a shockwave. "What?!"
---
"Just so you know, I'm really grateful for the rescue and all," Allen struggled to think through the pain, "but your claw thingies are really digging into my side!"
"Hmm? Oh, jha'ag! Sorry, sometimes I forget not every species is as dense as mine!" The stranger apologised, setting him down on a nearby boulder. "Is that better?"
Allen nodded. "Much better! So, uh, did the Coalition send you? Is Thadeus that worried about me?"
The stranger tilted their head. "What's a ‘Thadeus’?"
"Guess not. Hey, wait a minute," he noticed, "You're a Miq'otas, right? From the Alr'ior Quadrant? Man, I thought the Viltrumites wiped you guys out decades ago!"
"Well, they tried!" The stranger replied. Their gaze turned upwards, spotting a small cloud of white spots approaching. "Speaking of which, here comes the afterparty! Ok, V'zar, showtime!" They thought aloud, taking a few steps along the surface of the small dwarf planet. They tensed, and the strangest thing began to happen: their body began to exude a searing golden light, wafting off them in waves of cosmic energy that spilled over onto the rocky surface, lifting small pieces of rock up off the ground. Their legs bent, and they rocketed off into the vastness of space like a shooting star, a thin trail of ghost-light following behind them as they tore through space at breakneck speed.
---
"Unbelievable! You should be thanking the forebears that Grand Regent Thragg has not already heard of this blunder, Commander!" the general practically yelled into her subordinate's head. "If it were not for the threat that the prisoner posed, I would've beaten you within an inch of your miserable-!" She sneered through her thought receiver, but was cut off when a flash of bright light rippled from behind her, knocking her and several others off-balance for a moment or two. The general righted herself quickly, before pivoting around to search for the cause of the explosion. Nothing, not even her fearful subordinate. "Commander?"
The commander was gone. Well, not completely, if the detached smouldering arm that floated by her was any indication. No sooner had the general registered what had happened, another Viltrumite was attacked, snatched by a flash of gold. Then all hell seemed to break loose, bolts of light flashing against the inky darkness of deep space as the streak of searing energy whipped between the many warriors of Viltrum, cutting and ploughing through one after another, roaring through space like a homicidal comet. Before she even realised, the streak had turned its sights on the general. She readied her best combat stance and charged it, but was no match for the sheer velocity of the ball of energy. The impact of it tore through her like she were made of paper, violently bursting her open like the universe’s goriest balloon, scattering appendages among the stars.
At the sight of their leader being dispatched, the warriors’ morale seemed to desert them completely, a number of them turning and flying back to the warship they had come from. The stranger became emboldened by their retreat, grabbing a floating limb and throwing it in their direction. “Yeah, that’s right! Run, shu’jhakz! Tell your leader Agent Asteroid said hi!”
“Agent Asteroid?” Allen questioned, floating up next to his rescuer. “You sure you’re not with the Coalition?” He asked. Now that he was level with the stranger, he finally got a good look at them: like all Miq’otas he had met, they were tall and thinly built, their reed-like limbs combining with their leaf-green skin to make them seem more like a sentient plant. Their face was mostly featureless, save for a pair of beady yellow eyes devoid of irises, as well as a pair of small patches, one on both sides of their head, that glowed with a faint white light. The rescuer’s hands were small compared to his, each with two claws that resembled fingers, and a smaller claw resembling a thumb. Their feet were much more basic, possessing feet similar to humans with the exceptions of having no toes. Their attire, however, was quite different from what he knew of Miq’otas culture: it resembled a space suit used by other Coalition agents, but was clearly assembled from scrapped pieces of armour, dented and slightly rusty, with burns along the edges visible under the crudely applied red and gold paint. Around them was a thin sheen of burning energy, coating their skin in a layer of cosmic light and occasionally rolled off their body and dissipated, reminding Allen of yellow suns that sometimes ejected their mass in massive coronas of gas and heat.
“Well, I applied, but they never got back to me. Which in hindsight is probably my fault for losing my communicator, but...,” V’zar wondered, shrugging, “Hey, aren’t you that really Unopan guy? Ellen, right?”
“Allen, actually, but yeah, that’s me. How did you find me, anyway?”
“Oh, I was just coming back from Urath and-”
“Urath?” Allen cut in, his singular eye widening at the mention of the planet. “I’ve been trying to get there for almost a whole solar cycle! How’re things on there anyway? I’m supposed to check on them!”
V’zar stilled. Nothing changed on his mostly featureless face, but the sudden tension in his tall spindly frame betrayed his embarrassment. “Uh... not good, to be honest with you.” They admitted, scratching the underside of their head. “On the bright side, at least the Viltrumites won’t be invading anytime soon!”
“...okay, I guess.” Allen nodded. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, I should probably head back to Talescria.” He moved to turn and fly away, but stopped. “Do you... wanna come with?”
V’zar whipped around, their orange orbs almost glowing. “Really?!”
“Of course, dude! You saved my life!” Allen affirmed. “Thadeus said we should always look for new recruits for the Coalition’s field agency. You’d fit in perfectly!”
“Oh, that is so klul’ghaz! I always wanted to be an actual agent. Thanks, dude!”
“What? How can you tell me to leave them when they slander me so?!” Thula sneered. “Grrahh, I should tear her head from her shoulders!”
Kyle had to hold his wife back and stop her from committing murder in public. “Hey, hey, it’s just a PTA meeting! Meredith ain’t a threat, honey, just a bible-thumping soccer mom!” He reassured her, trying to keep from literally tearing into the woman.
“She dares to insinuate that my abilities as a mother are inadequate... because I don’t know how to make a pie?!” Thula scowled. She seethed in the direction of the smug middle-aged woman across the room, who was currently engrossed in bragging about her cooking skills to the small gaggle of parents that had gathered around her. “I will have vengeance upon her!”
Kyle, meanwhile, was still trying to get them out of the room before someone died. “Yep, and I’m sure you will, darling! Just don’t kill anyone in the process, ‘kay?”
A light came on in Thula’s head. Her husband was right. In fact, if all went according to plan, she wouldn’t even need to kill anyone. “Yes... we should go, now.”
“My thoughts exactly!”
---
Thula sat in the nearly empty office of the family farmhouse, staring at the note-covered bulletin board in front of her. Her fingers drummed the arm of the chair, and her face was etched with a sly half-smile. The board was chock full of various pieces of intelligence and overheard gossip about the other parents and teachers from the elementary school, and nestled in the centre of this web was her target: Meredith De Vries, mother of four and the unapologetic owner of that ugly Ford Ranger that always took up twice the amount of parking spaces as were needed. She was a human peacock, flaunting and bragging her way around town, always yammering on about her successful lawyer husband and big fancy suburb house (Thula was terrified the first time she went into the suburbs), and how she was the president of the Homeowners’ Association and the Parent-Teacher Association and this thing and that thing and all manner of things that Thula couldn’t care less about. The only thing about her that did interest her was an event that was quickly oncoming: the PTA church social, supposedly meant to raise funds for school supplies, but instead likely another chance for Meredith to show off. But if Thula could surpass her, upstage the woman at her event, it would be social destruction- no, social dismemberment. The thought filled Thula with glee.
“Simon, dear?” She called, and a raven-haired boy poked his head around the corner. Simon was the younger of their two children, born almost two years to the day after his sister, and taking much more after her, including developing the usual abilities of a Viltrumite at just seven years old. “Could you call your father in, please?”
“Okay, Ma!” He chirped. Despite looking like a male version of Thula, Simon had all the tone and mannerisms of his father. He glided across the floor and out the back door, the wind whooshing slightly beneath his feet. After a couple of minutes of silence, Kyle trod in, dressed in his usual ‘I have just cleaned the pig pens and don’t even want to think about mud for the next three hours’ attire.
“Yeah honey, what is i- sweet baby Jesus!” He exclaimed, eyes going wide at the state of the office. “Uh, listen darling, you know I love it when you get all creative, but uh... what the hell is this, exactly?”
“This, dear husband, is victory. And for Meredith, it is complete and utter destruction!” Thula explained with an almost wicked smile across her face.
Kyle’s brows creased. “Okay, so before I hear anymore of this, you’re not actually gonna like... hurt her, are you?”
“Oh absolutely not, dear! And that is the true genius of my strategy,” Thula replied, “for I will ruin her life without laying a finger upon her! Allow me to explain...”
---
The day had arrived. The parents, teachers and children turned up in droves outside the church, slowly filtering onto the green where the many tables of food both sweet and savoury. The battlefield was set. Now she just had to wait for the enemy to arrive.
It didn’t take long. The awful grumbling of that Ford Ranger could be heard getting closer, and soon enough, the monstrous vehicle roared into the parking lot, swinging around to fill three parking spaces. Meredith had to clamber down from the driver’s seat due to her short stature, gathering up a few armfuls of Tupperware before almost race-walking over. Her face was as smug as always, but it soon changed once she came face-to-face with Thula.
The tables at which parents could display their food for sale were taken on a ‘first come first serve’ basis, and the one that Thula had chosen was perhaps one of the best: in the central area of the green, but also quite visible to anyone who was just coming in, making it already one of the most popular stalls so far, with her and her husband already having collected a handsome sum of money. But another reason, perhaps the most important, was that Meredith had near-constantly implied that this table would be hers, and while the others might’ve been too afraid to even think of going against her, Thula had faced much worse than her, and only respected the rules of the social. First come first serve, indeed.
“Meredith, dear! So glad you could make it!” She greeted, the fake cheeriness obvious. While on any other day, she would levy every curse that Viltrum had to offer, today she had to keep up the façade of the normal human housewife in order for her plan to succeed. Instead of trying to strangle the other woman, Thula instead made a gesture towards the various baked goods on her stall. “Anything catch your eye? I’d recommend my husband’s apple pie if you’re looking something with a fruity kick!”
Meredith didn’t say anything, just kept that scowl across her face and moved off, quietly grumbling. That made Thula feel good. “Uh oh,” She heard from her right, “She looks like she’s gonna blow a gasket!”
“Stage one of the plan is complete. Now for stage two.”
“What’s stage two, again?”
“Simple, dear: we fundraise.”
For the next couple of hours, they went about their business, selling more and more of their sweet cakes and fruity pies as the day passed. Occasionally, Thula would steal glances behind herself to keep tabs on Meredith. For all of her supposed popularity with the other parents, her stall was far from busy. In fact, in the entire time she had been there, she had barely shifted any stock whatsoever. The only thing that was changing regularly was the shade of red on her face, and how quickly it got darker. Now for the coup de grace. Thula waited until Meredith noticed her staring, then flashed her best shit-eating grin and paired it with a wave.
The effect was almost instant, Meredith visibly growling and stomping over to her stall. She jabbed a finger towards Thula in an accusatory manner, demanding “Just who do you think you are?”
“I’m sorry, Meredith, are you feeling alright?” She asked, slowly brushing the finger away. “You look terrible!”
Meredith’s eyes looked like they were going to pop from their sockets in anger. “You knew that this this was my stall, madam! It’s not polite to take someone else’s stall!”
“Oh, was this your stall? I apologise, but as far as I was aware, these stalls were filled on a first come basis!” Thula replied, desperately trying to conceal her laughter behind a large smile. “Oh, are the parking spaces also on that same basis, because I remember someone having a problem with the position of your Ford!”
Despite how innocuous she believed that comment seemed, apparently it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Oh, you uppity bitch!” Meredith swore aloud, drawing gasps from around her, before rearing he hand and slapping Thula across the face. Despite possibly being the weakest attack she had ever received, Thula acted as if it had actually hurt her, stumbling just enough to seem believable and covering her cheek, more to hide the lack of damage.
Meredith, meanwhile, hadn’t even stopped to realise how badly she had messed up, pivoting on her heel before stomping away to her vehicle. A balding man in a nice suit ran after her, and Kyle raced over not long after. Despite looking and acting concerned, his words were perfectly calm: “So, plan succeeded?”
"What, you don't see it?" Layla laughed at him. "Look: the thick bushy eyebrows, the strong nose, even the same grumpy look on his face. He could be your twin!" She explained, pointing out each feature on the sloppily-made snowman's visage.
Samson let out a little chuckle, but stifled it when Layla looked his way. "Would it kill you to compliment me once in a while?" He asked, the faux-seriousness heavy.
"Pfft, I compliment you every day! If anything, I should be insulting you more than I do!" She joked, taking a few steps through the ankle-high snow, listening to it crunch underfoot. "It would balance your karma a lot better!"
“I’ve never been one for karma, Layla. You know that.” Samson said, stepping closer to her with much less noise.
“Maybe you should be! God knows you could use some luck out there!”
---
Samson stared at the photo. It had been taken not long after their conversation, not long before they had shared a kiss on a nearby hill. It sat on his bedside table, a perfectly crystallised memory frozen in paper. A happier time. A different time.
He sighed. That ship had sailed. They understood why they wouldn’t work out, had moved on and were different people now. Yet had he told you that he’d never thought of what could’ve been, the lie couldn’t be more obvious.
The alarm went off. Guardian problems.
The same problems had bought the strongest relationship of his life crashing down in flames. But he had a job to do. He always had a job to do, to the detriment of all else.
"I mean," Nikki explained, a look of slight confusion on her face, "well, look at it! It's a cool magic sword! And it's glowing, too! That means it's super powerful!"
The sword in question was, in fairness, quite imposing: it was laid upon a fine black cloth in an enchanted display case, heavily warded to prevent any would-be burglars. Its old and marred steel glinting under nearby candlelight. The glowing that Nikki mentioned was actually just a multitude of purple crystals embedded into the cross guard and along the blade's length, their interactions with the lights giving the illusion of a dark glow.
"What, this thing?" Ian pointed at the object, smiling at her comments. "Yeah, it's a sword, but it's not a weapon! Quite the opposite, in fact!"
Nikki didn't seem to understand, from what the look on her face told him. "What do you mean? How can a sword not be a weapon?"
"Simple. When you use it to help instead of harm." Ian gestured to it again. "Once upon a time, this was a weapon, made to kill and maim without qualm or care for who it harmed. But one day, a wizened man by the name of Khalid ibn al-Fayed found it, lying with the body of its former owner after the Siege of Acre. He saw a weapon, one that had been used to mercilessly slaughter many of his fellow Muslims, and deigned a different purpose for it. Once it was just a sword, but now... it's the Void Walker's Guide, a tool that can pierce the very fabric of the universe with but a swipe. I held it once, used it... and I met the female version of me, if you can believe it!"
Nikki's eyes widened. "Wait, really? There's a girl you out there?"
"Yeah. Ira. She's... well, she's me, I guess. There's probably a guy version of you, too. Nick, maybe." He smiled. "Yeah, probably Nick."
Nikki looked at the sword. "It can... can it really do all that? Can I really do all that?"
"One day." Ian replied. "When you're old enough. And I trust you with the most powerful artefact in existence. Which isn't anytime soon, before you go getting any ideas."
