2.8 Geb
23th of February, 2011
I straighten away from my workstation in the attics while ignoring the shiver-inducing popping sound in the low of my back.
"Hope you like it little buddy," I whisper to Dell while giving his new 'housing' a couple of fond pats. I honestly have no idea how I managed to transfer an incorporeal entity between one Cogitator to the next since I mostly blanked out for that particular part – though my money is on an esoteric and clever application of YuGiOh's spiritual mumbo-jumbo – but considering how its new fans are positively purring with happiness the little guy likes it.
I give the repurposed ARC-V Duel Disk's casing a last, long look before nodding to myself in satisfaction. Matte black bar its touch-screen, my longest ally in this world now easily sports a hundred times its old computational power for a fifth of its previous size. I even managed to cram both a hologram generator and a wifi port that it accepted with good grace and I can now bring it everywhere with me hidden under the sleeve of my school uniform's blazer!
If I really need to, which I honestly doubt about, but it's a possibility that bears mentioning. Anyway, the most important part is that I'm now very knowledgeable about both computers and miniaturization in general, which hopefully will smoothly transfer over once I'm done with my current specialization.
"Only one thing remaining and I'll have accomplished everything I was looking for," I happily sigh, "And all of that in spite of my magical education eating at my time like it's going out of fashion."
I get a fond, ghostly pat for my trouble which I pout at.
This week's spell had been an interesting one to say the least and once again took me the better part of two nights to get it right.
The spell in question? Dark Sanctuary, the manga/anime-only magic that sets a ghost on Dark Necrofear's killer and leeches health points when the haunted Duel Monster attacks.
Again, it is another prerequisite to Dark-chan's not so little self-reviving trick since the end goal is for the caster to turn their killers on themselves by possessing one of them and gathering enough life energy back on the sly during the confusion that follows.
It's devious, almost elegantly so, and absolutely merciless. But there's also a very glaring limitation in Dark-chan's repertory since it is proportionally less effective the less opponents the ghost of the Dark Sanctuary can haunt. An unmatched strategy against multiple weak enemies, but a poor one against one lone champion.
The Fiend actually pulled a very funny face when I remarked on that particular factoid, before begrudgingly admitting that I was in the right.
But it also helped me recontextualize her other signature spell, Destiny Board. Its goal isn't really to kill its targets, but to create another incentive to force its allies to attack her puppeted victim, no matter the cost, less they keel over dead when the last letter gets revealed.
Again, very fiendish of my Spirit and I'm both in awe and genuinely frightened by her cold, calculative cunning.
I repress a yawn that threatens my jaw's integrity and promptly check the hour before deciding that, yes, I should probably go to bed.
After all, the bin chicken is supposed to attack tomorrow and I'd rather be at my peak just in case she decides to show up.
***
24th of February, 2011
The class has barely started when the teacher suddenly blanches after looking at her phone. Missus Anderson remains staring at its screen for nearly ten long seconds before she visibly gets a grip back on her emotion and looks up with a grave expression.
"School is canceled for the day," the forty-something woman utters, her face betraying nothing, "Buses will be available in one hour's time for those unable to go back home by themselves. Please remain calm, and remain in our classrooms for the time being."
Nobody asks what is happening, because everybody already knows, and all it takes Missy to confirm her very strong suspicion is to give her work phone a look to confirm it.
An Endbringer has started its attack. The Simurgh has descended on Canberra, Australia's capital.
For a short beat, Missy itches to call for a PRT transport to the Downtown HQ. She feels the call of battle in her heart, something in the back of her mind urging her to do something, anything but remain on the sidelines one more time. To risk her life to maybe save one more before it is too late, like a true hero would!
Then she remembers that her parents – in one of those too few times where they actually agree on something – categorically refused to sign the waiver allowing her to participate during Endbringer battles and quickly sober up.
Feeling both angsty and dejected in equal measure, the Shaker lets her head softly hit her table to better let her eyes roam the classroom in a bid to find a distraction to her churning thoughts.
Both Caroline and Adelaide are already huddled close together, sharing anxious looks and whispered reassurances that she honestly doesn't really get.
Idly, the Ward starts wondering how Louise and Jacky are coping with the news in the next classroom over.
Then she imagines Louise getting yelled at by the teacher after making a joke a little too dark for the mood and Jacky trying her hardest to pretend she's disappointed in her while primly hiding a grin.
And despite herself and the situation at large, Missy smiles with her mouth hidden in her arms.
***
"Miss Johnson, this is no laughing matter!" my teacher scowls harshly Louise's way while I valiantly try to keep my laughter in.
To my defense, my friend's 'Isn't it a bit late for Thanksgiving?' delivery – complete with a confused look – was absolutely on point and nearly had me in stitches. Only one person in the whole classroom had the sheer adamantine balls to compare the Hope Killer to a turkey out loud, and it was neither me nor the wannabe jocks who are currently all looking equally pale-faced despite their usual loud bouts of bravado.
I keep silent as Missus Fawkes lay it on Louise for a solid couple of minutes, using big sentences like 'showing some respect' and 'think about the poor children your age over there' before eventually ending with some more screeching including the word 'detention'.
Only then do I inch myself closer to my friend to whisper in her ear:
"I almost laughed out loud."
The boisterous girl directs a quick if a bit shaky smile my way before plastering a properly chastised expression back on her face.
I don't exactly need the subtitles to understand that dark humor is her own way to cope with the situation and promptly decides to not perturb the solemn mood that has settled on the classroom.
After all, I'd be lying if I pretended that I'm not relieved about birdbrain the first not paying me a visit.
***
27th of February, 2011
The remainder of the week in the wake of an Endbringer attack had been a quiet and subdued affair in the Bay, and I think the world at large in general.
I hadn't exactly paid attention to those, but I had memories of spending time at home huddled together with my parents while anxiously waiting for the storm to pass. I guess I never truly realized how exactly the 'normies' cope with living in a world getting increasingly more wrecked each time one of the murder-kaijus do their little show-and-tell for Davy-boy's tiny dick syndrome's benefit; but the answer is very poorly.
See, at least a parahuman has the illusion that he can stand up and fight against the encroaching end. Which is very much not the case for Jeremy the Mid, whose sole source of anxiety should've been finding himself a wife and how to finish paying his student's loan thirty years ago, except now he also has to deal with the fact that he can lose everything to the (un)living embodiment of an evil force of nature that wants him and his fellow humans very much dead.
No wonder people turn to hard drugs and Endbringer worship in this fraked up world. I know I'd be seriously considering the former if I was powerless to change a thing about this situation too. Doubly so since I know how it is supposed to end, and the butterflies of my existence may have forever closed that particular path.
Consequently, the mood in the Barnes' house had been rather heavy for the past few days, the discussions stilted and perfunctory, like death row inmates going through the motions despite knowing they're condemned.
I fraking hate it. I hate it with a burning passion. At this point, I'd rather deal with Emma's badly concealed attempts at trying to verbally trip me and force me to admit that I'm some manner of cape – and boy are those getting increasingly sillier and mentally exhausting – than this mood that wouldn't look out of place in a funeral home.
So, I pulled what's called a pro-gamer move and isolated myself in my room while waiting for the storm to pass as much as I possibly could. The place now positively reeks of incense – a general upside when compared to growing young teenage girl sweat in any case – after spending way too much time programming holograms into Dell. It earned me a quiet talk with aunt Zoey where she asked me if I was religious and I pretended that I just liked the smell. And when I ended up getting tired of programming, I drew a little.
And at night, I finally got around to crafting a down scalled version of the Ener-D generator, which has been a resounding success in the sense that I'm now self-sufficient electricity-wise, the 'car battery'-sized almost-but-not-quite perpetual motion engine quietly humming in the attics' background as I count the seconds to midnight.
An inquisitive ghost-like touch on my shoulder.
"Oh? Do you want to wait for the shift with me, Dark-chan?" I ask the empty air quietly.
A determined feeling tinted with an almost imperceptible touch of fretting hovers at the edge of my thoughts and I slowly nod in understanding.
"Don't worry," the edges of my lips curl up a little as I tap on my wrist Cogitator with my index a couple of times, "If Dell stayed with me, there's no reason you won't."
I quietly giggle in my hand when all I get as an answer is an impression of offended pride.
I fall silent as the last minute comes and goes, and mentally thanks both Atem and Seto Kaiba for their gifts as the timer in the back of my mind ticks one last time.
Everything shifts for the second time since I woke up with this power–
–and I find myself frowning a little.
"Alright, is this a not so subtle hint to go beat up the Nazis or something?" I can't help but wonder aloud while stoically ignoring Dark-chan's quiet feeling of relief that I'm not entirely certain she intended to share.
I guess it would kinda track.
At the very least, I know it would make B.J. Blazkowicz damn proud of me.
[AN: The last week with YuGiOh goes relatively quietly and we get some more insights into how the world reacts when God-like entities trod on it.
For those of you who didn't get the hint, we're embarking into the wonderful dystopia of Wolfenstein next!
Hope you enjoy, xoxo!]