And no, I don't have a fetish for spandex and capes.

There are no comic book stores in Dubai.  So what I've done is I've subscribed to Marvel.com's online comics to get in touch with my pre pubescent roots.

Anyway, Here's a funny panel (to me anyway) I just came across.

Lesson: Some men prefer to accept your admiration from afar.

“What was I thinking?” Chris asked the empty locker room, towel-drying his hair furiously. “Of course she knows Doctor Schaffer. She’s only class head! She probably thinks I’m retarded.” He stood.

Chris swore, punching the locker. He felt his claws flick, and when he saw three thin holes in the metal, he swore again.

seriously. My medical doctor prescribed for me some iron supplements to aid in my quest of gaining Magneto-style magnetism powers (and treat my anemia, which I didn't know I had until last week), and as an added benefit, I have gained the power to produce SOLID BLACK FECES as the iron my body doesn't absorb reaches its final destination. I have ferromagnetic feces. I fuckin' ROCK.

I got my BIG THREE comics yesterday, each of which actually are quite important in the overall grand scheme of things (to its own book).

WALKING DEAD #50.

I can't believe Robert Kirkman's zombie comic steeped in as much realism as horror has lasted this long; that is so damn great, and a sign that American pop culture isn't headed down the tubes after all. Sales of this book have quadrupled in the last 2-ish years. It's a growing, growing movement: The Walking Dead. It seems like every new issue that comes out attracts new readers (the newer books keep breaking TWD sales record). It's a real treat to read this book in the long run; this is the longest I've ever read a comic consecutively, and I get fairly invested in these characters as I'm sure many of the readers do. Kudos though to anyone who's deciding to purchase the book monthly, and NOT wait for the trade paperbacks, because that's really the best way to read any comic long-term; and Walking Dead is very much so "long-term".

Which brings me to this newest issue: a milestone of a mark known as issue #50. This issue especially drives home the "long-term" point. What we're seeing here, and hopefully will see for many many years to come, is a small boy turning into an adult in the pages of this book. Everything is accelerated though, because of the extreme circumstances. Carl, the young boy of the book (he's around 10), has seen more people he knows die than the commoner of our world. He's seen more horrific scenes and been in more dangerous situations than again, any commoner. The problem is that how does growing up so utterly fast effect someone's personality? How does growing up in an environment so full of death and violence mold the adult little Carl will become (and is becoming)? Will he be completely ruthless and only looking out for himself by the time he's 18? How much of his Dad, Rick, is in him? Would he be willing to kill ANYONE in order to protect himself and/or his family?

Issue 50 chronicles Carl's growth more so than anything else we've ever seen. And after the slaughter of almost EVERY character this book was built on in the last couple of issues, it's becoming clear that Carl's evolving into the main character, taking the place of his father in more ways than one. In this issue, Carl comes face to face with his adolescence in the form of three biters bearing down on him. Rick taught Carl how to use a gun when he was pretty damn young, they're two sides to that: he helped Carl become stronger in the face of horror and Carl's a better survivor because of it, on the other hand, putting a deadly weapon in the hands of such a young boy can have dire consequences as well. The status of Rick is finally revealed here also. My how the tables have turned between this father and son, though. I suppose, like any father/son relationship changes over time; it's just that, like I said earlier, under such extreme circumstances everything's amplified. Charlie's art continues to be breathtaking, this is such a great read.

ASTONISHING X-MEN #25 - Ghost Box.

As a new era begins over in the Walking Dead-verse, so it goes with what once was Marvel's premiere X-Men title Astonishing X-Men. As I understand it, they (Marvel) are trying to shift the attention of X-Readers over the the flagship title Uncanny X-Men. And I don't blame them. Soon enough one of the best new writers on the scene will be joining one of the best mainstream writers on the title: Matt Fraction and Ed Brubaker respectively. I'm totally fine with this. The new writer for Astonishing is a little less family-friendly than Joss Whedon is; I speak of course of Warren Ellis, who slowly but surely is becoming a legend of the industry before our eyes. He runs an insane amount of both independent and popular comics. But his style will work perfectly with Astonishing's shift to sub-spotlight.

This grittyness, and at the same time otherworldliness, can be seen about half-way through this issue. While the team is investigating a corpse, which may or may not be mutant, Hank asks Logan to dig out a piece of the body for closer inspection in the lab. With his "pointer" claw out, Wolverine of course obliges him. What he rips out of the torso looks like something from Ellis' Doktor Sleepless or even a 70s horror comic. Not so much for the mainstream X-Reader. Again- I'm totally fine with this new status. Let Mr. Ellis do his thing without too many angry letters and complaints. Simone Bianchi's art as always is hit and miss. He's a wonderful penciler, with a style all his own, but he does have consistency issues. With that being said, I did like the art on this first issue, and I liked what he showed on smaller characters (like Nightcrawler) in the preview issue of his art for Astonishing.

A big big accolade should go out to the colorist and inker of this book. In a way, their touches make Bianchi's art fit Warren Ellis' writing more perfectly. The look of the book is dark, VERY dark. Actually without proper bright light I was having trouble reading it yesterday. But the colors need to be dark, strange, obtuse. With what Ellis is cooking up, I see no need for the uber-bright colorizations of Whedon's run. That stands on its own, and I hope Ellis' will also. Only time will tell. Oh and it's nice to see an even stronger woman, like the now Queen of an African nation, stand up to Emma. There'll be lots of friction there, can't wait.

BATMAN #678 - Zur En Arrh.

If Grant Morrison wasn't so crazy he might be dead by now; this could also be said about his version of Batman he's been writing for some two years now. Could anyone have predicted the direction he'd take the industry's most popular character? Seriously... THIS. SHIT. Is. CRAZY. In a good way. It's really a testament to mind-expanding drugs, the writing of Morrison; like Sgt. Peppers or Salvator Dali. The comics of this run will never be mentioned in the same breath as the Beatles or Dali, so I might as well here. This is bold, bold story-telling as only Morrison can deliver. This issue marks the 3rd installment of the arc entitled "R.I.P.". In it, the Batman we've come to know and love over these 60 years meets its demise, in a way.

I love love love the way it starts off. We've been given glimpses into what actually is inside Batman's "Black Casebook" for many issues now, but we've never actually seen it. In the opening pages of this issue, Tim Drake's reading out of the book. Along with pictures of aliens, monsters, and distant environments, Tim reads Bruce's writing:

"It would be fair to consider this a dream, but how can I?? After this last year, the boundaries between what's real and what's illusion have come to seem as threadbare as moldering shroud. How do I learn to think like these monsters I've chosen to fight?? And not let my own mind be mangled out of all recognition in the process? I don't want to know what goes on in the Joker's head. I HAVE to know. But when I imagine how it must feel to be him, I think of a snake with a broken back, flipping and tracing intricate, agonized arabesques in the dust. Does he KNOW what he's doing? Is he goading me to follow him deeper into his rabbit hole of derangement, hoping I'll break? Some of the experiences I've committed to these black casebooks are so utterly bizarre as to defy logic and sanity. Five years into the mission and it feels like a ghost train ride. I didn't expect costumed psychopaths, regular contact with hallucinogenic compounds or seemingly alien interventions. If it wasn't Robin's humor and forthrightness, I'd be... DEAD"

Keep up the great work Grant. Same goes for you Tony Daniel. You're one of the best new artists I've had the pleasure to read in a long time. Keep it up. Up next: The Club of Villains rips through Gotham! Criminals Beware of Zur-En-Arrh! Boy Wonder vs. Son of Batman! Enter the Joker! Batmite's Wisdom!

-Sonny

when i heard they're revamping the x-books again way back 2000, i was thinking of finally ditching my comicbook collecting and well, try to save more money instead. besides, my friend (the one whom i'm buying my comicbooks at) is saying farewell and will be closing his store in baguio for a change in career - in china.

i dunno what happened next but still, i am able to resist my conditioning and bought this together with the other x-books (xtreme xmen, etc).

first pages show cyclops rescuing some mutant kid with 3 pig faces somewhere in australia from a sentinel attack. okay, that's promising but then realizing how wicked morrison's mind is. i continued.

it seemed that the human gene is producing new species which we now call mutants. yes. mutants. mutants blooming out of nowhere like mushrooms. before, numbers were a handful till they realized how large their population is. let's say like around billions.

so how on earth did the xmen find out? thanks to the newest unit the xavier institute have. before it was cerebro, the tracking machine but now, it got a bigger bad ass sister called... wait a second, guess first.

okay, time's up. it's cerebra. magnifying telepathic (even latent ones) abilities 10x more.

a spike, jean says but somewhat the very excited professor xaview missed it, neither does the beast who was overwhelmed of their new stuff. (o yeah, did i mention that he looks more like feline now and has 4 fingers for a paw? long story.

that spike was none other than cassandra nova. later issues revealed that she was professor xavier's twin sister. get this, evil twin sister. mumudrai.

she was near ecuador lecturing some dentist (a trask relative) about evolution and how the evolved humans slaughter the lower species. very graphic is the presentation. you can actually see hands and feet flying.

the poor dentist didn't do well at the end coz' cassandra nova was just copying his cells to activate master mold and produce rouge sentinels under her command. finishing him off by piercing his heart. talk about heart break (get it?)

emma "the white queen" frost is introduced here too as a teacher in genosha. bitching actually but she loves her stuff so i guess, she's pretty much doing good. gone were the generation x days with the banshee.

anyway, cyclops and wolverine were asked to go check the spike which jean saw but got ambushed by the rouge sentinels and were captured. they met cassandra but lost the pig-faced boy in the process as the sentinel burned his body to bacon smell. it was cyclops who gave the killing shot though as he used his eyebeams to end the boy's agony (he did that? yes!).

they were able to capture cassandra though as wolverine slashed her throat.

before they were able to do so though, she ordered some sentinels to do something... and lifted off.

what did she order? oh nothing special, just to kill off billions of muties and burn genosha. the very island which magneto ruled over.

the xmen and the world were in tears that day. though not all coz' some racists did like the idea.

cassandra nova is brought to the institute for questioning. while beast and jean went off to genosha to look for survivors. and there they met emma frost holding a dead student. how come she survived while the rest including magneto was a victim of the sentinels? thanks to her secondary mutation, turning herself into a diamond, she was able to see the next day.

back to the mansion, cassandra is a very resourceful woman. she was able to stop the xmen and show them how she mean her business. even the professor wasn't able to stop her. she managed to get her bald head inside's cerebra and psychic tentacles came out of her mind.

emma bless her soul, was thinking of helping the x-men all along or was it because she left her louis vuitton bag at the lab? she went back to check on it and snapping cassandra's head in the way.

you also see prof xavier oulling the trigger and shooting the enemy. hardcore chuck.

so everybody's safe now.

later that night, jean and cyclops were discussing issues about their marriage. him being possessed by apocalypse which changed his persona and her not standing on his excuse. she feels they've been too apart from each other too long already.

then they saw professor xavier appearing on a tv announcing to the whole world what he really is.

"ladies and gentlemen, i am profesor charles xavier and i am a mutant".

]]> http://portsidebd.wordpress.com/?p=11 Mon, 14 Jul 2008 21:47:36 +0000 6ot6eek http://portsidebd.wordpress.com/?p=11 Last week, I'd been reading a lot of comic books, watching a lot of comic book movies, as well as Battlestar Galactica (2003+) and thinking way too much about work in my off-hours.  This is what my subconscious turned all of those influences into while I slept.

I was sitting in a heavily-windowed cafe in an unknown urban development on a planet that looks similar to Earth.  It wasn't Earth, and I knew this by the three moons shining dimly in the late evening sky outside the wall of windows next to my table.  The tea that I'd been sipping wasn't unacceptable, but left much to be desired – namely, tea leaves.  I remember thinking to myself that their food replicator needed tweaking, and was about to tell them so when I was joined by a few of my illustrious co-workers.  (They shall remain anonymous, for all of our sakes.)

"Three fizzies, one green and one lime-skinny," said Smarmy McTakecharge, rapping her knuckles loudly on the glass tabletop.  They all pulled chairs from surrounding tables and I slid my tea away from their elbow invasion.

"Whatcha drinkin'?  You got anything to eat?" queried M.T. Tummy.

"No," I responded firmly, finishing my tea.  I didn't remember inviting them and was mildly irked that they had found me.  Still, there were benefits.

"They're coming, you know," warned C5, looking over his glasses. And I did know.  I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"Who?"

"Our drinks."

Whatever I knew, it hadn't been that.

A young girl strolled to the table carrying a frosty tray of drinks.  The frost seemed to be emanating from her hand, as it and her forearm were also snowy white.  A light vapor rose from her arm as though it were made of dry ice.

"Three fizzies-?" she began, but was immediately interrupted by C5 saying, "I'm green," and Smarmy interjecting, "Lime-skinny." The waitress smiled ingratiatingly and doled out the beverages to their respective purchasers.

An awkward silence passed unnoticed due to the slurping and sipping surrounding me, so I felt inclined to say something.

"How is the training going?"

"Boring," complained C5, finishing his fizzy and snapping for the waitress to make it a double next time.

"Maybe for you, but my aim is getting unbeatable," Smarmy boasted, her chest swelling unflatteringly.

"I just wish you'd use your eyes instead of mine," grumbled M.T. as he cleaned his glasses.

"You don't choose your powers.  If I could, I would have picked something a little more self-contained."

I hated power-talks, and they knew it.  They just didn't care.

"How's scheduling?" C5 asked, trying to change the subject.

"Unbearably dull, as always.  But I've learned five new pen twirls," I said, wiggling my unarmed fingers.

Smarmy and M.T. looked nonplussed and fell into their back-and-forth all over again.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded and everyone stopped and listened to it.  It was a fell voice on the air and the dread pricked my neck and fingertips.
C5 stared at everything and nothing for a long moment before quietly saying, "They're near."

"Where?" asked Smarmy, standing up and knocking her chair over.

"I don't know," said C5, honestly, desperately.  He motioned for us to wait at the table and charged out of the café.  Never good at sign-language, myself and the others followed him stupidly. Outside, C5 was joined by three other men: two thirty-somethings, one lean and in a pilot's uniform, the other, brooding and in need of losing thirty pounds, and a balding old man with an eye-patch.

People were flooding out of shops and restaurants all along the strip, heading away from the noise of the siren.  They pushed past our conglomeration, some of them rather rudely.  As I picked myself up off the pavement the second time, I noticed a tall roughneck fighting his way toward us like a salmon swimming upstream.  It was another co-worker, I'tees Afarce.

"I'tees," she said, "Where're they going?"

"Towards the Square.  Hai Yeena said the siren's are coming from the moored Dunderbird.  Yellow-bellied weasel was running from it like all the other impotent scum," he told her, cracking his knuckles loudly.

I raised my hand, politely, "Um, impotent scum, here."

"You're not running, though, are you?" said Afarce kindly.

If I knew where to go, I'd be there, I thought to myself.

M.T. nudged me and winked.

 "I heard that."

Mind-readers, I thought before I could stop myself, proof that I need to start hanging out with more impotent scum.

M.T. shrugged and moved away from me.

"Go on, you lot," said Eye-Patch to the Super Delegates.  "Make sure everything's alright at the Square. We'll head to the Dunderbird and see if we can't get them to stand-down."

"Us lot, eh?" growled I'tees.  "I think you'd better check the square, old man.  I've got the hankerin' to polish off some chrome domes."
Suddenly, I felt like I was in a Nick Fury comic book, dot gain, and all.  I blinked, and my vision went back to normal.

"Those 'Chrome Domes' would tear you limb from frakkin' limb, I'tees, but only after they pump you full of enough munitions to level the gods damned mountains!" shouted Eye-Patch, emoting more with one loony eyeball than I could ever attempt with two sane ones.

"What if the siren's nothing but a ploy to get us away from the Square and to the ship?" suggested M.T. sagely.  "And they're really going to the Square."

Eye-Patch and I'tees looked at him sideways.

“He is a time-teller,” Smarmy pointed-out.

“I thought you were a mind-reader,” I said.

“I’m an all-around head-case,” M.T. grinned stupidly.

"Mrph … hmm … gods damned … motherfrakkers …" mumbled Eye-Patch almost inaudibly.  Then he said, "To the Square, then."

"C'mon, Tummy.  It's Practical Application time."

M.T. made a show of taking off his glasses and pocketing them carefully.

"Just don't pull my hair, alright?"

The Super Delegates and the other four bounded for the Square.  Unsure of what else to do, I followed them…

A loud voice sounded above our heads.

"Where are those 'Chrome Domes'?!  Will our heroes find them in time to save humanity from utter diabolical destruction?!"

Stopping, I looked up at the sky in bewilderment as the voice rattled on about the impending doom and our unlikely survival in a theatrical baritone.

C5 tapped me on the shoulder, shook his head and motioned for me to follow.
"Ignore him.  He's just show-off."

"Quite right," said the voice.  "I chime in when the show's about to go off!"  He chuckled a little too believably at his poor pun.

C5 made a face and we ran to catch-up with the others.

About half-way to the Square, an all-consuming thought occurred to me.  Slowing down, I asked aloud, “Why the frak am I running toward the bad guys?!”

C5 shrugged and ran on ahead.  I contemplated my options briefly.

Die at the ship.  Die at the Square.  Die in the middle of strip.

Being inherently ill-equipped at anything super-human, I decided my best option was to get near the super-humans and hope they would save me from certain death.  If they didn’t, at least I’d die with people I knew.

The Square was engulfed in a cloud of sooty black smoke by the time I arrived.  I could here the strangely surreal sound of space-age weapons fire.  I quickly found Smarmy McTakecharge, who had a fistful of M.T Tummy’s hair and orange lasers were firing out of his eyes and into the cloud.  She was hooping and hollering like a crazed cowboy while he was telling her where to aim.

“They’re certainly bigger than I remember,” M.T. shouted to no one in particular.

“Who?!” I called, not seeing anyone.

“Them!”

Suddenly, dozens of thirty-foot tall mechanized warriors known as Centurions descended from the sky, their singular red-eyes scanning left to right as their hands transformed into multi-barreled plasma cannons.

“C’mon, Figurski,” the overweight thirty-something shouted in my direction, pointing at a large half-round of metal alloy, big enough to cover a small car.  “Get under here.”

I looked around, trying to find who he was talking to.

“What are you now? Fat and deaf?!”  he shouted.

I would have laughed if I hadn’t just realized he was talking to me.

“You’re one to talk.  My name is not Figurski,” I shouted back, running towards him.

“What’s more important?  Me knowing your name, or not dying?”

I saw his point and tucked under the metal.  Fat 30-Something jogged to where Slim 30-Something, Eye-Patch and C5 were huddled.  Slim separated from the group and shouted something at the nearest Centurion warrior, but I couldn’t hear what it was.  The enormous robot stopped, cocked its chrome-plated head to one side and focused it’s red-eye on the man.  Without further hesitation it, fired at blew Slim into a million itty-bitty silica pieces.  His compatriots scattered like cockroaches in electric light.

“Holy …!” I cowered lower.  A phone rang behind me.  Confused, I turned around.  Out of the back of this make-shift shelter, opened a large white room.

“It’s for you,” said a woman dressed all in white with perfectly coiffed blonde hair, holding out a wireless-phone. Behind me, I could still hear Smarmy laughing maniacally, but somehow, much farther away.  Cautiously, I took the phone.

“Hello?”

“Your payment is seventeen days overdue.  Your telephone service will be disconnected … now.”

Click!

Since it launched, I have been fairly critical of Young X-Men. The writing has been hit or miss, the art has been either sloppy or inconsistent (or both), and the overall plot has felt somewhat disjointed. While all of those criticisms can be applied to Young X-Men #4 (to some degree), I found myself enjoying the book much more than those that came before it.

To be honest, not a whole lot happens in this issue. Ink gets some new tattoos (resulting in more powers) and Cyclops preps the team for an assault on the New Brotherhood.  As the attack begins, Cyclops is ambushed by the mysterious character that's been stalking him since last issue. While the execution of the story isn't particularly compelling, the cliffhanger left me wanting more. Maybe my expectations have been lowered a bit thanks to three disappointing issues in a row, but this one worked well enough.

Marc Guggenheim's writing continues to be hit or miss for me, but his story is finally coming together. The plot twist in this issue gives the story some much needed focus and I'm confident that the conclusion of this arc will provide a decent pay off. Also, the dialogue here is much improved over previous issues, though it still has faults. Some of it is a bit melodramatic at times and the occasional attempts at humor fall flat or come across as annoying. The most surprising thing about the issue, other than the plot twist of course, is how well written the mysterious figure is. Guggenheim writes him in an effectively cryptic and threatening manner that brings a lot to the story.

While I am personally not a fan of the art style featured in this book, the visuals are significantly better than last issue. The characters look much more consistent, there is more detail in everything, the colors are well done, and the action has a nice direction to it. Worth mentioning also is a very nice looking splash page that kicks off the attack on the Hellfire Club.

Young X-Men got off to a rough start, but if the conclusion of the first arc in the next issue pays off as it should, this series could finally begin to live up to its potential. (Grade: C)

- Kyle Posluszny

Hi havia una estàtua humana que no sé ben bé què  feia i molta gent atrinxerada al voltant seu. Va ser massa tard quan em vaig adonar que el que feia, ben bé, era fer de mim. Aleshores portava 389 dies sense cap crisis.

Alguna cosa va començar a  bullir dins meu i estava a punt d'aflorar el monstre verd i desmesurat que porto a dins. La massa ( la mateixa que apareix quan surt l'Anna Obregón  per la tele, sense voler).

Seguidament, aplico el protocol de crisis. Aparto de mi el meu nòvio pel seu bé. Li dic que l'estimo i em li dic adéu amb un to molt americà. Comprovo amb els últims esforços de consciència que porto, com a mínim, calces i sostenidors prou elàstics per contenir el rubor de la transformació que el meu cos està a punt de sofrir. Les varius se m'inflen com amb bufador. Tota jo sóc un capil·lar sanguini que batega en verd radioactiu. Els coloms paren de volar i les orenetes es caguen a sobre.

La gent que s'acumulava al voltant de l'actor repel·lent, es desplaça i s'amuntega, a una distància prudencial, prop meu. A aquell mim li esperava una fi horrible i l'incaut no parava de fer monades. Ara es porta la mà a la boca amb un gest de sorpresa. Ara fa veure que fuig de mi davallant unes escales fictícies. Ara fa veure que és un arbre. Ara una tassa. Ara una tetera. Una forquilla. Un cullerot.

És en aquell precís moment, quan tot està a punt d'esclatar, que dues gitanes apareixen del no res i  m'escombren la cara amb una branqueta de romaní. Quan torno a mi, me n'adono que la munió s'ha dissolt en intuir-les i que el meu nòvio em saluda amb cara de circumstàncies darrera la seguretat dels vidres d'un aparador. El mim és al seu costat, palpant-los com si no hi fossin. I la gitana ja m'ha agafat la mà.

-         No te voy a cobrar nada bonita, mira que cara tan bonita tienes tu -diu mentre va fent històries rares amb el romaní i la meva cartera-

-         No quiero-no quiero, no tengo nada... yo... gracias... No...er...déje éste romero...no, no... (és imparable)

-         Ai que presiosidad que niña, tienes alguien que te quiere mucho y tu madre te quiere mucho y...has sufrido mucho verdad? Pues vas a sufrir más porqué vas a tener tres hijos muy fuertes con aquel payo de detrás del cristal.

Detras del cristal sólo quedava el mimo. I els músculs se'm van quintuplicar en volum i el meu cos va prendre les formes exquisides dels cossos preparats per la violència. D'un cop de cap nuclear vaig estabornir la gitana.  Proferint crits de ràbia i desesperació animals, vaig abandonar l'escena i vaig fugir camps a través recorrent, es veu, la península a una velocitat supersònica. Avui m'he despertat completament atordida a casa meva. No subestimeu mai la força combinatòria de l'ovulació,l'estrès i la temperatura. Aprofiteu les vacances per relaxar-vos. Molt.

The monster chard is too bizarre to resist.

And if I want to stick with the garden theme at least marginally I damn well better post about the garden, right?

Upon my return from Mexico, I found some freaky things happening in the garden. The upstairs garden was almost completely dead and the downstairs garden had really run amok.

Mostly dead things upstairs. The poor little flowers in tiny pots didn't stand a chance without water.

The miraculous thing is that the tomatoes upstairs actually were doing really well and I even had a few baby tomatoes! We'll see if the vulnerable young things survive my month away in Boston....

So that's upstairs. Downstairs was another story! The peas were half dead, but the plants that were toughing it out had an abundance of ripe delicious peas that I had the pleasure of eating. Yum!

The onions were also still surviving without any signs of distress.

We lost a few flowers but a few were hanging on. (god bless native plants, they are true survivors.)

The craziest things were the swiss chard and cilantro, both of which had grown freakishly tall. I think that the heat wave that hit the Bay caused them to bolt. The cilantro was clearly flowering, on its way to seed. One of the chard plants seemed to be doing the same thing:

See how it got so tall that now it's tipping over? And see the little wispy things on the end? They seem to be an attempt at flowering, I think.

But you ain't seen nothing yet. The other chard, which actually had overwintered from last fall, went really crazy! It grew like 10 feet or something, collapsed at some point, continued growing along a stool and up the wall and is sending out little tiny chard leaves.  Here's a pic, looking down long the length of the main stalk.

WHAAAAA?

Plants are crazy. Especially when they turn into scary mutants.

See what happens if you leave your garden alone for a month?

Listen, I'm a gym goer. I used to attend Planet Fitness, until I out-grew their paper weights and got tired of not being able to wear bandannas to their diarrhea-soft, non-cussing, non-grunting, over-crowded, understaffed, tiny, butt stench establishment. I literally went to the one Planet Assness that was all over the news--you know, where that stocky Italian dude, here in New York, was escorted out by the cops for grunting. Yes, they kicked him out, because he grunted. Waaaah, waaaah, waaaaah, don't grunt. It scares the bony little dickheads, and the fat, miserable, self-conscious whiners away. Jesus Christ, how soft is modern day America going to get? Will people please get some guts?

Anyway, I told you that to tell you this: I got rid of my Planet Softness membership and switched to the over-priced Golds Gym. There is more equipment, you can wear whatever the piss you want, you can curse, and you can (GASP!) grunt if you're trying to throw some heavy "iron" up. But this leads to a new breed of pieces of shit: Mutants

Yes, Golds Gym breeds performance-enhancing, needle in the butt, drug-abusing mutants. And these aren't friendly mutants who mind their own business. These are lopsided, jackass, moron, idiot, fool mutants who feel the need to purposely work out directly across from, or next to, the skinniest guy in the free weights/pully area. They don't only work out as close as possible to these poor, self-conscious, skinny bastards, but they also feel the need to hiss and scream.

I don't mind a little grunting, or a heavy breath when you're trying to get weights up, but screeching and hissing? That is NOT! FUCKING! GRUNTING! They scream loud enough to shake the walls, for Elvis' sake. They hiss like 1,000 vipers getting their collective snake penis ripped out with a scalding hot pair of tweezers.

The idiot-ass mutant grunts go something like this: RAAAH! PAAAAH! BOOOOOUSCHE! BLAAAAAGH! RAAAAAAAAH! OOOOOOOOOF! BOOOOOOOf BAAAAACH!

While the shit-throwing hisses go something like this: WSSSSSSSSSSSSSST! SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHPSSSSSSSSSSWSHHHHHHHHH! WSSSSSSHHHWSSSSSSSSSST!

Do these steroid-abusing, HGH-loving mutants not realize how pitifully stupid they look and sound? Jesus, what a bunch of puddles of turkey piss.

And a word of warning to those who might consider signing up for Golds Gym: The Mutants gather on Sunday mornings.

Between the Mutants, cocky, annoying personal trainers, always-missing attachments for the pulley machines and the price of $54 a month, I do not recommend this piece of shit gym to anyone. Good riddance.

Forever my fiance
She lives in my lap
Don't need no chain
She lives in my lap

~Andre 3000, She Lives In My Lap~

Authorities are dropping the investigation of the disappearnace of Madeleine McCann, the little girl who disappeared in Portugal over a year ago. No evidence, they say. I think they still have their eyes on the parents and they're waiting on them to slip up.  ~CNN

Here are seven people who have real life "mutant powers." Check it out. ~Cracked~

How to be Christian and believe in evolution. Personally, I've never had a problem acknowledging a higher power and the logic/rationality of science. ~Salon~

Hip hop timeline 2004-2007. You'll be surprised at how ancient some of the songs/movies seem from just 4 years ago.  You can also go back and look through all the timelines  from this  link. ~All Hip Hop~

]]> http://apocalyptickiwi.wordpress.com/?p=504 Mon, 30 Jun 2008 06:19:00 +0000 twitterpaters http://apocalyptickiwi.wordpress.com/?p=504 by twit

From the Guardian on June 29, 2008:

The Dow website says: 'As a general rule, we suggest damaged produce (however this is caused) should not be consumed.'

This is an example photo of a deformed tomato plant, via the Guardian:

Example of unhealthy tomato leaves curling inwards, affected by contaminated manure. Photograph: Katherine Rose

Dow AgroSciences would prefer that we avoid eating deformed food, especially if their pesticide got into the manure used to fertilize the garden...

The Royal Horticultural Society (RHS) has been inundated with calls from concerned gardeners who have seen potatoes, beans, peas, carrots and salad vegetables wither or become grossly deformed.

The society admitted that it had no idea of the extent of the problem, but said it appeared 'significant'.

The affected gardens and allotments have been contaminated by manure originating from farms where the hormone-based herbicide aminopyralid has been sprayed on fields.

... Guy Barter, the RHS head of horticultural advisory services, said they were receiving more than 20 calls a week. 'Our advice is not to eat the vegetables because no one seems to have any idea whether it is safe to eat them and we can't give any assurances,' he said.

'It is happening all over the country. A lot of cases we are seeing is where people have got manure from stables and the stable have bought their hay from a merchant, and the merchant might have bought hay from many farmers, possibly from different parts of the country. So they have no idea where the hay came from. So finding someone to blame is quite difficult.'

Maybe hold off on milk and meat for awhile, too?

Shirley Murray, 53, a retired management consultant with an allotment near Bushy Park in Hampton, south-west London, said several of her allotment neighbours had used the same manure bought from a stables and all were affected.

'I am absolutely incensed at what has happened and find it scandalous that a weedkiller sprayed more than one year ago, that has passed through an animal's gut, was kicked around on a stable floor, stored in a muck heap in a field, then on an allotment site and was finally dug into or mulched on to beds last winter is still killing "sensitive" crops and will continue to do so for the next year,' she said.

[emphasis added]

Although, it doesn't seem clear that the animals producing the manure are themselves contaminated by the herbicide. We may learn more when the next batch of farm animal offspring are born, but it does seem more likely that the herbicide got into the 'muck heaps' than into the animals themselves.

Although, it takes a wretched amount of stupidity to get this far along with the contamination of gardens, so the twit's not holding her breath...

update: From the Royal Horticultural Society, another photo of a deformed tomato plant and a warning about contaminated manure, with emphasis added to highlight the point about the apparent origin of contamination:

Farmyard manure contaminated with weedkiller residue is causing abnormal growth of vegetable crops throughout the country.

It is believed that the manure has been inadvertently contaminated with aminopyralid. This selective, hormone-type herbicide is used on pastures to control weeds. Manure from animals fed on treated pastures contains chemical residues sufficient to damage susceptible crops.

Gardeners buying this manure to apply to vegetable crops and gardens are coming across abnormal growth particularly on tomatoes, potatoes and legumes, although ornamental plants such as delphinium, phlox and roses may also be susceptible.

Symptoms of damage include distorted foliage, with cupping of leaves and fern-like growth. There are no remedies once damage has occurred and there is no assurance that affected produce will be safe to consume.

and this seems nice of them to say:

However, as this weed killer can be grazed by livestock soon after application there is no reason to believe that children, pets, gardeners or wildlife are at risk.

even if it doesn't make much sense in the context of the origin of contamination potentially being blamed on the hay consumed by farm animals. It is a chemical that is destroying gardens across Britain, so the idea that there is "no reason" to be concerned about the possibility of more widespread contamination seems a bit optimistic at this point.

The Presence looked down at the planet below through the satellite's cameras, watching the patterns in the clouds before returning to work and sending it's consciousness down the uplink towards the networks of the North American Zone. The Grid was busy at this time of day, a blizzard of blue lights streaking across the inky blackness, bouncing from one relay to the next until they reached their destination. Individual communication packets containing audio, video and computer data making up the cybernetic nervous system of the ECM.

Concentrating lightly, the Presence zeroed in a stream of messages passing back and forth between two users. A quick invasion into the user profiles revealed their identities as a pair of college students complaining about the policies of the government. The Presence smiled it reported the conversation to the local UniCop monitoring station. It was the fourth time the male user had had one of his conversations reported. Although the Unity had taken no action against him, they had arrested and imprisoned the other party each time on the Presence's recommendation. The Presence idly wondered at one point the male user's friends would begin to suspect, incorrectly, that he was an informer.

As the Presence hopped from system to system, it passed through the central dispatch computer for one of the local Sector PD's. In a split second, it scanned the current service records of a squad of Sector Cops that had been involved in a disastrous UniCop snatch and grab operation a month earlier. Although nothing suspicious turned up, it decided that a round of random “interrogations” would do wonders for local UniCop morale.

A few seconds after entering the ECM grid, it had reached its target location. Sector 7, known before the Unification War as Boston. A group of so called “freedom fighters” was suspected to be operating in the area and local law enforcement had been characteristically lax in investigating the area. The only intelligence it had on the group was that it referred to itself as “Kilo Cell” and was part of the terrorist organisation BetaForce. The group had been a thorn in the Unity's side for a number of years, most recently it was suspected that they were responsible for the theft of weapons and equipment from a Unity supply depot. They had become bold with the repeated successes, perhaps they had also become sloppy.

It gathered its thoughts and focused its energy in preparation for what it needed to do. The Presence opened itself up, flowing across the local network and invading the communication relays throughout the sector. Within minutes it had access to every communications signal sent within and through the sector. It scanned every message, and packet of computer data, looking for keywords and suspicious phrases. From inside the system it did not need to stop to accommodate the physical needs of a human body, it could remain in position for weeks at a time if necessary. Thankfully it did not come to that.

After an hour it detected a sloppily encrypted communique which when decoded revealed itself to be a message between two members of the target group. From there it infiltrated their computers and gained access to their messaging programs. They had been smart enough to keep no suspect addresses in their address books and had deleted all messages once read. However, they hadn't erased the internal transceiver logs of their cell phones. When all the data was cross-referenced with information it gained from other sources, the Presence identified all the members and had identified their current locations. It dutifully noted the UniCops and an assault team was dispatched. Moving on to its next assignment, it was unaware that it had triggered a series of alarms which alerted the terrorists to its presence.

14:58 July 7th, 2049
Echo Cell Bunker, 200m below Sector 23

Tommy stretched as he entered the common room, scratching the back of his head. Toby was sitting at a desk on the far side of the room, his brow furrowed in concentration. Toby had been surprised when Talbot had handed him a fat workbook two weeks ago. “Just because you're a wanted terrorist,” Talbot had told him, “it's no reason to skip on your education.” He'd complained bitterly of course but had eventually relented. Jared was sitting on the couch, munching on a bowl of cornflakes while watching TV. Sarah, Talbot and Kai were nowhere to be seen.

After grabbing coke from the fridge, he plopped down on the sofa next to Jared.

“Hey sleepy,” Jared said in greeting, “you're just in time for the next episode of Jake Danger.” Tommy grunted in response.

“Meh, the comic's are better,” piped in Toby.

“Oh come on, the comic's are nothing more than a cash-in like the computer games,” retorted Jared, “name one thing the comics have over the show.”

“The comic's aren't laced with subliminal messages,” said Tommy.

Jared's mouth opened as he tried to formulate a response but he gave up as the opening credits started. He turned back to the screen, pointedly ignoring the sniggers from the two boys.

----

Four green bubbles of energy floated above the console in the comm centre, contained inside each one was fluttering spark of white energy. Kai sat at the comm board with a dog eared and hand written journal on his lap, his face a mask of focused concentration as he muttered “kiryokuousei zaichuu no kouriki mewomukeru to houshutsu” repeatedly under his breath. When he mispronounced the final word in the phrase, the bubbles suddenly popped and the energy dissipated.

“Dammit dad, why Japanese, why couldn't you have written your notes in a normal language like English?” Kai complained as he looked down at the book and tried to decode his father's handwriting. He was about to try again when the comm-board started beeping alerting him to an incoming message.

“Bravo Foxtrot Echo, this is November Six Three Six incoming.”

“Er roger November Six Three Six, this is Bravo Foxtrot Echo receiving. Go ahead,” Kai responded into the headset.

“November Six Three Six on priority mission from Central Command Authority. Request bunker access and security lockdown. Authorisation code transmitting.”

As Kai checked the authorisation code against the most recent security, he comm'd Talbot. The request from November 636 was unusual and the invocation of Central Command Authority meant that something major was going down and that normally meant trouble.

“Authorisation code verified November Six Three Six, clear for access. Come on in, door's open and the welcome mat's out.”

----

By the time the transport craft had arrived in the hanger, Talbot was already waiting for them. As its doors opened and the occupants stepped out, Talbot breathed in sharply. “Christ, not him,” he thought to himself as he eyed the leader of the group. The leader was an African-American male, mid 30's and around 2 meters in height. He had blue eyes and short cropped black hair and he was wearing green combat trousers, black boots and a light blue khaki shirt. The man was armed with a pistol in a holster strapped to his thigh. Behind him stood two men in dark grey combat armour carrying assault rifles. Apart from their different faces, there were identical in hair and posture.

Talbot folded his arms as they approached, there was a tense moment when the leader held out his hand which Talbot refused to shake. “Grabowski,” he began, “knowing you, this isn't a social visit.”

“I wish I was here under better circumstances, “Grabowski said grimly, although his eyes twinkled with amusement, “but I'm afraid we have a serious situation.”

“This better be good.”

“Is your team assembled?”

“They're in the briefing room, this way.”

----

“So Kai,” Sarah said as he entered the briefing room, “what's going on?”

“Beat's me. Some big shot from Central's paying us a visit.” Kai sat down and Jared passed him a bowl of peanuts.

“Lucky us, the brass are gracing us with their presence,” Jared said sarcastically prompting laughter from the rest of the team. Toby's and Tommy's laughter was cut short when both boys grimaced in pain and began to rub the sides of their heads. Before anyone could say anything, the door opened and Talbot walked in leading the three men of November 636. When Tommy saw Grabowski, his eyes narrowed and his face hardened with his shoulders tensed. Grabowski merely smiled in return.

After being introduced, Grabowski began to address the team. “Over the last couple of months, a number of BetaForce operations and personnel have been compromised by a security leak. Myself and the rest of my team have been tasked with tracking down this leak and plugging it.” As he spoke, the two armed guards that had come with him surreptitiously disengaged the safety's on their weapons. “We suspected that our communication encryptions had been broken or that someone was invading our computer systems so we set up a sting. We lulled the culprit into thinking that one of our cells, Kilo Cell, had been a little slack in the information security department.” The members of Echo Cell looked at each other slightly confused, each wondering just where this was going. Grabowski began to walk around the table as he continued, the two armed guards following discreetly behind. No one seemed to notice when they stopped behind Tommy. “When the hacker paid a visit we hoped to track him or her back to his terminal. Imagine our surprise when the tech's told us that it wasn't possible to trace the hacker as there didn't seem to by any connection to an outside terminal during the invasion. Instead what we found was a curious electronic signature. One which is unique to one Thomas Preston.” As soon as Tommy's name was mentioned, and before anyone could react, one of the guards slammed Tommy's head on to the desk and started to cuff his hands behind his back. The other guard pointed his rifle at the back of the boy's head.

As the boy came round the bend, the two men sitting on the boulder looked up. The boy was small, probably no more than seven years old, and dressed in dark grey shorts and a sleeveless black vest. A black peaked cap was also worn in a futile attempt to keep the burning north African sun off his neck which, like his arms, was already red raw with sunburn. Even through the heat-haze they could see the sweat pouring off him as he staggered forward trying to carry the oversized pack on his back.

Both men were dressed in light coloured, loose fitting clothing unlike the cadets they oversaw. They each carried a combat knife and sidearm as well as a police-style baton. The taller man looked at his watch. “He's five minutes behind,” he said to his shorter companion in an English accent.

“We'll have to do something about that.” His companion stated in a French accent as he sharpened his knife.

The boy glanced nervously at the two instructors without lifting his head as he trudged past them. He knew he was in trouble, the rest of the squad had left him behind and he'd lost sight of them a half a kilometre back. He had got about 5 meters beyond them when the Englishmen ordered him to halt.

“What's you're name cadet?”

“Er, Two-seventeen gamma. Sir.” He answered nervously, standing to attention despite the crushing ache in his back caused by the pack.

“217 Gamma, do you have any explanation as to why you have yet again fallen behind?” The Frenchman questioned as he came up behind the boy. The boy knew better than to answer such a question.

“Perhaps he's just lazy,” the Englishman said conversationally, “look at that fat. He could do with loosing a few kilos.” He continued prodding the boy's chest which was conspicuously lacking anything even close to puppy fat. “Note that down, meal privileges revoked for the day.” The boy silently groaned when he heard that, he hadn't eaten for nearly two days now.

“There's still another 5 klicks left on the run, do you think that you are going to make it if you continue in this fashion? ... Well, answer boy.” The Frenchmen barked at him.

“N-no sir.”

“If we let him continue, he'll probably end up dead ... He wouldn't be our problem any more.” The Englishman said as he gulped down some water from a canteen.

“True,” the Frenchman began as he reached for the water, “it would bring the squads overall performance rating up.” He looked at the boy as if appraising a pack animal with a broken leg. “However you heard the techs. This boy is special and we should be careful that we don't overwork him.” The Frenchman said, putting a mocking emphasis on the word special.

“I guess we can't have him dying from exhaustion or heat-stroke then.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “We should take him back to base in the Jeep,” he said nodding at the vehicle parked behind the rocks.

“I could do with a beer,” the Frenchman agreed, “the boy looks like he could do with a drink.”

The Englishman held out the canteen to the boy, “Drop that pack and take a drink before you drop yourself.”

The boy paused, uncertain how to proceed. The Unity instructors were not known for any sort of compassion or kindness and he was sure that this was some sort of trick. However, disobeying an order always resulted in harsh punishment. He unbuckled the backpack and carefully reached out for the canteen. As his fingers neared it, the Englishman reached forwards and grabbed his wrist. “A thought occurs,” be began, “if we take you back to camp now, that would just be rewarding you for failing to complete the run.”

“He should be punished first.” The Frenchman agreed and the young could sense the the man's anticipation in his voice.

The Englishman pushed him roughly down onto the dirt. “Hold him down will you.” He said as he pulled out his knife. The Frenchman grabbed his arms and forced back down on the ground. He pushed down with all his weight on the boys arms, immobilising them. The Englishmen knelt on the boy's legs and between the two of them, he couldn't move. “Now you're file says that you have some limited regeneration,” he said holding the knife in front of the boy's eyes, the sun glinting of the metal blade. “Even so, I can guarantee that this will hurt and it will teach you to not fall behind in the future.”

He brought the knife to just below the boy's left eye and began to slowly cut across the face, crossing the bridge of the nose. White hot pain flooded his senses as the blade cut deep into the skin and flesh. His screams echoed across the vacant desert.

----

09:15 July 7th, 2049
Echo Cell Comm Centre, 200m Below Sector 23

Tommy woke with a start as someone shook his shoulder, almost falling off his chair. Kai stood beside him crunching on an apple with a concerned look on his face.

“Tommy man, you all right? You were nearly screaming in your sleep.”

“It was nothing,” Tommy muttered, “just a bad dream.” The nightmare was fresh enough in his mind that he could still feel the desert heat, the dirt under his back and the pain from that day nine years ago. His hand went to his face, fingers tracing across the scar that stretched across his face. Despite his regeneration, the wound had never properly healed and was still visible all these years later.

Kai pulled a chair over and sat next to him. “Seriously, you look exhausted. You've been on comm watch for over 12 hours, you need to take a break.”

“I would but no one else knows how to monitor the board properly.” Tommy shifted in his seat, rubbing his neck and yawning.

“We'll manage, do I have to pull rank on you.”

Tommy looked at Kai's stern look. For a few seconds neither of them said anything then Kai's frown crumbled and Tommy laughed and pushed his chair back from the console. “Ok, I get the message. Anyway, technically we don't have ranks but I do have seniority on you.”

“It'll be a cold day in hell,” Kai called out as Tommy left the comm centre, “when I let some punk ass hacker outrank me.” Tommy's tired laughter could be heard echoing in the corridor outside. He turned back to the comm console and eyed the Great Wall of Pepsi along the top of the monitors. “There's enough caffeine and sugar here to fuel the Tank for a week, where does he put it all.” Carefully he placed the dozen or so cans in the recycling bin at the back of the room.

----

As Toby sat on his bed, fastening the laces on his shoes, Tommy walked in and flopped onto his bed on the other side of the room.

“Jeez,” Toby began yawning, “you been up all night?”

Tommy just yawned in response. He pulled off his top and kicked of his shoes and began to climb into bed. The younger boy got up and headed to the door, summoned by the smell of bacon and eggs wafting in from the common room outside. He turned and looked back at Tommy.

“Hey, I've been meaning to ask. Where'd you get that tattoo on your shoulder?”

Tommy looked up and pulled the sleeve of his t-shirt back down covering it. “Don't remember,” he rolled over, his back to Toby and pulled the blanket around him. “Do me a favour will you? Turn off the lights on the way out.” Toby recognised a “drop the subject” when he heard it and left Tommy alone in the room. Tommy sighed and closed his eyes, dropping into a restless sleep.

“GET AWAY FROM MY LITTLE SISTER!”

Toby leapt forward and grabbed Travis around the waist and right shoulder. He lifted the shocked UniCop as if he was made of nothing more than paper. With a scream of rage Toby threw Travis out of the back of the van and over the heads of Sarah and Tommy. Travis sailed through the air for nearly 12 meters before smashing into a concrete pillar and landing on the roof of a nearby skycar. The roof of the car buckled shattering the windscreen and triggering its alarm.

Tommy had to duck as Toby bounded out of the van almost like an animal, landing on all fours. He watched the boy race after the UniCop dumbfounded. When they had sparred before, Toby had not moved as fast as that, nor had he seemed that strong. Sarah climbed into the back of the van, pulling out a first aid kit.

“Three,” she called out to Tommy, “go after the kid and stop him from doing anything stupid. I'll take care of the family.” He nodded and turned to follow Toby.

With a grunt, Travis pulled the combat knife from his shoulder and recognised it as the one he had lost earlier that day. At least now he knew where it had gone. He looked up and saw the crazed young mutant charging towards him, pure rage visible in his eyes. Travis quickly sprang to his feet and into a combat crouch, knife held out before him. As Toby got in close he lashed out to strike Travis's head. The UniCop ducked under the blow, barely, and grabbed Toby's arm. Using the mutants own momentum he tossed him over his shoulder sending him sprawling to the floor. Travis span round and slashed at the boy with the knife as he got up. The knife sliced across Toby's chest leaving a ragged cut in his sweatshirt. A spurt of blood, cast off from the knife, splashed across the ground and the boy clutched his chest.

A spray of gun fire narrowly missed Kai as he dived across the gap between two skycars to join Talbot. The remaining UniCop in the rear escort was proving to be a tough opponent. “We need to end to this,” Talbot spoke as he peeked over the top of the skycar using a snapped off wing mirror, “cover me.” Slapping a fresh magazine into his rifle, he passed the weapon to Kai. “This should do the trick,” he muttered as he pulled a grenade from a strap. A sharp pain suddenly struck his head and he inhaled sharply between his teeth.

“What's wrong?” Kai asked worriedly.

“Nothing,” he answered rubbing his temple, “just a headache.”

It was no ordinary pain but an empathic flash. Talbot usually kept his telepathic and empathic abilities in a dormant state. Most people constantly broadcast their surface thoughts and unless he focused his control, when his abilities were active it was akin to having a thousand rock concerts taking place simultaneously in his head. However, occasionally a powerful empathic flash would break through his mental defences. That was what was happening now. He could sense a powerful, almost feral rage. Like an enraged animal. Talbot looked round the side of the skycar just in time to see a UniCop slash at Toby with a combat knife.

As Travis prepared to slash the boy again, Toby growled dropped into a one handed hand stand. His left leg lashing out and striking the combat knife sending it spinning and clattering to the ground. Travis drew his sidearm only to have kicked out of his hands by Toby's right foot as the boy flipped upright. Toby now had his back to Travis but if the UniCop thought that gave him an advantage he was mistaken. The boy thrust his right elbow into Travis's armoured chest and then span round to deliver a vicious follow up punch with his left fist to the same location. The armoured plate buckled and cracked under the force of the blow. Travis coughed and blood splattered Toby's face.

“Shit,” Talbot thought as he watched the fight across the garage, “he's gonna kill him.” He signalled Kai, and leapt out from behind the skycar. Kai opened up with the assault rifle, spraying the cab of the escort. The UniCop inside ducked down as the bullets riddled the windscreen. Talbot charged towards the vehicle, readying the grenade. At the last second he pulled the pin and tossed it through the side window throwing himself to the floor in preparation for the blast. The grenade bounced of the helmet of the UniCop before landing between his feet. He had just enough time to utter a resigned curse before it detonated.

In the back of the prisoner transport Sarah had begun to treat the gunshot wound. The mother was clutching the daughter, as if afraid to let go. “Who ... What...” stammered the father.

“Hold still Mr Smith, I need to bandage this before you loose to much blood.” Sarah said as she searched for the exit wound. “And before you ask, you're safe with us. We're here to get you to safety.”

“Was that...”

“Your son? Yes.”

The mother looked up hopefully. “Toby? but they told us he was dead.”

“Don't worry, he's very much alive and my team mate is taking care of him.” Sarah said as she found the exit wound and began to bandage. “I hope,” she added silently under her breath.”

Travis staggered back, winded by the blow to his chest with his hands held out in surrender. The boy grabbed hold of his head and screamed in a guttural voice, “This is for shooting me,” into his face as he head butted him. The UniCop's nose crumpled in a spray of blood and he collapsed to his knees. “This is for trying to stab me in the alley.” He smashed his fists into Travis's face sending him to the floor. “This is for hurting my family.” A savage kick to the groin caused Travis to groan meekly, pleading for mercy. Toby sat on his chest, repeatedly punching him in the face. “And this is for my sister.” He clenched both his fists together above his head and prepared to smash them down on Travis's face. The semi concious UniCop lay beneath him unable to resist.

Tommy charged into Toby, body tackling him off the UniCop. The two boys slid across the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs. Toby landed face down next to the discarded combat knife. As he rose to a crouch, his back to Tommy, he grasped the knife. Before Tommy could call out, Toby span round and leapt through the air. He landed on Tommy, forcing the older boy to the floor as he sat on his chest, the combat knife to Tommy's throat. Tommy looked at Toby's face, he almost couldn't recognise the boy. Toby was snarling through gritted teeth that almost had fangs and Tommy was sure that his eyes used to be blue, not orange. His entire body seemed to have altered as well, he felt heavier and definitely looked more muscular. After a few seconds, Toby's eyes seemed to refocus and see for the first time what he was doing. He glanced at the knife he was holding and his eyes widened in shock. Dropping the knife, he scrambled off Tommy's chest and fell back against a concrete pillar. Toby looked at his hands which were covered with blood and down at his blood soaked sweatshirt. Tommy looked at him carefully and was relieved to see that he seemed to be back to the blue-eyed, freckle faced kid he had met in the briefing room.

“Jeez, I'm sorry, I ... I ... God what was I doing?” Toby struggled to apologise as Tommy got up and walked over. Tommy held out his hand to Toby.

“Well, er, you kinda lost it.” Tommy answered as he helped him up. Toby glanced warily over towards the UniCop and gulped.

“Did I ... is he ... you know, dead?” He asked quietly.

Tommy walked over and checked the body. “No, the bastard is still very much alive.” Toby came up behind him and looked down at the UniCop. Tommy stood up and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Look, go and see to your folks. I'll take care of this guy.” Toby sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve before turning and running over to the prisoner transport.

As Tommy watched him climb into the back of the transport only to be engulfed by his parents, he heard a noise behind him.

“Thank you.” Travis barely managed to whisper. Tommy knelt down and looked at the man's face. It was a mass of bruises, one eye swollen shut, his noise broken and his skin covered in blood.

“Don't thank me,” he began to whisper to Travis, “I didn't do it for you. I could quite happily have let him do it. He would have smashed down and with his strength he would've crushed your skull, splattering your brains all over this floor. Given what I just saw, he might've even enjoyed it too. But here's what makes him different from you and me. Later, when he calmed down. He would have regretted it, he would've felt guilty about. It'd probably destroy him.” Travis opened his mouth to speak but Tommy clamped his hand over his mouth cutting him off. “You call people like me terrorists, monsters even. You don't see us fucking each other over because of a few differences in DNA. How many people have you sent off to their deaths? How many of them were kids, and how many of them even knew why they were being executed?” He paused and looked around. The others were by the prisoner transport helping Toby's family into the Tank. None of them were paying him any attention. “If I was someone else, I'd just leave you here for the medtechs. But unfortunately for you,” with his free hand he rolled up his right sleeve revealing a tattoo consisting of the number “217” with the word “Gamma” underneath. When Travis saw it, his eyes widened in fear and he tied to call out. His cries muffled by Tommy's Hand “I'm just following the training you people gave me.” He shifted his grip to cover Travis's nose and held on tight as Travis tried in vain to twist out from under his grip. The struggling became weaker as Travis suffocated and eventually they stopped altogether. He got up, took one last look at the body and joined the others.

“We're approaching the rendezvous point, you ready Sarah?” Jared called over his shoulder as he swooped the Tank down towards the roof of the Westgate Arcology.

Sarah stood at the Tank's side door, clipping on a safety harness. “Just about,” she said into the headset microphone. She slapped the release button and the door slid open, the wind buffeting the interior the craft. On the rapidly approaching roof she could just make out a figure in dark grey camo's similar to hers, hunched by a graffiti strewn ventilation grill. It was Kai, waiting for them at the usual rendezvous point. Sarah focused on the figure and held the microphone to her mouth. “I've got visual, keep her steady Jared. I don't want Kai materialising upside down again.” As the Tank streaked over Kai she held out her hand and pointed at him. He was enveloped in a white light and vanished only to reappear at the back of the Tank's cabin. She closed the door while Talbot gave Jared the go ahead to continue on to the Hudson Arco Complex.

----

Tommy's digital form coalesced next to a chandelier-like structure of blue light. It represented one of the many cell towers in quadrant three that served the residents of the Hudson Arco Complex. In the distance, he could see the glow of the rest clearly against the inky blackness. Flashes of blue light connected them while others raced out into the ether. Each mote of light represented a communication packet or computer instruction. Tommy was never sure whether this was what communication networks really looked like from the inside or whether this was simply how his mind decided to interpret the sensory information he received while in digital form. Either way, he thought it was beautiful, a universe of stars and fireworks that only he could perceive.

He watched the pattern of lights inside the structure for a few seconds, studying the flow of data through the cell tower's system. Then, carefully, he reached between the threads of light and grasped the core of the system's programming. Squeezing hard, he restricted and blocked the flow of data through the core, overwhelming its programming and security software. Almost as if he were throttling the life out of it. The light within spluttered and died leaving only a few flickering embers.

Now for the tricky part. Tommy reached within his pocket and pulled out a glowing red spark. He gently placed the spark on the now dark core and pressed down on it, pushing it deep into the system. Finally he leaned forwards and breathed gently on it. Slowly, a red glow spread throughout the core and into the matrix of data conduits around it. Soon he was standing in front of a red version of the blue structure that had been present before. He shielded his eyes in preparation for the next move. With a mental command, he instructed the cell tower to transmit the new system software to the other cell towers in quadrant three. It complied instantly and several jagged bolts of red lightning lashed out and struck the other towers which soon took on the same red hue. Once all the towers were infected, instead of relaying the motes of light they began to repeatedly emit a bright red flash that swept outwards extinguishing all the other lights. “That should hold for a couple of hours,” he thought to himself. His work done, Tommy closed his eyes and shifted back to the real world.

----

Kai buckled himself and looked around the cabin. “Isn't the new kid coming along?”

Talbot loaded a clip into an assault rifle before responding. “No, he's staying behind.”

Kai looked surprised at this. “Huh? If I was him no force on Earth could stop...” he stopped mid sentence and looked at Talbot as he suddenly realised the situation. “Jesus Talbot, you didn't tell him did you? You didn't tell him who the targets were.”

“I felt it best that for the time being that he not know. It'd only worry him unduly.”

“The kid has a right to know that ...” Kai began before he was interrupted by Talbot.

“The last thing I need is an emotionally unstable teenager panicking and screwing this mission up.”

Tommy reappeared back in his seat. “All the cell towers in quadrant three are now emitting a broad spectrum jamming field which should render all communication devices in the area unusable. It should also play havoc with sat scan as well.”

Talbot nodded at Tommy before turning back to Kai, his voice slightly softer. “Besides, he still needs to process what's already happened to him. At the end of the day, BetaForce does not put minors in combat situations unless we are sure they can handle it.” He glanced at Tommy who was busy checking his equipment before continuing. “Unlike the Unity, we don't like training children to be soldiers.”

“ETA 30 seconds,” stated Jared from the cockpit as they banked left and descended until they were flying down an artificial canyon formed by skyscrapers. Their target, the massive Hudson Arco Complex stood directly ahead. Its five arcology towers standing tall, their upper stories hidden by the low cloud.

----

Travis was whistling when he shoved the last of the prisoners, a little girl, into the van. The operation had gone off without a hitch. Although the father had managed to get a lucky hit in before he was stunned. For his troubles he had earned a nasty head wound and a concussion. Travis had particularly enjoyed administering the post stun beating.

The squad's three vehicles, a prisoner transport van and two escort vehicles were parked in the sky garage on the 50th floor of the tower, a quarter of the way up. Surrounding the convoy was a detachment of police officers from the local Sector PD. None of them looked happy to be there as there was little love lost between the two forces. The chronically underfunded Sector PD are responsible for law enforcement, keeping the peace and providing a public service. On the other hand the UniCops solely concerned themselves with enforcing the authority of the Unity, frequently breaking the law themselves in the pursuit of their duty. Something which Sector PD can do nothing about and causes much resentment towards the UniCops on the part of Sector PD officers.

Travis and the other UniCops ignored the police officers as they congratulated themselves. Suddenly, a squeal of static caused UniCop and sector cop alike to clutch their earpieces. The commander of the UniCops tried in vain to get in touch with central but received nothing but static in response. “Let's pack up and move out boys. Comms are down which probably means trouble's coming.” The commander got into the lead escort vehicle with one of the UniCops, two others into the rear escort, while Travis rode in back of the prisoner van with the remaining two UniCops in the front.

As Sector PD began to quietly disperse the crowd of onlookers, heavy metal grates began to lower across the vehicle access ways preventing exit to the outside. The UniCop from the lead escort vehicle hopped out and jogged over to a control box beside the entrance in front of the convoy. After inspecting the panel inside he turned and called out to the commander. “It's no good sir, the manual override has been overridden. Someone has taken control of the system and locked us out.”

The commander's response was drowned out as the Tank rose up behind UniCop at the grate, its autocannon spraying bullets through the grate and tearing into the UniCop's body. The bullets continued onwards, ricocheting off the armour of the lead escort vehicle causing the UniCop commander to duck. Using the gun fire as a cover, Sarah teleported Kai and Talbot behind some skycars to the side of the prisoner van and the rear escort. Talbot disengaged the safety on his assault rifle, selected burst fire mode and turned to Kai. Kai nodded, confirming he was ready and both of them simultaneously popped out from behind cover and took aim.

Drawing his hands back as if getting ready to pitch a baseball, Kai touched the seal he had drawn on his hands with a marker pen and uttered a word in a long forgotten language. The word activated the seal's magic and a ball of electricity formed which with a grunt he hurled forwards at the UniCop in the passenger side of the prisoner transport. A bolt of lightning arced between him and his target which took the full brunt of the strike. The UniCop howled in pain as several million volts of electricity coursed through his nervous system. Talbot ducked as gun fire from the UniCops in the rear escort vehicle peppered the skycar he was crouching behind.

As the Tank's bullets sprayed the lead escort vehicle, shattering the front windscreen, the commander sheltered in the foot well. Cursing his bad luck, he clambered over to the passenger side where the weapons console was located. He armed a missile and launched it at the enemy craft ahead of him. The missile leapt out of the launcher and streaked across the garage towards the Tank on the far side of the grate. Inside the Tank, alarms screamed their warning as Jared swore as he saw the incoming missile. “Hang on Sarah,” he yelled as he threw the Tank into a deep spiralling dive. The missile tore through the security grate leaving a gaping hole and sending jagged pieces of metal tumbling to the ground some 180 meters below.

Sarah unbuckled her harness and opened the side door. “The other's might need me!” With that she leapt out of the door and into the air. As she fell silvery ethereal wings, glowing with a soft light, formed behind her.

As Jared watched her soar back up to the garage level, he sighed. “I hate it when she does that ... but boy does she look good when she does.”

----

By the emergency stairwells, the last of the civilians were being evacuated by the sector police officers. One of the officers turned at looked back towards the combat.

“Sarge, shouldn't we go back and help?”

“No,” the sergeant in charge of the detachment responded as he pulled the young recruit into the stairwell, “let the Uni's take care of themselves.”

----

Seeing the missile tear the security gate apart, the commander sat up and leant out the side window. Looking back towards the other vehicles he surveyed the scene. The sound of static attracted his attention and he turned back round. He was shocked to see a youth in grey camo's sitting in the passenger seat. Tommy slammed his left elbow into the commanders chest causing him to double over. He followed this off with a savage blow to the side of the head with his right fist which was wearing a knuckle duster. The commander fell forward unconscious.

Meanwhile the other two vehicles had fired up their thrusters and begun to hover. The rear escort vehicle rotated on the spot to bring its weapons in line with Kai and Talbot. The pilot of the prisoner van, after seeing his partner literally cooked alive, was panicking and moving the van around the front escort towards the opening.

Laser target designators painted Kai and Talbot as the escort vehicle brought its weapon systems online. “Tommy, pulse the garage NOW!” screamed Kai as he saw Tommy jump out of the lead escort.

Tommy closed his eyes and focused his concentration. With a howl, he flooded the control systems of the three UniCop vehicles with enough electromagnetic energy to fry their circuits. Tommy collapsed to the floor panting, covered in sweat and bleeding slighty from the nose. Generating an EMP was incredibly painful and consequently he didn't do it very often, but when he did the effects on the enemy could be catastrophic.

----

The anti-aircraft missile streaked after the Tank as Jared threw the vehicle through a series of reckless evasive manoeuvres. He nearly collided with a hover bike almost knocking its young rider off. Concerned for the safety of other motorists, he pulled the Tank away from the traffic lanes and up into the sky. The missile was getting closer and the digital range counter was rapidly approaching zero when he spotted the break he had been looking for. With the lock on warning tone nearly a continuous screech he headed for the cluster of communications antennas on top of one of the Hudson arcology towers. Jared jinked and threaded the Tank between the antennas clipping one or two on the way. The missile however couldn't keep up and smashed into one of the relays and exploded in a massive ball of flame.

“Whew,” Jared smirked, “that was close.” As he brought the Tank around his eyes widened in realisation. “Wait, wasn't that...”

----

The engines on the UniCop vehicles spluttered and cut out as their control systems died. With a shower of sparks the prisoner transport fell to the garage floor and scraped to a halt and the rear escort fell unceremoniously to the floor with a bone jarring crunch.

Talbot exchanged fire with one of the UniCops in the escort vehicle, rounds spraying in both directions. Kai reached into one of the pockets on his tactical vest. He pulled out a white golf ball that had a series of runes drawn on it in black ink. From another pocket he pulled out a slingshot. Placing the ball delicately in the slingshot's pocket he took a deep breath and in one fluid motion, popped up from behind the skycar, fired the projectile at the escort vehicle and ducked back down again.

As the ball left the slingshot it became enveloped in a veil of green energy leaving a trail of sparks behind it as it flew through the air, its runes clearly visible burning with a fierce green light. On impact the ball erupted into a green explosion which left retina burns in the eyes of anyone looking directly at it. One of the UniCops, the driver, howled and clutched his eyes. Dropping his weapon on the outside of the vehicle.

Talbot turned and looked at Kai who was grinning and loading another ball. “Does your cousin know you're borrowing his slingshot?” Kai just laughed and prepared to fire again. “And are those MY golf balls your enchanting?”

Sarah landed at the hole in the grate and dismissed her wings. She ran past the escort vehicle towards the back of the prisoner transport. When she got there she found Tommy repeatedly pounding on the door. “Door's locked from the inside,” he explained frustratedly, “and I already fried the frigging electronic lock!”

“Echo One should have some C4,” Sarah suggested using Talbot's codename now that they were on mission, “we could blow the door lock.”

“No good,” Tommy began, “the Aerodyne AV5 Prisoner Transport Craft used by the Unity has a titanium-carbon fibre pseudo-alloy fuselage. A charge powerful enough to pierce its armour will SARAH BEHIND YOU!”

Sarah span round as Tommy called out his warning to see a UniCop standing behind her pointing a gun at point-blank range at her head. Tommy cursed, how could he have forgotten about the prisoner transports driver, as he tried to pull Sarah out of the line of fire.

Before any of them could react a hover bike flew in through the hole in the grate and round the side of the lead escort and prisoner transport. A helmet held outstretched smashed into the head of the UniCop as the bike shot past the three of them at maximum speed. There was a loud crack and the UniCop collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The young rider of the bike jumped off the vehicle and ran over to Sarah and Tommy.

The two of them were a little stunned by what had just happened. Tommy was the first to snap to when he recognised the person running towards them. “Toby, what the hell are you doing here?” The younger boy didn't answer, he just glared at Tommy.

Inside the back of the van, officer Travis was now getting very worried indeed. First comms had gone down leaving him unable to contact any of his fellow UniCops, then gunfire and explosions had erupted outside. The lights in he back had died at the same time as the engines and the inside of the van was only lit by his helmet light. Then someone had started pounding on the doors. Taking advantage of the distraction the father, still with his hands bound behind his back, shoulder barged Travis. The man merely bounced off Travis's armour. Travis punched the man in the chest, drew his sidearm and shot the man in the leg. He went down, hissing in pain through gritted teeth.

Travis grabbed the little girl by her hair and lifted her off the floor. She screamed as she dangled and her mother moved to get up. “One more move and I cut the brats head off!” He threatened, putting a knife to her throat. A terrific wrenching sound made him turn as the armoured doors of the van were torn of their hinges and thrown across the garage smashing into a pillar. Before Travis could act a combat knife, standard UniCop issue, hurled into his right shoulder burying itself up to its hilt. He dropped the little girl, who scrambled back to her parents, and his own knife as he clutched at the wound. His attacker, whom he recognised as the young mutant that had escaped him earlier that day, climbed into the back of the van. Blood was dripping from cuts on Toby's palms where he had torn at the metal and his entire body shook with rage

“GET AWAY FROM MY LITTLE SISTER!”

The door to the 65th floor apartment flew open as a pint sized, dark haired ball of energy shot in the direction of the living room. Shoes and coat dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. A few seconds later, an older boy entered carrying bags of groceries blocking his view and he stumbled forward dropping the bags. A quick wave of his hand and the bags halted in mid fall. “Lee, how many times have I told you about those damn shoes!” he yelled half-heartedly. “Hey Kai, what's for dinner?” was the response he got.

Kai had a slight but not scrawny build, with dark skin. Darker than his cousin's. He was clean shaven but with scruffy murky blond hair. His unkempt, almost uncontrollable hair, was kept back by a red bandanna style headband. The long baggy blue jeans trailed on the floor and he wore a white short sleeved t-shirt underneath a black basketball vest. Tattooed on his forearms was the kanji symbol for courage and as he shrugged his backpack to the floor, the metal karabiners attached to it clinked noisily.

Picking up the groceries from mid air, he back kicked the door close. “I swear that boy is going to kill me one of these days,” he muttered as he dodged the skateboard and bike lying on the floor in the middle of the entryway. “And you better get this lot cleaned up before your dad gets home.”

As he entered the apartment proper, a feminine electronic voice made itself known. “Welcome back Kai. You have five new messages one of which is from Kiba. You also asked me to remind you to complete the college application form by Monday the 21st of this month.”

“Play uncle's message.”

“Message received today at fourteen oh nine. Message begins.”

“Kai, I've got to work late again tonight. There's a couple of frozen pizza's in the freezer for you and Lee. Make sure Lee does his homework and gets to bed by nine if I'm not back before then. See you tonight.”

“Message ends. Do you wish to review the other four messages?”

“No, I'll listen to them later.”

The lights came in in the kitchen as he entered, the motion sensor registering his presence. He dropped the groceries on the metal counter and reached for the freezer door. An electronic post-it note on the freezer's smart display caught his attention. “Oven's bust. Money on the counter for take out.” Uncle Kiba must have forgot about that when he left the message earlier. Ignoring it, he pulled a large pepperoni out out of the freezer. “Oi, sprocket, pepperoni ok with you?” he yelled in the direction of his cousin in the living room. Over the din of the latest episode of Jake Danger: Mutant Hunter he got a vague affirmative response.

After unwrapping the pizza, he placed it on a baking tray and pulled out a silver permanent marker. As he etched a series of glyphs on the black surface of the tray he called out to Lee. “Anything happen in school today?”

“Nah, not much 'cept a bunch a Uni's running around.”

The glyphs faded from sight as he reached for the emergency flash light in the cupboard above the counter. “UniCops? What did they want?”

“Miss Anderson said that it was just a routine visit checking up on security but she was lying.”

“How do you know she was lying?” As he listened to his cousin's answer, he checked the battery in the flash light. Satisfied that there was enough juice, he bit the end of his finger and traced a complex diagram on the lens in his own blood.

“She always scratches her nose and fiddles with her glasses every time she tells us something she knows isn't true. Like the time she taught us about the bioterror attack on Africa and the quarantine afterwards. 'sides Billy said they were after some 9th grader who jumped the school fence and ran off.”

Kai held the torch over the frozen pizza and turned it on. As the light passed through the blood diagram, it was converted into heat and magnified several times. The now invisible silver glyphs on the baking tray acted as a temporal compression circle increasing the speed of time on the tray and its contents. The effect was to turn the flash light and the baking tray into a jury-rigged microwave. After a couple of minutes, he had to swap the hand holding heavy flash light. He may be able to violate the fundamental laws of the universe but he couldn't do anything about stopping his arm from getting tired.

As the pizza quickly cooked, he thought on what his cousin had told him. That 9th grader was probably the one his team had tried to get to ahead of the cops. From what Lee had said, it sounded like they had cut it pretty close. He asked the apartment's computer to show him the text of the other four messages on the freezer's smart display. As he expected, the last one was a coded message from Virus, Tommy's online handle. “Package received intact, little wear and tear but nothing serious.” Relieved he went back to quizzing Lee on the rest of his day.

Five minutes later the pizza was cooked, and after letting stand for a minute to cool he took it into the living room with a couple of plates. Jake Danger was leading a squad of valiant Unity Soldiers against a mutant stronghold, gunning down the evil terrorists with his twin Pacifier assault rifles. “How can you watch this shit?” Kai mumbled between mouthfuls of pizza.

----

Toby had been left alone with Talbot in his office. “So, history lesson 101,” Talbot began as he walked over to the fridge in the corner, “a long time ago in a galaxy far away there was a super team called Alpha Force.” He opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer and tossed one at Toby who was now sitting down at the table.

“You do realise I'm only 14 right?” He asked the older man as he held the beer.

“Oh please, you're a 14 year old teenage boy living in the big city. I'm sure you know of at least four stores that don't ask for ID when buying a six pack of Bud. Besides, after what you've been through today you deserve something a little stronger than fizzy pop.” Talbot took a swig from his bottle as he sat down.

“Now where was I ... ah, Alpha Force. Before the Unification War, Unifer's victory and the rise of the Unity, Alpha Force were the worlds greatest team of superheroes. Along with the EU's EuroForce, the UN's Overwatch, and independent teams like Legion and the Army of Light, they kept the world safe from supervillains and global disasters. They were good at their jobs too.” Talbot paused for a second, with a distant expression as if remembering something. “A little too good perhaps. You see whenever some major league bad guy showed up, the hero teams would take them down. When some tin-pot dictatorship started ethnic cleansing or invaded a neighbouring country, by the time the international community had decided on the wording of their statement of condemnation, the heroes had already gone and sorted it out. Even on a local level, the indie heroes helped keep crime levels down.” As Talbot got up and began pacing, Toby began to suspect that this was a common rant of his.

“When Unifer took out Alpha Force with a single shot and shut down the world's infrastructure, his minions were taking out the other teams as well. With our protectors gone, everything started to fall apart and we realised how dependent we were on them. You see, we'd gotten complacent and started relying on them. By the time Unifer made his play in Washington the world didn't really know how to deal with a crisis on that scale any more. Some tried to fight, to resist Unifer's new regime. But for most, survival was the priority. After the pulse, supplies in the cites ran out pretty quickly. There was looting and rioting everywhere, what was left of the government folded within a couple weeks. Then came the collapse of the biosphere in the central states. The Unity blamed it on biological and chemical attacks by terrorists and massive climatic upheavals. With the grain belt gone, people began to starve. So called relief efforts were confined to the coastal cities where the Unity had total control and as the centre of the continent became uninhabitable that's where everyone fled. A similar thing happened to Africa. They had a quite successful resistance going until Unifer just got tired and ordered the entire continent dusted with bioweapons wiping out the entire population. Sure it was blamed on a terrorist's bioattack gone horribly wrong but nobody back then bought it. The message was clear, fuck with the Unity and they gang bang back.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Toby asked a little confuse as to where Talbot was going. Talbot sat back down and looked at Toby.

“To make you understand what it is that we face. After Africa everybody was terrified at what the Unity would do if people tried to rebel. Now, after 30 years of propaganda filled with subliminal programming and chemicals like G26 Paxilon-Hydrochlorate in the food and water, people don't want to rebel.”

“Can you blame them? Pollution levels in the ECM are less than 10% of New York's before Unification. The ECM has a population of 200 million compared to New York's 10 which makes that reduction all the more impressive. Thanks to synthetic food stuffs and urban AgroTowers, famine has all but been abolished and climate modification technology has repaired most of the damage done by the polynational era. The planet's not been in better shape in the last hundred years!”

----

“Unit Delta Six, sat scan confirms that the targets are still located in their apartment.”

Officer Travis rubbed his nose as his commander talked with central. His nose had only recently been healed by the med techs after the run in with a mutant earlier in the day. A run in that had cost the life of his elder partner. He was itching for some “occupational therapy” as his instructor had once put it.

“Be careful men,” the squad commander advised, “as far as we know our targets do not possess any metahuman abilities but take no chances.” With a flick of his finger, the commander ordered the six man squad of UniCops to move out and they began to approach the target's apartment. As they positioned themselves around the door, he signalled one of his men stationed at the building security centre to override the locking mechanism and grant them access. He held his hand up, fingers outstretched and began a silent countdown.

----

“Are you seriously going to try and defend a government that tried to have you gunned down on the street less than three hours ago? ... Thought not. The fact is that all that 'progress' was done with a gun to our heads.” Talbot sighed. “But in a way you're right. Over half the population believe the lie. Most of the rest know they're being lied to and either don't believe anything can be done about it or think returning to the chaos of the Unification War is not an option. Only a tiny minority can see that there is something terribly wrong with the world and have the courage to do anything about it. Someone once said, when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, envinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and provide new guards for their future security.”

“And in English?”

“When there's something wrong, those with the ability to do something about it have the responsibility to act.”

Toby looked down at the table and took a deep gulp from the beer bottle in front of him. “Let's cut the crap, the only reason you're telling me any of this is you want me to sign up with your little rebellion.” He stood up, leaning forward with both hands planted firmly on the table glaring at Talbot. “Thanks for saving my ass and everything, but what help could I be? I'm still in school for chrissakes! ”

Talbot looked at him for a second, the silence hanging between them. Then, in one swift motion, he reached behind him and pulled out a handgun aiming at Toby's forehead. The end of the muzzle just a few centimetres from his face. “Despite the fact that you're still just a kid you are the strongest person on this base, not to mention the fastest and most agile. If I pulled this trigger you'd be back up and in my face within 15 seconds max.” Putting the gun on the table he continued. “Plus you didn't even flinch when a near stranger pointed a gun straight at your face. You've got the guts and the ability and I know you're not stupid.”

Toby sat back down, let out the breath he'd been subconsciously holding and took an even bigger gulp from the bottle. “Interesting recruitment technique you get there,” he paused while he tried to think, “say I wanted in. What would ...”

He was interrupted when a wall mounted phone started to ring. “Hold that thought,” Talbot said holding up a finger as he walked over and picked up the handset. “This is Talbot, go ahead.” Toby couldn't hear who was on the other end but from Talbot's expression it wasn't good news. Talbot looked at Toby, his face was grim. After a couple of minutes he hung up and pulled out a hand held communicator. “Just got a message from Spectre, we need to intercept a UniCop snatch squad ASAP. Everyone to the hanger bay on the double. Tommy, do your thing and get Kai down here.” He turned to Toby as started to leave. “Looks like we'll have to continue this conversation later.”

As he got to the door, Toby stood up and caught up with him. “Look, if you need a hand I could...”

Before he could finish, Talbot turned around and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Maybe next time Toby. This time I really need you to stay here until we get back.” With that he turned and began running down the corridor towards the hanger.

Toby watched him leave, a little angry. “So much for having the ability.”

----

Mercifully, Kai's mobile rang giving him a convenient excuse to slip out and not endure any more of Jake Danger: Mutant Hunter. He went to his bedroom in order to not disturb his cousin and also to ensure that the conversation was not overheard.

“S'up Tommy ... Ok, see you as soon as I can.” As he ended the call he heard the front door open.

----

On zero, Travis opened the door and quietly entered the apartment. He was taking point partly because of the screw up that happened when he and his partner and been sent to apprehend an unregistered mutant at the local school earlier that day. Travis had also volunteered for this operation and had asked to to take point. He had a score to settle.

Advancing into the apartment, he could hear the sounds of the TV in the living room. Raising his stunner, he took aim at the small figure silhouetted by the screen.

--

Kai stepped out into the hallway just as his uncle Kiba walked in the door. His cousin ran out of the living room and into his fathers waiting arms. Kai waited a second as his uncle said hello to his son before interrupting. After saying hello himself, he got down to business.

“Stacy just called,” Lee wrinkled his nose and made puking sounds as he heard what he assumed was the name of Kai's girlfriend, “her computer's down again and she needs my help.” His uncle on the other hand recognised the code phrase and simply nodded.

“Don't be out too late, I need some help with the shop's inventory tomorrow.”

“I won't,” Kai responded before closing the front door behind him. He hurried down the corridor towards the emergency stair. The door on this level had thankfully had its alarm disabled by an enterprising young mutant with technopathic powers, as had the security cameras on either side. Making sure that nobody was watching he quickly opened the door and slipped through.

The lights were flickering in the stairwell, more off than on, and the air smelt stale. Using the flash light on his mobile he located a patch of graffiti on the wall. A stylised leopard with tiny Japanese characters in place of spots. Kai placed the fingers of both hands very carefully on a set of specific spots and uttered the word “Kendra”. A split second later he was sucked into the wall.

----

Jared sat behind the controls of The Tank, the teams primary vehicle. It resembled the bastard love child of an APC and and stubby winged aircraft with two swivel mounted thrusters mounted on each side of its lifting body fuselage. Small folding wings, insufficient to provide any lift, acted as stabilizers as did a pair of vertical fins at the rear. The ten meter long body was covered in dark grey armour plates, hexagon in shape. The plates themselves were in turn coated in chameleon paint providing reduced visibility and limited stealth capabilities. Two pods on the roof contained micromissiles and a large autocannon mounted beneath the cockpit completed its armaments. As the craft completed its boot up sequence, he quickly pulled on a set of charcoal grey camouflaged fatigues. Behind him Sarah was pulling a set of her own from a storage locker.

A console flickered and Tommy appeared in his seat in a burst of static, already in uniform. Seconds later Talbot bounded up the rear loading ramp, hitting the close button as he passed it. “Kai's on his way, he'll be here as soon as he can,” he reported as Talbot passed him.

“Good,” Talbot responded as he sat down and fastened his safety harness, “I need you to go the Hudson Arcoplex in quadrant 3 and see if you can shut down comms in that area.”

“You got it boss.” Without bothering to unbuckle, he shifted to digital form and and vanished.

“Jared, let's get this hunk of metal on the road so to speak, as soon as we're airborne I'll fill you too in on our target's.”

----

All by himself, Toby began to pace up and down the briefing room. Talbot had made this big speech about responsibility and making a stand, had tried to persuade him to join up. However, the moment he offered his help he was back to being treated like a kid. Balling his fists, he finished off the beer and started down the corridor that Talbot had ran down. He got to the hanger bay just in time to see the dust left behind as a large vehicle accelerated up the exit ramp.

Looking around he saw that the hanger bay contained several vehicles. A couple of generic commercial vehicles, two ground cars, a long range cargo plane and even a familiar looking two trailer cargo drone complete with blood stains on the front grill. Nestled between these, Toby saw exactly what he was looking for, a hover cycle complete. The keys were even in the ignition. Without a moments hesitation he leapt aboard, gunned the engine, and roared off.

Toby woke with a pounding headache. With a ringing in his ears he cracked open an eye and looked around. He was lying in a bed, and judging by the beeping equipment next to it and the vague antiseptic smell, it was in some sort of hospital room. Apart from the bed he was lying in the room contained two other unoccupied beds and several computer displays, presumably used for displaying patients records and medical scans although they were all off at the moment. A clock mounted on the wall opposite the bed indicated that he had been unconscious for over two hours. As he propped himself up on his elbows, he tried to recall what he was doing in hospital. Had he been in some sort of accident? Looking at himself, he didn't seem to be injured although he did notice that under the blanket he was stark naked.

As he tried to process what was going on, he began to remember the last few hours in flashes. Fragments of memory, barely connected to one another. The UniCops at school. Vaulting over a 4 meter barbed wire fence. Being chased through the streets. Being shot in the leg. Surviving a broken neck and crushed skull. The cop with the knife. Being stunned and paralysed. A cargo drone swerving off the road. The wet crunch as it hit the cop. The red smear being left behind then a flash of blinding white light.

At this point Toby was sitting bolt upright in near panic, his mind racing from one worst case scenario to the next. One of the two doors into the room opened and a young women, no older than twenty backed into the room carrying something. She was wearing black jeans, black trainers and a loose-fitting white shirt. Her long blond hair was tied back into a pony tail. As she turned, Toby could see that she was wearing a silver chain around her neck and was carrying a digital clipboard with two cans of coke balanced on it in one hand and two shrink-wrapped sandwiches in the other. Whoever she was, she certainly didn't fit the picture of the stereotypical UniCop.

When the woman realised that he was awake she smiled and tossed one of the sandwiches on the bed. “Thought you might be hungry. Didn't know what you might like but cheese seemed the safest choice.” She followed up the sandwich with the coke can. “And you can never have too much liquid sugar in your system.”

“Er,” Toby began, now a little confused, “no offence but who the hell are you, where the hell am I, and what the fuck happened to my clothes!”

She laughed as she pulled up a chair and began to munch on her sandwich which seemed to be some sort of peanut butter and blue goo concoction. “Ok, in that order, my names Sarah and I'm the one who brought you here. You're in a safe place where the Unity can't find you and you're clothes are in the drawer under the bed. You were soaking wet after that dumpster dive of yours. They were filthy and you'd have probably caught pneumonia or worse if we'd left them on so I had them dried out.”

“But what about the ID implant? They can track those things from space.”

“Well, we're a quarter kilometre underground, not even God himself can track an implant through that much rock. Besides, it wouldn't do them much good since we surgically removed it and disposed of it while you were out.”

“You cut me open!” he nearly shouted.

“Yeah, and let me tell you,” she continued as she poked his chest with her finger, “operating on someone that can regenerate as fast as you is not easy. As soon as I made an incision you healed it back up. It was a real hack job, I had to get someone to hold the hole open with their hands while I cut the implant out from under your heart. How do you feel by the way.”

“There's this tinny echo whenever you speak and I feel like I'm about to throw up.”

Sarah consulted the display next to the bed and tapped a few things on the clipboard. “That's a normal side-effect of the drugs. They should pass in an hour or two. We didn't want you to wake up mid-op. THAT would have been messy.” She laughed at the last bit. Toby just grimaced meekly. “We put a fake implant in to replace the one we took out. You can't reprogram the ones the Unity put in but the one that's in there now can be reprogrammed with a new ID with the right tools.”

He just sat in silence looking down, not even touching the unopened sandwich. Sarah got up and threw her empty wrapper in the trash before turning back to the boy. “Look kid, get dressed. There someone who wants to talk to you and he can explain things better than I can. I'll be waiting outside when you're done.” And with that she left the room.

His head was swimming with a thousand unasked and unanswered questions. Reaching under the bed he pulled out the plastic bag containing his clothes. True to her word, they were dry and clean. The marks from the stagnant water were gone although there was a slight discolouration around the bullet holes in his shorts. Still feeling a little numb, he pulled on the ¾ length grey shorts and his red hooded top. As he stood up, a sudden wave of nausea flooded over him. The other door in the room was marked toilet. Clutching his mouth, he leapt over the bed and sprinted across the room. He threw the door open and just made it to the sink in time before he could no longer hold the contents of his stomach down. After a few heaves his stomach was empty and he gulped down some water to get rid of the acrid taste of bile. Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve he looked in the mirror. It was at that point that everything that he had been suppressing and avoided thinking about since all this had began came crashing down on him. Toby Smith was a mutant and an enemy of the state. The government would be looking for him, and if they found him, they would probably kill him. He could never go home, that would be the first place they would look. As far as his family was