The Immortals: Chapter One, Part Three

                Kendra gulped. The silence persisted as Nef continued to watch her, the black woman’s hands pressed – palm down – on the table. The sentence hanging between them – the bit about killing a lot of people – seemed to turn the air to ice in Kendra’s lungs, despite the fact that the rising sun was already starting to bring in the Californian warmth that she was so used too.

                “I don’t want to kill anyone,” Kendra said. She was immediately embarrassed by how her voice sounded: Weak, childish, whiny. She should have been able to say such an obviously moral thing with strength and conviction: ‘No, I will not kill anyone, for killing is wrong!’

                She should have. But she didn’t.

                Nef sighed, her breath misting in the air. “It is kill or be killed.”

                “And that makes it BETTER!?” Kendra winced at the way her own voice squeaked and popped, moving from tense to out and out hysterical.

                “No.” Nef shook her head. “No it does not. But it is the truth, and it is one that you will have to become accustomed too.”

                “I don’t…I won't…I…” Kendra held her hands up. “I have to get to school. I have a life! I have friends!”

                Nef stood. “If you leave my presence, Crichton will come back and kill you. And if not him, then the others might attack. Some of them are less scrupulous than Mr. Crichton.”

                “He came after an unarmed teenager with a sword!” Kendra put her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. The panic that she kept trying to nail down threatened to spiral up and out of control every time she opened her mouth.

                “He didn’t capture your family and hold them for ransom,” Nef said.

                Kendra stopped before she said what she was thinking – you people are monsters! – but it was a close one. She closed her eyes, turned around, and then opened her eyes. She looked at the parking lot of the foot court – empty, save for a few employee cars, or people parking to get the early bird deal at the local Couches and Quills – and she tried to imagine life with people like Crichton ready to pop out and stab her at any moment. She tried to imagine what it would be like: Paranoia, hiding, being armed all the time…she’d have to have a gun, for one thing. Or did guns not work on Immortals?

                “It’d…” She paused, then turned back to face Nef. “It’d be easier if you were less honest, you know?”

                Nef smiled.

                “If you didn’t let on about the whole killing people, life of violence thing, then I’d have been sold on the magic and the immortality.” Kendra smiled. “I…I might still freak out at any second, but for now, I am going to try and treat this as a comic book.”

                Nef looked a little non-plussed at that. Shaking her head, she stood and then gestured towards the exit of the food court.

                “Come on. I have some people you need to meet.”

                “Wait, what about school? I can’t just skip school.”

                Nef smiled as Kendra hurried up to her side, the two women walking out of the food court and onto the sidewalk that looped around the side of the court. She inclined her head in the direction of the school.

                “By the time tomorrow morning comes by, this day will have not happened. You did not plan to do anything majorly eventful this day, correct? Nothing that will alter the history of the country or the world if it does not happen, hmm?”

                “Um, not to my knowledge.” Kendra pursed her lips, blowing air through them like a whickering horse as she thought. It had been a habit she had picked up from…somewhere. She wasn’t entirely sure, and thinking about that would just send her off on another irrelevant thought train. “Why?”

                Nef sighed and then stopped as they came to another traffic light. She gestured.

                “What would happen if you went left, as opposed to right?”

                Kendra leaned forward, putting her hand on the chilly traffic light pole to brace herself as she looked down the street.

                “I’d end up at the library,” she said, nodding after a moment.

                “And if you went right?”

                Kendra looked right.

                “I’d get on the highway, eventually. Or I’d go over the overpass and get to the mall.” She grinned. “I could get new shoes.”

                Nef nodded. The lights changed and – rather than going left or right, they went straight. “Now, you would say that life is full of such choices. Go left or right. Wear this or that. Say this or that. Correct?”

                Kendra nodded.

                Nef stepped forward – so that she was a pace or two ahead of Kendra, an easy task with her long legs – and then turned on her heel. She started to walk backwards, without a care in the world.

                “What if you could re-make a decision? What if, after going left, you could decide to then go right instead?”

                Kendra thought about it for a moment.

                “Life would be like a video game, I guess.” Kendra grinned. “You can redo decisions that you don’t like. What did Bryant call it…” She rubbed her chin.

                “Bryant?”

                “Ex-boyfriend.”

                Nef nodded, solemnly. As she did so, Kendra snapped her fingers.

                “Save scumming!” She beamed. “The only way to beat X-Com.”

                Nef smiled. “Exactly. You reload the game whenever one of your favorite soldiers dies unfairly. You reload and reload until the enemy either misses him or until he survives being shot. That is the essence of immortality.”

                Kendra stopped, as if she had run straight into one of the traffic signs that dotted the sidewalk – the ones indicating where cars could park, and where buses would stop to pick people up. She held her hand up, palm flat to Nef.

                “Did…did you just reference X-Com?”

                Nef smiled. “I was born in 1988, Kendra.”

                “But…you…said you were an Ancient Egyptian!” Kendra said as Nef turned around – she had apparently reached her destination, as she turned into a side street that looked like it led straight to a gate for a gated community. Kendra hurried after the black woman – who started to tap buttons on a small intercom box that hung near the front of the gate.

                Nef grinned as the gate started to open. “I am. I was born in the year 1032 BC. But I was also born in 1988 AD. And last year, I was born in 1987. And in the year before that, I was born in 1986.”

                The gate had fully opened, revealing the normal façade of a gated community – a small garage, with an awning to protect the cars from sun and rain, a collection of apartments connected to one another by balconies and stairwells. Sitting before one of the apartments was a grindstone, where a man with a welding mask was grinding a sword against the stone – producing a flare of sparks.

                “Come,” Nef said, stepping into the gates. “You should meet your other allies and teachers.”

                And with more questions than answers, Kendra entered the Immortal’s refuge.

###

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The Immortals: Chapter One, Part Two

Running away from a psycho with a sword was not exactly what Kendra wanted to do for her Friday morning. Still, as she ducked around a corner in the bustling food court that sat a mere five blocks away from school and was easily reachable for anyone who didn’t want to scarf down school lunches, she had to admit: It was slightly more interesting than marching band!

                She giggled to herself, her hand going to her coat as she looked over her shoulder. No bad guy. No good girl. No swords. She bit her lip as she looked back in front of her, seeing all the shops that were just starting to wake up: There was a mom and pop burger joint called 1984 for reasons that she had never been able to nail down, a corporate pizza chain that tasted like utter ass, three different bread shops that all catered to a slightly different kind of breadish goodness – a donut shop, a Parisian styled café, and a shop that specialized in sandwiches.

                And all of them were closed, the doors locked despite the people within moving about and setting up their seats and starting their cooking.

                So, Kendra sat down on one of the metal seats that ringed around the metal tables that peppered the space between all the food stores. She reached into her pocket and scowled.

                “Where the hell is my phone?!” She drew her hand out of her pocket and then groaned. It had fallen out of her pocket, she was sure. “Great, first my thermos, now my phone. What next, universe? What are you going to steal from me next? My Firefly ringchain? Oh! Oh! I know! Take my-“

                She trailed off, noticing that one of the people who was cleaning the corporate pizza joint’s windows had come outside and then stopped his squirting and rubbing of windex to gape at her.

                She glared at him.           

                “Don’t you need to be in school?” He asked.

                Kendra scowled at him, drumming her fingers on the tabletop.

                And then, with a squeal of metal on concrete, her head was jerked back to the table: The tall, dark skinned woman from before had arrived without so much as a noise to announce her save for the sound you get when you drag a metal chair along a cold, concrete floor. She plopped herself down, panting softly.

                “Crichton won’t bother you for a while now, don’t worry.” The woman smiled.

                “From Farscape?”

                “What?” She looked nonplussed.

                “Nevermind,” Kendra put her mitten covered hands over her face, breathing steam through them. “What is going on?”

                “Do…you want the long version or the short?” The black woman was smiling calmly – her teeth shockingly white against the dark oval of her face. The sun had started to peek around clouds and shone directly in Kendra’s face, turning the woman into a pure silhouette. Kendra winced.

                “Name, first, then short. Then, when I don’t believe you, you can explain the long version…”

                The woman nodded, then smiled: “I am Nefertari.”

                “Odd name.”

                “It is Egyptian.”

                “Ah.” Kendra nodded, her eyes still scrunched up.          

                “I am Immortal.” Nef – as Kendra started thinking of her almost immediately – said.

                “Ahh.” Kendra nodded again.

                “And so are you.”

                “OKAY!” Kendra put her hands on the table. “I’m just going to leave, uh, now!” She turned around. This was too weird. This was too weird and she was late for school and…and the sun was in her eyes and there were so many many MANY reasons to just turn around and leave and never ever come back.

                Nef sighed. “Kendra…first, I believe you should check your pockets.”

                Kendra stopped.

                She slid her hand into her pocket.

                And she pulled out her cellphone. Then, sliding her hand into her other pocket, she felt that it bulged – quite suddenly – with the thermos, straining against the pocket. She pulled it out with a bit of grunting, squirming and shifting her hips to get the thermos to slide free.

                She held both objects, then turned around to face Nef. From this angle, she could actually see the details of the other woman’s face without the sun blazing everything out.

                Nef smiled.

                “Neat trick…” Kendra gulped. “If I stay…will more psychos come after me with a sword and try to hack my head off?”

                Nef nodded.

                “And if…I leave…will more psychos come after me with a sword and try to hack my head off?”

                Nef nodded again.

                Kendra fogged the air before her face and sat down. The thermos sat before her – the unicorn horn gleamed in the sunlight, looking remarkably…swordlike. She looked at the thermos, then at the woman – at the ancient Egyptian.

                “I am Immortal,” She said. “And so are you. Immortals have existed since the dawn of human history, but we have always been drawn, one to the other, by the ripples we make in the world. That rippling effect, that…change that we can create, that is what brings us immortality and what keeps us at eachother’s throats. For if there is ever only one Immortal…he or she will be a god.”

                Kendra nodded, slowly.

                “Those of us who wish to be a god, The God, seek to slay every other immortal for this prize. Those of us who believe humanity deserves its own fate, they seek to foster peace among immortals. I will take you under my wing, and teach you the ways of our kind…but if you wish to pursue the prize, I will not stop you, though I cannot promise that I will always stay my hand.”

                Kendra thought, for a long moment, her brow furrowed.

                “So, my choices are…kill a bunch of people to become god, or not kill people and stay my old, boring self?”

                “No,” Nef smiled. “Either way, you will be extraordinary.”

                Kendra bit her lip.

                “And you will have to kill a lot of people.”

###

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The Immortals: Chapter One, Part One

So, I'm going to write 1,000 words a day, and post them here. They will be a novel, called The Immortals.

Without further hesitation.

The Immortals.

###

Chapter One: The Ripple

                What, exactly, Jeremiah Crichton – the third richest man in America – was doing on the corner of 9^th and Fairbanks in the sleepy, none-too-interesting Californian suburb called Samville was not readily obvious. There were no major deals, no new corporations to check out (and purchase and gut) and Samville was not exactly famous for anything save for its overabundance of orange trees – trees that grew in small plots between the buildings in the main street and cluttered up half the back yards of the suburb.

                From Kendra Watts’ perspective, Jeremiah Crichton wasn’t the third richest man in America. He wasn’t famous. He wasn’t even all that noteworthy. For a girl who was more interested in the upcoming prom – three days till she could unleash her frilly pink and white striped dress on an unsuspecting and unprepared school – the only thing that was noteworthy about Mr. Crichton was that he was flipping a coin.

                Kendra was waiting at the traffic light at 9^th, waiting to cross to get to the next part of her walk to school, her fingers drumming on the cool metal pole that held the crosswalk button. The button, stuffed with more modern electronics than her cellphone, continued to chant the monotone warning that most crosswalk buttons did in California these days: “Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.”

                She rolled her eyes. “I know. I am waiting.”

                She took a moment to sip from her cup of early morning hot chocolate – which she had microwaved and dumped into her bright pink and purple unicorn thermos – the unicorn horn made a straw, and the head had a small ring hanging from the front, that she could hook her thumb into. But as she sipped the still-way-too-hot liquid, she noticed something.

                The suited weirdo behind her, the one who was flipping the coin, was flipping said coin…in time with the crosswalk button. Wait. Flip. Wait. Flip. Wait. Flip.

                She frowned slightly. He was…definitely giving her a major creeper vibe: Black suit, sunglasses, a black tie that showed up starkly against his white undershirt. He even had black gloves. He breathed in slow, steady, perfectly even breaths – visible in the crisp morning of late December. Kendra looked back at the crosswalk button and her thumb slipped down towards it.

                She pressed down and the button bleeped, then said: “Wait.”

                Creepers –as Kendra had called them ever since she was old enough to realize that certain behavior wasn’t entirely pleasant for her to experience from others – were a fact of life for a girl in high school. Most of the time, they were nothing more than boys being boys – and thus, being completely unable to talk to girls without sounding as if they were about to burst into flames. But sometimes…

                She glanced back over her shoulder.

                The coin-flipper started to walk towards her.

                “Walk.”

                The voice broke through her sudden spike of fear and Kendra walked. She hurried across the street with more speed than she would have – since she was at least five minutes away from school and had about ten to get there. But she wanted to leave this coin-flipper behind. And so, she walked faster and harder.

                And behind her, she heard very expensive shoes clicking on the ground.

                She got to the far side of the street, turned around, saw that the coin flipper was within an arm’s reach of her-

                Opened her mouth to speak-

                And then he spoke.

                “There can be only one.”

                Kendra’s eyes widened and she saw the man draw a sword from…nowhere. One instant, he had nothing. The next, he had a scabbard at his hip and a blade in his hand. It was a long, elegant blade, with a complex, curving handle that protected his knuckles. The handle glittered and flashed in the crisp sunlight of the morning.

                Kendra threw her hot chocolate in his face. The thermos’s horn jabbed into the man’s eye, and the top burst off with the impact. He staggered backwards, and into the cars that had started to pass now that the light had changed.

                One instant, Kendra saw that he was standing right in front of a large, bright red Prius. The next instant, the Prius was one lane over – the rightmost turning lane was blocked off by orange cones, and shocked looking workmen who were resurfacing and repainting the road.

                Workmen that hadn’t been there five seconds ago.

                Kendra could have asked questions. But she had just lost her favorite thermos, and a psychopath with a sword was trying to kill her. She decided to shelve the questions, turn around, and run as fast as she could. Her shoes clattered on the sidewalk and she heard the man – snarling in anger – chasing after her.

                There can be only one, what!? She thought to herself as she looked for some manner of escape, some possibility of help. There were no pedestrians in sight of her – it was too early, too cold, and too many people drove to school, the lazy-

                She heard a swish behind her and threw herself forward…

                Onto a mattress. A mattress that was set on the side of the walkway, with a small placard hung around it that said: FREE MATTRESS! The mattress hadn’t been there, but right now, Kendra was too busy being damn grateful as she rolled onto her back just as the tip of the man’s sword plunged in after her. She scrambled backwards, shouting: “HELP! SOMEONE HELP!”

                The man lashed out with a very fancy shoe, slamming it onto her chest, right between her breasts. He pressed down, forcing her onto her back. His sword aimed at her throat, then pressed against the soft flesh of her neck.

                His gloved hand wiped at his face and he scowled, then…

                Another blade flashed. It caught his sword, right in the middle, and there was a sudden flare of sparks and a flash of blue-white light as the blades were caught together, forced up and away from Kendra’s throat, which was nicked by the quick contact.

                “Run!” The figure who had interposed herself between Kendra and the man was tall, bald, and very very black. She had an angular, almost starved looking face, and wore a very thick white coat, with two large scabbards across her back – one sword was sheathed, the other – a curved Japanese style sword – was in her hand. “I’ll explain later!”

                Kendra didn’t need to be told twice.

###

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Pacific Rim: It's a jolly good film...

...BUT it has a few logical flaws.

Pacific Rim, if you were wondering, is a totally fantastic film about a war between humanity and gigantic alien monsters from a parallel universe are attacking our cities at an exponential rate. And so, humanity has decided to fight them with GIANT ROBOTS!

Now, as any sane person with the ability to do a risk/reward analysis, you are probably thinking: "That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard to fight giant alien monsters from beyond the veil of time and space."

And you'd be right!

But the movie has enough charm, fun, fast pace, good camera work (it's sad that I need to mention this, you'd think that keeping the camera steady and letting people actually see what is going on would be in Film 101) and sexy Asian chicks and hunky white guys and Idris Elba to make everyone happy.

So, I feel no guilt whatsoever in listing my TOP FIVE ALTERNATE PLANS TO BUILDING GIANT ROBOTS THAT WOULD ALSO BE CHEAPER AND LESS DANGEROUS.

1) Bombs!
Plan: Place conventional ordinance around the rift in enough amount to atomize the giant monsters.
Upsides: Conventional ordinance is really cheap to build - comparatively speaking - and can be set off at remote.
Downside: Ecological damage, no backup in case of failure, possible Tsunamis caused as explosive count goes up in response to Kaiju evolution. 

2) Iris!
Plan: Place a large, thick metal plate over the portal into the other dimension.
Upsides: The monsters will not be able to rematerialized - if the wormhole works in the same way that most theoretical wormholes do - and thus, would be smeared across the cover in a subatomic haze.
Downside: The aliens could just open a portal in a different place.

3) Grinder
Plan: As with Plan 2, but instead of a plate, make it a pair of grinders! GRINDERS!
Upsides: Mulch the monsters as they come out, providing entertainment for everyone involved. Furthermore, recovery of their organs, bones, and such can possibly be enacted.
Downsides: See Plan 2, in addition, salt water corrodes delicate equipment. Even a tough grinder would, eventually, need maintenance and repair, and if it were ever overwhelmed...

4) Guns on Things
Plan: In the film, several of the robots (called Jagers) have projectile weapons mounted on them. Every single time they are used, the guns are quite effective. Take said guns, mount them on smaller platforms, then mass produce said smaller platforms and take down the giant monsters with sheer numbers.
Upside: It is still cheaper than building robots (and, more importantly, building the buildings to house, service and launch the giant robots).
Downsides: Casualties, and as the fight must take place closer to the cities, possibilities of defeat and losing a city are still there.

5) On the other hand...
Plan: SCREW IT, GIANT ROBOTS WOOOOOOOOOO!
Upside: GIANT ROBOTS
Downsides: SCREW YOU, I HAVE GIANT ROBOTS!

Firesticks and Ffffffffffffffffff-

I love Exalted.

And what is not to love? Exalted is a roleplaying game wherein you play reincarnated heroes of an ancient era, fighting to bring back a golden age to a fallen world. It is a game of stark, black and white goods and bads. There actually is some moral grey area here and there, and sometimes, heroes become villains and villains become heroes, but at the end of the day, it is an EPIC in all caps and like fifteen or sixteen exclamation points.

It is a game of swords and ray guns, where you can parry 10,000 mile wide laser beam with a sword, or punch someone so hard that they turn into a sheep.

It is also a game where, for no reason I can determine, almost everyone in the South - one of the four main settings of the game - uses freaking FLAMETHROWERS. You know, the most agonizing, cruel weapon I can possibly imagine is all over the goddamn place. And it's not even used by just the bad guys. There's no evil empire of flame-throwing psychopaths, it's just kind of the style of the time.

And this bothers me. Maybe it is because of a few scenes in a few novels I've read involving people burned by flame-throwers, maybe it is because I have read up on how difficult it is to heal from burns...

But this really bothers me. A sword cut can maim, an arrow can cause horrible agony, and gunshots are not exactly pleasant, but any experienced roleplayer can usually handle them if the GM describes them in the right way.

Nothing can make being burned alive anything but the most torturous, horrific way to go...

And this bugs me enough to make an uninteresting blogpost about it!