Writing Prompt Response: A Demigod's Awakening

Hello, Wanderers.

I know neither of us care about excuses anymore. We're long past that, after only a post last year, which itself almost a year after the previous post. So I won't make any.

I don't even know if there are actual Wanderers out there I'm speaking to. There might only be webcrawlers and indexers reading through pages that I wrote, leaving me only with the illusion that there are human eyes beyond the screen. Is it too late to even care?

I really shouldn't be thinking about it. There are better things to care about.

[WP] You’ve just turned 18 years old and discover you have superpowers. One of your parents admits he/she is a fallen god/goddess punished for a major disagreement with fellow gods. You and your other parent were lied to your entire lives and you’re now speechless. by WolfeS93

I like to think that I'm an avid sci-fi genre reader, having read quite a few series of book more than my peers at school. Then again, most of my classmates don't read books outside the ones assigned by the teachers, the very act of reading a chore for them. I bask in my feeling of superiority, knowing that my peers won't be able to understand what 4th dimension looks like, or what a degenerate matter is, or what retrocausality means.

In reality, I'm just a massive nerd. And I'm wearing it like a badge, as I opened a copy of "Time Riders" in the middle of Math class. It was self-study anyway, the teachers were busy preparing for the Seniors' final exams, so I thought me reading is at least more productive than the other kids gossiping about make ups and sports. I still haven't decided if that was the wisest decision I could've done.

No amount of sci-fi book pages describing how 4th dimension looks like would ever prepare you to the real thing. Words won't be enough to describe the sensation when you saw every single surface, without or within everything, as they swim through both time and space. I screamed as I watched, all at once, the neurons firing and eyeballs turning and muscles contracting all around me. I don't remember vomiting--but I do remember blacking out.

---

When I woke up, a piece of cloth was covering my eyes, tied tight behind my head. The familiar feelings of my bed tells me that I'm back home, the faint chatter with my parents' voice confirmed my suspicion.

"Why have you never told me this? What else haven't you told me? What else is a lie? Was your love a lie?"

"Sweetheart, I did all of this to protect you. Not a single moment of my life spent without agony of keeping this secret from you, but I assure you, it is necessary--"

"Why should I trust you now? After lying to me all this time? You lied on our marriage! You swore an oath to a God you don't even believe!"

"I need you to listen to me. Yes, I lied to you. I lied on that altar. But for the sake of the child--"

"The child, yes. The Allfather would want him to be made an Einherjar." A third foreign voice entered the conversation, a voice without words yet filled with meanings, as if it's projecting images of letters through sound. "He must be killed immediately."

"You're NOT taking him. I swear to my bow and shield that as long as I walk this realm, no forces of Hel or Odin shall claim his soul."

I opened one of my eyes, alternating right and left. The sight of the cloth in 4D space was considerably less nauseating than the classroom full of people, but it still took me some moments to get used to it. A few minutes longer than I would admit, I learned to 'lock' my sight to a piece of 3D 'frame', allowing me to function normally to some extent.

I stood up and prepared myself, before opening the door and walking to the dining room.

"Hi mom, dad." I sat down on a chair, across from my parents. There's no sign for the owner of the third voice, though I honestly won't be surprised if they're just invisible.

"Listen, honey," my mother started to speak, but my father stopped her. Unspoken words are exchanged through their eyes, I'll handle this.

"How much could you see, sweetheart?"

"In three dimension? Not much different than normal, really. In four dimension, however, I think I could see two or three seconds forward and back. Though, the cloth helps a lot, I could barely see the fracture now."

"It's a very special cloth, indeed. Made with fibers collected from my homeland. Now, I know you have a lot of question--"

"You bet I do. Who are you, dad? Why am I suddenly seeing in 4D? How am I supposed to attend school now? Am I being hunted?"

"Your father is someone from a very, peculiar, ancestry. A very noble, and very powerful, ancestry that some of other clans in the older generations fear yet venerate enough to call gods.Though we mostly just call ourselves Vanirs." My dad stood up, turning his back on me.

"I was one of the leaders of the Vanirs. I even sat on their throne, as a king, though the title was more of a curse." He walked over to me, reaching behind me head. I closed my eyes. "Look at me now. Fallen. Humiliated. A foreign enemy sat on my throne, and I hid on faraway land, trembling on fear of even mentioning my own name."

I kept my eyes shut as he removed my blindfold. "It doesn't matter now. Odin saw us, and he heard my mention of his name. I killed one of his messenger, and soon his Valkyries would flock into this very land. Look at me, my son. Open your eyes."

Preparing for the impending nausea, I opened my eyes, only to find my dad clad in golden robes and crown--but otherwise normal in three dimension. My mother was as awestruck as I am at my dad's regal appearance, her mouth shamelessly open.

"I am Ullr, son of Sif. Exiled king of the nine realms, the rightful master of the all-seeing throne of Hlidskjalf." His visage stayed firm in the middle of chaotic four dimensional rendition of reality my brain still can't fully process. A golden quiver strapped on his waist, while a bow was slung over his right shoulder. "I once ruled the nine realms from atop the world tree, and to the silver abode I shall return, ever watchful and vigilant. Fear not, my son. The curses of Hlidskjalf was granted to you, but even before a king I was a hunter. We are hunters."

A dagger, glowing brighter than any gold or silver ever would, appeared in his hands. He knelt in front of me, offering the daggers.

"It's perhaps insolent of me, to ask this from you after lying all this time. After hiding who I am, after hiding who you are, and I would fully understand if I must return to my crusade on my own. But if you have anything beyond contempt, beyond disgust for this liar of a father, I implore you, to join my fight. To hunt those who desecrated your ancestors' palace. To reclaim what was rightfully mine."

I looked at his eyes, and then at my mom's.

"Does that mean I have to drop out of high school?"

"Not a chance."

Scribble 22: Kill the Memes

Hello, Wanderers, and welcome back!

You just have to come back, don't you?

What am I even talking about. Of course you're going to come back. I made sure of it. After all, I am the same, I keep coming back, keep writing and writing and writing--and what worth is a storyteller without a bard to sing his story and peasants and nobles alike to gather and marvel at his story?

Nothing.

So you have to come back. So that I will have a meaning in this endlessness. In this vast void merely filled by words unspoken but by this humble storyteller--by the worlds unremembered but by this mere Wanderer.

We're the same. So keep reading, fellow Wanderers, my tale woven in my very essence is waiting for your hungry eyes.

Scribble 22: Kill the Memes

Huygens hadn't even entered the bar, but already he could feel nausea filling his stomach.

Every once in a blue moon, the bar with bright red neon lamp spelling "Gunther's" could make a breakthrough in alcoholic cocktail--but then again a broken clock is right twice a day. Most of the time, their innovative thinking produced something that's barely not violating the international treaties on chemical weapon. Fooled by the first drink that he tried, Huygens agreed to try their new drinks every couple of weeks, but he quickly realized that the world isn't always butterflies and roses.

He did give them his honest opinion, shitty drinks are shitty, but he found himself unable to stop coming back, despite regretting every second he spent under the drinks' effects.

"It's probably memetic or something." Grimacing to himself, Huygens entered the bar, opening the double door with both hands.

"Huygens, my man!" The bartender proclaimed loudly as Huygens approached him.

"What's up?" Keeping his fear to himself, Huygens offered the bartender a high five, which he graciously responded to.

"A new drink, that's what!"

"Listen, after your last one, I honestly don't know if I want another of those..."

"Ah, I would agree that the sweet green beans brew was a bit of failure--"

"A bit?! That thing broke my stomach so bad I can't eat anything but porridge for three days!"

"Look, I'm sorry about that one. I did fix it, and I got no complaint after that--"

"You sure it's not because they're too busy screaming in pain at the hospital?"

"Wow boys, what do we have here?" A woman interrupted them just as Huygens got ready to throw his punch. He sighed, and unfurled his fist. "Didn't know you come here often, Huygens."

"It's a surprise to see you too, Doctor Robinson."

"Please, just call me Vanessa outside of work. Gunther, why don't you get the two of us some whiskey?"

"Got it."

"You could call me Rick then, if you don't mind."

"Nah, I know about a dozen Rick, I'll stick with Huygens. So, what's this sweet green beans business about?"

"I really don't want to talk about that." Gunther started to say something as he placed down their drinks, but someone called him from the other side of the bar.

"Well, then what do you want to talk about?" Before he realized, Vanessa already sat on the bar stool, toying with the whiskey glass. He awkwardly sat on the neighboring stool. "Surely you have some pick up lines, at least."

"Huh, Vanessa, how much drink did you have?"

"The night's young, I only had four or five. Why'd you ask?"

"No, nothing."

"Huh. I expected it to be a pretext for some cheesy pick up lines, but it's not? That got 2 out of ten." The awkward silence, mixed with the background music and crowd noise weighs into Huygens' mind. He decided to down his drink and just leave when Vanessa started saying something.

"Don't you think SNS are annoying?" She waved at Gunther, who gave Huygens a round of vodka.

"What do you mean?" Huygens' PDW suddenly felt very heavy in his jacket.

"It's bad enough when people made a cult out of radio and television broadcast. Now they could make it through internet, and these communities made it nigh-impossible to determine whether people actually worship a particular image of cat or it's just a 'viral memes'." Vanessa sipped at her whiskey. "The word 'memes' just gets more and more meaningless by the day."

"Vanessa, we can't discuss classified--"

"I know, I know. Geez. I'm talking as an old woman complaining about younglings' trends, not as a doctor. You're no fun at all. Gunther!" The bartender happily refilled her glass. "It's just that...these memes, man. They're driving me crazy."

"Tell me about it. The youngsters are always weird by their elder's standard."

"I know right? Though, I guess realizing that you're getting old is just as depressing as trying to make sense of those memes." The two of them sighed in unison, before breaking into laughter. Huygens could feel his blood racing through his body, warmed by the alcohol.

"Some of them do exhibit properties consistent with traditional memes." It was five whiskey and three vodka later that Vanessa started speaking about alarming topics, but Huygens was no longer sober enough to stop her. "A pattern, inherited in every iteration that grows into independent individuals, you get what I mean?"

"I don't think so, no." Though apparently his mind still worked well enough to know it's better for him to leave. "I think I'm drunk enough. I have to leave before I got too drunk to go home."

"Oh come on, am I that boring? I thought we're hitting it up pretty well."

"No, it's not that. I really have to go." Huygens paid his bill, and then started walking towards the door. Vanessa tried to follow after him, but the alcohol was affecting her more than she thought. She tangled her feet to the bar stool, and fell to the floor, causing a commotion that took Huygens' attention back on her.

"Hey, are you alright? Doctor? Hey, Gunther, get us an ambulance or something!"

Gunther looked over from across the bar, and with unchanging deadpan face, he asked:

"Is this Loss?"


Two ambulances were seen leaving Gunther's Bar that night.

And that is the last drop of my soul spilt.

Writing Prompt Response: A Dragon's Diary

Yo, Wanderers.

Another one of these, well, I had no excuse. I actually have several ideas in my head, those kind of passing thought when you're lying in your bed thinking why people sent a dog to space instead of cats...

Wait, we have no time for this.

So I decided to write these in a lazy Monday morning, two days ago, actually. I've written a similar thing long time ago, about an unlikely romance involving a dragon, but while this isn't a masterpiece, this is arguably better than my previous one.

Enjoy the ride.

[WP] The diary entries of a Dragon who is in love with the knight trying to slay them. by CerinLevel3

17/5/111

He came again, in his shining full-body armor, no trace of the previous battles remained in his person. Somehow, I've gotten used to the battle, eagerly waiting when he would come with his glistening holy sword, and then drove him back, scorching fire against blinding light, divine sword against pitch black claw.

Thank gods no human ever know what a dragon's smile looks like.

18/5/111

HE BROUGHT A COMPANION! How dare he! That coward, bringing a woman, no, a witch into my presence? And he fervently protected her! Like, he hadn't let my claws touch her even once! Uuuh...

What? No, it's not that I'm... Now that I think about it, why am I so bothered that he bought a woman with him? I mean, he had brought several wizards and archers before, and I have seen him fought harder when he had companions, never allowing me to touch them. They never bothered me this much, not even when he brought an elite team bearing the human empire's insignia.

I don't know. Little fireflies, could you tell me?

21/5/111

Three days in a row, he brought the same damned witch. They worked closer together, and I could swear I saw their eyes flirting in the midst of the battle. They flirted. In front of me.

He even smiled at her. He never smiled when he fought me, especially because he couldn't afford to. But he smiled at her. Did he trusted her so much that he lowered his guard around her? Even while facing me?

She will pay.

23/5/111

He didn't come today. The human city is mourning, one of their greatest mage died ironically when she tried to summon fire for an oil lamp. The brightest mind humanity had to offer, and she died channeling a simple spell.

Of course, it helps that I have an Ifrit in my ranks.

For the first time in my life, I laughed so loud I shook the mountain cavern.

She's gone.

Now he would only see me in his eyes.

24/5/111

He came alone, downcast. He asked me with cold voice if I know what happened in the human city. Well, I had my sources, and I had several demons infiltrating the human rank, one of which I sent to monitor him in human society...

Why did I do that? Reading back, I've been writing about nothing but him for the past weeks. I even sent a demon to spy on him, and I even killed his companion the mage. Am I seriously jealous at a mere human?

Anyway, I told him the truth, because I can't lie at him, right? Why can't I lie to him?

Why. It was an overrated question. How is a more interesting one.

He became enraged, throwing his helmet away, swinging his sword with power I never saw before. Naturally, I swatted him away.

Apparently, I've killed his sister.

He can't hear my apology.

25/5/111

He succeeded. His holy sword sticking through my body, pulverizing my heart. Well, one of them anyway, but my auxiliary hearts can't sustain me for more than two century. In a way, it was his victory, as well as his loss.

When he succeeded in almost killing me, I was utterly successful in killing him, splitting his body into two equal part.

And I cried.

Why is it at the last moment that I realize--

Why is it after I lost him--

Why can't it be earlier--

The reason of my actions, my jealousy, my anger, my expectations--

I told him that I loved him. I don't know if he could hear me.

Death can't come soon enough.

Writing Prompt Response : "It's killing me that I won't get to hear your laughter anymore."

Yo there, Wanderers!

Well, I have no excuse for not posting anything last month... And pulling this kind of post, especially when it's a few months old story, is kinda unforgivable as well, so I'll make sure that I made up for that with another Scribble down the line...

If I ever remember, that is.

This story is a short one I wrote seven months ago in Reddit. The original story could be found here, but you could simply read the one posted here.

The Story shall now begin.

"It's killing me that I won't get to hear your laughter anymore."

I can't help but think that doctors are very arrogant people, using overly complicated words to describe a really simple occurrence, as if it would reduce my pain if I don't understand what they're talking about. But it didn't, not a little bit.

I can't even spell the medical name for it, but my condition could be described as "inability to filter out unnecessary information". In other words, I treat all and every information received by my sensory perception as equal, overloading my sensory functions over the time. It was a miracle that I could live this long until my brain gave up processing all those information.

Every surface on the room where I was being held was oddly white, no unequal light reflection, messing with my depth perception. I didn't even know how they illuminate everything so perfectly, that even the door is practically invisible. The doctor said it was necessary to minimize my sensory feedback, I can't even listen to my own heartbeat.

The door opened twice a day, sometimes thrice, with occasional visitors in between. It's usually just the doctor though, slowly letting me develop ability to focus on information I really need to know by manually eliminating everything else. But it was of no use. Slowly, my brain can't keep up with the deluge of information, and starting with my sight, my senses began to fade.

On my first year of hospitalization, everyone in my class came to see me once a week, one by one. By the second year, everyone had been busy with final exam preparation, and so no one save my parents came to see me.

Oh, and a girl. Of course it had to be a girl.

Lina was a sweet girl, if a tad timid, and I don't hate her at all. We talked about a lot of things, casual girls' talk, sometimes we even talked about the lesson's progression. Around the end of August, my sight had given up entirely, and my hearing was a bit compromised, but she never gave up.

I was really frustrated. But each week, she came and talked with me, even when the final exam came and went. She said she wanted to be a doctor, and she even said that was so she could find a cure for me.

But it was too late. By March the next year, my hearing gave up entirely, shutting me down from outside world. Even then, she never gave up. She taught me the Braille alphabet, and even brought me books.

"You know," I said one day, when the hot air of summer had started to replace the warm spring. She instinctively hold my hands. "if there is a single greatest reason I hadn't given up until now, it was because of you." a piece of paper slipped on my hands, embossed with braille alphabet from a Perkins Brailler.

[You made me blush.] I chuckled.

"Listen. I know you don't like me to talk all depressed, but while I still able to talk, I want to get everything out of my chest." another piece of paper slipped on my hand.

[Not that you have much of it. Your chest, that is.]

"How rude." I pouted. "That aside, thanks for being here, Lina. When everyone had moved on, when everyone had forgotten about me. To be honest, I could live without them. I could live like this, blind and deaf, if it's a life I could live with you, then I don't need anything else."

[Me too, I don't need much else if you're here by my side.]

"But you know, I'm afraid that this kind of life wouldn't last long."

[Why would you think like that?]

"My senses are fading, Lina. It is not long until my tactile sense would also give up. Eventually, I would run out of senses to even acknowledge your presence."

[Then I would just try harder.]

"It doesn't work that way. You know, most people would grow crazy if they can't see and can't hear. But I don't care. I'm not afraid. Because you're here."

[And I always will.]

"I know. But I'm dying, Lina, and not only because my illness. Would you like to know why?"

[Please, if it's something I could get rid of.]

"It's because you never really laughed around me. You smiled, of course, and sometimes even chuckled at my lame jokes, but you never laughed, not since I lost my sight. And, and it's killing me, Lina, as my ears gave up, the thought that you never laughed, and never will, not any that I could listen." something soft and moist pressed against my forehead, it took me a few seconds to realize it was her lips.

[I'm sorry, Ana. I never knew.]

"It's fine. I love you, Lina. I really do. And that means I want you to be happy, even when I'm not here anymore."

[I love you too. Please don't say that. We'll be together, for the rest of our life.]

"I wonder. But promise me, that you would give up on me when the time comes."

[But why?]

"Why, indeed. A life with a corpse cannot be a happy one, Lina. When I lost all my senses, I would be a little more than a corpse."

[I don't care] her hands trembled on mine.

"But I do. Please let me at least die knowing you would find someone you could be happy with."

[But you're that person]

"No, I'm not that person, I can't be that person. Please, Lina. Promise me that you would."

[I would rather die with you]

"But you must've known by now that there are things in life you should do even when you rather not to." she did nothing for the next few minutes, other than holding my hands even tighter.

[Fine] she left right after. But she still came the next week, and the weeks after, alone.

Even when I pushed her away, she keeps pulling me back.

Would she find someone, somewhere, who would do the same to her?

The Story shall now end

Scribble 19: Imitative Laplace Projection

Hello fellow Wanderers! As promised, this is the third/second part of the Renegade Covert Director series, depending on which one is the first story you read. Sadly though, this would not be the last installment of the series, as I couldn’t cram the final battle here.

Sorry it took so long, real life interfered a bit, although I doubt that anyone actually waiting for this :p.

As you would see, I wrote the perspective of Red/Seventh and Yellow in different font, which is Georgia for Yellow, as Yellow was an agent of UNSED, and Arial for Red/Seventh, which was an agent from Covert.

Would you join me for the ride?

The Scribble will now begin.

Scribble 19: Imitative Laplace Projection

I skillfully maneuvered the Karapace fighter through proton mines, courtesy of Deneb Confederation from the siege of Procyon-SX-180 colony. Really, that Confederation gives me problem even after collapsing.

Procyon-SX-180 is evacuated right before the proton mines were deployed, several that can't make it dies from starvation or insanity. In the end, the war ended without any of the proton mines exploded, which made both exploring the ruins of Procyon-SX-180 and risking being the first victim of the old mines more unappealing than normal deserted colonies.

I chuckled, gaining attention from Red. Oh, wait, she's supposed to be Seventh now, denoted by numbers instead of colors. Oh, how time changes. When we're together in the Colors, she was always the most emotionally unstable, swinging from homicidal impulse one second and affectionate compassion next.

"Yellow, your inner thought leaked out again."

"No, that was intentional." I landed my fighter on the hangar. "There we go. What should we expect?"

"Standard Covert guard, I think. My ID is still valid, the renegade Director can't touch anything that it don't have. This colony belongs to a fellow Director, which had lent me one of the stuff stored here."

"So, this is just an escort mission?"

"Yeah, you can't exactly barge in to kill Covert Director with normal 9 mm."

"Is this asset, uh, Remniscient?"

"Holy Crayfish, Yellow, just sit tight and let me do my job."

"How could Covert took over this colony anyway? This colony was abandoned years ago, before even the War."

"Wasn't it the real reason why Covert took it over? This is perfect base, finely defended, owned by no one, and visited by no one, not even monthly maintenance check. This is the last place UNSED would look for us, and it's right behind their backyard." Seventh stepped down from the fighter, leaving me alone. The woman swiped her card on a panel, and a section of the wall lifted up several meters, showing the bustling city filled with both researchers in white coat and special operatives in black tactical suits alike.

"I'll get you another ship too, another more suited for Covert operation. But for now just wait in the ship."

"Hey, I like my Karapace, and I hate calibrating my orbital sniper."

"No. Just no. Sit tight and let me choose the best for you."

I sighed, and decided to just sleep.

---

I walked through the busy downtown, this is pretty big for a Covert facility, maybe around 5,000 inhabitants? Not even all my facilities combined would be this big.

Not that my facility was much of one. I just have a handful of warehouses filled with skeleton crew ready to deploy if I ever need them, plus several APCs and Exo-suits. If this is a normal assassination I wouldn’t even have to step out from my safe house, the closest warehouse should be enough.

I stood in front of a building marked with small holographic plaque “Remniscient Containment Division Site-93”.

“This better be the one.” I muttered, entering the building.

“Identity, please?” a computerized female voice greeted me.

“Seventh.”

“Hypnos pattern identification complete. Welcome, Director, how may I help you? ”

“Lead me to Apollo-Delta-Aleph.”

“With pleasure. Please follow the blue light.” A line lit up in the wall, guiding my path through the labyrinthine hallways.

I walked through several containment cages when suddenly alarm blared in the hallway, along with red light. “Warning, hostile forces identified as Yellow Hallway is detected surrounding Proton Farm, evacuation advised.”

Yellow Hallway? Is Fifth trying to revive Colors or something?

I raced through the hallway, to a living quarter designated Apollo-Delta-Aleph. I forcefully broke through the steel door with my fist.

“Who are you?” the boy asked, his long gray hair obscured his face, his atrophied body curled in the corner of the cold concrete cell. How old is he? He looked even younger than Blue when he first joined Colors, and yet he exuded aura as if he is as old as time and as vast as space itself.

Which, considering his power, might not be so far from truth.

“I’m Seventh. I need your help. Let’s go.” The sharp red eyes, unlike Fifth’s dull, lifeless eyes, glanced at me suspiciously.

“Bullshit. Even if you did need my help, I have no obligation to obey any commands other than from Third.”

“Oh, I have his permission already.”

“Who cares? I’m not leaving.”

“Warning, fifteen Proton Mines in collision course with RRD-3-15, ETA 15 minutes until impact.”

“Yellow!” I yelled to my communicator.

“I’m holding up as much as I can, but these second-rate imitations are too many. You got 30 minutes, 35 tops, to get on your car and run.”

“Is… is that the real Yellow? The one from Colors that once assassinated a major in his underground shelter from orbit?”

“One and only baby. I could finish them all, but not without annihilating you in the process. Now get moving!”

“You hear that boy? Now let’s get moving!” the boy clicked his tongue as he went up and swiftly run on my side down the hallway, exiting the building and rushing straight into the hangar, entering standard Covert-issue Aslekfar-889 spaceship at the same time as fifteen other pilots.

“Please insert startup key.”

“Director Override. Seventh.”

“Hypnos pattern identification complete. Starting engine.”

“Yellow, fifteen Aslekfar-889 will be joining the battle. Meet me in Vega-Green-99 ASAP. Seventh out.”

I mapped the ship computer to warp into an empty star system, and activated the engine immediately. A cracking sound could be heard reverberating as the reality itself was strained from the paradox caused by the warp engine.

“Let’s get this over with.” with a deafening roar, the ship disappeared from the colony hangar.

We sat in silence for several hours as the ship moved irregularly through warp space, until the boy suddenly approached me.

“In the hangar, you called me ‘boy’”

“Excuse me? In case you didn’t notice, I’m trying to fold a space-time origami right now, so you better off taking your teenage angst somewhere else.”

“I’m a girl.” I stopped fiddling with warp drive control and stared straight to his, no, apparently her eyes.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m a girl.”

“And I’m an UNSED Star Supervisor. You’re clearly a boy.”

“I’m a—look, you’re a Covert Director. It’s practically impossible to lie to you, even with my power.”

“You’re not lying… no, of course you’re not. Even if I were to check your body right now you could basically turn yourself into a boy or a girl at will by changing the stable point of reality.”

“I’ve never been a boy, you insolent old hag.”

“Okay, first off, you’re the insolent one. Second, I’m pretty sure I’m still the youngest living Covert Directors. Just drop it, geez.” I turned my attention back to the navigator.

“Thank you.” a whisper, almost inaudible, escaped her lips. But I said nothing.

Instead, I continued fiddling with the control for the warp drive.

---

Six hundred and seventy six. That’s the number of ships dispatched by the so-called “Yellow Hallway”. I tasked the fifteen Covert pilots to divert the paths of the Proton mines as I shot down every last one of the Yellow Hallway ships.

But of course I hit one of the mines myself and have to float around in a life pod.

“Hey, I’ll let you keep me as a prisoner, so pick me up already.” I yelled to the comm, set into Covert’s frequency.

“Unfortunately, unless you’re a Remniscient, we cannot bring you in without our Director’s authorization.”

“I got Seventh’s authorization, you saw me dropping her few hours ago!”

“This is not Seventh’s facility. Now sit tight, and wait until our Director decide what to do with your desiccated corpse.”

“I don’t have time for this!”

“Neither do we!” a click could be heard, signifying end of conversation.

Now what?

I could use my miniature pocket space generator to envelope this capsule and transported myself to the rendezvous point, but as smart as I am with numbers, the highly unpredictable space made it impossible even for me to make a jump between stars without computers.

As I contemplated various way to explode my oxygen tank and launch me to the colony, a buzzing sound echoed from the capsule’s comm module. I thought it was the life support warning, but then a clump of black material emerged from the corner.

“Identify yourself.” I grabbed my Taser and pointed it to the black clump that become increasingly humanoid.

“You forgot me already?” a makeshift mouth appeared, before a full face emerged on the thing’s head.

“Blue.” I was surprised, but my training kicked in and my head cooled down.

“Third Covert Director at your service, Yellow.” His feature became clearer. I see, it made sense now why she could leisurely walked into this facility despite not being the owner, and the enmity between Covert Council members.

“This is what you do now? Imprisoning kid and using them as weapon?” I ran a scan from my Karapace before, this colony was filled with thousands of prisons filled with children, all with Remniscience wavelength emanating from them.

“That was what UNSED have done to me, to us! I merely gave them new home, picking them from fringe colonies, lost, hungry, alone. I gave them families.”

“Families that they once lost because of you! You even…!” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath “Does Red know?”

“That gullible girl? No, no, why would I told her? She killed me, she killed us all, once. She deserves this.” His eyes glowed with anger “But I have to thank her. Without her, I wouldn’t reach this plane of existence, gaining limited, but definite, access to the multiverse and Boltzmann simulacrum itself… but I digress.”

“What nonsense are you spouting, did you caught something weird in the afterworld?”

“When I think about it, to be able to fully recover after dying once, you’re the most abnormal of us Colors, even in our current state of being.”

“Or maybe I’m the sanest of us all. What do you want from me now? I’d kill myself if you told me to, so you don’t have to do it yourself.”

“No, no, I still have a use for you. Red still have use for you. I’ll give you a fighter, are you fine with Aslekfar 700?” it’s hard to detect his emotion while he was all dark and shadowy, but the way he said Red was somewhat nostalgic and lonely.

Or maybe I’m just projecting myself. I love her, after all, just like this fellow before his death.

“…you’re not seriously giving me that ancient stuff, are you?”

“Well I could just peel this capsule open and let you desiccate while fully conscious, so…”

“Fine, I’ll take it. Now let me land!”

“You’re already there, Yellow.” He laughed as his form dispersed, his voice echoed inside my mind even as his shape disappeared completely. My surrounding undulated and spontaneously changed into what I recognize as standard Covert cockpit.

“Show offs.” I smirked “This better be fun.”

The Scribble will now ends.

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See you in the next scribble, where everything is supposed to end ;)