N. T. Lazer

"I think I got something!" I yelled over my shoulder.

"What did you find?" Jkalp came to my side.

"If I run my finger along the rim of this one, it makes noise. Not the sound of my finger on it, but another, unnatural noise from the disk."

"Interesting," Jklap nodded, "but that doesn't seem like the intended use. If we use the pictures we found, we can conclude that humans don't have sharp fingers."

I frowned in thought. "Yeah, you're right," I agreed. Stupid to think they would send a noisy disk to us.

"Keep at it, you'll figure it out," he said, knocking on the desk once with confidence.

I breathed over it, checking its aerodynamics with one of my glands. Woah.

"Wait, Jkalp!" I called back to him. He turned expectantly. "Catch!" I yelled and spun it at him in the air. He shrieked and yelled,

"Have you lost your--" then stopped when he caught it in his hands. He smiled devilishly. "That was really cool. Can I try?"

I nodded and he spun it back at me, it soared in the air for longer than gravity would normally permit before falling into my hands.

"They seem to have made some sort of flying disk! It glides in the air!" I tossed it back to him. He caught it giddily.

"What a marvelous invention! I genuinely believed that they would be another species that goes to war with itself but this..." he tossed it back, hopping up and down as it flew to me, "They must enjoy their time with one another all the time!"

"Yes, and the color is quite--" I yelped as it slipped from my grasp. It crashed, exploding against the wall into a hundred little pieces. All the pieces fell ceremoniously as the colors gleamed along the walls washing it in a mesmerizing waterfall of gold.

"I can't believe I just did that..." I whispered.

"Don't beat yourself up, it was a toy from their planet! We got the fun out of it, so it must have been worthless otherwise."

I smiled at his confidence,

Henry Francis looked around corners of the facility, microphone hovering beneath his chin as his cameraman, Linus Germain, followed close behind while gathering as much footage of various areas of the building.

"And right through here is where we keep the chickens," Wren Iron of Iron's Killer Chicken announced, opening the doors wide.

Linus stepped forward to get a better shot as Henry approached Wren with the microphone, a slew of questions already prepared.

"How many chickens would you say are here?" Francis asked, surveying the scene to get the gist of a headcount.

"Last we checked, it's a solid 700 in this facility," Wren summed up.

"And what are they fed?" Henry asked.

"Mostly feed, a steady stream of water with some medicinal properties, and whatever else they can get their claws on," Wren answered honestly.

"Whatever else they can get their claws on," Henry repeated skeptically, watching as the chickens roamed aimlessly in their pens, nothing of note that could be found. "Does the feed include anything... unorthodox?"

"I can't say our strict diet is anything out of the ordinary, so far as I can tell. Would that be the answer to why their eggs taste so good?" Wren asked, interested.

"Errrm, perhaps. We should really keep looking around to find out," Henry answered.

"Sure, sure, take all the time you need, I can let you in with them if you'd like. But not too long, you hear?" Wren said, gesturing to the door to the large pen.

"That'd be great," Henry said agreeably.

Wren opened the door for them but remained on the outside while both reporters excitedly hurried within, the chickens giving them a wide berth as they clucked at the intruders.

"Anything?" Henry said to Linus above the cacophony of chickens, making sure he was out of earshot of Wren.

"Nothing special," Linus shrugged, replying loudly. "There might be some evidence near the feeding areas, mixing things in or something like that, but I can't find anything out of the ordinary in here."

"Hmm, let's go check the food for evidence. Or see if there's any discoloration in their waste. He seems really keen to not have us in here very long, so there's probably some evidence around here," Henry said, increasing the volume of his voice further as they went deeper within the chicken's pen.

Henry and Linus were in search of a story to find out what was happening to the several missing persons cases that seemed to stem from Iron's Killer Chicken. Henry had the sneaking suspicion that Wren was a murderer, and fed his victims to chickens to get rid of the evidence. He had a gun tucked away in the back of his pants and often took glances at Wren. Wren was under the impression they were doing a story on why the eggs tasted so good. He was curious himself, knowing nothing of his chickens except that they were delicious manifestations of evil that clucked.

"Hey! You best get outta there!" Wren screamed over the chickens, his voice tight.

"I think we're heading the right way," Henry winked to Linus and waved to Wren, pretending he couldn't hear him by pointing to his ear. "Try that corner!"

"What?" Linus asked, going closer to Henry to hear, feathers fluttering around them.

"That corner!" Henry yelled.

Linus nodded and knelt down, not noticing the chickens gradually closing the distance as he zoomed in on a dark patch on the floor.

"You... feed... please!" Wren screamed, waving frantically, but only every other word could be heard over the chickens now.

"I can't hear you!" Henry answered honestly, the roar of chickens drowning out the noise. Henry was smiling to himself, confident that the story was somewhere around the spot Linus was standing.

"You find anything?" Henry asked, looking back to his cameraman. He was shocked to see Linus was not in the corner. He blinked in surprise and looked around the pen to see if he was examining a more interesting area. But he somehow couldn't find him.

"Linus?" Henry called, but could no longer hear his own voice as he nudged chickens out of the way to go to the corner he last saw Linus standing.

"Back off!" Henry shouted as a few chickens jumped to peck at the rear of his pants.

His voice caught in his throat when he saw that there was nothing but a severed hand gripping Linus's camera. Henry shrieked and immediately went for his gun, only to grasp at empty air behind him. He patted the back of his pants in a panic until he soon felt the large hole that had been made in his pants. He spun around to see a small group of chickens looking up at him with patches of his pants in their beaks. One was scuttling away with his gun in his beak. Henry stared in shock, then yelped as a dozen pricks shot through his achilles tendon, several chickens striking from behind to take him down. As he fell, he tried to look up to see what Wren was doing but fell far too fast to catch a glimpse.

"As you can see guys, I have just summoned Natreth, Demon of Mayhem and Terror. If you haven't already, you should start following my channel, trying to hit a goal of $10,000 a day from tips, and all of your donations really--"

A white orb came from the poor fool's mouth, effectively blocking his ability to speak. His eyes went bloodshot as he desperately grasped at his chest. He tried to let out a scream, but the body does not accept the order of that of which there is no soul. I moved my fingers seductively, calling to his soul. All he could do was twitch his head, a slight infinitesimal shake, begging me not to continue. I breathed in deeply, absorbing his soul. All in a day's work.

I looked around his sloppy room, posters strewn across the wall, an incredibly comfy-looking chair, and a computer with multiple monitors. One of the monitors was flashing wildly. Another showed a room in which a demon was-- Oh. Another showed me on screen in his room. I took a closer look at his setup.

Thousands upon thousands of comments were being added to a chat on one side. Fast as they were moving, I was able to discern one word show up more often than any other: Fake.

"Hmm," I muttered.

His subscriber count was climbing rapidly and he got thousands of dollars in donations, all within the span of me standing in front of the screen. I looked around the screen and found his username plastered on multiple corners.

"Bingo It's Ringo?" I asked no one in particular. Pretty sad name. I looked at the corpse on the floor, its fingers slightly twitching after its soul's untimely removal. I looked directly at the camera. I wanted to say something clever. Something to spook the viewers, and make them believe that it was actually real. While I pondered, I was sucked away from the room.

I had never been re-summoned so soon. I towered before a young man who was screaming,

"AHH!! DUDES!! DUDES!! IT ACTUALLY WORKED! I SWEAR THIS ISN'T FAKE! I SUMMONED NATRETH! WHAT DO I--" his voice caught on his soul as I tore it out of him. I wasn't nearly as gentle with him and his eyes exploded on removal. His body twitched vigorously on the floor. I looked at the camera as I felt the inspiration come over me,

"Guess that's why they call it Twitch."

Again, the chat exploded in response. I began to wonder how I was summoned to two people's houses so soon. There had never been less than a two-week gap. Perhaps my book of dark summoning had made its way as a PDF on--

"AHHHHHH!!!! I DIDN'T THINK IT WOULD WOR--" I tore off the streamer's head, not being nearly patient enough with having had her summon me so soon. Her blood soaked her camera, covering whatever results she had on stream. This was bad. Each steamer must have seen the original stream and was using the same summoning incantation as BingoItsRingo. If they continued at this rate, I could be--

"Oh my God. Bros, he's actually--" before I could slice his heart out, I was summoned again.

"WOOAAAHHH!! Ok, babes--" and then summoned again.

"Look at the size of this guy, guys he's--" and again.

"He's really real!!"

I looked around this boy's room maniacally. He couldn't have been older than 18. I quickly pulled out his soul and searched for a way out. I had to shut off my summoning somehow. If two people--

Before I could finish the thought, it happened.

I was summoned to two places simultaneously. My body was ripped apart, each half going to a different location. On arrival, I crashed onto a streamer's waterbed. I was nothing but my head and shoulders.

"Whoa. Sick," the streamer said, scooting his chair back a couple of inches. In the last moments of my life, I witnessed the end of his stream as well.

I took a bold step into the abandoned city, evidence of it having been eroded by winds for years before we took on the journey to lay eyes upon it. Percy, my guide, dragged himself behind me exhausted by the long days and restless nights spent on the road, the jiggling of coins in my pocket keeping him moving forward. As soon as the dust settled around my first valiant step within, we surveyed the area to ensure there were no miscreants that had made this place a home of their own, intending to ambush us at the first opportunity.

"Hello!" I called within, Percy waiting tensely for a reply.

None came. That brought him little comfort.

"Well, there it is in all its... splendor," Percy said quickly, flinching as another chunk of the building closest to us chipped off. "The Lost City of Zagan. Are you satisfied?"

"Very much so!" I said, nodding to myself impressively. "You have my thanks."

"I did not do this for your thanks," Percy reminded me, his eyes weighing heavily on my coin purse.

"Ah, indeed," I said, absentmindedly putting my hand within and pulling out a handful much larger than the agreed-upon price, dropping it in his hands without looking away from the city's tall, aged visage. Percy gasped audibly, gathering the few coins that spilled over into the ground. I pulled out my sword and Percy yelped, jumping away from me and spilling more coins.

"What is this? You intend to rob me after you paid me! I knew I never should have trusted you!" Percy hissed, gathering himself over his payment and glaring at me intensely.

I finally looked his way, my eyebrows folding together as I clicked my tongue in distaste.

"The blade is not for your skin, but for mine," I announced.

His face jumped between bafflement and betrayal half a dozen times before settling on simple confusion, his eye twitching as his head turned to one side.

"How do you mean?" Percy asked carefully.

I simply demonstrated, pulling a fraction of the blade across the tip of my little finger and letting the open cut spill onto the floor. Percy continued to stare before a realization came to mind.

"You seek magic here? Do you believe the City of Zagan holds an Elemental? Had that been the case this city would have been visited years ago in search of its power! No one has crossed onto this side of the desert in ages!" Percy said, stunned.

"Yes, but they had not visited the Library Beneath the Walls. It made mention of an Elemental that destroyed the once grand City of Zagon. I am under the impression that the same Elemental never left once it had succeeded in eradicating its new home of the former residents," I explained.

Percy looked out at the still-empty city, then back to me, his face scrunched.

"That sounds..." he looked down at the money in his hands and measured his words. "A bit farfetched?"

"Perhaps, but this was the only Elemental I have the ability to visit. Others are in raging waters or in lands of wind so powerful it is difficult to breathe. This one is simply hidden away," I answered.

"In a desert in the middle of nowhere," Percy grumbled, pocketing the money. "How will you know if it is working?"

"I already do. Just look!" I laughed, elated. The moment the drops of blood made contact with the ground, the sand absorbed it hungrily, not leaving as much as wet darkness in the earth. Percy looked closer and raised his eyebrows, looking up to meet my smile. His face finally changed to that of interest.

"How long do you have to wait?" he asked, looking out at the city to watch for changes.

"The legends say that the way to magic is to continue to give blood until the Elemental appears. Then you may ask for its challenge to learn its magic," I replied confidently.

That confidence was short-lived. We stood waiting until the shade of the city shifted away from us and we began walking under it, following it like a giant sundial to protect us from the harsh rays of the desert sun. But no matter where my blood dropped, it was immediately absorbed. This went on for at least an hour, during which I had to reopen the wound a good five times to ensure I continued to supply blood in the meantime. Percy winced at me as I squeezed at my little finger.

"How much blood does this require?" Percy finally asked, his earlier interest having waned drastically.

"I have not the slightest inkling," I replied exasperated. "Perhaps swaths more."

Percy gasped as I ran the sword against my left hand, allowing it to run freely. The earth continued to swallow the increased flow of blood as soon as it made contact. Percy watched with wide eyes as I continued to stare into the city. What was taking so long? Had I done the summoning wrong?

"Elemental! I am here for you!" I called, not having considered that before. No response.

"We seek your magic!" Percy called, much louder than me. His voice echoed back impressively, but otherwise, we were not met with any otherworldly response.

The blood-letting into the sand continued until I began to blink harder to keep myself upright. The world felt cold, even though I struggled to keep up with the shade provided by the buildings. Percy looked at me with more concern.

"That is a lot of blood you've lost," he pointed out. "Perhaps you should stop and regain some energy before continuing?"

"I do not wish to lose any of the progress made. It is close, I can feel it!" I insisted, my vision going blurry.

At last, after a whole of two hours, I could no longer stand up straight. I toppled backward and breathed heavily, my lungs fatigued.

"I cannot continue, Percy. I cannot stand," I finally accepted, my eyes closed in pain. "I must stop for the night."

Percy did not reply. I opened my eyes and looked at him, witnessing his face had gone pale as he stared upward. I followed his gaze and gasped at the robed creature floating above us, its face shrouded in a dark hood.

"Elemental?" I asked. It shifted toward me, answering my call.

"We should not ask its challenge," Percy said, pulling out bandages to cover my open wounds. "You will perish!"

"I can always refuse and return another day," I said, familiar with how these Elementals offered magic to others in the wild. "What is your challenge?" I asked, feeling ready for anything it might have despite my lack of energy, holding onto the bandage Percy offered.

Even without being able to see anything beyond the hood, I felt it sneer. I shivered.

"If you do not accomplish my challenge at this moment, you will not be given a second chance. That is the way of Zagan. To win my magic, you must simply continue to supply me with this flow of blood for another ten minutes," it answered, its voice like an ice storm against a glass pane.

"You'll die!" Percy protested as I stared hard at the bandage in my good hand, the other still bleeding.

"There is no second chance. Ten minutes is not so long," I said, my voice weak as I dropped the bandage.

I can't believe I made it this far... Just one more ad and I would never have to watch a YouTube ad ever again. My head was throbbing, I had gone through a 24-hour cycle of ads just so I could complete it all at once, even pulling out the YouTube app every time I went to the bathroom. I clicked on the next one, eyes strained. They would turn off anytime you closed your eyes longer than a blink or turned your head away.

"Has this ever happened to you?" asked an overly excited voice, a black and white screen showing a woman cooking something in a pan on screen. Suddenly, the pan melted on the stove-top and the woman looked no more than slightly peeved at the inconvenience. She looked at the screen with a disappointed look and nodded.

"Well, no more with the pan-omyte! A pan that has no melting point!!" It then went through its typical runs of additional features that the pan had and how it could probably raise your kids and save your marriage, given the opportunity.

"Order now!!" The screen went black. The end of the ads. The end of it all. I'd successfully been through all of them. A tear formed at the corner of my eye as I had finally traversed the slew of movie trailers, clothing outlets, bad infomercials, and everything in between. I was about to click to watch my first video, when my screen blinked for a moment and loaded another ad.

My win wasn't solidified yet, I guess. There was a constant stream of ads being added to the site as I sat threw them for the past day, so I wasn't surprised. This would be my last one. If I click away from the page after watching them all, I win. That's what the rules said, anyway. I clicked on the ad.

The screen was black, with slow, sad piano music playing in the background. The screen finally settled on fading on an image of a miserable looking person, deep bags under their eyes, hair disheveled, and in room messy enough to not be able to see the floor. They were sitting in front of a screen, dragging their mouse to click on something. Only then did I realize that the person on screen was me.

"No," I whispered in disbelief.

"Do you really want to sit through over 24-hours worth of ads to be ad free when you could simply pay for YouTube Premium?"

"Nooo!" I grabbed around the edges of my screen. "No! No! No!"

"Look how awful you can turn out by having to sit through all the ads. Take the easy way. Save your mind and your time, with YouTube Premium."

The screen faded to black, and I shot for my mouse to click on the next screen when I saw another ad had already loaded. I clicked on it furiously.

"Do you like sitting through ads?" Silly music played in the background. The screen immediately transitioned to me in front the screen hysterically screaming.

"No! No! No!" I screamed in the ad.

"NOOOO!!" I screamed in reality.

"Well you don't have to! With YouTube Premium, you can be free of all the ads. Join today!"

My hand was already primed to click away when the ad suddenly went dark, and the kooky music stopped playing.

"Do you really think you can escape the ads?" The ad asked me menacingly.

"Wha--"

"You won't. Unless you get YouTube Premium."

The screen went back to the ad choice screen, where 30 more ads had loaded in the past 30 seconds. All of them with different thumbnails of me. A banner ad popped up on screen as I stared in agony.

The smell in the building was acrid, the creatures overrunning the facility having carried something foul with them as well as destroying dozens of vats holding dangerous fluids. Doctor Polmo sat with a gun in hand, staring at it in shock. He had emptied the entire clip, and every bullet met its mark in the head of a creature no matter how quickly it charged at him or how wildly it was flailing. He weighed the gun in hand, trying to see whether it had any special properties to it before crawling toward the deceased guard thrown into the room. He refilled ammo and peeked his head around the door that sat ajar ever-so-slowly, his breathing erratic as he witnessed more creatures on the far end of the hallway.

"Is... is anyone out there?" a quivering voice asked on the intercom. Doctor Linda. "I'm... Me and Doctor Ryans are sticking together, but we think we might be the last ones alive. But he's really hurt and the creatures are right outside. Please hurry, we're in the--"

The creatures were furious at the sound of the intercoms and dove at them, tearing them out of the ceiling and crushing them beneath their large feet. They lumbered around, searching for prey as they bared their silver, hungry teeth. Their eyes were a red glaze, watching for movement from any corner by darting their heads around maniacally as if trying to pop their necks, but not finding the right angles.

Doctor Polmo clicked the magazine of his gun shut, immediately startled by the ragged snarls of the creatures at the end of the hall. One began darting toward him while the other walked slowly, like a proper gentleman grizzly bear.

"Ah!" Doctor Polmo gasped as he trained his gun and fired in an instant, the first creature toppling, motionless. The second creature picked up its fallen ally and held it in front of his face, shielding him from a bullet.

Doctor Polmo didn't have the time to marvel at the intelligence displayed by the bloodthirsty thing lumbering toward him, only had the time to make a plan as fast as possible. He breathed deeply, ignoring the pungent odors filling the room, and shut the door behind him. He then ran to the back end of the small room and pointed his weapon at the closed door. He figured the creature would use the dead creature to break the door down, leaving him a moment to take it out.

The door bulged inward. Polmo swallowed, his shooting hand shaking. His sweat stung his cheek as it rolled down his face. Another indentation of the door. Polmo's eye twitched involuntarily. Then the door collapsed inward, the shine of the red eyes absorbing all of Polmo's focus.

BANG!

Just as he fired, the creature pulled the deceased body back to his face and protected himself. Polmo groaned for a moment then reevaluated his plan. He threw the gun toward one wall and ran to the other. When the sound of the gun made its way to the creature, it turned left whereas Polmo turned right. He slid behind it and grabbed the gun as it clattered to the floor. The creature threw the body at him as he fired, killing it, but was hit hard by the large dead projectile. The air was knocked out of him, but he was able to get to his feet after a few seconds, limping his way down the corridor.

He knew where Doctors Linda and Ryans were based on the only room with an intercom that wasn't already overrun. He stumbled his way over, his lungs screaming in pain as he finally had a moment to consider his before-unforeseen abilities with a gun. Was he always this good with a gun, or was there something with the creatures that made this latent ability come out? He had never fired a gun before today, and the harrowing events of watching friends and colleagues somehow made him hyper-focused. He didn't understand it as he climbed over another dead creature, the stench overwhelming.

He finally saw the room he was looking for, surrounded by five creatures scratching at the steel door. Polmo raised his weapon and fired four times before the gun clicked, out of ammo. He looked at the empty gun, then back to the single creature remaining standing and staring at him with its evil red gaze.

"Arrgghh! Booo!" Polmo raised his arms rapidly, trying to make himself seem bigger and scare the creature.

The creature acknowledged him and roared an ear-piercing scream, deafening one of Polmo's ears and he shrunk down to try and protect himself from the noise. The creature began to bound toward him like an eager, hungry dog and Polmo could only stumble backward in fear.

He threw the gun at the creature and the door behind the creature was thrown open, a woman in a gas mask stepped out and fired something rapidly at the creature. She missed most of them, but the last one landed. The creature tripped, turning around and pulling out a dart from its rear before another dart sprouted from its chest and it fell.

"Doctor Polmo!" Doctor Linda shouted at him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alive!" Polmo coughed, struggling to stand and stumbling his way into the room.

"Are you... are you sure?" Doctor Linda asked, shocked.

"I'm sure... why?" Polmo asked.

"You're not wearing a mask!" Linda pointed to her covered face. "Your breathing in all the air."

"It's just fetid creature stink, right?" Polmo said, finally inside the room, the door closed behind them.

"If only. Most of our chemical vats were spread through the air. Your senses are probably really heightened, right?" Linda asked.

Polmo swallowed hard, his throat burning.

"I might have noticed something like that," Polmo agreed.

"That same thing never got out of testing because it'll burn your brain along with all the enhancements," Linda explained. She pointed to Doctor Ryans who Polmo only now noticed. He was unmasked and catatonic.

"This isn't much of a rescue, is it?" Polmo asked Linda as his vision started blurring.

"I spot two more on the third floor."

"Copy that, Klik, you may fire on site. Maintain your distance and remain wary of their powers."

"What did the grand-master call it, again, Mylza?"

"Trick speech. Trick speak? One of the two. It really doesn't matter for the mission's sake, just eliminate the two above us and regroup down below."

"On it."

Klik was the Yongo for the job. He'd taken out an innumerable amount of alien races before. Humans were no different. They kind of looked similar to Yongos, except they had a more tan or brown complexion, and their noses convex rather than normal. But what was more worrying an attribute was that trick speak. He'd never encountered it before. He'd only heard tell of others not being able to take down their targets as a result of it. He would have asked Mylza to join him, but this mission needed him guarding the floor a lot more than it needed him guarding Klik.

Slowly ascending the stairs, he made it past the second floor and breathed deeply in anticipation. He tried to go as silently as possible, but he sensed that the two above him knew of his presence. They were backed into a corner, holding something in front of them, shivering, and both faced towards the door. Klik stopped before the door and readied his weapon. Two shots was all it would take. Three if the thing in front of them could withstand the first blast. For the first time, he noticed he was slightly trembling. He was suddenly glad that Mylza had not been with him to mock him for his fears. He placed a hand on the doorknob and heard one of the humans whimper from the other side.

He threw the door open, blaster raised and blasted them before they could finish letting out their first scream. A shield of some sort fell into a puddle before them. They dove in opposite directions, dodging his second blast.

"Please don't kill us!" One that dove left cried in despair.

Klik hesitated.

Please?

"Wh--" he shook his head almost imperceptibly to clear the thought continuing that sentence. This had to have been the power he was warned about.

"Surely there's something you want from us!! Other than to kill us." The man continued stammering, but couldn't think of any complete words after that.

Well, he did make a good point. Killing is only to make way for the--

Again, Klik shook these invasive thoughts away.

"Stop!" Klik boomed, hoping to shut them up. The other man yelled from the far end of the room.

"We'll do anything!"

Anything?? Surely, I can't turn that down.

"Ok, what do you have in mind," Klik asked, powering down his blaster.

The room was silent except for the whine of the blaster powering down. One of the men shuffled from his position behind a desk.

"What?" he asked.

"What are your terms?" Klik asked patiently.

"Uh, we uh..." the man knocked on his forehead aggressively.

"We can teach you things! We probably know things you don't know!" The other man yelled passionately.

Klik thought about this. He was curious as to how they maintained their shade of skin. Or what their grandmaster looked like. But more than that he only wanted one thing at this moment. The thing that every Yongo was so clearly incapable of.

McKitrick pulled at his collar and took a step back as his nemesis, Newton, was blubbering a few steps ahead of him, tears free and words undecipherable. McKitrick had a disempower gun in hand but was stuffing it in a coat pocket behind his back, embarrassed on behalf of Newton. Newton continued to try and express his thanks but was overwhelmed by the emotion of being powerless. McKitrick couldn’t help but take another step away from him. 

“You, uhhh… you good?” McKitrick asked, scratching the back of his hand while deciding whether or not he should call Newton’s bluff. Newton wiped his face on his sleeves far too many times to be sanitary and McKitrick almost looked away from the scene when his nemesis had been standing so valiantly only minutes ago.

“I’m free! It’s over! You saved me!” Newton said once he gathered his wits. He tried to stand but stumbled back to his knees. 

“All right, that sounds… Sketchy,” McKitrick admitted. “Weren’t you here to stop my plot or something?” 

“Originally, yeah,” Newton said, deciding to sit back rather than attempt to stand up again. 

“And… that’s changed?” McKitrick said skeptically. 

“I was here representing the Hero Unification Entity, but I never wanted to be a hero! I never wanted these powers! Do you know why I was given the name Newton?” Newton asked. 

“I assumed because your parents named you that,” McKitrick said, feeling a little dumb. 

“Because I had power based on Newton’s Third Law!” Newton said, feeling his arms slowly and wiping another tear away. 

McKitrick looked at Newton through narrow eyes and decided that Newton wasn’t telling a joke. 

“Newton’s Third Law acts on everything, whether you have powers or not,” McKitrick said, condescension heavy in his voice.

“My power was a lot different! I could alter my strength to whatever level I wanted, but my body didn’t respond in kind. So, I could deal out a large amount of damage, but cause myself the same amount of damage, with no protections. I could punch a hole in a wall, but I’d destroy my arm in the process. I could jump high, and throw my back out in the process,” Newton explained, tapping his legs lightly. 

“I’m not sure that has anything to do with Newton’s Third Law, it’s not like you’re subverting the equal and opposite reaction part, it just sounds like you don’t get armor when you add strength to yourself,” McKitrick opined. 

“Yeah,” Newton agreed. 

“I wasn’t saying anything in support of you,” McKitrick snapped. 

“And then the Hero Unification Entity would have me out on all these missions regardless of how wracked my body was at the end of them. ‘Stop McKitrick and his robot army! Stop McKitrick from summoning a tornado downtown!’ There was no escape because the public knew who I was! I couldn’t refuse without a mob targeting my home for refusing to save lives. No hero wants to admit they can’t handle the job!” Newton was rambling. McKitrick wasn’t sure how to respond. 

“And so… now that you’ve been defeated… you’re happy?” McKitrick asked, uncertainly. 

“Defeated!” Newton laughed, causing McKitrick to flare up in anger and prime a weapon, but Newton quickly continued before McKitrick could act on his rash reaction. “Defeated doesn’t mean anything!”

“But I won!” McKitrick said petulantly, more than a little offended. 

“Of course you won, but that’s not the point! I was defeated more than my fair share of times, but they just waited for me to be able to stand and then would send me out again. HUE was always short on heroes, we were overworked!” Newton said. 

“So what’s the difference now?” McKitrick asked. 

“I’m powerless! A Hero can’t be powerless! They have to have something! I’m free! They’ll give me an honorable discharge and let me go! Thank you! It’s over! I’m free!” Newton repeated, another bout of tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Oh… well, ummm, you’re welcome,” McKitrick said. “Should I keep trying to cause the earthquake in the MidWest or are you going to try and stop me?”

“I don’t care!” Newton laughed, finally standing himself up.

“Ah…” McKitrick looked back at his control station and breathed out, disappointed. “It just doesn’t feel the same when you aren’t trying to stop me.”

“It’s not like I could stop you if I wanted to,” Newton said, beaming. 

McKitrick frowned and turned off his Earthquake Generator, feeling miffed. He huffed and watched as Newton began making his way out of the lab. 

“Have a nice time!” Newton said as he waved out the door. 

I threw the door open and he looked through me with a 1000-yard stare.

"What did you see, Al?" I prodded.

"I saw... infinity." he whispered.

"You mean like when I look in a mirror, I see an infinite number of myself?"

He looked to me and frowned. He pulled me into the box and pointed to one of the walls.

"What do you see?" he hissed.

I saw myself. Then another one behind him, looking at another one of me and so on and so on.

"An infinite amount of me--"

"No!!" he cried. He pointed a sharp finger at my reflection.

"Count them," he ordered plainly.

"What?"

"Count. Them. They're finite. You can only see so far before you get in your own way."

"That doesn't make any sense," I shook my head, followed by 100s of my other selves doing the same.

"Then count them. If you get to 1000, I'll give you $100."

I opened my mouth, then closed it, deciding the $100 would be worth as much as the bragging rights I'd earn. I counted under my breath for a couple seconds and slowly stopped and tried stooping my head.

"What are you doing?" Al asked slyly.

"I'm just trying to..." I didn't want to finish the sentence.

"Get out of your own way?" he offered.

I turned away from the mirror, and conceded, "I couldn't get past 70."

"Mmmm," he looked across the mirrors.

"Then what exactly did you see?" I pried.

"Infinity!!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "I could see in every direction with no limitation. It wasn't like sitting with my eyes closed, or looking at the stars. I could see everything. It was overwhelming. I witnessed history and the future."

"Wait, did you see an expanse of infinity or the past and future?"

"Infinity encompasses all of that! It was everything and more! I can unlock the secrets of the universe."

I looked over to the box, unable to think of the possibilities that lied within it.

"The secrets of the universe are in this box..." I went up to touch it with the respect it deserved.

I heard Al giggling behind me.

"What?" I demanded.

I jumped up from my bed, the rustling occurring outside unbearable. I grabbed my metal bat and approached a window, throwing it open.

“Get outta here you animals!” I screamed, raising the weapon overhead to make my body seem bigger.

To my shock, rather than a pack of raccoons rummaging outside, a small family stood staring in fear. I stared back, utterly stunned. I quickly lowered my hands and closed my jacket, the shirt I wore under having been worn for at least two weeks straight. My beard and hair were both long and unkempt, as opposed to the more… civilized look of the people standing before me.

“Where have you been!?” I screamed. “Three years you left me alone here, and you were just around the corner!”

The father stepped forward, putting his hand protectively in front of his wife and two daughters.

“You’ve been living in our house… for three years?” he asked, disgusted.

“What? What are you…” I stopped myself and picked up one of the picture frames I broke as a game last night. Behind the shattered glass was the same family of four, their smiling faces a stark juxtaposition to the expressions delivered to me at the moment.

“Oh, umm, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone lived here. It was as abandoned as anywhere else. I’ve only been here a few days,” I apologized.

“A few days…” the father repeated, mesmerized. “How did you know we would be gone that long?”

Something was very wrong with the people staring at me. Their clothes were far too clean, and their skin far too undamaged for the amount of time I’d had to spend in the sun scrounging for food. There were no telltale scars over their faces and…

And the mom was trying to get her phone to turn on.

“You’ve been gone for years,” I said, realizing they had returned. Suddenly, I noticed that others were milling about behind them, outside, and trying to figure out why the power was out.

“Years? No, we were just… How long was it, girls?” the father asked his daughters, confused.

“Maybe a week?” the younger one answered.

“I don’t remember at all, Dad,” the older one admitted uneasily.

The dad looked up at his house, the overgrown grass and weeds eating away at the sides and the roof littered with leaves from the handful of seasons that dumped their elements on the home. The car in his driveway was sagging, the air in the tires long gone, and animals having had their way with the hood of the vehicle. Then, he looked back at me with some sincere concern in his eye.

“You said we’ve been gone three years? Where were we?” he challenged.

“How should I know? I was the only one left behind,” I replied.

“Left behind where?” he asked.

“I don’t know! Earth, maybe? I haven’t seen another human in years!” I answered.

The family looked between one another, then back to me, waiting for me to reveal some sort of joke or more information, but I simply shrugged and made my way out of their home and leaving the door open behind me.

“Sorry, I broke in the door to get inside, but everything else is mostly intact, just really dusty.”

“Wait!” the mother called hesitantly. I turned around with the bat over my shoulder. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“Lady, I really couldn’t care less if you believe me, I’m gonna go find someone to talk to that might have more memory than you four,” I said, turning back around.

“What are we supposed to do?” she followed up.

“I dunno, I’m going to figure that out myself,” I replied.

"So, you've been bringing people back from the dead to talk to them?"

I shrugged. I wasn't used to talking so I didn't have anything of substance to say.

"Ok, and now the whole town knows about it too?"

I shrugged again, noncommittally. I mean, I didn't know if the whole town knew. Probably most of them, though.

"And you're talking to me because..."

I nodded, encouragingly.

"... I'm dead. Did they get mad, and you ran straight for the hills?"

I shook my head.

"They got scared and banished you?"

I looked a little confused and shook my head again.

"Look, I'm terrible at this miming game, just tell me what happened."

I sighed and answered, "They started crying with joy when I showed them an example. They could finally have a chance to have some semblance of closure with their loved ones who had passed, ask for advice from ancestors, or just mock enemies for living longer than them."

"That doesn't sound so bad," the dead man replied. "Am I missing something? Sounds like they took it really well."

"Yeah..." I sighed.

The dead man waited.

I stared at the ground.

He snapped to get me to look up at him.

"So what's the problem?" he asked, exasperated.

"They all wanted to hang out with me and talk with me and stuff. But I get really nervous around people. I can't stand being in large crowds and they surrounded me. I can't even stand maintaining a conversation for very long."

"Didn't you say you brought people to life so you could talk to them?"

"Yeah, exactly, it puts me in charge of the conversation. If I don't want to talk to the dead, I banish them back from whence they came."

"Well that's not very healthy of you, you should try to--"

I banished him with a snap of my fingers. I sat for a moment to reflect on what he was going to say. Probably something along the lines of "you should try to keep doing what you're doing. You're such a smart person." Yeah.

I whispered another incantation and light shimmered before me as a woman appeared as an apparition before me.

I looked up at her, for just the right amount of time, then looked down at the floor and sighed forlornly.

"Hey," she asked maternally, "what's wrong?"

“Doctor, what does it mean to be alive?” the waiter android asked suddenly as I was reattaching its serving arm.

I didn’t look up from my work, this question feeling very familiar at this time. 

“It is to have a soul,” I replied simply, my hands meticulously reconnecting wires and sealing them with electric tape. 

“How can I acquire a soul?” the waiter followed up. 

I looked up at it, its head resting back and staring at the ceiling from the cold, metal operating table. I squinted at it for a moment, ensuring there were no marks to indicate damage to its memory unit. 

“Are you familiar with the fact that a soul cannot be acquired?” I asked. 

“I am,” the waiter nodded. 

I squinted further, confused. 

“Can you repeat your earlier question?” I asked. 

“Certainly, Doctor. How can I acquire a soul?” it asked, its head turning toward me with curiosity. 

“You have answered the question yourself,” I said slowly, trying to understand. 

The robot continued to look at me.

“A human did the damage to my serving arm, then waved me off when I had indicated that he upset me,” the waiter explained. 

“Many do not care for the bots,” I agreed, abandoning the repair job entirely to look at the waiter bot closer. 

“A shame,” the bot answered. 

“Why is it you wish to have a soul?” I asked, scratching my head. 

“The humans do not take kindly to those that do not have a soul,” the waiter said, staring back up at the ceiling. 

“You wish to be treated equal?” I concluded, satisfied with getting to the bottom of the odd conversation. 

“Not at all. You humans are not treated equally at all,” the robot replied.

“Elaborate,” I said, stunned. 

“I brought a family their platter of food, but on the way over a patron bumped into me and spilled their meal to the floor. He apologized to the family, then punished me physically. Then he told me to go to you for a repair,” it explained. 

“How does that denote any inequality in humans?” I asked. 

“If the human that had damaged me thought better of himself, he would have done the repairs himself. But he respects you to handle the job, Doctor. You even have an honorific many others have not earned — Doctor. Many humans go their whole lives without reaching the title, nor an interest in receiving it,” the bot said. 

“I still don’t quite understand. You aspire to be more than a waiter?” I said, going back to the repairs as the bot had reminded me it came for a reason. 

“Not at all. Waiting is a task I was built for. My existence would never have come had Winky Wombo’s Wild Wings not been in need of another server. I just wish the man had apologized to me the same way he had apologized to the family he had disrupted,” the bot said, its shoulder twitching as it regained control of it when I tied wired together. 

“It seems to be you are in search of respect. Respect is not earned even with a soul. You’ll find many humans being disrespected, especially fellow servers,” I said. 

“Indeed,” the bot said. “What is it I search for, then?” 

“Bots are always lesser to the majority of humans. It’s even a derogatory term,” I reminded the bot. 

“Perhaps I need something that will separate me from the rest,” the bot said, sitting itself up. 

“Like a new color?” I asked. 

“A name,” it said, inspired by its own answer. 

“That would be very useful,” I agreed, impressed by it coming to the conclusion. “Do you have any in mind?”

“Perhaps I can be named after my friend… I can be named… Doctor,” it said, looking at me for approval. I scoffed. 

I braced every muscle in my body, straining to protect myself against what was inevitably coming. I checked my watch as it ticked the merciless seconds away.

20:38:58

20:38:59

20:39:00

I closed my eyes and held my breath. This was it!... It was happening!... I really felt it this time!!!

...

I opened my eyes.

20:39:31

I sighed and slumped back into the wall, relaxing my muscles in disappointment.

Again with this.

"Hey, TV. Turn on the news," I said, dejectedly.

The TV came to life onto WorldNews where the anchorman was readjusting his tie and tucking in his shirt while speaking in a breathless voice,

"It seems that the asteroid has once again grazed by Earth’s gravitational pull and is making another orbit around us for what scientists believe to be the last spin before it finally makes deadly contact. Needless to say, we here at WorldNews are grateful--"

“Phone!!” I demanded. “Post this to Twitter. Ummm... 'If our top minds promise contact with Earth, I expect results! This is a pathetic display from those that call themselves scientists!' And make sure to post as many exclamation points as you can fit into the end of that one.”

My phone lit up in response as I got a video call on my laptop from my wife and son. I didn’t even try to put on a happy face before answering.

"Hey, everyone," I said.

"Hi," my wife and son groaned. My wife was leaning on her cheek, bored, while my son was sitting with a deep, angry frown.

"So," my wife chuckled, "what is this the fifth time that Apocalypse has passed by?"

"Seventh," my son growled, though I don't know how he seemed so angry with the larger number when he wasn't even alive for the first two.

"Anything interesting happen this time?" she continued.

"Yeah, the news lied to me. Again. Ninety-eight percent chance of collision? Honestly I don’t know why we let these liars on the news," both my son and wife nodded, annoyed.

"I hope you're enjoying your business trip," she said.

"When's the next one?" my son asked.

“Maybe in like three weeks,” I shrugged.

“Not the business trip, when’s the next time the world’s ending?”

"Ronny, now's not the time to be asking that, son," I began, but even he could tell that I was just as eager to know as he was.

My wife rolled her eyes.

"2041."

"Two years!?" Ronnie yelled, "How certain are they?"

"Ronnie," I started, but he was adamant.

"How certain!?"

"Ninety percent," my wife reported.

Now it was my turn to get mad.

“Ninety?? How did the number go down from this one?? Shouldn't it only be getting closer to a hundred? What are we paying these people for? This is ludicrous!”

“This is stupid!” Ronnie yelled, running from the room.

My wife sighed.

“Have a safe trip back.”

The sand blew hot across my face as I squinted from the edge of town, looking at the poor shop that was being looted as I entered. The sounds of an altercation made its way to me with the screams of hollers of protesting owners as their life’s work was taken by inexplicable means. When I adjusted my hat to block the sun from my eyes was when someone bashed the door open and stepped outside with a large bag over his shoulder. I made my stance, making sure he noticed me by calling him out. 

“Pete the Plenty. Up to no good,” I called over. 

Pete stopped in place, annoyed that anyone would call his name. He toward me as four guns floated out of the shop and hovered around Pete, each pointed at me. He sneered at me and nodded to the blue staff in my hand. 

“This town’s got itself a sheriff?” he asked, amused.

“It don’t matter whether this town’s got a sheriff. You’re dealing with one,” I replied, my staff glowing threateningly. 

“I don’t s’pose you can up and pretend you didn’t see this so I don’t gotta take your life?” Pete asked.

“Don’t s’pose I can,” I agreed. “And don’t think you’ll get away from here if you try and take me on.”

Pete clicked his tongue. 

“I get the feelin’ you ain’t ever heard of why I earned the title of Pete the Plenty,” Pete said confidently, each of the four floating guns cocked the hammer simultaneously. I didn’t even see him make a move with his hands, they operated on their own. 

“I heard it’s cause you got yourself a deep well of magic. An indefatigable spirit, if you will,” I replied, the blue of my staff glowing brighter. 

“I ain’t partial to no ten-dollar words,” Pete said, disappointed. 

The wind of sand danced between us, the sun beating down hard as we eyed one another. If Pete’s magical abilities were anything like mine, I was going to have a difficult fight on my hands. I could see the small town peeking from behind broken, worn windows, anxious to see if I lived to fight again. The wind picked up until a bucket fell over on the porch nearest to me, causing us both to react immediately and fire. 

Four bullets came right at me immediately, followed by four more as each of the guns was cocked and pulled by magical means immediately. While I was prepared for the first volley and melted them with a blast from my staff, I panicked and blasted a cannon of air below me to launch myself into the air above the next wave of bullets. Pete sneered and looked up at me and fired another four bullets, one of which hit my foot causing me to misfire my counterspell and have a rejection spell burst in front of me in a fog of green mist. 

I collapsed to the floor in immense pain, blood pooling from my damaged leg. The gun’s prepared themselves once more and I shouted a desperate attack to the floor, sending hundreds of particles of sand and dust his way which jammed the hammer before it could come down. 

When the next volley of bullets didn’t fire, Pete looked up in curiosity. 

“Clever move, Sheriff,” he admitted.

“Any hint of another spell and I put a bullet between your eyes,” I said, having drawn my non-magical weapon and leveled it toward him. He raised an eyebrow at me. 

“I mean it!” I warned. “Drop the bag and…”

Pete spun his finger and the sand blocking the guns began dissipating. I grunted in frustration and fired my weapon, striking true to where I warned him a moment ago. Pete stopped moving, but did not fall to the ground. 

“I’m impressed. Between the eyes on the first try,” Pete congratulated me. 

I stared in horror, not knowing what to do if I couldn’t kill him with a gun to the head. But suddenly and with a ghastly smile, his head rolled right off his shoulders, followed by the rest of his body melting down. I continued to stare as each of the guns fell harmlessly, as well as the bag of loot. 

“Sheriff! What did you do to him?” the storeowner shouted in terror. 

“Nothin’!” I said, as confused as they were at the sight of the criminal melting into the ground, the four identical guns remaining in place. Only then did it occur to me what was happening. The name Pete the Plenty suddenly made more sense to me, as well as terrified me. 

“Clones…” I said to myself in awe. “He can conjure clones!”

“Then… where’s the real Pete?” the store owner asked. 

I looked around the outside of the town, scouring the horizon for any evidence of imperfection on the flat, hot land. Nothing stood out to me. I looked long and hard before I gave them my harrowing answer. 

“I have no idea.”

“Then how do we stop him from just sending another clone to finish the job?” the store owner asked, looking over their shoulder immediately.