#writerofwriting

The room was eerily empty, made up of sparse rows of crooked desks with few inhabitants—some huddled, sleeping mass in a gray hoodie near the window, and the girl with a sleek, black bob who had gone out of her way to make Rani’s life a living hell since she had joined the team. Amber Okawa-Walker, or, as the public knew her heroic persona, Shi, cut her a glare that almost made Rani wince. Had her eyes not remained the same dark brown, Rani would’ve thought that Amber had hurt her.

She really didn’t seem much of a hero. And she really had it out for Rani.

Rani handed the teacher seated at the desk, an ancient woman with steely gray eyes and sagging skin, her slip, and, with no more than a few ounces of shame, stepped her way towards the back of the classroom. She wasn’t sure if she felt some satisfaction in seeing Amber, a bona fide hero, also sharing detention with her. Maybe TJ wouldn’t be as pissed about it later if they split the trouble.

She found herself stopping as she passed Amber’s desk. She felt more than some satisfaction after all—the malice in Amber’s eyes reminded her that she still had a part to play. She was the haughty former villain, forced to a life of working with the enemy. She was supposed to sneer at heroes and think herself better than them. Frankly, she couldn’t help but think that she would make a better hero than Amber. There was something inherently villainous about twisting people’s organs with one’s mind and raising the dead, anyhow. In another lifetime, where SPART-A hadn’t caught her first, Rani could’ve imagined her as a wonderful co-worker. Er, well, back with her former employer.

“Hero in detention?” Rani spoke low and clicked her tongue. “How very badly behaved of you.”

Amber’s eyes flashed with ire, and Rani couldn’t help the shiver as she waited for them to flash with crimson instead. “Villain in detention?” she sneered back. “How very stupid of you to get caught. Again. I’d say it’s a surprise to see you, but we both know you’ll be in here permanently. Anyone would think this was your second home, except, oh wait, it’ll your only home because no one loves you enough to foster you for more than twenty minutes.”

Rani flushed, but said nothing more. She hurried towards a seat in the back of the room. She ignored the stinging in her throat and pulled her textbooks onto the desk. Amber would have done the villain thing well. She knew how to hit where it hurt. Her face burned as she sniffed involuntarily, standing her textbooks up to hide behind, even though there was no practical way to read it. She wouldn’t let Amber hear her cry. She wouldn’t. Even as she could feel the muscles in her right calf constricting and twisting underneath her skin.

So much for ever being part of the team, it seemed. So much for fitting in. At least Amber was unpopular enough that her reputation couldn’t be completely ruined—frankly, she was far more hated than Rani could’ve imagined from a hero. She was beginning to think that hero and villain were useless labels. She wiped her tears as discreetly as she could, and pretended to take notes, despite not having a piece of paper in front of her.

“Alright, that’s enough.” The woman sitting at the desk slammed her cheap paperback novel on her desk. Rani’s shoulders perked up, peering just over her textbook. Amber sat with her arms crossed, looking like the woman had personally offended her. “You two, come on!” Rani felt ready to burst into tears as she realized that you two most definitely did not include the person sleeping in the back corner. She nodded and stood, wincing at the sore muscle of her leg. She didn’t want to imagine what Amber could really do without limitations. Amber swung her legs from underneath her desk with the drama only a teenage girl can muster, rolling her eyes with a full-bodied intent. So she was well-acquainted with this teacher, it seemed.

The old woman didn’t wait for them to reach her desk before grabbing at Amber’s sleeve and pulling her towards the door. “Come on, sweetheart, no need to take your time. You’ve still got plenty of it left, if you play your cards right.” She looked up at Rani. “You too. Go on, out the door.”

Rani did as she was told, following the woman out the door into a large closet within the room, stocked with an array of supplies that couldn’t fit within the normal storage room. Rani swallowed her fear, pressing up against the cabinets. It didn’t look like she’d even get the chance to prove herself as a hero. Amber was shoved beside her, pointedly avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

The old woman placed her hands on her hips, frowning at the two teens. “If you ladies can’t work as a goddamn team, at least be a little more discreet about your shit, you know. You—” She jabbed a finger at Amber. “You sure as hell know better. Stop sulking around! Act like you’re a hero or something instead of some moody little punk. You don’t get to choose your teammates, and you don’t have to like them. And you definitely don’t use your powers on them! Do you think I want to have to babysit you kids all day? I retired and they’re still telling me to mediate with all you spoiled new heroes.” Amber’s face took on a pink tint, but she didn’t say a word. “And you—” She turned on Rani. “Don’t go stirring up trouble like you’re some big shot. I know she’s a pain, but you can’t fight fire with fire. Suck it up, and try harder. Both of you. Or I’ll keep you locked in here with me for a week, and bring in TJ and your whole damn team if I have to. Capiche?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The woman cut Amber a warning look. “You two can talk it out in here if there’s anything you need to say in private. But don’t take too long. Detention is supposed to be silent, you know.”

She grumbled her way out the door, murmuring something about things being much easier in her day, leaving the two girls alone. Rani took half a step back, wondering what she was supposed to say. It wasn’t like she was going to admit that Amber cut her to the core, nor was she going to apologize.

“I went too far.” Amber kept her gaze as far from Rani as possible. “My therapist says I should stop taking things out on other people and own up to my bullshit. So. Yeah. And the calf thing too. I’m…working on that.”

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but it seemed close enough. Although it did confirm that she had tried to hurt Rani in both ways. Rani shrugged, unsure of exactly what to say. I forgive you sounded lame, and it’s fine didn’t really cut it. Instead, she gestured to the door. “Are you two well acquainted?”

Amber scoffed. “More than I’d like. She used to train us when I was younger, but they moved her to the school on account of, well, being an old hag. And I just have the misfortune of being here under her watch.”

Rani nodded thoughtfully. She wondered for a moment what her life may have been like if she had grown up the way Amber did—recruited by SPART-A and trained to fight for some greater good she didn’t fully seem to buy into. At least she had her sister, Ariel. And she seemed to at least tolerate Nivaan. Although Rani had no clue how long that must have taken. Her eyes wandered to the large window against the back wall.

“How much longer are we stuck in here, anyway?” Rani asked. “Not that I’m looking forward to getting chewed out by TJ.”

Amber only shrugged. “He’s actually stuck up with dance team practice until four. He won’t know if we don’t tell.”

“Well, but what if—”

“Hell, if I’m honest? I’m this close from jumping out that window and going home.” Amber jut her thumb at the window. “I can always ask Ariel to grab our stuff. She won’t ask questions, and she’s here with the Fashion Club until 3:30, so Teej will never know the difference.”

Rani looked between her and the window. “Is this another plot to get me into trouble?”

“Because those worked out so well the first few times.”

Rani sighed. Maybe this was proper team bonding, right? She was already in trouble, anyway, so she supposed it couldn’t get worse. “You promise?”

“Yeah. I promise. But we gotta move fast, or she’s gonna come to check on us again so let’s go.”

The remnants of VAL’s circuitry allows her to break into the radio communications, intercepting the signals traveling between the small group. “Is this the same one?” someone asks nervously. She guesses it’s the shorter one who’s currently leveling a trembling weapon at her, dark metal contrasting the blank snowfield beneath them.

“It looks like her,” another, more authoritative voice answers. 

“So what do we do?” Nervous asks. 

Gods, what an annoying conversation, VAL gripes as another voice joins the chorus. “Everyone just stay calm. We’ll be fine. Now, what is this all about?” The last question is directed at her, she guesses, as the lead figure steps forwards. 

“She can’t hear us, you know. She doesn’t have a radio.” Like hell you know.

Leader stops, then shrugs. “Well, we didn’t have much to say to her anyway.” They raise their own weapon, pointing it directly at her face, along with the other five people there. “On my command-“

She doesn’t let them finish, tossing one of the mining explosives towards them in a trail of magic. It detonates, throwing shards of ice up from the ground and mixing them with the acidic smoke already blossoming into the air. All the light from the normal explosion seems to be sucked away, vanishing into the dark rays that stab towards the outpost. They fall short, obviously, but destruction is not their intended purpose. Not yet.

For the people in the outpost, the ones who chose not to join the now-ill-advised militia group, can see those tendrils. They can hear the sudden static falling over the radio chatter and the silence that follows, see her standing there with those same bands of shimmering magic circling around her. She turns towards the use, and she can feel the fear emanating from within. 

The entity makes use of that fear, and the shifting magic around her snaps, splintering into a spiderweb of pulsing lines as it gathers energy from the souls clustered in the outpost. But it wants more. It - and through it her - tastes that this fear is only the beginning, hungers for the chaos it knows it can cause. 

The outpost is a bastion of order, is part of the intricate system that keeps the whole planet running. But the smell of blood is in the air, that first taste that drives her forwards and starts her striding towards the base. She approaches, feeling the haze of Designer magic that keeps the base running already starting to wrap around her, probing at this unknown intruder. She lets them, mind already heavy with the vision of breaking each individual sigil like a twig and watching as the outpost crumbles around her.

It has few defenses, the outpost, built as the bare minimum to keep the water flowing. She rips through the few perimeter fences with ease, ignoring the long gash that one of the barbs manages to tear in her side. The few shots that do come her way are easily deflected, winging into the air with a trail of sparks. And with each step closer, the terror of those inside builds, fueling her rampage across the grounds.

She reaches the outer door, pressing a hand to it and watching as the hinges turn a dingy shade of grey before crumbling, letting the door crumple under its own weight as the structure within it breaks down. The interior looks almost familiar, dull blue lights illuminating a metal corridor, and she hesitates. Something at the back of her mind, a person almost forgotten, flashes into her awareness for a second before disappearing.

It’s nothing, VAL says contemptuously. Come on, we haven’t got all day. Places to be, you know. Another bolt of magic sizzles out and burns through the inner door, leaving only a gaping hole dripping with molten metal. She ducks through the edges, emerging into the dim and industrial corridors of Aquamarine proper. Pipes line the walls, dials and gauges measuring pressures and temperatures of a hundred different streams.

The thing inside her grins in anticipation, already building magic to tear the place apart. Sparks crackle around her fingertips, and she reaches for the pipes on the walls. A burst of steam jets out just from the heat of her approach. Right then. Let’s burn this place to the ground.

Wait! Eris shouts, pulling back without thinking.

Wait? Why, pray tell, should I wait? 

She doesn’t know how she knows it, but she does. Aquamarine is a mining outpost. It pulls the ice from the ground, right? So this up here is just the refinery - if we stop here, we leave all the actual mining equipment in the ground. They’ll be able to get some replacement up quick, I think-

But we can destroy the refinery and then the equipment.

But we lose time and energy, she counters, and for nothing. Taking out the equipment will take out the refinery above, and we gain the same thing without spending a drop of magic extra.

VAL sounds unsure, but she lets the magic fall from her hands. Fine. Trust the expertise of a Martian. 

Eris breathes a sigh of relief. At least now all the workers and technicians will have a chance to escape, she thinks. Wait. No. Maximum efficiency for killing the outpost. That’s all it is. 

That’s all it is.

VAL doesn’t have the time to walk out of the outpost and around to the scaffolding that surrounds the crater in the ice. She bends down and presses the magic into the ground instead, snapping and twisting the bonds between the molecules that hold the floor together. And she casts it down, a column of burning magic that slices through all levels of the outpost, stopping only when it reaches the glistening ice hundreds of meters below. It bends and then it breaks, sending her plummeting through the torn metal edges.

She lands hard, shattering two layers of ice in a flash of magic. Pain shoots up her legs, and without the reinforcement of magic they likely would have broken several times over even in the Martian gravity. She stumbles, grabbing onto a nearby pipe for support to stop her collapsing to the ground, breathing hard as the corrupted magic works its way back and numbs the pain. Now we burn this place to the ground, VAL snarls. It’s not a question.

The Aquamarine pump extends deep into the ice cap, sending thousands of gallons (pounds? is ice measured in weight or volume? that same part of her wonders) up to the refinery every minute. But here, where it intersects the surface, is the point she’s going to break, destroying both the pump and the supports for the refinery above and sending it all crashing down into the crater. 

It’s a practiced eye that guides her to place the explosives, connecting them with thin strands of magic. She can identify the structural weaknesses at a glance, noting where the intersections and rivets and bolts will weaken and collapse with just the right push. A fiery, kinetic push, but it’s the same thing. And on each one VAL places her own magic, readying the shattering bolts for the moment when each detonates.

Because she is gleeful. There’s no other word about it, that same anticipation for the moment when the outpost, built over years and a keystone of Martian society, will come crashing down. Reveling in the destruction that hasn’t even happened yet, the same way that someone might anticipate a meal they can already smell in the air, or a gift they know is wrapped and waiting for them. 

Eris can’t feel the same way. Even as she arms each individual hemisphere, yellow lights blinking on, she can’t help the feeling that this is wrong. The thing in her head says that this is not her home, but she can’t shake the feeling that it is, and that when she’s destroying it she’s destroying her life as well. 

Well, we’re not, VAL snaps. We are from a different universe and here to cause chaos and destruction. Get over yourself. She pushes the feeling aside, because VAL is right - she hasn’t lived here, doesn’t have any memories of it - but can’t get rid of the misgivings. The last of the explosives blinks yellow, armed and ready, and she nods.

Even eagerly awaiting the chaos, VAL isn’t an idiot. She drags them out of the crater, onto a nearby ridge of smudged and dirty ice, to watch. Eris, again, takes care not to look in the direction where she’s sure the evacuation forces are gathering. VAL doesn’t notice, too caught up with the energy she can taste coming her way. She starts the detonation with all the fury and hunger of a predator pouncing on its prey.

A deep vibration runs through the ice under her feet, shaking loose the top layer of snow. A bright flash echoes from beneath the outpost, but for a moment everything seems just as frozen as the ice cap. Then the spire tilts, the supports buckling and straining as the tendrils of jagged magic begin to pull at them. Sparks and glares of light fly from the refinery as the machinery breaks down, pipes and boilers bursting as the buildings collapse.

Steam jets out above it, ice and water together sublimating in the cold, thin martian air. And as it crumples in on itself, it pulls the edges of the crater in with it, shelves of ice sliding in to collapse on top of the disintegrating outpost.  Shockwaves ripple out through the ground, the tactile counterpart to what must be an awful sound even in the thin air.

The entity of magic inside her head loves it, glories in the scene of devastation before it. It loses itself, just for a moment, the rush of energy and chaos overriding even its vicious sentience. And that’s why it doesn’t see the tears rolling down her eyes, doesn’t see her watching the fall of Aquamarine with bright eyes.

This isn’t its home. But it is hers. 

Looks like the Malformation might not be as completely in control over Eris!Anechoi as it thinks...

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