Nydelig dropped through the top of the trees, blue vines wrapped around her. She twirled as she fell, the vines slowly releasing her while the sun shone beautifully against her yellow feathers. Dyktigen could not help but watch her as her wings spread from her back, revealing all of her majesty. She began gliding above him as he continued running on all fours, claws extended from his fingertips.

Focus, Dyktigen scolded himself, shaking his head and increasing speed.

His vision became a dark green blur as he ran through the jungle, Nydelig soaring above him. Without any warning, he skidded to a stop and began climbing the green tree as rapidly as he possibly could. Nydelig dove past him. He pushed off of the tree and dove after her. Nydelig opened her wings once more, slowing her fall and allowing Dyktigen to land on her back. He wrapped his legs around Nydelig’s waist as they both began soaring once more.

“That was the fastest time yet!” Nydelig exclaimed.

“Awesome! If we can convince our tribes to merge, we can teach them how to do this maneuver for battle. Just imagine combining flight with a ranged weapon! We would be unstoppable!”

Nydelig chuckled. “Or they could just mount us from the ground.”

“That’s not as epic or fun.”

“Okay, you got me there,” Nydelig said. “The leaves are such a pretty pink this morning.”

“Yeah. Only thing prettier is you,” Dyktigen said.

Nydelig blushed as she began flying lower to the ground. “I have bad news, Dyktigen,” she said after a pause.

“What’s that?”

“Some of my friends and family in Flygere have noticed a change in my behaviour. They sent scouts out to figure out where I was going every morning, and they were not pleased to see that I was with a man from Poter. They told me that I can see you one more time, then I have to forget about you, or there will be consequences to face. For me and you.”

As she said this, she landed, and Dyktigen dropped from her back.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, slowly standing up.

“I don’t really have a choice, Dyktigen. We have to stop seeing each other.”

Dytigen’s heart dropped. Tears began to form in his eyes. “But I love you, Nydelig.”

“And I love you. But our love is forbidden. If anyone else finds out from any of our tribes, we could face some serious trouble.”

“I am not afraid of becoming an outcast if it means being with you for the rest of my life,” Dyktigen said.

“I think we both know that being outcast is not what they would do to us.”

Dyktigen stepped forward and hugged Nydelig. Nydelig relaxed in his firm embrace. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

Nydelig looked into his teary eyes. “I don’t want to lose you either. But staying together will result in the death of one or both of us. I love you, Dyktigen. Don’t you ever forget that,” she said, then kissed him.

“I love you, too.”

She began flapping her wings. “Good-bye,” she said, then flew towards her village.

Dyktigen sat down and rested his head in his hands. “I love you,” he whispered.

⇔

Dyktigen ran through the woods at top speed. Four years had passed since he had seen Nydelig. He thought about her constantly. She was the only thing he ever dreamt about. He wanted nothing more than to hug her and kiss her and tell her that he loves her. But both tribes still despised the other.

Slowly, Poter came into view.

Poter was Dyktigen’s tribe. The people of Poter resembled cat-people, though they did not have fur. They had grey skin, retractable claws in their fingers, cat-like reflexes, and elf ears. They wore their hair in braids that hung down their backs. The people of Poter were incapable of growing facial hair, but they did have whiskers. Men typically trimmed their whiskers, while women grew theirs out. Though bipedal, they could run at much greater speeds if they ran on all fours.

The actual village of Poter consisted of hundreds of wooden houses. Most lived in single-story homes with vines craftily woven to act as a roof. Those who lived in multiple story houses were either great warriors, nobles, or those who were well respected. In the center of the town was a six-story building where the leaders of the tribe met. The whole village was surrounded by a wall that stood one hundred feet tall. Two guards stood at the top of the entrance and two stood in the entrance. The entrance was open during the day, and closed at night. In order to enter at night, one must speak to one of the guards in front of the door. They would then signal the guards on top who would pull a lever and open the door. Six of these doors existed.

Dyktigen ran through the gates and headed towards the center of the village. Upon reaching the center, he entered the large building where the leaders met.

“May I help you?” a young woman asked as Dyktigen stood up and readjusted his backpack.

“I need to speak with General Krigshelt.”

“On what business?”

“He sent me to scout the Fienden camp. I have returned, and need to see him immediately.”

“He’s in a meeting right now. He won’t be available for another hour or so,” the receptionist said, breaking eye contact and examining her claws.

“Trust me, his meeting is far less important than the information I have.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes. “Listen, he’s busy. You’re just going to have to come back later.”

“Thanks for the help,” Dyktigen said, then walked towards the stairs in the back of the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

“I think you know,” Dyktigen answered with a wink.

The receptionist sprang from her seat and threw herself onto Dyktigen. “I can’t let you do that,” she said, pressing her claws beneath Dyktigen’s chin.

“You have to be kidding me. This is urgent,” Dyktigen said.

“What’s the message?”

Moments later, Dyktigen burst into the meeting room with the receptionist right behind him. “Sir, your scout has returned with a very urgent message,” she said.

Dyktigen saluted General Krigshelt. Krigshelt returned the salute, then said, “What is it, Lieutenant?”

Dyktigen pulled his backpack off, then pulled a piece of paper from within. He threw it on the table, narrowly missing the head of an important village official. “Sorry,” he said as he walked towards the table. “Probably shouldn’t have thrown it. I’m a little excited.” Dyktigen unrolled the piece of paper.

“What is thi--oh! Well done, Lieutenant!” General Krigshelt exclaimed.

“This is a map showing where they are going to strike next. And this,” Dyktigen said, pulling another paper from his backpack, “details exactly what the plan of attack is.” Dyktigen gave the paper to Kringshelt.

“This could have waited.”

“No, it couldn’t have waited. These are the plans for tonight.”

“What is this right here? We don’t have a camp over there,” Kringshelt asked, pointing at an area on the map that clearly indicated a second camp.

“I’m not sure. The plans don’t mention it.”

“They must be at war with multiple tribes,” someone in the room offered.

“They are either insane or way stronger than we think they are if that is the case, Politiker,” Kringshelt replied.

“Let’s hope it’s the former,” Politiker replied.

“I recommend that you get this information to Admiral Krigere as quickly as you possibly can,” General Kringshelt said.

“Yes, sir,” Dyktigen replied, then saluted.

General Kringshelt returned the salute.

Dyktigen ran out of the building as quickly as his two legs could carry him. Once out of the building, he got onto all fours and sprinted towards the camp.

Once he arrived, he immediately ran to the large tent near the center. He entered and found Admiral Krigere sitting at a table, speaking with his strategists. He looked up from his conversation and said, “What brings you here, Dyktigen?”

“There is going to be an attack tonight. And I have the battle plans.” Dyktigen gently set the map and letter onto the table. “They are rushing us from the south and the east. They plan to do this while we sleep. I think we could set some archers on the hills half a mile south, and hide the rest of the army in the valley that the Fienden will have to walk through to reach us. If executed properly, we should be able to take them by surprise.”

“What’s this camp directly northeast of ours?” Krigere asked.

“I don’t know. Would you like me to scout it out?”

“No, we don’t have time. Grab your bow and spread the word. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

⇔

Dyktigen notched an arrow and aimed into the valley. He could see a torch in the distance.

He let the arrow fly. It whistled as it soared through the air and stuck into the side of a tree. It was a signal arrow, designed by the Poter to mimic the call of an owl.

Dyktigen smiled as those around him readied themselves.

In a few short minutes, the army of Fienden was in the center of the valley. Dyktigen notched another arrow. All the others followed suit. Almost at once, every bowman released their arrows onto the unsuspecting army beneath them.

Immediately, the Poter army emerged from their hiding spots and charged the Fienden.

The lizard people and the Poter clashed together in a huge battle that lasted for hours. The archers were rushed and had to put down their weapons and join in claw-to-claw combat.

At first, things were looking good for the Porter army. After an hour of battle, however, the Fienden gained the upper hand. The Poter retreated, sprinting back to camp.

⇔

The Flygere soared over the battle, watching as the Fienden and the Poter fought. When the Poter began their retreat, he flew back to his camp, which was northeast of the Poter camp.

His camp was far superior to the camps of the Fienden and the Poter, for the Flygere were a tree dwelling people. The Flygere had orange skin, wings on their backs, and vision incomparable to any other living creature. They had four toes on their leathery feet, each containing one massive talon, perfect for gripping an enemy by the shoulders, soaring them into the air, then dropping them some distance below. Feathers hung from the back of their arms, leading to their back which was almost entirely covered with feathers. Feather color varied. They wore tight-fitting pants and shirts to limit wind resistance when they flew. Their faces were completely humanoid.

He flew through his camp, which consisted of small tents placed skillfully on the sides of many trees. Eventually, he found the main tent.

Inside the main tent was a large vine net, tightly bound between four trees to make a large, walkable surface. There were no chairs, and the table was not very high off of the floor.

“Colonel,” the scout said, approaching a massive, black-feathered man in the middle of the tent.

“Airman,” he acknowledged.

“The Fienden are approaching camp as we speak. The Poter barely escaped with their lives. They are much, much stronger than we anticipated.”

The Colonel turned towards the scout and approached him slowly. “The Poter barely escaped? They must have been blindsided.”

“No, sir. It was the Fienden who were outnumbered.”

“But the Poter are far superior strategists, and much better warriors. If this is the case--”

“We don’t stand a chance, sir.”

The Colonel began pacing.

“We could stick to just our talons, sir,” the scout offered.

The Colonel thought for a second. “No. We would be shot down before we could send a second wave. How long before the next attack?”

“I would imagine they would attack tomorrow afternoon.”

“Maybe we will attack tonight when they set up camp.”

“Now that they know we know, I doubt that they will set up camp. Our best option would be to tell the others to be prepared for battle,” the scout replied.

⇔

Dyktigen pulled out a second paper from his backpack now that he was back at camp. Plans to attack the Flygere camp. He was going to secretly deliver this to the Flygere, but now he was thinking that the better choice would be to trick Admiral Krigere into thinking that he intercepted more plans for attack.

He left his tent and searched for Krigere.

He found Krigere pacing near the fire in the center.

“We were almost crushed out there,” he said, noticing Dyktigen approach him.

“We have a second opportunity,” Dyktigen replied. “I intercepted a second paper. They plan to attack us from the northeast. Turns out, that friendly camp was actually a Fienden camp,” Dyktigen lied.

“When did you get this paper?”

“I found it on the body of a man I killed today,” Dyktigen lied again.

“When should we attack?”

“Noon tomorrow. We should head out at ten. We’ll meet them long before they have time to fully prepare.”

“This is our last hope. If we lose this battle, the Fienden will win.”

The Poter army left early the next morning. As they approached the camp, they heard sounds of battle.

“What’s going on?” Krigere asked Dyktigen as they neared the raging battle.

“I lied. You saw what happened to us. The Flygere would be much worse off. Besides, maybe together we can defeat the enemy.”

“HALT!” Krigere called to the line. The Poter army stopped. “We are not fighting alongside the Flygere.”

“We are allies against an enemy that is stronger than each of us. That is our last hope: the Flygere.”

Admiral Krigere glared at Dyktigen. “Lieutenant, you lied to me. But you’re right. Today, we must join the Flygere in battle. Forward, MARCH!”

The Poter rushed into battle, archers staying on the edge of the woods, the rest running straight towards the enemy.

Dyktigen began slashing through the enemy lines, gouging out eyes and cutting throats in the process.

He jumped onto the chest of an enemy, then flipped onto the back of another. He broke the enemy’s neck before sticking his claws deep into the throat of the enemy he had jumped off of. He looked up and saw a familiar yellow flash.

They made eye contact. “Nydelig,” he whispered to himself.

She looked at him and winked. He nodded and began running through the enemy lines. He jumped onto an enemy, then jumped onto a tree and began climbing it. Nydelig dove past him, and he flipped off of the tree. As practiced, he landed onto her back. The battle seemed to pause for a second as many looked up in awe at Nydelig and Dyktigen as they soared over the enemy lines.

Nydelig gripped an enemy in her talons and flew up. Dyktigen pulled a bow from his back, notched three arrows, then watched as the three arrows masterfully hit their mark.

A few Flygere flew to the ground and ran to the Dyktigen archers. Other Flygere threw their swords onto the ground and flew over to the archers. Pretty soon, there was a legion of Poter riding on the back of Flygere.

The tides of the battle quickly turned, and the Fienden fled. But the Poter and Flygere flew after the fleeing Fienden and killed them.

After the battle, Admiral Krigere approached the Colonel. “This is only our third victory. I think that we should…”

“Put our past prejudices behind us and join forces?”

“Yes. That.”

“Agreed. Come with me. Let’s discuss this in further detail in my tent.”

As the Colonel flew off with Admiral Kirgere, Nydelig and Dyktigen landed.

“I think about you every day,” he said as they finally stood face to face once again.

“So do I. I told you that I loved you, Dyktigen.”

“I wrote you a poem.”

“Well, let’s hear it!” she replied excitedly.

“Your smile is prettier than the two suns

That shine above us.

I love you, and don’t want to leave you

And yes, that’s true

I want to see you again.”

“I love you too,” she said. “But poetry is not your thing.”

“I know, I know, but--”

“Shut up and kiss me already,” Nydelig said, pulling him to her. For the first time in over four years, they kissed once more.

⇔

Dyktigen entered his home after another year of battle. He was happy to finally be home once more. Happy that they had finally won the war against the Fienden.

“Welcome home!” his wife called to him. She rounded the corner, and the first thing Dyktigen noticed was her stomach.

“You’re pregnant…?” Dyktigen asked skeptically, slowly approaching his wife.

“We’re going to be parents!” she exclaimed. Her face seemed to glow with excitement.

Dyktigen began to smile. Hugging and kissing his wife, he said, “I love you, Nydelig.”

I wonder about all the thoughts people have ever had about me. If anyone ever thought of sending me something just like the messages on the unsent project, if anyone had ever typed a paragraph that deep and profound and unsent it. I wonder if I could have been pulled out of a dark place by a potential message but they decided to let their words slip away. Love is a very particular emotion weird but so comfortable. It can both bring you onto cloud nine or dump you into the depth of your despair. I often catch myself losing track of my thoughts but it always finds its way to the topic of love. Being a hopeless romantic in the 21st century has its perks. The opportunities that arise from dating apps, mutual friends online, having everyones information at your fingertips and etcetera. Being a hopeless romantic in the 21st century is also one of the most tragic of love stories. Speaking of tragic love, Shakespeare once said "‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind’ such beautiful words were the inspiring truth but now, they represent nothing but a mere dream.

In a generation that romanticizes hook up culture, one who hopes to meet the love of her life has to go through dozens of heartbreaks. Boys who want her for her hourglass figure but not the incredible passion she has for sports. Boys who love her long silky hair but will lose all his so called 'feelings' with one chop. Boys who compliment her enchanting smile yet could not put aside five minutes to listen to her hopes and dreams. Boys say "be here at nine" instead of "I'll pick you up at nine." No more opening car doors no more spontaneously showing up at her house. Even in 1823 Lord Byron could foresee this, chivalry is dead. Boys submit messages to the unsent project. Boys recognize their mistakes only after losing a woman but it's okay, they move on in a week. You may have noticed I have a lot to say about boys but men - men are different. A typical personal may define boy and men as roughly the same. "Boys are just a younger less developed version of men right?" Very true but so very wrong. Men find their woman and hold onto them tight. To men, the right woman makes everything else a blur. Men see the woman of their dreams for her beauty, yes, but men will transform that perception of beauty. Her hopes and dreams are reflected in her smile, her careful diet in the shiny hair. Her figure comes from a lifelong hobby and most of all, he knows they make each other happy for every single reason there could possibly be.

I wonder about all the thoughts people have ever had about me. If anyone ever thought of sending me something just like the messages on the unsent project, if anyone had ever typed a paragraph that deep and profound and unsent it. In a generation that romanticizes hook up culture one who hopes to meet the love of her life has to go through dozens of heartbreaks. For a hopeless romantic, boys everywhere are put on a pedestal but it is when she finally loves herself that her one 'man' reveals himself amongst the boys. He will send that paragraph expressing his love instead of putting it on some anonymous website, she will finally know what it feels like to not have to work for his affection. Maybe he will enter her life right when she finds her own confidence or on a rainy day holding an umbrella over her head. When the day comes, "love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."

The glass vial stood stoppered on the small table, silvery liquid swirling inside like yeasty back alley wine. Next to it a long fine glass dropper nestled carefully in a fitted box.

She knew of them, glass and the Serum, but in her thirty some odd years had never seen either. Moving forward she reached out one cautious finger and stroked the glass. How is it that something so fragile and beautiful for it in this hard world, was the only substance capable of housing something so powerful and valuable? A thought for the philosophers of old, and one she could not waste energy on. Not now.

“Have a seat, you know how this will work, yes?” a curt nod and she perched on the chair Cal gestured to. He un-stoppered the bottle and suctioned the liquid up the eyedropper with delicacy she had seen in some fathers as they took their squalling babe in their arms for the first time.

Cas moved behind the chair and placed his hands on either side of her head, thumb and index fingers poised to hold her eyelids open. The Serum was too precious for even a drop to be wasted to a reflexive blink. Cal moved in front of her with the dropper. The calloused hands on her cheeks tilted back her head. Every muscle in her body tensed against the move. She was a girl again in the fum choked alleys of the lower levels and the ragged former Peace Keeper, so ruined by the thing that had once given him so much power that he could no longer smell the miasma of his own piss and vomit soaked clothes. She had passed too close, once, in her own scroungings. Bony hands with cracked fingernails grasped fistfuls of her tunic, pulling her so close his unkempt beard tickled her face. "Don’t you see?” he hissed. “you are Blind! Livestock! Less than...Slaves!” spittle flecked her face. “I saw! I lived! I could see more than you are capable of, and you took it away. All of you filth!" And he had shaken her so violently that she thought maybe this would be her end. Another nameless body so far below the feet of Justice she may as well have never existed at all. But he had released her, suddenly, with a shove and then crumpled, weeping. She hadn't understood at all until years later, and even still he wasn't sure. But some piece of her quailed at using the thing that had driven that man to what he was.

Cas met her eyes upside down. "Hel, you do this or leave now." his voice iron. "You're good, damn good. But not like this will make you, and if there is any trouble everyone on your tail will be."

With effort she relaxed the corded muscles in her neck. So perfect the glass dropper, now poised over her eye, that the liquid its self seemed reticent to leave, forming a perfect globe, surface rippling, clinging, before the weight was too great. One for each eye, two on her tongue

Hours later, hands steady on the familiar controls of the MX80, centering the normality of it to counter the oddity of her new reality. She thought she understood now, the man in the tubes, she could See. Everything. They were parked in a docking port of an empty manor house on the Third Level. And she could see; the warm pulses of transports through the building, between their Pod and the main flyway. And a different pulse of the uppper caste, seated within their new DL3000s and ModelK luxury cruisers. She saw spaces where an entry port led to a dead-end garage, or spilled into the lower levels. All her potential paths, those she had mapped out before the job, and possibilities she had never seen.

They were poised to hit a medical supply transport as it moved off the main flyways and around to the loading docks of the hospital. It would be guarded, but lightly. Most raids happened in the mid Levels where the populace of the Upper and Lower mingled, grudgingly, and often violently. Consequently, that was where most of the force of the Peace Keepers was focused. This was also a low level target, drugs and equipment people up here wouldn't bat an eye at. But on the lower levels it was a trove that would offer a glimpse of sweet relief; either as a cure or the temporary boon of forgetfulness. And, can't forget, it would bring a pretty penny to Cal and Cas's organization.

She saw the transport turn off onto one side street, then another. "Here she comes". She pulled out of her dock smoothly, emerging ten feet above their target. Her co-pilot lifted his door and dropped a small sonic bomb. It let out a quick pulse that shattered the polymer viewing shield and fried most of the circuitry. The three crew in the pod dropped quickly on steel cables, shot the guards in the cab with a blast that would leave them unconscious for hours and in pane when they woke, but alive. The work was done quickly, the snatched boxes and bags from the storage bay, prying at hidden compartments that Hel directed them to. Smooth. Efficient. Then a cold whisper in her ear. "Holy shit...Hel..." he faltered. She knew. She Saw.

"Grab it quick and let's clear out. Now." There had to be heavy security close. They had probably set off alarms with that pulse beetle. Sure enough, two Keeper cruisers turned off the main road, and one from the direction of the hospital loading docks.

Shit. Hel lowered the pod feet above the transport and the other three clambered in with their haul. "Strap in, we gotta go." Strait up, as much as she could, then full blast out just as the first cruizer came into view. A clipping blast rocked the pod, and then all three were behind, but not far. Weaving through side ways and docking building, always they were tow corners back. A fourth cruizer joined. Cursing she veered into the main traffic, where several major flyways converged, hoping to loose them in the chaos of vessels. She slowed. and her co-pilot swore low. "You can't hide, at least some will be Silvereyes and they have us tagged. You have to out run them. Make them Blind."

The Keepers spewed into the thoroughfare and moved deliberately towards them. She hesitated, just a moment, then burst out, cutting across rows of traffic and back into the side streets. "One hell of a test!" she went fast, too fast, sometimes clipping the corners of buildings, leaving long rents in the pod. Faster. She could feel the pulse of their pursuers grow fainter. Faster. They blipped out of her conciousness, but she didn't slow. The crew muttered curses and prayers. There it was, their escape. She veered quickly into a large building docking port, down, back, stop. "We have explosives, yes? Blast the wall."

An old access tunnel to the next level down, probably sealed up when the building went in. These were scattered around, closed up and forgotten...by most.

"Are you mad? We're sitting ducks!"

"Now! I don't know how much time we have. They are blind right now, but so am I. We have to go down."

Three hurled charges struck against the wall and exploded in a count of ten. Too much? She steered the pod into the tunnel before the dust settled, and quickly down, down down, in long lazy spirals. She counted the revolutions. There was a tickle at the back of her mind. They had found the blown tunnel. Out. Now. With luck they were low enough. She saw and exit shoot and Saw that it emptied into a defunct and filthy alley. The grate over the exit was rotted from fumes in the air. No need for gel charges, she powered through in a screeching of metal. Level 11, this was her space. She took a circuitous route to an abandoned building, a safe house of sorts, and waited hours. Until Hel felt well hidden, but with enough time left of her Serum to get to Cas and Cal. She could see that too.

Only when she set the bags on the table before them, where that delicate vial had sat before, did she breathe easier. She could feel the Serum fading out of her, and she wanted more. Out of one of the bags she took a glass vial, holding it up to the light, mesmerized by its whispers. Then set it on the table, trying desperately to do it casually.

"There are more than twenty vials in that bag. The rest are filled with the goods we expected." Silence. "What the hell was that doing in a medical transport?!"

Cal just sat, head shaking lightly with incredulity. Cas spoke. "A question we will probably never have an answer to. But our luck that it was. You did good. Everyone alive and one hell of a haul. The Pod is in rough shape, but we will need to lay low for a bit anyway. Get some rest." She was dismissed, her steps slow, reluctant to leave all that wealth, that power...

She had almost taken a vial, just one, slipped into her pocket. But the broken ex-Keeper's eyes, bloodshot, dialated to pin points, but unsettlingly clear. He spoke the Truth. Resolve settled, she would be the best, and never ever let herself become Blind.

Characters:

Hugh

Hugh is an alien that looks very human. He cleansed his home planet from evil, and he came to the Earth to do the same. He uses a dark helmet that covers his body with armor that increases his strength and gives him access to futuristic weapons that appear by thought. When Hugh was 16, he captured a dangerous criminal named Gull (this original adventure of Hugh can be read here: https://theprose.com/post/389825/the-pit ). Now 30 years old, Hugh has spent the past 14 years building a worldwide network of heroes powered by the same helmet technology as himself. Hugh has even created an alternate world called the Reflection Dimension, a safe place to keep the most dangerous criminals. The inhabitants of the Reflection Dimension all have food, shelter, and digital entertainment needs supplied, and their only means of escape is to pass a test to show that they have truly given up their evil ways. If they are able to do this, they are also cleared of all criminal charges (The first tale of the Reflection Dimension can be read here: https://theprose.com/post/382631/redemption-in-another-dimension ).

Mirk

Mirk is one of Hugh's associates. He uses the same helmet/armor/weapon gear as his boss. His brother Tam also works for Hugh, and the pair have worked together in the past. In one of Mirk's recent missions, he sent the traitor that stole Prince Lenny Overature's features to the Redemption Dimension before his own features could be stolen, but the traitor did not return, resulting in the prince being stuck in a silhouette form and becoming the villain Leftover. Leftover has since not only tricked Mirk into thinking that he has been turned back to normal, but he also was able to get Mirk and Hugh to give him one of Hugh's helmets, with Mirk and Hugh both retaining no memory of this action. First appearance: https://theprose.com/post/383782/hallway-of-peril )

Leftover

Originally Prince Lenny Overature of the country of Prosperity, Lenny was next in line to become the king. However, his true desire was to join his idol Hugh's hero network. King Overature allowed him to apply for Hugh's team, while secretly contacting Hugh requesting that his application be declined. Hugh appeared to Lenny shortly after and began interviewing him for the opportunity to become a new recruit. This turned out to be a trick, as this Hugh was really the king's trusted advisor Bill. Bill stole Lenny's features, leaving Lenny's body as a dark silhouette. Plotting to pose as Lenny and become king, Bill's plans were foiled when Hugh's associate Mirk came on the scene and sent Bill to the Reflection Dimension, assuming that Bill would return reformed. This did not go according to plan, and Lenny vowed revenge on Hugh and his organization, taking the name Leftover. Leftover plans to build his own team that will eliminate Hugh's group, and do what he feels will be a better job in being heroes. Leftover's latest machinations include tricking the world into thinking he is back to normal, being crowned king of Prosperity, and recently obtaining a modded helmet from Hugh's organization, with Hugh having no memory of this gift. (Leftover's origin story can be read here: https://theprose.com/post/403057/the-prince-s-year-end-goals-destiny-beyond-the-throne )

*****

"Should we close up early James? I'm telling you, nobody buys physical music anymore!"

"No, we will ride this out Julie." James responded. James and Julie worked at Still Jamming, a music store that sold records, cassettes, and CDs (compact discs). Julie had a point: digital music was giving their store a big drop in sales, with not one customer having yet stepped through their doors today. However, James still had a love for physical copies of music, and wanted to be available for anyone that felt the same.

"Personally, there's nothing like kicking back at home to some music on vinyl, so I get it." Julie said, as if reading James's mind. "But we have to think long term here. We aren't getting the traffic we used to get, and our bills are falling behind. It may be time to call it James, I'm sorry."

Before James could say anything, the door opened. James and Julie both perked up, then became fearful looking at their guest. Their visitor was wearing a black cloak that obscured their whole body, including their face. Julie shook off her apprehension and greeted the figure in a friendly voice.

"Thank you for visiting Still Jamming, can we help you find anything?" Julie asked kindly.

"Just browsing, thank you dear." The figure responded in a gravelly voice.

The figure began walking around the store, picking up various CDs to observe them.

"Is there a comic convention or something in town today?" James asked Julie in a whisper.

"I don't think so." Julie answered in a whisper. "But if he is a customer that loves music like us, his strange look doesn't matter."

The figure walked up to James and Julie and bought a copy of the new CD from pop star TopFiftyHitMaker. Julie and James thanked the figure warmly as he left with his purchase.

"See, all went well." Julie said to James, smiling. "Looks like you were right to keep the store open."

Just then, James and Julie noticed something wrong with a large portion of the CDs. There were 29 CD cases not only no longer on their respective shelves, but they all had gained cartoonish facial features, arms and legs. The CD cases laughed, then banded together to open the front door and run out into the city streets.

"Ummmmm, what just happened?" James asked Julie in a shocked tone.

*****

The cloaked figure stood on a nearby rooftop and watched 29 CD cases running down the street, laughing and chanting with glee. The figure then brought his new copy of TopFiftyHitMaker's album to life, and sent it to join the other live albums. He then doubled over and laughed at the chaos he had created.

"Well hello there!" A voice said that sounded like a mix of nobility and treachery. The cloaked figure was startled by this voice, and he turned to find a silhouette figure standing nearby.

"Do not be alarmed, I mean you no harm." The silhouette said. "My name is Leftover, and I have been looking for you. Did you bring a pair of shoes to life on a playground recently?"

"Ummmm yes, that was me." The cloaked figure said in his gravelly voice, now a bit concerned about this Leftover that seemed to be following him. "What do you want with me?" (The incident Leftover is referencing can be read about here: https://theprose.com/post/406294/a-shoe-in-a-new-mystery )

"Well, when I witnessed those living shoes fighting one of Hugh's heroes, it gave me an idea." Leftover responded gleefully. "I wanted to track down the one that has the ability to bring random objects to life. When I observed a group of living CDs running down the street, with a cloaked figure looking on, I figured you were the man I wanted to meet. I gave you my name, what is yours my mysterious friend?"

"I am Lifer." The cloaked figure responded apprehensively. "Forgive my rudeness Mr. Leftover, but what is your game here?"

"Well, I am what I am because Hugh's network failed at their jobs." Leftover replied. "So I want to get rid of every last trace of Hugh and his team, then take his place and truly protect others. A man with your talents could be quite useful for these purposes. Would you care for an interview?"

"I suppose we could talk." Lifer said, sounding less doubtful and more interested in what Leftover could offer. "What are you looking for from me?"

"Well, I am sure one of Hugh's people will be arriving soon." Leftover answered. "For now, let's observe and see what your little CD friends here can do."

*****

Mirk and Tam sat in the conference room of the local headquarters for Hugh's network of heroes. Mirk and Tam were brothers that joined Hugh two years ago. Mirk was 38 years old, while Tam was 23. Both men watched the screen in the room light up with Hugh on it, along with his newest recruits, a pair of shoes named Fred and Shania, who were both trying to figure out how they came to life.

"Good afternoon gentlemen!" Hugh said in his commonly upbeat tone. "Since our new friends Fred and Shania joined us, we have been investigating if there is someone out there with the ability to bring non-living objects to life. Well, we now have a very big lead."

"Awesome, let's hear it!" Mirk said excitedly. He was pushing 40, but Mirk's overall health and attitude was on par with his brother Tam's.

"We received a call from the Still Jamming music store, and they reported a cloaked man that touched a good portion of CD cases before buying one album and leaving." Hugh explained. "After the man left, the CD cases he touched came to life and ran out into the streets. I need you both to get the situation with the cases under control, and apprehend the cloaked man if he is in the area."

"We'll handle it Hugh." Tam said in a serious, but enthusiastic tone. "Are we going to use those weapon upgrades that we have been developing together?"

"Yes!" Hugh said, a big smile crossing his face. "The gun that sends our perps to the Reflection Dimension has been a success, but its limited number of shots won't be ideal for this mission. Tam and I have upgraded all of the weapons so if they are used to kill or knock out an opponent, the opponent will automatically be transported to the Reflection Dimension, with their life restored and their body completely healed. We were able to complete two smoke grenades too - if you use them right you may be able to catch the whole group of cases."

"Great work you geniuses!" Mirk exclaimed, giving his brother a noogie. "The upgrades should help a lot!"

*****

Mirk and Tam arrived on the streets near Still Jamming, both wearing Hugh's standard issue dark helmets that provided full body armor and access to weapons that now had the capability to send their enemies to the Reflection Dimension. As the brothers surveyed the scene, Tam chuckled as Mirk hummed a random Kiss melody.

"You're in a good mood." Tam mused. "Does this have to do with the physical music we are seeking?"

"Absolutely!" Mirk replied. "Yeah, having access to any song you want on YouTube, Spotify and Google Music is great and all, but there is nothing like holding an album in your hands, looking at the pictures the band chose to spotlight, reading the printed lyrics...."

"Maybe, but now we are going to have to likely fight your precious albums!" Tam responded with slight cynicism in his voice. "I still have a big collection too, but I would much rather face one phone with all the music in the world on it than an army of CDs."

"It'll be ok." Mirk responded confidently. "And after we win, we can swing by that record store and see what treasures they have!"

"And that's why you agreed to this mission!" Tam laughed. "It is strange though, a city invaded by live music is quite silent."

Before Mirk could tease Tam for his bad pun, the brothers heard loud chanting coming their way. The thirty CD cases approached Mirk and Tam at all angles, surrounding them.

"We've driven all the people out of this city, and it belongs to us now!" A CD case of the Stone Temple Pilots album Purple jeered in a cartoony, yet frightening voice. "You heroes will not be taking that away from us!"

"Not going to lie, being threatened by my favorite STP album is kind of rad!" Mirk said excitedly to Tam. Tam rolled his eyes and was about to remind Mirk of the convenience of digital music, when a Taylor Swift CD case opened up, sending the CD flying at them. Mirk dodged the flying CD, but the CD hit Tam's leg, sending him to the ground.

"Ha ha ha ha, what is the point of that armor?" A Dane Cook album mocked.

"Bro, are you ok?" Mirk asked Tam, helping him to his feet. There was a slight dent on the armor covering Tam's leg, but he seemed fine otherwise.

"Yeah, didn't expect that tiny piece of plastic to pack such a wallop." Tam responded, still surprised. "Looks like Hugh and I will need to do some upgrades on the armor when this is over."

Mirk made a sword appear in his hand by thought. A laser gun appeared in Tam's hand shortly after.

"I may love my music, but I love my brother more." Mirk said to the CD cases, his tone now sounding angry. "Let's get them!"

Mirk ran towards the group of CD cases in front of him and began slashing various albums with his sword. He couldn't make out all of the albums, but he took down Green Day's Nimrod album, Katy Perry's Teenage Dream, Backstreet Boys' Never Gone, and Korn's Follow The Leader. The fallen albums disappeared after being cut by Mirk's blade, transported to the Reflection Dimension where they would awaken fully healed and cared for.

Tam ran in the opposite direction of Mirk, blasting albums with his laser gun. He also couldn't tell what each album was, but he recognized Dwight Yoakam's Buenos Noches From A Lonely Room, Fleetwood Mac's self-titled album, Guns N' Roses' Use Your Illusion II, 311's Soundsystem, and Sublime's 40 Oz To Freedom.

"Good thing I have all those albums digitally already!" Tam exclaimed. Tam regrouped with Mirk, and they surveyed how many more albums they had left to contend with. There were seven running towards Mirk, and eight running towards Tam.

"Is now a good time to use the smoke grenades?" Mirk asked Tam. Tam nodded.

Mirk and Tam made the smoke grenades appear by thought, and they threw them in opposite directions. The smoke enveloped the remaining albums, and once it cleared all of the CD cases were safely whisked to the Reflection Dimension just like their other companions.

Mirk sat on the ground, panting. "Do you think we got them all?"

"No." Tam responded in a grave tone. The TopFiftyHitMaker CD case was running towards Tam, snarling and glaring at the heroes with bloodshot eyes. The album was holding a cracked CD in each hand, and appeared ready for a melee fight. Tam did not give the album its request, using his laser gun and blasting it to the Reflection Dimension with the rest of the music.

"Now we're good." Tam sighed, sitting down as well. The two brothers silently mused about how neither would ever look at music the same way again.

Twenty nine CD cases then reappeared on all sides of Mirk and Tam. TopFiftyHitMaker was not among them. Mirk and Tam continued sitting, as they knew that the albums could only have returned from the Reflection Dimension if they were ready to live changed lives.

"We're sorry for how we treated you all." The Sublime album said remorsefully. "We won't drive people away, or attack them anymore."

"We're going to go back to Still Jamming, and see if we can get some honest jobs there." The Guns N' Roses album added. "Maybe we can help them with their business."

"Sounds great!" Mirk and Tam said together. The heroes and the CDs then agreed to walk back to the record store to discuss it with James and Julie.

*****

Word spread quickly that Still Jamming had living albums working there, and people were flocking to the store to talk music with the music. James, Julie, and their new friends didn't have to worry about customers ever again - their sales and support were better than ever.

One day Lifer was on the rooftops, looking down at the booming record store. Leftover stood by him, taking in the sight of the previously struggling business finding success again.

"Well, the fake heroes weren't defeated, but you saved a treasured local business." Leftover jeered. "I expected more, but I still see potential for you Lifer."

"How very gracious of you Mr. Leftover." Lifer snapped back. "Keep in mind, I have only recently gained my life giving powers. This battle may not have gone the way I hoped it would, but I did learn a valuable lesson that will help next time."

"And that would be?" Leftover asked, no longer mocking, but genuinely interested.

"I created the CD cases with a desire to cause trouble, but I also gave just about all of them their own distinct personalities. However, the CD I bought and brought to life was an exception. TopFiftyHitMaker's album was designed to only want to kill. I only created one like that this time around, but I am now curious what a whole group with that kind of mindset would be capable of."

"Now that is a plan!" Leftover responded excitedly. "Show me some results with that, and I will guarantee you a spot in our ranks."

"I will consider your offer should it be given." Lifer chuckled. "But for now Mr. Leftover, get some popcorn and turn off your phone. The feature presentation will be starting soon!"