PXFire-- Creative Writing

[VeloJello]

Username: VeloJello.
Team: Avalon Apostles.
Entry:
In the Blink of an Eye.

Spoiler:

Streetlights gleam, bathing the city in stark blue light. The plethora of shops is still crowded with people, but there’s a certain peace in the liveliness, a steady rhythm that the people of the city have established unspoken. From his vantage point on a nearby rooftop, a young man watches vigilantly, eyes roving over the crowd. He tenses every time he senses a disturbance - a sudden stop, a raised voice, an angry glance. But nothing happens, and each time, he relaxes, though the tension in him is building.

The up-and-coming hero Moment rocks back on his heels and huffs out a sigh. He wipes his brow; his mask still feels unnatural and uncomfortable on his face. Months into this gig and he still feels so tense he might be sick. Maybe superheroing just isn’t for him.

A red blur flashes down below, stark within the pale blue night. Moment warps himself back to the edge of the roof, his heart pounding. The red blur is still there for a mere second, weaving through the throng; it zooms out of Moment’s line of sight almost instantly. Fear and excitement make Moment feel lighter than air; without stopping to consider the wisdom of what he’s doing, he zips forward in space, following the blur as faithfully as possible.

As he follows along, Moment catches a few glimpses of the person inside the blur - a big man dressed in red and white. The confirmation of Moment’s suspicions is more nerve-wracking than relieving. Scorpio is a powerful speedster, and while he’s not one of the city’s most brutal supervillains, he’s not to be trifled with. He’s got a rap sheet a mile long. The man’s maimed supers before.

But the way Moment sees it, he’s a perfect counterpoint to Scorpio. His teleportation is high-speed, high-range, flexible enough that he can keep up with Scorpio, and it comes with heightened reflexes allow him to simply warp out of the way of even the fastest attacks. He’s got his own weapons on-hand - a taser, pepper spray, a knife for emergencies - and if Moment wins this fight, he would be famous, venerated. This is his chance to keep the streets safe. To prove himself to his teachers, the world, himself.

Ambushing a speedster is a tricky prospect, as Moment know firsthand. Moment nearly loses Scorpio several times in the chase, occasionally having to trade out his rooftop views and risk crossing open terrain. Once, Scorpio’s red streak slows; Moment’s heart jumps into his chest at the thought that he’s been detected before he’s prepared, but the other super falters and quickly turns a corner, forcing Moment to stretch his teleportation to the limit to keep up.

It happens on a deserted street corner, a place with no people and closely-packed buildings. Moment sees the perfect spot for an ambush here; a place where he can easily block Scorpio’s maneuvers and where no civilians will be hurt. He breathes in deep, breathes out, then warps just ahead of Scorpio and lashes out with his taser.

Scorpio’s form finally resolves, revealing a white-skinned man with frazzled auburn hair. He just barely sweeps out of the way of Moment’s strike, turning a goggled glare on the hero. His voice is a low growl, “What exactly do you think you’re doing, kid?”

Moment forces himself to straighten his back - silently cursing himself for messing up that first attack. “My name is -” his voice squeaks, and he clears his throat. “My name is Moment. And I’m here to arrest you. Stand down, Scorpio, or else.”

There’s almost a nervous look on Scorpio’s face. Moment isn’t surprised; as a speedster himself, he knows how strange it is to get ambushed, to have your main advantage of being able to simply get away stripped off from you. He clings to his taser more tightly as Scorpio folds his huge arms over his broad chest. For the first time, Moment realizes just how big his opponent is. “So you’re gonna be the one to bring me down, eh?”

Bad idea, sings a voice in the back of Moment’s brain, bad idea. But he’s a superhero, and superheroes don’t back down. “No one else’s done it yet,” he says, trying to match Scorpio’s confidence, “so why not me?”

Scorpio cracks his neck, “Well, you went to all the trouble of catching me,” he says, “which isn’t something most people ever manage. It would be just unfair not to give you a proper chance.”

---

This is a bad idea.

Teleporters are one of Scorpio’s least favorite kinds of people. Strong and smart as he is, he knows that his main advantage is his speed, something that skilled teleporters can circumvent with ease. Just like this Moment kid’s done.

And God, he really does seem like a kid. Dressed in a dollar-store ensemble of a bright-blue hoodie and a ski mask of the same color, he looks like a total amateur, and from the way his voice is cracking he can’t be any older than sixteen. Fighting this kid would be unsporting, but he’s armed…

Scorpio clenches his fist. If Moment wants to play with the big kids, then Scorpio will oblige - if only because the stakes are too high for Scorpio not to participate. Everyone’s heard the stories about how prisons for supers are run. Scorpio simply won’t end up there, not at the hands of some kid rookie. So he lunges forward, fist swinging to strike Moment down.

There’s a blink of bright blue light; Moment vanishes, reappears atop a dumpster, then vanishes again. Scorpio dances backward, feet scuffing so fast that they carve shallow tracks in the road, just in time to avoid an uppercut from Moment. He grits his teeth. This kid is good.

For a few moments, the world becomes a blur. The human brain isn’t built to process the world at the speed of sound, but Scorpio and Moment are both so much more than plain human. Even when he’s dashing at speeds that should kill him, would kill him were he not a super, Scorpio can see Moment’s every movement, every jump, every punch as plain as day. He winces as he feels a fist hit his side, whirls on the young man who stands with his arm extended, sprints forward, tries to kick his legs out from under him, is blinded by another flash of blue. Feet pound behind Scorpio and he hurries forward, making a mad dash to escape, but Moment appears in front of him again, taser arcing with white light. Moment is no electrokinetic, but that taser looks like more than enough to bring Scorpio to the ground, and if he falters for a second -

Moment flashes forward. Scorpio tries to dodge to one side, but there’s no chance. One hand, stronger than Scorpio would have expected, holds onto Scorpio’s left arm, weighing him down, preventing him from running. Scorpio sees the taser, feels a flash of panic, and he whirls. His arm shoots out, and the air cracks around his fist. A sound as loud as thunder.

A much smaller crack follows. Scorpio feels bones break.

The shriek that Moment gives is strangled, agonized. Scorpio’s fist had struck ribs, snapping bones out of joint, against lungs. Scorpio steps back as Moment drops to the ground, his still-flashing taser falling out of his hand. The young hero is spasming on the ground, whimpering in pain and terror, trying and failing to gasp for air. For once in his life, Scorpio feels frozen.

He knew what might happen when he tried to bring you in, Scorpio tells himself, but seeing this boy writhe in pain on the ground, there’s nothing reassuring about this.

With utmost caution, Scorpio steps around Moment’s body. Moment, through his pain, seems to sense Scorpio; he teleports, but he can only move a few inches. Scorpio looks down at him without a word, then leans down, pulling a cellphone off the young hero’s belt. His hands shake slightly as he dials. Nine, one, one.

“Hello,” he says to the operator, his voice perfectly calm and collected. “The hero Moment is gravely injured. Broken - it’s at Poplar and Fifth, near Sterling Pawn Shop - broken ribs, I think; he’s having a difficult time getting air. He can’t speak, but he’s still breathing and somewhat conscious. I think he’s in shock.” He pauses, listens to the operator, weighs his options. “No, I don’t know how it happened. I’m no expert, but this seems like it could be fatal. Please, get here right away.”

The operator answers in the affirmative, informs him that paramedics are on their way. Tells him to stay with the young super. “I will,” Scorpio lies, his mouth dry; he lays the phone back down with Moment and looks down at the young man with pity. Moment is barely moving now, and his gasps of air are shaky and shallow.

“You wanted to be a cape,” murmurs Scorpio, still kneeling next to the young hero. “This is our life. There’s no glory in it. Just survival of the fittest. Or the fastest, in our case.”

For a moment, Scorpio considers relenting. He could take off his costume, pretend to be a bystander. Maybe there’s something he can do to help Moment survive, so that this becomes a harsh lesson rather than risk turning into gastly, pointless murder. But he discards the idea immediately; he'd be making a suspect of himself, and there’s nothing more he can do. It’s not like he hasn’t done enough.

And Moment the teleporter lies still, ragged gasps eclipsed by the sounds of sirens, as Scorpio the runner turns into a blur of scarlet once more and disappears into the night.

Other: No gore, but we do deal with serious injury. Tried to keep it somewhat tame without lessening the impact. If you've read my comics entry, this is set in the same universe. I flexed the "same powers" thing a bit, here - while it manifests in different ways, both our hero and our villain have superhuman speed.

[Neo Emolga]

Username: Neo Emolga
Team: Avalon Apostles
Entry:
Shatterpoint

Spoiler:

He didn't want to go back. It had traumatized him enough already, but it seemed it wasn't done hungering on his fear. It seemed like no matter how he just wanted to run and hide, it insisted on coming back for him.

"You have to break them, Karos. It's the only way."

"...the only way."

"I can't go back, dammit!" he shouted.

With a crack of thunder blasting outside, the panicked Raichu awoke shouting and screaming, only to find himself in his bed in the same burrow he had slept in the evening before. He was panting, somewhat ashamed to have been shouting in his sleep, but this was the nature of his nightmares. By day, he had to fight them for real. In his sleep, he struggled with them as they didn't even leave his dreams alone.

He arose to his rabbit-like feet, brushing off his orange and white fur features, making sure the dream wasn't real and that he didn't have the fragments of glass sticking in and embedded in his fur and body after all. Even after brushing his fur, ears, and face, he realized he was fine, but his heart was still racing.

You know this war can't keep going on. It'll eat you, body, mind, and soul. You have to finish it.

...FINISH IT.

"Why me?" he muttered to himself.

No one else stands a chance against Zevel. You know it in your heart. Only you have the Fōkasu to combat his.

But the Raichu disliked using it. He didn't understand why he, of all Pokémon, was born with such a strange and mysterious power. A power that only Arceus should have had. A power so immense that it could tilt and alter the very world of Pokémon if it was abused.

Just like Zevel the Giratina, he could create life. All Karos the Raichu had to do was reach into his mind, create an image of a Pokémon in his mind, and summon them forward into reality, living, breathing, and ready to fight and defend whatever cause Karos decided on.

Even against Zevel, any and all of them would fight to the death for his intentions and his desires without question and without hesitation. But to Karos, it was traumatizing. Traumatizing to create and instill the gift of life to his dreams and his imagination to these new, legendary Pokémon, only to watch them get gutted and slaughtered in combat. It was like a piece of him died each and every time it happened. Jyrasee, Nimasel, Polisa, and all the others... gone. Slaughtered before his very eyes. They would have lived forever otherwise.

But Zevel. Zevel had no qualms about using his Fōkasu to sent countless hordes of abominations into war. They were so deranged and twisted that they could barely be called Pokémon. And Zevel felt no ping, no pain, no remorse for their slaughter and the sacrifice he made of them. To him, they were simply tools. But to Karos, his creations were his friends, his allies, his memories, and his companions. He could not bring himself to summon them only to die like lambs to the slaughter. And yet so much depended on his power to repel Zevel's legions. So much depended on him to fight, survive, and replace the original legendaries that Zevel had mindlessly slaughtered. Without them, the world would end and everything would spiral into chaos. And here he was, a single Raichu, standing at the end of all things. Holding the only keys that would bring balance back to the world.

It was then that someone else had climbed into his burrow. Karos looked and recognized it as Farrel, the old, white Zangoose that had been his mentor for many years. Farrel had seen and witnessed much of the horror that Karos was facing, but he had also seen a time and an era where there was once peace. An era where mankind still survived.

But his arrival now could only mean one thing.

"Karos, it's time," Farrel told the anxious Raichu. "We have tried to avoid forcing this upon you, but you're all that we have left."

It made him sick. Sick to think that he was going to have to use his Fōkasu against Zevel, and then face his fears. It was the only way to finish it.

He knew the plan. The only way to face Zevel was to enter his own new rendition of the Distortion Realm. He would need an unbroken, uncovered mirror to cross from the real world, also known as Riaru, into the new Kagami mirror realm that Zevel had discovered and infested. From there, he had to find Zevel and suspend him, trapping him or stunning him long enough to return back to Riaru and then break that mirror while Zevel was depicted and contained in its reflection. That was the only way to truly destroy him. But he had to be careful that the same wasn't done to him from the other side. If he was within range of the mirror and it was broken from the Kagami side, he would be shattered like glass.

If Karos didn't do this and attempt to defeat Zevel this way, then anywhere a reflective surface was made, be it in a mirror, a body of water, or ice, Zevel's legions could break out of the Kagami and into the real world to torment those that lived here. And there had been plenty of cases where Zevel's horrors have dragged those Pokémon who lived in the Riaru into the unknown, twisted world of the Kagami.

Every mirror and reflective surface would be like a door to them. Those that were broken or covered were unusable to them, hence why many living in the Riaru real world had covered their mirrors or hid them in boxes whenever they could. But that did not stop them from emerging from reflective surfaces like water.

The problem was that besides his reluctance of using Fōkasu, Karos had a sincere phobia of broken glass. A mission that entailed smashing a mirror was hell to someone like him who had severe spasmenagaliaphobia. And the very thought of him failing and being shattered was traumatizing.

"Karos..." Farrel spoke to the downcast Raichu. "I know this is hard."

"I keep imagining them ...in me!" Karos cried out as he shut his eyes. "So many jagged fragments. Everywhere around me. And in me. Sinking in, deeper and deeper. I try to pull them out but I'm just bleeding everywhere and soon they disappear where I can't reach them anymore!"

Farrel then felt compelled to reason with Karos. He knew he wasn't going to like this, but he had to understand there was a fine truth between reality and imagination.

"I want you to look at this," Farrel told Karos as he pulled out a single shard of broken glass out of his pouch.

The Raichu looked to see what the old Zangoose had presented before him and he immediately withdrew once he did.

"Farrel, please!" the Raichu pleaded. "Why are you doing this?"

"Just look at it," Farrel urged him. "You don't need to touch it. It won't cut you if you handle it carefully. See? Even as it rests in my paw, it doesn't cut me."

Karos took a deep breath and did as his old Zangoose friend had instructed. He was right. It was nothing more than a simple shard and he came to terms with the fact the substance of his nightmares was false. It didn't jump and stick itself into him. It didn't lunge with a mind of its own and bury itself into his flesh. While the edges were still sharp, careful handling made it harmless. His heavy breathing calmed down a bit and eventually Karos was able to relax with it even being there.

"How are you holding up?" Farrel asked.

"I'm okay," Karos replied with a nod.

"Good," Farrel nodded. "Come closer."

With a bit of reluctance at first, the orange mouse came closer and he saw nothing about the situation changed. The glass shard stayed still and didn't move an inch. And it hadn't done anything to Farrel's paws either.

"Now I want you to hold out your paws," Farrel instructed.

"No, please don't!" Karos pleaded, knowing exactly what he was going to try and do.

"Tell me," Farrel told the Raichu sincerely. "What do your fears tell you? Do they tell you this shard should be cutting my paws? Do they tell you this shard can move and behave with a malicious mind of its own? What do your fears say?"

Karos winced and then swallowed.

"...They're lying," Karos said.

"Precisely," Farrel nodded. "Now please, hold out your paws and dismiss the lies they are telling you."

Karos nodded and he held out his paws. Slowly and carefully, Farrel lightly and gently placed the shard in Karos's brown paws, and while Karos trembled a bit at first, eventually he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

He then pushed himself to look at it, and it was exactly as the old Zangoose said. The shard remained still, unmoving, and had not gained the sentience that Karos's nightmares had always feared. In his paws, it did no such thing and didn't even scratch him. He held it for a solid thirty seconds and eventually felt at ease.

"How are you holding up?" Farrel asked.

"I'm... I'm fine," Karos sighed before nodding.

"Good," Farrel smiled. "Do you think you could hold two of them, then?"

Karos shot Farrel a concerned look for just a moment, but then he dismissed it.

"I think so," Karos replied.

It was then that Farrel added a second shard, placing it besides the first. For just a slight moment, Karos felt a bit tense, but he came to terms that nothing about this would change. The first shard had done nothing, and this behaved exactly the same. Before long, Farrel challenged Karos to hold a third. And then a fourth. And in time, Farrel had filled Karos's paws with a small pile of glass shards and none of them had done anything to him. Farrel had even timed it and for a good five minutes, Karos's feelings of dread and fear were dismissed.

"It should settle your nerves for now," Farrel told Karos. "Hopefully enough to deal that final strike. Remember this moment and while this won't dispel all your fears overnight, practicing this simple task every day will."

Karos wasn't sure if he was ready for that, but he knew that could wait. He just needed to shut down his fears enough to strike the mirror at the precise moment he needed to.

Disposing of the shards into the trash bin helped Karos feel better, though he knew this was just the start. After following Farrel's lead, he followed him out of the burrow. Outside, the skies were still dark as they hovered over the small, innocent Pokémon village. The thunder rumbled in the clouds as the two of them made their way down the dirt paths to Farrel's small hut that looked like it had seen many years of time and age. Though it was old and worn much like the aged Zangoose himself, it still had a welcoming and homey feeling to it that helped Karos feel comfortable. Farrel gently opened the oaken door and the both of them stepped inside.

The interior of Farrel's hut was small and cozy, but only a single candle provided illumination. And while the simple wooden chairs and table as well as the small cloth bed made it feel reassuring, the thing that immediately caught Karos's attention was the flat, oval-shaped object at the other side of the room that was covered by a navy-blue blanket.

And Karos had recalled, every mirror had to be covered. An uncovered mirror instantly became a doorway between Riaru and Kigami to those that knew how to cross over. Ever since these darker times, these once everyday objects became the material of concern and dread. And while many were covered and stashed away, others were destroyed and permanently shut closed. And while Zevel's forces could still use any reflective surface, emerging from the reflection of the water or metal was not as easy as using a mirror. A murky reflection was a struggle to emerge from, but a clean and unaltered one was easy like gliding through air. But if the mirror was covered with a blanket or stashed away in a dark room or tight space, it was just as inaccessible as a locked door.

"Now then, the second part of getting you ready," Farrel told Karos as a light rumble echoed in the sky above. "Your Fōkasu."

"I know I need to use it..." Karos sighed, knowing what that would entail. "It's hard ...though."

"It is a great power," Farrel assured the Raichu. "I want you to distance yourself from these creations you will use in Kigami. These will not be the legends you will create to restore balance to the world. These should exist only to defeat Zevel and his abominations."

Karos nodded. He couldn't let himself become too attached to these creatures. The would need to exist only to fight and sacrifice themselves. The day he would use his Fōkasu to restore natural order would come later. Those legends could be created with sincerity and permanency. For now, he needed to create creatures without emotions. Without souls. Without putting his heart into them.

"Are you ready?" Farrel asked the Raichu, approaching the covered mirror.

"I know what I need to do," Karos agreed with a confident nod. "Thank you, Farrel. Thank you for getting me ready."

It was then that Farrel smiled, and then gently pulled the blanket away from the mirror. As Karos looked upon its reflective surface, he saw his own reflection for but a brief moment. Gaining the confidence he needed, he then breathed gently and then stepped inside, mentally preparing himself for the challenging battle that was to come...

Other: N/A

[arnisd]

Username: arnisd
Team: The Sabotage Squadron
Entry:
The actress

Spoiler:

She looked up, her feet sliding into a balanced stance, ready to receive a great force which could fling her backwards. Her arm raised, the light a bit blinding, she aimed it, as best as she could. The steamtech gauntlet was heavy, too heavy, making her have to support the arm, it was mounted on with her other. She readied the spell, channeling the steam from the core crystal placed at the side, the crystal glowing white as the power gathered, the gauntlet starting to shake violently.

‘Don’t drop it now!’ A voice shouted in her head, not her own, but that darn annoying voice of the psychic in front of her. His confident smirk, barely hidden away for anyone else, his prideful posture, his oh so arrogant hairstyle.

‘Shut it, I need to focus.’ She retorted, with her own psychic powers, not able to put much strength into those words through a smile or anything, her lips rather showing a struggle.

‘BOO!!’ He shouted, his eyes glowing a faint yellow and red. She slipped, her right foot just started sliding too far to the side, she had messed up. Her posture got broken, she couldn’t keep herself upright anymore, that metal gauntlet tilting her body.

With a loud metallic clank, the thing slammed onto the ground, taking her with it and causing her to fall onto her side. She felt a jolt of pain in her shoulder, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes as she tried to hold in the screams and rage she felt right about now.

“CUT CUT! CUUUT!!!! This is NOT how this scene is supposed to go! LEA why did you fall!?” George asked, well more so shouted as the lights dimmed, the smoke effects went down and the background illusions were terminated, the whole filming studio turning quiet as the director started a tantrum.

“I thought I hired professionals? Professional actors and mages!” He continued shouting, pausing to wait for a reply which he could pound into the ground, as he stood up from his chair and stomped the ground, readying the megaphone once again.

“I’m sorry George… I lost focus and started slipping… I got distracted.” She replied, the last part of her sentence carrying a grudge like, cold undertone. Her head turning from the director to Falluin, that darn elf, in front of her on the set looking as innocent as ever.

“Lea listen, I respect you I really do. BUT get your head into the GAME!!!” He shouted so hard the gnomes behind him even tried shielding their ears. Full of rage he plumped down into that chair of his again, the furniture creaking, probably not able to take much more of that.

“With all due respect George, perhaps we should cut her a break. We all know how badly her career has been going as off late. She really needs this to go well.” Falluin said, keeping his calm posture and confidently delivering those lines. Lea felt the ‘needs’ cut through her and sink her down to the ground more, a cold malevolent chill put behind that word aimed towards her.

“Yea, yea, we all know the story, young promising actress really breaking out of the mold with fabulous performances in her first few movies. I’m seeing those glimpses of talent, don’t get me wrong, but they’re all thrown away with mistake after mistake after mistake!” He shouted once more, head now buried into a hand and shaking. “We’re taking a break people! I think everyone can use it! Before I shout myself hoarse… Dragon keep up the smoke effects they’re great! Tone down the fire a bit though, I’ve seen some of the cables starting to melt! Cameramen and women, keep them steady! Dwarves and gnomes, camera three is reporting problems with the power and overheating, go look! Also check up on the fractal shield generator underneath the set, we can’t have that thing fail for this scene! Catering get the illusion grand mage a potion! And bring me something refreshing! We begin again in fifteen! Take a break!” He shouted some more, his voice just not giving out yet.

Lea pulled her hand out of the gauntlet, flexing her arm a bit and massaging her wrist. One of the minotaurs walked up and easily picked up that heavy chunk of metal, just causing her to feel even weaker than before. Turning away from the grinning elf, she walked of set and towards her dressing room. She passed a group of pixies from catering and accepted the water bottles they were ‘carrying’, well more so floating alongside them through some magic. She opened the door, the star on front with her name engraved on it really didn’t make her feel any prouder, it made her feel a bit sick instead. She placed the bottle to her side, heard the door shut itself and sank down in her chair. Hands pressed against her forehead and tears welling up a bit. She had to keep them in, they’d ruin the makeup and it wouldn’t be able to be redone in the short break.

“Well here we are again, I can’t say I blame myself completely… there’s just something with that Falluin that’s getting me off my work.” She sighs, raising her head and looking at the mirror she had been talking to, a hand softly rubbing down it. “Hmm I must really be feeling down, talking to my mirror image again… it’s almost like when I was a child. Young Lea’s only friend.” She chuckled, though it was more of a sad one then one from amusement.

‘My, my, calling an object your friend. That’s quite unique, has it ever said anything back?’ Falluin ‘said’, he wasn’t really in the room, but she just heard his voice in her head again.

She turned around, unlike when he did this when he was on set, he made a small projection of himself inside her room whenever she was alone. “It’s been more comforting than you have. What’s your deal huh? All these small accidents I’ve been having on and off set… ever since I got paired with you for acting. Do you take joy in ruining my career?” She asked out loud, the room’s walls were thick enough to not have anyone hear her luckily.

‘Joy? Well I suppose I do take some form off amusement from all of this. But it’s something much bigger than that, much more important. I live for this! I live because of this! These negative emotions, these stressful environments… those tears…’ He said, his head tilting and an arm slowly raising as he aimed an opened hand at her eyes. The last part again having that malevolent undertone, that cold breeze, something more demonic. ‘They feed … me… Sustain me... It’s nothing personal, you’re just another meal for me to devour, I’ve done this dozens of times and will do it dozens of times over.’

“You’re a monster. I won’t let you walk over me like that.” Lea said, trying to find confidence in her own words, raising her posture in her chair.

‘Like your own family walks over you? Poor Lea the only normal girl in a family of geniuses. Your sister an arch mage, your brother head of the red knight order, your father count, your mother fashion designer known throughout the world. And then there’s you… alone… afraid… you want someone’s approval, someone to pay attention to you. But just average school results, average physique, the third in line for succession… the only talent you ever stumbled upon was acting, deceiving, well two sides of the same coin really.’ He said, shrugging his shoulders and pouting his lips. The projection walking closer, having no mirror image it tried patting Lea, only to have the hand go through her. ‘So you decide to use this talent, to not fall behind, to have people around you… to not be alone.’

“How do you know so much about me?” Lea asked, confused and certainly getting annoyed, perhaps even angry at Falluin for digging around in her private life, the paparazzi were bad enough already.

‘Everything to spice up the meal, to tip you over that edge, to make you crash on set and make it appear you couldn’t handle the pressure. If you botch up this performance, with your current bad rep, you’ll be unable to ever find a roll again. You and I are the same, I’ve just realized things in a different way. There’s only room for one in this line of work and I am that one, like I said, it’s nothing personal just business…’ The projection faded, the voice stopped, the horn announcing the end of the break sounded and Lea got up, quickly taking a sip from that water and giving herself one last look in the mirror.

“I won’t let you beat me like that.” She muttered, her eyes showing strength, determination and a hint of anger.

“Let’s do this again! Lea if you don’t do it right this time, I’m going to have to find a different actress. I can’t keep delaying this much longer. There’s a lot of money on the line and the budget can’t handle the lead actress not performing and ruining sales.” George states, after Lea walked onto the set and the special effects were started, readying the area for filming another go.

“I won’t let you down George, not this time.” Lea replied, turning herself to face Falluin, the minotaur helping her put the gauntlet on.

“Remember you don’t have to hold back the blast, the fractal shields will deflect the steam to all sides creating a smoke screen, just millimeters away from where Falluin is standing. They’re top of the line so they can take a punch. Alright confrontation between good and evil, take… 64 at this point. Go!” George shouted as the room went silent, the fire wisps turned on their lights and the cameras started rolling.

“I will end this today demon!” Lea shouted, putting some despair in her voice, her character having lost her best friend to him a few moments ago.

“Ha…hahaHA! Take your best shot girl, you can’t kill me with that! I’ll even stand still for that slow attack of yours. Hit me with your best shot!” Falluin shouted, his arms lifted upwards and his face showing complete confidence.

She looked up, stomping her feet into the ground, ready to receive a great force which could fling her backwards. Her arm raised, the light a bit blinding, but she saw her enemy perfectly. The steamtech gauntlet was heavy, but she felt the strength in her arm to lift it, using her other hand to aim. She readied the spell, channeling the steam from the core crystal placed at the side, the crystal glowing white as the power gathered, the gauntlet starting to shake violently.

‘Hmm how will I make you screw up this time….’ Falluin said in her head, her eyes full of focus looking at him, her rage building, the crystal glowing yellow.

‘Lea hey LEAaaa… you’re making the spell to powerful.’ Falluin states a few moments later, the crystal glowing red. He tried keeping posture for the scene, but he sounded concerned telepathically.

‘HEY WOMAN! THAT’S ENOUGH ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME!’ He shouted, Lea flinching a bit from that, but staying on focus.
“Today is the day, you’ll pay for those you’ve ruined before. For everything you’ve put me through. YOU DEMON!!” She shouted, as the crystal colored purple and the spell was shot, traveling through the tube in the gauntlet. The weapon, at this point, barely keeping itself together, as Lea felt her feet sliding backwards, her posture barely able to keep her upright. The stream of heavily infused magic steam busted out and travelled at high speed to Falluin. The stream seemingly crashed into the shields, the curtain of steam blinding all vision and acting like a smoke screen. The once silent filming studio was in uproar as everyone coughed and had to find cover from the hot white gas. The set trembled, Lea trembled as the force behind the spell was nearly crushing her, she felt the strain on her arm growing, but she held on for better or worse.

“You’ve done it now little girl.” Falluin said, as the smoke cleared, a burn scar on his right cheek and the costume he was wearing torn away around his right shoulder and neck. His eyes were flickering, going from normal elven eyes, to demonic. His eye white turning grey, his pupils narrowing into slits and his irises turning into a glowing yellow. As if an illusion was being lifted long demonic horns appeared from his forehead and his skin turned red, a demon’s tail even swayed behind him.

“Those are some amazing props… the illusion mage is working overtime.” George whispered to someone, as he saw the view. “What do you mean he isn’t doing that?”

“Revealing your true self now huh? No more games?” Lea said, trying to act strong, as she attempted raising her arm, but it was stuck to the floor, together with the gauntlet. Her legs were trembling, her breathing heavy, her hair messed up and she was sweating like crazy, both from the heat generated from the spell, as her own exhaustion.

He started laughing, a maniacle, evil laugh, heard throughout the studio. “You’ve made a big mistake, little hero. You’ve made me your enemy.” He nearly shouted, certainly showing signs of anger now, his eyes were trembling, his muscles flexing, he could barely contain himself. A smile, nay a snarl on his face, showing of some rather impressive fangs.

“Wasn’t I already your enemy?” Lea asked, pulling her arm free from the gauntlet and landing on her back, it ached so much, but it luckily didn’t seem burned.

“No…no… little girl, you were merely a meal for me, an animal struggling before it gets butchered and cooked. You however just got promoted and I’m going to use everything I have, to crush you.” He replied, raising a hand and balling a fist with all his strength.
“Well that just means I’m going to have to be serious as well, like you said, we are the same.” Lea retorted, her eyes flickering, as the camera focused on her face suddenly shut itself off. The same demonic eyes appearing as Falluin’s, the two smirking at one another as they locked sights.

“Cut!!! Brilliant!! I love the improvisations you two made, they stuck so well to the script, yet were so different and felt more earnest! This is what I’ve been expecting this whole-time people!!” George shouted, as he jumped up happily for once. “Keep it up you two, I hope you’ll show the same skills in scenes to come from now on?”

“Don’t worry George…” Lea replied, her eyes going back to ‘normal’. “Yea don’t worry George…” Falluin said, putting his own illusion back on. “We will…”

Other: N/A

[Cleobel]

Username: Cleobel
Team: Agents of the Shadows
Entry: The Hidden Power of Love

Spoiler:

Once upon a time lived a Vespiquen and a Trash Cloak Wormadam who were in love with each other.
One day, they were relaxing together in a forest when Vespiquen was suddenly hit by a super effective move. Then, a scary Magmortar captured her in a net.
"My Hidden Power is the best! Now that I have finally caught some male Combees and a Vespiquen, I will be able to start my own hive soon!", the Fire-type Pokemon bragged.
"Release her, she is my girlfriend!", Wormadam demanded.
"Please help me, Wormadam!", Vespiquen implored, as Magmortar was running away with her.
Wormadam tried to follow the Fire-type Pokemon, but he was too fast for her. Fortunately, he was heavy enough to leave visible footprints on the ground, so the pink Pokemon could know where he had gone to. As she was following the footprints, she tried to figure out a strategy : "If I want to release Vespiquen from the net, I should defeat that cruel Magmortar first. However, I’m terrified of fire, especially the Flame Body ability and Fire-type moves, in addition to having a double weakness against these moves. Consequently, I should use Protect frequently and rely on moves that don’t make contact. I could also use Mirror Shot to lower Magmortar’s accuracy. As for Hidden Power, I’m thankful to have a Water-type Hidden Power, which is super effective against Fire-type Pokemon. I don’t know which type Magmortar’s Hidden Power is, but I know that it’s super effective against Vespiquen. If he had an Ice-type Hidden Power, it would be super effective against my girlfriend, but not very effective against me… That’s why I really hope he has an Ice-type Hidden Power".

When Wormadam finally reached Magmortar’s den, he explained his evil plan : "So, you came here to save your beloved girlfriend? It’s too late, she is mine now. I’m going to start my own hive with her and with the male Combees. I’m going to take all the honey the hive will produce. Then, I will sell it and I will become rich!".
"Help!!!", Vespiquen and the Combees screamed.
"Release them now!", Wormadam shouted.
"Of course not! I’m going to destroy you, stupid worm!", Magmortar raged.

This is when a battle started between him and Wormadam.
The Fire-type Pokemon began with Flamethrower, so the worm-like Pokemon used Protect, as she was afraid of fire. That was not a problem for Magmortar, who used Flamethrower again. Wormadam was terrified, but she eventually managed to avoid the attack.
"You should use your mirror power now. Otherwise, you may not be able to avoid the next Flamethrower attacks.", Vespiquen suggested. As a result, her girlfriend used Mirror Shot, which lowered Magmortar’s accuracy.
During the next turn, he tried to use Flamethrower again, but she used Protect again because she was still afraid of fire. She was wondering if she could really win this battle. However, she had to keep on fighting for her beloved girlfriend and for the Combees.
Suddenly, Vespiquen exclaimed : "Use your Hidden Power!". Magmortar, who was very proud of his Hidden Power, used it. The attack was successful, but it was not very effective on Wormadam. "It is an Ice-type Hidden Power, which is great!", the pink Pokemon thought. Then, she used her Water-type Hidden Power, which was super effective against the cruel Pokemon.
During the next few turns, Vespiquen kept on telling both Pokemon to use their Hidden Power. Even though Magmortar’s Hidden Power was not very effective against Wormadam, he kept on using that move because he was so proud of it. Sometimes, Wormadam managed to avoid the attack thanks to Magmortar’s lowered accuracy, but even when she didn’t, it was not a big problem for her. Meanwhile, her Hidden Power inflicted a lot of damage on him. Eventually, she managed to defeat the Fire-type Pokemon.

While Magmortar was unconscious, Wormadam quickly opened the nets.
"Thank you very much.", the Combees whispered before flying away.
"Thank you very much, Wormadam! You saved me and you fought very bravely!", Vespiquen thanked.
"No worries, Vespiquen! Thank you for helping me during the battle! Let’s get out of here before Magmortar gets up again.", Wormadam replied.
The worm-like Pokemon climbed on her girlfriend’s back and the bee-like Pokemon flew away. That’s how the couple got out of Magmortar’s den as quickly as possible and without leaving footprints. They lived happily ever after… and did not have any offspring.

Other: I don't know what you mean by "Other".

[K'sariya]

Username: K’sariya
Team: Avalon Apostles
Entry: Fusion

Spoiler:

“He’s eaten the sun, mi’lord.”

Frozen horns capture the firelight as slumbering head raises, turns. Yellow eyes, pupiless, glow a bit brighter as he focuses on the familiar figure sitting before him in the vast cavern. His thunderous growl echoes deeply, infinitely, against the icy walls.

Slim muzzle rises and she gazes back steadily with ruby eyes, eyes that flash with the fire that swirls slowly between them. Before her, a sturdy wooden staff spins slowly in the air, fire licking at one end. Her left ear flicks. Its oversized tuft of auburn ear fur billows behind it, lagging behind the motion. The Delphox lets the silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames, settle for a few more moments. Then--

“Would you like to see?” Her voice echoes in his thoughts again, softer this time. One of his feet takes a heavy step forward, its three claws grating against the elevated pillar of ice that he rests upon. He takes a look around the fire-lit dome of ice surrounding them, gazing apprehensively at the glassy darkness beyond, then long neck cranes his ice-plated head low, toward her.

Voice so guttural, gravelled, and deep that when it booms out into the cavern, it’s almost indistinguishable from his previous growls. “Yes.”

She closes her eyes. Psychic spin of the flame gradually slows, then reverses. It picks up speed until the disc of devouring flame forms shadows, then shapes, then images within its portal. Kyurem takes another step, cold heart heavy with dread.

A lion crafted from golden steel, mane bursting like the sun, thunders with long strides across the darkness. Thick black armor locks around pure blue eyes like an obsidian mask. Shadowed arms, clawed like wings, spread from its similarly shackled back. The beast stops in the black void, swings its head from side to side, as if looking for something, then brings cerulean eyes to meet its viewers’.

The Delphox gasps, eyes flying open as she brings furred arms clapped close about the fire. It extinguishes and plunges them into darkness. Through the cavern crafted from his own icy essence, he feels her paws slip, and the ice behind her erupts to catch her fall backwards. He feels her catch herself on the chunk, though her stick clatters to the ground. The beast rumbles, and this time, there’s something comforting about the sound.

He knows what he must do. “Summon Reshiram,” comes the order, as Kyurem turns to lunge from the platform. His landing shakes the massive cavern of ice.

“I don’t think she’ll--”

“Now, Kichonne.”

Unflinchingly, she glares, then slowly lowers herself down upon her crossed legs. She retrieves her staff, takes a deep breath, then exhales flame gently onto the limb. Palm holds the staff outward and it drifts, weightlessly, still for a moment before it begins to spin…

***

His domain parts for him, ice crackling and popping as it seems to peel away from his very gaze, tunneling him up, up, upward. In the pitch black darkness, he doesn’t even realize that he’s close to the outside until he hears the low drone of the howling wind. It echoes down the path he’s left in his wake, hollow and mournful like the haunting calls of wind whispering through a seashell. He presses on, and opens the tunnel to the weather. Snow blasts his features, and he takes the blow without flinching, only pausing to realize fully how much worse things had become. He steps out into the blizzard created by his own domain.

Whiteouts, the humans had once called these storms. Snow so thick and driving that it was all you could see, unable to tell up from down and left from right. But now, it was only black, without an ounce of light for even the snow to reflect.

Nostrils set on draconic maw flare, then from them bursts a snort of air. In the pitch, the blizzard recoils from his form, exploding away from him as if it’d been struck. It casts itself out a mile, its whirling edges waiting far in the distance, hiding his domain from the outside while giving him a clear, funneled view up into the sky within.

There’s nothing. It’s still black, like tar. If it weren’t for the roar of the wind moving to the distance, he wouldn’t even be able to tell that he’d done anything at all. It makes sense, though--without Solgaleo to chase the sun, the moon had no brilliance to reflect, leaving a dark and empty sky. Even if Lunala were foolish enough to herd the moon and make herself vulnerable to the light-devouring Necrozma, there wouldn’t be any light to shine. Kyurem’s yellow eyes narrow, adjusting again to the light just enough to be able to see the faint, almost nonexistent twinkle of the stars. He’s surprised that Necrozma hadn’t eaten, too.

Far off, an orange glow illuminates the towering wall of the blizzard, a lick of fire blasting through it. Good. Another fiery glow dances on his own icy wings behind him. Kichonne emerges behind him, ablaze staff clenched in her paws.

”She’s here,” comes the telepathic message, dryly. Kyurem’s underbitten jaw juts forward, sets hard with his resolve.

The pure white dragon alights before them, wingarms scattering powdered snow. Blue gaze glares at them beneath her long, split crest, its ends billowing behind her. Her light emanates from her thick, cylindrical tail, glowing with fire that bursts from between the tail’s containing bands. The fresh snow melts a bit beneath her two legs from the heat.

In the cold, steam pours from heated form. ”Kyurem. You’re sure that we’re safe here?”

He nods. ”The blizzard protects your light from his view, as long as you were careful outside.”

Reshiram gives a soft snort of derision. If things were less dire, perhaps she’d be more insulted by the implication that she’d be the one who would get them killed. She knows why she’s here, but she asks anyway. ”You called?”

”We have to stop him.”

Reshiram’s tail flares more fiercely as her expectations are confirmed. ”Why we? You know it’s the humans who woke him. Let them face their own consequences, let them stop him themselves.“

”They don’t have that kind of power.”

”And we do?”

Silence.

“...perhaps not,” he ventures gruffly, “but is this—“ Heavy skull swings to gesture at the imprisoning clouds that whirl around them in the distance. “—how you want to live?” If there was one thing that he knew Reshiram was afraid of, it was darkness, and begin consumed by it.

The thin lines of Reshiram’s mouth twisted downward. She sighs.

“Alright, then.” Head lowers, snowy wings folding back against her sides. Eyes drift close, then one opens to peer at him. “Try not to get us both killed, Kyurem.”

He nods. Stance widens, bracing his heavy form against the ground. Icy appendages on his back contort, cocking forward. Brilliant blue electricity sparks between the icicles at their ends, lunging across his form. He closes his eyes. Streaks of frozen light surge forward and arc about the other dragon’s large form. They tighten about her, constricting, and sap the fire from her blazing tail, pulling it back to Kyurem.

Their bodies begin to glow, the light intensifying into an all-devouring light, brighter than this world has seen in a long time, so bright that it pierces the thick wall of snow and clouds curled about them. When it fades, only one remains.

Kyurem’s stance has straightened, his stature grown taller. Left arm has extended to one with a white-feathered wing, the left half of his crown flowing back in a billowing plume. His right blossoms into a bracer of ice.

A horrendous screech tears the world asunder, a cry so piercing and wrenching that even Kyurem White cannot help but flinch. Heart thunders within frozen chest at the sound. He turns, slashing his arm out in Kichonne’s direction. She gives a knowing nod, then begins whirling her flaming staff more fiercely. A funnel of flame whirls from it, blasting through the snow and down to the neglected grasses beneath.

The ring of fire circles them. Kyurem dips his head to her in thanks, and then she withdraws into the shelter of the cave. He closes the entrance behind her.

Steel lion appears above, its steel and obsidian body glimmering in the firelight. It touches down in the snow several yards away. The light of their fusion had drawn a visitor.

Kyurem stares into the glossy black mask, so smooth and crystalline that it reflects his features back to him. He stares at the mixture of his and Reshiram’s expressions, a rare mixture of emotions coursing through him. They would either save the human race from themselves, or they would die trying, though he’d be foolish to think that they were doing this for fully selfish reasons.

”Your creator would be disappointed in you,” Kyurem says. The great steel lion gives a snort of contempt. The sound rings and echoes clearly within glassy mask.

”I am my own creator.” That same screech from earlier echoes beneath lilting, alien voice, quieter, but still enough to make Kyurem’s ears ring.

Here, staring at the beast that has devoured Solgaleo against his will, Kyurem sees that it is this that he could have become. Had Arceus not intervened when the humans had fused the power of the DNA splicer into him, he might have become just like Necrozma: hungry, insatiable, tearing the world asunder. Somewhere within, he feels pity for the alien creature, the alien creature that is not so different from him.

He sees himself reflected in obsidian mask in the moment before it charges.

Kyurem’s foot stomps heavily on the snow, summoning ice from beneath. Pillars rip from the ground in front of him, blocking the lion’s lunge, but not for long—it swings its black steel tail into the pillar as it lands. The ice shatters, shards flying, but Kyurem doesn’t flinch. He parts his maw and from it ripples a roar.

The sound booms across the snow, echoing back on the distant walls. Necrozma takes a step back, its own crystalline body reflecting the Noble Roar painfully about it. It’s then that Kyurem ends the calm, and all at once the blizzard comes rushing in once more, roaring like a beast finally let loose.

In the cover of the whiteout, things fall dark. He shrouds himself in snow as a soft orange glow whisks over his body, a deep burgundy aura wrapping about him as he charges the Ice Burn.

A blast of metal bursts through the snow. The Mirror Shot cracks square against his shoulder. Icy left bracer shatters, its shards ripped away by the wind. He reels with a cry, upper body curling forward in pain for only a moment before black shadow streaks from the darkness.

Kyurem coats his left wing arm with steel just in time to raise it up to shield his body. The lion collides with it, metallic mane braced against Kyurem’s wing. The force drives the ice dragon’s feet into the snow, but he feels himself slipping, faltering, sliding back. Necrozma surges forward, breaking the guard with a toss of his head, sending him flying hard onto his back and tail. He lunges forward to finish the downed dragon, but pillars of ice and rock erupt once more beneath the leaping creature. The ring of ice on metal screeches out as the glacier impacts the alien’s stomach. Necrozma lands on the snow with a thud.

The dragon stumbles upright, orange glow sweeping about him once more, and this time, he makes it—the Ice Burn forms a ball of freezing light in front of him, and he launches it at Dusk Mane. In the glow, he sees the lion rise, its maw gape—

—and then the ball has stopped in front of him, and it’s shrinking as Dusk Mane Necrozma devours the light.

Stunned, Kyurem summons the blizzard’s full force. The wind screams as it whirls snow around them, but the alien creature isn’t deterred. Kyurem charges forward, the fire of a Fusion Flare erupting from his tail, charging what he hopes will be the only thing that can stop the inevitable—

Necrozma reaches the threshold, and explodes with blinding light.

”Now, Kyurem!” Kichonne’s voice thunders in his head.

Kyurem blasts blue-hot fire through the creature as it ascends.

The blizzard clears, and the world, illuminated with light, grows still.

Ultra Necrozma hovers, its tall, spindly-winged form seemingly frozen in time above them, stories tall. It’s very being, formed with unbridled light, drifts in the air, split in two by the fiery blow that had torn it asunder mid-burst. Slowly, the two pieces slide apart, and then in another explosion, the beast imparts the light that it had stolen back to the world.

Where Necrozma had been standing, Solgaleo opens his eyes, and where Kyurem had stood, he stands now with Reshiram, leaning heavily on the white dragon beside him.

The sun-chaser staggers to his feet. Blue eyes turn upon the two dragons before him, and the creature, ever prideful, offers only a begrudging nod of thanks before taking an unsteady step, then bounding away.

“You almost lost,” Reshiram observes lowly. Kyurem gives a soft snort, bumping his head against her stomach before pushing carefully away from her.

”But I didn’t.”

They’re interrupted by a light in the sky as the sun finally rises.

Other:

Spoiler:

I’ve been on a Necrozma kick recently, so a light/dark theme was a perfect way for me to fulfill that. Kyurem/Necrozma are parallel in their fusing powers. Reshiram acts out of fear of the darkness, and Necrozma out of fear of the light.

Sad I had to rush this in the end to meet the deadline (had to make a long drive yesterday, and was carsick the whole time so didn’t get to work on it like I wanted to). But hopefully it’s not too bad. Thanks for hosting <3

[LKWayvern]

Taking a pause from my reading and scoring to ask-- why are there so many Avalon Apostles? Did y'all coordinate an assault on this event specifically or something?

[VeloJello]

Taking a pause from my reading and scoring to ask-- why are there so many Avalon Apostles? Did y'all coordinate an assault on this event specifically or something?

Unless they're staging a coup, I don't think so? XD I think we ended up being the most populous team, is all.

[Noblejanobii]

Username: Noblejanobii
Team: Avalon Apostles
Entry:

Spoiler:

Amy threaded the needle carefully, making the red string was set before continuing to sew. She was almost finished with the last outfit for her clothing line. She was supposed to present this line to a panel of judges tomorrow. It was part of an intense competition amongst many designers from around the world. Amy had made it into the finals and was competing against one other designer. This was her chance into the big leagues, and she wasn’t able to give it up for anything in the world, not when she had the opportunity to design for gods just out of her reach.

Amy leaned back and sighed, looking over her finished product. The brilliant red dress had been inspired by a pilot’s outfit, with long sleeves that were shaped similar to the wings on a plane. The whole line had actually be inspired by D&D characters she and her friends had conceived. This particular dress was based on her own character, dubbed the “Red Baroness”. She had picked this as the inspiration because she felt it would put the most emotion behind her work, but Amy was worried it wouldn’t be enough. She let out a slow breath as she glanced over all the other outfits in the room. Tomorrow was the big day.

Amy stood up and packed up her things. Now she had to spend the rest of her night working herself up to tomorrow. The one major downside to these competitions was her immense stage fright. While it was easy for her to perform in front of her friends, in front of a live studio audience was a whole other deal. She had a ritual for it though, so everything would be alright. Amy nodded to herself, repeating the phrase in her head as she left.

Nichols watched as Amy exited her studio. She didn’t notice the other designer as she left for the night. The poor delusional girl had somehow made it this far in the competition. As much as Nichols wanted to deny her talent, it would be foolish not to recognize it. They had the same power and skill in fashion design, it was just a matter of expression. While this girl used her talent to create costumes for magicians and other performers, a true creator, like himself, would only create art. And that was why Amy had to go.

Nichols stopped the door from closing and slipped inside the designer studio. He gazed over the various pieces of clothing and shook his head. Beautiful work. Too bad it had to go. Nichols noticed a pair of scissors next to the full length mirror. He picked up the scissors and noticed his reflection in the glass. He smiled at it. Good. He looked as pretty as ever. Nichols walked over to the striking red dress that looked just finished and opened up the scissors, then got to work. He smiled wider as the fabric gracefully fell to the floor. In a matter of minutes, all the outfits had been damaged, ad his work was done.

Nichols looked at his reflection in the scissors one more time before setting them down. Straightening his clothes and hair, the fashion designer exited the room and made his way towards his home for the night. Tomorrow was the big day. He could not and would not lose to some… impoverished wannabe with an eye for design. No one else would ever challenge him anyway and he wanted to keep it that way. Tears made for better pictures anyway.

***

Amy gasped as she entered her studio. Her sewing kit dropped and exploded on the floor, needles and thread scattering everywhere as Amy stared in shock at the remains of her designs. They had been sliced to ribbons, barely resembling the outfits they had once been. Amy stepped closer to the red dress she had finished the previous night, the outfit she had been the most proud of. She barely recognized the seams she had spent hours sewing. Whoever had done this had not only done it intentionally, but knew what they were doing. There was no way to repair all the outfits in time for the competition. Amy looked at her watch then towards the mirror nearby. She was going to have to confront the judges. One of her competitors did this, and she had a feeling it was Nichols. He was the only one with active motive after all. But confrontation… speaking her mind… this wouldn’t be easy. She could feel her fear’s icy fingers clenching her heart already. It would only grow worse as she pursued this. But she had to. There was no alternative.

Amy watched her reflection take a deep breath before closing her eyes and exhaling. She could do this. Turning heel to exit her studio, Amy paused. She looked at the red dress again and returned it. She carefully removed it from its stand and brought it with her as she walked down the hall. Amy slowed as she got closer to the offices for the staff of the competition. The chilling fingers of fear squeezed her, causing her to shiver. Amy took a step back and nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice called to her from behind. “Oh, Amy! What are you doing out of your studio? Shouldn’t you be preparing for the show?” Amy turned and saw Nichols standing behind her. His arms were tucked neatly behind his back, his hair gelled down to perfection, and his glasses resting on the end of his nose as he stared down at her with a smug smile.

Amy’s grip on her dress tightened and her mouth twisted into a snarl as her fear quickly morphed into anger. She held up her dress and snapped, “You did this!” Nichols gasped, putting a hand on his chest in offense. “Amy, I never suspected you to be the type. Were you not able to finish your line in time? So you destroyed your own robes to pin the blame on me?” Nichols shook his head. “I’m shocked at you, Amy. I really thought you had a shot in the fashion world but… not if you behave like this.”

Amy stared at Nichols, unsure of how to react to that. Had she been wrong? Was he not the culprit? But she hadn’t done it so… who did? Amy shook her head and growled, “Okay fine, so maybe you didn’t do it. But I’m still reporting this.”

“Ah ah ah.” Nichols shook his finger and said, “Don’t you remember? They said at the beginning you would take full responsibility for any damage to your clothes. If you report, you forfeit.” Nichols shrugged and tilted his head to the side. “Looks like you’re out of options little girl. Hope you can repair the those beautiful rags of yours.”

Amy stared as Nichols walked away. Fury exploded inside her body as she nearly ripped the dress in her hands. She exhaled hard and tapped her foot. Was he right? Could she really not report this? Could she repair everything in time? Amy looked at the nearest clock. She had twelve hours. Amy nodded. If she had help she could do this. Taking her phone out of her pocket, Amy began to walk towards her studio. She listened as the other end rang twice.

“Hello?” a voice answered.

“Theresa,” Amy said, “Gather the others, I need some help.”

***

Ember whistled as she and the others entered the room. “Yikes,” she mumbled, “They did a number on your line.”

“Isn’t it against the rules to have us help?” Theresa asked as she walked up to the shirt and skirt based on herself.

“Technically, yes,” Amy answered, already working on mending the red dress. “But so long as you don’t do any of the actual sewing we should be fine. Just set everything up for me. Thread the needles, set up the machines, etc. All hands on deck. It’s going to be speedy but steady.”

Cruise clapped his hands. “Right, got it. Let’s win this competition.”

The three helpers broke and began to set everything for Amy. Cruise worked on threading the needles, his eyesight the best out of all of them. Ember looked over the outfits and picked the ones with the easiest mending jobs to feed to Amy first. Theresa kept the room cool, ensuring none of the machinery overheated as it worked.

Amy adjusted her glasses, ensuring she was able to see the thread properly see she switched between machine and hand threaded. Each outfit was unique but she remembered the patterns well. The damage was plenty, with some outfits appearing totally different after they were mended. The seconds ticked away into minutes, and then into hours. All nervous eyes were on the clock as the deadline drew closer.

Amy held her breath to keep the hem steady as she patched a sea green dress. It was now substantially shorter than before, but with the way it was hemmed, it now gave the effect of sea foam at the bottom of the dress. Honestly, Nichols had done her a favor with this outfit.

Amy leaned back as she removed the dress from the machine, examining it to ensure nothing else needed to be done with it. She nodded and held it out to Theresa. “Okay Ember, bring me the next one.”

“That’s it,” Ember said, “You’ve somehow managed to mend them all.” She looked at the clock. “But at a cost…”

Amy’s head snapped to the clock. “Crap!” she shouted. She stood up and pointed to the dress hanging on the door. “Theresa, help me change. Cruise, Ember, grab two of the racks. We were supposed to be out there half an hour ago. Pray they haven’t disqualified me.”

The three helpers quickly moved to their positions and it wasn’t long before Amy was dashing through the halls of the arena. A stage manager spotted her and grabbed her roughly. “Where have you been? You’re late! They’re about to declare Nichols the winner. Go go go!”

The stage manager shoved Amy out into the light. She immediately froze. She hadn’t been able to prepare herself. The chilling claws of fear shank into her heart and squeezed. She became short of breath as she felt all eyes on her. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. She couldn’t breathe. Amy stumbled and started to run off stage. She couldn’t do this! Everything was ruined!

“Amy! AMY!” Amy lifted her head and was barely able to make out Theresa standing off stage. Amy shook her head and mouthed “I can’t do this.” Theresa stamped her foot and started to walk onto the stage when the stage manager grabbed her.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t go out there,” he said.

Theresa bared her teeth at the stage manager. “Watch me,” she growled as she shoved the man off of her. She ran out onto the stage and grabbed Amy’s arms. “Shh shh, it’s okay, Amy. You can do this. This is your dream, remember?”

Amy shook her head again. “I-I can’t. Everything is ruined. Let’s just go home.”

Theresa pat Amy’s arm and smiled. “If that’s what you really want, then okay. But, think about how hard you worked to get here. You just spent the last twelve hours straight working to save those outfits. Don’t you want to show the fruits of your labor?” Theresa linked her arm with Amy’s. “I’ll be right here, okay?”

Amy looked at their arms before nodding. “You’re… you’re right. Let’s go.”

Theresa walked Amy further onto the stage. Nichols stood smirking as he looked over the hastily altered clothes that were currently being modeled. “Is this the best you have?” he asked.

“After what you did, yes,” Amy answered meekly. She looked out to the judges. They didn’t seem impressed. Amy squeezed Theresa’s hand and watched them nervously from the stage. She was still frightened out of her mind, her legs barely functional. But with Theresa there, at least she could somewhat stand up to the evil villain that she was now faced with.

As the models exited the stage, the judges signaled for Amy and Nichols to come forward. Amy clung to Theresa tightly as they walked to the end of the stage. The head judge, Minos, stood up. He was known for being the most critical of the judges that competitors faced in the fashion industry. He could make or break someone’s career.

Minos cleared his throat and stared between the three that stood before him. “I must say, Mr. Jenson, you work was impressive as always. You seem to just have a muse in your head spouting constant inspiration.” Nichols puffed out his chest and gave Amy a smug glance. “However, I must admit, we are all much more impressed with Miss Risa's work.”

“H-Huh?” Amy stuttered out.

“I’m sorry,” Nikols interrupted, “What? Her outfits are practically rags!”

“No thanks to you,” Minos answered, “We had planned to disqualify you as soon as the incident was reported, but it never was. Instead, Miss Risa worked all day to repair the damage you had done. While her outfits were much more beautiful prior to your wreckage, Miss Risa turned the outfits into something quite admirable. Overall, out of the two of you, we feel she is the true victor here, the true hero.”

Theresa gasped and grinned at Amy. She hugged her tightly. “You did it!”

Amy split into a large smile and cheered with her girlfriend. “I did it! I did it!” She laughed and squeezed Theresa.

Minos approached them on the stage and held out his hand to Amy. “Congratulations, young lady. I look forward to seeing how you overcome future evils in the future."

Other: Barely had time to write this with work but it's DONE! GAH!

[LKWayvern]

That's four of you Avalon Apostles people! How many are even in your group!?

(While I'm here-- 4/6 entries read and commentated on, but will hold off until the deadline before actually scoring them.)

[Coru]

Username: Coru
Team: Sabotage Squadran
Entry:
The link
This story does have dark parts to it that include death/murder. There's no graphic detail and the parts that mention it are brief but just as a warning to people. I did keep it PG 13 but wanted to warn people.

Spoiler:

It was dark, the atmosphere grim. The intense silence beckoned Addie to follow. Fumbling around the house, she found herself at her parent’s bedroom. It was so dark, but somehow a silhouette in the room was visible, as if void of all light. It seemed much darker than everything else in the room. “Mommy?” She whispered. “Mommy, is that you?”. The figure turned with great haste. She couldn’t make out the face but she could see that the figure had bold wild eyes and a huge toothy grin. His teeth, gold and yellow, gleamed in the moonlight. Addie then looked over to the bed. Her eyes had adjusted enough to make out the scene in the bedroom. Streaks of red lined her parent’s bed and on the headboard. Lying in the middle were her parents, motionless and with a look of pure fear frozen on their faces. As the figure grew closer, Addie screamed. Her scream echoed through the house but then a voice boomed for all angles.
“Addie. Addie wake up. It’s a nightmare wake up”

Addie leaped out of bed, sweat dripping down her brow and heart pumping so hard she thought it would burst. “Addie are you ok?” Morty asked, looking concerned.
She nodded back. “I was dreaming about that night.”
Morty sighed and tensed up. “I wish I was there. I would have ripped that man apart!”
Addie glared at her. “Well you weren’t were you! You were asleep. Besides, we were 5, it’s not like you could have done anything to him.” Addie looked uncomfortable.
“Fine.” Said Morty. “But if we knew about our powers when we were younger we could have stopped it.” Morty stormed out, visibly angry.
Addie got up out of bed and slowly walked over to her mirror. Looking at herself, she saw her huge dark circles under her eyes and sighed. Addie wasn’t the stereotypical ‘pretty girl’ in school so everyone bullied her and as an extension bullied Morty too. They were identical twins but somehow Morty looked much prettier and got more attention than Addie. For identical twins, they were so different, but one thing bonded them together. Their ‘gift’.
Ever since their parents died, they could reach into people’s minds, explore them and manipulate them. Addie vowed to herself never to manipulate people but just to learn about people through their thought, but Morty with all her anger sees her gift as a right to abuse and manipulate people. She feels like they are inferior to her and they don’t deserve to right to have free will around her. Maybe that’s why she’s so popular and when she gets bullied it stops almost instantly.
Addie sat on her bed and forced herself to get ready for school.

The school bell rang summoning the students into the school building. Addie unenthusiastically climbed the concrete steps into the school building and found her way to English class. The room was littered with quotes from famous writers. Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Austen. It was a way to ‘Inspire young writers’ but Addie found it patronizing. She sat down at her old creaky desk and began sorting through her bag to find her books.
“Careful there, Black eyes!” A voice shouted. At that moment, Todd, the school bully came over and threw her bag across the room, scattering its contents across the classroom. A huge howl of laughter came from the other classmates as Addie fumbled to collect her stuff. Crawling across the floor to find her stuff, she bumped into the teacher who had just walked in. “What are you doing, miss?” the voice bellowed. Addie flinched, shocked at the loudness of the voice. She jumped up, apologized to the teacher and sat herself back down. She could just get her other things at the end of the lesson she thought.
“Are you ok?” A voice echoed in Addie’s mind. “Yes Morty, thanks for helping…” Addie snarkily replied. Then silence, just a glare from across the room to each other and then they focussed into the lesson. “Hello class, I’m Mr Baton. I’m here as a replacement for Ms Bradford whilst she’s having her baby.” Addie studied his figure. There was something odd about him, as if she knew him from somewhere. He was tall, had a bulky figure and large wild eyes. She couldn’t place the familiarity but just ignored it.

“Now, I want to change some things up a bit from now on. Ms Bradford liked for you to choose your own books for study but we are all going to study the same book together that I have chosen this time. I’m sure you will all enjoy it.” He grinned, showing off his two gold teeth and it hit her. It was him. The man from that night. It must be. Overwhelmed with emotion, Addie got up and stumbled out of the room trying to hold it together until she made it to the bathroom. Looking at herself in the mirror, she burst into tears. Look what he turned her into. A wreck. A dysfunctional human. She couldn’t have him teach her for the next year, she couldn’t deal with it. At that moment, Morty bursted in. “What the hell was that?! Trying to make us both look stupid are you?!” She folded her arms expecting an explanation. “No Morty. It’s him. That teacher. He killed Mom and Dad.” Addie exclaimed.
Morty stands there for a few seconds looking shocked. “What?! It’s not possible...” She replied.
“He’s finally back. He’s come to finish us off!” Addie shouted, distraught.
Morty comforted her and they both decided to ditch school for the day.

Addie was back in that dark corridor of her house. She knew what was going to come but had to play along anyway. She fumbled to the bedroom, knowing what was going to be there. This time she somehow got there earlier. She was witnessing what was happening. The man was just standing there, watching whilst her parents attacked each other. It made no sense. Why was she just remembering this now, and what was happening? Was this real, or did she just make it up? Addie woke up wet from sweat and heart racing. No wonder she has dark circles under eyes, she thought. She hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep since that night. Especially since it didn’t happen just the once. Her and her sister had been bounced from family member to family member, each dying a mysterious death shortly after. They only caught a break as soon as they could get their own place between them.
She walks to the bathroom and turns on the shower. The shower is the perfect place for her to think. The sound blocks Morty from listening in to her thoughts. Addie tried to make sense of her dream. Could what she originally have seen been a lie she had created to protect herself from the truth? Did he force them to do it to each other? What did it mean?
Addie turns off the shower and steps out, drying herself and getting ready for another day at school.
It had been six months now since Addie had that dream and she is still unsure of it. However, she grew more anxious day by day about her new teacher. She got regular panic attacks before English class and had asked multiple times for a class transfer, which were denied every time. Morty decided that enough was enough. During break, Morty pulled Addie into the bathroom. “Look, you can’t keep doing this. We need to do something and I have a plan.” Morty said, as she made sure no one was in the bathroom.
“I will set something up to make sure that he will never teach at this school again. So he will have to leave and leave us alone for good. What do you think?” She continued
“To scare him off or something?” Addie asked.
“Uh.. definitely. You got it!” Morty said suspiciously.
Addie agreed as she was desparate to get rid of him. It was too painful to keep looking at him every day in English class. They both left the bathroom and they both parted to go to their own lessons. They both looked back to each other and Morty gave Addie a little nod to reassure her.
It was English class, it was time for Morty to scare off Mr Baton. Addie would just sit there with her head on the desk, not wanting to know what it was. Mr Baton walked in slowly, Morty focussed and at that moment, she made Mr Baton fall. She manipulated his mind to think his legs had become numb and he fell. However, he hit his head off the corner of his steel office table. With a loud thud, he collapsed to the floor emotionless and still. All Addie heard was the thud and all of the student gasp in shock.
“Don’t open your eyes. It went a little… wrong.” Morty’s voice boomed in Addie’s head.
That whole afternoon was a blur. Police came, an ambulance came and everyone was in shock. Addie questioned the whole incident. She never thought that Morty was capable of murder, but at the same time, he never did come back so who really knows what the intention was. Did she do it on purpose or did it all go really wrong?

Addie is back once again in the dark hallway. At this point she knows what’s coming so she walks slowly towards the dimly lit room without fear. However, this time was different. The dream changed again. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There she was, in his place while it all happened. Morty. She was five, but was watching smiling as her parents attacked each other. The man was gone, nowhere to be seen. Just her in his place. Her smile beamed, but then the floorboards under Addie creaked. Morty’s head swiftly turned to her and a look of anger and evilness glinted in Morty’s eyes. All of a sudden she descended on Addie screaming. It was at this point Addie woke up. It was at this point she knew the truth. Everything was coming together now. She did it. Of course she did. Morty always hated the ‘humans’ she believed we were higher than them. She just thought it was because one killed their parents, but no. She killed her parents because she thought that. That’s how her other family members all were killed strangely, and that’s why Mr Baton was killed. It was a pure coincidence that she dreamt him up rather than her sister and if she got rid of him, Morty knew that Addie would drop everything and never think to solve the puzzle. Addie sat up in her bed, panicking. What was she going to do? How was she going to sort out that her sister was a serial killer. It was at that point Addie heard from the dark corner of her room. “How was your nightmare Addie? Are you ok?”
Addie looked over to see Morty with a wide grin on her face. Her face twisted and contorted into something non human.
“It was you.” Addie exclaimed.

I hope it isn't too long. Got a little carried away with the story I got into it so much. I'm not a big writer so it's not amazing but I found the idea really interesting. I did plan on developing the ending a bit more but I ran out of time.