Aberrant: Children of Quantum Fire - [COMPLETE] [INTERLUDE] The Ties That Bind

[Brute]

Date: April 10th, 2027

Place: Exalt! Building

To: Puck@Exalt!Op.net

From: Sellas.Laura@Exalt!Op.net

Subject: Brute

Well, you asked me for honesty and honesty is what you’ll get. Your sister is a mess.

I’ve dealt with many Nova patients over the years, and simply put, I know what it looks like when a node’s messing about with the brain chemistry. I’m arranging to have a scan done of her brain to see if the node has caused some permanent neurological changes. While Novas like to think they’re all unique and special, the number of them who have significantly altered brains is actually quite small, so this should tell us what’s what. I’m expecting to see the same signs of quantum backlash disorder that seem common to all Novas. She’s not an amnesiac – that might be preferable – but there’s something wrong for sure.

Opened session with simple pleasantries. Brute avoided talking about her past in general, focusing on the last few days in the Exalt! Building to the point of repetition, almost word for word. There seems to be a genuine fear in her regarding any detailed talk about her past. We did get into one story, but it was riddled with factual inconsistencies and involved interaction with a landmark that does not and never has existed: a stone horse somewhere in the ‘forest’. The time period is at least viable; she said this was nine years ago.

Her memory issues are problematic for obvious reasons. It does not require a professional psychologist to tell that there is trauma in Brute’s past, and the nature of trauma is unfortunately that it simply doesn’t go away unless it’s faced up to. This will require delicacy and time. If my fear about her QBD is true, it’ll be even worse and might be impossible. I am growing curious about when she erupted, though, or even if she's a second generation Nova. She clearly seems to recall using quantum abilities when she was a pre-teen. Will press on this issue - carefully - in future sessions.

Presence of Mr. Bear observed, noted, and addressed. Brute hugged teddy through most of the session. Recognizes that bear is not actually alive, but does not quite recognize the significance of her play acting despite obvious education in my field. Choice of name is interesting: ordinarily children pick specific names for their toys. Mr. Bear is a generic name, a descriptor more than anything else. Stand in for role model?

Towards the end we got to talking about Nova powers. They’re a common factor in Nova psychology, almost all psychologically healthy Novas rely on their powers to a lesser or greater degree for their confidence and self-belief.

As expected, Brute’s relationship is unhealthy. While she has control, she understates her abilities constantly, even to the point of claiming that she can’t do anything. When I pointed out her Mount Everest stunt, she said, and I quote: “That don’t matter to nobody.”

When I asked if it mattered to her, she said it did, and fell silent. I decided to close the session there, given her apparent improved mood. I’ve no desire to make her depressed again.

Recommendations: Brute would benefit enormously from developing some sort of relationship with and appreciation of her powers. She may not have complete control despite her claim to the contrary, so testing should be done on these grounds.

[Shosuro Miren]

From: Puck@Exalt!Op.net

To: Sellas.Laura@Exalt!Op.net

Subject: Brute

Thank you, Luara. I'll see who I can get in contact with or what strings I can pull to get access to a hospital or facility to do the tests you've requested. No Raschoud clinics. I'll take her around town with me, try to get her a bit more socialization and people-exposure. As for power training....I'll need to think on that some. With the powers we've seen from her, the building isn't really equipped well for her to explore her abilities. I'll see what I can coax out of her while I try to find a good location for her to let loose on.

If she's lucid enough anytime soon, I'd like to do a full profile on her, like we do for members. Knowing what she's been taught and where she excels would be a good starting point for building up her self esteem and getting her integrated with others as friends and fellow enthusiasts.

Puck

Puck sent the OpMail and then began making phone calls to local private hospitals to find out how much it would cost for the brain scans. I need more money. Doesn't matter, she's my sister. He made an appointment with the hospital with latest equipment and most discreet reputation and sent off another OpMail to let Rollin know about the incoming dip in his personal accounts.

He leaned back at his desk and frowned. It had been over a week since he'd brought his sister home, and news feeds were already posting pictures and digging into who she was. And yet, not a word from their parents. He'd expected his father to be an ass on the matter, given how he'd spoken of her; but he'd also figured that their mother would at least have made some sort of contact, some sort of indication that she was happy her daughter was alive and (physically) well. Instead, silence. Nothing through OpMail, even though he had left a private address with them when he'd visited; nothing through Teragen contacts either.

His sister's mind was broken, hopefully not past repair, but something had happened. It might be taint - Puck had met enough Terats to have seen several with mental issues, but if it wasn't then that meant something had been done to her. Frowning, he sat up and began OpMailing friends in the Nursery, the Pandaimoniom, and the Casablancas. His parents were Terats, even if they weren't especially active or well-known. Someone had to know them better than he or his sister did, and he wanted to pick every little detail out that he could before he went back to Texas to talk to them himself.

His networking and plans made, he stood up from his chair and made his way down to the suite of rooms next to his that now belonged to Brute. As much as he and Laura had reassured her that she was safe, especially inside the building, she rarely left those rooms and always in the company of Puck or Infinity. He knocked on the door and stepped into the living room, calling out, "Brute? I'm gonna go out for dinner and to do some shopping. How 'bout you come along, just you and me?" And the city of New York.

It would take at least a few days, if not a few weeks, for him get anything substantial back on his networking. He knew what kind of gossips Terats were - and the prices they charged once they knew what you could afford, in cash or favors. The brain scan would be quicker, three days from now. But he had three days then to let Brute run as much amok in the city as he could afford and cajole her to. We'll get you patched up, sis, I promise. And if it was done to you by someone, somehow, they will pay with everything they hold dear. I promise you.

[Quantum Fire]

Date: April 13, 2027

Interrupt

From: Sexualsynergy@fornicate.com

To: Puck@Exalt!Op.net

Hello Puck, your handsome cybernetic Synapse here, I've checked the records from the lovely lady regarding your sister.. btw, want naked pictures of her, I edited her clothing out on the camera's, she's quite hot.. for a baseline. But forget my distraction, your sister, also very hot in terms of appearance as well, I have a few naked pictures of her also, but I don't imagine your interest to be the same as mine there.

Any, without being distracted by naked pictures and poses, as much fun as that is, I have done a quick check on the matter myself, read her file and observed her reactions both with the hot little headshrinker and though camera's watching her interact with others. My assessment, your sister has be mindraped by a telepath.. repeatedly and often. On the plus side, that means it's not taint related, so it is likely she can overcome the difficulties.. on the minus, that means she's likely to have gaps.. forever.

On the further negative, while you would need another telepath to confirm this, I suspect her father's culpable here, there is no law against doing such a thing, but it's completely fucked up to do something this to your daughter.. if you confirm it, beat his ass.

I'd say Cheers, but this isn't a cheery matter, so, later..

Synapse

[Brute]

April 13th

To: Puck@Exalt!Op.net

From: Sellas.Laura@Exalt!Op.net

Subject: Brute

First thing: I got those test results back. It’s not what I thought it was. It’s actually even worse. You are not going to like this, Puck.

I expected to see signs of QBD, but there’s no indication of that at all. In fact she’s a QBD null, no taint whatsoever. What the scans did find, though, are a large number of lesions on the brain. Basically Brute suffers from severe brain damage. There’s no question at all, Puck, something was done to her. The injuries are absolutely in line with, for example, severe concussions.

Now this diagnosis has to be taken with a pinch of salt. There’s an obvious issue here. The first is that Novas can heal just about anything. So why has she not healed the injury? Brute is completely healthy in every other respect, and she admits herself that she’s been injured before. From her account, I think she may well be a regenerator, making these findings even more perplexing.

So all I can say is that this isn’t something I’ve ever seen before in a Nova. In a baseline, I’d assume there was a history of severe concussions, perhaps from aggressive sporting activity. I’ve included a copy of the various brain scans and a scan from a healthy brain so you can see the difference yourself.

During the session today Brute suffered some sort of seizure, she became non-communicative, began hyperventilating and shaking, and started muttering something under her breath. If I’m not mistaken they were the basic mathematical times tables, one to ten for each number. The seizure lasted up until she reached six by seven, a good few minutes.

Post-seizure she stopped breathing again (it’s obvious she has no need to), and became completely non-responsive for over an hour. I left her with Mr. Bear to recover on her own.

I’ve gone over my notes several times but I’m not sure what triggered the seizure. I’d like to request a follow-up scan to see if these seizures are what have caused her brain damage. If so there ought to be fresh lesions on her brain, and that might explain our anomaly. However, I doubt it, given the age of her injuries.

Leading up to seizure we discussed the last few days being up and about with you. Much to my surprise she seemed quite relaxed about it. Unfamiliar with the environment, of course, but she showed none of the terror or suspicion I would expect from such an unsocialized Nova.

The media attention seems to make her nervous. She asked several times about the men who attacked her, and whether she would be arrested. I mostly evaded a solid answer on this front as I don’t know the exact legal circumstances. As I understand it, though, she would legally be blamed for both attacks, as the laws in both China and the state of Texas favour the attacked over the attacker when it comes to physically enhanced Novas. You may want to look into the legalities of this one yourself. It’s going to emerge sooner or later and questions will be asked.

I carefully moved the conversation onto matters of cinema, and tried to tease some more details a about that ‘movie’ she says she watched in Hope. She clearly remembers sitting in the center seat of the screening room, watching with Mr. Bear, and that it was ‘quite scary’. When I asked if there were other people there, she frowned, and I let the subject slide. I get the impression that she thinks there were other people in the cinema with her, but if she thinks about it too hard she starts to realize that it isn’t so.

Seizure triggered four minutes and twenty three seconds later, while talking about possible chances for making her own way in the world. Initially I thought it might be due to nerves, but why start reciting the times tables?

Seems strange to me. Your thoughts?

Brute crouched down over Puck and Infinity. She was at her full size, now, towering over the leafy trees that covered one of the islands called The Brothers. They came up to her ankles.

“Hey there,” she said, waving down at Puck.

He looked up at her. “I suppose this is where I call you my big sister?”

Brute giggled, the sound rendered thunderous and echoing by her vast proportions. “It’s real nahce out here, Puck. Do ya own this place?”

“Not yet,” he shouted up, “maybe in a few months. You’d be surprised how cheap islands go on the open market these days.”

Brute straightened up again and stood with her hands on her hips, naked as the day she was born. She could have worn her clothes and attuned them so they were okay, but it felt better not to, like going to the swimming pool or taking a dip in a lake.

Standing up here, the island seemed really small. The trees were tiny, like little pot plants clustered around her feet. The tallest came up to her knee. Looking East, she could see the New York skyline, and she waved to it. “Hey, Puck! Should I uproot somethin’?”

“No, that’s fine,” he bellowed. “That one you stepped on was quite enough thanks.”

In a cacophony of contracting flesh and bone, Brute shrank back down to her normal size, a solid three inches smaller than Puck. He handed her clothes to her and she started getting dressed again, attuning her clothes as she went.

“You prefer doing that naked then, huh?” Infinity said, grinning. Puck gave her a little kick. “What? It was an innocent question. You were thinking it, too.”

Brute nodded at her. “Ah don’ know why. S’just a thing ah guess. Though it’s kinda nahce to be wearin’ clothes an’ just rip out of ‘em, ya know?” She smiled shyly. “Well, ah guess ya don’t, actually, but anyways, ah kinda like doin’ that. Like in the movies, ya know? Jus’ feeling mah clothes get tight all over an’ then just boom, off they go an’…” she grinned. “Well, there ya go. But ah wouldn’t do it to these clothes. Ah like these ones, an’ so does Mr. Bear.” And that was that.

“That’s pretty incredible, Brute,” Puck said. “I mean, I knew already, I saw your Everest trick. But up close, that’s rather different.”

“Oh yeah,” infinity said. “Real impressive.” The way she said it made Brute feel a little giggly.

Still, she just shrugged. “S’nothin’ special. S’just what ah do.”

Puck raised one eyebrow at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

Brute shook her head. “Ain’t nobody care about somethin’ like that. Ah mean, what use is it? All it’s good for is breakin’ stuff. Ah guess ah could clahmb a buildin’ an’ get shot off or somethin’,” she looked out into the woods, following the darting heat signature of a rabbit. “S’no use ta nobody.”

They were all quiet for a time after that. Brute went and sat down with Mr. Bear in her arms, and watched some fallen leaves begin to frost over around her.

Puck had her run through her other abilities. Brute didn’t mind. It always felt quite nice to go through different states. But she always felt perplexed when he and Infinity ‘ooo’ed or ‘ah’ed. When they were heading for the warp to go home, Puck asked her more directly.

“Brute,” he said, as they walked toward the beach, where their rented motor boat was moored, “why do you keep saying ‘it’s not much use?’ You can change yourself in so many different ways and tell conventional physics to go mind it's own business somewhere else, thank you very much." He smiled at her, "That’s pretty impressive, don't you think?”

“Is it?” Brute looked a bit different now. Her normally slender frame was swollen with muscle, giving her the look of an exceptionally photogenic bodybuilder. She was near as strong as when she was at her full size, too. Her muscles were contracting again now, though, the extra mass bleeding away like snowmelt on a warm day.

“Well… yeah. I think so.” He seemed a little uncomfortable about it now. “I just don’t understand. Most Novas are really pleased when they can do things. There are loads who can turn into water, but you can turn into water, or ice, or air. That in itself is pretty special. Don’t you see that?”

Brute shook her head. “All ah am is cold. Puck, you ever noticed that people don’t much lahke the winter? So ah can make snow on a summer day,” she said, “big deal. Ah reckon most people’d be mighty annoyed at me droppin’ the temperature on ‘em. ‘Specially given ah can make it so cold it hurts. What use is that to anybody? Maybe if there’s a fahre, ah guess. Or somethin’. Ah don’ know. S’just…” she trailed off.

You wrecked mah house!

She winced. “Ah’m bad, Puck,” she said. “All ah can do is break thangs. Do you got much use for that? When we go back to the Exalt! Buidin’, are there a big ol’ stack o’ things for your big sis to go break for ya?”

“No. I’ve already said, that’s not the point, Brute. I just-“

“Then why d’you care what ah feel about mah powers? Ah’m cold an’ ah break thangs. Ain’t nothin’ special about that. Ah reckon if ya asked a hunnerd people, they’d all say it was a right ol’ pain in the backsahde. An’ they’d say the same about me.” She clenched her jaw, and felt tears forming in her eyes.

“They wouldn’t, Brute. You know that.” Puck took one of her hands, leaving one to clutch Mr. Bear. “It’s okay. I was just a bit confused, is all.”

Brute felt heat in her cheeks. She’d upset him. It was in his voice. She bowed her head. “Ah’m sorry, Puck. Ah keep tellin’ ya-“

“You’re bad. I know. And I don’t believe it for a second. Come on, let’s go home.”

[Shosuro Miren]

He smiled as they reached the boat, news 'copters already buzzing towards the islands from reports of another nude shot of Giantess.Puck ignored them, not caring if they were followed back to the Exalt! building or not, the media couldn't take a step into his building without his permission, and all the glass had been replaced with one-way mirrors as the first step of the rehab. His sister would have her privacy at home, even if as a nova she'd always have some notoriety in public. Once they were all on board, he motioned for the pilot to head them back to Manhattan. The woman had come as part of the rental service and blushed every time she glanced at Brute; Puck appreciated that she was professional enough to at least stay silent and just pilot the motor boat back to the island.

He quirked a smile at his sister, "Actually, I can think of a lot of ways your powers would be useful just around the city, not to mention out in nature or other places. You could put out fires, like you mentioned. During bad heat waves you could cool down big public buildings for people that don't have air conditioning and need a place to go or if the heat's overloaded the power grid. Hmn. What else? You can get into places other people can't, like where people might be trapped, and help get them out. And that's just the stuff you can do to be nice to others." He chuckled, "You could even give kids snowball fights in the middle of summer. Your powers are amazing, Brute, not useless. I can't do any of what you just showed us. In fact, as far as flashy powers go, I don't have any. Just a pretty face." He mock-sighed and then winked at her, "So don't sell yourself short, okay?"

His OpPhone beeped at him, trumpeting that he'd received a OpMail on his private account. He nimbly fetched the hand-sized device from its clip on his side and read the mail. His expression went through several phases: quizzical, surprised, amused, a flicker of annoyance, and then blank. Completely blank as he crushed the phone in his hand, mangled wires and pieces of twisted plastic popping out between his fingers to escape the impossible pressure of his hand.

Infinity had always known Puck was strong. He could lift her up and carry her around with one arm, and occasionally he'd rough out stone sculptures precisely placed strikes of his hand. She'd never seen him lose control. Not in the first few days of his life outside of his Chrysalis, not in the first of many acts of lovemaking and downright rough-and-tumble fucking, not even under the constant teasing or outright bullying of some of the other children in the Nursery. And he'd just crushed his OpPhone like it was a paper origami of the real thing. His entire body was flushed a deep pink, the red of his blood warring with the iridescent alabaster of his skin; his breath was coming in ragged drags of air - and he didn't even need to breath.

When he spoke, it wasn't to Brute or to Infinity, it was to the baseline pilot. "Speed up. I don't care about the laws, just get us back to Manhattan now. I'll pay the fines if anyone gives you shit about it." The tones were even, but a low growling hiss to his normal convivial timbre. The baseline swallowed hard and didn't look back at her employer; the boat lurched as the motor was revved up to full power and the coastline began to zoom into view. The helicopters followed, but no coastline patrol caught up to them before they docked.

Puck pocked the mangled pieces of his former phone and swung up off the boat; he offered and hand up to both ladies, pulling them up with the silk-lined strength he usually used. Infinity started to ask him what was wrong, but a sharp shake of his head and the dangerous look in his eye warned her off. Their car was waiting where they'd left it and the rest of the trip back to the Exalt! building was quiet and thankfully short. "Girls, why don't you go have dinner in the restaurant? I need to attend to something, and I think it's best if I do so alone." His words were a suggestion, but his tone was the closest either of them had ever heard to him giving an outright order.

At Infinity's nod and tug on Brute's sleeve to get her moving in the direction of Gateway, Puck stalked off to the stairs. A fourty-four flight jog would help him calm down and shear off the rage-energy he was feeling. He hoped. Otherwise he might break something a lot more important than a phone - like his entire penthouse. About ten minutes later he was sliding carefully into his office chair, still angry but he'd stopped putting hand-shaped crimps in the railings about six floors ago. It was an improvement. He carefully picked up his OpBook and penned in a response to Synapse:

From: Puck@Exalt!Op.net

To: Sexualsynergy@fornicate.com

Thank you for the information. I've had confirmation that there are lesions on her brain consistent with long-term trauma. I'll ask Laura about the pictures, but I doubt she'll agree. Watch the evening news if you want to see Brute; she enjoys being unencumbered when she expands herself to her full height.

If you feel further inclined to help out my personal matter, any more information on my parent's history and abilities would be highly appreciated, especially their situation within the Teragen. The last I knew they were still in Texas; if this has changed, I would be grateful to know that as well.

Again, you have my deepest thanks.

Puck

He took a another deep breath, trying to stay calm and keep control of the unbridled rage simmering just beneath his skin. He tried to lay the OpBook down carefully but it clattered loudly on the desk as his shaking hands lost their grip on it. He buried his head in his hands for several long moments, shaking and knowing that if he picked up the sleek desk phone a few inches from his elbow just yet he'd crush it just like his mobile. The moment passed and sat up again, wiping the wetness in his eyes away with a black sleeve. He picked up the phone and dialed a number that all Nursery children were told to memorize before they ventured off into the dangers of the world.

"Yes?" The voice was perfect, almost to the point of painfully so, like an true angel from the Old Testament. Puck nearly collapsed at the relief of hearing that painfully beautiful voice; this was his first teacher and his sister's greatest hope for healing.

"Scripture. Tane i kywen fei d'ana. Delwa isha ni sewyn. Dee'an. Kei'wen so." The words tumble out in a rush, conveying in mere seconds what would have taken a baseline language several minutes to explain the situation and his request. His eyes were wet again and he's propped his head on his other arm, his face almost buried in his hand. I will not break down now. I need to act. I need to stay strong. Stable. For her. Please.

"Daren, Puck. Elant'in karr." The phone clicked off and Puck quickly sent a message through the building's internal network to the restaurant, asking them to direct Brute and Infinity up to the penthouse. Only seconds later a swirling warp opened to admit Scripture and Tähden, one of the eldest children of the Nursery that acted as something of personal aide and transport for Bounty and Scripture. At least, when he wasn't teaching the younger children; he had a flair for helping young novas learn how to control their powers and take on tasks that they weren't immediately perfect at. He'd taught Puck how to control his urges and respect the personal space of others, only one of his many miracles with the second generation of Teragen.

"Tash'den, Scripture. Tash'den." His voice cracked as spoke and Scripture closed the space between them, hugging the emotionally distraught young nova tightly for a moment before pulling back and laying his hands on Puck's shoulders.

"Kei la nai, Puck. Dostran votek." The glowing nova spoke softly, calming his one-time student enough for Puck to nod and compose himself before his sister and Infinity arrived.

"Laen, Tähden." He stepped away from Scripture and gave the white-haired, Nordic nova a much calmer hug.

"Ta'ken, Puck." Tähden smiled down at the shorter man and switched to English, never having been as proficient or as interested in Puck's personal language as Scripture, "Don't worry, we'll make this better and we'll find out who did this to her."

Puck opened his mouth to voice the suspicions Synapse had intimated to him, but the door clicked open and the women stepped through. Puck's mouth clacked shut even as Infinity's eyes widened; the 'baseline with a node' grinned and ran across the room, throwing herself into Scriptures arms. "Scripture! What are you doing here? And Tähden! Is this some sort of official visit? Or has Puck finally come to senses to join the Cult of Mal?" She grinned at both of them, but her smile slipped when she caught the drawn expression on Pucks face. She let herself down from her exuberant embrace of one of the most powerful novas on the planet, the memories of the past hour catching up with her excitement at seeing the leader of her religion (Mal, of course, being the God of the religion, not simply a leader). "What's going on, guys?" she asked quietly, her eyes darting between the three Terats. "What happened?"

Puck went to his sister, who'd stopped in the doorway as the aura of power from the two strangers washed over her. He took her gently by the hand and led her to the man with the glowing eyes. "Brute, this is Scripture. He's here to help you, if you'll let him. He can help you think clearer and help us find out what happened to you, okay?" It wasn't fair, and he knew it wasn't, but he poured every ounce of his persuasive ability to get that slight nod and mumbled, "Ah guess so," from her.

She hugged Mr. Bear tightly to her chest and shyly looked up Scripture, wondering how he could help her. No one could. She was a bad person and that never went away, not matter how hard you could think on it.

Translation and Manipulation

Puck used The Voice on the boat pilot.

General translation for the Bodhi speaking is just Puck explaining the damage done to Brute and and a plea for help. Scripture agrees and says that he's coming immediately with an inflection to stay calm. Puck thanks him (the repeated words), and then exchanges the equivalent of polite greetings with Tädhen.

With Brute, he's bringing an 18 die (10 Man, 5 Mega-Man, 3 Rapport, with a Persuasive quality) pool's worth of persuasion to bear on Brute, with Soothe, Endearing, and Natural Leader lending a little help as well.

Krul will be playing Scripture from this point on.

[Quantum Fire]

All nova's with significant amounts of mega-socials had a powerful presence, especially those with greatly increased charisma, the nature of each presence was different, almost as different as fingerprints, some were very close to one another of course, with very similar feels to them, such as Puck and Darrik, but even there were minor differences between those so close. Scripture's sense of presence was much more unique, a mix of divine presence mixed with an almost fatherly aspect, and sense of deep powerful wisdom about him.

He was, after Divis Mal, the most powerful nova within Teragen, and his mastery over information, words, and language was without compare, there were more powerful telepath or psychics, though he could be counted among there number, but there was no one more powerful within his focus and theme... few also knew that he was Mal's balancing wheel, often adding his wisdom and restraint to what Divis Mal might chose to do, making him something of a bridge between him and the rest of teragen. He was involved with the Cult of Mal, and also with the Children of Teras, and to him, each one of the 2nd generation terats was something of a mix between his child and his student, emotionally.

Turning from Puck and Infinity, he turned to regard Brute for a long moment, then he nodded slightly his voice had a prefect tone to it, like that of a tuning fork, he could alter the tone, but regardless of what he said it always seemed to ring down to the heart of your very soul. "Eden Klitzkow, your brother requests that I intervene on your behalf, if you agree, I am going to repair as much of the damage to your mind that has occurred over your lifespan, restoring lost information, are you prepared for me to do so?" His voice caused a shiver though the minds of everyone present.

[Brute]

It had been scary seeing Puck angry. He tried to hide it from her, but his phone did something to him. Brute was happy he broke it. She stayed quiet, though, even when he smiled, just in case he got angry at her.

When she got called up to the penthouse with Infinity later that day, she thought it would be just another day, maybe a call to go out shopping or a request to go to the hospital for another test or something. The test was sort of fun, actually. They stuck her head in a machine that made banging noises. They were a bit annoying, but the other noises it made, the little hums and the flashing lights, were fun.

But instead Puck was there with a man who had a strange-looking head, and Brute had no idea what to think or say or do or anything.

Then the man with the funny head talked. Scripture, Puck called him. And he sounded so good it was painful. She went slack and let Mr. Bear drop from nerveless fingers, just listening to him.

When he fell quiet again she caught herself and quickly snatched Mr. Bear up once more. She looked between him and Puck, eyes full of fear. “Ah don’ know who ya talkin’ about, mister. Mah name’s Brute. Only name ah got. Don’ know nobody named Eden.” She looked over at Puck, suspicious of him for the first time. “We got a sister now, or somethin’?”

She shook her head, clutching Mr. Bear fiercely. He was real. He didn’t have a funny head. “Ah don’t know what any of ya are talkin’ about. What damage? Ah’m not damaged, ah’m jus’ dumb. Ya cain’t fix dumb.” She knew it wasn’t so. She knew her memories weren’t right. But that didn’t mean she was damaged. It just meant she couldn’t remember. And she felt it was better not remembering, sometimes.

When she spoke again, her voice was very quiet. She looked at Scripture with hooded eyes, Mr. Bear up close by her chin. “Ah’m not sure ah should remember, mister. Ah know ah’m dumb, but ah’m not that dumb. Ah know a lot of what ah remember is all messed up. But…” she shook her head, and tears came to her eyes. She gave another, more violent shake of her head. “Ah don’ think it’ll be all that good ta remember, mister. Ah don’ think there’s anythin’ nahce in here. It’s all scary an’ wrong, but ah just don’ know. Is it gonna be any better if ah remember it right, an’ then ah know exactly how it’s wrong? Can ya tell me that fer sure, mister? Can ya make me a good person? ‘Cause ah ain’t. Ah’m bad. Ah’m real bad. Puck won't hear none o' that, but he don't got no blood on his hands. Ah've killed people. Puck says them people out there'll all lahke me if they see me, but ah think if they knew, they'd throw me in jail. Where ah belong.” The tears started flowing. "Ah crushed 'em, mister. In mah hand. Lahke... lahke toys..."

She bowed her head.

[Quantum Fire]

"Your real name, is Eden, the title of 'Brute' was a name that was placed on you, a cruel wound that has never healed.. as for good and bad.. there is no such thing as someone who is innately bad, no one is all 'bad' or 'good' so to speak, some are worse then others, but someone as young as you can't be 'real bad'. The person who told you that was being 'real bad' themselves..." He paused a moment then continued. "With regards to smart and 'dumb' that's a bit of a misnomer as well, everyone is different, Eden, smart and dumb are inaccurate and incorrect."

He went to her side and put a hand on her shoulder and it was almost like god had sent an angel to come down to talk to her personally, his personal regard felt that intense, and he looked considerate and compassionate, even with his incredible beauty, voice and the glowing halo of changing letters revolving around his head. "But, if you don't wish to remember, I will honor that, instead I will repair the damage done, so that your mind and memory will stabilize in the here and now, which is more important then what was in the past."

[Brute]

Puck had his imploring eyes on again. He looked upset, and that broke her heart.

And Scripture’s voice… there were no words. It cut through her like she was made of air, pulling her heart up and making her feel more hopeful. He didn’t answer her question, didn’t even try, but somehow that didn’t matter.

Mah name’s Eden. She knew he was telling her the truth. Why didn’t ah know that?

She wondered why she was resisting. No, she knew why. He scared her a little. He was so special. Not like her. He was an angel, like in that pretty glass window she saw in a church on the OpNet. She remembered breaking one, and it shattered into pieces that cut her arms to ribbons.

Her head was full of shadows. He was light given form and glowing light. And Puck brought him here, and was standing there making those eyes at her. Brute couldn’t say no to those eyes.

“Awright, mister,” she whispered. “Ah guess it cain’t do no harm, can it?”

[Quantum Fire]

"A warning, I may not be able to fix everything, children, it depends on the source of the damage." He gave both her, Infinity and Puck a bit of warning even as he put his hands on either side of 'Brute' or Eden's head, and his touch had almost the same effect as that wonderful voice, it was a delight to be touched by him, there was nothing sexual in it, as there was in Darrik's touch, but it was wonderful in it's own way.

Then his mind touched hers telepathically and she immediately cringed, she knew that sort of feel it often came with pain and madness.. except in a moment she relaxed, his mind touch was soothing and delightful as the rest of him, and she felt her memories begin to flood back, though periodically there would be a stop as both Scripture and her took a look at a particular memory. Illusion, this memory isn't real, this memory was imposed upon you.. your mind is flooded with them, Eden, it's a wonder you are as sane as you are.. I am going to have a very long talk with someone when we are done here, this will take a few hours.

While he was working on her mind, he drew Eden to a chair in the room and gently pulled her into his lap, with her clinging to her stuffed bear as he continued to work, and he was incredibly gentle with her, it was kind of gentleness that both Puck and Infinity had seen in the nursery with the youngest of them, tender and fatherly. He drew her back though the memories, but he also shielded her from the pain of them, holding her mind at one remove, to keep from increasing her trauma further.. and periodically he would add his own words.

Unfair that, and undeserved He responded in one memory where her father screamed at her and then twisted her mind telepathically invoking considerable force on her mind. But he had no idea how to raise a child, which means he had no business doing so.

When memories were particularly confusing or made no sense at all, he was able to point out that they were illusions in her mind, or a form of mental attack, and his gentle touch soothed her mind and emotions though what was a essentially a really long flashback from beginning to end, when she ran away...and things finally settled in a normal pattern. This is the way it should have been, your father shouldn't have twisted your mind in this way at all, it was wrong, 'bad' even, as you were saying, he was the bad one here, not you, Eden.

Hours passed until Scripture looked up again, and the girl in his lap was curled in a ball, tightly around the bear in her arms, crying softly. "That is all I can do, some of the information in her head isn't even real, and it's bound up in her quantum signature, she'll always be a little shaky because of it, but this will help her."

[Brute]

A younger, more girlish Brute was balanced upon a tree branch, upside down, supported on a single fingertip.

She hung there, completely still, balance inhuman in its perfection. She could have been a statue.

Then young Brute dropped and gripped the branch, swung down underneath and released. She spiralled through the air, tumbling and twisting, until she caught another branch and went back to swinging. Branch by branch she flipped through the forest, until she flipped to the lush grass surrounding the trees. Even in landing, though, she moved into tumbling, cartwheeling and flipping onwards.

Eventually she came to a still lake among the trees, and crouched down at the water’s edge.

Brute watched her younger self from a small distance away. Scripture stood at her shoulder. “This is not what you remember,” he said.

“Naw,” Brute replied.

“Your mind is at war with itself, child,” Scripture said. “Walking through the fields of your memory is like stepping upon razorblades. Pain is written into the fabric of your memories. I am shielding you from the worst of the damage, keeping you from reliving these scenes as best I can. You can see them, instead of being the victim. I hope that will grant some perspective.”

“Thanks, ah guess,” Brute said.

“You seem a physical prodigy. Your grace is divine.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.” Her eyes were on her younger self, on the still water that she knew was not water, and waiting for the cracks to show.

“It was most impressive to me,” Scripture said.

“Don’t know why. What you doin’ now seems way more useful ta me.”

Scripture laughed. It seemed a queer sound in this place of all places. Brute could see the fog rolling in from the other side of the lake. It would start soon. Young Brute walked to the water’s edge, pushed her hands under the surface, and melted away into it.

“Perhaps that is so. But one does not need to be ‘useful’. Perhaps I should show you my own attempt to replicate the feat your younger self just accomplished.” His angelic voice rang with mirth. “You would likely find it amusing.”

Brute shook her head. “Naw, mister. There ain’t no need. ‘Specially if ya cain’t do it. No need ta sacrifahce your dignity on my account.”

“Oh, it’s not like anyone else would see. Besides, a small loss of dignity might be worth it to make you smile.”

That thought alone made her smile.

Scripture laughed. “Good. Your parents did not irreparably ruin you, and I get to keep my dignity. Gymnastics do not well suit a robe.”

The time for laughing ended moments later, when the fog rolled in and the surface of the lake cracked like glass. Young Brute emerged from the water in a sudden eruption, her flesh and tattered clothes forming as she crawled out, for moments seeming a water spirit. She turned and stared at the water, eyes wide and terrified.

Blackness oozed from the cracks in the water, spreading across the surface until the whole lake seemed covered in oil.

Brute felt the subtle distance Scripture was enforcing, preventing the memory from dragging her deep into it, to where she would feel it as if it were real and happening all over again. Yet it hurt to watch her younger self crawling away, terrified, seeking somewhere to hide.

Ain’t nowhere to hide, little me, Brute thought. Nowhere at all.

Soon the fog was on her, dark and thick and grey, and around the three of them the trees grew skeletal, warped and twisted, seeming to grasp and claw at the sky and the ground alike. That was when the whispers started.

They were vague at first, hard to define, but Brute knew what they were. She remembered, and the remembrance was bitter.

While young Brute cowered on her knees, eyes wide and horrified as her world turned insane around her, the unseen things in the fog began to prance and sing ‘happy birthday’ to her.

“Perverse,” Scripture said, shaking his head. “And this happened every year. What is your birthday, Eden?”

Brute looked up at him. “Ah don’t remember,” she said. “Ah never knew when it was comin’. Jus’ one day ah’d go down to the lake, an’ the fog would come an’ sing happy birthday. That was how ah knew. Ah went bad real early,” she went on, her voice dead and flat. “Weren’t no good reason to celebrate mah birthday after that. You shouldn’t judge him too bad, mister. He shouldn’t have done this, ah guess, but it was mah fault. He wouldn’t have done it if ah was good.”

“This was illusion,” Scripture said. “You understand this?”

She nodded. Her younger self didn’t know that, though.

The younger Brute was rocking back and forth in her fog circle, hugging herself and crying, and singing ‘happy birthday’ back to the fog. Brute wished she could hold her, and tell her it would be okay, that it would end soon enough. It never felt like that at the time, though. She remembered all too well the horror, and the fear that this time would be the last time, and that the fog would never go away again.

Scripture put his hand on her shoulder. “Let us leave this memory, Eden. You know how it ends.”

Ah broke the trees, she remembered. Ah grew, an’ ah broke ‘em. “Are those trees… there?” She looked up at Scripture. “Doctor Sellas says the trees got cut down years an’ years ago.”

Scripture nodded. “Yes. But in later iterations, even the trees were not real. By then your grip on reality was so tenuous that you could not even tell that. Would you like to see?”

“Naw,” Brute said. “But ah should.”

Scripture smiled, and the expression was full of warmth and support. “Yes.”

He waved his hand. The fog rolled in, and when it thinned again there was an older Brute, not much younger than the real thing. She was thirteen, maybe. The younger Brute flipped through the trees and cartwheeled her way down to the lake and merged with the water.

The older one walked, slowly, with plodding steps and wide, dead eyes, down to the waterside. Then she toppled forwards and lay face down in the dirt, motionless, like she was dead.

Brute shuddered, as if struck.

There were no trees. The ground was dust and red earth, fire-blackened here and there, ruined irreparable by the forest fire that had caused the trees to be cut down in the first place. The lake was shallower than it had been; its mud banks were higher and lined with black. The wind howled like a dying beast.

Brute covered her mouth with both hands. She rose and walked over to herself. The younger Brute twitched occasionally, but she did nothing more. She looked back at Scripture, aghast. “That’s… that’s me?”

Scripture looked around. “I am afraid so. You were broken at this point, barely sane, unable to tell reality from fiction. Your mother was in chrysalis with your brother, leaving you to your father’s tender mercy. Hope was abandoned, nobody came out this way. He had no reason to fear your discovery. Why not let you wander plains of dust and skulls, thinking you were dancing amid the trees?”

“Ah remember this,” she said, knowing it was so. When the memories grabbed for her, she often came back here. “The music was so loud ah thought mah head would burst. An’ ah saw some o’ the things in the fog. Ah screamed an’ screamed, an’ they came after me anyway. It seemed lahke it’d never end.”

“Let us go, Brute.” Scripture put both hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. “Nothing remains here but pain.”

Ah was so pathetic, she thought, as she looked down on herself, face down and spread-eagled in the dust. “Ah always wondered why it all tasted like dirt,” she said, trying not to cry. “Ah can remember that taste. Fear don’t taste lahke that, ah know it doesn’t. Ah never guessed. Ah never did.”

“Let it go,” Scripture said, his voice as soft as the caress of a new spring leaf. “I could force you away, but I will not. Let it go, Eden. You will return here again, and I will not be here to shield you.” He stroked some hair away from the back of her neck. “But you will know what this is, then. I hope that will help.”

She gave up. And just like that they were somewhere else.

The cabin was warm. This was home years ago, when she was tiny and things were happy. The faces of her parents were hard to make out. Only seeing this in clarity did Brute realize she had no clear memory of what either of her parents looked like. She had never looked for them on the OpNet, either. They were sitting in chairs, watching her, and she was sat cross-legged in front of a book and struggling with numbers.

Ah was so small, she thought.

“Four years old,” Scripture said, his voice echoing with disapproval. “You were innocent but not harmless. Witness the foolishness and hubris of your parents. The genesis of your suffering.”

Brute knew how this went. In her mind it had boiled in the heat of her suffering, breaking down into flash-frames and still images, but she knew how it went.

Little Brute grew more and more frustrated. Her mother kept urging her to do the sums. They were big ones, long equations. Ones her mother could do blind. Her mother was very clever as well as very beautiful. Ah couldn’t read too well. The words seemed funny on the page.

“What’s wrong with her?” Her mother’s voice was a whip-crack against her soul.

“Keep tellin’ ya,” her father said, reading the newspaper, “she’s got somethin’ wrong with her. Cain’t read rahght. Ah reckon she mahght be dyslexic. No way to test though.”

“She is not!” The horror, the anger in her mother’s voice made Brute shiver. She recoiled mentally, but Scripture was there behind her, keeping her in the scene. “Are you, dear? You can read just fine. Can’t you?”

Little Brute looked up, eyes full of innocence. “The numbers look funny,” she said. “My eyes hurt.”

Her father laughed. “Told ya.”

That set her mother off. She screamed at her father, he put his paper down and held his hands up, placating, all smiles and calm words. “See them for what they are,” Scripture said.

Brute saw her father being calm and collected, her mother shrieking and storming around the house, ranting at Brute’s failings, at how this could have been born from her body. She would not have it she said, it would not do.

Her father was defending her.

Then little Brute was bawling, because her parents were arguing and she knew it was all her fault. Her mother commanded her to do her sums immediately, and then she was getting angry and frustrated.

And winter fell inside the cabin.

Little Brute’s body temperature dropped to horrifically cold, and when her mother laid hands on her, her hands were stuck and skin ripped off when she jerked back, shrieking.

Madness fell. Her mother was bleeding, her father roaring. Little Brute panicked and flailed around. Her arm went through one of the chairs. Snow was forming around her, and frost was forming on the wood. A loud crack signalled the collapsing of a roof beam. Part of the roof caved in on her mother.

Brute curled up on herself, seeing the horror she was, the monster that her parents had spawned. She wished they’d put her down.

Little Brute lashed out when her father tried to touch her. The snap of bone rang out, and his roar became one of agony. His arm flapped in a way arms never should.

The young girl charged out through the wall, crawling over leaves that turned to ice the moment she touched them and shattered as she passed.

Arthur Klitzkow went after her. Brute heard the last words between her parents.

“No, you fuckin’ stay there until ya stop bleedin’. Ah’ll get ‘er back. No! Stay!” Her mother obeyed. Lying against the wall, her hand on her head.

“Your arm-“

“Don’t matter,” Arthur snarled, then headed out of the cabin.

Little Brute was running, and she was fast, but not fast enough to get away from his voice. He used his dad’s voice, and she stopped running and turned around. He commanded her to come back but she stamped her foot and said there’d be no more sums, there’d be no more anything like that. She started to grow, and grow, until the trees were getting small compared to her and her father was like a mouse under her. But even then, she was running, shoving trees over in her haste to escape.

“Awright ya li’l brute,” he snarled, “ya broke mah arm, ya broke mah house, come ‘ere ya little shit!”

He reached out with his good hand, and clenched his fist.

Fire exploded in Brute’s head. She screamed, even in Scripture’s arms.

The giant little girl shrank fast and fell, arching backward so far she should have snapped her spine. She clutched her head and spasmed on the floor, screaming and screaming.

“It cannot hurt you, child,” Scripture said, but even that perfect voice was strained. “It cannot. I will not let it.”

“Ah can feel it!” Brute screamed, and she could. The fire was in her mind, and it burned.

“How’s that, huh?” Her father’s words echoed like thunder. “Not so fuckin’ big now, are ya?”

Little Brute rolled over and over, clutching her head. She managed to stand, but only in time to fall backwards against a tree, hit her head…

And it all faded out.

They retreated to a place of quietude. A spotlight was on them with nothing else around or anywhere to be seen. Brute shivered in Scripture’s arms. She could still feel the pain, but it was fading. “Y-Ya said…”

“Even I have my limits, child. I let you see what happened. Your father tormented you with that memory for so long that it has scoured your mind. The pain of that moment, when he unleashed his own mind on yours, has been drilled into you. The event itself has fractured into shards that bleed every time they cut you. And I am not surprised.” He put his arms around her, and hugged her tightly. He reminded her of Mr. Bear. “I am so sorry for you.”

Brute bowed her head. “Ya see, mister? Ya see what ah did?”

“Shh.”

She obeyed. He sounded like a father, though his father’s voice didn’t hurt.

He led Brute on through the corridors of her own mind, through places where the skies were static and the world was a twisted ruin of cracks and smoke, where the sky laughed at her and the ground clawed and sucked at her feet. Nightmare after nightmare, and often Scripture could only sigh and confess that even he did not know what really happened. But other times he pierced the veil, and showed younger versions of Brute hanging from trees like a bat, eyes wide and unseeing, lost in her delusions. And one time she hung by her neck from a rope, swinging like a dead thing with a fixed and dreamy smile upon her face while an honest-to-god birthday cake lay in the grass in front of her.

Scripture did what he could to stop her from falling into the nightmares, but he could do little to save her from the fresh pain that only the truth could bring. Brute had never imagined just how wretched a creature she used to be. She could not understand how he could bear to look on her, let alone to help her.

Eventually, Brute paused at a chasm. Her young self was crossing it on a rope bridge that swung wildly in a howling wind born of her own child’s screaming. Below in the darkness, the things from the fog were writhing, reaching, waiting for her to fall.

Scripture showed that she was in her water form, part-merged with the lake, moving across its surface. Arthur Klitzkow had followed her on a rowing boat, and was fishing quietly while his daughter wrestled in torment.

The truth and the lie were overlaid so cleanly they could have been alternate realities. Brute shook her head. “It ain’t never gonna end, is it?”

Scripture shook his head. “Your mind has been ransacked with determination. There are gaps that cannot be filled by anything. You do not know how you came to this lake, do you?”

“Naw. Ah remember leavin’ the house… but ah don’ remember how or why ah got here.”

Scripture gestured up at the sky. “He left the sky the same. An odd bit of sloppiness, that. He ought to have made it seem like you were underground. Many hours passed between your leaving and arrival.”

Brute looked, and saw it was true. The sun had been rising when she left. It was setting now. “An’ there’s nothin’? No idea what happened?”

“No,” Scripture said. “That time has been destroyed absolutely.”

“Can ah ask somethin’?”

“Of course. This is your mind. I am but a visitor, and at best an artisan here to restore a work of art.”

Brute let that slide off her. If there was any art here it was the damage her father had done. She knew power when she saw it. Power rolled off Scripture like perfume, enough that even her dreamscape world seemed to grow brighter and clearer around him. Even he was perplexed by some of what they saw.

“Can ah…” she turned away from her younger self, the chasm and the wind of screams. “Ah wanna know about Puck. When’d he happen?”

Scripture seemed a little uncomfortable when she asked that question. He regarded a long time with his white, glowing eyes. “You deserve to know,” he said. “But it will hurt as much or more than anything we have seen so far. Your father never wanted you to remember this.”

Brute clenched her jaw. “He don’t get to decahde. That’s up ta you an’ me rahght now, ain’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then show me.”

Scripture inclined his head. “Be strong.” He raised his hand, and waved. All faded to warm whiteness.

Brute’s eyes next alighted on the wood log walls of her room in the cabin. She and Scripture stood in one corner of the room facing the door. Her bed was unoccupied. Young Brute, nine at most, was sat in the farthest corner of the room, looking not at the door but down at the floor.

And somehow, she remembered. She remembered looking at her parent’s heat through the floor, listening to the words they didn’t think she could hear. Her senses had been growing sharper, she recalled, sharper every day. But she never told her parents. She never even talked to them unless they talked to her.

“Look, dahlin’,” Arthur was saying, “jus’ because we’ve had one failure don’t mean it’s over, does it? We can try again, right?”

“Try again?”

“You’re still fertile, ain’t ya?”

“Well I should think so!” She sounded offended at the implication.

“Calm, calm. Ah ain’t takin’ no digs at ya. Ah’m jus’ makin’ a relevant observation. So, given you’re all uppity about bein’ fertile, what’s stoppin’ us?”

There was a moment of quiet, petered out by angry pacing. “I don’t know, Arthur. Eden… she could just be a late bloomer. You know?” Her tone was fretful. “She’s trying. She tries all the sums I give her. She could still be brilliant. Like a caterpillar waiting to be a moth.”

“More like a piece o’ shit tryin’ to be a steak an’ kidney pah. Kid’s got trouble readin’. She might grow out of that, but she ain’t goin’ to grow out of bein’ dumb. You’ve seen it. She cain’t figure out Nietzche, for gawd’s sake! He ain’t that hard! You really think that’s gonna follow in our footsteps? You see her bein’ on the red carpet with ya at ya next movie?” He snorted.

“Well-“

“She’d be an embarrassment. She’s pretty, yeah, but she ain’t you, honey. Ya look in mirrors an’ they go blank for everyone else ‘cuz they don’ want nobody else’s ugly mug in ‘em. Ya know?”

“Oh, Arthur,” she said, and giggled, all the hints of rage gone from her voice. “You are silly sometimes.”

“So she ain’t gonna make mirrors crack. Is that what we want out of our kid? Someone who’s not an embarrassment? Don’ know about you, but ah want a kid who makes me look thick as pigshit. Ah want a kid ah can be proud of. That Brute ain’t it.”

Brute shuddered where she stood. Young Brute clutched Mr. Bear to her chest, eyes closed now, head bowed and pressed into her knees.

“All right, Arthur. We’ll try again. And this time we’ll get it right.”

The sounds faded out. There was just the small room, with them and young Brute, a little girl clinging to her teddy bear, rocking and crying.

“Ah knew,” Brute said, her voice reduced to the softest of whispers. “Ah always knew ah wasn’t good enough. When ah saw Puck out there on the ahce, ah knew. He couldn’t be mah brother, ‘cuz he weren’t nothin’ lahke me.” She clenched her jaw so hard she thought her teeth might shatter.

Scripture sighed. “There are children present in this home, but she is not one of them,” he said, rising and moving to stand before the girl. “This is not what I hoped to do for you, child. I wanted you to see your past for what it is, and stand tall above it.” He gestured. “This is unworthy of the One Race. I would reduce it to salt and ash if I could.” His voice held an edge of anger now, but it melted the moment he saw her recoil. “I only wish you could see yourself through other eyes. There are hundreds of Novas who would sigh to see you in motion. They would be jealous to see your grace at fifteen that they cannot attain at fifty. You are a wellspring of boundless potential, a priceless being that graces the world with her every step.” His hands balled into fists. “These ogres have made you see yourself as a tarnished copper, worthless and without merit.”

His words faded into silence.

Brute hugged herself, feeling ungrateful. Here he was trying to help, and she was… what? Wallowing? Ah don’ know what ah’m supposed to say. What’s he want outta me?

“I want you to smile,” Scripture said, and he sounded somehow tired, “and know you will never frown again.” He stood before her, with a hand on each of her shoulders. “But I see now that not even I can make that dream come true. All I can do is wave aside some cobwebs and let you see what was done.”

Brute looked up at him. “Ah’m sorry, mister. Ah didn’t mean ta waste ya tahme.”

His expression was unreadable. When he spoke, though, his voice seemed tight, and heavy with some incomprehensible emotion. “Let us go somewhere more joyous, Eden. Let us go to your escape from this hell.”

They faded out.

Brute and young Brute looked much alike. Only today’s Brute was clad in purple and black, was washed and clean and her eyes were clear and bright.

Young Brute’s eyes were wide, her clothes were ragged and dirty, and she was lying with one leg bent under her in such a way that it seemed it must be broken. A line of drool was frozen on her chin. Mr. Bear was hugging at her chest. He was the only thing about her that was clean.

“Where did he come from?” Brute asked.

“Your bear?” Scripture shook his head. “I do not know.” His voice rang with disgust. “Your father annihilated that memory more brutally than any other. There is a hole where it would be. The bear has been with you for most of your life, though. I believe between your fourth and fifth years, sometime after the incident where he unleashed his mind on you for the first time.”

“Why?” She asked, crouching down in front of herself, crying as she saw the ruin she had been with clarity for the first time.

“I will tell you when I have that answer.” She thought she knew the tone, though. It said that he knew, but did not want to tell her.

Young Brute shuddered. She moved like a machine coming to life, jerking into a better posture before looking around as if only now seeing the world for what it was. “Mr… bear…” she said, her voice thick with disuse.

“Ah hadn’t spoken for months,” Brute remembered. “Ah jus’ went quiet. None o’ that tahme makes sense.”

“Your grip on reality was gone. It may well have been you were insane by that time. You attempted suicide, I believe. It is difficult to tell in one as resilient as yourself. Regardless, there is remarkably little obvious influence upon your mind during that period. Arthur had no need to.”

Young Brute gathered her legs underneath her. She was sitting in the main room, staring at the door. She looked about, wiped the drool from her mouth, and hugged Mr. Bear. “Gotta go,” she mumbled. “Don’t we, Mr. Bear? We gotta go.”

Run, Brute thought, her eyes filling with tears as she remembered the fear and the hope. You gotta run now or you ain’t never gonna.

Young Brute grabbed a backpack from under the dinner table and slid Mr. Bear into the back. She stumbled to her feet and ran out the door, moving with greater and greater certainty until she was speeding through the trees, the grass crunching underfoot and wind whistling in her ears.

They raced alongside. Brute could see the grim determination on her young face. Keep on runnin’.

She came to a stop on a strip of clear road that cut right through the forest. Yet she knew there was no forest.

There was a blue pickup truck speeding towards her, though.

Young Brute stuck out her hands and the truck skidded to a stop. She leapt up and landed on the bonnet with effortless timing, and easily kept balance until the truck stopped. When it made its final lurch she performed a backflip and landed on her feet in front of it.

Brute recoiled, her face twisting up in horror, even as Young Brute smiled, her face lighting up with joy.

Her father was driving the truck.

“Well hey there li’l missy,” he said, a smiling shape slipping out of the truck like a cat from its den. “Ah coulda done gone run y’all over.”

“Take me to the town,” young Brute said. “Now.”

Arthur, face hidden under a wide-brimmed hat, looked back up the way he’d come. “Are y’all sure about that? Ah could take ya-“

Young Brute grabbed the truck and lifted the front end off the ground. “Take me to the town, or ah’ll do somethin’ y’all gonna regret, mister. You do it rahght now or we’re both gonna end up in trouble.”

“Okay, okay, jus’ put down mah truck an’ we’ll jus’ get rahght along. Okay? Ah guess you’re one of them Nova thingies ah keep seein’ on the news, rahght?”

Young Brute walked around to the back of the truck and hopped up on the flatbed. “Ah guess,” she said.

Brute watched in horror as her father smiled and slipped back into the truck, gunned the engine, and accelerated down the road towards the town.

But as it went, she both saw and remembered seeing the forest melting away like dew in their wake, until only some trees remained, and dust hugged the road on both sides and far into the distance.

“He,” Brute said, “he was there. Ah thought he wasn’t!”

Scripture nodded. “You never escaped him, Eden. He let you go.”

“Why?”

“Come,” Scripture said, taking her by the hand and leading her down the road. “Our journey is nearly at an end. It is time we go to the movies.”

Brute looked up at him. He smiled a benevolent smile, and squeezed her hand. She did not resist as he led her into the whiteness.

When they returned, they were standing in the town. The elements had been unkind to Hope. Most of the buildings were rain-and-wind damaged, some had fallen into rubble.

Scripture walked alongside her through the fog-blurred streets, past houses that were filled with living shadows bearing fixed white smiles. They walked in the wake of Brute’s younger self, two years ago, clad in a rotted woollen jumper and jeans that were more holes than trousers. She talked to herself constantly, and to Mr. Bear.

At a junction, the younger Brute turned and looked at them. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, her mouth hung a little open. She was drooling again.

Scripture’s firm hand closed on her shoulder. “Be strong, child. She cannot see you, remember.”

“But she’s me,” Brute said, her voice hoarse. She felt sick to her stomach. “An’ ah don’t remember this. Ah remember… ah remember…”

“This,” Scripture provided, “only not well.”

They followed young Brute to the ruins of a theatre. There was the skeleton of a roof over the building, and part of it had fallen down. Yet she skipped her way towards it, as if going to a fair.

Brute stared at it, her stomach heavy with dread. She clenched her jaw and followed.

Young Brute made her way through the dark interior, past ticket stands filled with shadows, past half-seen shapes standing in for people. Young Brute went running up the steps and to screen one, and sat herself down in the centre seat. All of the chairs were ruined by rain, but hers crackled and cracked as the stagnant water slowly froze. A faded human skeleton lay upon the stage where the ruins of the screen were. The screen was cracked, broken, and seemed about to fall down. Yet young Brute watched it with wide and adoring eyes, as if she had never seen anything so wondrous.

Scripture and Brute sat down behind her.

She pulled her legs up on her seat and rocked. “This isn’t nahce, mister. Ah’m not sure ah wanna see this.”

“Look behind you, Brute. You must see, and understand. Your tormentor never left your side until you left the town of Hope long behind you.”

Slowly, her sense of dread growing to a towering climax, Brute turned to look past the half-formed shadows in the theatre to the figure who sat in the seat three rows up.

He was all in darkness, not a shadow-thing like the others, but hidden by the real shadows cast from the shattered, skeletal roof. Brute could see a stubbly chin, a smiling mouth busy chewing something. His eyes were hidden under a wide-brimmed hat. His legs were up and feet crossed on the back of the seat in front of him, revealing that he was wearing leather chaps over grey jeans and heavy brown leather boots with stirrups like a cowboy. He was wearing a white string vest and black driving gloves.

“Dad,” Brute whispered, her eyes blurring with tears.

“It’s showtahme,” he drawled, turned his head, spat out a wad of chewing gum.

Brute remembered the sound of it. Dimly now, she remembered the feeling of his body heat on her skin, tickling at the nape of her neck. His was the only signature she felt, the only one she remembered from her time in Hope. Her fingers flexed, and fists clenched. “It’s all a lah,” she whispered, tears spilling from her eyes, “all of it.”

“Not all,” Scripture said, and his angelic voice was full of sympathy, full of love. “Take heart, child. You are not alone here. Not this time.” He took her by the hand. “Watch.”

“It’s gonna hurt, ain’t it?” Brute said, looking at the man beside her, barely able to face him, unable to comprehend how he could have seen all of this and not loathed the sight of her.

Scripture brushed some cold tears from her cheek. “Yes, child. I fear it will.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

The movie began. Flickering images overlaid on that ruined theatre screen. Brute remembered hearing lips moving, the soft pop of them touching and parting again and again. Dad, she thought again. Ah knew all along. An’ ah never turned ‘round.

Yet even as she thought that, young Brute did just that. She turned, and stared for a long time, several minutes, long enough to miss the trailer for a romantic comedy. She turned back to the screen in time to see something more explosive. It was an action movie with speeding cars and people leaping from rooftop to rooftop in dramatic chases. But there were no actors named save the leading lady, and that was Brute’s mother. Other than her there no stars, and nobody had faces, nobody but the girl hit by a car, dropped off a building. “He made me a star,” Brute said, her throat so thick she could barely get words out. “An’ ah’m not even good enough for that.”

There were mock ‘review text’ lines towards the end. All picked out ‘the damsel’ as a subject of scorn, who dragged the movie down while praising the leading lady.

Brute looked over at Scripture, expecting some comment, but the glowing Nova was just sitting, watching, with his warm hand on her cold one. He didn’t seem to mind the cold.

The movie started in earnest.

It was not a movie in the strictest sense. For Brute it was heartbreak given shape and sound and form. It was what-might-have-been, starring Eden Klitzkow, brilliant daughter of Arthur and Samantha, beautiful starlet and girl genius, apple of their eye and worldwide star. It was the first fourteen years of her life as her parents wished them to have been, instead of the growing horror they got.

Brute tried to keep quiet, but she was sniffing before long and bawling by the end, weeping openly into Scripture’s sleeve while the older Nova gently stroked her hair. “This was ill-done,” he said, his voice so soft it could barely be heard.

“It was all mah fault,” Brute said. “Ah wasn’t who they wanted. Ah failed ‘em. Ya see, mister? Ya see why this happened?” She could say nothing more.

“Yes,” Scripture replied, his voice gaining an edge now, a cold emotional edge as sharp as a knife. “Oh yes, Eden. I see completely.”

Brute had managed to stop bawling by the end of the credits. Young Brute sat in front of her, face frozen in an expression of slack-jawed amazement, as if she were watching something wonderful, tears flowing soundlessly down her face. Mr. Bear was on her lap, cradled in her arms.

The shadow of her father rose. Brute curled up on herself, watching him in the very edge of her vision.

Smooth as a cat, he slid over the chair behind her, passing right through Scripture, and walked along behind young Brute. He seemed tall and slender, and I the movie was to be believed, he was a handsome man, more handsome and more beautiful than the daughter fate had rudely inflicted on him.

Arthur Klitzkow mussed her hair. “Ah think we’re done here, Brute,” he said. His voice deep and heavily accented by the American South. “Your mother an’ me got a son on the way, she’s all done got herself into that chrysalis thang. Ah reckon we’re gonna get it rahght this time, an’ neither o’ us need you hangin’ aroun’ draggin’ this family down an’ poisonin’ your kid brother. Far as we’re concerned, y’all never happened.” He leaned down by her ear. “So listen ta me. You don’t got no brother, Brute. You don’t got no home. And ah don’t never want to hear about ya ever again. We kept ya safe from Proteus for fifteen damn years an’ ya never were worth a minute o’ that tahme. So get ya ass out o’ here, Brute. Get outta our lahves and see jus’ what we were savin’ ya from, ya ungrateful shit.”

Brute twitched in her seat, every word a punch to her gut. “Yes, daddy,” she whispered. “Ah’ll be good. Ah’ll go.”

Young Brute said the same, but her voice was sing-song, dreamy.

Arthur straightened up, and nodded. “Well awright then. Good luck, kid. Dang idiot like you, ah reckon ya gonna need it. Ain’t no room in this world for someone without a brain. That damn bear o’ yours got more chance o’ livin’ a full life than you do.”

Then he strode out onto the aisle, walked up the stairs, and left.

Brute buried her head in her arms. “This weren’t nahce, mister,” she whispered. “It weren’t nahce at all.”

“No, child,” Scripture said, and Brute thought that even his perfect, musical voice was as fragile as glass. “It is time to wake. I cannot take away the pain or erase the crimes your father committed against you. But I can at least let you see them for what they are.”

“It was mah fault, mister,” Brute said, raising her head to look at her younger self, loathing her own existence more than ever before. “Ah was so dang dumb. Y’all saw the movie. Ah was all wrong from the day ah was born. All they wanted-“

“Was something they had no right to expect,” Scripture said. His voice sounded like cracking glass. “One day, Eden, I pray that you will see that. But know this. I may not be able to convince you of the evil done against you here, nor that you did not bring it on yourself, but your father was wrong. You do have a brother, and you have not poisoned him at all.”

“Puck,” Brute said, shivering, knowing that he was everything their parents wanted. They did get it right the second time. “He ain’t no failure. Not lahke me.”

“These are your memories, Brute,” Scripture said, as the theatre began to fade. “Your treasure, painful as it is.”

Young Brute rose, putting Mr. Bear into her backpack and slinging it onto her back. She made sure he was in nice and tight.

Brute nodded, wishing her young self well. Y’all go run, Brute. Run and don’ never look back.

“What do you wish me to tell your brother when we emerge?” Scripture said, his voice a fading whisper. “What of this should he know?”

Young Brute turned to face her, and then stepped nimbly onto the back of her chair. She ran effortlessly down the line of chairs, leapt up and clung to a small hole in the wall, and from there leapt up onto the edge of the theatre roof, with the grey and rolling sky above her. She paused up there and adjusted her backpack, slowly fading away.

Brute waved to her. Y’all run. An’ don’t never look back.

Young Brute looked back, directly at her, and smiled. Then she turned and leapt, and disappeared.

Brute lowered her head. “Tell him everythin’,” she whispered. “He oughta know what his sister is.”

“As you wish.”

The theatre faded away, and Brute was alone in darkness. She closed her eyes. “This hurt, mister. It hurt bad.”

Scripture’s voice came to her from far away. “I know, Eden, better than you might think. You are not the first child to disappoint a father.”

Brute opened her eyes to seek him, to enquire. But he was gone, and with him, the dream.

She felt his arms around her, cradling her against his chest. Mr. Bear was in her arms, his own fluffy arms hugging her chest. She could feel tears freezing on her cheeks. Brute sniffed, and rubbed her face into his robes.

Scripture gently laid Brute down on the chair he had been sitting on, holding her with a father’s tenderness until she unwound enough to sit.

Brute pulled some of the tears off her face and tossed them away. Puck was at her side in a moment. She managed to twitch a smile at him, though she did not feel it. Hopefully he would see it as her saying she was okay.

Puck put his hand on her arm. She almost pulled away, as though his touch burned. He was too perfect to look on. Brute managed to gaze into his eyes, shaking. “It shoulda been you, Puck,” she forced out. “It shoulda been you.”

He opened his mouth to say something, frowning, but Scripture cut him off.

“Puck, come with me. Infinity may come also, if you wish. Eden will need some time alone, I think, and you must know what was learned here today.”

“You said some of the damage is bound up in her quantum signature,” Puck said, moving to follow Scripture yet looking back at Brute, almost as if torn between obeying and running back to her side.

“I will explain in a moment. Come now, and say no more.”

Puck obeyed, but he waved to Brute before he and Infinity disappeared into the next room.

Brute clutched Mr. Bear to her chest, thinking about what she had seen and learned about her past. She supposed it was better to know than not to… but that didn’t stop the pain in her heart. Ah should go, she thought. But she knew she would stay.

After all, who else would take her?

[Shosuro Miren]

Puck tried to lead them just to the conversation room next to his office; Scripture gently but firmly moved them farther down, eventually stepping into the master studio. This would not be an easy conversation and he hoped that the young man's attachment to art and the studio would help to keep him calm and get passed the pain that would come from this conversation.

They took their seats, the two young novas on side of a workbench and Scripture on the other. The older Terat sighed and spoke as soothingly as he could, "Synapse was correct. Eden's condition is the result of years of telepathic abuse at the hands of her father. Her parents-"

"Our parents," Puck interjected, his voice that same low growl Infinity had heard on the boat. Scripture paused, then nodded his head, conceding the point.

"Your parents were disappointed that she did not develop more along their own lines. They did not value her physical prowess, and after pushing her too far as a small child and suffering from her reaction emotional duress, your father decided to try to force her to become what they wanted. As the years passed and it became apparent that she would not conform, he simply began to abuse her, taking out his anger and disappointment on her mind. I have repaired what I can of her memory, but will always be holes in her mind, places that he ripped out-"

The wood table creaked and part of it broke off in Puck's hand, crumbling to splinters and dust as his fist closed. "They - he...," his anger choked off his words and Scripture reached a hand across the table, his touch warm on Puck's hand. "I will deal with your father, Puck-"

"No! That's not-" His pale skin was flushed dark red, the blood pulsing against the iridescent sheen that covered his skin.

Scripture's expression hardened. "I will deal with him, child. You have no defenses against his powers and your emotions cloud your judgement."

Silence descended over the room for a long moment. Scripture knew that Puck wouldn't let this go so easily, but the boy said nothing more on the matter.

"What did he do to her?" When he asked, Puck's voice was deceptively quiet and calm.

"He abuse-"

"What did he do? Just taking her memories wouldn't leave her like that. Wouldn't affect her goddamn quantum signature!" His eyes narrowed at his one-time teacher and foster parent, his fists clenched on the table in front of him. "Tell me. How can I help her if I don't understand what happened to her? What she went through?"

[Quantum Fire]

He sighed

"Eden possesses an extreme vulnerability to psychic phenomenon, inherited from her mother, her

father"

He paused, there was strong tone of complete undeserved at the last word, as though he felt that it was a title not deserved.

"Her father took advantage of that when she didn't live up to her parents expectations, after she was frightened by her parents when young and badly hurt both of them by accident, her father made use of his telepathic capabilities to control her and shape her memories in a manner that I can only call extreme child abuse. He twisted her memories, overlaid them with illusion and mirages, filling her mind with thoughts and memories that were not true,

and completely destroying some of the past to such a degree that she has difficulty knowing what was true and what was illusion. He tore and ripped at her mind so completely that her memory of the past will always be unclear. With her psychic vulnerability, it attached her memories to not just her mind, but to her quantum signature, but that was a potential that she already had, a potential that he exploited. What is worse, is that he told her she was unworthy and used his abilities to make her believe it. The man has no business raising a daughter, he would have done better to let someone else raise her, they would have done a better job, though he did protect her from hunters, at the very least, and they did treat her with love her first few years, I have nothing good to say about the later years."

Scripture watched Puck closely as he reacted to his words, then he shifted into Bodha to complete the information to give Puck a more complete understanding of what he was talking about.

[Shosuro Miren]

The bones in Puck's hands creaked and groaned as he clenched them harder, listening to the litany of crimes his father had committed against his sister. Maybe my Chrysalis was just a self-defense mechanism. To get the hell away from that bastard.

"Kyt'en?" His eyes were ice-blue chips of the coldest depths of Hell and should have bored holes through the table, "O'saren de'yen sa Eden. Vo'os rae lel?"

Scripture sighed as he watched the young nova focus his anger so intensely. "Shen ti'e nakal Eden beyel."

"Belan zen - ekal mi tor?"

"Pri'dey'en Teragen maen. Makor ser therune."

Puck's head snapped up, "Vaes? De'e?"

"Jan lo annu, neru," Scripture held his hands out, palms up. "Sobel an'wyn kai Teragen. Trey'ven kel. Sorune. Pel'or'an. Teras'an. Sey'ven anth perora Teragen ut'teran," He reproved Puck gently, though his next words were hard and held just a hint of his own anger. "Belor'Eden shovan kal rean'os pe dru'as Teragen. De u va'an keor. Nian. Des olar."

"Keor'tan?" Puck shouted. "Beus danun fe'et tra'Eden de'man'ir. Eden tal reus ke vanu De'meru? Chian tir alu'karan!" Puck's voice dropped to match the bone-chill cold of his eyes, "'Keor'tan' ver? Jen-"

"Puck," Scripture's voice was soft, but the pale boy stopped short at the power of it. "E'neran. Se thura tai. Benu - benu'ai - ker toshan-"

"Keru'sen. Keru ta'en keru De'meru. Keru Eden. Keru Infinity. Keru De'meru'sha, keru na, keru Bounty, keru Divis, keru ta - ai'keru. Kal ohmen ve'en re," Puck spat out the last, every drop of rage and venom he could muster infused in those words.

"Gae'thenu."

"Iniru."

"Puck-"

"Keru van. Toran den Eden shai'ru. Eden aleru kai voral. Loren sai peru kal vores. Eden'on uru, Scripture! Ha'teru trei os, ha'teru den pol erush'nai!" The rage in him wouldn't stop, roiling with sorrow and fear and anger and the need to fix what was broken - by healing Eden, by ensuring that their parents never had the chance to harm another child like that again. He needed to do something and he had no idea even where to start. He glared at his friend and teacher, at the voice of reason and compassion he couldn't listen to anymore. "Del'erun'chey? Iniru'tal!"

Tranlation

"Did she know?" His eyes were ice-blue chips of the coldest depths of Hell and should have bored holes through the table, "You said she - our mother - that Eden inherited that vulnerability from her. Did she know or did he keep her - change her memories, too?"

Scripture sighed as he watched the young nova focus his anger so intensely. "From what memories I could find and restore she knew, at least that he was attempting to rewrite her mind and that it wasn't working. At best I suspect she kept herself in denial; at worst she simply did not care once it became obvious that Eden would not be the protege she wanted."

"Why did they have - why would they think I'd be different?"

"They joined the Teragen to learn how to focus their own evolution. I assume that they reasoned that doing so would allow them to conceive a more acceptable child."

Puck's head snapped up, "And they were allowed to? For that?"

"Others have joined for even less noble reasons, young one," Scripture held his hands out, palms up. "It is not for any of us to allow or deny a nova to join the Teragen. They procured a mentor to teach them and learned what they desired. They made connections and allies amongst our numbers. That was their desire. Their path. Nothing they have done since joining the Teragen has been such that they would be shunned," He reproved Puck gently, though his next words were hard and held just a hint of his own anger. "Their crimes against their daughter, against a fellow nova that was both defenseless and neither a threat nor an enemy to the Teragen were not known. They will be... reprimanded, I assure you. Most especially your father."

"Reprimanded?" Puck shouted. "They tore apart the mind of their own child simply because she wasn't enough like them. Imagine how Eden would be today if she'd been sent to the Nursery? Or even just raised by someone with compassion and a soul!" Puck's voice dropped to match the bone-chill cold of his eyes, "And you want to 'reprimand' them. They deserve-"

"Puck," Scripture's voice was soft, but the pale boy stopped short at the power of it. "They will be dealt with. This is a crime that will not go unpunished. What you are thinking - what you are planning - your family has already-"

"They are not my family. My family is here and the Nursery. Eden is my family. Infinity is my family. The other children in the Nursery, you, Bounty, Divis, the people here in this building - that is my family. Those two are no more than a sperm donor and an incubator," Puck spat out the last, every drop of rage and venom he could muster infused in those words.

"Then let them go."

"Never."

"Puck-"

"They hurt my family. The abused her and then ran her off because they thought they had a replacement all ready. She spent years running, without even knowing why. She was attacked because they never taught her about the dangers, the people, in the world that would want her dead just for being what she is. She thinks she's evil, Scripture! 'Bad' because she defended herself, 'bad' because that's what that bastard told her!" The rage in him wouldn't stop, roiling with sorrow and fear and anger and the need to fix what was broken - by healing Eden, by ensuring that their parents never had the chance to harm another child like that again. He needed to do something and he had no idea even where to start. He glared at his friend and teacher, at the voice of reason and compassion he couldn't listen to anymore. "And you want me to just let it go? Never!"

[Quantum Fire]

Scripture looked at Puck for a long moment. "Puck, ter'ken'da nath rekia indisva, nera ken, Eden? Sae mytra ncra? Sy necra idae?" Scripture shook his head, he wasn't pleased with the way this was going. Even as he spoke, the agitation from Puck was beginning to cause a quantum flux within his being, a flux that grew even more pronounced, as energy begin to shift and flow around Puck and Scripture reached out and pulled Infinity back from him even as Puck was beginning to develop a cocoon around himself, a chrysalis of energy that was familiar to every terat present, though the feel of it was slightly different. Scripture recognized it though, as the last nova to go though this effect was Surge, or Norman and that time had been in the midst of the conflict with Tarok and Marcel.

"HOLD" He let the commanding words flow out to everyone else present, though he shifted it around Puck, the young portent was about to transform, a glorious thing, even if the discussion involved wasn't at all, it wasn't loud but it was absolute, no one else in the room could act as Puck began to change, and in an extremely familiar sensation, a full chrysalis cocoon formed around the young nova, his self was in the process of transformation and evolution, and Scripture watched and waited, for Puck to come out of it again, which would be within a minute or two at the longest.

Translation

"Puck, you can not fix this, and your desire to take steps in this will take it from justice into vengeance, which will do more harm then good, and what of Eden? What if she needs to face them at some point to complete her healing, will you take that from her? Also, I wish to act here, would you take the right to act from me?"

Apotheosis oncoming, in a manner fitting to archetype, difficulty 3

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3257624/

[Brute]

She stayed where she was for a while, just curled up on her seat hugging Mr. Bear and trying to come up with some sort of answer. But what answer was there?

Ah’m broke, she thought. It felt final in her head, like the tolling of a bell. She always knew that, of course. But having someone like Scripture go in there, someone wise and powerful and with a funny head who knew all about the mind only to turn round and admit he couldn’t help…

What would Puck say when he heard?

Brute rose and walked to the window, still holding Mr. Bear and nuzzling into the back of his head. New York City stretched out below and – in a few places – above her.

Was this home, now? It didn’t really feel like it. The closest thing to a home she had ever had was that igloo in the arctic.

Ah could go back, she thought, but there was nothing there. Not really. Nothin’ that’s gonna keep me happy for the next x years. Brute had no idea how old she would live. She recalled her mother saying she might be immortal, and her dad talking about how her cellular structure seemed indestructible, and how he never detected any degradation.

Now when the hell did ah overhear that? Cain’t be from the last few years. Mom was in ‘chrysalis’ whatever that is. She gave up. It was impossible to find the answer, and dangerous to think about it too hard.

All of a sudden she felt angry. Incredibly, unspeakably angry at herself for being so useless, so incapable of fixing herself and the rest of the world the way the OpNet said Novas were meant to. Good Novas did, anyway. Bad Novas didn’t. So she supposed that made her a bad Nova, at least for now. She could be a good Nova if she fixed the world one day, but that idea seemed so far away that she probably couldn’t have seen it if somebody tied her to a missile and fired her in its general direction.

Her rage found a focus other than her for once. Mr. Bear.

He had been there so long, almost untouched by the horrors she had felt and seen. Now he looked almost pristine, used by long years of hugging, but other than that he looked way better than she felt. It didn’t feel fair. She held Mr. Bear at arm’s length, glaring at him, and for a moment wanted to rip him into fluffy pieces and spread them all around the room, just to do something other than cry the way she always did.

But then she thought about the aftermath, and the thought of that was so desolate and sad that she burst into tears immediately. The desolation in her mind was hell, and hell because if Mr. Bear was hurt, Brute would be the only one who knew what happened, and she didn’t even know all that well. She would be alone with her shattered memory and her broken past, her guilt and her self-hate forever.

She dropped to her knees, clutching the bear, whispering apologies for thinking what she thought, wondering why her father even bothered to let her live. He had wanted to spare Puck from meeting her, being poisoned by her, and here she was, poisoning him.

He had been happy until he met her. She was sure of that. Puck smiled when he saw her – mostly – but she knew he was sad behind the smile. Or maybe she just suspected that.

Then she heard Puck shouting. The sound filled her with horror and for a moment she was a child again in a log cabin, listening to her father sweetly persuading his wife to have another, better child. She knew he’d be angry when Scripture showed him what she was. How could he not be? He was right. He was what she should have been.

If ah hadn’t been born, everyone’d be happy. Everyone.

She backed up into the corner of her room and pulled up her legs to hug her knees, tightening herself into the smallest ball she could, even dislocating a joint or two to make herself smaller than was entirely normal. But she clung to Mr. Bear, never letting go.

He was never angry with her. He understood.

Brute tried to remember the good things Puck had said about her, the nice things he said to try and make her happy, but they all faded in her mind. In her ears she heard her father’s last words to her again, and now she was old enough to know why he said them and what they meant.

Her hands itched. She remembered the helicopter crushing in her fist, watching the heat signatures inside growing brighter as she squeezed the blood out of them like sponges. Or was that someone else? Her father’s arm breaking, her mother’s skin ripping, the polar bear roaring as she tore its limbs off… it all stormed in her mind, and she felt herself falling away.

But then her head cleared, and she felt, clean and pure, the touch of Mr. Bear’s fluffy little paws on either side of her neck.

Brute deflated. The angry noises had stopped.

Like ah’m worth bein’ angry about, she thought, bitterly. Ah’m a gawdamn joke, an’ the punchline ain’t even funny. She knew she should think better. No wonder Puck berated her. She knew she should think better. He’d get tired eventually, and kick her out. Just like her dad did. Or maybe he’d do everyone a favour and finish her off.

Ah don’t wanna wallow, she told herself, ah don’t.

They were desperate thoughts, born of the learning her parents forced on her. She knew enough of psychology to be at least a little aware of what was happening to her, of the things she was doing wrong inside her own head. But the knowledge was meaningless and useless. Brute knew what was wrong with her and did not have a clue what to do. All that her knowledge resulted in was a feeling of crushing powerlessness, a futile wailing against the raw screaming agony of the pain in her heart.

It had taken nineteen months of running for her to realize the truth. Ya can run from ya past, she thought, but y’all gonna get tahred before it does. And she did feel tired, so very, very tired.

Brute she sat in the corner, no longer cowering but still balled up tight, feeling physically fine but mentally exhausted, like Atlas holding up the sky of her own battered soul, trying not to look up at the darkness hiding behind the clouds.

[Shosuro Miren]

Puck felt something happening to him but it didn't penetrate his rage enough for him to panic before he was entirely subsumed by the cocoon of the Chrysalis.

I...I know this. I remember this. What's happening?

Inside the cocoon time seemed to be stilled as his being, his body, his mind broke down and rearranged itself, reaching outward for the answers to his rage and his fear. He was energy, pure quantum, within the crystalline structure that had formed around him. That energy gathered in for just over a minute and then pulsed, pushing out a wave of quantum energy like star explosion that his race was named for. It hit Scripture and Infinity first, like a tsunami wave crashing over them, then washed over Eden only a few rooms over. It made it's way towards the stars, out over the buildings and park around them, and down the floors of the building; by the time it washed over the baselines eating dinner at Gateway or working out in the gym, relaxing in the spa, or even attending some mandatory corporate "Leadership" seminar in the Greater Salon, it was gentle crest, a feeling of goosebumps over the skin and whisper across the nape of the neck.

Inside the cocoon if felt like centuries as the new patterns that now were Puck began to form, building on one another until they consumed the cocoon itself and Puck stumbled back over the bench he'd been sitting at at the table. He landed with a graceless thud and stayed laid out on the floor, one foot still caught on the bench, too dazed and overwhelmed to do more than blink and attempt to understand the sensations flooding through him.

"Del....del'na ae? Scripture?" He sounded distracted, even a little frightened. His anger was still there, pulsing in his mind and telling him that he could act now, that he'd been given what he needed and only needed to pull those new gifts forth to wreak his vengeance on his progenitors. His hand flexed and something was there to hold, a blade made of quantum and stained with the black and red of rage, studded through just above the grip with a quantum-forged faceted diamond the size of a large marble. Purity in the midst of fury.

Puck stared at it, then swallowed and forced his anger away, willing the wicked looking implement of vengeance gone - for now. There was too much...to much. He could feel the building, feel the currents of quantum and emotions and thoughts of the novas and baselines there. Not just there - over most of Manhattan.

What just happened? What's going on?

He shook his head and stood up slowly. His entire body - his entire being - ached. As he emerged from below the table, Infinity and Scripture could see the marks of change in him. It wasn't that he looked different, he just looked more. There was a splendor and deep confidence traced into his appearance that simply hadn't been there moments before. He'd had a boyish charm before, an innocence that charmed nearly everyone who'd ever seen him smile, but it was still a boyish charm. Now he was become a man, if a currently confused one; even his clothes clung tighter on him as his frame was more muscular and toned than it had been mere minutes before.

He looked between the other two novas in the room. "Infinity? Scripture? Del'na ae?" His brow creased and he frowned. "Deran na'Eden. Shayle...kora'an shayle."

Translation

Del'na ae? - roughly What just happened? Am I okay? Is the place/area/people nearby okay?

Deran na'Eden. Shayle....kora'an shayle. - roughly Eden is upset/needs help. I/We should go to her and check on/help her.

The Wave:

The nova-like wave is just scene fluff.

[z-Infinity]

"Puck, fuck! Are you alright?" Inifinity, unlike Scripture, had no idea what was happening. She knew the chrysalis cocoon; had seen Puck's not long after he'd arrived at the nursery. It looked like her friend had gone into and out of Chrysalis, but she'd never heard of a such a short duration on the process. She knelt next to him; started to touch him and stopped. She wasn't sure she should touch him.

"Fine," he said, though he neither looked nor sounded fine. "Please check on Eden."

"You don't look fine," Infinity insisted, not willing to take orders from Puck after that stunt.

"I'll be fine if you check on my sister! Please, Infinity. She need someone," Puck said, and his tone was clear: he was in no shape to help her.

"Fine," Infinity huffed, her lips tightening. Angrily, she rose from the bench and headed into the next room. At the door, she took a deep breath to calm herself. If Eden was upset, she didn't need Infinity to barge in already upset and angry. It took longer than she liked, but when Infinity opened the door, she was smiling. "Eden, hon? You okay?"

[Brute]

Brute did not respond much when she felt the quantum rush. Her skin tingled and something clicked with famliarity inside her head, but she did not know what it was and had no words to explain it. She was still wrapped up trying to figure out what to do with herself, and trying to find some way to crawl out of her own overwhelming self-pity and sense of worthlessness. And failing.

When she heard Infinity’s voice, Brute looked up for the first time in a while. She tried to make herself smile but just couldn’t do it. “Naw. It ain’t. Ah’m broke, an’ ah don’t know how ta fix it. Ya friend wit’ the funny head don’t know how to fix me, either.”

She unfurled a little, her arms and legs sliding easily back into their sockets. She put her legs out flat on the floor, and sat Mr. Bear down in her lap. Even he looked a little sad.

“Y’all must feel like Puck’s wastin’ his tahme wit’ me.” She shook her head. “He’s nahcer than ah am.” Then she frowned. “What was that… um… thing ah felt a bit ago? It was somethin’ weird.”

[Quantum Fire]

"You have taken the final step, Puck, your now entirely evolved, a living example to the philosophy of teras, as Norman became only last year and.. " Scripture paused, then he looked over the young nova moment and inclined his head slightly. "Wait... I just felt something, I suspect you may have felt it also, from what I am picking up, allow me to explain what we are sensing, someone else in this building with nova potential just erupted in response to the quantum pulse that came from you as you achieved apotheosis. " He paused a moment in concentration as tasted and evaluated the information that was available to him. "Ah, Dr. Loshe, you should go speak to her, after we have a few words with young Eden."

Scripture then turned and walked back into the room just as Brute/Eden was speaking. "No one here believes you are a waste of time, Eden, that is a lie your father taught you to believe, but it is a lie. As to being broken, you are hurt, but there is much that I can do for you even now. But no nova is truly a waste of time, dangerous perhaps, but all of us are dangerous, I can be incredibly destructive when I chose to be.."

[z-Infinity]

Scripture walked in before Infinity could reassure Eden. Her heart hurt for the young girl; the abuses she had suffered made Infinity feel so lucky to have grown up in the Nursery. She waited until Scripture was done speaking before she said, "Brute, look, all novas have value. They are never a waste of time. Even me, someone with no powers isn't a waste of time." And it was true; she'd always believed this to be true. She clung to that belief as the core of her self-esteem. She was a nova, and that meant something, damnit. "And beyond that, you're Puck's sister. That makes you family, and family is never a waste of time."

She looked at Scripture. "As for what that was... Scripture? Have you figured out what happened to Puck?" The worry in Infinity's voice was gratifying to the very young nova.

[Shosuro Miren]

"That...um. That was me," Puck said from the doorway, uncertainy and sheepishness coloring his words. He'd sounded amazing before, his voice always just the right pleasant pitch and tone, but now it was more. Everything about him was more. He looked almost the same, but somehow was more handsome, even more manly than he had been just ten minutes ago. He looked maybe older, too. Less like a teenager, anyways.

He saw her flinch back from him, just the smallest of muscle twitches and a microsecond blink of her eyes; she couldn't stop looking at him, but he could tell that his different-ness now scared her. He stepped into the room and sat down on the floor next to her, taking one of her hand's in his own. "Hey." He didn't say anything else for a long moment, he just held her hand, running his fingers over the back of her palm, and leaned against her with his head on her shoulder. He wasn't sure if he was giving comfort or taking it...probably both...but eventually he did speak again.

"Eden, you're not a waste of time," his voice was a silk caress, even with the tone of unarguable steel in words. "Ever. Our...parents...are a waste of time." He eyes challenged Scripture to naysay him on that, but he didn't stop speaking. "You were hurt. It's okay to be hurt, to feel hurt. Healing doesn't always happen all at once. Just promise me you won't give up on trying? Please?"

His entire being was pleading with her; as much as she needed help to heal the wounds of her past, he needed her and Infinity and Scripture to be there for him right now, too. "This," he squeezed her hand and then pulled her onto his lap and into a tight but gentle hug, "this is family. You. Me. Infinity. Scripture. Others you haven't even met yet, but they're the family I grew up with and you'll be family too. We don't always get along or agree, but we are there for each other and we don't give up on each other." He glanced up at Infinity, sadness and teasing mixing into the seriousness of his tone, "Even when sometimes wish they would."

He hugged Eden again, speaking softly in her ear, "So, no giving up. No thinking you're worthless. If you can't believe it just for yourself right now, beleive it for me. Okay?"

[Brute]

When Puck returned, Brute felt her world fall into tailspin. He had changed. Somehow, someway, Puck had changed. He wasn’t her brother anymore. He was something even more, something so painfully better than her and so much more what their parents wanted that it seemed she ought to die right there and then and just cease to be.

She shrank back, but the look on his face relaxed her at the same time. She watched dully as he crossed the room to her and took her hand. His skin felt so soft and fine, he was so incredibly handsome now. No, that wasn’t the word. There wasn’t a word. None she knew. She felt stupider than ever. What did she have? Pretty? Every word she thought of seemed an insult to what her brother had somehow, incomprehensibly, become.

His words were like a warm wind around her, soothing, blowing away the pain, soothing the agony in her soul.

“Ah feel lahke ah’m back in mah head,” she muttered, right back into his ear, her breath freezing cold. “Ya barely look real anymore, Puck. Man, if our parents could see ya now.” A shudder went through her. She remembered the movie her father showed her. The childhood she never had, the person she never was. The failure she became. “They’d be proud, Puck. Y’all are exactly what they wanted me to be. Ah shouldn’t never o’ been born, Puck. Shoulda just been you.”

It felt oddly good to put it into words like that. They weren’t just sounds racing around in her mind like rats in a maze. Or maybe it just felt better because she was telling him.

The feeling of Puck’s arms around her gave her more strength than she could have believed. Who cared if she failed herself? But she would not fail him. “But ah was born, an’ ah guess ah ain’t goin’ away. So okay, Puck. Ah’ll stop whahnin’. Ah don’t mean to. Ah don’t. Ah wanna be better but… it hurts, Puck.” She cried again, more gently this time, and buried her face in his neck. “It hurts so much ah cain’t even fahnd the words. But ah’ll try to be strong for ya. Ah was strong for Mr. Bear before. Ya ain’t as fluffy as him, but ah guess you’ll do, too. Y’all can be an honorary Mr. Bear.”

[Shosuro Miren]

He smiled and she could feel a laugh bubble through his chest. "I think I'd like that. Honorary Mr. Bear. You think the real Mr. Bear will be okay with that?" His tone was teasing, but a gentle tease without any meanness or condescension. Brute gave a snuffly nod and snuggled closer to her brother.

The two sat there on the floor, hugging each other and taking comfort from each other's simple existence for while, lost to their own small world for the time being. Puck could hear Infinity and Scripture speaking near them; he could hear just about everyone in the building that was talking or moving or just breathing, but for now none of it matter. Eden was safe and they were going to help her until she could help herself. Things were going to be alright somehow. For now, that filled his whole world. Everything else could wait.

[Quantum Fire]

End of Thread

XP: 3 Standard, 2 Baseline, 4 Nova