[Fiction] A Day in the Life of SuperGeek [NC] [AU]

[BlueNinja]

Author's Note:

This story is background of a former PC and therefore has absolutely no relation to the N! PCs. And even should N! PCs possess the means to reach this universe, I don't see why they would want to. Some mature scenes will pop up eventually, and those posts will be marked accordingly. The topic is written in a sort of diary entry style, so will be frequent to frequent digressions. Being Mega-Intelligent means never having to restrain your thoughts.

----

Most people out there spend hoards of money on memory aids, whatever the next wonder pill is they expect and hope will give them the perfect recall to look like a contestant on Jeopardy. No one wants to be stuck, old and frail, not being able to tell the real world apart from their memories – if they can even still access them. But what they really want is a selective memory.

I can remember everything in crystal clarity. I can remember the first time I kissed the woman I loved, the first time I mentally tapped into my computer and controlled it, the first thrill of using my telekinesis, the first time I accepted an invitation to Rodi's New Year's Bash.

But I also remember the bad times. I can remember the look of heartbreak on Clio's face when she left me, the first time I watched someone get hurt because of my decisions, the first time I killed someone with my powers, and definately the first (and only) time I accepted an invitation to Rodi's New Year's Bash.

Would anyone, baseline or nova, really want a perfect recall if they couldn't erase those bad memories, if they could find themselves literally unable to forgive and forget.

On the Day Before I Became a Nova, I thought that having a perfect memory was the best thing I could get. Now I know better.

- Michal Wesson, 31 Dec 2018.

[BlueNinja]

Let me tell you a little about what I was like when I was a baseline. I grew up the son of a barely-functional alcoholic, an anti-nova bastard who somehow managed to run a construction company worth almost a million dollars. I was a skinny kid, completely not the big, dumb, manly-man my father wanted. My mom died when I was young, ironically enough killed by another drunk driver while bringing my inebriated father home from some party. I grew up constantly hiding from my dad when he was in the bottle, getting harassed at school because I was small, weak, and brilliant.

So, despite the trust fund I had from my grandparents to pay for college, I got a full ride scholership to UC Berkeley, as far away from Illinois as I could get. I spent my first semester acclimating, getting all the general requirements out of the way, and settling into the groove of the computer-savvy. Then the second semester, I went for broke - signed up for nineteen credits in mostly engineering courses.

On the Twenty-first of May, two thousand and eight, I returned to my dorm room. I had just finished my fencing 'final,' a round robin contest between the students, and came in third, and I was just trying to finish up my papers for my last two classes - History and English. Fortunately, my roommate, a second-string fullback, was not present. He and his teammates learned first semester not to screw with me, after one of them came up with failing grades in every class - the Berkeley computer isn't easy to get into, but it's possible.

So I was going through my notes and my outlines, finishing up typing and proofreading, when he finally came back. “Hey, Wimpy, I’m pulling a three point two grade average this semester. Whadda ya think of that?”

I just smiled, facing the computer screen as I shuffled through a stack of schematics for electrical engineering. “I’ve still got a three point nine three, Ricky.” Plus I had a webcam video of him having sex with one of his female professors to keep up that astoundingly high average. “Better luck next semester.” Which, if I have anything to say about it, I’ll be in a different dorm with a roommate who I can hold an intelligent conversation with, I thought.

So as I'm sitting there working my ass off to maintain my almost straight-A average, he bring over the party. The football team is all there,plus the cheerleaders and the usual sluts for popularity. For four hours, I'm sitting at my computer, typing and double checking notes, while a quarterback is drinking from a bear helmet on my head, half-naked girls keep bumping against my chair on their way to the bathroom, and of course the loud music and conversations that happen at any party.

Despite this, I was almost done with everything when they started drifting away, and by the time was empty of everyone except me, Ricardo, and one cheerleader passed out in his bed (I hope she regretted that in the morning). I was printing out my papers, while he was cleaning up the bottles, and it happened. I reached for my twenty-page History paper on the importance of armored divisions during World War Two, and he spilled a half bottle of Jack Daniels over it.

Unfortunately, I don't remember what happened next, but I did get to see the videos from the campus security cameras. Ricky, fleeing for his life from me, surrounded by a cloud of swirling papers, books, and other random objects, as well as two indistinct shapes that weren't picked up well by the electronics. At some point, he fell down one of the hills on campus, I lost sight of him, and then one of the campus professors showed up. Doctor Richard Johnson, a psychiatrist who's done some work with Project Utopia, hit me with something that I think was Mox, and I went down.

When I woke up, I was in a Rashoud facility.

- Michal Wesson, 2 Jan 2019.

[BlueNinja]

When I woke up, I found myself in an utterly sterile room, on a cheap mattress on a tiny aluminum frame. There was a sink set into one wall, with water that tasted like disinfectant. My clothing was gone, and I was in one of those paper hospital gowns, the kind that barely cover enough for modesty. I sat there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what the hell happened to me, when a clunk and a hissing sound came from the door. It opened - the damn thing looked to be four inches thick, two different layers of vitrium covered in aluminum - and a guy in a lab coat stepped through.

Of course, the lab coat isn't what I first noticed about him. What I first noticed was the fact that his skin and hair were a lovely metallic silver, and that he was glowing. All the pieces clicked, and I looked up at him from the bed. "Cool." I said. He just smiled. I'm sure, that in the four years Silverlight had been with Utopia, he'd heard far more witty and insightful statements from the newly-erupted.

To make a very boring day sound shorter, I spent a good six hours testing all of the powers I'd demonstrated in my eruption. Telekinesis (making one of the baseline doctors flip when I borrowed his pen) and holographic projections (redoing scenes from Sliders, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and a dozen other geeky shows). I also had to take Mox pills twice during the day, to try and help me from breaking things. Like the doctors.

The next day, I got clothes back (not my own, but beggars and so on). I also got to leave the little room and go out into the 'common' area for the newly erupted. Now, eruptions aren't all that frequent, so I figured that I'd be by myself, maybe one other person. Instead, there was a whole group of us. The room itself looked like a bad sci-fi idea of the Cafeteria of the Future. One whole wall was basically nothing but a giant vending machine with all kinds of things in sealed packages. So the others were eating, or trying to pick things out when I emerged from my room.

There was one guy, who looked like he'd be more at home in leather and chains. He was in the middle of eating two sandwiches, switching off between bites. There was a native American looking guy off in one corner, staring intently at what looked like a can of soda or juice. Then a third guy sitting at another table, skinny like me, drawing something using various condiment packages. One woman, staring at the vending machine wall, whose stance just screamed police officer.

Then last was the woman wearing a sort of Xena-looking outfit, except covering more skin, and the face of a Greek goddess. I looked around the room, figured she was standing in front of a section with shrink wrapped fruit (I mean really, who comes up with this crap?), so I walked over, and pulled out an orange. "Hi," I said, "I'm Michal. Do you work here, or are you a newly-erupted nova too?" Yes, I know, it sounded lame. It sounded lame before I said it, but when you're still under the effects of Mox, you're not at your finest.

She just gave me a raised eyebrow in response, and a nod of the head. "I'm Clio Darby," and her British accent was thick and gorgeous. With some effort, I stopped myself from making a complete fool by drooling and staring at her leather-covered cleavage. "Do you know anyone here?"

I glanced around the room. "Well, I know Silverlight by reputation, but if you mean our fellow eruptees, no, I don't." I was going to say more, but another door (normal looking, not armored) opened, and in strode a man I had the misfortune to know well.

You see, normally, UC Berkeley hooks you up with a guidance counselor who is actually in your major. I (and several other students) managed to luck out, and the week before the fall semester started, our guidance counselor was arrested on drug trafficking charges for growing marijuana in his garage and selling it to students. So, with bare days before the start of classes, we all got reassigned to different guidance counselors.

I got assigned to Professor Richard Johnson, better known as "Doctor Dick." The guy's a genius, almost nova level - he's got PhD's in psychiatric medicine, sociology, psychology, and he was working on getting one in nova physiology at the time. He was also (in)famous around campus for his womanizing. The guy was in his sixties, and he not only was still able to convince college girls to sleep with them, but dozens of them every year. He wasn't a bad guy, really, but when I first got to UC Berkeley, I was a shy geek from the Bible Belt who not only was still a virgin, but had never dated before.

So, as everyone else looked over at the opening door, I sighed just loudly enough for him to hear me. "Hi, Doc. Please tell me you're not just here to check up on me."

He smiled that great, big, jovial smile. "Not at all, Mic! I am here officially as a liason from the California state government to speak to you all about the new employment opportunities you have as novas."

Gang-boy spoke up then. "The government? What the hell do they want with us? Shouldn't it be DeVries or the folks like that coming around here to ask us questions?"

Doc just smiled, and moved over to sit at one of the tables. "Well, Daniel, they probably will contact you as soon as you are released from this Rashoud facility tomorrow. However, I'd like all of you to at least hear me out tomorrow. Working for the government has a number of benefits." He glanced around at everyone, who except for the artist had moved close enough to listen. "I understand that you tend to be a little bit suspicious of the government, Daniel, but just listen to me."

"So what does California want to hire us for, anyway?" That was cop-woman, who was leaning over the table in a Hollywood 'Bad Cop' pose. "I'm not saying I'm not interested, but I like being a beat cop."

"For starters, Claire, you'd be working at hunting down drug trafficking." Her fingers tightened on the edge of the table, and the aluminum creaked and bent. "They are hoping that with the diverse mix of talents you have all demonstrated so far, it will make you more effective than the pairs or single nova agents have been. It pays well, though not as good as being an Elite," he said with a significant look at Daniel. "Now then, since all of you are still under the effects of Mox, we can talk tomorrow when you are released. If you decide not to participate, the state has agreed to arrange for transportation back to your homes."

The Doc made sure to look at everyone in return, then with another smile, wave, and a wink at Claire, he headed out of the room. I glanced over at Clio. "Going to take the job?" I asked her. "I mean, I'm just a college student, I might do it."

She frowned, still staring at the door. "Perhaps," she said quietly.

- Michal Wesson, 2 Jan 2019.

[BlueNinja]

We all spent an hour or so sitting around in the common room, talking a litte bit about ourselves and making sure that we all knew each other's names. I'll give you a little rundown on what they all told me that day, before we did one last round of 'power tests' for the doctors.

Daniel was Daniel Day, son of two anti-government militia types, the kind that hole themselves up in bunkers in Idaho and wait for the ATF to come burn them out. He had been working as a security guard in LA when some punk shot him to steal a car. The punk got the car - upside the head, apparently. He had visions of working for DeVries, becoming the next Totentanz. He said he had all the usual combat stuff, the strength and toughness.

Claire was Claire Reed, a cop from some little town north of Sacramento. Her dad was a retired cop who ran a shooting range. Her mom died from a drug overdose, which meant that Claire was really gung-ho about the idea of taking down drug runners. She wanted to hear more about this offer, but she was the most enthusiastic about it. She didn't seem to have any powers, just the sort of enhanced reflexes and toughness that most novas have.

The indian was named Rieller Many-Fires, and he was apparently homeless, but from some reservation north of Fresno (which, at the time, I didn't know where that was). He'd been squatting in an abandoned building somewhere in Oakland, and erupted in a fight with another squatter. He had a little bit of super strength, and he could fly and glow in the dark. Mind you, I thought the last one was useless until quite a bit later.

The artist was Todd Lyle, an artist from somewhere in the San Diego area. He'd been at an art showing, with three of his paintings on display, and had been getting more and more stressed over his chances of selling something. He apparently flipped out and erupted in the middle of the showing, with telepathy and an energy field. You know, shields up.

Last but not least, of course, there was the lovely Clio Darby. She was working in the UCLA library, and teleported from somewhere in the stacks, straight to the front desk. Aside from the teleportation and enhanced reflexes and speed, she didn't have nova powers. What she did have was a father who was in the British House of Lords.

So there I had it, the people who were going to end up being my living companions for the next week. Half of us would remain together for years, two of us would die, and one would vanish into the life of a hermit.

- Michal Wesson, 3 Jan 2019.

[BlueNinja]

The next morning, dressed in normal clothing and without the limiting effects of Mox, we all were led outside. The Rashoud facility is actually outside of San Jose, a little ways to the south towards Gilroy, in a fairly nice hilly area, so the whole building is surrounded by gardens and fields. We were heading towards a gazebo, with the Doc standing in front of it, and the opening was just too good to resist.

I pulled on my holographic powers, and made the gazebo come to life. It opened 'eyes,' had 'teeth' spring into being around one archway, and then start leaning forward towards the Doc. Daniel gave a shout, and started running towards it, energy fields bursting forth around his fists. Silverlight just looked at it, looked at me, and shook his head.

I figured it wouldn't be great if he destroyed the structure, so I had the gazebo turn around and start hopping away, wailing in fear. That confused the heck out of him, but not as much as running right into where one of the pillars for the real gazebo was. Dumbass. "I think that's enough playing around, Michal," the Doc said, and I dropped the holograms with a grin. Daniel glared at me, the energy fields vanishing, and we all sat down at one of the tables.

"Now then, let me fully admit to my ulterior motive for trying to talk you all into this plan with the state government. Unless you've all discussed your eruptions in detail, you won't know this, but all of you erupted within an hour of each other, in a fairly narrow area along the coastline that spans only a few hundred miles. From what I understand, similar batches of eruptions happened during the same time frame in other areas of the world, making what Utopia thinks might be the largest single wave of eruptions since Galatea.

"Being that I am going for another doctorate in nova physiology, I am hoping that if I can observe you, and your powers in use, that I can help determine what caused such a wave of eruptions, hopefully being able to repeat it. Perhaps one day we'll be able to learn how to control eruptions, so that people could actually pick which talents they end up with."

Todd interrupted, muttering almost too quietly to hear, "Amen to that."

The Doc cleared his throat, and looked over at the road leading from the freeway. "Anyway, I have a driver coming, who will be taking you all to a large estate outside of Fresno. It belongs to my family, so please be careful with the property. Tomorrow, two police officers will be coming by with a list of suspected drug safehouses and meth labs, so that you can all formulate a plan and whatnot."

Daniel asked a couple of rather simple questions, which I mostly tuned out because I was busy thinking. Taking down drug houses wasn't something I'd ever thought about how to do. Hell, I was going to college to become a bigger geek than I already was, not because I had some vision of becoming a cop and saving people. But the idea did have some appeal. Most of it was sitting about two feet away, dressed in leather, with a thoughtful frown on her face.

- Michal Wesson, 5 Jan 2019.

[BlueNinja]

The house was a big thing out on the north side of Fresno, sitting pretty on a half acre, practically a mansion with seven bedrooms and all the stuff that goes with a house that large. We spent the day arguing over rooms, unpacking what meager belongings we had gotten sent to us, and mostly planning. Well, I call it planning, but mostly it consisted of Claire and Daniel arguing, with me sitting on the side and offering snide comments.

The next morning, I got up at my usual time of six am. To my surprise, Rieller was already downstairs in the living room, doing some kind of stretching exercise. He gave a silent nod of the head, which I returned, and then set about making breakfast, when one thing became suddenly clear to me.

We were going to need more food.

See, most people don't realize just how much a novas appetite increase. They see us take in larger portions, sure, but my normal breakfast was a small bowl of cereal, or a piece of fruit. I was halfway through my fourth bowl before it hit me that in under two days, we would have emptied every edible thing in the fridge, including the condiments. So after finishing that bowl (and telling my stomach to quit complaining), I headed downstairs.

The garage on the house was partly sunken, and took up half the 'basement' level. I figured it was a good idea to see if there were vehicles, which there were. The little electric barely-fit-two-people cars, the 'alternative' to a hypercombustion engine, took up both spaces in the first garage (the second have been replaced by storage space, from what I could tell). With a few mental reservations, I found the keys, and took one for a drive into town.

It only took me an hour to find a grocery store, and then load up a cart to the brim with food. The cashier gave me some odd looks - an almost skeletal college student buying enough food to feed a frat house for a week, before eight am on a Saturday, but she didn't give me any hassles. And I made sure to keep the receipt so that I could make the government pay for it. Another wonderful example of your tax dollars at work.

I got back to the house much faster, to find Rieller and Daniel cooking about two dozen packets of Ramen in a crock pot, throwing in stuff like hot dogs, chili peppers, frozen peas - the full list would probably nauseate you. The women helped me unload the groceries, and we had just finished when the police arrived.

To gloss over the long and boring parts (because honestly, that's what it was) they sat us down in the living room, and spent the next five hours covering three different meth labs they had under surveillance. Lists of the people they'd seen coming and going, and their criminal histories and known associates. The hazards of going into a meth lab, which include causing the place to blow up. What they were likely to be armed with. Then the cops left us a bunch of folders, and the real fun began.

Claire and Daniel talked, shouted, railed against, and at one point traded punches with each other over it. I managed to keep Daniel from destroying a wall with his head, but I didn't manage to prevent Claire from going through the glass door to the back porch. She wasn't hurt, but most of you probably have no idea how expensive it is to get someone to replace a glass door at two am.

Eventually, thanks to some input from Rieller, Clio, and myself, we picked a target. There was one meth lab set up in a mobile home on the east side of the city, almost in the hills. We'd stake the place out, trading off shifts to try and watch the place. Todd would try to scan their minds, I'd try hacking into their phone and computers.

We were all set. Nothing left but to await contact with the enemy and watch our plan go to hell, which it did four days later.

- Michal Wesson, 6 Jan 2019.

[BlueNinja]

The next four days seemed rather boring. Claire and Daniel (who had surprisingly good skills for surviving in the outdoors) helped us find a way in to watch them where we wouldn't be seen. Clio could teleport, of course, but she couldn't carry another person with her. We traded off in twelve hour shifts, three of us at a time. Todd kept a careful eye on the thoughts and moods, and I tracked everything they did on the phone or computer. I forwarded a list of drop sites to the police this way, which probably helped.

I was on shift with Daniel and Clio when everything went wrong. The others were supposed to come replace us in about half an hour, and Daniel was watching the house through a set of binoculars. Then he swore, and got out of the car. Clio glanced into the back seat (where I had my laptop set up), asking me, "What's going on?"

I glanced at the screen, then back at her. "Hell if I know. We'd better keep an eye on him." We both got out of the car, in time to see Daniel brace himself, then leap down the hill towards the trailer. We both swore, and she teleported after him, while I had to take the more mundane route of clambering down the hill. I got to see one of the guys come outside, put something over his shoulder, and aim it at Daniel just as he landed.

Seeing this made me realize why Daniel was going after them. The bastards had gotten ahold of some shoulder mounted rockets. And Daniel was about to take one of them to the face. I saw Clio teleport in behind the guy, and punch him in the back of the head with enough force to dent a car door, so his rocket instead fired wide.

It hit the side of the trailer.

Remember how earlier I mentioned that meth labs blow up? Yeah. Clio had an energy shield, so she was shaken but not hurt. Daniel's clothes all got burned off, but he didn't seem to be injured, just pissed off. Then he jumped away again, vanishing over the next hill.

I reached the bottom about the time Claire, Rieller, and Todd showed up. The cops weren't far behind them, because massive fireballs tend to attract attention, even when they happen in rural areas.

We all spent the evening in a police station, answering questions for the police about what went wrong, what we had learned, and of course getting bitched at about how little they'd be able to salvage from the operation.

Eventually, they let us go. Feeling a little bummed, and still wondering where the hell Daniel had gone (being naked and all), we returned to the house. I sent the Doc an e-mail about it, and went to bed. There wasn't much else for me to do that day.

- Michal Wesson, 8 Jan 2019.

[BlueNinja]

The whole screwup happened on Monday, first one in Jun 2008. Figures, right?

Tuesday, we spent the whole day under a virtual house arrest. The Chief of Police for Fresno, plus the county Sheriff, and two guys from the DEA, spent the whole day going over it in minute detail, searching through all of their computer records I'd downloaded (without a warrant, so they weren't admissable) almost character by character.

Wednesday morning, the Doc showed up again, with another guy who introduced himself as "Agent Day, FBI." This turned out to be Nathan - Daniel's older brother.

The Doc explained it all to us as we ate (and ate and ate) breakfast. "So far, this project is not off to a very auspicious start. I don't blame any of you - Daniel has apparently been fired from a job for being too impetuous - but it still casts things in a bad light.

"But there is some good news; someone matching Daniel's description was seen stealing clothes outside of Modesto, and as far as we can tell he's still in the area. Nathan would like to accompany you and try to find him, talk to him. The police are annoyed that they don't have any evidence, but since they were arming themselves with rocket launchers, they'd rather have him back here working with you than running off in fear of the law."

We talked it over for a few minutes. Claire was of the 'good riddance' opinion, but Clio and I were willing to give Nathan a few days of our time. After all, if those methheads had fired a rocket at one of our cars, some of us could have died. Namely me.

So that day, we got maps and tried to work out a strategy to let us search the city to try and find Daniel if he was still in the area. Nathan had some good ideas, but he had absolutely no sense of humor. Worse, about every third line out of his mouth was a pathetic attempt to hit on the two women. Claire, I think, thought it was amusing, but Clio was getting annoyed at him. Todd, of course, mostly ignored us outside of us giving him orders, and sat in the corner sketching.

Things continued to go downhill when we got to Modesto.

- Michal Wesson, 8 Jan 2019.

[BlueNinja]

We were almost to Modesto when a car in front of us suddenly turned off the road. Suddenly as in "Oh shit I just realized the cops are behind me" type of suddenly. Nathan was at the wheel, and without hesitation, he followed them. Nearly rolled the car, too. That's when Todd (who was in the other car with Claire and Rieller) contacted me telepathically.

For those of you who've never experienced a telepath talking to you, it's weird. For a brief moment, it's as though time has stopped completely, except for your conversation. Words, images, concepts, all flow pretty freely. Now, I know some novas have a more limited telepathy, and I'll get to that later, but Todd was the full deal. At one point, he was talking to all of us at once - but again, I'll get to that later.

I didn't get words, so much as the sudden knowledge that it was Daniel driving the car in front of us - oh, and he knew it was us following him, too. I said as much out loud, and Nathan gave me one of those "No shit" looks through the rear-view mirror. I just shrugged and tried to prepare myself for the upcoming confrontation.

We blew past a ranger booth to charge people going into a campsite, and the road, already in bad shape, deteriorated to gravel with decent-size potholes. Our only real advantage was that as long as Daniel stuck to the car, he wasn't going to get out past us.

Sure enough, he lost control and smashed his car into a tree near the outhouse building at the campsite, sending panicked campers fleeing as he ripped his way out of the car. Our two vehicles pulled up rather quickly behind him, all of us getting out. "Daniel, wait!" Nathan was running towards him, even as Daniel ripped off the car door and held it up as a shield. "Damnit, we're just here to talk!"

"Oh yeah, you're just another fucking cop, here to tell me what a screw-up I am when people pick fights with me!" He kept the door up with one hand, ripping a rock the size of my torso out of the ground with his other one and hefting it. "I'm not some Dudley Do-Right the goddamn government can order around!"

He threw the rock, and I strained my telekinesis, making it smash into the ground about a foot in front of Nathan. Daniel growled, making a short hop backwards twenty feet or so, pulling up another one right next to the bathroom building. "Stay out of this, Michal!" And he threw that one, even as Nathan was starting to run forward after his brother. This one, I didn't stop.

Of course, I didn't stop it because a lightning bolt smashed it out of the air, so I felt a little ripped off.

- Michal Wesson, 10 Jan 2019.

[BlueNinja]

For those of you who have had the misfortune to be at ground zero of another nova's eruption, I know you feel my pain. For those of you who haven't, let me say that I'd rather face down a Michaelite hit squad. This, of course, was the first time I had to be that close to an erupting nova, though it took me a few seconds to realize it.

Lightning striking out of a clear sky is unusual, but par for the course when novas are around. Lightning striking a moving object out of a clear sky means there's one hell of a nova around. When the fourth lightning bolt struck, in as many seconds, that's when I figured out that Nathan must have just erupted, since all four of them were in a straight line. Unfortunately, my teammates were not all quite as bright. "What's going on?" shouted Rieller at me, over the thunderclaps from each strike.

I almost answered, before Daniel ripped off part of the bathroom building, and hurled it at Nathan. It shredded to pieces before it reached him, then turned around and flew back. The temperature dropped suddenly, fast and sudden enough to form frost on the grass in the middle of the clearing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Claire edging her way around the clearing, gun drawn, probably trying to decide which one of them the gun would be effective on. I had a better idea, but it was definately risky as hell.

The day after we'd left, I talked to the Doc, and he managed to get me a Mox dispenser. Basically it's a syringe of hardened plastic, with a little dial, that you just jam into someone and it automatically inflicts a number of doses. I pulled one of them out, and started walking towards Nathan quietly. Living with my dad had taught me how to sneak past people, but not quite how to sneak up on them.

As I walked, Daniel gathered himself, and went to do another of those mile-spanning jumps, but ten feet off the ground something happened, and he went slamming down through the roof of the bathroom building. I didn't stop moving just because I was watching it, though, so by the time Daniel came back out through the hole he'd already ripped in the wall, I was standing behind Nathan. "Damnit, Nathan, just leave me alone!"

Nathan started to say something, and I jabbed the needle in his neck, set to discharge the full ten ccs. It got about seven in before he managed to twist away from me. "Michal, what are you." Before he could finish the sentance, he slumped to the ground, passed out from the Mox. I heard more than saw Daniel bound away again, since I was more concerned in not having Nathan fall on me.

Between Clio and Rieller, we managed to get Nathan stuffed in the backseat of one of the cars, and I called off the search for Daniel. If he wanted to go get killed in Africa trying to make a name for himself, let him.

- Michal Wesson, 13 Jan 2019.