《Capes and Cloaks: A Villain's Tale》Patchwork World 3.1
Advertisement
January 8th, 2049.
A large, glowing object passed through the solar system at velocities exceeding the speed of light.
Nature: Unknown. Origin: Unknown. Destination: Unknown.
The object emitted radiation of an unknown type, and everywhere its light fell, it wreaked unmatched devastation, almost casually wiping out all of South Africa and Central Asia.
Over two billion dead in the blink of an eye.
Nearly as many died in the following year, from earthquakes and tsunamis, from food and energy shortages, from local conflicts in collapsed governments. The world stood on a brink, searching for someone, anyone to blame.
Then, a video.
A short clip, less than a minute long, taken with a shaky phone camera. A clip of a man wielding strange and unnatural powers to wrestle down a tornado.
The world found its scapegoat.
It would take years of fact gathering and blatant speculation to fully build a picture of what happened. Societies of the wise, of those seeking out words and symbols of power, existed for a long time. They existed in the British Empire, they existed in Rome and Egypt and every epoch before that. The knowledge of what was colloquially known as magic, whether it be seidr or orenda or witchcraft, was carefully gathered and hoarded, ever-expanding and ever-hidden from the uninitiated, for it was a power as dangerous as it was coveted. Though the masquerade was strained at times – few could watch the suffering of their friends and family, knowing they could alleviate it with the wave of a hand – the breaches were swiftly covered up, and the secret remained secret for many a century.
The age of global communication blew it wide open in under an hour.
The response was everything the wise feared and more. Ancient sites of power torn down, knowledge lost, countless students of magic perishing in modern-day witch hunts. The survivors were covertly recruited, at gunpoint, if necessary, by the world's governments, rushing to get their hands on a shiny new weapon in a universe that was suddenly revealed to be so vast and uncertain.
The years 2050-2052, with their worldwide hysteria, numerous local conflicts and an escalating arms race, would later be written into history books as the first of the Extraordinary Wars.
***
Despite having nothing planned for the day, I still woke up at 5:30.
I turned around and attempted to go back to sleep. It promptly took evasive action. I pursued it doggedly, but after fifteen minutes of twisting and turning was forced to admit that my lazy Sunday morning was not meant to be.
So I moved to plan B.
Snuggling under the covers, I settled into a comfortable position and closed my eyes.
{“Then get to it! I'm not leaving until I'm sure every security breach is taken care of!” “Eggs and bacon, no salt,” “Honey, I was at work, honest,” “Shit! You triggered the alarm!”}
Sifting through my connections did not take long, if only because most people were still – or already – sleeping, so I switched to the next part of my mourning routine.
Advertisement
Memories degraded. Seventy percent of new information was forgotten within twenty-four hours and ninety percent within a week. That was something of a problem, since memories formed the foundation of my power. I could enforce foreign perceptions through my connections, but those perceptions were based upon the ones I experienced myself. Though I could fudge some things and my target's mind filled in the details, the core effect relied on the sights, the sounds and smells and tastes and feelings that came from my own memory. To keep my arrows sharp and quiver full, I recounted recent events each morning and every night, focusing on new and useful sensory information.
The crush of the falling ceiling, the dust and the rumble; hazy figures, only visible from the corner of the eye; the disorienting feeling of the floor wobbling beneath your feet; a shrieking sound, so loud and piercing it left you rolling on the ground screaming.
That last one went into my special folder. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger – literally so, in my case.
The pop of a silenced gun, smoke getting into your throat and clouding your vision, the whistling of arrows and the crack of a bullet hitting the wall centimeters away...
The next time I opened my eyes, the clock showed 8 am.
***
“I'll need a car of my own.”
The words were confident, self-assured and said like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.
I raised my head from the cereal to look at the eleven-year-old girl sitting across the table.
“My birthday's coming up next month,” she explained. “I thought you'd want to know.”
She was serious.
“Casey, no,” I sighed.
“Casey, yes,” she countered. “You're always gone, and I need a way to reach my friends. I'm certainly not spending all day here,” she waved her hand at the dusty kitchen.
We lived in a fairly small two-story house, taller than it was wide and colored a brilliant undulating crimson to match the rest of the street.
Though Steele's Regime made noticeable strides when it came to rebuilding, the focus was on big, global things like energy and housing and infrastructure. On survival, not living. Little things fell through the cracks, things like paper books and rocking chairs and children's toys. Everything was a functional and utilitarian grey, no thought spared toward creativity or individuality. As the discontent slowly gained momentum, people started using vibrant dyes and vivid hues as a subtle form of defiance, rebellion against the forces attempting to crush them into a single uniform mass. When the old government was finally overthrown, colors exploded all across the city, in walls of buildings, in walkways and tree carvings, as men and women looked toward a brighter future.
We followed the trend in that if only to avoid scrutiny. The rest of our residence was much more subdued. The hallway and the living room were decorated, just in case we had unavoidable guests, but the rest of the rooms were left free of personal touches and affectations. Walls remained unadorned, shelves empty, furniture at a bare minimum. Everything important or meaningful was stored in small satchels, easy to grab and run. Claude once called our place a hollow abode.
Advertisement
It was a house, but very much not a home.
“That's reasonable,” I agreed, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt. “But an eleven-year-old behind a wheel might attract a little attention.”
“It's not the first time I'll be driving a car,” Casey pulled on one of her reddish-brown pigtails, huffing in annoyance when the yellow butterfly hair tie rolled up. “You should know.”
“That was in case we needed to move out quickly and I was absent or incapacitated,” I argued. “What will you do if someone stops you?”
“I'm not actually doing anything illegal,” she pointed out.
I winced.
There were enough Patchmen in the city that it was not particularly surprising to see horse-drawn carriages move side by side with twenty-first-century cars. Between that and a general shortage of working automobiles, legislation regarding road safety was never really seen as high priority. Nothing prevented an enterprising preteen girl from owning and operating her own set of wheels.
Well, then. I'll just have to be blunt.
“We can't afford to buy a new car,” I told Casey. “Not with our current finances.”
“You're literally a millionaire!” she burst out.
I waited a little for her to calm down and shook my head.
“That's for business expenses only. A new car would attract attention, it would invite envy, suspicion, maybe even result in an investigation. Frivolous spending above the reported income is how villains get caught.”
She squinted at me.
“So we can buy toys for you, but not for me. Sure. Totally fair.”
I suppressed a sigh. Casey was the kind of morning person who took advantage of people who were not. I was torn between being annoyed and being proud.
“Why do you even need a car?” I switched to bargaining. “You could just use a bus, the way most people do.”
“Because it's cool, duh,” she rolled her eyes like it was self-obvious.
“Of course,” I deadpanned. “How could I forget the coolness factor?”
Casey narrowed her eyes.
“Don't parront... patronize me,” despite stumbling over the word, she continued unabated. “You constantly throw out money and make grand gestures to establish your reputation, Carnival. This is me, building my street cred.”
“Peter A. Rade,” I reminded her automatically. “Not Carnival. Not in civvies.”
“It's easier than remembering whatever your current alias is,” she brushed me off. “Don't change the subject.”
I raised my arms in surrender, almost upending the bowl of cereal.
“I'm not. You're right. That's important, and I want to support your aspirations,” I paused.
We lived in the newer, outer parts of the city because they had neither the time to develop a sense of community nor the heavy hand of all-pervading bureaucracy. It was the kind of place that allowed for a little leeway.
“We can't afford the attention buying a new car would get us,” I said slowly, thinking it through. “But, maybe, you can borrow my car when you need one? Pretend it's your own?”
Absorbed as I was in my thoughts, it took me a few moments to register Casey's smug grin.
Oh.
That's what she was after from the very start, wasn't it? Aim for the stars; that way your opponents will breathe out in relief when you settle for conquering a single small planet. I'd just been outmaneuvered by a girl who's yet to enter her teens.
I decided to take that as confirmation of my stellar parenting skills.
***
With her goal achieved, the rest of the morning passed in relative peace. I sat back, finishing the cereal and lazily flipping through my mail. Casey cheerfully chattered enough for both of us. It was almost idyllic.
“I'm dropping by New Venice today,” I mentioned off-handedly. “Want me to pick something up for you?”
Casey hummed.
“Well, there's a cute new skirt I saw...” she shot me a judgemental look. “But I don't trust your fashion sense.”
“Hey,” I responded half-heartedly.
“Just pick up some Italian pastries,” Casey nodded. “I'll go shopping later with Olivia and her parents.”
“I'm meeting with Sceptic at noon, but Roman sent a liskmail to cancel on today's barbeque plans,” I told her. “We can spend the evening at home, maybe watch something together?”
“I'm having a sleepover at Emily's,” Casey shook her head, putting the plates away. “We don't see each other as often after I moved away.”
I felt that momentary twinge of guilt again.
“Do you... want to enroll in school?” I put forth carefully. “To spend more time around people your age?”
Casey rolled her eyes at me.
“Ungh, no,” she wrinkled her nose. “I know the school curriculum until college level, at least, and sitting around for hours listening to people drone on is not my idea of a fun time. Stop trying to be parental, Carnival.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. I had no idea what I was going to do if she ever said yes. Between countless false identities, the need to move every couple of months and attention from a bunch of munchkins who were much more observant than most grown-ups gave them credit for, the school was a major risk to my civilian identity. The last thing I wanted was to come home after a long day and find a couple of heroes on my porch.
“You're happy, then?” I asked conscientiously. “Or, at least, content?”
Casey rolled her eyes again.
“You're overthinking things. If I want something, I'll tell you,” she tilted her head. “Or trick you into giving it to me.”
I let out an amused huff.
Selfish and manipulative, independent and outgoing.
Some days even I could believe that she was my daughter.
Advertisement
Immovable Mage
What do you call a mage incapable of casting spells? In this story, we usually call him Terry. When the boy is accepted into Arcana Academy, his talent in the pillars of mana foundation awes everyone. All the bigger is the eventual disappointment when Terry turns out to be an utter failure at spellwork. Diagnosis? Major aspect impairment. No cure. Ever. Faced with expulsion, Terry is blessed with the unexpected kindness of others. Terry loses his spot in the Academy but in exchange, he finds a home with a family. Terry starts to train as a pure mana cultivator but never stops looking for his own path as a mage – day after day, season after season, always searching for compatible spellwork… Until finally, Terry’s perseverance earns him a single spell – the only spell he will ever be able to cast. Disclaimers: Chapter Frequency: I aim for one chapter a week. Chapter Length: I try to keep chapters between 3000 and 6000 words. Binge Preference: I plan for 30 chapters per arc. If you want to binge a complete arc, then that is the number to wait for. I will also add a line to chapters indicating the beginning and end of an arc. Advanced Access: I have created a patreon page with early access to four chapters for patrons. What to Expect: Progression fantasy with a western fantasy setting and with eastern fantasy elements. A main character that is forced to explore a very narrow path of magic due to a permanent condition. A main character that is a part of a larger cast. A main character that is growing but won't become the strongest around anytime soon. A story following a single main character but with introduction or theme setting scenes without the main character. What Not to Expect: Edgy grimdark characters – I will never write a sexual violence scene or gory descriptions of torture. I hate reading it and I would hate writing it even more. Romance – romantic relationships will never be the focus of the story and only appear in the background. The main character is preoccupied with other stuff. Other forms of relationships (family, friends, companions) play a bigger role. Cover: The cover art was commisioned from redditor Linh-Nguyen87. The font is alita brush by Inovatype Typefoundry. Overview: 001–030 Arc 1, Cultivating Perseverance: complete. 031–060 Arc 2, Undying Defiance: complete. 061–090 Arc 3, Unyielding Fury: scheduled for publishing. 091–120 Arc 4, Savage Hope: scheduled for publishing. 121–150 Arc 5, Self-Made Fate: first draft in progress. 151–180 Arc 6, Heretic Style: sketching in progress. Further Arcs are still in the sketching and idea collection phase.
8 200Investigation of the Occult School Club - Case "Kids of the Station"
Macabre stories, legends passed down for generations, the newest supernatural discovery by unsuspecting students… All of this and more is within the club's scope. This investigation is about a certain legend, of a certain city, about a certain station… Will our investigators bring results home, or…?
8 84The Knower
Since the beginning of time, the King has always gifted his children with a title at the age of 15. The title would impart knowledge and give them gifts to find their way in life. A Farmer would learn more profound mysteries of the soil, and a knight would learn how to protect. It wasn't as if each title was a surprise, but some would get unique titles and become great names in the annals of history. Oli, A young elf, doesn't get his title at the age of 15 but receives news that he is being prepared for great things. The King intends to mold him into his agent on Gaia, a man who knows all things. An agent who will fight the Grot of the soul that comes with disgracing the creations of the King. With Inspiration from great works such as The Name of the Wind, By Patrick Rothfuss, or The Riftwar Saga, By Raymond E. Feist, Oli is called into the schemes of the world. Groups on Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPG.books/
8 155The Reaper: Consumer of Souls
In a world where the strong rule, and the weak try to become strong. A 12 year old boy learns about the power that he holds. He tries to learn how yo use his power and become stronger to survive. However, life isn't always all pretty and peaceful, there is always danger. Follow the young boy as he struggles to survive with his companions and become strong enough to protect himself and the ones he loves.
8 138phoebe | jjk
in which he remembers.
8 176Youth || Klaus Mikaelson
"Youth" -DaughterAshley Sommers, the daughter to Jenna Sommers and fathers remains unknown. A 15 year old girl who has to deal with vampires and unknown supernatural creatures that are to come.Besides of the loss of her Aunt and Uncle, her life was great. Had a great support system, great cousins, friends, family, even if they are vampires.That happy feeling goes to waste when she finds out the truth of her and her cousin Elena's bloodline.S2-S4ish
8 195