Things to Run Away From Really Fast

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Oh look. I'm bleeding.

I'm shopping, getting ready to disappear if the government catches onto our plan.

I'm at what's supposed to be our house, shared with the people I'm conspiring with. I'm outside on the front steps, cutting up blocks of styrofoam cement with a chainsaw. A woman comes out to talk to me. She looks like Michelle Rodriguez. We talk about something, she warns me about the Agents that might have followed her here. Then she explains that the box of nails next to the steps are actually explosive rounds that she uses in her gun.



The Agent shows up. I play dumb, but eventually confess that the weapon he's looking for is that box, beside the steps. He goes to look, and when he looks up, I'm holding an air nailer pointed straight at his head. He rushes me, knocks me off balance, and I fire six nails. I think one might hit him, but the other five go straight into my left forearm.

I'm sitting on the ground, still holding the cordless nailer. I stare dumbly at my forearm. The nails have been impaled along the center, an inch apart from each other. Blood, everywhere.

The agent is running off and I'm babbling about how I thought there weren't any nails in the gun. Michelle shows up and helps me inside. I'm staring at my arm, fascinated, and picking at the nails, pulling them out one at a time.

Michelle slaps my hand away and pours a mix of soapy water over my arm. I hiss, but more in reflex than actual pain. She says she'll take them out; I'll do too much damage if I do it myself.

"There's only one left," I say, holding up my arm.

She looks a little sick.

Air Nailers. Scare Factor: 4.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

I seem to have a thing for slamming people into walls. I blame Supernatural.

My partner and I were subtly infiltrating a top-secret military prison. Unfortunately, it didn't go well, and I'm currently on my own, trying to stage a massive escape.

You know you should watch out when getting in is way too easy.

I'm rushing back to the entrance, a mob of angry prisoners behind me (though I'm more worried about the guards). I come across a control panel, key in random numbers and watch the door slide open, Star Wars-style. I'm through the door, looking at a massive warehouse. The only way out is straight through the exterior wall, a solid mass of cement blocks and brick.

"Blast!" I command, letting kinetic energy tear its way from my hands. I barely even recognize that I'm saying the word. The far wall falls apart into a pile of rubble and dust, leaving only -

Another wall is behind it. Pure cement.

"Blast! Blast! Blast!" The walls keep falling down, replaced by more walls behind them. No way I'm getting out through here.

"I was hoping you'd come this way," says a menacing voice.

A giant steps out from behind the tall stacks of crates in the room. He looks like Hyde from the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen movie. He's several times taller than me, and can move freely in the gigantic warehouse.

Huh. This is kind of like that rancor level in Jedi Academy, I think to myself. I visualize the layout of the game - lots of jumping and running away, that won't work. I have to dodge as Hyde throws a few crates at me.

Now, how do I take him out? Fighting won't work, I'm too small.

Stop. You're fighting a giant during a mass breakout from an underground prison. Wake up, you moron.

I don't mean that literally.

I'm lucid. I barely have to think about it as I grow several meters taller, causing the room to seem average rather than cavernous.

Hyde is charging me. I stop his attack easily, spin him, send him flying into a wall. Chunks of mortar fall down around him.

Not a second later I'm on him, pinning him down and delivering a punch to the jaw.

Hyde has something of an inappropriate reaction to this.

Mr. Hyde. Scare Factor: 3.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

A note to our teenage adventure protagonist: we're totally messing with you.

Our surroundings are bright, a world of clear glass windows surrounded by sunlight. My footfalls are light and airy, bearing none of the gravity that this situation should require. I am calm, cool, and collected as I approach the dark-haired man at the top of the dias.

"You should know, Amon," I say, "That you can't possibly win."

Amon surveys the horizon, his back turned to me. "We don't have to do this," he says quietly. "You could give up the girl..."

"That's not going to happen."

Amon turns to face me, dark energy forming in a globe between his hands. He's still young. I barely have time to process the thought. I'm dodging. Blackness swallows up the staircase I was standing on a moment ago.

I bring my hands together, pull them apart in a quick motion. A lance of energy surges toward Amon, aiming for the heart.

I'm sitting at a four-person booth in a restaurant, nursing a cup of coffee. I hold it up and breathe in the warm scent, before setting it back down with a clink on the table. I glance up at Amon, who's sitting across from me at the table. The corner of his mouth is twitching up into a smile, though he's trying to suppress it.

Beside me is the girl I was talking about before, our protagonist, Sasha. I love playing a supporting character. She's glancing up at Amon and back at the table, trying to look for all the world like she's not about to bolt at the first sign of hostility.

I have to chuckle. "So. Do you think this counts as an anti-climax?"

Amon's about to point out the double-entendre, but Sasha cuts him off.

"What the hell, ---?" she says, twisting to face me directly. "He was trying to kill you!"

"Nah," I say, leaning back in my seat, "Amon and I aren't enemies. Are we, Amon?"

"Nope," he says, barely keeping a straight face.

"Tell him about your problem." I say, my expression far too earnest.

"I can't remember my parents' eye colours, okay? They keep changing!" Sasha springs up from her seat and stomps away to the restroom.

"Who pays attention to their parents' eye colours?" asks Amon.

"Weird people. Or very observant ones?" I wonder. "Anyway, I took a look at her memories, and they have been tampered with."

"And you just got rid of her. Am I thinking what you're thinking?"

I nod, gleefully. "We should investigate."

We slip away from the diner and back into the mall we just destroyed. I press a few random buttons on a keypad and the door opens with a hiss. I walk right in, Amon following close behind. We're in the clothing department, where a couple missing parents should be frozen as mannequins.

"If we have all of the permutations right," I muse, wandering over to a control panel disguised as a jewellery counter, "We should just be able to enter them here."

Amon presses a few places on a blank wall. As he touches them, the spots light up in squares. He finishes the combination and steps back. I hear a low hum permeate the air around us.

"I have a bad feeling about this." I mutter.

Amon shoots me a glare. "I don't like your bad feelings," says Amon. "They make bad things happen."

The mannequins in the display near us, half a dozen at least, start to twitch.

Mind Games. Scare Factor: 2.

In which insane and bloody doctors offer to change my appearance.

I'm picking up floor joists by myself and placing them in a third layer over the existing ones.

"What are you doing?" asks my dad.

I set down the thirty-foot piece of wood and gesture like it should be obvious.

"We already did that," says Dad, "We don't need any more."

I look down, and realize that he's right. Oh.

---

I'm driving around Quickton, driving around all the cars that are parked haphazardly in the middle of the road. Did I mention that DCs aren't allowed to drive anymore?

---



I'm wandering around Ixburg. It's night, and my surroundings feel very real. I look at my hand anyway, count my fingers. I count five, but my pinky finger is just a stub, and I know that I'm dreaming.

I go through my mental list of lucid goals, and decide that I'll try to find Hazel. Only, I know exactly how this phase of the dream usually works out, so I decide to send her a message instead.

I pull out my cell phone and send a text, asking where she is. I immediately get a reply. I put the phone to my ear and hear a female voice telling me that she's at the zoo. I tell her to stay there; I'll try to come find her.

"I'm lucid, I'm lucid." I mutter to myself, going over to the church doors that I'm standing near. I pull them open, thinking, Lions and tigers and bears...

I see a faint blue light, but when I step inside, I'm still in Ixburg. I sigh. Obviously I'm going to have to work on that "power of belief" thing. Whatever, the door thing has never worked for me.

I'm standing by a mirror and idly playing with my appearance, going for "more masculine" and "more feminine", back and forth, changing faces at random. My skin is starting to feel stretched too tight, though, and I step back from the mirror.

A scalpel slices across my cheek, drawing blood. The girl holding it dances back, twirling happily around the room. I watch, unconcerned, as she and another, identical, girl come up to me and place their arms over my shoulders.

I don't remember exactly what they say, but the consensus is that my shapeshifting abilities leave something to be desired. Amused, I allow myself to be led over to the bed and handcuffed to the headboard. The twins step back and make a grand gesture toward the door.

An older woman appears, seemingly armed to the teeth with surgical tools. "I can help you gain any appearance you wish," she says.

"What," I say, taunting, "No anesthesia?"

"It's a dream. You don't need it."

I pause for a second, and seriously consider the offer. "Nah," I say, freeing myself from the handcuffs with a thought. "I got this."

The woman shrugs and disappears.

I stand up and walk over to the closets that are in the room, looking for a grey suit. I don't know why I'm looking for a grey suit, I just feel like wearing one. I try to make one appear in the one of the two closets, but fine-tuned dream control isn't my forte. I'm better at the "mass slaughter" kind of thing.

The twins continue to try to be helpful, but I ignore them.

I go over to the wall and stretch out a hand. I'm trying to dissolve the dream, reach through the Void, and pull up a new location. I see spots where my hands are, and I think it's working. I reach forward - my hand bumps off of a very real, very solid feeling wall. I try again. It's not working.

I wake up.

Like a Surgeon. Scare Factor: 2.

I walk down an empty road, then go climbing.

I'm walking down the highway west of Ixburg. There's a semi-trailer parked at the side of the road. I peer inside, but it's empty. Now that I look around, there are a lot of abandoned vehicles here. The ditches seem to be flooded, as well.

I duck behind the truck as a cop car rolls slowly by, scanning the area for life. Once it's gone, I keep walking.

The road west of Ixburg, in reality, is a mostly flat, straight piece of asphalt leading directly to a bigger highway. In dreams, however, it leads into a treacherous, cliff-like system that's made mostly of mud and would be very bad to drive in during a rainstorm. The Road typically leads to the various parks around Ixburg, the place my Grandma used to live, and Wood Mountain. It's a real place, there just aren't any mountains.

Later, I'll get an image of my mom trying to follow me down The Road in her car. She'll have to call me and ask for directions, and I'll tell her it's more about intent than the road you drive down.

shift

I'm lead climbing on an indoor structure. I haven't hooked myself into the first bolt, and this is a dangerous route to climb. If I fall now, I'll hit the protruding ledge directly below be, probably break something, and go tumbling all the way to the ground.



I look back at my climbing partner, who is... Misha Collins. Hello again. Guess who's turning into a dream sign?

Two men are arguing in the change-rooms. I'm one of them. The other guy is my boyfriend, I think, and he's... um... yelling very loudly that he isn't gay? What?

The Road. Scare Factor: 2.

A wizard violates the laws of nature when he creates human beings from scratch. And then there are zombies.

There's a shabby old farmhouse on the plain, over the crest of the hill. No roads lead to it, because in this time, there are no roads. If there's a hint of civilization in this place, it's what's been carved out of the land by its few inhabitants.



I knock on the door.

The door swings open and a middle-aged man with longish black hair answers it, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile when he realizes who I am.

"Amon." I say, "It's been a while."

He leads me inside, beaming. The inside of the house is bright and warm and filled with people. I notice the eight people in the room, most of whom are cooking and doing various odd jobs around the house. Amon is rushing away to go help with something.

I take an empty seat beside a kid who looks to be in his mid-20s. "I'm Eli," he says, "and the scary-looking guy across from me is Mark."

Mark glares menacingly from across the table.

"So, Eli," I say, "How did you come to be here?"

"Could ask you the same question." Mark interrupts.

Eli continues like he hasn't heard him. "I was a civilian consultant for the military back home. It's a long story, but the same thing that pulled all of us back here somehow pulled me in. So really, I'm from the future," he says happily.

Neat cover story.

"So, when were you from?" asks Eli.

"I need to talk to Amon." I say dismissively, and kick my chair back.

Mark stands up too, his pose threatening. "I don't know who you are," he says, "but you're not one of us. If you try to hurt any of these people, I will kill you."

I turn back to him, considering. "Duly noted."

I catch up to Amon outside. He's leaning against the wood siding of the house, staring up into the sky.

"So," I say, leaning against the wall beside him, "They're self-aware."

Amon pulls away from the wall a bit, turning to face me. "They are." He confirms. His smile becomes wistful. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Your own perfect little creations." I say, frowning. "You know, there's a reason the creation of human life is considered a forbidden art."

"Those laws don't apply here," says Amon. "And of all people, I thought you would understand why those rules are arbitrary."

"I care little for conventional morality, Amon," I say, warning in my tone, "But this is dangerous. As my student -"

"You taught me to choose my own path," says Amon. He gestures at the door. "This is what I've chosen. These are real people, ---." He lowers his voice. "I won't abandon them."

I can't stop a smile from creeping onto my face.

One of his creations comes outside to tell us that dinner is ready. The man is smiling and holding a bowl of potatoes and a wooden spoon. I try to ignore it, but I can't help but notice that his hands are shaking.

---

Over dinner, I keep an eye on the man with the potatoes. His name is Darryl, and he's a carpenter from the 1950s. At least, he thinks he is. In reality, he's a construct whose artificial soul is straining at the bonds keeping it in place. I'm surprised the others have lasted so long.

Eli keeps trying to draw me into the conversation, but I keep one eye on Darryl throughout the meal. He's getting progressively more pale and shaky, I notice, as Eli introduces me to a pretty woman in a dress, called Solara. She's either from an alternate, apocalyptic future or a rich family in the 19th century. I'm not paying much attention.

Because Darryl is stumbling, backing away from the table into the wall, and as he collapses, a wave of energy pulses outward, knocking over every construct at the table.

I calmly set down my fork, then stand up and walk over to Amon. "I hate to say I told you so," I tell him, "but it's time to go."

"No!" says Amon, knocking my hand away. He staggers back to the other end of the room, looking over the scene with horror. "I have to help them."

"Amon." I say, approaching like I would a wounded animal. "There's nothing you can do. We need to leave before you're affected, too."

"Yes." he says, eyes wild. "Yes, yes, I can't help them," He looks straight at me. "But you can. You can fix them."

"No." I say flatly. "This is a bad idea."

He's already started the process before I can protest further, pulling soul energy from a well deep inside him, gathering it up.

I can't stop him.

"Take care of them, ---," he says, struggling to hold together the colourless swirling energy he's holding in his hands. "Please."



The soul energy hits me at the same time I feel Amon vanish from existence, gone as if he'd never been there. The energy is a rush, but I control it effortlessly, and spin around to confront the automatons that are his legacy.

The thing that was Darryl comes charging at me, and I telekinetically smash it into the wall next to me. Its feet are dangling in the air as I examine it. Gari d'amon ex hadris, I chant in nonsense Latin. I let the body fall, boneless and broken to the floor.

Mark is still half-standing, leaning against a chair for support. He's been watching with the glazed look of a man in horrible pain, but he's still somewhat alert.

I approach him in much the same way I did the zombie, cautious. I nudge him back toward the wall with a tendril of energy, but I don't lift him from the ground or slam him into the wall.

"This is going to hurt," I warn him.

Mark nods and lets his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed. So assured, I grip Mark's artificial soul, pulling it into a ball from his chest. I twist my wrist, watching his hands clench into fists, and let trickles of the soul-energy I absorbed from Amon sweep into the artificial soul, strenghthening it.

I don't have time for anything more elaborate. I push Mark's soul back into his body, forcing it to slice through his veins in one swift motion, sticking it there. If he could get any breath into his lungs, he would be screaming.

I leave Mark on the floor, stepping over him to the other bodies. This just might work.

In the end, I only manage to save five of them, Eli and Solara among them. The other two, I simply put down, severing their nervous systems and absorbing the very last of their energies. The once cozy farmhouse feels oppressive, haunted by the wild energy that echoes throughout. We need to leave.
"You have water?" I ask a woman, whose name I don't know. She nods silently, looking back over the farmhouse.

"Well?" says Solara, gathering up her skirts and hiking out into the desert, the opposite way I came from. "Let's get going then."

Amused, I follow after her, followed, in turn, by the rest of the group. Mark stays close behind me, though I doubt it's to watch my back. More likely, he just wants to keep an eye on me.

Eli jogs to catch up, panting as he keeps pace with me. "So, what happened back there, exactly?"

"Amon was a necromancer," I say. "He wanted to create life, so he came here. He created you." I keep my eyes on the horizon. "He couldn't sustain himself along with all of you, so he sacrificed the rest of his soul to keep you alive."

Eli blinks. "Okay, that's completely unbelievable."

I look back at him and say without inflection, "The wormhole that brought you back in time dosed you with massive amounts of radiation that was going to turn you into zombies."

"Thank you," says Eli. "Why didn't you just say that the first time?"

Eli tries to catch up to Solara. I turn back to Mark and shrug. What can you do?

I could swear I almost see Mark crack a smile.

---

The next hill brings us the view of a tall, white-panelled manor not too far off. I wonder what could have made it; we're supposed to be in a universe devoid of all sentient life, after all. The rest of the party is just relieved to see a trace of civilization, so I suppose that it's worth the risk.

We trek up the gravel road (another oddity) to the house that shouldn't be there. Eli and Solara are running inside before Mark and I have a chance to check it out - which Mark isn't happy about. We meet them inside. Solara is twirling in circles over the hardwood floor, a smile on her face as she admires the high ceilings.

I'm trying to examine my surroundings on a deeper level, but something is blocking my senses. This place might seem like heaven to Solara, but something is very wrong.

Mark's dividing us into teams. He wants Eli and Solara to stick together on the main floor, watching for any signs of life (anything to keep those two out of trouble). He sends the two nameless constructs - people - off to explore the rest of the main floor while the two of us head upstairs.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you didn't trust me with the others." I say in a low voice, out of earshot from the rest of the group.

"I don't!" says Mark, turning around to face me on the stairs. I calculate a four foot height advantage. "You show up and suddenly, four of us are dead! What the hell do you expect?"

"If I hadn't shown up when I did, all of you would have been dead." I say, meeting his angry gaze.

"Do you remember what I told you, earlier?"

I tilt my head, walk up the last few steps until I'm standing far too close. "You said you'd kill me." I smile, and Mark takes a step back. "Would you like to try?"

We hear a scream from the main floor. Mark is rushing down the stairs toward the sound, shouting "Solara", and I follow behind at a more modest pace.

Solara has collapsed on the floor. Eli is backed up against the counter, faced by a wraith-like creature with rotting skin. Eerie green light seems to flow from its features, making the sunlight streaming in the windows seem colder somehow. Its flowing white dress seems to flutter in a non-existant breeze.

Revenant, my mind supplies me with, as it turns to face Mark. Controls illusions, typically feeds on travellers. It hasn't noticed me yet.

"Do you like my home?" the revenant asks Mark. He starts forward, but it reforms into the shape of a Chinese woman with long dark hair and modern clothing. It's someone he seems to recognize, and he freezes on the spot.

The revenant approaches him, raising one hand to his face -

I attack with a right hook to her jaw. I spin and lash out with a kick. I've left myself open. The revenent strikes with her claws, tearing my throat out. I laugh, the liquid splashing my clothes, and continue to strike at her.

Hang on, that's not fair.

What isn't? It's right on my character sheet; I'm immortal.

You should at least need some time to recuperate.

Nope.

Oh, come on, you get banished to the basement...

I take a moment to adjust to my new surroundings, dark and damp and distinctly underground. I'm in the cellar. I curse revenants in general to hell and back, but I'm not too terribly concerned with the constructs, either. Mark should be able to handle himself for a little while.

I take stock of the food in the basement, a lot of cereal and a working freezer - hey, Neapolitan ice cream. The others will be happy about that. The overhead light starts to flicker and I sigh. I see movement in the corner of the room, feel hairs raising on the back of my neck.

I spin around and catch the revenant by the throat. She's flickering back and forth between her wraith image and her human one, and I force her to the ground, crushing her windpipe. She claws uselessly at my arms, but it's too late, I've got too good of a grip on her. Unfortunately, revenants don't need to breathe, either.

There's a short flight of steps leading back to the kitchen, and I drag her up by the throat, letting her white dress drag over the dusty steps. I step into the kitchen, where the five survivors are standing around in a circle, trying to figure out what to do next.

Mark looks up first. "We thought you were dead." He accuses.

"I don't die." I say.

I throw the revenant onto the floor, where she scrambles back along the tile, surrounded by six very non-human travellers. "Now," I say, tilting my head to the side and smiling down at her, "How do we go about killing you?"

Character Creation. Scare Factor: 3.

There, I'm done. Finally.

Misha Collins advances his plans for world domination. Parents do not approve.

So, I'm sitting on the couch in our old apartment in Ixburg. My dad and I are making fun of an awful movie we rented, which makes for the majority of our father/kid bonding time. Minus work, of course.

The phone rings.

My dad picks up the cordless, and I can hear the voice on the other end, asking for Jack. I recognize the voice and make a grab for the phone, but my dad holds it out of reach. Why is everyone taller than me?

"Who's calling?"

It's Misha, says the voice on the other end. My dad scowls and hangs up on him.

"What?" I say, waving my arms. "Why would you do that?" I snatch the phone away and look at the call display, then throw him the phone and stomp off to my room.

I send a text to the number I read on call display.

Yeah, sorry about that. You should probably just call my cell.

Telephone. Scare Factor: 1.

This is getting out of hand.

I was amused to note that my tag cloud this morning said "boring sex".

I go grocery shopping in the kitchen.

I'm cooking dinner for my family, but I'm missing a few ingredients. Fortunately, our kitchen is in the middle of a grocery store.

I run around the grocery store, grabbing vegetables mostly. I'm very happy when I actually manage to find some sesame seeds (which are in short supply around here).

I start scanning the items through an empty checkout, but one of the employees says she needs to help me with that. We try to figure out if we should scan the eggplant, which has already finished cooking.

I'm in the living room of my oma's old house in Ixburg. We're playing a game that's kind of like pictionary or sharades, except you're writing keywords on a chalkboard. My dad throws a VCR tape of Star Wars under the chalkboard, and I try to remember what the rules are.

"Dutch word for 'father'", I write on the chalkboard. My teammates don't get it.

ETA: Also, a Sailor Moon-related fragment. Serenity may have been involved. I don't know; something was trying to destroy the world again.

Eggplant. Scare Factor: 1.

I work on my lucid goals and try to ignore my interfering parents.

I'm wandering through a house, and I stop at a piano. There's sheet music open, and it looks interesting, so I sit down and start to play it. I play the song through entirely, and listen to the notes hum and fade away as the song ends. Then I start from the beginning, trying to memorize it.

Still in the house, which I think might belong to a relative. My dad stops me and asks for my help with something, but something feels off. I realize that I'm dreaming and take in my surroundings, surprised by how stable the dream is, and how real everything looks. My dad still wants help, but I tell him that I can't get caught up in the dream-plot.

It was hard to tell, I say to my mom, that this was a dream. Our surroundings have been very stable, and the only part of the house that's changed has been the twin beds that appeared in the living room.

I try to remember my dream goals. Right, I wanted to open a portal. I stretch out my hand and will a circle to form, growing outward from the spot where my hand is. I start to see blue rings form, but the dream fades.

I see title credits. That's it: a black background with words on it. I don't even have a body, though I'm still lucid. My entire awareness is focused within this little black box I've made for myself.

Frustrated, I post the journal entry on the forums, in my old DJ thread. The Cusp (who I don't think I've ever interacted with) makes a few suffestions. He says that if portals don't work for me, I shouldn't force it, and should try another method.

Scare Factor: 2.

With my DCs on a probationary driving period, it's up to me to play chauffeur. Also, black cats and an upcoming apocalypse.



I'm watching a horror movie unfurl through its main character. In this dream, I'm a lonely, middle-aged man who lives in a run-down apartment in the north end of Halifax. I'm taking out the garbage, first thing in the morning, reflecting on the fact that I actually feel happy, for once. I just spent the night with a woman who I really like, and it looks as if the relationship might last.

I feel my heart sink when I step outside. The alley is swarming with black cats. I can communicate with a few of them, and they have nothing but bad news about the supernatural elements moving around town.

And that's all I remember.

***

I'm standing on a rooftop in downtown Halifax, chatting with some of the people who are starting school this year. We talk about the dilapidated, ugly buildings that are most of the school buildings. I say that I actually like them; they're fun to take photographs of.

Some of the buildings, I'm pretty sure I explored in previous dreams. One of them is practically abandoned, and you can scavenge a lot of material from the place, if you're looking for it.

I offer a girl a ride home, and we drive through (rather confusing) one ways without much incident. The roads are practically empty. Our path continues into a parking garage and up a flight of steps, and I have to shake my head at the absurdity. I reverse, and pull back onto the road. Then I start wondering about the unisex bathrooms in the building, and how great it would be if they were everywhere.

***

I'm at the Ixburg swimming pool, swimming away. We have to vacate the pool, though, to make room for the shrimp.

Oh, now there's piles of pineapple and shrimp in the pool. I pick up one of the shrimp and eat it raw, not finding anything strange about this, even though I'm a vegetarian. One of my friends looks at me in horror.

I wander over to talk to the Corrupt Corporate Executive by the lifeguard station, a woman who is obviously planning something evil. I ask her what's going on, and she candidly tells me that they're trying to bring about the apocalypse.

"Oh, well," I say, rolling my eyes. "That's all right, then."

She explains that there's actually eight or nine horsemen of the apocalypse, and how the devil, as our culture knows him, is actually one of them. She gestures at a guy with bright red skin and a scraggly beard, with insects crawling all over him.

"Is that pestilence?" I ask, looking over at him.

"No, that's the devil."

"That's not Lucifer." I say incredulously.

The woman explains that there are several entities in the known universe who have collectively been referred to as "the devil". The mythology just has us all mixed up.

"So, if I decide to kill you all, I won't be inadvertently committing suicide?"

"Not at all," the woman replies with a smile.

"Okay..." I say awkwardly. "Good to know."

Scare Factor: 3.

Kill them! Kill them all! BWAHAHAHA! Ooh, pretty flowers.

My partner and I are divvying up guns and ammunition from a trunk he brought with him. The pistols are old-style revolvers that take forever to load, so I grab two, stuffing one each down the front and back of my jeans. Which is probably a bad idea, but hey, we're in a hurry.

Our team is comprised of settlers - space explorers even. I think we've decided that we want the planet, and we're going to kill all the people in the compound ten feet away. I don't know; I haven't been paying much attention. I just want to fight.

Vicki hangs a flare gun over one of my shoulders, and I'm smoking a cigarette, for some reason. There's a fuse on the end of the flare, and I accidentally light it with my cigarette, which is now a lit match. Hurriedly, I aim over the wall of the compound and fire, starting off the battle.



A man inside the compound aims some kind of explosive firework at the rest of the team, but I'm not concerned, since I'm not part of the big group standing together like bowling pins. Morons. Things explode, and we rush the compound.

I'm behind the rest of my team, so I don't get to shoot many people. I'm a little nervous about it actually. By the time we've cleared most of the place out, most of my team members are down.

We're only shooting the people with guns, which happens to be the men, mostly. Men and women and children are all standing together, and if you would take cover, I wouldn't be shooting you! I'm holding dual pistols, sending twin shots into the chest of a man that just. won't. die. Never mind, he's down.

I get a message over the radio, saying that some kind of failsafe has been activated. Plant life is withering around the ship, and it's going to kill us, too. The ship is about to evacuate the planet, and I have to run if I don't want to be left behind.

I take off down a grassy path, trying to run as fast as I can. Quickly, I realize that I can pull in more speed, and my surroundings simultaneously blur and come into sharper focus. I was just talking about running really fast in dreams, with Puffin, and it really is the best feeling - wait a minute.

I'm lucid. I stop and look around, urgency of the Run Away task starting to dissipate. I look around at my surroundings, which are very green and very floral. It's beautiful, really.

I wander back to the landing site just because I can. The plants are dead all around the ship, and nothing's left but mud. Most of the crew are off to the side, away from the ship and avoiding whatever deadly contagion plagues the soil.

I walk right through, calling up plant life as I go. I want to talk to one of the DCs, but I'm being pulled back into the dream plot.

Suddenly, we're all peaceful and getting along with the inhabitants of the planet. I'm talking to Johanna, who's playing one of these people. I'm given a tour of the compound, and I make ivy spring up along the walls, which starts flowering immediately. It should start growing fruit within a few days (you know, since we destroyed their supplies and all).



***

Wandering around an RV, which seems to fit an entire house in it. Linkara's giving me a tour, and I'm still making flowering ivy grow along the walls. I wonder what it's feeding on.

***

My brother is driving the same car we crashed into the harbour last night. We're driving along a road that's made entirely of ice, and he's going way too fast. We're driving into an underground castle-like structure where his music lessons take place. There's a steep downward slope, and PEDESTRIANS! LOOK OUT! SLOW DOWN! And a sharp turn right after a quick ramp THAT SENDS US FLYING into the air and we're going to crash and I telekinetically shove the car back onto the road.

We come to a stop.

"Okay," says Ben, catching his breath. "Maybe I'll go a little slower next time."

Border Skirmishes. Scare Factor: 3.

New rule: DCs aren't allowed to drive. Ever.

I try to banish a spirit in the name of God. It works about as well as you'd expect.

I'm at a train station, even though I'm sure that just a second ago, I was actually on my train. I shrug it off and try to get on the next one, but the conductor informs me that they don't allow dogs. I crouch down and hug my golden retriever, and we both stare up at him with sad puppy-eyes.

The man rolls his eyes and tells me that I'll be able to get on the next train. I thank him and walk back to the platform, where the people I'm travelling with are waiting. Fortunately, they have to wait for the next train as well.

We're on the train, but something's wrong. After a bit of investigation, we conclude that the entire train is haunted. Our team of Scooby-Doo-like investigators tracks it to its source - a bathroom in one of the sleeper cars.

I'm chanting nonsense Latin, "Omnipitus spiritus, omnipitus draco lux."* I repeat the chant, but it doesn't seem to be working. In fact, the haunting seems to be getting worse, black smoke sneaking in through cracks in the bathroom mirror.



The black smoke manifests over the vanity, and I catch a glimpse of a little boy in the mirror. The smoke lashes out at my companions, and distantly, I can sense the utter terror that they're beginning to feel. The girls are frozen, unable to move, and I...

I just feel hungry.

I've forgotten about the chant, and I fall silent and step toward the smoke. It shies away from me, tendrils retreating where I try to touch.

No, that won't do at all.

My hands lay at my side, but I'm latching onto the energy with my mind, pulling it toward me, devouring it. The black energy fades into my cloudy black and red aura, but I feel just a tiny wisp escape.

The girls are catatonic, and I ignore them, stepping silently through the train cars, looking for my quarry.

I see a white rabbit, my childhood pet, hopping through one of the train cars. I pick him up, but he starts squealing and twisting in my arms, trying to get away. He's scratching up my forearms and I wonder, dimly, if he's afraid of the dark presence that's been haunting the train.

No, I realize. The last wisp of the ghost has possessed my rabbit. I pull the last bit of dark energy out of the animal, and consume it. The rabbit goes still. I try to resurrect him, but organs start to leak out of his belly, and the stitching is coming apart.

***

"Can you help me?" says the boy.

I'm possessing a ten-year old. Go me. Apparently, the White Council is after us, probably for something I did. Apparently you're not supposed to kill people in this world?

Dresden comes back wearing some sort of ceremonial mask. I'm not paying attention, so the boy freaks out and runs away. He tries to hide in a storage closet, but Dresden catches the door and takes off his mask. "It's just me, kid." I take over and tell him that "I knew that".

I'm Dresden, now. I'm inside my office, talking to Murphy. I say something about the White Council. I'm about to do something really stupid, and it'll probably involve explosions.

Exorcisms. Scare Factor: 4.

*Apparently, this is really close to the actual exorcism I was going for: ""Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica..."

In which Dad's driving lands the family in deep water. I think I saw this on Mythbusters once.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Give me five minutes, Dean - I just got off work."

I head inside and pull off my white t-shirt, and get changed into a black t-shirt and jeans. When I come back outside, Dean (and his dad's truck) are gone.

I call Sam, because Dean never answers his phone. He's laughing at me.

"Did he just ditch you again?"

"Apparently. That bitch."

***

Uncle Roy and his daughter, Natasha (who appears to be about three, here), are running up backwards escalators that are taking them to our family reunion. I join in, jumping over railings and taking the most efficient route.

I'm at the house, looking over the food table for vegetarian stuff. A younger version of myself is standing on the other side of the room. I go over to talk to zir*, but zie's avoiding me. Eventually we have to pose for a picture together, arms thrown across each other's shoulders. Well, the universe didn't explode, so we're doing fine.

I think up elaborate reasons as to why there are two of us, but I don't remember what they were.

***

I'm in the car with my dad and Roy's three daughters. They're all under ten in this dream. We're driving through a city, maybe Halifax, and I'm giving my dad directions from the back seat.

"Okay, now you're in the wrong lane," I tell him. "Turn right here."

The road takes us down to the harbour, and I tell my dad to turn left.

Instead, he decides to do a powerslide down the dock.


Oh god, oh god, we're all going to die.

We've almost made it to 180 degrees, and I decide to trust my dad, because he's a better driver than I am, really. I'm still gripping tight onto the seat, watching the world spin around us.

The momentum throws the car right off the dock. We land with a splash in the deep water, and I have a moment of disbelief. Seriously, my brother just totalled our last car.** Now this?

I'm searching for my bag, knowing that there's something important in there.

Found it. I'm holding a flashlight.

My dad tells me to aim for the window controls next to me, and smash them with the flashlight. Three of us start pounding away at our respective window-ledges with our respective flashlights. I stop for a second and see pedestrians on the boardwalk, watching us dumbly. The car is half full of water by now, and I hope one of them has the sense to dial 911.

I smash through the controls and the important wire. The window disappears. I help the girls out of the car, as the water has almost reached the window. I slide out of the window, and my dad is right behind me. I swim to the dock and pull an unresponsive (but physically unharmed) Natasha from the water.

Later, I talk to someone about the reason I didn't panic. I shrug and tell him that I figured someone would rescue us if we couldn't get out. He's doubtful, but I tell him that it didn't have to be true - it was something I told myself so I'd be able to function.

Sinking Cars. Scare Factor: 4.

*ILU, gender-neutral pronouns.

**No, really.

I survived Stonehenge Apocalypse, and all I got was this lousy macro.

I drift in and out of sleep as the wind blows my curtain open and closed. I'm watching a slideshow, or a countdown, or a list of clips in order, and why won't the curtain stay shut?

I'm standing on the deck of a hotel, looking down through the pyramid-shaped skylight. I have the feeling that someone's gonna fall through it by the end of the night. There are people milling about, drinking and generally having a good time, and I'm standing inside now.

Misha Collins shows up, once again. (There are subliminal messages on his twitter feed, I swear.) He's standing near the entrance to the pool, looking around and smiling.

"So... why are we here?" I ask.

"It was a robot head," he says seriously.



Swimming Pools. Scare Factor: 1.

Okay, guys. I'm done spamming the Recent Entries section, I promise.

Also, romance with a fictional character? Very lame. Thankfully, this can only end badly.

What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause—to use their own knowledge against them?



I'm browsing through the sale aisle at Bootlegger when I feel the temperature drop. Slowly, I place the t-shirt I was holding back on the rack, and reach out with my senses, feeling at the presence that appeared directly behind me. I can feel a stare burning into the back of my head, and I turn around, keeping my hands visible and obviously empty.

Standing there is a dark-haired man in a trench coat, staring at me without blinking. Aside from the creepiness factor, he doesn't appear to be a threat, but I can see beyond the physical. Cold light bleeds from his form, barely contained within his vessel, and I check my initial impulse to attack.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I ask, gesturing with my hands.

His expression doesn't change, though I notice a slight twitch of annoyance. "My name is Castiel. I'm an angel of the Lord." He says this tiredly, as if it's something he's had to recite a lot lately.



Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I've heard those words before. I'm still caught up in the feeling of deja vu when he says, "Luc, heaven has work for you."

The words jolt me back into the present. "Wait, what?" I say. "My name's ---."

"Of course it is." says Castiel.

I calculate my chances of being able to control the holy fire I'm about to summon. Blue flames start to dance across my fingertips and my claws lengthen in response to my irritation.

A ball of pure kinetic force slams into my side, sending me flying through the glass store-window. I pick myself up from the ground and spin to face my attacker, a man I barely get a glance at before I'm dodging another kinetic missile.

The force slams through the back wall of the shop, sending people screaming for cover. I roll into a crouching position and pull all the glass around me into the air. I throw the broken glass and the shards fly like bullets toward the attacker. Before they've even hit, I'm sending a wave of holy fire at him.

The incompatible energy burns ice-cold, sucking the heat from my bones. I collapse, shaking, fighting for breath. I manage to raise my head to look at the wall of fire that's burning on its own, and decide that it'll probably hold off the angels long enough for me to escape.

A hand grips the back of my shirt and hauls me to my feet. I look up at Castiel and groan.

"Bit of a trigger-happy bodyguard?" I complain, leaning on the angel for support. "Was that Lucifer? It looked like Lucifer." I mutter.

Castiel actually rolls his eyes. "We should depart. It would be best to avoid him for now."

"Oh no." I say, stepping back from Castiel on still-wobbly legs. "I can't take any more of your light-based heavenly magics right now. I say we walk."

Castiel just looks around our flaming surroundings. The building will probably fall down on us any second now.

"Fine." I say, closing my eyes and bracing for more hypothermia. I feel Castiel touch my shoulder, and a sudden lurch, and I open my eyes. We're standing in a three-car garage; concrete floors, white walls. The weirdest thing? I feel completely fine.

"Guess I've found an angel I'm not allergic to." I say, "Where are we?"

"Heaven."

"What?"

Castiel doesn't have time to answer. Flames are appearing from nowhere, licking up through the concrete floor and burning it away. The flames explode outward in a spiral and I shield as best as I can, but I can feel them lick at me, burning cold.

I'm running toward the door to the house, stepping onto the tile floor and slamming the door shut behind me. There's an inch of space left, and the door won't stay shut.

Last time, it actually closed the whole way, a little voice reminds me, but Lucifer is on the other side of the door, twisting the doorknob and I pull against the door, holding it shut from the inside. Lucifer is pounding on the door, causing it to rattle in its frame. I'm worried he might actually knock it down.

Of course, the fact that he hasn't is a little insulting.

"You know, I am way better at being you." I mutter.

I look around for something to brace the door with. The garage opens directly into the kitchen. Metatron is walking through on the far side, behind the island.



"Hey, Metatron! A little help here?" I say hopefully, still holding the door shut. It shudders against the onslaught.

Metatron looks down his nose at me. "Honestly, Luc, the lot of you are acting like children," he sneers, and continues on his way.

"My name is ---!" I shout at his retreating back.

The feeling of ice water is creeping back into my veins. I shiver and lean against the doorframe for support, gripping the doorknob with my right hand. I hear shouting from the other side of the door and the noise is lessening. Lucifer's not trying to get in.

When Castiel appears beside me, the room seems to get a little warmer. I'm clutching at the lapels of his trench coat before I even realize what I'm doing. The cold is fading away, though, and I decide that it's worth the awkwardness.

"Is he gonna back off?" I grumble into Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel tentatively places his arms around me. "Raphael understands that we need your help. So long as you don't burn down any more buildings, I think you'll be fine." He pauses, considering. "If he finds out that you mistook him for Lucifer, though, he might try to kill you again."

"Raphael." I blink, pulling away. "That makes more sense."

"I also recommend that you remain close to me," Castiel says, "Heaven's defenses seem to have an adverse affect on you as you are now."

I shiver. "Fair point. Now what the hell is it you want me to do?"

---

It turns out, the bright blue energy I've been playing with for the last few weeks has been wreaking havoc on Heaven's delicate ecosystem. For some strange, probably sinister reason, I'm the only one who can fix it.

Part of the living room has been torn away to reveal a crack in the dream-fabric. Blue electricity is spitting from the black chasm, and the angels in the room shy away from it every time it crackles. Castiel and I walk into the room without much fanfare, though the two angels hurry out as soon as we get there.

"Is there something I'm missing?" I wonder aloud.

"You need to absorb the Lux. We'll be able to repair the tears," says Castiel, pointedly not answering my question.

"So there is something I'm missing." I say, turning around to look at Castiel. "What happens to me if I do this?"

Castiel's face is deliberately expressionless. "You'll be able to withstand our defenses on your own for a time. Once we've repaired the tear, I'll return you to Earth and the Lux will fade away on its own."

I turn back to the tear, staring into the terrifying void, alive with crackling blue. It's breathtaking, in a way.

"---," he says, catching my elbow. I look back at him. "Please do this."

I smile and say, "I never could say no to you, Cas." It feels like I've said the words before.

Castiel pulls back like he's been burned, and I turn to the void, holding out a hand and bracing myself. I focus on the blue energy and pull -



It's like crashing headfirst into a star. The whole world is alive - burning - and I can see. I can see everything. I can see blue, blue, bright, light blue, and it's trailing after every living thing in the universe. I don't know. I don't know what it is, but it's not light, not like Heaven, not like the power Readers have. It's deeper, more primal, and it wants nothing more than to be free -

My world explodes with blue light, and my bits and pieces of awareness are interrupted by the intense humming of the Lux in my veins. I'm vaguely aware of strong arms pulling me away from the hungry black tears in the dream-fabric, of clutching at the rough fabric of a coat, trying to hold on to something tangible, before I'm torn away from him and left to calm down.

The next thing I know, I'm in the kitchen. I'm sitting on a stool at the island, propping my elbows up on the granite countertop, resting my chin on my hands. Most of my attention is on the movie being projected on the wall across the room. I have a vague recollection of choosing Dogma just to be obstinate.

Castiel walks in from the living room, looking neither more or less rumpled than he usually does.

"How'd it go?" I ask.

"We were successful, thanks to you," he says. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." I say, "Better than fine." I can still feel the Lux thrumming through my veins, offering me power beyond my wildest dreams.

As much as I might like Cas, he doesn't need to know that.

"We've done this before, haven't we?" I ask quietly.

Castiel looks away, and I catch his hand in mine. He meets my gaze, looking sad.

I let go of the breath I was holding. "Wish I could remember."

Our hands are still threaded together, and he squeezes my hand, says, "Let me take you home."

And we're standing at the center of an empty city square, bathed in orange under the afternoon sun. The cobblestones are warm beneath my feet, and the air is dry and still. Castiel and I are holding hands, and when I look up at him, my breath catches in my throat.

"We'll just do the same thing, Cas, over and over again. You know that."

"It has to be this way."

"It doesn't." I insist, but Castiel is already letting go of my hands.

"I'm sorry, ---." He raises two fingers to my forehead, preparing to erase my memories.

My force push sends him flying through a brick wall. Dust and mortar fly everywhere and the angel collapses in a heap. The rest of the wall falls in on him.

I'm standing with my palms outstretched, panting. I let my hands fall to my sides, and watch silver-white light leak from the pile of stones. I don't have much time.

I flee the square, running over the cobblestones and heading toward the cliff overlooking the rest of the city. I don't slow down; I leap from the cliff and focus on the rooftops hurtling toward me.

As I land, I blanket this section of the city with my black and red aura, sending my awareness out in all directions until only the blue-white energy is left. I can feel the pull to a place only I can find, and I close my eyes and let myself drift toward Lux.

Seven Minutes in Heaven. Scare Factor: 3.