The Destiny Trilogy

Book One: The Legend of Chantri-Bova

Author's Note: Hello again, and Merry Christmas! This is the chapter that made this whole rewriting process worth it. Once again, a lot of this will feel familiar, but I've sharpened the moments that I felt were pivotal, and trust me, once it gets there, the story never turns back.

I look forward to hearing from everyone to see what you think. Thanks in advance, and if you have any suggestions, please lemme hear it!

Finally, I apologize for this being so late (about a week and change later than I'd like), but finals were a bitch. Sigh, college…

Thanks: Thanks once again to one of my most consistent readers, Stellar Raven. Your feedback as always had been most insightful and I hope I do justice to your advice with this chapter.

Disclaimer: The lyrics are from Lady Saw's "Got Your Man". Download the song and then read the scene again. You'll laugh your ars off.

Warning: Contains racial slurs and derogatory slurs toward women and gays. Also contains slash and other sexual situations. No intent to offend, but it was appropriate for the characters.

Chapter 5: Undoing

The Near Future…

On the days when he felt he would lose his mind, Helaprosti took his leave of the often confining security of the Grounds, and took a walk in the untamed woods surrounding it.

On this particularly unsettling day, he perched himself on a large rock and just watched the colorful leaves swirl in the breeze.

"Maxedes…" he sighed.

"Yes?" a voice from behind him replied.

Helaprosti cautiously turned to the speaker and all of a sudden all his old, long-forgotten—or perhaps well-suppressed—feelings came rushing back to him with such a force that it nearly stole his breath.

"Maxedes? Could it really be you?" the young man asked in hope and disbelief of the redheaded figure before him. "I thought you were…I thought I had…"

"Shh," the redhead interrupted with a finger to the other's quivering lips. "There'll be no talk of such things now." Then the newcomer drew the stunned boy closer and requested, "Let me take you away from all this."

Back to the Show!

Monday Morning, September 28th, Fletcher High School…

They would've been foolish to think that somehow trouble wouldn't find them; a weekend of training and meditation made sure that they held no such false pretenses. Still, they hoped that it wouldn't be as bad as what they'd been made to expect.

Yet there it was, right before their very eyes: their collective worst nightmares brought to life.

The five approached the public institution that was Fletcher High School and saw the bigger, badder Haezoh Supreme have their way with whoever had the misfortune of being in their path.

One Supreme grabbed hold of a poor girl, held onto her head and proceeded to extract something from her eyes using the awful vines that grew from their heads, affectively stabbing them out, and it was hard to tell what was worse: her blood-curdling screams, or the dead silence that followed…

As if the scene weren't crazy enough, the sound of approaching police sirens just added to the chaotic air.

But the well-meaning police officers soon realized they were in way over their heads, for they were viciously and efficiently cut down by the Haezoh Supreme, and met with the same fate as that unfortunate girl…

All this madness caught the attention of the local news, and reporters and cameramen were there recording it all.

And so there, in front of all the cameras, the young heroes morphed…

"Alright, fellahs, you know what time it is!" Brad interjected. It was time for the Call. "Dalog Yodogh, unite!" Brad commanded.

"Dalog Eagle!" he continued.

"Dalog Wolf!" John chimed.

"Dalog Owl!" came Liz.

"Dalog Phoenix!" Antoinette shouted.

"Dalog Pegasus!" added Pete, which ended the roll call.

From each one's center came a glowing intricate circular pattern. And from those circular patterns emerged strips of light-enriched cloth that snaked their way around our heroes' limbs, becoming their suits, with their icons above their hearts like a badge, and the suit was topped off by their helmets, accented with weapons on their backs that they had only just begun to learn how to use.

"Bravo! Bravo! Good show!" someone heckled. The Keepers scanned the area to find the source, but the source made it easy for them by suddenly bringing himself into visibility.

The mockery continued. "Don't you all look sharp in your colorful costumes!"

"Who are you?" Brad demanded.

"You all will come to know me well. You may call me Giniz," he introduced with a chuckle, bowing graciously. He wore shiny black armor, trimmed in strips of burgundy cloth, a black cloak with burgundy inner lining, and wore a mask on his face, so even though our heroes couldn't see it, they knew he was smiling.

"Call off your men, Giniz!" Brad demanded.

"Don't be so naïve, Red Keeper. You know I'll do no such thing," Giniz replied, all humor gone from his voice.

"Alright, then. No more talk," came Brad's steely reply.

It was go time...

All around them, there were people running for cover, cops trying to regain their bearings, reporters trying to capture all the action, and to top it all off, it had started snowing. But despite all that, all seemed surprisingly still and quiet to our five heroes. All the combatants could hear was the sound of each other's breathing…

Warm breath in cold air…

The Red Keeper conjured his sword and sized up his black-armored foe. Despite the fact that Giniz was wearing a mask, he could tell that he was being ridiculed. Brad stepped forward and readied his weapon. Giniz did the same, and after a moment the dark-armored warrior broke their silence with a booming laugh.

"Attack!" he ordered, and watched as the Haezoh Supreme launched forward.

All too suddenly there came a flood of sound. The clashing of weapons, the cries of battle...

The two were locked in a spirited sword fight. The young warrior was alarmed at how skilled his opponent was; while he struggled to keep up, Giniz looked as though it were no problem at all!

At one point Giniz took a swipe at Brad's midsection, causing him to leap back and then back-flip out of the way. With inhuman speed, the masked man charged at him. Brad barely had enough time to dodge the downward slash of his Dark sword.

Giniz then followed through with a swipe at the boy's head, which he leaned back to avoid. Then Giniz quickly thrust forward with his sword, which Brad couldn't avoid; the tip of the Dark sword met his midsection. But the Red Keeper did manage to clasp the tip in his hands before it could penetrate, forcing him to drop his own sword.

The red-clad warrior traveled back a few steps to avoid getting run through, then in one swift movement, moved the tip away from him, kicked at Giniz' ribs and pulled the Dark sword from Giniz' hand.

Brad then attempted to side-kick Giniz again, but only got his foot swatted away. He used that momentum to deliver a spinning-heel kick to his opponent's head, but it only caught air, sailing over Giniz' ducked head.

When Brad returned to forward position, he was surprised by an uppercut, followed by a cross and then a roundhouse kick, followed by a leg-sweep, all of which connected.

The Red Keeper ended up sprawled out on the ground, reeling from all the blows delivered to his helmeted head. He barely reacted to the booted foot that threatened to crush his ribs in time.

Brad rolled out of the way and kicked himself back to his feet, then tackled the masked man as if he were on the football field, managing to ram Giniz into a tree.

Unfortunately, the position Brad was in made it easy for the masked creep to put him in a headlock. From there, Giniz proceeded to elbow Brad in the back, causing Brad's stance to falter and almost fall to his knees. But Giniz wasn't through; he began kneeing the boy through the midsection until he did come to his knees…

God…That felt worse than when he got sacked by that bulldozer of a quarter-back a few games back. The Red Keeper could swear he heard his ribs break!

Jesus...

But the assault didn't stop there.

Giniz then hefted the boy up by the waist so that his legs swung up and gave him a temporary seated position atop Giniz' shoulders. Brad realized what was about to happen; he watched enough WWE to know.

Oh shit, was Brad's last thought before Giniz suplexed him, sending his back crashing into the frost-hardened earth below, completely deflating his lungs…

"Stay behind me!" the Pink Keeper commanded a fellow student as she gathered enough energy and concentration to build a force field around them. The poor guy was bruised and positively shaking; Liz could feel the fright emanating from him. She would do all she could to protect him.

But in spite of how much her heart went out to the guy, she couldn't keep frustration from seeping in. For truth be told, she had just begun to gain the upper hand and was handling the Supreme when the kid got in the way.

Now here she was, pretty much a sitting duck in her force field while the Supreme assaulted it mercilessly….

Must concentrate, the pink-clad girl scolded herself. She willed herself to block out the guy's frightened whimpers, the clash of combat, and the chaos of the panicked populous, until there was only her breathing; she had to first make herself still before she could will anything else into stillness—for that was the plan.

Stop, Liz wordlessly commanded of what little life still lingered in the Haezoh Supreme—and it obeyed. Only then did she drop the force field.

"Run!" she commanded the civilian as she conjured her staff, and along the side of it emerged blades becoming a halberd and in one swift movement Liz had done away with the thing's head.

Slowly the sound came back in—just in time to hear the whistling sound of a small combustible orb flying at her from above...

Nearby, the Supreme was coming at the Blue Keeper with everything it had, setting the pace with its Swords of Green energy. John was pretty sure of himself and his two axes, but those swords were none to be underestimated. He had to find a way to disarm the thing—and disarm he did!

John took the opportunity presented to him and swung one of his axes—cutting off one of the Supreme's arms! The creature swung its other arm, which John blocked with his forearm, and in the same motion, sheathed the axe in his other hand, then reached out with his free hand and touched the Supreme.

Our blue-clad hero smiled as he back-flipped away from the one-armed creature and transformed into a navy blue version of the super-sized faceless being, brandishing his own pair of Swords—of glowing Blue energy.

John couldn't get over how weird it was to "see" from the Haezoh point of view; the damn things had no eyes! They actually see through very high and very low pitched sound. So John could actually see the Supreme before him beyond clearly.

Weird...

He then dropped the Supreme form choosing only to keep the swords, and went at the one-armed Supreme again. John crossed his arms in front of him as he charged, and uncrossed them in an attempt to cut the Haezoh Supreme in two through the midsection, but the one-armed Supreme leapt into the air, bouncing off of John's shoulder and landing behind him.

One-armed as it was, the Supreme was still quite formidable, launching back at John with his single Sword of Green energy…

The one-armed creature made a downward swipe at the Blue Keeper's head with its sword, which he dodged. Without missing a beat, the Supreme followed through with a spinning-heel kick, which caught him at the side of the head. Then the Supreme followed that up with a forward kick to John's solar plexus.

The boy stumbled back. The monster quickly closed the distance and thrust forward with its single sword, which John parried, and in the same motion spun and swung his other sword at the thing's head, only to find that no connection was made because the Blue Energy blade was caught—by the thing's vine-dreads! And what's more, the vine-dreads were climbing up the blue blade, threatening to claim John's arm along with a burning sensation characteristic with acid!

"Ah! Fuck!" John wailed and tried to pull his arm free by bracing his foot against the Supreme—only to find that his foot was sinking into it! Then his entire leg! Then most of his right side!

Quicksand. The one state John couldn't mimic. Why the hell had he dropped the Haezoh form?

"Aaaaaahh!" John screamed as he realized what was happening. His mind flashed back to what happened to Antoinette in their first run-in with the Haezoh and realized he couldn't free himself the way she did.

But before he could think too deeply that this may be how he dies, there came a flash of blue-white which completely encapsulated the Supreme—including the part of him that was ensnared within it.

Snug.

Before John could fully process that whatever he was partially encased in was really frigging cold, there came a padding of feet, and a hell of a battle cry before a dark figure crashed through it.

The impact knocked him flat on his ass.

"Hey, babe," came an amused female voice. "I thought you were attached to me!" the Black Keeper joked as she extended her hand to him. He accepted it gratefully.

"Thanks, Nette. I thought I was a goner for a second," John admitted, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet by his girlfriend. In spite of his seared right arm, he embraced her tightly.

"Anytime, hun," the Black Keeper pledged, returning his embrace. God, he wished he could kiss her! Stupid helmets...

"Later, sexy," he teased, finally releasing her and giving her backside a playful smack. She giggled and ran off.

John smiled after her and then turned his attention to Brad; perhaps he should help Brad even the odds a little bit...

Meanwhile, still elsewhere, all Pete knew was the pain of the dagger as it pierced the muscle above his right armpit, and he felt himself being pinned to a tree like a thumbtack.

Struggling to free himself was beyond painful, but staying there wasn't an option, for now he was a sitting duck.

Pete had let that thing get the better of him and now he was pinned up on a tree. Tree...That's it! Here's to hoping he can actually glinch wood…

The Green Keeper placed his gloved left hand flat against the bark and turned his hand to wood, then transformed his wooden hand into a thick wooden spire, which he plunged into the Supreme's core.

He managed to place a couple fingers on his other hand against the tree, and then touched his left arm with them, transferring more wood to it, widening the spire within the Supreme.

Needless to say, the Supreme wasn't moving much after that. Unfortunately, the thing's leaf dagger still had him pinned to the tree.

The Green warrior un-glinched his left arm which was holding the "dead" creature in a standing position. As a result the Supreme had slumped down to its knees, which pulled the leaf dagger down into a new angle which hurt like no other.

"Ah, God!" the green warrior gasped as he grabbed the Supreme's hand and attempted to pull out the dagger. "Aaaaaaaaaahhh!" he screamed out as he gave the thing a mighty tug, the stubborn jagged blade finally came free and slumped to his knees…

In another area, Antoinette thrust one of her sais at the Supreme's head, but it pierced nothing but air, for the slick beast had dodged. The oversized thing then grabbed onto Antoinette's extended arm with one hand and sent its other elbow into her gut, then, with that same arm, the creature pulled down the back of her head throwing her over him.

"Ow," Antoinette groaned as her backside connected hard with the concrete sidewalk. But she quickly recovered, rolling onto all fours and sweeping the legs from under the super-sized Haezoh. Then when it fell to the ground, she dropped her heel hard into its non-face, and quickly scrambled to her feet.

The Supreme kick-spun itself back to its feet and shook its head. The girl back-flipped to put some distance between them.

The creature, now recovered, launched those ominous thorny vines that were now twice as thick—and twice as thorny—at her head. The Black Keeper batted it away, but the Supreme was charging her, brandishing one of those leaf daggers that were attached to the top of their hands.

She quickly flipped over the Supreme's head but the creature had really good reflexes, quickly reaching up to cut at her thigh, forcing her to crash land…

The Grounds…

Helaprosti was having a difficult time staying at the Grounds; as the damage to his Keepers started to mount, the more powerful the urge to jump in. And when Antoinette—already his favorite—crash-landed after being cut out of the air, it took everything in him to not sail in and chop that faceless thing into mince meat.

But he knew this was their rite of passage—as it's always been…

So with great difficulty he stayed put at the Library and monitored the raging battle on the screen.

But he pledged to himself that there'll be no more of this sitting on his hands from here on out...

Back to the Fight…

Before Antoinette could fully process the pain she was in, the Supreme had straddled her, and stabbed downwards with its leaf dagger.

The girl had to drop her sais and grasp the dagger to keep it from penetrating her neck. But because it was twice its usual size, laid flat atop the thing's hand and had an irregular shape, grasping it was no easy task. As a result, it cut her palms—and slid that much closer to her neck...

She needed to get this thing off of her—and she knew just how.

Lightning! she mentally invoked, and from her visor streamed lightning straight to the non-face of the monster, successfully blasting it off of her. Then she rerouted the lightning to her hands and picked up her sais, electrifying them. She then launched them towards the Supreme that was beginning to right itself, lodging in the thing's chest.

The Supreme began to quake as the electricity coursed through it. She summoned water and designated it to one hand, then clasped both hands together and aimed them at her adversary.

"Ready, aim, fire!" she quipped as she sent a stream of electrified water at the already spasmodic Supreme, and watched with gratification as it finally exploded with a loud BOOOM!

Meanwhile…

Liz re-awoke realizing that she was wet and extremely cold.

"Am I dead?" she asked herself as she tried to clear her vision. Then sound started flooding back in, and after some thought she realized that the sounds she was hearing were that of battle.

The fight was still on, which sucked, but also meant that she was still alive.

She sat up with some difficulty to better take in the chaos around her and realized that she had landed in a pile of snow. Goodness knows how long she was laying there. But the snow seemed to help with her scorched back.

Amid the confusion she saw a green figure zig-zagging toward her.

"Liz! Are you okay?" Pete asked frantically once he'd reached her side.

"Other than the fact that I feel like I fell asleep on a lava bed? Peachy," Liz replied, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet.

"Whoa, Petey! What happened to you?" Liz redirected, observing the bleeding hole just under Pete's shoulder.

"I had a run-in with a really sharp leaf," Pete replied flatly.

BOOOM!

They both jumped at the sound of the explosion.

"What the hell was that?" Liz bellowed, still a bit shaky with her own explosive encounter. They narrowed the sound down to the area not far from Antoinette.

"Nette!" they both cried out and rushed to where she was sitting bleeding on the ground.

"What happened?" Pete asked, looking over the charred bits of decayed flesh.

Breathing heavily, the Black Keeper replied, "He cut my leg, so I blew him back to hell."

"Roar! Remind me to never get on your bad side!" Pete joked as he and Liz carefully helped Antoinette to her feet.

"Aww, Petey, you know I love you!" Antoinette teased, causing the boy to blush under his helmet.

"Don't we all look a lovely mess!" Liz chirped, marking the various shades of red they all sported. That comment garnered a hearty laugh from all three. But the shouts of battle cut their laughter short as they realized that Brad and John were still in it with Giniz…

Before Brad could fully recover from the pain that reverberated through his very marrow, he felt himself being hoisted back into the air, to be once again slammed back to earth.

Giniz re-conjured his Dark sword, poised to strike. But before he could act he felt a tap at his shoulder and turned around to acknowledge it. Mistake.

Once turned, there would be a blue-gloved fist ready to rock his jaw.

"Hello," the blue figure greeted before following through with a cross which caused Giniz to stumble back a few steps, nearly tripping over Brad.

"Yo, Brad! Wake up!" John demanded.

"Stop...yelling..." Brad mumbled. "Just lemme close my eyes for one second..." he said, allowing his eyes to flutter beneath his helmet. But he was startled back into wakefulness at the sounds of John's pained screams.

"Stop yelling!" Brad rebuked, his own voice ringing through his head. "Ah," he groaned as he pulled himself to his feet.

Giniz had John's arms pulled straight behind him and that was when he saw the Blue Keepers burnt arm.

"Holy shit, John!" Brad exclaimed.

"You're welcome," John replied through clenched teeth.

"Thanks," the Red Keeper added almost as an afterthought as he reclaimed his sword and put it in Rifle Mode.

But he couldn't get a clear shot now that John had wrestled out of Giniz' hold and was now engaging him in hand-to-hand—and foot—combat. Shit!

"Giniz!" the Red Keeper called, aiming his gun. Giniz quickly compensated, pulling John in front of him as a shield.

"Go on, Red Keeper!" the masked man taunted, "Save me the trouble!"

John took the opportunity Giniz' jabbering brought to send his elbow into Giniz' armored gut and then threw the Dark Warrior over his shoulder.

With inhuman speed, Giniz kicked himself to his feet and turned to face John commending, "You're a clever one, aren't you."

Brad took this opportunity to pull the trigger, but the bullets stopped in midair and simply dropped moments before impact!

Holy shit! both boys thought.

Giniz laughed at the novice warriors and brushed off his cloak. "We will meet again, Keepers!" Giniz promised, then disappeared in a tornado of burgundy silk, leaving our five heroes alone with the scattered remains of the Haezoh.

That battle left them feeling worn; they were exhausted and battered. Liz sneezed.

Now that the smoke had cleared, the reporters and cameramen dared to venture out to the colorful warriors seemingly closing in on them, and that, in spite of the battle they had just undergone, really freaked them out. So they teleported away, leaving the reporters to make of the madness whatever they wished…

It made no sense to go on as if the day were normal. Going back to the school was not an option. Besides, in light of recent events, school might be closed for the day. Maybe forever! So instead, the teenagers went to the only place they felt safe at the moment: the Grounds. Back to an anxious Helaprosti.

They each gave themselves over to their mentor's tending, battered and bloody, and feeling like hell. The teens were so shaken that they couldn't even comment on how it felt to morph for the first time; that surge of power and strength that came over them…They just wanted to wait for everything to spin back to normal.

"It will only get worse from here, Keepers," Helaprosti assured, but somehow they already knew that—they just didn't want to hear it out loud. And they especially didn't want to think about what their parents would say when they went home…

"My mom is just gonna bust a blood vassal, she's so gonna freak," Liz fretted. Most of the team expressed similar concerns; John sat quiet.

Indeed, the teens hadn't given much thought to what they'd do if their parents ever found out. But now that the media was involved, there was little to no chance that their parents would stay in the dark for long. Needless to say, none of them were in any real rush to go home.

"Don't think about that now," Helaprosti suggested. "Rest and give yourselves time to heal." The worst is yet to come.

Once the others had left for bed, Helaprosti began his sword training, finding it easier to think this way.

The White Keeper settled on a locale, a temple. He missed the calm of such a place.

This backdrop was ripped right from memory. Maybe this way he could find that elusive sense of peace.

Yes, even statues of flesh such as himself needed to feel a sense of wellbeing.

There was no resolve without a steady heart. One that didn't leap where most would—or should…

One that was trained to be detached—a skill he sadly hadn't fully mastered even after all these years.

But if he appeared so…If he could appear as if his heart was absent when lives needed to be risked, maybe just maybe he could get through this.

Wellbeing…there was something to be said about the solitary pursuit of it all…

Push that terribly human organ away. Be like stone.

People will suffer, and people will die. Stick always to the facts.

Do as you're told and you'll do fine at this, heart be damned…

With every movement, something new would resurface. His past. His present. His uncertain future—and with every sword slash he mercilessly cut them away.

He had to keep it together. That was his job…

Tuesday, the Arctic Palace...

Ptep returned to find his palace back to its original glorious state, as promised. He took a moment to get reacquainted with the rooms and corridors.

All at once he was reminded of Chantri, for, for a brief, shining moment, this was her home as well. He wanted his beloved wife back. He couldn't accept the fact that she was dead. Something as simple as an arrow shouldn't have killed her. She was murdered, and he knew by whom.

Now he could kill two birds with one stone…

Without realizing it, he had made it to the Throne Room and found himself in his father's throne. "Lord gil-Matri, some guests to see you," Giniz announced.

"Thank you, General Giniz. Send them in," Ptep consented.

"These four gentlemen have come to take you up on your offer, Lord gil-Matri. I present to you Qiqofu, military and political specialist; Siddhartha, expert in the sciences; Lucid, prominent merchant in the Intergalactic Black Market; and Prince Ceas, son of Emperor Staida, heir apparent to the Rebirth Dynasty.

Once Giniz' introductions were completed, there was a silence. Ptep eyed the four expectantly for a while and then spoke.

"What, no offerings of goodwill, or professions of loyalty?" When no replies came, he muttered to himself, "I see."

"I suppose you all still think me a joke, and that the Great Being is my only shred of credibility, yes?" Ptep asked as he stepped down from the throne and approached the four men that were lined up before him. "Well I assure you, gentlemen, that I have a plan of my own and a means of executing it. But perhaps one or two of you require a bit more convincing, yes?" Ptep enquired as he surveyed the four men, then locked eyes with one of them.

"Why, I remember you! You thought I was particularly funny!" Ptep recounted with an amiable smile as he stood before the man introduced as the Prince. "Still feel like laughing?" Ptep asked the smirking man. Ptep then promptly dropped his friendly smile and glared at the smug Prince, his attractive human appearance subsiding to reveal disturbing snake-like features—and at that moment the man showed fear.

Ptep's eyes glowed silver, which immobilized the fear-stricken man. He grinned to reveal his newly unsheathed fangs and grabbed the petrified man by the neck and posed, "How about now?" before violently biting into him.

The man's eyes opened wide in surprise and agony, and he gasped as he struggled to hold on to his life—and his soul. But there was no use, for in moments the man's eyes were drained of all color, his skin turned pallid to match.

There was nothing more for the man to offer so Ptep let him fall, and followed his descent with fascination. Ptep then reassumed his former appearance and looked up at the horror-stricken faces of the remaining three with a childish sparkle in his eyes and said, "Do not cross me. Do not underestimate me. Or you shall meet his same fate," then he wiped away some of the blood that remained on his lips with his thumb and sucked it clean.

Elsewhere…

Brad offered everyone a ride home. In spite of the fact that they all knew they could just teleport, no one declined. So they all teleported back to the school where Brad's car was still parked, and one by one allowed Brad to drop them home.

The Diamond Residence…

"Hey, mom. Hey, dad," Pete greeted, closing the front door behind him. Brad's car could be heard peeling out in the distance.

"Hey, Petey! How come you didn't ask Brad to come in?"

"Mom, he has his own home to go to," Pete replied flatly. If he was glad to get home before, all that vanished.

"Wow, son! We didn't know you had that kind of fight in you! I guess Brad is finally rubbing off on you!" Pete's father cheered, clapping him on his still-sore shoulder. Evidently they had seen the news…

"One Brad is enough, dad," Pete replied with a sneer, shaking off his father's arm.

God, it seemed like ever since that day Brad stepped in to keep him from getting his ass kicked, Brad's become their favorite new son. He seemed like the ideal kid; the good-looking, popular, jock...

Whatever...

Pete rotated his neck from side to side and stretched his arms, wincing a bit at his shoulder. The wound was sealed and was healing, but it still hurt.

"Mom. Dad. I'm really tired. I'm just gonna go to bed."

He was tired. Nothing new there.

But despite how his body ached, and demanded rest, he couldn't shut his mind off; he had achieved the most amazing position of super-hero and it still wasn't enough. It'll never be enough...

He couldn't stay there a minute longer, this was a fact. He knew of one place, at least, where he would be appreciated.

He leapt out of bed, quickly packed a suitcase, and announced to his parents on his way out, "Mom. Dad. I'm leaving."

The St. Arch Residence…

The young man pulled into his driveway turned off his ignition, stepped out of his car and went into his house, to be greeted by a very anxious mother and father. Oh, boy. Here we go.

"Brad, what have you gotten yourself into?" asked Brad's father with concern and a tinge of anger. Brad explained everything from the football field on down.

"We just had to help, pop! Helaprosti was getting clobbered!" Brad exclaimed.

"And this was what you were doing on Friday night? Fighting monsters?" Mr. St. Arch continued.

Averting his eyes, Brad answered, "Yes, sir."

"And this Hela-whatever character is?" the man pressed.

"Helaprosti, pop. He's the one that introduced us to our powers," Brad replied.

"And told you that you needed to fight those creatures?"

Brad paused before answering.

"Yes."

"Well, that's a job for the police!" the older man argued.

"Pop, you saw what happened! The cops are in way over their heads!" Brad rebutted.

"So, five teenagers have to risk their lives because it's all of a sudden their job?"

Brad looked his father squarely in the eyes and responded, "Yes."

The Campbell Residence…

"God, Antoinette! We moved from the city to get away from the violence!" her father bellowed.

"I know, daddy," Antoinette replied as she took her coat off and hung it in the closet by the door.

"The fighting everyday at school, the constant suspensions!" her father continued, now pacing.

"I know, daddy," Antoinette answered, pulling off her high-heeled boots.

"How are you wearing those? There must be six inches of snow out there!" her father deviated.

"Oh, daddy, you know I ride with Brad now," Antoinette answered calmly as she walked into the living room. Back on track, her father continued, "Now you're fighting monsters!"

"Daddy, mind your heart. Have a seat," Antoinette directed. Her father sighed and conceded.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you. And ever since your mother died..." he explained, but was cut off when Antoinette said, "Yes, daddy. Would you like some tea?" and popped up out of her seat to mask her discomfort and get some before her father could answer.

She took her sweet time making the two cups, then offered her father a mug, and reclaimed her seat.

"Look, daddy. I've assessed all the risks and I accept them. I want to do this, daddy. I have to," she argued. "We were chosen for a reason. If we don't take on this responsibility, who will?"

"Daddy, please trust me. I feel this is something I'm meant to do," she delivered, looking her father squarely in the eyes.

Meanwhile, at the Jude Residence…

Ah-choo! Ah crap, Liz was getting a cold. Just dandy. She closed the door behind her and stepped inside.

"Bless you!" came her mother's voice from the dining room, which startled the living daylights out of the girl.

"ay dios mio!, you scared me!" she exclaimed, holding a hand over her heart. "How come you're not at work?"

Shutting off the TV, Liz's mother countered, "How come you're not at school?"

Walking over and giving her mother a kiss on the cheek, Liz replied, "Wasn't safe."

"So after you, Brad and the others fought those creatures, where did you go?" she asked sternly.

"Ma..." Liz began, but her mother wasn't finished.

"When were you gonna tell me?" Ms. Jude pressed. "When were you gonna tell me that your friends fight monsters as an extracurricular activity? And what were those things anyway?"

Liz was overwhelmed; all these questions made her feel like she was on trial.

Ah-choo!

"Salúd," her mother offered as she gave Liz a napkin from off the table.

"Haezoh," Liz said, after she blew her nose.

"What?" the woman asked.

"The monsters we were fighting are called the Haezoh," the girl explained, pulling up a chair.

"And how do you know this?" her mother pressed.

"Our mentor, Helaprosti, briefed us," Liz replied, feeling very much like a criminal being interrogated in one of those cop shows.

"Hela...as in 'Helen'?" the woman realized, getting very worked up.

"Ma, relax! I'll tell you everything…"

Meanwhile at the Houlihan Residence…

John opened the front door to his house to once again be greeted by the pungent stench of dirty clothes, garbage and sex.

God, when was this place getting cleaned? he wondered. But John had a feeling that even if this place were cleaned today, the stench would still linger for weeks.

"Oo, there's our little super hero!" the scantily clad, live-in skank squealed as she made her way over to John to give him a hug. John recoiled in disgust. What gave this hooch the impression that she could claim him? Then he chuckled once he realized something; she had seen the news! He didn't realize she watched anything other than soaps!

"The fuckin' little fag!" came his father's thunderous voice, dashing away John's moment of amusement.

"What?" John sputtered.

"I know I didn't raise no fuckin' fairy!" John's father continued, shoving him. "Yet there you are, on national fuckin' television in some goddamn tights!"

Oo...John clenched his fists and breathed heavily. He was two seconds away from drop-kicking this mother fucker in the throat.

"First of all, Dan," John emphasized. "In order to raise someone, you'd have to actually give more than two shits."

"Don't you fuckin' talk to me like that, you little..." Dan growled, rearing his fist back but John just put up his hand—and the man actually paused! Ha! The boy continued.

"And second of all, Dan, I had no say in what my suit would look like," John delivered with hate radiating from his eyes. With great effort, John brought his hand back down to his side, and turned to go to his room.

"I'm not through with you, boy!" the gruff man demanded.

"But I'm through with you, Dan," John replied and made his way up the stairs to his room.

Moments later he reemerged with a duffle bag in hand as if that bag was always on standby. He made his way down the stairs and had his hand on the doorknob of the front door, when he heard the little trick weep, "Oh, Dan, don't let him leave!"

"Don't worry baby-doll," John's father reassured. "The little fag ain't got no place to go."

Not bothering to turn around, John calmly replied, "Go to hell," and walked through the door letting it slam shut behind him.

"Get back here, you ungrateful bastard!" Dan barked, jetting for the door, but by the time he opened it, John was gone.

Wednesday...

Fresh meat. The new hot topic. You couldn't switch on a TV without hearing someone trying to dig their claws into the freshman team. They ceased to be people and overnight became public property.

It didn't feel good to switch on the TV in hopes of getting away from reality and only succeed at hearing yourself being referred to as a freak. But how could our heroes set the record straight when they themselves lacked all the information?

Because the recent burst of Haezoh activity was unexplained and unpredictable, schools and office buildings county-wide would be closed until further notice.

So for now our colorful heroes were obligated to protect society—but not to participate in it…

Until further notice...That could mean days or even weeks! No school. No football practice. Nothing to fix. Brad was not just going to sit at home and rot, and that last tussle with Giniz made him realize that he had so much more work to do. Training sounded like the best course of action. Surely the others must feel the same way he did…

Plastered on every channel were pre-battle pictures of the five, blazed across the screen like mug shots.

"Who are these children who so readily take on those creatures? Are they friend or foe?" the anchorman mused.

God, do they really have to wonder? Those Haezoh-creeps were killing people! John and the others stopped them! It was pretty damn clear to him!

John switched off the TV in disgust. He could stand to punch something...

Who would've thought that seeing yourself on TV would be so weird? It was so surreal watching yourself. And not just as a passer-by, but as the focus.

So that's what morphing looked like...God, look at that...did they have to catch every gory detail?

But it didn't end with the battle, it was what they were saying; these people were speaking about them as if they were the monsters! Antoinette had to make a point to suggest to Helaprosti that they make some kind of public address.

This was gonna get very hairy,very fast...

Their first morphed battle, wow...it was...scary...yeah, that was the word. Scary.

Going into it they had not intention of losing, but naively she thought they would just take a couple hits, fall to the ground a couple times, beat the bad guy and watch him leave with his tail between his legs until next time. But no. Instead, the bad guys walloped them good before going down.

Hands down, they had a long way to go in their training. They needed decisive victories not victories by the skin of their teeth...

Surely enough, they all felt like training, and after calling each other to confirm, they were all back on the Grounds, their safe haven.

On that day, the Keepers focused on learning theirs, as well as each others', weapons. On the following day they concentrated on their individual weapons. On Friday, they worked with more simulations, and on Saturday it was strategy and planning in the Library.

All these events took all day and they could all feel themselves improving, but they still welcomed Sunday with open arms…

The Commons...

He liked watching her dance.

Whenever Antoinette stumbled upon a song she loved, she'd get up and dance uninhibited no matter who was around. She'd try to include him in her dance, but he could never really keep up. Besides, he'd much rather watch her sway rather than intrude on her rhythm.

John smiled to himself in full appreciation of Antoinette grooving to whatever she was listening to on her CD player. When she noticed his eyes upon her, she began to dance more seductively, making her way towards him.

Flashing John a naughty grin, she sat crossways on his lap and tucked one of her earphones in his ear, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

He took the opportunity to let his eyes sweep over the strong features of her face and smiled, bringing her in closer. He kissed his girlfriend again.

His girlfriend...he liked that.

Meanwhile at the Arctic Palace…

"So, Lord gil-Matri, what is our first order of business?" Qiqofu enquired, magically summoning a quill, ink and scroll which all floated in the air ready to take notes.

"We shall approach this with finesse. I know that you are anxious for mayhem, Qiqofu," Ptep replied. Qiqofu grinned to himself, for Ptep was right.

"Then what is your plan, Lord gil-Matri?" Qiqofu asked, curiosity piqued.

"I plan to destroy the Keepers from the inside out. Giniz knows what to do." He and Giniz then exchanged knowing glances before the general left the vicinity.

Monday...

Our five heroes thought it best to drive to school instead of teleport that first day back—for the Mayor encouraged the citizens of Chestnut to start returning to their normal lives.

They didn't want to draw too much attention to themselves. Unfortunately, that little plan didn't work, for they got nothing but eyes as they crossed the parking lot to the school building, and crowds parted like the Red Sea for them in the halls.

Brad was accustomed to feeling like a God on campus, but this was just straight-up weird! The others felt just as uncomfortable.

It was going to be a long day…

Lunch...

"A moment of silence for the students who fell to the hands of those creatures," the principle's voice said over the loudspeaker. The cafeteria fell eerily quiet. It was just too damn creepy.

"God, they're staring at us," Liz whispered to the others at their usual table.

"Shh, show some respect!" a student nearby harshly whispered to her.

"Excuse you?" Liz and Antoinette bellowed in unison.

"Ladies!" Brad interceded with his own loud whisper. The girls fumed but turned back to their table.

"Yeah, thought so," the kid continued. Now it was Brad's turn to blow up.

"Hey, look, buddy! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Brad, dude, relax!" Pete reprimanded, trying to calm him.

"Yeah, man! He's just trying to get a rise out of you," John added as they both tried to hold Brad back.

"No!" Brad barked defiantly, shaking the two off. "We feel bad about what happened too! How dare you fucking think that we don't?" Brad protested, tears welling up in spite of himself.

"Brad!" John called out as he and Pete grabbed onto him.

"Let's get him out of here," Antoinette suggested. But even as the group dragged him out of the cafeteria, Brad still protested, "We tried to stop those creatures! We tried to save those kids! We TRIED, goddammit!"

Once they were fully out of the cafeteria, still in full view of the hushed student body through the plate glass, Brad broke down. He shook the other boys off and punched a nearby wall, leaving a prominent dent. He then leaned against the wall, his body rocking with silent tears.

Liz slid in between Brad and the wall and pulled him into an embrace. Antoinette rested a hand lightly on Brad's arm. The boy opened his arm out to make room for her, and all three stood there, holding each other. Pete rested a comforting hand on Brad's back.

John stood off to the side and glared at the stunned onlookers.

"I'm going outside," John announced after a while and stepped passed them to the school's side doors. The others followed suit, and ended up in the bleachers.

Meanwhile a stunned student body looked on still silent even after the Principle declared the moment of silence over…

After School, Football Field…

"Man, you don't even know how good it is to see you guys!" Brad cheered as he walked over to some of his teammates. "I'm glad to see all of you are okay, despite everything that's been happening," Brad added on a serious note. "Everyone is okay, right?" Brad asked, picking up tense vibes from the guys.

Brad received a chorus of grumbled "yeahs" and "sures" in reply.

The guys looked tentatively at each other as if there was something potentially uncomfortable that needed to be said, but no one was willing to say it. Ten bucks says it has something to do with me, Brad scoffed to himself.

"I hate to have to break it to you, man," one teammate piped up with an exaggerated pained look on his face, "But you're no longer Captain."

And…there goes the other shoe…

"W-what?" Brad sputtered. "Look, fellahs, no matter what, I'm still a member of this team. Nothing's gonna get in the way of that!" Brad delivered pleadingly to anyone in earshot. "I've never let you down before..."

"About that," that guy cut in, placing a hand on Brad's shoulder. Brad scowled at the hand, then back up at the guy. Clearing his throat and removing his hand, the kid continued. "You're not on the team anymore either, man. Sorry."

"The hell you are, Kyle!" Brad roared, and stormed deeper into the field to confront the coach.

"Coach, what's this I hear about me not being on the team anymore? Cause I've worked my butt off for this team, and I was a good Captain, wasn't I, Coach?" Brad argued, trying his best to stay under control.

"Yes, you were," the coach confirmed.

"Well, who's the new Captain?" Brad enquired, breathing heavily now.

"The team decided Kyle was..."

"Kyle?" Brad bellowed. "You made Kyle Captain?" Brad said, trying to keep his voice volume in check.

"I had to do what was best for the team," coach VanGundy calmly reasoned.

"And Kyle is what's best for the team? Kyle, Coach? He couldn't find his way out of a cardboard box, let alone lead a team!" Brad blasted, then calmed himself and continued.

"Well, why am I not even on the team?" Brad asked, holding his downcast head and closing his eyes.

"We were afraid that your new, eh-hem...abilities would jeopardize our eligibility to compete, and that you might pose a danger to the other teams," the coach explained.

Raising exhausted eyes to the coach, Brad rebutted quietly, "Well, unless they replace their players with robots, alien or zombies, they don't have anything to worry about." But it was pointless to argue further, Brad knew. Plus the fight had gone out of him.

He turned to go.

As he walked passed Kyle, he heard him say lamely, "I'm sorry, bro."

Brad didn't know—or care—if Kyle was being sincere, but after a couple of steps, Brad stopped, turned around and replied, "Well, bro, it looks like you finally got what you wanted: to be Captain, and me off the team. Congratulations," and finished it with a bow, then continued off the field.

The coach's voice could be heard shouting after Brad saying, "It was the school board's idea, Brad!" But Brad just raised his helmet and gave it a shake 'goodbye', and let it fall to the turf just before he teleported out.

Back at the Grounds...

"You! You bastard!" Brad seethed, marching up to Helaprosti and grabbing him by his designer white shirt. "Ever since you came along our lives have been shit!" the boy continued and gave Helaprosti a shake. "Now everybody avoids us like the plague!"

The others looked from Brad to Helaprosti and back again, not knowing what to do.

Helaprosti let Brad vent a moment longer before rationalizing, "You are doing to me now what your peers do to you." With that, Brad slowly loosened his grip, realizing how foolish he looked.

"I already told you why you were chosen: for your abilities. I cannot help that your peers react towards you the way they do, for such abilities are uncommon on this planet." Brad calmed down further as Helaprosti's logic sank in.

"Furthermore, none of this was up to me. I am just as much a victim as you," Helaprosti confided, displaying uncertainty only for a brief moment. "You just have to make the best of it."

Helaprosti straightened his shirt, squared his shoulders and stated, "Whining is useless. You're too old for such foolishness. Grow a backbone," then posed to the others, "Now, let's get back to work."

Later…

"Is there a particular reason you're looking at me like that, Antoinette?" Helaprosti posed, locking one of many antique file cabinets in the library, without ever looking up at the girl.

"Well, hello to you, too," Antoinette replied, letting herself in. Yes, she had been staring, but could she really be blamed?

"Could you push that button on the console for me, please?" the young man requested, reshelving some books, back still turned to her.

Obligingly she did as asked and the sturdy-looking canvas screen came to life, displaying the last active view, a huge stream of data.

"You know what? I'm just gonna come right out with it. I think it's royally messed up that you asked me to keep such a big secret. That's not cool," Antoinette stated.

"That's understandable," Helaprosti offered, finally looking at her. He expected such a confrontation eventually. "Sit with me," he requested, gesturing to the chair at the console's desk.

The girl sat, and Helaprosti took his place leaning over her to operate the console.

"Do you see all this?" the boy indicated, touching the slate-like panel directly under the screen.

"What is it?" Antoinette asked looking up at all the free-flowing information.

"This is the Grounds' database, chronicling all the goings-on, as local and mundane as the upkeep of the Grounds itself, to the otherworldly," he explained, navigating the system to display frame after frame of information, and not all of it in English.

"Like the supernatural occurrences of late, such as the recent Haezoh attacks, and your power manifestations," he clarified.

"Why are you telling me all this?" the girl asked shakily, finally looking up at her strange new mentor.

"Because, domma, I am as desperate as you to keep that vision from coming to pass," he supplied. "I trust that you will help me do whatever it takes to deny Ptep a victory. And sadly, Antoinette, it requires the utmost secrecy."

The girl suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"It brings me no joy to burden you like this, but I find in you a kindred spirit, and I cannot do this alone," Helaprosti unloaded, looking the girl squarely in the face. "Please say you will help me, Antoinette."

The girl nodded, looking as if she'd burst into tears.

"Thank you," he delivered, offering a practiced comforting smile. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Friday, After School...

"Johnny, Johnny, wow. How we've grown!" one of John's former friends taunted as they spotted him in the emptying hall. Unfortunately, John had to get past them to get to where he was going.

"Yeah, he dropped us to be a freak of a nature with them!" jerk #2 added.

John was not a freak of nature, nor were his friends. But he'll let that slide, for he already knew they were idiots.

"Move," John demanded.

Raising their hands in mock surrender, they did. But John didn't get more than two steps before the taunting started again.

"I see you finally got with that little black bitch. I bet she gives fantastic..."

John wouldn't let the asshole finish that sentence, burying his fist in the piece of shit's nose.

The other one had jumped on his back, and in moments the kids in the hall were shouting "fight!" which alerted the security guards. By the time they got on the scene, it was an all-out brawl.

So it was back in detention hall again…

"Ah, Mr. Houlihan. I see we're up to our old tricks!" said the proctor who was very familiar with John as he took his usual seat at the back.

"Damn! Nette's gonna kill me!" John muttered mournfully to himself, touching the developing knot on the side of is head.

"Oo, does weettle Johnny fear the wrath of his girlfwend?" the loser whose nose was spared teased.

"One more word about her and your head is going through that desk," John warned which shut the idiot right up.

John rested his cheek on the cold wooden desk and let his arms swing. Back with the losers again.

He sighed and decided to pass the time by people watching. He spotted one dude pick his nose and then wipe that finger on one of the metal legs of his desk. That is just nasty...

He saw his idiot ex-friends shooting spitballs at the unfortunate kids in front of them, then act innocent when they turned around. I can't believe I used to hang out with those guys! Geez, what was I smoking?

And he saw a guy with blue shoulder-length hair, rocking out to whatever was on his CD player, and playing air drums with his drumsticks.

At one point, the blue-haired guy really got into his music. Now John was really curious.

Something told him to get up and sit at the desk next to the boy, and he waited a little before tapping him. The guy jumped.

"Sorry, man," John apologized. "I was just over there wondering what you were rockin' out to."

"You probably wouldn't like it," the boy said.

"Try me," John challenged.

The boy shrugged and replied, "Metallica."

John looked at the kid like he was growing a second head out of his neck.

"Dude, I love Metallica. Who doesn't?"

"You'd be surprised," the boy answered. "Wanna hear?"

"Sure," John agreed. The kid then pulled one side of his huge headphones free of the electric tape John hadn't noticed was holding it together, and offered it to him. The boy then looked slightly embarrassed and explained, "They've been broken for a while now."

"Dude, you need new headphones," John advised, shaking his head before taking the side of the big DJ-issue headphones.

"No way, man! These are my favorite!" the blue-haired boy protested, looking slightly put off. John snorted. So did the boy, then he started the track.

"Yo! 'Enter Sandman! This is my song!" John cheered and they both bobbed their heads in unison. The blue-haired kid proceeded to play one-handed air-drums, while John opted for one-handed air-guitar.

After listening to the song two more times, the blue-haired boy spoke, "Dude, they so need to bring back the 80's."

"Okay, random, but agreed," John nodded.

"I'm Marc, by the way. Marc with a 'C'," the boy introduced, offering his hand for a shake.

"I'm John with an 'H'," John joked, shaking Marc's hand.

The blue-haired boy chuckled, "Dude, that was so lame"

John laughed, releasing the boy's hand, "You're right."

"Eh-hem, gentlemen. Need I remind you, you are in detention?" the proctor snapped.

"Sorry," they both groaned.

Satisfied, the prickly woman returned to her paper.

"So, what are you in for?" John asked.

"Remember that big flaming cock that was spray painted on the side of the principle's car?"

"That was you?" John howled.

"Boys! If I have to tell you again," the proctor interjected.

"Sorry, sorry," Marc hastily offered.

"Dude, that was classic!" one of the ex-friends congratulated. The vandal beamed. John snickered. What? It was funny!

They spent the rest of the time (quietly) talking about music and life. Marc's band and John's girlfriend, until the proctor announced it was time to go.

"Oh, word? I didn't notice!" Marc said.

"Me neither," John admitted.

"Look, you gotta come see us play!" Marc requested, and rummaged through his messenger bag to produce a crunched up flyer. He smoothed it out on the desk and handed it to John. "Bring friends," he encouraged.

John gave the flyer a once-over. "The Poison Runaways," John read to himself. "Sure, I'll be there," he promised, and they went their separate ways.

It wasn't until they had gotten some distance from each other, did John realize that the place Marc's band would be playing at was in the seedier side of town. But a promise was a promise.

He had managed to get Antoinette to come along and the following night they were on their way to see John's new friend's band.

They were just setting up, and when Marc spotted John, he announced, "This song I dedicate to my newest friend John!" and finished it off with a wink before starting.

Marc looked every bit the rock star and proved to be a very passionate performer.

The Poison Runaways rocked the house with their haunting blend of metal and classical, then finished the night with a goth-metal cover of Def Leppard's "Love Bites", and when they were done, Marc came off the stage to greet them. Now that Marc was close up, John could see his eyebrow piercing and his black eyeliner. Come to think of it, he looked kind of girlish!

"Hey! You actually showed!" the rocker cheered. "And this must be Antoinette!" he said. "You're right, she is a cutie!"

"Why, thank you!" the girl accepted, beaming.

"Hey Marc, I'da sworn you were the drummer!" John commented.

"If I weren't singing, I'd be drummer, it's true," Marc admitted. But it was just as well, because the boy had some pipes on him!

"No offense, Marc, but your bandmates kinda weird me out," Antoinette cut in, as she observed the zombie-like movements of the band mates as they packed up.

Marc pinched his thumb and forefinger together, placed them to the corner of his mouth and made a sipping noise and explained, "They're stoners, but they play like the devil."

"You know, you should meet my other friends," John realized.

"Cool," Marc agreed.

"When's your lunch period?" John enquired.

"Fifth."

"Oh, wouldn't want you to miss class or anything," Antoinette noted.

Marc brushed it off. "No worries, cutie! I do nothing but cut." Noting the somewhat surprised look on her face, he added, "Don't be so shocked, sweetness. I'm only sticking around until my band gets signed, then we are so blowing outta here. I hear the music scene rocks in Japan."

Antoinette decided not to press the issue. "I think you'd do awesome. Your sound kinda puts me in the mind of Nightwish or Moon HeeJun," Antoinette encouraged.

"Oh my God, does Moon HeeJun rock! I have his first album!" Marc beamed.

"Me too!" Antoinette cheered.

"But you know whose first album really rocked? Eve!" Marc conversed.

"Oh my God. 'Agape' was my joint!" Antoinette squealed, and they both began singing the chorus—loudly.

John looked on pleased with himself. Apparently Antoinette wasn't the only person with a talent for bringing people together.

"Does this mean you forgive me?" John inserted.

"I'll think about it," Antoinette pouted playfully.

The three found seats and chatted about music for a little while longer until it was time for the couple to depart. As a parting gift Marc gave them both a copy of his demo CD.

For John, school just became a bit more bearable.

Wednesday Morning, the Grounds…

"John! So glad I caught you!" Helaprosti chirped, noticing when the Blue Keeper tried to sneak by him.

The other boy stopped, evidently annoyed that he had been discovered. Helaprosti continued to tinker with the Locale Settings for the Training Hall, toggling between snowy mountain peaks, to vast planes, to dense woods.

"You wouldn't be trying to get out of orientation this afternoon, would you?" the white-clad youth asserted, finally looking to his pupil still rooted in the doorway.

"No way," John mumbled, averting his eyes. Who ever heard of after-the-fact orientations?

"That's good to hear, because it just won't do to have technology you can't use, and weapons you can't summon because you couldn't recall where everything is," Helaprosti stated slyly. "That would be most—humbling, wouldn't you agree?"

"I know how to call my weapons, but whatever," John replied, slowly backing out of the doorway.

"But of course it's more complex than that so I should expect to see you this afternoon then, correct?"

"Yeah, yeah," John affirmed unconvincingly, making his way to the stairs.

"And should you fail to turn up, what should be done about you?" the White Keeper challenged.

This made the other pause and look back. Was that a threat?

Looking back at John was a pair of cold hazel eyes. This guy more than gave him the creeps, he was beginning to piss him off.

"Be here this afternoon, Blue Keeper. Not for my sake, but for your team's," Helaprosti dismissed, and John gladly let himself out.

Fletcher High School...

John had never been that into school. He wasn't the studious type…not like Antoinette. So when Marc dropped him an instant message during seventh period asking him if he wanted to chill, John agreed, asking for a pass to the bathroom and never coming back.

So here he was, sitting with Marc on the deserted bleachers, somehow finding themselves talking about super-heroes, of all things…

"If you weren't already a superhero, which one would you wanna be like?" Marc asked, as if the notion that John being the Blue Keeper wasn't so shocking. It was a nice change…

"I don't know about be like, but I think Batman is cool. He's got his own demons and secrets to deal with, yet he keeps on fighting the good fight, you know? He takes the law into his own hands and he's got the means to execute," John offered.

"I'd have to go with Rogue," Marc replied.

"But Rogue's a chick!" John blurted.

"You figure that one out all by yourself there, Sherlock?" Marc snorted. "Her gender is beside the point. It's her powers I'm most interested in. She can take on anyone's powers and use them. That's power."

The subject was hitting uncomfortably close to home.

"What's wrong?" Marc asked.

"Nothing, just this whole superhero talk, you know?" John offered, hoping the subject would be dropped.

"Oh, my bad," Marc apologized, and then they fell into silence.

John took this opportunity to let his mind wander.

It was cold but he didn't mind. It was nice. Exactly the kind of moment he should be spending with Antoinette…

John then looked back over to Marc to catch the boy gazing at him. The other boy didn't immediately look away once he was caught, and it took him a few seconds to speak.

"Sorry…look, I'm gonna go," Marc finally announced, abruptly standing up and stepping out of the bleachers. John was a bit baffled.

"Marc, you don't gotta leave," John assured, but the other boy had already took off running.

Two Weeks Later…

In the short time they had known him, Marc had become a common—but not exactly consistent—fixture at the five's usual lunch table. It was so refreshing to have someone like Marc who was unfazed by their strange circumstance. And he was a cool guy to be around, to boot!

He had his trademark DJ-issue jumbo headphones on and was bobbing away as he made his way towards them. When he got near enough they could hear what he was singing…

Your man, he told me that he's tired of the shit you got,

He took one hit and said my good shit keeps him coming back,

He likes it tight and says your shit is just a little slack,

Girl, don't get mad at me, I'm only tellin' you the facts...

With every passing line he'd get more into the song, to the point where he jumped on the table, dancing like the king of the dancehall.

I got your man and you can't do anything—about it,

You may think he is coming back to you but—I doubt it,

Don't make no sense you even call him and try to—work out it,

'Cause I got your man and you can't do anything—about it...

The five, especially Antoinette, were positively dying of laughter. They had to practically wrestle him down from the table! Truth be told, Antoinette was tempted to get up there and join him!

Once down, Marc smiled broadly, giving Antoinette a twirl and a peck on the cheek. Silly boy, she thought.

After School, St. Arch Residence...

Brad had just begun to accept that he was no longer apart of the team and was trying to see it as a blessing in disguise, for at least now he could finish giving his car that upgrade he'd been putting off, when, standing at the end of his driveway, was the one person he tolerated only barely.

"What do you want, Kyle?" Brad asked, though he had a pretty good idea. Bringing his attention back to his car's engine his persisted, "Well?"

"Look man, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about everything. It wasn't my idea to take you off the team," Kyle began.

"Right. Nobody thought of the idea, but everybody sure agreed to it," Brad muttered. "Cut the crap, Kyle. What do you want?"

Looking a bit ashamed and plenty desperate, Kyle responded, "Brad man, I need help. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing..."

"And this has what to do with me?" Brad cut in impatiently as he wiped his hands clean on a towel.

"Brad," Kyle began, swallowing hard. "We need you back on the team—bad."

Brad paused.

He then looked Kyle straight in the eyes and said, "You're Captain now. This is your problem. Deal with it," and continued with his car, not seeing—or caring to see—the hurt yet unsurprised look pass over Kyle's face.

The visitor then quietly backed away and left.

Meanwhile…

ZurieLockes: A yo John! where u at?

BluMoon: Park...Thx 4 running away, btw! '(;_;)'

ZurieLockes: sry… '(-.-)' going 4 a ride. coming with?

BluMoon: Sure...

ZurieLockes: pick u up where?

BluMoon: Intermediate Hts. bet. Dale and Gooding. U kno where at?

ZurieLockes: Yup. C u in a few. Cio. '(O_~)'

John shook his head with amusement as he put away his cell phone and teleported to his house.

It had been a while since his initial steps toward striking out on his own, and John decided it was high time he finished what he started.

"Oo, my goodness! When did you get here?" the woman—who was perpetually in a state of undress—exclaimed, holding her hand over her cleavage.

"Just now," John replied absently. He was already halfway up the stairs.

"What I tell ya? The little pansy's crawling back!" Dan mocked as he leapt from his post on the sofabed and made his way towards the stairs.

"Back up, old man. Thanks," John interceded and continued his climb.

"Still gotta get used to that poof-thing you guys do," the woman-thing confessed with a nervous chuckle. John paused. Oh, isn't that cute! She's talking about teleportation! he rationalized.

"Moving on," John declared aloud and continued to his room.

John reached for his stash of cash and few more personal effects and was galloping back down the stairs in moments.

"Where will you go?" the female asked, tying closed the robe that it finally occurred to her to put on. If John cared enough he might've been touched by the concern the she-person displayed—but he didn't.

"To a friend's," he answered absently and had his hand on the doorknob when he heard Dan remark, "Probably to his boyfriend's house."

And you wonder why I'm leaving.

John turned around and walked passed his father to address the living blow-up doll and said to her, "What's your excuse for still being here, hmm? Do you think that man loves you?" he challenged, pointing backwards in his father's general direction.

"Woman, he doesn't even know the meaning of the word! Case in point; look at how he treats his own flesh and blood!" John said, pointing to himself. John didn't see the man flinch.

"Look at how he treats his own house!" he continued accusingly, finally looking at his father. "But if you guys really think that you can succeed where he and mom failed, then much power to you," he said, dropping the volume of his voice down to normal.

There was a pause before a horn could be heard outside the door. He stepped passed the stunned pair and opened the door to see Marc on his red motorcycle. John's lips curled into a smirk, his "parents" already forgotten.

Marc flipped up the visor on his helmet.

"You know I could just teleport," John joked.

"John, you spoil the moment," Marc shook his head. "Just hop on, smart-ass!" he chided and tossed John a helmet and in moments they were gone…

Marc brought the motorcycle to a stop at a gated off area. "Dude, you're so gonna hafta teach me how to do that," Marc marveled as they dismounted.

"Do what?" John asked, taking stock of his new surroundings.

"Teleport, silly," Marc replied, pocketing his keys and pushing open the gates.

"It's kind of a complex process," John admitted. Marc pouted. John smirked.

"Where are we?" John asked as they passed through a circular doorway.

"My favorite place on the planet." John looked around, marking the stone flooring, the trees and brightly-colored flowers of the indoor garden, the stone benches and the small wooden bridge arched over a little lake of live colorful fish.

"Which is?" John pressed.

"The Chinese Pavilion. It could be winter outside, but it'll always be spring in here," Marc finished with a tranquil smile as he unzipped his leather jacket.

Wow. John had to make it a point to take Antoinette here one day!

John spotted an orange flower and picked it, and then for the hell of it offered it to Marc, who took it with a pleasant smile and attempted unsuccessfully to put it in his hair.

"Here, let me," John offered and proceeded to fasten the flower expertly just above Marc's ear—a gesture he'd perfected with Antoinette.

"You're a sweetheart, you know that? No wonder Antoinette is so head over heels for you," Marc commented with a blush.

"You're welcome?" John beamed. 'Sweetheart' was not exactly the term associated with him.

"I have some news," Marc announced after they had been walking quietly for some time.

"Shoot," John encouraged.

"Me and the band are going to San Angeles to participate in the Battle of the Bands next week. I just might move down there," Marc finished, averting his eyes.

"You don't seem too happy," John observed with some concern.

"I was thrilled to be leaving this sleepy town weeks ago, but then I had to go and meet you and now I'm gonna miss this place." He looked up at John, hope shining in his eyes.

"We'll miss you too. I'm sure you'll kick ass..." John encouraged, but the rest of his sentence hung in the air, for Marc had turned away from him and was walking a little ahead.

"Dude, wait up!" John said, jogging to keep up, finally catching up to him on the bridge. Marc stopped and searched John's eyes before speaking.

"I..." Marc cleared his throat. "I, um…I like you, John," he finally blurted. John raised an eyebrow at this.

Marc began fidgeting. "I...I just thought I'd let you know, since, you know, I'm leaving and all." Marc was now nervously rambling and avoiding John's face altogether.

"Marc, calm…" John said trying to put the nervous boy at ease, but Marc kept going.

"And just in case you already knew, it wouldn't make any sense to deny it, you know?"

"Yo, breathe!" John commanded, fighting off the urge to burst out laughing as he held Marc by the shoulders.

Marc finally met John's eyes. "Marc, I'm not gonna beat you up or anything, geez!" and shook his head, still smiling, then put a reassuring arm around Marc's shoulders and continued over the bridge.

"So, um, can I ask you a favor?" Marc began.

"So long as it's nothing kinky," John joked, which earned him a playful jab to the ribs.

"Could you help me move my stuff? It's not too much but some of it's heavy," Marc elaborated.

"I should've known you only wanted me for my muscles," John delivered with a smirk, to which Marc replied with a raspberry.

Marc smiled and said, "Antoinette doesn't know how lucky she is." John smiled back—then got that tell-tale buzzing between his ears.

"Yo, John! You busy?" the Blue Keeper received.

"Wussup, Brad?" John consented aloud.

"Oh, nothing, just going to kick some zombie ass and thought you'd like to join," Brad replied good-naturedly.

John smirked. "Name the place."

"Alphabet Village. Be there or be square," Brad informed, then closed the transmission. John shook his head.

"Duty calls?" Marc assessed with understanding.

"Afraid so," the teen hero confirmed.

"Come back in one piece, handsome," the slender boy requested sweetly. John smiled and then teleported out…

Alphabet Village. It's been a while. It sucked for John to see it get trashed like this. It was one of the last cool places left in Chestnut!

The others were already morphed. And there it was. The monster responsible. They would've laughed if the situation weren't so dire, for the creature looked absolutely ridiculous; so like a guy in a rubber suit.

"A little early for Halloween, isn't it?" Pete pointed out.

"Bad timing, Pete. Bad timing," Brad stated. He then conjured his sword and immediately put it in rifle mode. "Let's make quick work of this freak,"

"Agreed," Liz conceded. The others readied their weapons as well. Brad stepped out in front and fired a volley of standard bullets, stunning the ridiculous-looking monster, and immediately John and Pete rushed the monster, impaling it with their respective weapons. They then moved out of the way to let the girls do their thing.

Liz and Antoinette stood with their hands joined. From them formed a small force field about the size of a tennis ball, encircled with crystallized ice and electricity. The force field grew until it was about seven feet in height. The girls then launched it at the stupid-looking creature. The force field enveloped the monster and started to shrink around it, encasing it in about an inch of electrified ice. The monster was now literally frozen in place.

The final wave went to Brad and Helaprosti. Brad transformed his weapon back to Sword Mode and Helaprosti ignited his blade. They both rushed their foe, chopping it into chunks and stood back as the pieces fell.

The six regrouped. "Let's head back to the Grounds," Brad announced…but then something caught their eye; the pieces started to move—and then pull themselves back together! The monster was back on its feet, only this time where he had been separated could easily be seen.

"What the...?" Brad gaped.

"You've got to be kidding me," Pete commented.

The monster then hugged itself and hunched itself over, and from its spine popped fleshy strips that laced their way over the creature's limbs and torso, forming an armor of sorts and on its head appeared a metallic helmet and his hands turned to two huge maces. The creature then opened up his arms, sending a strange energy in all directions from its chest. The monster definitely looked more fearsome now...

The monster then slammed his mace fists into the ground, causing the earth to quake and crack, resulting in our six heroes sprawled out on the ground, bodies reverberating from the shock. The creature then waved its arms which caused a gust of wind to sweep the Rangers high into the air. It then brought the wind down like a sledge hammer upon them, slamming our six heroes down to the asphalt.

The assault didn't stop there. The pressure from its wind began to crush the Rangers into the cement—and just when they felt as though they'd be crushed to death the pressure eased!

They weren't ungrateful for the change in events, but they were definitely suspicious. The colorful warriors cautiously got to their feet.

"Gah!" Brad roared, favoring his leg. "This ends now!" Liz needed no other cue. She formed a force field around herself and her compatriots while Brad turned back to rifle mode.

"This would be the perfect time to pool our energies," Helaprosti suggested.

"My thoughts exactly," Brad concurred mostly to himself. "Let's combine our weapons!" Brad commanded.

Everyone procured their weapons except for John, who looked on baffled.

"What are you talking about?" he inquired.

"Well, John. When you were out getting distracted, we were actually training," Helaprosti retorted as the other started fitting their now-transformed blades to Brad's rifle.

"Fuck you, Pross!" the Blue Keeper spat with contempt.

"Would you guys stop bickering and assemble the damn weapons already so I can drop my arms, please?" Liz cut in impatiently.

John, not knowing what to do, stood aside as the other contributed their weapons to the larger weapon. Liz dropped the force field and transformed her staff, shortening it, hallowing it out and making it rounder, then attached it to the bottom of the weapon, which now favored a bazooka.

The five contributing Keepers stood in a formation in order to heft the bazooka and aimed it at the now-imposing monster.

"Fire!" they all ordered as they shot forth an energy orb the size of a grapefruit towards the creature.

Their weapon was incomplete but it packed a decent punch, blasting the monster satisfyingly to smithereens.

"What the hell was that all about?" Brad wondered.

The Following Day…

Our heroes never did get used to the feeling they got walking down their school's halls—the one that let you know you were being stared at from behind, the front and the sides as well—but they soon came to realize that the whole ordeal was more bearable if they traveled in a group.

So three in a row, Antoinette, Liz and Pete walked down the hall, trying to ignore the potent awkwardness as they watched the student body part for them and stick themselves against the walls.

But just as unpleasant was the occasional human blockade…from none other than John's former friends, no less.

"Well, well, well. What have we here? The Parade of Freaks," one smartass commented.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," Pete offered with a touch of apprehension, all things considered.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you little spick," the other jerk chimed in. "Powers or not, I could still stomp your little Hebrew ass into the ground,"

"Hey, watch your mouth," Liz snapped, always quick to defend one of her oldest friends.

"Is that a threat, Chaquita Banana?" he rebutted.

"You know, I don't need my powers to smack the shit out of you," Liz replied.

"Now everybody, do you hear what she said?" the other posed to the few stragglers.

"But isn't that interesting," moron #2 chimed. "Three of you and not a man in sight! Where's Brad the ape and John-John?" Pete had to be held back.

"Yeah, Condeleezza. It's 3pm. Do you know where your boyfriend is?" moron #1 jabbed. Antoinette bristled. "Oh, I know! I saw him with that pretty little homo at sixth period cutting through the football field. So I guess the Jungle Fever has passed, huh?" The girl's nose flared and she clenched her teeth, but kept her composure.

"What, no neck-roll? No foot-stomp?" he pressed. But these two must've known that they were skating on really thin ice right about then because she was a fireball even before the Power, so a change in tone was in order.

"Look, I'm just saying, maybe you should keep a better eye on your boyfriend, or your boyfriend's gonna find a boyfriend, dig?"

Thing was, as nasty as these guys were being, Antoinette had to admit she had been thinking similar thoughts, and wasn't happy to hear it out loud from someone else.

"You know what's really funny about this whole thing?" Liz interjected, ever-sensitive to Antoinette's moods. "You guys are still single, and now I see why! No girl or guy would put up with you. But you two suit each other just fine. So just confess your feeling for each other and get out of our faces!" Then Liz dragged the others away from those creeps and the gawking stragglers, and off of the premises.

Once they were far enough from the school, Liz broke the silence, assuring Antoinette, "He's nuts about you, mija. Everybody knows that."

Antoinette shook her head and acknowledged, "But that doesn't mean he won't break my heart."

Meanwhile…

The sunlight shown through the apartment's only window. They both sat on the floor of Marc's near-barren studio apartment. His trunk was packed and pushed up against a wall and now they were just relaxing.

John sat cross-legged, thoughtlessly strumming on the guitar Marc left out for him. Marc began to hum. John strummed to match.

"When you make love, do you look in the mirror," Marc sang softly.

"Who do you think of, does he look like me," Marc continued, putting more feeling behind his voice.

"Do you tell lies, and say that it's forever,

Do you think twice, or just touch and see." John closed his eyes and played along with more feeling.

"I don't wanna touch you too much baby,

'Cause making love to you might drive me crazy,

I know you think that love is the way you make it,

But I don't wanna be there when you decide to break it,

Love bites, love bleeds," John sung along.

"It's bringin' me to my knees," Marc continued by himself.

"Love lives, love dies," they both sang.

"It's no surprise," Marc sang.

"Love begs, love pleads," they duetted.

"It's what I need," Marc whispered.

John was only vaguely aware that Marc had stopped singing; John's eyes were still closed and he was in a zone. The next thing he knew, there was a light pressure on his hands forcing him to stop playing. John opened his eyes and took note of Marc's slightly parted lips and bedroom eyes.

John allowed Marc to put aside the guitar while he straightened his legs. His heartbeat quickened as Marc closed the distance between them. They were mere centimeters away from each other now. John eyed Marc's full lips with interest.

Something was coming over John that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but whatever it was, he saw no reason to fight it.

John slipped his hands under Marc's faded red t-shirt and wrapped his arms around his back before pulling the well-worn piece of cotton off of the smaller boy's body. Marc then took his sweet time unbuttoning John's shirt and then brushed it off of his shoulders.

Marc had straddled John's hips and lightly pushed the bigger boy down to the floor.

With his hands pressed against John's pecks, Marc asked seductively, "What would you like me to do?" the subdued boy breathed heavily as he looked up into Marc's pretty face. He then leaned back, tracing his hands down John's abs, then asked, "Do you want me to touch you?" and gyrated slightly which was maddening against John's hardening state. He groaned and squeezed his eyes closed.

"Look at me," Marc commanded. John obeyed. The slender boy raked a hand through his own shoulder-length hair and lightly bit the forefinger of his other hand before speaking again, "Tell me how badly you want me," then gyrated more suggestively and demanded, "Tell me."

What did Marc want him to say? That from the very beginning, he found himself strangely attracted to the boy? That knowing Marc had a crush on him didn't freak him out? That the thought of kissing him didn't suck?

Or did that beautiful boy want him to admit that if something wasn't done about his raging hard-on, he'd go berserk?

"God, what do you want from me?" John groaned.

Marc grinned wickedly. Sliding down to undo John's belt buckle, the bold boy insisted, "Clear your mind of Antoinette. I don't want you thinking about her when I'm with you."

He unzipped John's jeans, and pulled them down off of his hips and declare, "I want you all to myself; mind body and soul..."

Marc began kissing down John's abdomen, his hair tickling the muscular boy's skin as he continued ever southward…

John was tempted to grab a fistful of that azure hair and push the boy's head down…

He could feel Marc's teeth on the waistband of his boxers, teasing him with warm breath…So close…

Jesus…

John felt like he would go insane…but what the hell was he doing?

"Look, I don't think I should be doing this," John declared in a burst of sanity—and a good helping of guilt. "I mean, I like you and all…" he blurted as he screwed his eyes shut, trying not to think about his boner.

"It's okay," Marc reassured, taking his sweet time removing himself from the larger boy. "I got ahead of myself," he finished with a disappointed sigh.

"I'm sorry," Johninsisted, readjusting his clothes.

Marc shook his head, "God, you're cute. If only I had met you first."

"Look, I, uh, I gotta go," John announced, fumbling with his sneakers.

"You sure you don't want me to help you with that?" Marc asked, chuckling at the poor boy's pants. John groaned. Thank God for baggy jeans and teleportation.

"Thanks for helping me pack," Marc offered sweetly.

"Uh, no worries," John hastily replied, and was out the door in a flash.

That Evening, the Grounds…

"Have a seat, John," Helaprosti requested, gesturing to the Conference Table. The Library was shaping up to be John's least favorite place in the Grounds.

"Is this about me missing Orientation…?" he began as he took his seat, but Helaprosti waved him off.

"Stop, Blue Keeper. That is all past," he insisted, then sat across from his pupil. "I detect that you haven't been coping well with your new responsibilities. That is most unfortunate, but I can't afford to lavish you with patience."

John recoiled a bit. "Then why the hell did you call me in here?" the teen snapped, popping out of his seat.

"Sit, John. Please," the mentor requested. Begrudgingly, John complied.

"I'm not going to scold you. You're not a baby and I'm not your father," the White Keeper began. "But I am concerned about you."

John balked. "What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this, but you are quite a talented Keeper. That is the problem," Helaprosti continued.

"Me," the teen scoffed in disbelief. "Not Brad." Helaprosti snorted.

"You, John. And if you do not extend yourself to the team, someone else will reach out to you." The White Keeper sighed. "Look, I know I didn't give you plenty of time to absorb with exactly is expected of you—of all of you. But we landed on Ptep's radar far sooner than I'd like. I do not want to pressure you, but I must. John, I cannot replace you. I cannot replace any of you. We are stuck with each other, like it or not. So if you are going to be here, be here."

"Whoa, Pross…what if you're wrong?" John replied, overwhelmed.

"I can't afford to be wrong, John," Helaprosti confessed. "So I need you to work with me, not against me—no matter your feelings about me." John flinched.

"Now, about that Orientation," Helaprosti reasserted with a smile.

Later…

It was very rare that Helaprosti even felt the need to sleep, so he hardly visited his own quarters. But had it not been for this atypical need to rest, he would not have heard his dommita [little sister] weeping in her room.

He didn't need special abilities to figure out the reason. Those were the tears of a conflicted heart. But as close as he felt to her, he still wasn't certain if he was the right one to comfort her.

Still, he was no stranger to the pangs of love, so he decided he would try. But upon arrival, he heard a second voice. It seemed she already had company…

"Am I being stupid? I mean, I could be reading too much into this," he heard her say.

"Come here, mama. It's okay," he heard the Pink Keeper console.

"Maybe if I weren't so swept up in this whole public address thing. Maybe if I were more interesting, you know? Sexier, like you. I don't know…What's wrong with me?" Antoinette lamented.

"Mommy, stop," Liz reprimanded.

"Am I not pretty enough?"

"Sweety, stop it! He knew exactly what he was getting when he got with you, and you know what, baby? I never heard him once complain. Honey, he loves you. I know it."

"I wish I could be as sure as you," the disheartened girl confessed.

"Oh, sweety," Liz relented. "Come to bed."

Helaprosti didn't have to hear much more.

Antoinette's journey had just begun which would test her heart and her mind, and for that he'll be there for her.

But tonight was for rest.

A Few Days Later...

BluMoon: Hey, blueberry-head! I'm at the skool. Where r u?

ZurieLockes: Basement. I'll let u in.

John then closed his phone and waited. Shortly after, Marc's dyed head could be seen poking out of one of the narrow lower windows.

"Come around to the side," the boy instructed and let John in.

Down below was as dank and uninviting as a basement you weren't supposed to be in ever could be. "You said you had something for me?" the bigger youth reminded, trying to figure out what that smell was.

"Yeah, a parting gift," Marc confirmed.

Marc gazed upon John tenderly, then his features shifted to mischievous, sporting a smirk as he gently but insistently pushed John backwards into the janitor's closet whose door was conveniently open. "I have plans for you, John," the boy stated.

Marc's eyes seemed to glisten as he pulled the door closed and flipped off the light switch.

Those eyes...what was up with those eyes? Even though the closet was now dark, John could swear that Marc's eyes were…glowing. Glowing golden eyes...

John stood transfixed as Marc approached him and rested a hand lightly against his face. Then something occurred to him, and he had to smirk. "I guess I gotta hand it to you, I shoulda seen this coming," John reasoned, trying to keep things light despite how awkward this was getting.

"You kinda did walk into it," Marc concurred softly, and then leaned up to place a light kiss on the other's lips. John tensed, but Marc persisted with soft kiss after soft kiss until the taller boy relented.

Okay, John… the bigger boy silently scolded himself as Marc snaked his slender arms around his neck.

…You can back up now, John urged himself as Marc deepened his kisses.

Any time now, the Blue Keeper silently pleaded, but to no avail; his feet were rooted in place.

Marc then moved his lips to John's neck, and proceeded to kiss it softly, at points using his tongue. Uh…shit…

"You're trying to turn me out, aren't you?" John finally realized aloud, yielding completely.

"Exactly," Marc confirmed. Then John felt teeth, and he winced and closed his eyes against the piercing, sweet pain. Fuck...

John was beginning to feel lightheaded. He couldn't breathe and his whole skin felt hot. He was slipping out of consciousness. But before he completely slipped out, he saw those spellbinding golden eyes looking at him…

"Lotet ja jwo tuciz hirguturovet icjurudijoshara." We look forward to the final sacrifice.

John recognized this place.

He was kneeling again in that strange dark room, chanting those strange words.

John feared what he knew to come next.

Just then he felt warm breath tickle his ear, and a whispered voice that urged, "Follow me."

Someone had taken him by the hand and was leading him to that chapel.

As dread-filled as John was, why wasn't he resisting?

Was he still not in his own body?

And he didn't ever recall there being another person in that room...

He was then put in front of the mirror...God, no...

The person walked around him, finally coming to a stop behind him.

The person then removed the hood from John's head and he could see himself clearly.

I could see...myself? What...?

He could also see the person behind him over his shoulders.

It took John a moment to process the face. Marc?

Marc proceeded to remove John's cloak and the shirt beneath.

John could feel, as well as see Marc piercing eyes upon him as his hands roved over John's exposed body...

Then felt Marc's lips as he kissed John's shoulder, moving to his neck and finally settling at his earlobe, all the while caressing John's chest.

John closed his eyes and let Marc's kisses envelope him...

He let a moan escape his lips...Marc chuckled.

Marc turned John's face towards him and ensnared John's mouth in a possessive kiss, then dragged his nails across John's bare chest.

After a long while, Marc released John's lips and offered, "Let me help you."

John was mesmerized by those golden glowing eyes and felt something pointy being traced down his torso...The Knife!

John then felt something sharp being thrust deep into his gut...How could he have forgotten about the knife?

The metallic taste of his own blood flooded his mouth...

He looked upon Marc with wide eyes...His legs became wobbly...

One last time, Marc's lips met with his, then released him to let him fall...

But just before John hit the ground, he heard Marc say,

"Welcome to the dark side."

John knew no more...

John woke with a start in a cold sweat and felt the bandage on his neck realizing that he was back at the Grounds. What the fuck happened? In that closet, what the fuck happened? John's mind started to race as he tried to piece everything together.

He remembered Marc kissing him. He remembered Marc's lips on his neck...how good it felt...John shook his head. Get back on track, John, he scolded himself. He remembered teeth...Teeth? John felt his neck again.

Had he been bitten? Had Marc bitten him?

Shaking off what lingered of the dream, John made his way from the Infirmary to the Shower Room. He stood over the sink for a second before turning on the water, then let it run a little before taking the cold water and splashing his face.

Marc has some real explaining to do...

John coughed and absently wiped his mouth with his hand, then reached over to turn the water off, but he stopped short—for the hand that wiped his mouth came away bloody!

"Shit!" John gasped, horrified. His eyes then shot up to the mirror, and the moment he caught a glimpse of his eyes, the mirror broke. "What the fuck is happening to me?"

John was beyond freaked out. He recoiled, slowly backing out of the shower room. He let his feet carry him away and soon found himself at Antoinette's quarters where he hoped she would be. He was shaken. He just needed some reassurance…

After finding John in that basement, Antoinette had taken it upon herself to stay with him, not asking her father's permission, per se, but respecting him enough to at least tell him her plans. And so here she was, in her Quarters trying to sleep but failing.

Her thoughts were preoccupied with worry over John and his current state and her own anxiety of her impending public address.

"Antoinette…"

She heard her name and turned towards the sound. The voice came from the dark figure standing at her door and it took her a moment to place the whispered voice. "John! You're feeling better!" She received no reply.

Antoinette sat up in her bed. "John?"

He came towards her and sat on the edge of her bed. In the faint moonlight, she could make out that John was distressed. She wanted nothing more than to comfort him.

"What's wrong, baby?" Come to me, Antoinette requested as she slipped her arms around his neck and gently pulled him close.

"Antoinette, I..." John breathed as he rested his hands on her waist and looked into her eyes. Antoinette slid her hands down to rest on his bare chest.

"Yes?" the girl whispered as she returned his gaze.

"I need..." John began as he lightly touched her neck, eyeing his hand's progress, and brushed his girlfriend's nightshirt from one shoulder, revealing more of her neck and the tops of her bosom.

He drew her in closer, eyeing at the smooth skin and soft lips. God, she had never looked more striking…

Antoinette's heart was pounding in her chest. God, the way he was looking at her! Like she was the most desirable thing in the world. It made her feel so sexy. The sensation was positively…intoxicating…

John then leaned in to kiss her and she savored the sensation; it had definitely been a while.

He then broke the kiss and looked at her again before sliding behind her. The boy then took her by the hips and brought her in, and began softly kissing her neck…

The girl closed her eyes as her boyfriend's hand slid under her nightshirt and rested on her stomach.

And then it occurred to her; this may actually happen. Was she ready?

Then she realized, as John's hand roamed, that the answer was most glaringly—no.

No, she wasn't ready.

God…

But if she wasn't ready, why did those lips assaulting her neck, the hands cupping her breasts, and the firmness she was pressed up against feel so damn good?

She didn't want to think for once. She just wanted to bask in how this was making her feel.

God, John…Do. Something!

Antoinette sighed…

There it was.

Those tell-tale tremors under his lips, the pulsing of those vital veins just beneath her skin…

~She's all yours~a voice in his head pointed out. ~Take her~

God, she felt so good…

He slid one hand slowly downward, beneath all the cloth. She gasped and tensed against his unwavering touch, but soon relaxed, arching her back into him letting his fingers do as they pleased.

"Uh…John," she moaned, throwing her head back—exposing more of her neck.

~Hear how she calls for you…do not disappoint her~ the voice urged.

The boy's gums began to throb.

~You need her…take her!~it goaded.

John disengaged his hands and thrust her into him until she was practically in his lap, and held her firmly against him so that neither could mistake what was strained against his slacks. He then widened his mouth against her neck. ~Just begging to be penetrated~the voice declared.

"Oh, God…John…" the girl gasped, reaching behind her to rake her fingers through his hair.

But then he opened his eyes as if coming out of a fog, and hastily withdrew. He suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Concerned, Antoinette turned to face her boyfriend.

"Baby, what's wrong?" she posed gently as she passed her hands over his flushed face, then whispered, "Talk to me."

He hadn't even realized that he had been squeezing his eyes shut until her fingers passed over his eyelids.

The fingers tickling the back of his neck were soothing and soon he let his eyes reopen. And looking back at him was a pair of loving brown eyes.

You are so beautiful…

He let his gaze travel down, along her neck and finally settling on that exposed flesh. He brushed the barely-there nightshirt even further off her shoulders and imagined taking one of those perfect little orbs into his mouth…

~Devour her~the voice came again.

John lowered trembling lips to the newly exposed skin, but before they could make contact, he gasped, "I need air," and backed away, looking spooked.

Before Antoinette could make a move towards him, he had teleported out, leaving her baffled, even more concerned—and feeling totally exposed…

At the Chinese Pavilian…

"What the fuck was that?" John demanded as he tried to gather his bearings. The air conditioning made the tiles under John's bare feet cold.

He let himself slump into the stone bench, and stared off into the lake…

He tried to shake off the eerie feeling that enveloped his senses. He shook at the realization of what he wanted to do to Antoinette. What he needed to do.

What he needed to do...

Where'd that come from? Need...

What did he need? He was scaring himself. Oh God, what was happening to him?

"Miss me?" asked a voice not too far away from him. John looked up to see that it was Marc. He was somehow the source of all this! John couldn't figure out how, but that had to be it!

John leapt up from his seat in a rage and punched the newcomer. Marc landed hard on his hands and knees, but was surprisingly silent. "What the fuck did you do to me?" John seethed. He couldn't see Marc's face passed all that hair, but Marc was noticeably shaking. Other than that, he didn't move.

Despite himself John was getting concerned, and was torn between helping the blue-haired boy up and leaving him there. But the part of John that wanted to help won.

John bent down and picked the limp boy up by the upper-arms. Marc flinched and looked upon John with a glint of fear in his eyes. John didn't like it. Didn't he promise Marc he wasn't going to hurt him?

He also noticed that he had busted the boy's lip.

"I'm sorry, man," John apologized. Truth be told, he really did miss him.

The larger boy wiped the blood trailing from the boy's lip ruefully yet noted with amazement how the swelling of Marc's lips made them look even more fascinating.

John licked his thumb.

Despite the fact that he had brushed away that first little rivulet, more still trickled down.

What a waste, John thought as he leaned into the slender boy and trailed the blood back up to Marc's lips with the tip of his tongue.

The smaller boy was panting now, looking up at John uneasily. Why did he find that so damn hot?

The bigger boy now had Marc by the lips, kissing them mercilessly. He ignored that tiny little voice inside that was screaming at him that this was very, very wrong, and focused on the feel and taste of Marc's usually-willing mouth.

Marc was resisting, pushing John back, and John countered by pulling the other closer still.

He ignored the voice telling him to stop, and instead listened to the sound of Marc's whimpers turning to moans.

John then bit down on the other's already cut lip, kissing away the fresh flow of metallic-sweet.

Marc was yielding now, choosing to snake his arms around John's bare back.

"Mmm..." Marc moaned in his mouth.

God... John concurred. John then pulled out of the kiss and looked hungrily into Marc's eyes as he licked his lips. He laced his fingers in Marc's hair and pulled down, revealed more of Marc's neck and assaulted it with kisses.

"Yesssss...take me..." Marc begged. John could feel Marc's nails raking into his back. John's body began to quake with need…

Need…

What am I doing?

He pushed Marc off and backed away, clutching his head. His world was spinning out of control and he couldn't make it stop.

"Who are you?" John asked, finding his voice. Marc began closing the distance between them, donning that same mischievous grin—and that golden glow in his eyes. John couldn't bring himself to back away. When he was close enough, Marc wrapped his arms around John's neck and brought him into an embrace.

Looking up into John's face Marc asked, "Do you really wanna know?"

"Yes," John sighed and closed his eyes.

Bringing his lips up to John's ear, he whispered, "All you need do is look in the mirror," and disengaged his arms.

And moments later, when John reopened his eyes, Marc was gone.

'(O_~)'