Chapter 1

"Center of Cumulonimbus cloud system detected. Engaging operating procedure Tesla." A woman's robotic, simulated voice echoed throughout the enclosed operating room. "Automatic hydraulic systems for sector four have been engaged. 'Big ass lightening rod' will be fully functional in T-minus ninety seconds."

I couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle as the lab-coats in the room gave their own unsatisfactory responses towards the emotionless A.I. program. But really, their disgruntled sighs and snorts were directed at one of their own. Ruben, the chief computer nerd, or as his company labeled him, the Head Programming Specialist, tried his hardest to contain the small fit of laughter escaping from his lips. He was failing miserably, and I had to look away to avoid anyone seeing his own cheeky grin. After all, as head of security, I was supposed to be the most composed person in the room.

"All units, check-in" I whispered into the walkie clipped on the front pocket of his standard, military grade combat vest.

"Hallways are clear." A strong feminine voice crackled back. "Nothing new to report."

"Sub-sector one is vacant of activity." A younger voice responded. "Everyone's pretty much with you. Resuming patrol."

"Sub-sector two is bloody well fine." A more than agitated middle-aged man replied gruffly. "Now, would you quite 'checking in' every ten minutes. We'll let you know if something comes up!"

"Ignore him." A fourth, slightly congested agent cued in. "All security monitors are still fully functional and the feeds are coming uninterrupted. Sub-sector three is clear and the, ahem, 'lightning rod' is nearly fully expanded."

"Thank you Greg, Rebecca, and CJ" I said, pausing for a second before pressing the input button on my walkie one last time. "And Ted too, I guess."

"Why you little-" Ted started raving, but I'd already reached for the volume control and turned it down to a negligible level before it attracted too much unnecessary attention. It probably wasn't professional to be provoking one of my own co-workers like that, but sometimes even I couldn't help himself. At least, not when it came to Ted. He was never too keen on the idea that I had been put in charge monitoring such an important project such as this. Especially since I was just, in the absolute tamest words that had ever left Ted's mouth, 'some punk kid'. Now, I knew I couldn't really blame Ted for voicing his concerns, and I didn't. The other head supervisors, not just those on the security team, had more than questioned my ability from the moment I arrived here too. However, Ted was still the only one opposed to me even after I'd proved myself to be more than capable of handling the situation. So, since Ted was always so intent on giving me a hard time in every aspect of my job, a little payback every now and then didn't feel unwarranted.

I turned my focus back to control room. It felt strange having so little to watch out for. One door acted as the sole means for entrance and exit and I was stationed by it. A breach was unlikely from the outside, since the sectors, halls, and every single room in them was monitored by state of the art surveillance technology. Not only that, but the doors to each of the sectors were designed to handle just about any kind of explosive, with many layers of rock, thick titanium laced steel, and both manual and electronic locks. About two hundred trained and combat ready guards were on duty in the expansive underground facility, their ranks split into about ten different security teams. I was the leader of team Echo.

But, even with all the exterior protection, there was always the potential of an interior threat. Though, in this section of the facility, it probably seemed the most unlikely.

The control room of Research Sector C was packed pull of monitors and computers more than anything else. Potential weapons were limited down to the coffee cups and pens that the computer nerds and scientists around the room carried on their persons. While I was certainly prepared and open to the possibility for one of them to suddenly snap or turn and start murdering his fellow employees, I labeled the threat as pretty unlikely. The only exercise most of these guys had was in the form of punching in characters on a keyboard. The only other person of interest in the room was Director Patrick D. Thomas, who was sitting in on this little test run of theirs. He was talking with Ruben, obviously trying to ridicule him for his choice of pre-assigned codenames, but it came out as more of light warning. Director Thomas, while certainly hard working and serious when the time called for it, wasn't exactly the most aggressive or strict otherwise. Most would think that this would play against him with his work, but his kind demeanor and leniency towards the rules so long as it didn't disturb a high ranking company policy or hinder the project at all, earned him the respect of everyone that worked under him. But of course, he had to at least attempt to keep up appearances. Even if he was horrible at it.

Incidentally, Director Thomas was actually the main reason I got the position I was in now, despite my obvious age difference. Our meeting…hadn't been one of the usual sense. Then again, if it had been, I doubted Thomas would have taken such an interest in my special talents.

I could still remember it clearly. It was a day in late September. I had just got back from teaching the advanced class at my local dojo. I wasn't really tired at the time or sweaty, but I was thirsty. Teaching martial arts is very different from practicing them. For starters, you don't do near as much work or training. Instead, you're there to pretty much show the various forms and combinations that your school teaches, then watch closely and check for errors in the student's technique and posture. Don't get me wrong though, I do enjoy teaching those who are willing to learn. Kids, anywhere from elementary to middle school are always more than eager to learn and that's what makes it fun to teach them. On the flip side though, that same eagerness leads to a lot of inefficient and sometimes sloppy form when it comes to performing punches and kicks. I couldn't count how many times I had to instruct many of them to slow down. Speed would come with time, it was best not to rush your attacks. While they didn't always tend to follow this advice, they at least attempted it for a bit first. I wasn't overly concerned though. They were young. When they grew older, like the adults, they would come to understand the importance of my words. I still loved working with them.

The one demographic that gave me the most trouble, unsurprisingly, were the teenagers. Every time I was assigned to teach the intermediate age classes, I'd always get at least two upper belts in the group that dismissed my advice almost immediately. I'd hear it all. I was still the same as them. I was close to their age, I didn't look like I earned the belt I wore, anything they could pick out to justify that I wasn't better than them. And truly, I wasn't, speaking metaphorically. But I did have more training, more drive, and more skill. That made me more qualified and I did not hesitate to show it in the many sparring matches and attribute demonstrations that were spaced out in our course curriculum. Some were able to accept it easily and move on with their ambitions. Others fought tooth and nail to best me every single day in anything they could. Whichever path they chose though, it guided them to my overall goal. Getting them to be better fighters. Now, I also wish I had been able to change their attitudes too, but you can't win every battle.

Back to the matter at hand, I had acquired a very unsettling dryness in the back of my throat due in large part to the fact that my overeager kid students hadn't let me take a smidgeon of a break during the last hour and a half. And then staying late to clean up and close up. So, I decided to take a detour on the way home and stop by the local convenience store for some tea. Even though it wouldn't be anything like the herbal mixtures I kept at home, sometimes even I still enjoyed the overly-sugarized and partially artificial tastes of company brand tea. I remembered looking at the clock on the dash as I pulled into the freshly painted and smooth parking lot of a brand new 7-11. It was around half past ten. Something else I noticed was that the location and position of the gas station was horrible, speaking in terms of tactics. The nearest police station was twenty minutes away, fifteen if you really pushed it. More than enough time for criminals to be in and out. And in a rotten part of the neighborhood like this, it was a wonder the store hadn't been robbed yet.

The location could only be the pitiful product of the chain's hunger for profit and low cost of the lot in which the station sat. Hardly smart, but then, what could I do about that?

I tugged on the metal handle of the glass frame door, the sharp chime of a bell announcing my entrance. The attendant gave me a quick glance and brief friendly greeting before going back to stocking the back wall with cigarettes. At least the staff was pleasant. I wandered past the packed shelves of the slightly overpriced snacks, catching my reflection walking by in a single, flattened, circular mirror above the soda machine. It was located near my destination, the coolers, carving out a straight path from the entrance and the right corner of the room and back to it. I made note of it and moved on.

Upon reaching the back of the store, I noticed one of the cooler doors was already opened and another person was crouched, perusing through the bottom rack of gallon milk cartons. Despite his form being half covered by the fogged translucent glass, he wasn't someone I had expected to see. Not necessarily because I knew him, but rather, the type of person he appeared to be. I noticed a well kept charcoal suit jacket hung around tight shoulders, a wrinkled white dress shirt and loosened tie poked out from around the gray edges, charcoal pants to match, and black dress shoes. What convinced me of their worth was the style. They were Oxfords. No doubt the rest of his outfit was worth just as much as those shoes. Strange to see someone with money shopping here for milk, but then, I suppose even the wealthy had to make quick, unexpected grocery pickups just like the rest of us.

I finally saw him pull out a gallon jug with a red top. Hmm, whole milk huh? Good choice.

I was just about to search for my own drink selection, when I heard the bell at the front of the store let out another high pitched ding. My eyes immediately snapped towards the mirror. Three men entered the store. One was white and bald, dressed in a battered old white tank top and jeans. The second one was black, dreads hanging loosely down his back, wearing a dark black jacket that looked way too warm for the weather. And the last one was white too, a thick scar carved across his cheek, dressed in much the same as the black man. Something in the back of my mind told me that they weren't here for the candy and I reached out to put a hand on the suited guy's shoulder to stop him from getting up.

The guy stopped and looked at me quizzically. I had to think of something to justify myself quick or he would give our position away. "I'm not sure you want that one." I half whispered, so as not be overheard by the new customers. "The expiration on that is a little too soon, don't you think?" I asked with a smile, trying to appear as friendly as possible. The suited man still appeared confused at my actions, but a look down at the jug he was holding brought forth a moment of clarity. It expired next week instead of the week after, the optimal time you wanted on your dairy products.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was abruptly cut off by the harsh clip of a gun at the front counter. "Alright lady, cash in the bag! Now!." This was soon re-enforced by one other click and the screech of something metal being unsheathed. Looking back up at the mirror, I could spot that the guys were armed with two semi-automatic pistols, the one on the far left with a machete. How in the world did he manage to sneak that in?

The leader, the one with the scar, directed the gun at the frightened lady's head and thrust a plastic bag in her face. "If you don't want to be filled with holes, empty the register! Come on! Move it!" He ordered.

I watched as the lady hastily opened the drawer and started throwing bills in, all the while the leader was pressuring her be faster. The other two, seeing that the situation was handled, started pilfering whatever snack item they were craving. I broke my watchful gaze, my mind running through all the available information I'd collected when I walked in. There wouldn't be much time before the girl was finished and the wannabee gangsters thieves would be on their way. I don't know if you could tell, but I had a severe distaste for crime. Plus, I needed some of those bills. I sure as heck wasn't about to hand over a ten for a dollar tea without getting any change.

Plan already in place, I reached over and snatched the milk jug from my business acquaintance. Twisting the cap about halfway off. I watched the mirror and waited until the leader was rejoined by his two compatriots, then, I lobbed the jug over my head and out towards the front counter. The sudden splash and surprised cries covered my rush from one end of the shelving units to the other, sticking low and looping around the back to the one ahead of it. I kept my eyes glued on the single ceiling mirror, monitoring the movements of my targets. Apparently, I'd managed to splash the black guy's new shoes and pants, from the way he was raving about it. He started advancing towards the coolers, shouting all sort of obscenities and threats of what he was going to do once he caught me. Heh, like he was the man in charge of the situation.

He passed the third shelf, the fourth, man this guy clueless. He wasn't checking down any of the shelving units he passed, only interested in the one where the milk had come from. And to top it off, he didn't pay the slightest attention to the mirror by the soda machine. So when I jumped out, maneuvering my left hand behind his forearm and the right over the barrel of his gun before he even had time to blink, he had no time to offer any sort of resistance. Pushing both in their separate directions, there was a small snap as his finger was violently bent at an unnatural angle. The black man let out a cry of pain, but it didn't stop there. I quickly wrapped my free arm around his neck and brought him into a headlock while my other hand spun the gun around, my pointer finger sliding into the trigger. I threw it over the guy's left shoulder and fired once, the bullet sinking into the leader's left kneecap. It was now his turn to shout out as he fell to the ground clutching his knee, dropping his gun on reflex. The machete man, now starting to react to what had just transpired, turned tail to run, but slipped on the white liquid that was still spewing from the milk jug. Before he could get up, I pushed the black guy away and delivered a fast snap kick to his spine, sending him flying forward before collapsing on top of his colored companion. As a last act, I raced over to where Scarface had dropped his pistol, kicking it behind me and firing off a shot at the tile by the machete man's face, who was struggling against the heavy wait on his back. He froze after that.

In less than a minute, the confrontation was over.

"Agh! You bastard! You shot me in the leg!" Scarface shouted violently, clutching his bleeding appendage.

"You shouldn't have robbed the store." I replied calmly, taking out my phone and palming 9-1-1, gun still trained on the three of them. "Hello, I'm here to report an attempted robbery. Three armed assailants at the 7-11 on Brooker street. They've all been successfully detained, but please send an ambulance for two of them. Thank you." I said to the operator as soon as she got on the line, before hanging up the phone pointedly and turning to the still shocked and frightened store attendant. "It's alright miss, they can't hurt you." I said to her as soothingly as I could. "But would you mind please grabbing me an Arizona sweet tea from the cooler. I've been dying for a drink for about two hours now."

Whether it was because she was grateful for me taking out the goons or because I was still the only one left in possession of a firearm, she went and fulfilled my request. I reached for my wallet, pulling it out, but she shook her head vehemently. "P-Please, j-just take it." She said, voice still quivering, but more from the excitement than the fear.

I smiled at her generosity, flipping the gun around and offering her the stock end. "Thank you. Would you also mind taking this and keeping watch over these three. The police should be here in about ten to fifteen." I asked. When she didn't take it from me, I simply set it down on the counter. This wasn't really a request, more as it was a polite order. Like those parents give their children.

The guys below me started to move again, seeing I wasn't in possession of the weapon anymore, but halted once the now overzealous store clerk snatched it up and pointed it at them shakily. I had to hold back a laugh. She looked a lot like a caged animal, a bunch of unsettling emotions put on show for everyone in the room. That's probably why the decommissioned robbers on the ground stopped moving. They didn't want to be the ones to set her off. Criminals, after all, were mostly just desperate cowards at heart.

I popped the aluminum tab on my tea can and proceeded to take a sip. Yep, just as sugary as I remembered, though it seemed that they cut down a little. Thirst satisfied, I turned and walked to the store's front glass pane doors.

"Wait! Where are you going?" The store clerk nearly shouted.

I turned my head to her, flashing her with my best smile. "Well miss, the situation's handled. There's no need for me to be any more involved. The police can handle the rest. Just say some stranger came in to help out." I said. "And keep your focus on them." I pointed, as the machete guy had started to move again. She refocused her attention instantly and I pushed on the door handle labeled 'Exit', about to be on my merry way.

"Wait!" A different voice beckoned. I sighed, but complied. "What is your name?" He asked, much to my surprise. I had expected someone like Mr. Business to tell me how irresponsible it was to leave the scene of the crime instead of exchange pleasantries. Interesting.

"Just a good Samaritan sir." I responded, walking out and leaving the protesting man back in the store.

Of course, little did I know that this same man was the Director for some top secret, hush-hush, government facility who was just happening to put together another security crew. I don't know the details, but he managed to find me again, popping in at the dojo and requesting to speak with me while I was directing a class. At first, my sensei didn't want my class to be interrupted, but a quick flash of a badge changed all that.

Long story short, we talked and he offered me the job I now held, provided I could pass a few tests for him. Some were written, some involved testing my fighting skill, but most were simulations of security breaches for different situations. As you might've guessed, I passed them all. Even when some of the people on my supposed "side" in the simulations decided not to follow some of my plans/orders and made it much more difficult than it should've been. But then, I suppose that was something I had to be prepared for as well.

Much like with Ted.

"Everything in order Axel?" Patrick asked, snapping me away from my trip down memory lane, clipboard in hand. Funny enough, he was wearing close to the exact same attire from the store raid. Except his suit was black now.

"All units are currently patrolling the sectors. Nothing out of order sir. Though it does seem Ted's throwing another, ahem, fit." I responded, turning the volume back up on my walkie. Thankfully Ted had finished whatever rant he'd been spouting off on.

The director shook his head. "You shouldn't push him so much, you know. It makes it harder for me to vouch for you when he complains about you every day."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir. I will refrain from doing so." I said, trying to fight back against a betraying smile that was urging to make itself present across my lips. Both of us knew though that I probably wouldn't and Ted would most likely complain either way.

"I suppose that's the best I'm going to get from you." He said with a tired sigh. "I just hope this test run goes smoothly. The entire budget for the next term relies on this."

"I hope so too sir." I agreed.

Through the thick glass window of the control room, we could see the result of the team's latest scientific achievement. Two giant circles of metal, interwoven with all sorts of electrical wiring, glowing lights, and circuitry that was far beyond my comprehension, stood grandly on the floor below. Off to either side, the latest power storage units hummed lightly with the incredible energy harnessed from the thunder storm.

I was no scientist, but they did manage to explain the machine down to a basic level for me. Or rather, Ruben did. Everyone else was just too busy to explain it to a non-intellectual human. The machine below was some kind of new prototype transporter, something that could take an entire cargo hold of supplies and move them across the world in a matter of seconds. The two metal rings were called gates and when they were switched on, they produced some sort of energy field that connected them. The items went through one end and came out the other. Pretty simple concept. Not so simple execution.

It was powered by another one of their inventions, the long sought after Telsa Rod. That's right, we'd finally figured out how to harness power from lightning. Again, I don't know all the details, but somehow, when lightning strikes the tip, it spreads out over the dome, where its spread out and stepped down by transformers and other electrical modifiers until it can be used for energy here. Since it produces such a great amount of power in such a short time, it was only used every couple months to power this facility. But now that we had a power hungry machine, it could finally be used for a bigger purpose.

"Power storage cells fully charged." One of the lab coats called out from behind his computer. "Initiate startup."

"Initiating startup." A.N.G.I. echoed.

Down below, the storage containers began to hum loudly, their bulky forms illuminated by the standard lights in the area. Fiberglass transfer wires started accepting energy, shining a brilliant sapphire blue, directing a path straight to both of the gates. Small bolts of electricity sparked around the edges and another sound pierced through the thick glass. The whine from the machinery started out low, slowly growing in intensity until it was almost deafening. Then, a bright light suddenly flashed across my vision, forcing my hand to rise towards my eyes, rubbing them as white spots dotted behind my eyelids. When I opened them again, I was…speechless.

The hallowed out space in between the gates was now filled. A murky, semi-transparent and wavy field was now pulsing lightly, like a sort of faint heartbeat. Both me and Director Thomas marveled at the sight.

"It worked…" He muttered softly. "Good god, we've done it…!"

I clasped a hand on his shoulder. "I knew you all would sir." I said with a smile. "But maybe sending something through it for the cameras would cement your project in stone huh?"

He snapped himself out of his stupor and cleared his throat. "Yes, of course. Send in the drone."

"Way ahead of you boss!" Ruben exclaimed, swiping his remote control from his desk and hurrying over to the glass window. I heard Patrick sighed again next to me and mutter something about how they needed to at least appear professional while the higher-ups were watching. I smirked. Like anyone could every get Ruben to act professional. He was much like me, in the fact that he too was gifted in his own field, mainly computer programming and robotics. He was actually the main man behind A.N.G.I.'s creation and had certainly earned his right to be here, just like the rest of us. However, his personality went about as unchecked as mine probably would've been if my role hadn't been for security work. Needless to say, we got along pretty well.

From the back of the room, I watched as Ruben expertly piloted his own custom made black drone took to the skies in the lower room. When I say custom built, I don't just mean that he built himself and made it a much better, faster drone. He did that, but there was so much more to it. At least, I've never seen a drone with a fully functional machine gun, bomb attachments, and a fully integrated camera with geographical scanning and mapmaking technology that would put the military's to shame. I don't think anyone else has either.

Ruben expertly piloted the black aircraft over to a small metallic crate that had been chosen for the test run, hovering over it before activating another one of his drone's cool features. The super magnet. Suddenly, the box jumped up of its own accord and latched itself to the drone's underside, the strong magnetic fields maintaining a tight hold on the precious cargo. Ruben looked back at the two of us and smiled, before edging his drone closer to the first gate's energy field.

We all held our breaths. If that drone went in and appeared out on the other side of the gate, man will have achieved its greatest accomplishment yet. Teleportation.

"A-Axxxel!" My walkie buzzed and crackled by my side.

I had that walkie in my hand almost before his broken call had even concluded. "Greg! What's wrong?"

The walkie picked up so much static when I let go of the button that I barely made out his response. "S-s-someone tammmperred…with…T-tt-elsa…Abbo-rt. N-now!"

My eyes went wide and I shouted at the top of my lungs. "Shut it off! Shut it down Angi! N-"

Another, much more powerful and bright flash shot through the room, effectively blinding everyone once again. Several loud pops of electrical breakers and safety components tripped off, taking out the lights and computers in the room. Between the white film over my eyes left from the flash and the sudden dark contrast, I almost didn't make out the blue glow that still shone from down. Accompanied by the highest pitch of screeching electrical circuitry I've ever heard. It was the alarm system.

My protective instincts kicked in and I slammed my fist on the emergency lever by the door, thrusting it down. The door behind us hissed open and I was already shouting at everyone to get out. The scientists in the back had regained enough sight to make their way towards the exit, but ones closest to the flash were still stumbling about, trying to find their way amongst the chaos. I rushed to the front.

"Angi! Give me a status report!" I shouted to the A.I. system.

"Control room power systems have been overloaded and shut down. Second gate has been deactivated. First gate…malfunction, cannot terminate function." She said. "Energy field growing. Danger level is at Alpha. Evacuation of sector is in progress."

Damn! That was not what I wanted to hear. And a look back at the teleporter did nothing to alleviate my fears. It worsened them

Inside the room, the first gate's energy field was out of control. Its original light blue glow had turned much darker, the particle waves inside it now swirling inwards like some kind of atomic whirlpool. Sparks and bolts of electricity, way larger than what was considered safe, shot off from all corners of the machine. But that wasn't what made me worried. The fact that that same energy field was sucking in anything that wasn't bolted down did. I watched in awe and terror as crates, tables, papers, TV monitors, almost everything except for the power storage units was shot into that blue void.

Then, the glass started to crack.

"Move!" I yelled, trying to get my voice above the sound of the machine's fury. I didn't care about being gentle now. I was practically throwing scientists to the door left and right, Director Thomas grabbing them in turn and getting them on the other side of the door. Soon, most of them had regained their sight and didn't need my help, but some of the elders were still going much to slow. I started escorting them one by one as fast as I could, picking some of them up in some cases. As soon as I got the last one to the exit, Director Thomas shouted something and pointed to the back.

Ruben was getting up behind a row of computer monitors, looking around crazily and confused. I shouted for him to hurry and beckoned for him by the door. His head moved towards the sound of my voice, but he stumbled forward with his hands out, seemingly unsure of which direction to go. The small crack on the glass from before had now splintered out into a spider web, only fueling my cries for Ruben to get the hell back here. Then it hit me. Ruben was the closest one to the blast of light…he was blind. I raced to the front once again, ignoring the protests of the Director and grabbed Ruben's arm, yanking him back in the direction of the door.

Boom!

The glass behind us shattered, shards clinging and breaking as they were sucked into the hungry portal behind us. I had barely managed to secure my hand on one of the desks in time as computer monitors, keyboards, and all manner of office supplies flew past us at breakneck speeds, forcing me and Ruben to duck down to avoid being hit. The pull from the portal felt like a miniature tornado twirling behind us, getting closer and gaining power with each passing second. The strain on my arm to hold on was intense, but the adrenaline that was now coursing through my veins beat back against the pain. We needed to reach that door!

I pulled on the desk in front of me, fighting against the growing tension in my arm, taking a step against the attraction of the behemoth from behind. We were already halfway through, which gave my body hope as I took another step. Then another. Through grunts and growls, I pushed myself harder than any training exercise I ever attempted, making it past desk after desk, the door drawing ever so close. But, the portal wasn't giving up. My ears caught the sound of wood splintering and I dared a look back to see the closest desk get ripped apart from its nails and bolts careening violently into the blue field. The second soon followed. My venture had now turned into a time attack event, panic running through my veins as I took more risks. I pulled myself up harder, I jumped from desk to desk, anything to gain so much as a second more on the portal's progress.

By the time I reached the closest desk to the door and pinned myself against it, there were only four more rows separating us. I grasped Ruben's arm with both hands and tugged against the gale force winds, my progress passing by in slow motion while the fourth row was obliterated. As soon as I got him up with me, I positioned him in front of me and pushed, shouting for him to take the Director's hand. The third row gave up and banged around noisily before being sucked in. Patrick finally got a hold of Ruben's hand and pulled him to safety with the help of the other scientists. He then turned back for me, outstretching his hand as much as possible.

Planting a foot on the lip of the desk, I stretched out my leg and reached out with all my might, but was still a good three inches shy of his hand. The second row fell away, much too close for comfort. I had to make a decision fast, as I already felt the desk my foot was against wobble a little. I quickly placed both feet on the lip and put my full weight against the bench for a brief second, the desk bending under the combined strain of me and the portal. I leapt off just as the nails gave out, desperately lunging for the Director's hand.

Our fingertips merely brushed and we barely had time to exchange looks of equal shock and horror before I was ripped away from them and my world was tossed into a series of shocks and blue swirls.

Hey everyone. Long time no see again. I live! Sorry for not posting for a while again, but my computer unfortunately took a crap on me and died so...I've been offline for a bit ;(. And to top it off, I lost some stuff for the MC fanfic. My drafts got taken away...so I'm gonna need a little more time to redo the first chapter. Le sigh. But, I did manage to recover these from my old Cerinia Chronicles fic, which I will be redoing and continuing a little differently. These first four chapters will be similar, with minor edits/fixes, but five is where more noticeable changes will begin for those who remember this fic. Either way, I hope you all enjoy and I will get the MC remake back up as soon as I am able!

As always, please make sure to leave me a review on this story, sharing any thoughts you might have, suggestions, critiques, anything helps :D.

Until next time.