A/N: Happy Halloween! It has been a year and a day since I started this story, so let's hope it doesn't take me that long to finish it. Also, I don't know if anyone noticed, but every chapter so far has been named after a color, or rather, an object that is a particular color. Black. LIKE MY HEART. For the record, pitch is a type of tar made from pine trees. The word is also in the English language as a verb, meaning to throw, or to propose an idea. Yay! Learning!
That was the first night in some time Janet suffered from no nightmares. She lay awake in her bed for hours, his words echoing painfully through her head.
"What makes you think you know anything about me?" he spat. "You haven't even been around me in years."
Janet closed her eyes and turned over, curling the blankets protectively around herself. As if that would help her. S̕he̵ ͠had br͝o͢ug̛hţ ͝this ̛on ̡h̵ȩr̸se͏lf, re̵all̶y̴. Everything that had happened, every word that was said, was because of her.
"Who said that?"
She was w͢eąk̨. She had fallen into such m͞a̶dn̶ess͟ from her own ͟sins and no one else's, and that was why her family had fa̕l̛len a̸p̧ar͘t҉ around her. That was why the l͏o͘v̵e͝ of her life had ͜l͜eft̷ h҉er͟—
"I heard you," she said. "I know you're there."
Ḯ̚͘f̂̀͐̄̕ ̄h̀e̾̔ͧ͡ ̏́̎ͣ̾͂ͨ͜ȟ̛̂̅̽̉a̢̅̔̓̏d̒͋ͫ҉ lo҉v̛e̸d͞ he͝r to begin with, because let's be honest here, w͜ho would ͘ev̀e͢r͏ l̹o̟̯̲̖v̵̼̯͚e҉̟̪̹̺ ̠̗h̘̦̗̀e̸r̢͔̭̤?̩̪̝͈͉
"What did you just—?"
T͢h͞at wa̸s̀ ͢wh̴y she was̴ ͟a͘lon҉e.̴
Janet threw off the blankets and got out of bed. "You think I don't fucking know that?!" she shrieked. "You think I need you to tell me that—"
T̕h͢at̴ it was h̗̲̬e̝̗̱͕r͖͖̠͠ ̶f҉aùl̀t̷?
She stilled.
Because, really, it was. All she did was hurt the people she was supposed to protect. She brought pain and misery to everything she touched. It was her fault entirely.
"No, it's not," she said weakly. The shadows of the room twisted in the mirror, angry and alive. The surface of the glass began to stretch, expanding forward, as if something was inside the mirror and trying to get out. "It… It's not my fault…"
It was h͚̯̱̹̯̑̒͒͂e̯̊̓̿ͭͥ̎̔rͣ̇̄̊̽̍ ̝̗̟͔̥fͧͪ̏ͥ̓a͚͇͍̞̣̭͑ͦű̝͖̱̑̍l̹͈̻̪̪͎̒ͧt͕̮̝̪̯͔̞ͦ and she ̭̺̯͈̟͚k̻̪͉͇̰n͈̝̘̰̖̪̰e̥̯̺̯̣͔ͅw̩̣ͅ ͉̱͚̖͚̼ḭ̮̣̬t̼̖. She would ͚͔͈̠͉̮̦n̗͔͈̪͎̖͍͉e̟̭ͅv͔̩͕͇e̩͚̘̫̬̩ṟ̙̜̩̮͇̠̱ ̠̜̣͉̩̖b̦͇̱̳̠̭e̱̬͈̻ ͎̘̲̘g̤̬͈̤̪̞͉̣o̝o̝̘͈̣̫̹̩d͕̙̱ ̗̪e͍͍̣̪̫̩̼̻̳n̪̤̟o̹̫u̫̳͙͙͚̮͓g̠̰͚̞̺̝̪͖͙h̜͕̟͇͈.
̩̗̫͎̪͉̰͐̅͑ͫ͛̆̅T̟̬̙̱̏͒͆ͤ̅͑̽h̳̝͍e̿̈̈́̓̏ͯr̺̊e̤͎͖̼̣̎̿̇̽ͨͅ ͆ͬ̑̀̂̽͆w̫͐̽ͩ͑͗a͙̘̝̮̙͕ͪ̏ͥ́s̘̊ͪ̾ͭͮ ͐̾ͩ̆ͤ̒n̘̗̙͉͙̺͑ͧ̓̂̚ͅo͙ͯͯ̒͌͌t͇͓̩̺̱̑̿͆̊̏̍ͬh͇̻̯̫ḯͣ̔̾̋n͕̎ͩ͊̏̀́g̳̮̱̮̓͛̈ ͌͂̏̋̐̚s̻͚̼͔̝̊͆̽ͅh̥̥̮̞̯̖ͭ͆͐̔͛̒ẹ̓̑̉̚ ̲̥̝̬̈́ͯͥ̅̍̾ͩc̩͍̗̟͈̗ͧ̽ͯ͒̿o͖͍̊ů̲̹͚̊ͨl̜̦̱̽̃̋̉ḋ͈ͦͣͦ ̫̮̟̮̌e͈̰̻̤͍͎̪ṽͣ̅̎̚e͖̞̲̺̮r̥͕̗̯ ̫̪͐̓̃̾ͦͯdo̞̱̻ͦ ͓̦͎̗̮̘ͯ͋̅͛̅͌ͧt͍̔̆͆̀ͯo̻̰͙ͮ̀̉̚ͅ ͙ͣ̽c͍̄̈́h̭̥͓͚͉͗̃ͅà̝͇͔̱̯̜ͩͫn̮̣̮̣̩̥̐͋̓̐ͬ̏g͙̦̦̬͙͙͛͋̍̆ͨe̗͍̣̠̱̒ͯ͐ͦ̃ ͔̻̖̩ͤͭ́̑h̝̐ͪ̋̀ͫe͎̣̠͖ͭ̈r͎̠̟͓̮̙̩͛̆͋̓ ̄ͤ̏͑̾f̲ͮ̃͋̂͐a̫ͯ̎ͫ̚t͉̳͚̫̒͒ͪͣḛ̯̝ͩ̚.̱̥̩̞̦̮ͪ̒ͦͮ́ͩ̇
"Shut up."
̜̩̤̹ͨͫͭ͑Š̝̬̄̓̑̍ͩͧ̐H̻̮̘̩͓̹ͤ͂Ẽ̥̻̇ͬ ̗̫̜̬̞̜̰̋̊͗͆̿̚H̥̩͉̫͍͌͌̊̋ͥ͒̀͑Ă͙̩ͪ̐̏͛ͪͥ̌Ḏ͓̦̐ͮ ͙̪̟͉̭ͩͮ̃̎́̐̒̚D͍̻͖̭͍̙̭̰̓E̪ͭ͂ͤ̑ͨ̾͂ͪS̮̱͔̰͙̙̭̟̊ͣ̓͑T͇́͐͊̆R̙̱̭̯̭͑̈O̬͖͙̗̹͋͊̎̽ͪ̂̅Ỵ̤̦͓͛̓̇̏Ë͙̠̦̺̼͇̦́ͦ̈̅͌D̥̪̬̤͙͚͈̽̉ͬ̐͒ͣ̇̐̄ ͇̬̗͚̹̤͎ͣ͐H̹̦̖̣͙̪̮̲̱͌̀ͫE͉̘̪̥̹͕̣̥̒̇̊͐͊̊R̺̠͇̓ ̬̬̮̻͑̔̒͐̊O̩͈̮̭̺͚̬ͮ̎͛̏̉W̞̣̺̘̘̻̤̋̄ͨN͚̝͔͗ͭͥ̄̈́̈͗̐ ̝̮̦͈̮̟̞̘̂̚F͕̫̼̼͊̀̔̀ͩ͌ͭȂ͕̻͉͖̬͈̹̾̉ͫ̿ͩ̆M͓̺̳͓̫̜͈̔I̺͓̯̺ͭ̈͊̏L̯̙̲͕̖̳̐̈́͗Y̙̜̣ͮ.͉̜͗ͯ͌̉
"Shut up!"
T̺̣̦̺͔ͅh͖̼͕̹ͪ̓ͤe̖͐̄̍ ̦͓͚̺͔̺͔ͨͬ̓̉o̖̜̿̐̅̒n͉͉̯̦̫̙̟ͦ͌̈́ͫ͊͆̔l̘͇̖̳͙̥͍ͤ̿͂̎̏y̬ͥ ̣̱̟̫t̪̹ͦ̑̍̍ͨ̋h̫̮̹͕͔͐͌̈ỉ̫̈́̂̋ͩ̄̓n̤͙̺̐ͫ̂̊̿̚gͮ̅͊̄ ̖̙̻̗ͦ̔̆ͨ̾ͫ͗ṯ͖͖̲̤̱̝͆ͭ̌hͣa̠͇̐̅tͫ͊̇̽ ̹̤͕̼̮͉̬́ͭẃ̜̤́͆̽̎͌ỏ͚̑ͯṷ͈̖͕ḽd̩̜̫̟͉͔ͣͬ̀ͪ̔͗ ̺̪͓̱͒͑̾̈́̽ͮr̬̼ͪͤe̝̝̰͆ͩ͗̌d̟̠̪̻̺̰ȇ͚̣̼̿̓̋͛̓̈e̪͍̫͂ͦm̦̜̖̜ͥ̅ͪ́͗̏͒ ͔͕̰̠h̯͎̆̉ͧe̪͊͗͛̃ͦͤ̅r͖̻̄ͧ͛ ͖͌̄w̮͈̓͂̆̌͐ạ̪̹̰̗̩̎ͩ́͌̓͋s̭̲ͦͯ̿ͥͪ ̥ͅd̤̱̺͔͉̼͎e̻͕͉͉̎͐ͨa̳̯̺̋̄̓̅ͣẗ́́͑̾h̖̘͓͙̾ͪ̋͂̿̅.
"SHUT UP!" Janet grabbed her alarm clock and hurled it into the vanity mirror, smashing it. For a brief moment after the cord ripped free of the wall, the speakers spewed tuneless static over a Sonny & Cher song she hated. The shards fell to the floor.
l̤̫̤͓̤̘̇͆ͩ̎ͮ̈́͡I͚̜̬̯̯͑̓̀ͪ̉ͫ̿k̬̩̯͓̬̼̼̓̊Ȩ̺ͣ̎̾̐̑ͮ ͆̓̈́t̶̔̂H̲͋e͔̱͉̺ͤ̄ͦͬ͞ ̘̉ͯ͆ͤ̃R̭̯̲̭ͩ̏̾́ͅe̦̬̙̪̮͔̔M̨̝̒ā̌͢Ĭ͂̇ͯ̑̋ń̲̔ͮ̒̈́ͥ̒S̥̼̱̱͙ͮ̊̒́̔̂ ̤̞͇̳͑̋̏͒o̢̜͋̅ͧ̈F͉̙͕̻̱͚̾͝ ͓̪̟̜̯̩ͩ͌͐͢h̰̟͕̰̮͈͈̏͑E̩̭̖̹̰̲̋̂̆̾r̖̂́ ̖̥͉̜̓ͯ̌ͣ̋̓̃̕S̷͙̥̬̉̆h͕̦ͨͬ̈́͌͜A̫̖ͫ͂ͮ̈͘t̝̋́ͩ̀̃T̩͇̖͔̃͐ͪ͋̔ͥe͕͈̫̟̣͊ͣ̃̍͗R̡̩͗͗̋̒̆̑e̟͍͚͊̉̋͆̓ͥ̾͞D̖͂ ̾͌̒̀ͩ̃͊p̲͎ͭ͋ͭ̒͂̃ͧS̞̼̙̙͔̼͐ͫͩͩ̎͐͐͜ͅy̠̞̠̞̞͈̫ͩ̓ͯC̭̣̺̞͚̜̋̾̆̆̂͝ḧ̤̜͈͙͚ͭͮ͆̈́̎ͅe̜̦̫̭͈̫͙ͤ̌.̝̼̜̩̙̒
"I fucking told you to shut up and I fucking meant it you cocksucking asshole!"
She glared at a pile of broken glass for the second time in forty-eight hours, deeply unhappy. The pieces did not move, and much to her relief, stopped talking to her. The room was silent, save for the sounds of her heavy breathing. She straightened up and harrumphed, spitting on the broken glass, which had nothing more to say to her.
"You're goddamn right," she rumbled. Carefully Janet pulled on her boots and made her way downstairs. She had no idea what time it was, now that the clock radio had met its untimely demise, but all that lying awake while being consumed by regret and battling the voices in her head had left her famished and cranky.
Unle̡ss҉ ͟t̡h́ȩy͟ ͝wére re—
"What was that, shithead?" she called out on her way to the kitchen. "I couldn't hear you over the sound of you not existing!"
H̕er ch̶i̶ldish͏ ͟g͘amȩs ̨we̵ŕe͝—
"La la la la I'm not listening la la la la la," she grumbled sleepily. Janet got out a new filter for the coffee pot and put it in, spooned in the grounds, poured water in the machine and glared at it in contempt until it boiled. Finally, at long last, delicious java began dripping back into the pot and she sighed. There wasn't enough to drink yet, but just the smell put her at ease.
The blonde glanced out the window. The rosy fingers of dawn were just now edging over the horizon, the last few stars only just winking out. Janet smiled. It was beautiful, another glorious morning. The sun was shining, the birds were singing.
She would have liked to break their little legs.
"Well," she said abruptly, "time to take a handful of pills and face the day!"
Janet did the same thing she'd been doing for those most recent and stressful days. She ignored the bad thought and hoped it would go away. Yes, she would have to clean up the glass. If anyone asked about it, she would say she fell. Yes, she had said something that upset her child, and he had said something hurtful back. That meant they were even now. Yes, she had not been there when he needed her, but she was there now and they would have to learn to talk to each other again. And just because Vert blushed when she suggested his liking AJ didn't mean he liked boys. Even if he did, that didn't mean he was put off by girls.
Maybe he just took after his mother on that front.
"Dicks an' vaginas is like coke and pepsi," the gawky Italian sneered. "I strongly prefer one, but yer Ma thinks they taste the same!"
Janet counted backwards from ten, forcing herself not to get angry. This was not something she had actually heard the Castelucci kid say at all, let alone to her son. He had not personally insulted her. She had never even heard a friend of a friend recount his telling of such a raunchy non sequitur. She just had an overactive imagination.
But that didn't mean he was wrong, whether the Tag that said it was real or not. She and Jack weren't together when it happened. They'd had some tough times and she was on her way out of town anyway, so she broke up with him. She had her fun while she could. Janet went to Berkeley, exactly what she'd worked for. She had a few boyfriends, but far more girlfriends. When Jack came crawling back to her that night in the rain, they reconciled for good. She married a man, but that didn't mean she didn't like girls. That was why she'd been so taken with Agura, really, if she was being completely honest. Why, if Janet had been ten years younger…
"And that is also a bad thought, but for entirely different reasons," she said, putting a bagel into the toaster. Though if she was being truthful, she knew Jack would've wanted to tap that, too. She tried to shake the thoughts from her head all the same. She was bisexual, and she was unashamed. Her husband had known and had come to terms with it. But her son seemed to be struggling with some of the same things she had when she was his age, and just as she had, needed to make his own decisions; jumping to conclusions and offering unwarranted advice would not help. And lusting after her son's girlfriend was the opposite of helping.
Janet calmly sipped her coffee. Going back into parenting mode had a soothing effect and allowed her to compartmentalize her problems. This has happened, therefore don't do that. If X, then Y. No voices, no flickering lights, no demons trying to escape the mirror; just Janet and her morning coffee.
And that burning smell.
She cursed as she put down her mug, dashing for the toaster and ripped the plug from the wall. After hitting the lever a few times, slapping the toaster, and finally turning the damn thing upside down and shaking it, the crisply charred mess was finally dislodged from the slot. But it was not her bagel.
She recognized the ring. She had slipped it on his finger years before, onto the same hand she now saw before her. A hand. Not just any hand, her husband's hand, toasted—and unevenly, at that!—sat on her kitchen counter and oozed grease. Keening softly in dismay, she picked it up, burning her fingertips on Jack's wedding ring, and dropped it.
The seared hand flexed and grabbed at her wrist, and she shrieked, the hot gold scorching her flesh. Still screaming, she yanked the hand free and threw it into the dining room. It hit the china hutch with a dull thump, leaving a bloody streak as it slid down the glass cabinet door.
Janet stood there in shock, breathing heavily. That was too real. She still felt the pain. Sometimes she felt things that weren't happening. Sometimes she remembered things that hurt, and it hurt as if it were happening again. It was horrible, but it was never like this, and it never left a mark. Slowly, she crept from the kitchen, picking up a cast iron skillet as she went. She got to the dining room, and—
There was nothing there but a badly burned bagel. The bloody streak was gone.
Janet sighed with relief and her shoulders slumped. Jesus, this day was going to be exhausting. First the talking mirror, now a grabby piece of bread. She clucked in disapproval as she picked the burnt bagel off of the floor, stood up, and turned back towards the kitchen.
There he was, plain as day. Thick sludge oozed down from the gash in his handsome face where the blade had struck true. His right eye was gone, the ruined pale grey flesh around the gaping wound standing a stark contrast. His jeans and leather jacket were torn and bloody. And he looked very angry.
"Jack?" she whispered. "No. You're not here. You're still alive." She was choked back a sob. "You have to be."
"iF ͝i AiN͜'͞t ̸A gH̴oSt͞," he sneered, "tHe̶Ń h̵Ow ̢CòM̀e̡ ̶Y̢o̴U lOoK ́sO hAuǸtEd̴?̢"
Even as the apparition faded, Janet sank to her knees.
Agura was concerned.
The day was passing by quickly, and it was nearly time for lunch. He refrained from visiting her after he had come back the night before, even though it had not been particularly late. That morning, Vert had woken early and thrown himself into work. He went through the motions of being in charge, saying hello, telling various teammates to do this or that, but never saying anything personal or important. He was keeping people at arm's length.
Well, that was all fine and dandy when he was single, but Agura was his girlfriend now. Damned if she as going to let that fly!
It was when the blonde called for a lunch break that she cornered him and got the whole story, complete with exaggerated voices and sweeping hand gestures. By the time he was finished, Vert was red in the face and completely out of breath.
Agura stared blankly. "What the actual fuck."
"How the hell do you think I felt?! I'm the one she's convinced is gay!"
She shook her head, squinting and raising her hands in confusion. "Why would she even think that? I mean, I know wasn't exactly all over you at dinner, but I was trying to make a good impression." The huntress rubbed at her temple. "But you and AJ? That's just silly."
Vert blushed and looked away, nervously forcing a laugh. "Silly. Yeah. Totally silly. Never in a million years."
Agura looked at her lover in shock. Vert had never struck her as anything less than one hundred percent straight—honestly, perhaps even slightly homophobic. But… "AJ? You and AJ?"
"It was before I met you!" he blurted defensively. "It was just one night! We're just friends! I'm not gay!"
"But, you and AJ. That happened."
The blonde squirmed in discomfort. "There was a lot of alcohol involved," he said weakly. "Agura, please, it was a long time ago."
His heart pounded with fear as she took him by the hand. She was leading him further away from the rest of the team, towards the sleeping quarters. She wanted to finish this somewhere no one would hear them. Vert began to sweat as her bedroom door closed behind them.
"Agura," he said softly.
He felt her lips on his, and her hand on his chest. He leaned into the kiss, savoring it, fearing it might be the last, that the next words he heard would end them forever. He was surprised when she began peeling off his shirt, but he let her. Her soft hands kneaded the muscles of his back, pulling him closer, ever closer.
God, she always smelled like heaven. He never wanted to forget that, that wonderful scent. He never wanted to forget her nibbling on his ear, or reaching for his belt buckle, or growling for him to touch her. He never wanted to forget the way she sighed so softly when they moved together.
She was so wet he slid right in. Her breasts were a perfect weight in his hands, the sweat of her skin the perfect spice. He wanted so desperately for this to last forever, to never have to let her go. Her athletic body on top of his was the most beautiful thing he would ever see. Her breath hitched as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down further, closer, more fully onto him, and she moaned.
She was so beautiful.
Afterward, they lay together for a while, still damp with sweat. He hoped he'd never have to unwrap his arms from around her perfect body, but he knew he would. His heart was heavy. He should have known she was too good for him.
She grinned at him and snuggled closer. "Oh my god, I love you," she purred dreamily. "Okay, so what were we talking about, before I got distracted—and quite excellently, I might add?"
Vert was so sure the end was near that even the praise of his lovemaking skills couldn't cheer him particularly well. He looked glumly up from beneath his eyelashes, accepting his fate. "You wanted to know about me and AJ."
She giggled. It was such an out of character sound for Agura to make. "Yeahhhhhh," she said, nuzzling against his neck. "Guy on guy always gets me so hot…"
The blonde became very confused. "Wait, you're not breaking up with me because of the thing with AJ?"
Agura scoffed and playfully swatted his arm. "Don't be dumb, Vert. What the hell kind of sense does it make to dump your boyfriend because of who he used to date? It's not like you're still seeing AJ behind my back." She looked him right in the eye. "Right?"
"I would never cheat on you, I swear!" Vert took her hand in his and kissed it. "Babe, I love you!"
"Because as much as I'd want to kill you for that, Tezz would probably get to you first, and I'm not sure I wanna know what he'd do."
Vert laughed, holding her close, and kissing her. She always knew just how to make him feel better. The huntress was a very understanding person. Every time he got scared that he had messed up, she made everything okay. He hated being so insecure, but Agura was his rock. It was like nothing fazed her. "I love you," he said, kissing her again. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
"I love you too."
They stared into each other's eyes, and Agura grinned.
"So, details!" she exclaimed. "How was he?"
Vert sputtered in surprise, and the crimson one went red all over again. "Agura!"
"Oh, come on! Please?" she begged. "If you tell me about you and AJ, I'll tell you about me and Mathilde. It'll be an even trade!"
The blonde was given pause. "Who's Mathilde?"
Agura smiled bashfully and placed another kiss along his jawline. "We met at summer camp," she said softly. "She was from Denmark, and, boy, did she know how to have a good time…"
A few hours later, the couple finally got up from their 'afternoon nap', showered, and rejoined the team. Vert had far more of a spring in his step. All of his worries were melted away, all of the tension eased from his frame. After talking with Agura a bit, he felt a lot better. He still wasn't proud of what happened with AJ, but knowing the huntress was okay with it was a load off his mind. Refreshed and relaxed as he felt, he figured now was a good time to check on his team's progress.
Sherman was looking much better today. Vert hoped that meant he was taking it easy on the coffee and had gotten some sleep. The blonde figured Spinner had something to do with that, as he seemed to be keeping him company. If allowing the elder Cortez into the lab bothered Tezz as much as it once had, he didn't let it show, and even smiled along when Spinner smirked knowingly at the captain.
"We missed you at lunch, boss," he commented. "And Agura, too. Hmm, now, I wonder where you could have gone…?"
"They were mating," Tezz sing-songed. "I had thought that fairly obvious."
"Shut up, Tezz, nobody likes you."
"Your mother liked me well enough last night."
"Oooh! Does AJ know?"
"Of course, he was there. Who do you think was filming it?"
Vert let out a bark of surprised laughter. "Dude!" he gasped, snickering. It was good to see them getting along, but they had a lot of work to do, and the subject matter was making him nervous.
"We still haven't translated the glyphs," Sherman informed him. "But I think I was right before. It's definitely an Earth language, and definitely in the cuneiform family, but that's all we can say for sure."
Vert raised an eyebrow. "Any clues?"
"At first I thought the writing was Ugaritic, a language in the same family as Aramaic, but the sentence structure makes no sense. Some of the consonants are matched up in ways that were never used in the language, which could indicate some form of encryption..." He hesitated. "I think another unrelated language may have been transliterated into Ugaritic writing, but I'm not entirely sure. Spinner and I have been working on a phonetic translation program to help us figure it out, but it may be another week or two before we know one way or the other."
"That's a great start, Sherman. I've got a good feeling about that lead. Do whatever you guys have to." He nodded respectfully towards Sherman, but Spinner demanded a high five, and Vert relented. He turned towards the lab's other occupant. "What about you, Tezz? Any idea on that battle key?"
Tezz murmured somberly. "I have run every test on the environment of the hub, and on the composition of all previously won battle keys," he said gravely. "There was no factor that should have caused the key to dissolve. This combined with the electromagnetic interference that occurred, leads me to believe that particular key was specifically programmed to self-destruct."
"To what purpose?" Vert asked, incredulous.
"I do not know…yet. But the effect of the key's disintegration was not felt only throughout the hub. When we for pizza at Zeke's this afternoon, Grace recounted strange occurrences that she claimed took place while we were attempting to discern coordinates from the key. Earth tremors, electrical surges…"
"Zeke said objects in the kitchen started levitating," Sherman added. "We didn't believe him at first, but Hope said she saw it, too."
"Oh, man, she was twitchy," Spinner chimed in. "She said all the activity they had seemed to center around this one lady with a bad headache. Which sounds dumb, of course, and Agura told her so, but then Hope started talking about witchcraft and poltergeists—"
"I just sort of tuned her out after that," Sherman admitted. "I know she said vampires were among the most mundane things she's fought, but she's like a supernatural version of Zeke when she gets going. 'Did I ever tell you about the first evil blahblahblah…' It's annoying."
"Yeah, fine, okay. So that's the glyphs and the key," Vert said, trying to get back on topic. Even if it was a topic he dreaded, he knew it was one he couldn't avoid. "What about the statue?"
There was an eerie silence.
"I queried to Sage whether the statue or the being it depicts were anywhere within the collective knowledge of the Sentients," Tezz told him. He looked rather uncomfortable. As a student of Sentient culture, Tezz did not want to think there was anything his idols could not know. "She claims to have never seen it before. Further attempts at research were blocked, as if the information was purposefully buried. She is now making every effort to excise these blocks from within her databases."
Vert swallowed nervously. "I… I didn't want to say anything before I was sure. But, I, uh. I think I've seen that thing before."
Sherman raised an eyebrow, questioning. Tezz looked more than a little relieved; if his Blue Sentient teacher didn't know, at least his captain did. Spinner just nodded knowingly, as if he expected every word Vert was about to say.
"When my mother started…you know… Sometimes she would mutter about things in the dark—'things man was not meant to know' or something like that. And she worked out her feelings the way she always had, through her art. And she made this horrible, unholy—thing." He frowned staring at the floor. "It was a picture of Handler's Corners, seen from the cliffs surrounding Crash Canyon. Water was flooding onto the salt flats from a, a hole in the sky—I think it was a storm shock." He ran a hand through his hair staring into space. "Oh my god, she painted a storm shock."
"Captain," Tezz urged him. "The statue?"
"And there was this huge…beast¸ slimy and green and crushing the town in his claws. And he had an octopus for a head, and— That thing looked just like the statue, and I want to say it was a coincidence and I'm worrying for nothing, but we've all been through this before, and if we just look into it now and find nothing, I'll admit I was wrong and it was nothing, but if I ignore it—"
"Is the painting still at your family home?" Tezz inquired.
Vert shook his head. "I sold the painting a couple of years ago. I had to get rid of it, it gave me the creeps. I don't even remember what she called it."
" 'Dread Cthulhu Rises' ," Spinner pronounced.
Tezz and Sherman looked over to the hacker in surprise. They had become absorbed in Vert's story and forgotten Spinner was there.
"Madame Wise Raven still has the painting in her shop," Spinner said. "Even if she didn't, though, I could still tell you his name."
"Bro, what are you talking about?"
Spinner looked at him askance. "Dude, c'mon, Cthulhu? H. P. Lovecraft's octopus-faced abomination from beyond space and time? Is this not ringing any bells?"
Sherman facepalmed. "Oh, my god, you're kidding."
"Nope!" Spinner declared with a grin.
"Nope," Sherman echoed. "I'm done. Count me out. I quit!"
"Whoa, hey, guys, chill!" Vert put an arm in front of Sherman to keep him from leaving. "Let's rewind a little here. Start from the beginning. For those of us who aren't at the genius level, okay?"
Sherman groaned. "I call shenanigans!" he insisted, tossing his clipboard down on the lab table in disgust. "Vert, Cthulhu is a fictional character. Some racist white puritan with serious mommy issues made him up to sell bad pulp novels in the 1920s. He's been around so long he's in public domain. There are books, movies, roleplaying games—"
"And simply because another human heard of him long before we did, there is no way could actually exist?" Tezz asked dryly. He nodded to the elder Cortez.
On the biggest screen in the lab, larger than life and twice as ugly, was the thing from Janet's painting, rendered in grey stone. Agura's vehicle looked as tiny as a mouse crawling over the elephantine structure. Its claws reached forward menacingly.
"Imagine something like that in a battle zone," Tezz intoned.
"Yeah, and imagine that's to 1:6 scale," Spinner quipped. "They only showed him from the waist up. How big do you think he is with legs? He'd make a blue-bellied monstrosodon look like a midget in a monkey costume. I don't know if we could fight something that big."
Sherman swallowed. "I'll have to do some research on this," he said hoarsely. "Sage will want to know if what she finds matches up to a human's work."
"In the meantime, captain," Tezz said gravely, "I believe you may want to have a chat with your mother."