“—That was—I—I’m not even sure what that was!” the lady reporter’s blonde fringe had to be adjusted with her slightly trembling fingers. But she turned to the camera, regaining her composure. “We have just seen most of the crowd at the town hall scream bloody murder at Mayor Huntington’s declaration—postponing the 250th Founding Festivities and establishing a 9 PM curfew until further notice. Surely, I’m not the only one that’s not seeing this, right--?!”
“And wh-wha-what’s currently happening right now, Cindy?” there was a cut back to the newsroom, as the old male anchor with platinum white hair turned towards the “screen” that featured Cindy the reporter.
Cindy then turned, still trying in vain to straighten her fringe just right as she looked “offscreen”.
“Thankfully, we’re parked as far away as possible from this s—Okay, this just in,” Cindy turned back to the camera. “The major has been escorted safely away from the premises, and law enforcement has arrived on the scene. No signs of a riot or violence breaking out so far. Only… Some screaming and—” She pressed her earpiece in, making a confused face, “W-whimpering, live reports say—Nearly in tears, folks!”
“Clearly, there’s some ties here—” the other news anchor briefly appeared as they cut back to the studio, one could barely make out her features in time.
“Finally, now we’re speaking the same language now!” Cindy didn’t just cut her co-worker off, but she talked over here as she agreed with her. “Sprees of social unrest—clear evidence of multiple people being in on these bouts of ultra-violence—and now once the party’s over, we have most of the audience wailing out?! I’m sorry, but until we get more updates about this pending situation—”
Cindy angled the hand with which she held her mic downward, freeing her index to point. This signaled an infographic to be hastily bumped onto the live broadcast: “Cindy Robinson’s Cutting Commentary” flashed with bold-faced, 3D lettering that was dual-toned red and yellow, with a miniature cartoon caricature of the woman leaned forward on the side of it. Same white suit with black undershirt, same blonde hair done up in a bun that rose from the back of her head with a sweeping fringe, and same makeup-covered, self-righteous scowl. A two-framed animation of her stomping her foot with her hands on her hips to tie it all off.
“—But you can’t refute any of that! Not one bit! This confirms that we’ve been invaded by freaks—or at the very least, turns out our next-door neighbors have been freaks under our own noses! Our children trusted people that wanted to massacre them! Whatever this is—cult, some new-fangled belief, the internet—our actions can’t just stop at curfews. Once we wrangle up these freaks, we get them to out anyone that managed to wrangle out of our eyes by hiding in plain sight! And keep going until we are safe again!”
Good thing these self-absorbed people kept prattling on. Because it filled the dreadful dead air that caked Mrs. Moses' living room.
Calypso was afraid to turn her head. She prayed that her stoney face was frozen in this moment, because she knew that her heart was pounding so visibly, that her vision started to waver.
Nevertheless, she glanced at Uncle Bradley, then to Moses, and the faintest read of Natalie on her side.
Bradley was looking directly at the broadcast, his hands not just on his hips, but they were gripping at them. He was always such a warm, above-it-all type, so to see his face fraught with stoic unease made Calypso’s stomach turn.
Mrs. Moses in turn had her hands rested on the Tome, occasionally drumming her fingers against the living leather. Looking downward, her glasses reflected the light--rendering her eyes unreadable, but her brow was scrunched in… Rueful contemplation. Surely she was running through the various scenarios that were about to happen in an hour or so.
Natalie had her hand over her mouth. Not in shock, but resting in a way that indicated… Intrigue? Her eyes squinted, she seemed impatient—maybe wanting the bores to be done with their yammering to get a new update? Calypso wanted to nudge her, to make her quit being so obvious, but clearly—fate had other plans.
“That does it—” Bradley stopped, turned towards the couch—basically everyone else in the room besides him and Moses. “I know it’s 7 now, but we’re havin’ an improv sleepover startin’ now. Ya’ll girls bunch up in the attic ‘til sunrise an’ only leavin’ ta’ take care of things and yerselves—nobody ain’t leaving the house unless absolutely necessary.”
He turned towards Moses, “Sorry fer not askin’ first, but I’m sure that yer good with all that?”
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Mrs. Moses only nodded, shaken. Calypso was more distressed at this being the cover or real or not.
“Yeah, I’m calling Penny right now and telling her to bunk at a Motel 6 or something—” Artemis was just in earshot of the skeletal monster girl. Which surprised her, because she was going a mile a minute, at least Natalie was intelligible. “Can already hear her now—‘They smell of depravity and ruined futures’—well, there’s screaming serial killers on the loose: at least we were raised to handle shady fuckers. Oh my god, why is this happening—why the fuck is this happening all of a…”
Calypso had that thought echo within her fervent mind as well. Even if Moses provided an alibi or method of escape, at least Gale and her still haven’t conquered their transformations enough to hold them back. The skeletal monster girl only had the clue Richard told Natalie—how she was gifted with transformation, but from such language it seemed to veer into “you transform faster than usual”. But it wasn’t like they could openly talk about it or the hell that seemed to be directly coming from them.
Surrounded. Calypso was completely surrounded. By her enemies. By her loved ones. By the Fates That Be, that seem to favor screwing her by any means necessary.
As she gritted her teeth, she let a pained breath escape from them, her body tensed in a jerk. Once again, using her faint but raw emotional surges to her advantage.
“It’s happening again…” Calypso just covered her face, for an added bonus. “OH GOD, IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN--!”
She got up, ran forward towards where Moses was, and luckily enough, landed where she was. “Burying” her face into her professor’s chest.
She heard the flurry of comments. Bradley urging Sal to turn the TV off, Artemis asking what’s going on now—and while the fact she couldn’t hear her normally loud cousin was a massive problem—she heard the voice she needed in that moment.
“I’m sure that you understand how bad this is turning out,” Mrs. Moses whispered to her student. “For now, we wait and we see. Hopefully, when they’re all tired, we assess the situation. But until then, bring forth your gemstone. Keep it close, in your hands. All of the surge of wicked energy that takes you over? Pour it into the stone. Tell the others this and keep the façade. They need it right now.”
***
“Al’ight girls—now that the adults are all gone down the stairs an’ whatnot—we can do whatever we want! Truth or Dare—Spin the Bottle—we can even talk ‘bout boooooys~!”
Calypso could already note how much Sal was pushing back, by getting loud—by pouring her everything into her energy, normally so far… But due to being in a wooden, boxed-in room, it made the stress, anger, and fear almost tangible.
The place wasn’t the best, because it kinda wasn’t meant to. The girls were all sitting on the pull-out bed that was hooked up to the wall where the window sill hovered above, giving one a quaint look into the night’s skies. Most of the room was covered in tacky tarps because they would’ve been thrown away sheets if Mrs. Moses wanted to—floral patterned, and still had fragments of dust. The wood itself, while painted to be—of course—seafoam green, but the coat was withering away. Two wide chests framed themselves on each side of the bed and a navy carpet that barely covered the rough floorboards.
“I mean,” Sal cut herself off as she suddenly chuckled, as if she herself couldn’t believe that she was continuing this façade. “This is basically the Four Seasons, eh—The penthouse suite! We can be ‘Gals Gone Wild’--!”
“Sally…” Calypso sounded strained. And it wasn’t an act.
“What’s up Cally? You only just nearly died an’ all! Simply the best for ya’, spare no expense--!”
“Sally. Please…”
“—Quick thinkin’ is all it is! Quick thinkin’, an’ foresight an’—just—what the fuck are they thinkin’, man?!”
Gale whimpered audibly, while Natalie did a mix of a wince and a jump. But Calypso remained resolute. Aching from the inside, but stoic in the face of this anger.
After all. She had practice weathering anger. Quickly glanced down at her gemstone, rubbing the red gash that was in the middle of it.
“Keepin’ us safe by havin’ us on the top floor so we can climb on the rooftop or somethin’ other—sure! Fine!” Sal had to pant in between her rant, adjusting her worn hat and brushing hair from her face as she kept turning about. “—But don’t they understand that we should be together?! That we’re scared?! Actin’ like heroes an’—an’ actin’ like we can’t just talk or somethin’ about this! It’s just--!”
Calypso grabbed her cousin’s shoulder with her free hand. “Sally.”
“Don’t you ‘Sally’ me—like they did—”
“And I’m not going to do that like they did. We’re talking—we’re talking, right? That’s already a plus with your rules. And not only that… Had this been me having a breakdown, you’ll flurry all your words of encouragement to get me to calm myself. Shoe’s on the other foot and I’m doing it to you, so suck it.”
Calypso flashed her lazy, smug smile at Sal. The latter sighed, in defeat.
“Dangnabbit…” Sal crossed her arms, pouting not unlike Calypso would. “Taste of my own medicine’s dookie—straight dookie—”
“Oh my god…”
Both cousins turned their gaze at a stunned Gale, more or less in sync.
“You really are cousins…” Gale laughed after, shaking her head. “Right down to using the same words, dude…”
“Yeeeeah, I thought I remembered her saying that a day ago,” Natalie joined into the conversation with a sideways smile.
Calypso saw the opportunity pressed, and shook her head, rubbing the back of it. “Like I told you guys… We’re practically sisters. She knows me and I know her, better than both our parents on some level… I literally wouldn’t be halfway tolerable if it wasn’t for her slapping me and forcing me to give up... Some of my melodramatic tendencies. A miracle worker, in every sense of the term. That’s all…”
Sal took a pregnant pause, looking toward her cousin. With a relaxed puff, forming a small smile, and moved about to bring her left leg in so she could hold it.