Tuesday, January 30th, 2018

Most of the people at the Crossroads Academy believed that Isaac Acosta was a bit of a clown, but relatively harmless aside from some issues with personal boundaries. That wasn’t exactly true, since… well, there were a lot of responses that could be used to describe a boy who deliberately murdered his own older sister when he was twelve years old. But none of those responses was anything like, ‘relatively harmless’. Many responses to learning of the boy’s acts likely would have involved shouting archaic Latin at him while sprinkling holy water onto his forehead. For all the good that would have done.

No, Isaac wasn’t possessed (not that the holy water trick would’ve helped if he was). All of his choices were his and his alone. Well, the regular choices anyway. His… employers made the big choices about what he was allowed to do and how he was allowed to entertain himself. But he chose to work with them, chose to follow their instructions. And before they had found and recruited him, he had chosen to indulge his own whims. Isabella, his sister, had been his choice. As had the others. Everyone he had killed, everyone he had enjoyed, had been his choice.

Isabella had been the first, a sort-of… test case. She was babysitting him at the time, which in her case, meant that she was babbling on her phone while watching music videos on her laptop and taking up the television for some stupid celebrity dance contest reality show. Talking on the phone, watching music videos on her laptop, and hogging the TV all at the same time. Could he really be blamed for slicing her throat with the kitchen knife? It was clearly her own fault. Clearly.

After that, it had simply been a matter of staging the scene to make everything look like someone had broken in and Isabella had been murdered while heroically putting herself between him and the intruder so that Isaac could get to safety. One broken door, muddy boot trail (accomplished by stomping around the muddy flower garden in his own father’s work boots and then carefully cleaning them), and a couple more choice bits of evidence later, and he’d simply called 911 before putting on a performance that quite frankly proved that he’d deserved to be more than a fucking tree in the sixth grade play, Mrs. Kettle.

True genius was never appreciated in its time.

Now he was appreciated, though. Now, he was working for people who saw his potential, who saw what he could do for them. And those people had repaid him by putting him into a situation where he could gain superpowers simply by doing what he liked to do anyway: kill people.

Best. Bosses. Ever.

And speaking of enjoying his work, at the moment, Isaac was doing exactly that. He was sitting at a table in the kitchen of what looked like a simple wooden cabin (the place he’d been instructed to wait for contact). His enjoyment came not from his location, of course, but from the sight of the figure struggling in front of him. The female pixie, only a few inches in height, had been pinned to the table by her wings with a couple of iron nails, like a butterfly on display.

The kicking, squirming pixie was probably trying to say something, but he’d gagged her with a tiny strip of cloth from one of his socks earlier. Because damn, she complained a lot. Occasionally pushing a finger against one of her limbs until the sound of a bone snapping was never gonna stop being fun, sure, but the shrieking had been getting a bit obnoxious. Have some damn pride and self-respect.Or at least have some common courtesy. Whining was rude.

“Someone’s been playing with his food,” a voice announced abruptly from just behind Isaac.

He jumped a bit, spinning and almost falling while jerking to his feet. Hearts (he had several by that point, thanks to the experimentation he’d done with several Jekern) beating in his chest, Isaac stared at the figure that had been behind him. “Fuck’s sake, you crazy cunt, don’t do that!”

Lies, the werewolf-Heretic (or rather, werewolf-Heretic possessed by a psychotic angel), gave him a wide, uncaring smile. “Aww, poor puppy. Should’ve used the peepers on watching for anyone coming, not playing stupid torture games.” Her hand gestured to the pinned pixie.

Rolling his eyes, Isaac gave the girl a dirty look. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t put a lot of stock in the reprimand of someone who managed to get the only thing stopping everyone from knowing the body she’s possessing is a fucking werewolf destroyed. I’m sorry, how are you still useful?”

Her subsequent grin showed a partial change into her wolf-form, revealing a mouthful of sharp, entirely canine teeth. “Britches, boy. Stay in yours and don’t try to crawl into the larger ones just yet. You’ve failed too. Don’t see your team of innocents heading for the Committee, do you?”

For a moment, Isaac glared at her, before giving a tight shake of his head. “There was nothing I could do about it. Dougie-boy used his power, the one he can only use once per day. If I erased their memories and tried again, he would’ve figured out that he’d already used his power, but couldn’t remember doing it. And you know, I’m pretty sure that the big guy in charge wants these morons looking into things that could erase their memories a lot less than he wants them to go to the Committee right this fucking second. We’ll figure out how to use them as witnesses later.”

“Maybe,” the girl replied mysteriously. “Or maybe he’ll tell you to cut your losses.” She seemed to consider that for a moment before giving a careless shrug and chirping, “We’ll find out! Cuz it’s time to go see him!” With that, Lies added a sly wink, watching him. “He summoned us.” Her hand gestured toward the door of the cabin before giving an offhand gesture toward the pixie. “And do clean up your toys. Always so terribly inconsiderate. Not like my Doxer.”

Giving a careless glance down toward the pinned pixie, Isaac flicked a knife up from his belt. “Right,” he replied easily before addressing the winged creature itself, “Just so you know, your death is going to a good cause.” Leaning close, he stage-whispered, “Because killing you freaks makes me feel really, really good.” With a wink, he brought the knife over and down to cut the tiny bitch’s head off, not all that different than tugging an ant or butterfly apart with his fingers.

The knife never made it to the target. Instead, a hand caught his wrist in an iron grip, immediately crushing the bone in a way that brought a yelp from the boy. Lies was there, holding his wrist like a vice. Before he could react more than that single yelp, she was forcing his broken wrist down and back. Isaac felt the blade shove into his own chest, unable to release the thing before the thing was embedded deep inside him. Blood gushed from the wound.

His mouth opened to gurgle a demand, when her fist struck him hard in the face. So hard, in fact, that his nose broke and the boy would have gone careening backwards and fallen to the floor if the girl’s other hand hadn’t grabbed his shoulder to keep him right where he was.

Even then, he might have defended himself, might have done something. But then the girl’s knee drove itself into his crotch, and all thought of fighting back vanished as he doubled over with a wheezing squeal of pain. Doubled over, save for the fact that her hand was still holding him up partway, just enough that she could keep hitting him.

Her fist struck his face again. Then again, and again. The girl pummeled him repeatedly, each blow knocking the boy’s head back and rattling his brain, adding to the unbelievable pain in his nether regions. He felt the blood on her hand from his shattered nose as she kept hitting him, lost in some kind of psychotic, violent freak-out. He couldn’t get a word in edgewise, couldn’t even lift a hand to defend himself in his surprise. Blows continued to hammer down on him over and over again.

As suddenly as it had started, the attack stopped. Blinking through his bloodied daze, the boy saw Lies abruptly freeze up. She went completely still before her expression twisted. “Not… let… my… not…” The words, confusing as they were, came through harshly gritted teeth.

She turned then. Her hand, shaking violently as if she had no idea how to actually use it, snapped down toward the table. Snatching the nails out of the pixie’s wings, she grabbed the little freak before turning. A quick throw sent the thing flying out the nearby window, while Lies blurted a short, strangled entreaty, a single word. “Run!”

A choked sound escaped Isaac then, as he slumped against the table, too weak to stand and in far too much pain to think straight. The sound became a chuckle, his blood-covered hands fumbling to catch the handle of the knife in his chest. “Not… totally a puppet yet, huh… Pace?” he asked through the pain, finally managing to grip the handle so he could slowly pull the damn thing out, breath hitching a bit as he did so. Everything hurt, especially down below. But his healing was taking care of it.

The girl, who hadn’t moved since throwing the pixie out the window, gave a sharp jerk. Her head snapped first to one side, then the other. Bringing both hands up, she slammed them down against her own legs and gave a short, almost squawk-like sound, which morphed into a laugh. “Whoo, whoo!” she repeated a couple times while giving a full-body shudder from head to toe. “What a rush. Whoo!” Another shudder and her head gave a violent shake before she clapped her hands a couple times. “Jeeze, Pacey Pace really didn’t like that, huh? Strong. Wow.”

Pace. It had been the real Pace. Somehow, she’d taken control again and stabbed Isaac before he could end that stupid fucking pixie. After realizing that, it took him another couple minutes to recover. Ripping the remains of his shirt off, he balled it up and pushed the cloth against his wound to hold in his own blood while counting on his super-charged regeneration (one of the side-benefits from all the extra killing he’d been doing) to take care of the worst of the problem. Eventually, it seemed to be under control. But it still hurt like a bitch.

Spitting blood, the boy snarled, “You know how lucky-ugh–” Stopping for a second to collect himself once more, he gritted through the pain. “You know how lucky you are that I’ve got redundant organs, huh? That cunt could’ve really killed me there.”

Her response to that was an amused giggle. “Could’ve died, didn’t die. I’m not lucky, you are.”

“Hey,” he snapped then, giving the little bitch a dark, annoyed look. “You can’t keep that little puppet in line, sounds like something the big guy needs to know about before something-”

Before Isaac could get any further, he found himself under assault once more. This time, it was definitely Lies in control. Her hand grabbed hold of his throat, nails digging painfully through the skin as she glared at him. “You won’t tell anyone,” she hissed. “Pacey Pace wants you dead. Make me mad, and she and I will be best friends. Understand? Don’t make me agree with her.”

Grimacing a little, Isaac twisted until she released his throat. Rubbing it with one bloody hand, he muttered, “Fine, whatever. You fuck up the mission, it’s on you. Not like I really give a shit. Now, you gonna go get that little bug before she gets away, or what?”

“Eh,” the wolf-girl sniffed once before shrugging. “Gone now. Not my problem. Bad for you if Mr. Boss finds out, so maybe don’t be telling him bad things about me, and I won’t be telling him bad things about you.”

The two of them stood there glaring at one another for a moment before Lies snapped her fingers (or Pace’s fingers, whatever) and gave a sharp jerk of her head toward the cabin door. “Time to go. Can’t be late for our very important date. Not that I would date you. I like my boys more…” She paused, seeming to consider it for a moment before finishing with, “… stable.”

“Yeah?” Isaac gave a pointed nod toward his bare, bloodied torso. “Well I’m pretty sure that boss of yours won’t like me showing up to his little debriefing looking like this. I need a shirt.”

Waggling two of her fingers in his face, the green-haired Hispanic girl replied with a sing-song taunt. “Aw, psycho-boy didn’t prepare. Not a good boy scout, psycho-boy. Always prepare.” Her head nodded toward the other door in the small cabin. “There,” she instructed. “Find your size. Have to be prepared, don’t know what body I might be in later. Might be yours.” That was added with an appraising look. “Hope not. Bad hair. Creepy eyes. Murder-hands. I do have standards.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Right,” Isaac muttered as he walked to the other door. It led into a small bedroom with an attached bath area, and along the walls were several dressers. The bitch was right, she had clothes of all shapes and sizes in there. It wasn’t hard to find something that would fit him. Before pulling it on, however, he took a short detour into the bathroom to wash all of the blood off his chest and face. Once he was relatively clean, the boy tugged on the fresh shirt and walked back out. “Right, let’s go see the big man. Though,” he added pointedly, “I don’t see why Fetch isn’t here. He let it happen too.”

“He’s important,” Lies informed him flatly. “You’re not. In the order of expendable ones, the big guy would rather like… a hundred of you die before one of the Fetch. That’s why you have this job, because you’re expendable. No crying if you die. Just get another one.”

“Yeah, fuck you too,” he retorted. They might think he was expendable, but he was learning. He was learning more than they probably wanted him to. He was paying attention, watching everything they did. He knew that they were low on options for this mission. That was the whole reason he was being included in the first place. Manakel, the angel-fuck, the one that showed up and took over after that Paschar guy recruited him, wasn’t accustomed to Earth, where he had to hide what he was constantly. No, Manakel was used to the way things were back in the angel-world, where they were lords and masters over everything and all other species were their servants. Using people like Isaac to get what he wanted, that’s what Manakel was accustomed to. And whoever they were fighting, whoever the angels were so obsessed with beating… unless he missed his guess, Manakel’s people weren’t exactly winning that particular war.

From what he’d been able to piece together, mostly from the angels treating him like a disposable idiot who turned deaf and dumb on command, they needed Avalon dead so they could use that teacher that was in a coma in the hospital to get into some vault. He had no idea what was in the vault, except that it was important enough that they were pretty desperate to get to it. Except whatever protection spell had been put on the bouncy-chested bitch was strong enough that if she was killed, everyone responsible for her death (not just the person who pulled the trigger, but also whoever had ordered it) would be marked. It was some kind of elaborate magic that would be powered by the girl’s own death. Whatever, he didn’t know how it worked, exactly. What he did know was that the only reason he hadn’t been told to slit her throat himself kamikaze-style was that the spell would lead not only to him, but also to Manakel for ordering it.

They had thought that the spell was cast by that old guy, Pericles. But even with him cold and six feet under, the spell was still kicking. Last Isaac knew, Manakel and the other angels had been arguing over whether the one responsible for the spell was the headmistress, a somehow-secretly-still-alive Pericles, or someone else. Trying to figure it out was driving them nuts. It was actually kind of fun to watch, as long as he stopped himself from reacting to any of it.

In any case, his job was to get his team to go tattle about Gaia’s secret activities to the Committee, so they had an excuse to remove her from power. The original plan for that had been for him to pick a member of his team, kill them, and then find a way to blame it on that Flick chick. Unfortunately, he didn’t get to actually have any of his fun before Roxa disappeared. Manakel thought it would be a waste not to use that, and had ordered Isaac to guide his team toward blaming Flick for what had happened. It was a task that had been made infinitely easier when Doug had ended up with the power from that juvenile Epsiteme. All of a sudden, it wasn’t Isaac trying to find a way to get them to blame Flick for it. They were doing it all by themselves. All he had to do was keep nudging them toward investigating, but not confronting. And, of course, erasing their memories any time they decided to go off and do something else that didn’t fit with the plan.

Getting them to the point where they’d willingly bypass Gaia to go to the Committee and tattle about it was tricky, but he’d almost been there with the revelation that Flick’s dad had a vampire living in his house. At least, he’d been there until they suggested the idea of actually talking to Flick about it yet again. And that time, Isaac couldn’t just erase the idea and start over, because fucking Doug went and used his power at the worst possible time, screwing everything up.

And now he had to go and explain that to Manakel yet again. Maybe Isaac should just get ‘not my fucking fault’ tattooed on his forehead and be done with it.

One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to mention the missing pixie. He’d found her on his own, so there was no reason to tell the already-annoyed head angel guy about her escape.

Stepping through the door of the cabin with the psycho-possessed-chick led to a tiny island. Much smaller than the one the school was on, to the point that he could easily throw a rock from one side to the other. It was barely big enough for the cabin and a small beach that surrounded it. According to Charmeine, the island was one of several ‘bolt-holes’ that were semi-connected to the same pocket-dimension that the school’s island was in. There were a few different ways to get to it from the main island, if you knew what you were doing.

At the edge of the tiny beach there was a small boat that was tied to a single wooden post. Stepping into the boat before taking a seat, Isaac lounged back as much as possible while gesturing for the girl to go ahead. “Post-modern feminism and all that,” he drawled easily. “Wouldn’t dream of taking away your right to work.”

Lies stepped into the boat, giving him a short look before producing a small gold coin from her pocket. Using her thumb, she flicked the coin down into the bottom of the boat, between them. It bounced once, then seemed to melt into the surface, disappearing almost immediately.

A second later, the boat started to move seemingly by itself. Lies remained standing, giving him a disdainful look through pretty much the entire five minute trip until the boat bumped up against the dock of a slightly larger island. Another one in the pocket dimension, secretly connected to Crossroads.

Two figures stood on the dock waiting for them as they disembarked. Manakel, a man who looked a lot like that actor, James Spader, and Charmeine, a tall, dark-skinned woman with short white hair. Neither looked that happy.

“So, I gotta ask,” Isaac started as soon as he was on dry ground. “Those new stooges that just showed up from the Committee, October and Patrick? One of those guys is working for you, right? Cuz I gotta tell you, there are a lot of rumors going around about those guys.”

“Isaac, Isaac, Isaac,” Manakel tutted while stepping that way to put an arm around him. “Now, you know I can’t tell you that. Where would our operational security be? Just like I can’t tell our other agents about you. Come, have you eaten? We have a marvelous spread inside.”

Leading Isaac into the much larger cabin and to a table that was, indeed, laden with more food than all of them could’ve eaten in a week, the man urged him to take part. When Charmeine started to bring up the mission, Manakel waved her off. “After,” he ordered. “Pleasure first. I do enjoy a good meal, don’t you?” he added the last with a look toward the boy.

“Sure,” Isaac replied slowly while filling his plate. “I love gluttony. It’s my third-favorite sin, after wrath and lust. Which, you’d be surprised how often those two go together.”

“Very little about you would surprise me, Mr. Acosta,” Manakel informed him. “Very little indeed.” His look turned intense for a brief second before he shifted his eyes toward Lies. “My dear, aren’t you going to eat? There’s plenty, as you can see.”

“No thanks,” she replied easily. “I wouldn’t want to take up any of the poison that he’s supposed to get.”

While Isaac reflexively dropped the piece of chicken from his mouth, Manakel barked a short, genuine laugh. “Oh, she’s teasing you, my boy. She’s teasing you. No, if we wanted you dead, there would be no need for poison. You’re not a um, a threat, you see?” He leaned forward a bit, his tone dropping slightly. “No, if I wanted you dead, you never would have made it off the boat. And I certainly wouldn’t have you in here. A body, lying over this beautiful assortment of delights, are you mad?”

So they ate. Or Manakel and Isaac did, in any case. Lies stayed away from the table despite her boss’s words, and Charmeine seemed content to sit and watch him, plate empty.

Eventually, Manakel set down his fork, cocking his head a little bit before looking toward Isaac. “I have… asked you to do one thing. And that one thing was to ensure that these humans that you work with would take what they see and go to the Crossroads Committee. Thus far, I have been… unimpressed with your results. Now, that is not to say that you’re not trying. But the options we have as this failure continues are rapidly dwindling. At this point, we’re pretty much down to two possibilities. Either this is beyond your capability, and you are of no use. Or you aren’t trying hard enough. I would prefer it be the second option. That, at least, may be corrected.”

“Hey, I told you,” Isaac started. “There wasn’t anything I could do about it once that jackass used th–”

“One thing you should understand about me,” Manakel interrupted, “is that I abhor vulgarity as much as I do excuses. So please, content yourself to offering neither. Simply answer the question. It is a binary choice. Have you tried as hard as you can, or should you be trying a bit harder?”

Mouth opening and then shutting, Isaac finally gritted out, “I’ll try harder.”

“Excellent,” the man replied, giving a small smile before plucking up his fork to take another bite. Swallowing it, he used the fork to gesture toward Isaac. “You can start with this new mission. This trip to New York, it presents an opportunity for a boy of your… pursuits.”

“Well, now you got my attention,” Isaac replied, lifting an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be pissed that they were going there. You do know they want to have a sit down chat with that girl, right?”

“Indeed.” Giving a thin, humorless smile, Manakel continued. “Fortunately, you are going to ensure that meeting never happens. Now, let me make this clear. A moment ago, when you agreed that you should be trying harder, this will be the time to raise that effort. Because if you fail this time, I…” He paused then, seeming to consider his next words for a moment. “I will spend as much time as it takes to ensure that you forget that a state other than unimaginable pain exists. I will set your body aflame and keep you alive through it, because you will not be allowed to die until I am satisfied. You are a miserable, lecherous little creature whom I despise. So give me one more reason to doubt your capability to perform these tasks, and my utter disdain for you will outweigh my need to use you. Do you understand?”

There were no smart remarks. Not at that point. Isaac simply gave a short nod. “Yes.”

The man’s demeanor shifted just as suddenly as it had changed before. He sat back, smiling slightly. “Excellent. Then there won’t be a problem.”

Looking toward Lies/Pace then, the man gave a soft smile. “As for you my dear…” A tutting noise escaped him as his head shook. “What are we going to do with you? The weres may be an alpha version of the much more useful Heretics, but they were still useful in their own way. And you–well, you kind of lost them. Lemuel is dead, as are a large number of his most important people. Of the rest who survived, they’ve all scattered. And,” he added, “Let’s not forget the part where the choker that allows you to operate within the Heretic ranks was destroyed.”

“Destroyed though,” the girl piped up. “Not stolen.”

The man gave a light, seemingly-honest chuckle. “Yes,” he replied with a smile that showed his teeth. “Yes, it was. And that’s the only reason you’re still alive, isn’t it?”

There was no response, and Manakel leaned back, taking a bite or two of his food while making a noise of enjoyment. “Mmmm, it really is delicious. You both should be indulging. You’re young,” he added with a broad smile. “Enjoy it.”

After another bite, he set the fork down and looked toward Lies. “We’ll find another job for you. I don’t throw away things that might still be useful. And you, my dear, could still be very useful indeed.”

His attention moved to Isaac then. “As for you, we’ll use this trip to our advantage. You’ll go to New York. Before this ‘meeting’ has a chance to take place, you will ensure that Miss Chambers and each member of your team aside from yourself and Mr. Fetch are all in possession of one of these.”

Laying his hand on the table, he lifted it to reveal several small, marble-sized orbs that seemed to be made out of crystal. “Once you have secretly placed one on each of their persons, you will break the last one.”

“Yeah?” Isaac’s eyes moved from the orb to the man’s face and back again. “Why? What do they do?”

It was Charmeine who answered. “Breaking the final orb will take everyone that’s closest to the other orbs and banish all of them from Earth and any pocket-dimension connected to it, sending them clear across the universe. Far beyond the reach of any magic or power that could be used to track them down.”

“Our goal,” Manakel added, “which you and Mr. Fetch will assist with through your own testimony, is to create the illusion that Miss Chambers recruited your teammates to join a… rebellion against Crossroads. You and your team leader objected, a fight ensued, and your traitorous teammates, along with the girl herself, fled.”

“They’ll look for them,” Charmeine put in then. “But they won’t find them. And losing three-quarters of a Freshman team because the Chambers girl took off with them… yeah, that’ll get the headmistress in pretty hot water.”

“Hot water,” Manakel finished, “which our ever-so-eager, yet unknowing friend Gentleman Ruthers will seize upon as a pretense for removing Gaia Sinclaire from her position so that he can install his own loyal puppet in her place. And without Sinclaire corrupting our system, this school will return to its primary purpose: creating loyal soldiers who kill anything and everything we point them toward.”

“Now, see, this was a lot of great food and all,” Isaac started while gesturing at the assortment still covering the table.

“But what you just said? That sounds absolutely delicious.”