There have been many settlements on Izanami in its almost 1000-year history. Most of them are essentially ghost settlements that fell abandoned due to planetary strife—or they just got absorbed by the massive city of Saint Century. Only five different cities remain Saint Century, Johhansontown, Millerton Bay, Madrono City, and Stellarcorp Estates. Although one is considered condemned and off-limits, for a good reason, it’s technically still a populated city. Izanami is a planet with a singular mass continent surrounded by two oceans, with the rest of the planet peppered with medium to small-sized islands that mostly stay uninhabited. Its discovery during the 23rd century heralded so much joy, hope, and optimism. Now, nearly a thousand years strong, we can see exported earth-based animals that have assimilated quickly to the planet. Yet, Izanami is home to many of its native biological species. Some are benign, others…not so much.
From “Our World,” a nature documentary that premiered this week.
Saint Century City.
Capital of Izanami.
Beacon of hope that has always stood no matter what has changed around it in the last 900-plus years. Consistent across governments, social movements, riots, and skirmishes between competing factions, it is the most incredible legacy left behind by the first 100. Those brave explorers, scientists, and ultra-rich who first set foot on the planet. Today marks the celebration of that founding, of the groundbreaking that named the settlement and ushered those chaotic first few decades:
The Zero Year Centennial.
Once every hundred years, Izanami celebrated its founding, but those who live in Saint Century partied the hardest. Ancestors of the first 100 are given big play on this day, yet so few of them remain. Some families were down to their last member, with names forgotten in history.
However, one family still thrived across centuries; across generations: The Shaws. Look through a sanctioned history book, and you’ll find a Shaw at the center of some milestone or another. Every iteration of the Izanami government had Shaw representation, royal dynasties in all but title. Jackson Shaw was the latest, relatively speaking.
The patriarch of the Shaw family was Delano Shaw, one of the original 100. He was a geneticist who made great strides in organic foods being grown to completion within The Bleed. Crops that generally took months to develop, and required specific conditions, would be done in hours.
It changed the game.
Delano was also a shrewd businessman and capitalized on his invention, and he married fellow pioneer Ash Bowser, a death-defying explorer and self-help guru back on old earth. The two quickly started a family, and it’s the longest-lasting lineage still thriving. The Shaw Family was a constant like the city itself.
They were, for all intents and purposes, Saint Century.
Jackson Shaw was a tall skinny beanpole who filled out his suit no better than a skeleton would. He had gaunt features and jet-black hair that made him look far younger than the 100 he currently was. With that, and cosmetic procedures alongside AUG implants that regulated his sirtuin proteins, the man didn’t look a day over 40. He was so skinny on account of the simple fact that he didn’t really need food per se at this point. His stomach was purely artificial—stomach cancer—and he lived on what could charitably be called “nutrient paste.”
Mr. Shaw, as he liked to be called, was among the majority shareholders of the board, along with his half-sister, Jaime. His father had married her mother, forming the Shaw-Kreuger conglomerate with a combined 67% controlling interest in the government. They fought hard for that. Jackson was considered a counter-revolutionary for his time, 60 or so years ago, orchestrating the downfall of The People’s Republic of Izanami, who themselves had wrestled power from the original Izanami Provincial government about 188 years ago, give or take.
The original 100’s government lasted 700 years. And while much fighting marked the next 200 or so, Saint Century survived it all.
And so have The Shaws.
Today Jackson Shaw was to be honored, surrounded by his close friends, family, and confidants. The press was here, too, as stuff like this got you tons of clicks. The Zero Year Centennial, as was tradition, was the talk of the town and had everyone’s attention. As for what the award was, well, who’s to say? It was all made-up nonsense one way or another. The point wasn’t the prize itself; it never is. The point is, was, and always would be, the extravagance.
The Shaw estate, located atop the Cherry Building, is actually only the 5th tallest sky scraper in Saint Century. An old-style gothic mansion riding atop a 200-story tall geometrically shaped steel tower overlooked the Maury Ocean, the largest body of water on the planet. The water below crashed into the beach angrily. The tides were wild and sent many adventurous swimmers flying back to shore.
At the house, servers weaved in among the guests as various board members took turns fellating Jackson and his family for all they’ve done. For all that they sacrificed to give humanity, not just Saint Century but Izanami. Jackson stood at the head of the gathering, flanked by his 20th wife and 4th eldest daughter. Both were equally as artificial as Jackson was, so much their skin seemed almost porcelain in composition.
Off somewhat behind the menagerie was Jaimie Shaw. She was under 5 feet tall and unassuming. Her brunet locks were styled straight as a highway, with bangs that cut across the bridge of her brow perfectly straight and framed her face in a perfect square. She was dressed modestly in a two-piece suit and a short coat that hugged her waist. She was happy that her half-brother enjoyed doing these things, as she certainly did not.
All eyes were on Jackson as he joined the presenter and fellow board members at the center of the room. The event, broadcast across The Bleednet, was doing big numbers in Saint Century alone, but they were strong even as far out as Millerton Bay.
2.5 million people saw the wall behind Jackson and the rest of the group crack and implode upon itself. It had been adorned with the most beautiful floral arrangements and was gone instantly. Dust from the wall materials filled the room and caused several people to gag violently. A shape appeared just beyond the smoke, beyond the wall.
Then another. And another; until there were six. One shape finally stepped through, and it was a young boy who couldn’t be older than 16. His hair was jet black and wild, flowing upward like a short geyser. He had lion-colored skin, thick eyebrows, and a soft baby face; his name was Felix though his friends called him Cosmic Rivera.
“Dope,” He said. “That'll bring him, for sure!” He wore a long black compression shirt covering his arms and black forearm-length gloves. Yellow accents lined the seams and collar, along with black and yellow pants stuffed into an oversized pair of boots. Another shape moved behind him, this one a female and practically the same age. She bounced as she walked and chewed gum obnoxiously.
“Gresh, I can’t wait,” she said while she leaned on the young boy's shoulder. Her name was Yvette, but everyone she knew called her EVE. “We’ve been so bored.” She was dressed similarly to the boy, except her shirt did not cover her belly, and she wore a sharp leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was bright red and looked like thick flat noodles.
“Bring who?” Jackson asked, standing with a pinched expression, crossed arms, and a clenched jaw. Literal children, he grumbled. The smoke cleared enough that Jackson could make out the other shapes. The other four wore similar black gear with yellow accents, each with a unique style. Two presented as boys, two as girls.
The tallest boy had light brown skin and black hair styled in a half-moon with short twists; they called him FaultOne. The other boy was covered head to toe, with a full face mask and jumpsuit combo, but melted away into a dripping liquid, water-like in its consistency; The Leak. The two girls were opposites. One appeared to be on fire; her skin was orange, raw, and burnt; her hair was a dancing flame on a matchstick head, and her eyes were as black as ash. She was called Slow Burn. The last girl had condensation escape from her lips with every breath she took; they called her ZB-Low.
Most of the people watching this display recognized them instantly: They were the Zero Year Soldiers, and the last time anyone had seen hide or hair of them was about 15 years ago.
But, to the most observant viewer, it looked like they hadn’t aged a day.
“Captain Steel, man!” Rivera had finally answered Jackson. “Bro, like what?”
Fifteen years ago, this crew had descended upon Saint Century just looking to cause a scrap. They presented to the public as bored OH teens who liked to shake things up and, once, had beat the smugness off of Justice Jones before finally getting slapped down by the great Captain Steel. Once in custody, it came out that they were all born on the same day back in 3100, on the 900th anniversary of the Zero Year.
Which meant their 30th birthday was today.
How they all found each other and hooked up became another mystery. While in custody, the sextet had vanished, never to be seen again. They were the subject of wild conspiracy theories for quite a few years afterward until the next new hot topic du jour came up. The sight of them being here quickly set The Bleednet on fire. Near instantaneously, the streaming link got shared across multiple social media sites. Suddenly 2.5 million viewers became 3.5, and so on.
“Captain Steel is dead!” Someone shouted, and the color drained from all six kids’ faces, even Slow Burn. The Leak shifted next to Cosmic Rivera, who had a hand on his chin in contemplation.
“Dead?” Rivera muttered. “No way! You foolin!” The other five all shrugged in unison, unsettling anyone who noticed. Felix thought some more and perked up a bit, feeling somewhat inspired. He strolled up to Jackson and grabbed him by the lapel of his collar, and said:
“So, who's the big bad now, huh?”
“That’d be me,” came a voice from behind them. It floated confidently beyond the hole they had created and belonged to Corina Kyle. Her pink hair was short, chin-length, and cut into a bob with an on-point set of bangs, yet she was unmistakable. Her coat was slightly different, with an oversized collar, burgundy pants, grey boots, and a large muted gold sash tied around her waist, yet she was still unmistakable.
She was Lady Steel, the most powerful human being in the galaxy. Her arms folded across her chest; her face was all business. She floated down to the floor, and the kids gave her room but were licking their lips. They were sharks, circling.
Her grey boots touched down gently, and she put her hands on her hips. She wasn’t stupid; she knew when people were itching for a fight. And if that’s what they wanted…well.
She cracked her knuckles.
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Cosmic Rivera acted first. The boy stuck his chest out and exploded Bleed energy from it. The volley was blood red; it looked alive, oily, and thick. It shot out directly at Corina, but she dodged it deftly. It sailed past her and continued unabated before coming to a dead stop at the skyscraper next door 400 feet away. Part of its outer wall caved in on itself and shook the building down to its foundation, but it continued to stand.
Corina lowered her shoulder, checked Cosmic Rivera with it, and sent him flying 10 feet, causing the crowd to disperse in his wake. It was utterly not shocking that the rabble hadn’t run, as the .5% never missed a free show. That’s all they thought she was suitable for; Corina knew that. She and her brother were the circus and were always in town.
Corina felt her back get extremely hot. Slow Burn had tossed fire in her direction and charbroiled her sash into a cinder; Corina ignored it. She bent down and grabbed one of Cosmic Rivera’s legs as she fixed to toss the gangly teen toward his buddies. A cold chill crept under her collar, and she shivered a bit as cold air collided with her hand clasped around his ankle.
“Dude!” Cosmic Rivera, eyes wide, shouted at ZB-Low, who immediately turned red. Corina flexed and popped the ice like cheap glass.
“Okay, kids,” She said. “Time for bed.”
A solid beam of electrified plasma collided with her side, and Corina felt her shoulder compress as if a giant fist had clobbered her; she lost her footing and dropped to one knee. EVE held her hands out in front of herself and smirked. Seeing an excellent big opening, Cosmic Rivera jumped onto her back and hung on in a chokehold. He grinned, tongue sticking out like a wild dog.
FaultOne leered, having not moved since the melee began, and knelt to touch the ground. The building started to shake. He pictured the spot they were standing at in his mind. The floor under them gave way and crumbled, sending Corina and Cosmic Rivera tumbling to the bottom below. Corina oriented herself perfectly, so he landed first, breaking her fall and expelling all the air out of his lungs. She rolled off him and started coughing.
“…dude…” The word barely escaped from his lips before he groaned and lost consciousness.
Upstairs, the remaining Zero Year Soldiers decided now was the time for hostages. EVE had assumed the alpha role and started directing traffic. The Leak became a small-scale tidal wave, enough to fill half the room, and swept up a group of guests in his wake, setting them up perfectly for ZB-Low to suspend in an ice wall. He’d be stuck there until he thawed, but he was honestly used to it. Slow Burn started setting fire to the tapestries, quite pleased with herself.
Jackson Shaw seethed under the ice, his day ruined. The audacity.
FaultOne and EVE peered into the hole; they almost regretted it. Lady Steel slammed out of the hole at a million miles an hour and damn near took their heads off, not that she was trying to. Corina stopped short of the ceiling, primed her plasma vision, and blasted the thing clean off. She then scrunched into a ball, pumped her legs, and spun in a tight vertical spiral creating a gust of air that blew all the flames out.
EVE and FaultOne stared upward, slack-jawed. That was the coolest thing they’d ever seen.
They continued to stare.
And stare.
Sam Preston, also called The Running Man, casually strolled over by EVE and followed her gaze down the hole. Falling debris sat suspended in mid-air, frozen in time. Wearing a blue, white, and red onesie, he looked at Eve. Each strand of hair curved and hung there, barely moving like they were passing through glue. He gave her a very soft shove; she didn’t move. He hopped over the hole gently—agility wasn’t his thing—and did the same to FaultOne, who also didn’t entirely move. A couple of steps later, he’s in front of ZB-Low and ends stoptime.
Fault One and EVE got yanked into the pit like an invisible pair of hands had forced them down as ZB-Low falls over in fright at his sudden appearance.
Sam points at her.
“Your hair is dope,” He told her.
She blushed before realizing he was the enemy and had just shown them all up. She raised her hand, determined, but slowed down again. The surprised look faded from her face in diminishing attoseconds. Cold embers, particle by particle, started emanating from her fist before suspending in mid air. Sam gave her arm a little nudge to throw off her aim, resumed time, and watched her freeze over the hole.
Sam collapsed to his butt immediately after as his heart was racing a mile a minute, literally. The adrenaline he generated while moving in Stoptime was still an issue, but he had made significant strides in mitigating them thanks to AUG implants. Still, there were always downsides to any treatment. Slow Burn’s hair lit up in a flash; ZB-Low rolled away from Sam and got to her feet, furious.
“You’re freaking weird!!” She shouted. Sam scrambled away and narrowly missed having his legs frozen. A volley of flame lit up the air, suddenly snuffed out with a blast of Plasma Vision from Corina. The purple light collided with the red-hot orange flame and dispersed it in a second in a silent explosion that rushed warm hot air in every direction and started melting the ice wall.
Ice shards split the air following this and rushed Corina. She dipped a shoulder and let one pass without much fuss. The other, however, she timed, caught, and tossed back at its owner. ZB-Low shrieked and created a wall of ice that couldn’t stop the momentum of the shard. It hit the wall so hard it exploded and sent her flying into a wall.
“Sam,” Corina hovered in the air like an angel. “Let the record show I had this.”
“I was nearby,” he shrugged in between his pants. “But noted.”
Slow Burn went feral. She screamed and let out a burst of flame that instantly melted the wall of ice. The Leak popped his head out of the puddle, saw how things were going, and slunk back into the pool. Slow Burn started tossing fireballs in every direction, shouting and shrieking at the top of her lungs:
“No way! No way!” She raved. Her voice became shrill and high-pitched. Corina inched closer with her hand held out like she were about to approach a rabid dog.
“Stay back!” Slow Burn shouted. Feeling boxed in, she created a thermal updraft and hit the sky; Corina gave chase. She caught up with her quickly but underestimated her capability. Molten flame hit her like a ton of bricks and sent her crashing back to the house with a trail of smoke that twisted around itself like a rubber band. Slow Burn climbed more.
She noticed a cambot had followed her, so she flipped it off. Satisfied by this personal act of rebellion, she climbed higher, then collided with something solid. Her flame snuffed out suddenly, and she slammed down back first onto yet another solid surface. She looked around helplessly; she was in a yellow light bubble.
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Roxanne Belmonte beamed at the confused girl. Her arm was outstretched and anchored to the bubble. The golden ring on her middle finger shimmered under the blue-white glow of Brachium; she felt good. She had to confess she had missed home, she had been off-planet for six months, but it felt like six years.
Authorities are on the scene with inhibitor collars, Roxanne.
“Thanks, I have eyes,” she responded to Azonne with a smile. Azonne relayed to her a middle finger emoji in her HUD, and Roxanne snorted. Azonne was partially an AI and partly a power source, with a dash of an ancient sentient being; wrapped inside Roxanne’s predecessor’s thoughts and memories. They resided within a pocket dimension housed within The Bleed, accessible only by the two golden rings on Roxanne’s middle fingers known as the Cyntaf, the most powerful weapons in the universe.
Azonne was also her friend.
On Izanami, she is Solar Flare, but she has many names across the galaxy. She was the latest in a lineage that has existed since the dawn of time and space. Through the Cyntaf, all her predecessors live on within her. In her opinion, it was a pretty sweet gig, and, now at it for almost four solstan years, using her abilities felt effortless.
Roxanne gently landed at the Shaw mansion's carnage, just in time to catch Corina hauling two Zero Year brats on her shoulders. She was ready to deliver them to the waiting arms of an SCPD cop when they locked eyes. Corina dropped the two like a pair of old suitcases.
“Roxanne?!” Corina yelled and ran up to her. She swept Roxanne up in a massive hug and said, “You’re back?!”
“In the flesh,” Roxanne replied. “C’mon, put me down!” And Corina did. She eyed her friend up and down, silently noting that she had changed from the over-her-head 16-year-old she had met four years ago. Anytime Roxanne left Izanami and returned, she looked older, stronger, and more sure of herself; Corina was proud of her.
“Love the hair,” She said, and Roxanne blushed, having forgotten she’d had her sides shaved and the rest of her hair knotted into a braided mohawk. She was talked into it by members of a feral colony she had helped stabilize out in the void as they considered her now one of them. She loved the look but couldn’t help but be self-conscious.
“Thanks, you too,” Roxanne replied with a smirk. Corina smiled and patted the bottom of her hair gleefully.
“Time for something new, yeah?” She replied.
“Hey Rox, welcome back,” Sam had strolled up to the two ladies, and he and Roxanne dapped each other up. The two typically loved to sit on rooftops and listen to music; he missed it, so he was glad she was back. Around them, the Zero Year Soldiers sat next to one another, collared like little ducks in a row. The collars worked via a miniature surgical laser that pierced the skin on the backs of their necks and dulled a nerve cluster that affected OH paranormal abilities—essentially turning them into norms.
Beyond that, in the remaining crowd that was a mix of police and civilian, Jackson glowered at the strapped-up brats. A tall thin man sidled up to him, amused. He was on the older side, with a prominent brow, low cheekbones, fair skin, and looked downright natural compared to Jackson. He had heavy dark eyes that spoke of plenty of sleepless nights. The man was John Gibson, father to Wes Gibson, The Black Zero—also known as The Nameless.
“That had to be the best Zero Day I’ve personally witnessed,” John said, not even slightly hiding the joy he had. The Gibson Clan owned a 23% controlling interest in the government, and the remaining 10% went to the remaining citizenry. That meant they were the second most powerful shareholders within; he could afford to have his fun. Jackson ignored this.
“Any updates on your son, John?” He asked, eyes locked ahead. “We didn’t spend all that money to get him out of that hell hole for nothing in return.”
“My son is still unresponsive,” Gibson replied after clearing his throat. The Black Zero was considered directly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people and the attempted genocide of the human race; he was understandably embarrassed by it.
“We’re going to expect results soon, John,” Jackson said. “Because right now, your son is just a comatose asshole.” John nodded and tightened his face into a tight smile. He tapped the glass with his index finger and walked away.
“You’re not gonna put us back in virtual, are you?” Felix had woken up and rocked horizontally to wake up his friends. “That was the best!”
Corina turned and cocked her head. Was this boy serious?
“Virtual?” She asked and approached the kids. Roxanne arched an eyebrow and glanced toward Sam; he had crouched low and squinted his eyes like a zoologist. Felix shrugged at Corina’s question.
“That’s where we were,” He casually looked at his friends, and they all nodded. “We came out a month ago; no one was around.”
“We got bored,” this was EVE. “So…,” and she shrugged.
“Seriously?” Roxanne asked, bemused; they all nodded. The defeated body language from the six after this signaled an end to the melee. Jackson stepped forward from the crowd and clasped his hands together. Cambots encircled all present like busybody mechanical gnats, and he had his “game face” on. Without effort, his face morphed into something almost pleasant and sincere.
“Ah, I’m honored to have The Infinites here together on Zero Day!” Roxanne winced at the title; all three of them did. Corina’s people loved it, of course. They sold a lot of t-shirts, mugs, and incredibly articulate dolls…
Roxanne loved those, actually.
Okay, she collected them.
Still, she never saw a dime of it herself. Most of it went to charities, bail projects, and food banks, and a small chunk went to Grams to help out. Jackson stepped forward, arms outstretched. Corina, as always, handled these things, so she took his hand into hers.
“And you saved a lot of people today, win-win.” He continued.
“Right,” she said. “Sorry about….” and she gestured all around her. Jackson waved a hand at her, then patted the other still clasped to his.
“Hey, thank Gresh for insurance, right?” He chuckled. “House was one of a kind, but maybe it's time to move on, right?” He shook her hand once deliberately and grinned. Skin stretched tight across his cheekbones. Corina beamed at him, bared teeth nice and wide in her finest professional smile.
“Oh, who could say?!” Boy, she hated herself at this moment. “I must get going, Mr. Shaw.” He bowed his head in response; this was a dance.
“Of course,” he said and left toward an officer. Roxanne raised her eyebrows as Corina approached them both. She put an arm around Roxanne and gave her a little squeeze.
“I didn’t think you’d make it,” She said.
“Of course, it's your birthday tomorrow,” Roxanne replied. “Wouldn’t miss it. Also, I got you a gift!”
“Catch up? I’m buying.” She asked. Roxanne shook her head and brushed an invisible strand of hair around her ear, an old habit built into her muscle memory.
“Can’t yet,” She said. “I’ve got to-um-go check in with my…other job. Y’know, now that I’m back...”
Roxanne had a so-called real job on Izanami to build social credit. Jobless citizens might as well not exist, and people who never finished placement school ended up with limited choices, and she was one of them. Roxanne was 16 when she had accepted The Mantle, sucked into The Bleed for five years before emerging still 16. It took a lot of doing just to get her legally declared un-dead, and when she turned 19, she purposely entered the workforce.
“No way you still have it,” Sam opined.
“Whole reason I took the job, they’re pretty lax about my—uh, y’know—my real job,” she smirked and shrugged. “Besides, I’m sure Chris saw me on the net, so I can't pretend I got here tomorrow.” That wasn’t true—she wanted to see this Chris person, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Okay,” Corina said, she hugged Roxanne again, and they cheek kissed. “Tomorrow, my place. Got it?”
“We’ll be there,” Roxanne knew grams was super excited for tomorrow night herself. She waved at both her friends and hit the sky fast. She lowered her aura and let the cool air soak through her armor and let the fluff of clouds smash her in the face. It felt good to be home.